Lady Bell was part of Tatton’s life since he could remember. She was always present, always on the fringe of his furthest memories. As a child he’d memorized her: the rebellion that lingered in her steps; her shoulders straight and strong, archer’s shoulders; her hazel eyes ever alight with challenge. She had the fairest hair that fell to her waist, a pale shade of wheat that toddler Tate was quietly jealous of. He knew her, but never knew much about her, other than the fact she’d been a friend of the Wiltswoe’s for a long time. Bessa didn’t like her much, but Har was kind to her, saying she was a person that deserved to be treated like any other person. But to Tate: She was a Queen. A Feyrie Queen. Lady Bell was wild and beautiful, fierce and kind and strong and he loved and admired her more than he’d admired anyone outside of his family. After he'd turned six, he became determined to know more about her and all the great kingdoms she ruled.
“Lady Bell? Why’d’you never go to town wi’ me?” A six-year old Tate asked her one day after they’d practiced archery. They were crouching under the shade of a tree pretending to be frogs. The grass caught the sun, rippling in the crisp winds.
“I do not like town very much.” She said simply, and although her accent was distinctly Breelander, Tate thought she even talked like a Queen! “It is far more fun to explore the forests and ruins, and to be here with you.”
“D’you like Pree?” He chirped, question after question in typical childlike manner.
“Not so much.”
“T’en why’re you here?”
She paused, and Tate thought he could see a forest in the hazel of her eyes, a light brown spattered with the green and gold of shaken leaves. “I owe much to your family. I assist them and in turn, they provide me much. I get to see you, as well. Makes it worth it.” She smiled down at him and her smile was like the sun, bright and warm and impossible to look at. Tate suddenly got very shy and looked down, drawing swirls in the dirt with his finger.
“Do’ya ‘ave a house like me?
“No. Homes are good, but I don’t need one. I make homes in the places I go. Whenever I sleep, that place is my home.”
“T’en you’re a… a randir.” Tatton mumbled.
Her eyes flitted to him, laughing. Clearly, she misheard, “A what?”
“A randir!” His eyes sparkled, his teeth gaped in his grin, “A wander person.”
Lady Bell’s amusement left her, but still she kept her smile wide, “Where did you hear that word?”
“Misser Turner! I gave him boots and now ‘e teaches me! He shows me books! Only ‘appy books, t’ough. One book with magic words with lo’s o’ swirlies.” He scrambled for a stick and started etching symbols in the dirt, pointing to them in pride, “Like this!”
While he wrote, Lady Bell looked past him towards the tannery about 50 meters away. Bessa’s silhouette took up the window of the house, no doubt purposefully, and Lady Bell could feel her eyes upon her. She ignored her and turned to Tate’s scriggly drawings with pride and veiled concern.
“Do you know what that is, Tatton?”
“Magic words!” He beamed with gap-teeth.
“Yes…” After a pause, she spoke, a smile in her eyes, “That magic language is called Sindarin. It is the language of the fair folk, the elves.”
“Elfs…” His eyes widened, “You mean feyries, like you?”
She laughed, a light bubbling laugh that made Tate extremely happy; the boy bounced a bit and mirrored her smile, “No, Tate, I am human, not a feyrie. Look.” She drew back her hair and pointed, “Do you see my ear? Is it pointy?” The boy shook his head. “Then I am not an elf.”
“My ears are kinda pointy! Maybe I’m one?”
Lady Bell laughed when he started stretching his already big ears out and shook her head, “No, dear, you are not. But elves are real and you can learn a lot from them.”
“People don’t think they’re real.”
Lady Bell frowned and readjusted her bow on her back, “Townsfolk don’t believe a lot of things that they should, and believe in many things they shouldn’t. You should make up your own mind about things.”
“ ‘Ave you seen elfs?”
“Aye, I have. I’ve even worked with them. They protect us, even when we don’t see it. You should always respect and believe in them.”
“If I knows Sinsarin, I can talk wif’ elfs?”
“Maybe, if you can meet one.”
“I wants to know, teach me Sinsarin.” He pleaded with an eagerness that tugged at the woman’s heart. But her heart felt heavy and debate flickered in her eyes, as if weighing consequences. Finally, she set her lips into a thin smile, a defiant one, and looked at him carefully, seriously, “A few words. But you can’t talk about them, hear?”
“Aye! Tell me the words for things I love! I love red-berry muffins! And sunny kites wit’ cwouds! And Har’s biiiiig willow tree. Teach me tha’!”
“I don’t know that word.” She replied without hesitation and a smile. Tatton stared at her, there was something strange about the way her eyes shifted, how her normally unshakable confidence trembled for a moment. Without being aware of it, he knew she just lied to him. It was not the first lie he’d catch her in. But this was the first he’d remember, the first he’d choose to believe.
“I’ll give you a word I know instead.” She lowered her voice like she was telling the grandest secret in the world and her eyes glittered, “Hador.”
Tate was transfixed with wonder, and his mouth fell open, “W’as tha’?”
“It means a hero. Like you.”
A lop-sided grin took over his face. Lady Bell thought he was a hero? Happiness bubbled inside of his and he clapped, bouncing on his heels excitedly. She thought he was a hero! If she thought he was a bird, he would have believed her and jumped off a tree just to prove he could fly. He trusted her so completely and her opinion of him made all others invalid.
“Weally???”
“Yes, really!” Tate’s joy reflected in her eyes and she grinned that sun-like grin again, only this time Tate couldn’t help but stare at her, “Are a brave boy who likes adventure?” Tatton nodded aggressively. “Do you like to help other people? Then you are a hero, Tate! And, do think you can race me to… that tree?”
Before he had a chance to nod, Lady Bell was already running, laughing with her fair hair flapping wildly behind her and he was chasing her. He remembers laughing, his tears skidding over his cheeks as he ran and eventually beat her to the tree. He remembered being so happy in that moment, that at every opportunity after he would tell everyone he was a hero because Lady Bell told him so. Har, Datura and Ferna all laughed and would tease him with the title hereafter. But he did remember Bessa was quiet that day, and said nothing as she slipped into the next room. Maybe she didn’t like heroes.
