A Name Day Present like No Other
“Happy nineteenth name day!”
The voices of my family called out cheerily, stirring me from the depths of a pleasant dream where I was a few feet taller and gracefully dancing around a beautiful ballroom in a lovely gown with a strange beast-man in a fancy tuxedo.
“Can my name day come back tomorrow?” I whined into my pillow, the haze of dreaming already slipping away. What I wouldn’t give to even step foot in a beautiful ballroom far away from my small, ordinary life.
Laslo, the youngest of my siblings at almost ten, crawled up into my top bunk bed and bounced wildly on my back. He giggled as I swiped behind me and missed him. “Name day, name day, name day!” he chanted. His squeals of joy reminded me that my life wasn’t actually that small after all.
I finally caught one of his ankles and pulled him off of me, wrapping my arms around his wriggling body in a tight hug. He cackled with glee, which sent Liora, Myra, Pippa, and Tamsin all clambering up into my bed to form the infamous pile-o-sibling that usually ended with someone shouting that they couldn’t breathe. Though, by nature, being able to shout at the top of their lungs meant they could breathe just fine.
My bed frame creaked weakly under the weight of six small-folk mussing around on top of it. Down below, Ma tsked at Da for not having a better hold on Myra and Pippa. Da returned her comment with a sly dig. “I think that’s the pot callin’ the kettle black, dear. Both Liora and Tamsin are up there suffocating our eldest, as well.”
Faces smushed against mine, sending warm kisses into the depths of my soul. For a moment, their love filled the empty space in my heart where I’d hidden my secret desire to make a great name for myself. “Alright, alright,” I huffed, feigning annoyance and sitting up out of the pile of colorful nightgowns and jammies. “We can’t do any name day activities if everyone’s stuck up here all day.”
That inspired a mad scramble for the ladder. I peeked down at my parents. Dad was holding a large, square present, wrapped up in the newspaper my siblings spent yesterday coloring all over. Ma was holding a plate piled high with honey cakes. Delicious. Glorious. Honey cakes. My mouth started watering.
“If you don’t hand one of those up here right now, I won’t be coming down,” I said, reaching as far as I could towards my Ma and clicking my fingers together greedily. The warm, flakey pastry hit my palm, honey already dribbling between my fingers. I popped the whole thing in my mouth. If I were going to choke and die of something, it had better be honey cakes.
“Don’t get any on your bedding,” Da chided a bit too late. The cake was gone, and I licked sweet honey off my fingers, happier than an otter at an all-you-can-eat clam bake.
I slipped down the ladder, grabbing the plate out of Ma’s hands. “Thank you. So, what will you all be eating this morning?” I chirped, skipping away down the hall to the kitchen before anyone had time to react.
Little feet thundered after me, and declarations of war sounded from my siblings as I ran away, chomping down another honey cake as I did. But then I was cornered in the kitchen with hands reaching up onto the plate I held, snatching the cakes away from me.
“This happens every year,” Ma scolded, strolling leisurely into the kitchen after us. “And every year, I have to remind you children that there are more honey cakes warming in the stove.”
I never forgot that there were more honey cakes on the way. But I thoroughly enjoyed the drama and cacophony of roars from the Tealeaf siblings as they chased after me, determined to catch me before I’d eaten their share of the cakes on the plate.
I set the plate in the center of the large table in our kitchen and took a final honey cake from the depleted pile. I took my time with this one, closing my eyes and savoring the crunch of the pastry between my teeth.
A sticky finger poked my cheek, and I peeked through my lashes at Tamsin. She stood on her chair next to me, gap-tooth grinning. Her white blonde hair matched mine in color, and she wore long pigtail braids going down to her elbows today. My hair probably resembled a hornet’s nest at the moment. I crossed my eyes and poked my tongue out at her in a silly face, sending her into a fit of giggles.
Da walked over and set the present he was holding on the table before me. “Happy name day, sweet Kithri,” he said, sounding on the verge of tears. I glanced up at him to see that familiar glimmer of silver lining his green doe-eyes that matched my own. My heart clenched at the sight. They had sacrificed so much for us, for me, to have a good, full life. And here they were, still giving, even when I felt like I had given them so little in return and secretly wished myself away from Hill Hollow.
Money had been tight the last few months. A drought had caused a sharp decrease in our harvest this year. I wonder how Ma had even found enough sugar to make these honey cakes? Lots of things were scarce right now, and sugar was one of the hardest goods to find.
“I– I didn’t expect all of this,” I stammered, inspecting the purple and yellow farm animal doodles that were on the side of the present closest to me.
Liora cleared her throat, licking honey off her fingers before tucking her short blonde hair behind her ears. “Well, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if you expected it,” she said, all matter-of-factly. At fifteen years old, she’d really leaned into the pedantic mindset of her age.
“Alright, Miss Know-it-all,” I teased. I shred open the wrappings of my gift and tossed tossing a small ball of newspaper at her.
“I drew the flowers on top,” Laslo said, pointing proudly to the green-petaled flowers with red and purple stems. My job had likely influenced his choice in artistry.
I’d spent the last four years out in the forest around the shire cataloging the local flora. I probably could have gotten everything done in a year, but I’d spent a lot of time practicing sword fighting with an old scimitar I’d found after the raid ten years ago. Ma and Da didn’t know that part, though. I practiced mostly on tree trunks, so it wasn’t like I was in any danger or anything.
I turned to Laslo with a wide grin. “I think you invented a new type of flower, my wee one. I’ve never seen one like this before.” His bright smile warmed me, chasing away the chill of guilt that always came around when I thought about how I lied to my parents on a regular basis.
“If he’s the wee one, what am I?” Tamsin asked, her breath hot on my neck. I faced her, and she was still standing on her chair but had leaned close enough to me that we were now nose-to-nose. Honey cakes wafted on her breath.
“Hm, interesting question,” I said, not backing away from her invasion of my personal space and tapping my chin thoughtfully. “I’d have to say you’re the wee one, too.”
Tamsin crinkled her nose at me and put on a pout. “Wee One Two? That’s not very special,” she muttered, folding her arms over her chest.
“All of my children are wee ones,” Ma chuckled, licking a final drip of honey off her thumb. They still looped me in with the children despite my being four years older than Liora and more than that for everyone else. It wasn’t fair. My next name day, I would be considered an adult by our small-folk community.
“The wee Tealeafs!” Da blustered from behind me. “The Wee-leafs!”
Myra clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle her laughter, but Da caught her. “What are you laughing at? You’re a wee-leaf too, last I checked,” he said, play-shaking his finger at her.
She snorted again, her laugh a bright twinkle in the room. “A wee-leaf sounds like what you’d use after tinkling in the woods!”
The table burst out into full hysterics as my father’s pale face grew bright pink under his bushy, strawberry-blond mustache.
“I’m going to open my present now before Da says anything else that could muddy the good Tealeaf name,” I said loudly before ripping the final pieces of newspaper off the box holding my name day present. I unfolded the cardboard on top, which revealed new painting supplies. I squealed and clapped my hands.
“How did you find this bright of a blue?” I asked, picking up a small bottle of bright blue paint. It was smaller than the other paint colors, but that didn’t matter. I jumped out of my chair and rushed over to squeeze my parents into a tight hug.
“You’d mentioned running low on paint supplies,” Ma said, acting shy.
Dad placed a warm hand on my shoulder. “Not to mention, you use your painting skills to help us make ends meet when needed. This is the very least we could do to thank you for your generous heart.”
I flushed, heat crawling up my face and to the curve of my ears. . I could be doing more, but they didn’t know that.
My best friend, Finnan Windwick, had been hired as Miss. Tutenhald’s apprentice at the library four years ago. Upon my begging-slash-request, he’d immediately hired me as a researcher for the library.
His dark brown eyes had sparked with mischief when he told me what my job would be and knew what I’d really be doing most of the time. He was the only one who knew I’d been trying to sneak off to practice my sword fighting for years. I wanted to be ready to train with the Dragon’s Head Warrior when I found them.
Finn was a small-folk like me, but his ears were pointy, instead of curved like mine. He was also a bit too tall to be a halfling. Not that it meant anything really. Small-folk is small-folk in our community. Finnan’s top talent was finding ways to get us both in trouble. He’d matched this research job with my artistic abilities. It was his greatest scheme — but all because we’d not gotten caught, of course.
“I’m so excited to start using this,” I said, squeezing my parents individually.
I turned and caught Pippa making kissy faces at me behind my back. “Now, what’s that all about?” Ma asked probably catching the same face I did.
“Is Kitty going to go and show Finny her new paint set?” Pippa asked, batting her eyelashes dramatically, speaking with the intonation of an actress on stage.
Another flush crept into my cheeks, but this one wasn’t because of a lie. Finn was my best friend in the entire world. That was it. “You’re the one with a big, fat crush on him,” I said, blowing a raspberry at her.
My fourteen-year-old sister shrugged at me, her curly tangle of honey blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders. She narrowed her emerald green eyes at me. “At least I’m brave enough to admit the truth.”
I looked to our parents for help. They shook their heads in silent surrender. I glared at Pippa for a moment. Was it worth the risk to do a little magic and get some payback?
Why not? It was my name day. And now Ma and Da had busied themselves with pulling the next wave of honey cakes from the oven.
I made a small gesture with my fingers as I grabbed a fresh honey cake from the tray, and then stormed out of the front door. My movement sent a breeze through a dozen different copies of my paintings of local plants tacked on the kitchen wall. They fluttered like birds trying to take flight.
Behind me, someone gagged with disgust, and I smiled, relishing the sound of a blooming argument in my wake..
“Did you fart, Pippa?” Liora shouted in accusation, greeted by a loud shriek of denial from Pippa.
It was the first simple trick of magic I’d learned several years ago, but I only used it on occasion so no one would grow wise to my growing abilities. Not that my abilities were that great in the first place.
The smell would fade after an hour passed, so no real harm was done, but Laslo’s tiny voice rose above the chaos in the kitchen, making the trick all the more worth it.
“Pippa smells like a butt!”
I cackled over my trick as I raced through the village past huts, homes, and tree-houses similar to our oak home. Finnan had to be at work by now, so I routed my path through the small, quiet market toward the biggest building in town — the library. I burst through the doors, startling Miss. Tutenhald at the front desk. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously when she caught sight of me.
“Finnan!” I yelled, the clay walls of the library echoing my friend’s name back to me.
“Shh!” Miss. Tutenhald scolded, placing a black-scaled finger to her beaked mouth. She was another kind of small-folk, shorter than me, but she resembled a small, wingless dragon.
“Sorry,” I whispered, not feeling too apologetic though. Miss. Tutenhald was kinda grouchy… all the time. And no one but me, her, and Finn were in the library this early in the morning.
Finn’s black, curly hair was the first thing to pop up over a bookshelf as he climbed up a ladder to see who’d called for him. Then, his whole head was up over the bookshelf, putting him directly in a sunbeam. His dark taupe skin glowed in the light, and when he saw me, he cracked the biggest smile. He disappeared below the bookshelf, but soon, he was bounding toward me with his arms stretched wide in the sage green shirt I’d given him for Wintertide.
“Happy name day, Kit!” He said, grabbing me up in a bear hug and spinning around. I laughed, unable to control my noise level, and Miss. Tutenhald shushed us again.
“This is a library, not a sport arena,” she snapped, scowling at the pair of us.
I exchanged a sideways glance with Finn. She liked him more. He could put books away on the higher shelves without a ladder. “We’ll try to keep it down, Miss. Tutenhald, but Kithri is nineteen today, so there will be some celebrating as we diligently do our jobs.”
I nodded, silent but enthusiastic, and Miss. Tutenhald rolled her eyes, waving us away from her desk. We took that as a win and scampered into Finn’s office at the back of the library. He’d recently been promoted to Senior Assistant — we didn’t talk about how he was the only assistant — and got an office all to himself. Familiar press clippings from all over the country were pinned to the wall, but new one had been added since I’d been back here a week ago.
I stepped behind his cluttered desk and read the page. The headline stated King Erais of Pytenna Calls the Country’s Troops to the Capital.
“Things are getting bad, aren’t they?” I asked.
I hadn’t actually meant to ask that out loud, but Finn answered me anyway. “From what I can tell, no fighting has started, and if it does, Hill Hollow would be safe.”
Finn didn’t live in Hill Hollow ten years ago. His family moved here the year after the raid. He only knew the peace of Hill Hollow. He could never understand how incredibly defenseless we were to anyone who wanted to hurt our village.
As we’d become friends, I’d told him everything about my life — except for the horror I witnessed the night of the raid. Nobody really talked about what happened during the raids. But I remembered, so I prepared the best I could.
For the first year of my job as a researcher, I had to figure out how to even fight with a blade. Finnan had laughed and joked about how bad I was, but my determination to improve held steady throughout the years and he joked less and less.
Despite not knowing exactly what happened during the raid, Finn asked a lot of questions about the Dragon’s Head Warrior. He wanted to know what the warrior’s magic looked like, if I’d heard them speak, what I thought they looked like under their helmet.
“Hey,” Finn said cheerily, squeezing my shoulder. “Since I’m in the running for greatest friend in the world this year, I decided it wouldn’t be a good look if I skimped on a name day present for you.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “That present better come with a retraction statement. I’m obviously going to win greatest friend in the world — just like I have every year before.”
“By bullying me into voting for you in a two person election,” he said, chuckling as he shuffled through the piles on his desk. He was muttering to himself.
“That’s not the one. I put it in a folder, but where’d I put the folder?”
I scanned the room. What kind of present would be in a folder? Maybe he’d gotten me some prints of some rare flowers from different regions in Dellegan. He had a couple of librarian assistant friends throughout the continent who’d likely be more than happy to help him with a favor.
“Might it be where you keep all your other folders?” I asked, pointing at a couple of cabinets in the corner. One of those drawers was filled with my paintings, the rest had all of Finn’s research files.
“Folder for Kit in the folder drawer?” He mused, scratching at his stubbly chin. “That’s too obvious. I would never–”
He stopped scratching, brown eyes wide with a sudden realization. “Unless you never would have guessed that my present for you was in a folder. Then the folder cabinet would be the perfect place to hide your name day gift from you,” he said, slipping around his desk and rifling through the nearest cabinet.
“If you think that hard again, you might break your brain,” I said, chuckling.
“Ha, ha. Be nice, or I might pretend I haven’t found your name day gift,” Finn said, triumphantly holding up a green file. “Green like your eyes and your favorite color.”
I nodded, holding out my hands patiently. If these were new flower prints, Laslo might be even more thrilled to see them than me. I flipped open the file and found copies of shipping logs from a nearby harbor town. “This is… great,” I said, plastering a smile on my face. Maybe this was a prank?
“That’s not the reaction I was expecting,” Finn said, his brow furrowed in concern. He leaned over to look at the file in my hands and snorted. “It probably would have helped to have this stacked properly.”
Finn shuffled through the pages under the shipping log and pulled a letter to the top of the pile. It was from a librarian in Roahdhan, a kingdom in Tonirn, all the way across the Golden Sea from Dellegan and our shire.
“A letter from the mage Aramedia?” I asked, a tad skeptical, but he motioned for me to read it. I scanned the note until a phrase popped out at me, causing me to stop in my tracks.
Aramedia mentioned a strange warrior hiding in the nearby mountains who was known specifically for their dragon-shaped helm. Finnan had found my warrior. These shipping logs tracked the schedules of ships going to Roahdhan. Maybe I could convince one of them to take me across the Golden Sea to Tonirn?
“Finnan, I could kiss you right now,” I said, rifling through the other papers he’d gathered in this file. He’d practically planned my entire journey from Hill Hollow to those mountains, by the looks of it. When he didn’t respond with some kind of quip, I looked up and saw his brown skin had a ruddy flush to it. “Good night, it’s just an expression of gratitude, you plum-head.”
That brought him back to his usual self. “I think I just jumped way ahead of you on the greatest friend charts. Who calls their best friend a plum-head?”
“I’ll do it again if I so please,” I said, sticking out my tongue at him. “I get away with whatever I want on my name day.”
“Do you think you could get away with crossing the Golden Sea and finding your dragon knight?” Finn asked, cocking a bushy eyebrow at me.
This journey could take weeks, maybe even more than a month. Ma and Da would never let me go. They hardly let me leave the oak home if I didn’t have a good enough reason. They feared my magic could get me into trouble. They’d not been the same since the raid. Maybe that was my fault. Maybe I should have stayed in the cellar like they’d told me to. But they might have died if I had stayed in the cellar. I would pick them surviving that night over any of my lost privileges.
But I couldn’t stay here, knowing that finding the Dragon’s Head Warrior was within my reach. They could teach me how to protect my family if this war ever did threaten our village. Or if those pirates came back to finish the job. Some had escaped that night.
“If I go, will you go with me?” I asked, a small burst of butterflies swirling in my stomach at the thought of going on a quest with my best friend.
Finnan smiled wide. It was the rarest of his smiles — the one that was so big that it crinkled his eyes into thin lines of long, dark lashes. “I’d hoped you’d ask me to go, but I wasn’t sure,” he said. “We can leave tomorrow morning and make it to Bhay Bridge Harbor before the next ship leaves.”
“It’s not that I can’t do it without you. It’s that I couldn’t imagine leaving the greatest friend in the whole wild world behind when I was setting off on a grand adventure,” I said, poking his arm playfully before pulling him into a hug that was warmer than a summer afternoon.
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