My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

In a month, she learned how to balance on her talons. Walk, hop, sprint... up and down steps too.

By three, there was not a room in the estate that could elude her curiosity nor her tiny legs.

Sometimes she'd mess up, sometimes there were certain places her stubbornness and tenacity could never reach.

For those certain unreachable places, it's a common sight to find a little smidgen of scorched black on the walls and the floors, maybe even scratch marks here and there.

Or maybe, as it was usually the case, you'll see both. She was admittedly quick to lose her temper.

She eventually realized that in these places her feet never touched - they all had one single thing in common.

They were always too high up.

"You're still thinking yourself human, that's your problem, little dearie," said and smiled gently the old man one day, answering to her squawking for help to be raised atop the kitchen countertop. "Remember, you're no human. You are made to be so much more than that. I didn't give you your wings just for you to hug yourself to sleep, you know?"

------

A year later, she learned herself to glide. Hopping her way down the stairs soon just became a distant boring memory.

But with it came new caveats, because as fun as it was, as exciting as the act, a blunder in the air proved a much more painful consequence than tripping her legs on the ground.

Gliding wasn't flying... and her landings weren't always the most graceful. Torem always had to be present too, as a precaution - the one time he wasn't, the one time she thought herself big now, capable now, don't need any help now...

It was a long two weeks after for her wings to fully mend. It seems stair-hopping wasn't as dull a process after all.

Everything seemed smaller with her newfound mode of transportation. From below, everything was always vast, every room enormous - but in the air, in her brief moments above, everything seemed so small, too small, in fact, if her constant crashes were anything to go by.

Torem understood she needed someplace bigger.

The first time she ever left the estate, she was perched tightly onto his shoulders refusing to let go. For once, her beak was clamped shut.

"It's that fear I see on you, little dearie?" spoke the old man, noticing her apprehension. "I've never seen you this afraid before. You must really be taking all our lessons to heart."

With the grim tone he used every lesson, how was she not to pay attention?

The wars waged, the lives lost, all of the evil that lurked the outside... besides, what if...just what if there were Elves around?

Behind that tree, maybe? That forest nearby, what if some resided within? The bushes swayed, maybe there was. No, they should go back... the outside was bad. She shouldn't have complained, she shouldn't have squawked and pestered - no, she'll apologize now, they'll go home now.

"Calm yourself, shh, shh," He gently rubbed a finger on her head, stifling a chuckle as he did. "Maybe you haven't been paying too much attention, after all, it seems..."

At that, she snapped her beak at him.

"Am I wrong?" He teased. "No, I don't believe so. You've only heard the worst - but what of the good? What of the beauty, what of the wonder? There is much joy as there is cruelty in the world, you'll come to find... yes, you'll definitely like it here."

She gave him a look.

"Oh please, spare me. Come a week's time and you'll have me running after you, insisting that you return back home - and you'll refuse and simply continue to fly... and I'll watch you from below, teeming with regret for ever thinking of introducing you to the outdoors. You just mark my words."

His words were marked, and remembered, but she didn't dare believe a single word of it - there's no way she'll ever like it out here in a week or even two.

And indeed, Torem was dead wrong, after all.

It only took three days before he was shouting himself hoarse after her way up high in the sky. Even after night fell, she rarely ever came down, if ever at all.

The outdoors proved an invaluable teacher to her - from gliding to full-fledged flying.

Whenever she could, she soared through the air, feeling the wind rustling through her feathers. It was a sensation like no other.

She wanted to share that feeling, talk about it with someone... for the first time, she had the desire to be heard.

"I'm afraid I still don't understand you, little dearie," Torem told her just before bed. "If you really wish to really speak, then perhaps you should be taking your transformation lessons a little bit more seriously next time, hmm? Just a thought."

---------

Three years later. The little bird's first word was "Shit".

She was still getting used to the weird fleshy thing in her mouth, she'd do her best but the words were always slurred, but in spite of it, Torem couldn't have been a prouder father.

That was her second word too, not long following the first.

"Father..." Always tenderly paired with the third. "Hug?"

He'd smile, reaching out to her little hands instead of wings, scooping her off her little legs instead of talons.

Now the lonely estate, slowly and gradually, would have two voices echoing within its walls instead of one.

But she was never allowed out now, never given the chance to tag along during the rare few times Torem would leave.

She tugged at his sleeve just as he opened the front door, standing on tiptoe, her crimson eyes wide as saucers, staring up at his own... blinking, batting, pleading.

Torem smiled. "Nice try."

With a blink, her endearing gaze was gone, she clicked her tongue. "But I wanna come!"

"Noooo!" He mimicked her whine.

"Why not?" She pouted, crossing her little arms around each other. "When I was a bird, you didn't mind!"

"Because when you were a bird, you were just a bird," He explained to her. "People will see you fly and think you were just a bird."

She made a grunt through pursed lips, and he continued.

"Now, if people see you, they won't see a bird anymore. They'll see a little girl with hair glowing like flames, with embers floating all around her. I ask you, is that normal?"

"You told me I was normal," She continued to pout.

"Forgive me, yes, you are quite normal indeed, little dearie," He said, crouching down to meet her gaze. "I'll rephrase... you simply don't look human enough, is all. You're different."

"When will I be a human, then?"

He chuckled quietly, stroking her chin. "I don't suppose you forgot what I told you?"

"Father..."

"I told you...?"

She blew a begrudging breath. "I am much more than human... yes, Father, I know."

Torem ruffled her locks, expelling brighter embers to sway in the process. "That's my girl."

"I just want to go out with you."

"In time," He told her. "In the coming years, maybe when the world is ready to accept a being like you."

"I don't know what that means still. Why am I so different?"

"In one ear and out the other, hm?" He raised his brows. "I lost count of how many times I've said it to you already."

"Three hundred and forty-seven," She promptly replied.

A snort. "Lucky one of us was keeping count."

"I am the wishes of humanity. I am everything humanity strives to be. I am the successor to humanity."

"Ah, seems I stand corrected."

She rolled her eyes, unamused. "You say this, but I don't understand it. How exactly am I to succeed humanity?"

"You're still young, you're allowed a little confusion," He stood back up. "You'll understand in time, it is what you were made for after all..."

Dissatisfaction filled her expression. She was always like this when things didn't go her way.

Torem wasn't a stranger to her foul temper, and in time... he even found ways to effectively appease it.

And for this - he knew just what to say.

"I came up with a name for you, you know?"

In an instant, her flames surged with greater intensity, and her eyes, turning to his, were violently set ablaze.

"You did?!"

He had to shield his eyes to even stare. "I did."

She shone even brighter. "What is it?!"

"Settle yourself down, little dearie. If you really wish to know then you're going to need to..."

"I'll leave you be! I'll be a good girl! I'll stay!"

Torem beamed at her as bright as her flames, ruffling her hair once again. "I won't be long, dearie."

She nodded, darted... and buried her face in his old tattered robes. "Thank you, Father."

"No," He reciprocated, enclosing her little self with his arms. "Thank you for existing."

He left shortly after.

She waved him goodbye.

The day after, Torem passed away.

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