Morning Light

The sunrise was painting the snowy peaks golden. It was cold up on the mountain meadow, wedged between two forests. Talea rubbed her numb hands together. It was chilly up here, just below the tree line, really chilly. Down in the valleys, spring had come weeks ago, yet here, only the earliest of blooms could be seen. At the foot of the mountains, apple trees were white with blossoms. Here, white stops were just as likely snow as snow drops.

And yet, Talea had spent days up here searching for a sign. Last night, she'd finally found it. A circle of crocuses, instead of the traditional toadstools. But it was too perfect to be natural. And so she'd waited all night for sunrise, when the veil between reality and magic was thin.

She had put down a little offering of food; milk, bread and cheese, all the things magical creatures had more difficulty getting. It was the first lesson of magic. Always try to get those that have it as close to your side as possible. Bribery worked wonders.

Morning light fell on the crocuses. So slow you could barely tell, the petals opened. Magic shimmered in the air.

"Who's at the door?" an old voice croaked. It took a couple of heartbeats before a small figure became visible. The vague shape twisted and billowed like smoke. Talea saw a beard, long and white. Knobbly hands. A hat, making the stocky figure look taller.

Almost involuntarily, Talea let out a sigh of relief. She'd summoned a gnome. She knew how to deal with gnomes. Elves were strange and foreign. Dwarves talked in a language with too many vowels. But gnomes, gnomes she understood.

"I came to your door, Master Crocus," she said, curtsying. "I heard you could take away names so nobody remembers them anymore."

"Is that why you won't give me yours, human?"

"No. I came to ask you to take the one I… the one which burdens me still. Please, Master Crocus, will you help me?" She opened her satchel. "I got honey and apples and could make you a tea if you'd like payment, too."

The gnome looked her up and down critically. "Shoddy job, not taking your name, too," he grumbled, holding out a hand. "One jar of honey. And don't tell anyone I helped. I'd never get to eat my breakfast in peace otherwise. So, what's the name that fool of a fir man didn't take?"

"It's □□□□."

The gnome nodded. "Try again," he prompted.

"■■■■." Talea slapped her hands to her mouth. "■■■■," she repeated, confused.

The gnome smirked. "There. Thank you for your payment," he added as he took the jar. "You're a strange one, being so ready to deal with my kind."

"Yours understands better than my own," Talea sighed.

"Ah, that old problem. Humans really are quite strange." The gnome dipped a finger into the honey. "Thank you," he repeated, already fading.

"No, I have to thank you!" Talea called after him. When he and her offerings were gone, she tried the name again.

"■■■■," she screamed and then laughed in relief. It was gone. Finally gone.