Fat Girl in a Strange Land (11 page)

Three choices: stay here and die slowly; wait for rescue (an unlikely possibility); or leave the tower.
And go where?
Home to Caertraeth? They didn’t want her. But where else was there? Tanny groaned out of her chair and crossed the chamber to the eastern window. Moonlight on already pale skin made her ample flesh glow silver. It was too dark to attempt an escape tonight, but not too dark to plan a way to do it.

Two days after Aberfa’s barrier melted, Tanny sat on the western window ledge (after complicated manoeuvring). With her stubby legs dangling vertiginously into empty space, she examined the sheer sides of her tower wall. Reddened fingers moved to the knotted fabrics at her round waist. Tanny had never been so aware of her own size before. She had never needed to be. Now, with gravity daring her to test its legal rights, she was keenly aware of just how large and heavy she really was.

“I can’t stay like this,” Tanny decided, eyes closed to the wide open world. “No one is coming for me. I will not survive without food or water. I must find another way to live. This is an inescapable truth.”

She turned, eyes still closed and belly flopped across the ledge. Fingers dug stubbornly into the stone window frame, clinging to the only world she had known. She shifted one hand to clutch at the knotted collection of former tapestries, ex-dresses and beautifully embroidered blankets-as-were. One end of the twined textiles was secured to her sturdy bed, the other about her stout waist. She moved her remaining hand to the rope, thrust her feet against the rough stone tower façade and, after a bit of wriggling to un-wedge, Tanny pushed herself out the window.

“Bless you, hefty iron bed,” Tanny called out to the window above. “This is working,” she crowed. “So far.”
So far
… It’s
so far.
One question had occupied Tanny’s mind for the last two days. It returned to plague her now:
will the rope be long enough?
No. Tanny was half-way down the tower, panting and sweating with effort and fear, when she ran out of tapestry-dress-blanket twine.

“Stuck again,” she muttered to herself. “Trapped
on
the tower rather than
in
the tower, but is this really an improvement?”

“Why not fly down?” chirped a voice from her shoulder. If Tanny could have jumped, she would have. As it was, she could only think of one response.

“No wings,” she puffed.

“Hmm,” the voice appraised critically from behind. “Wings wouldn’t work for you.”

“They’d have to be made of strong stuff,” agreed Tanny, swaying slightly at the end of her rope.

“Didn’t that witch teach you any tricks?” snapped the impatient voice in her ear. Then the voice became a face and body. At first, he/she/it looked like another wayward orange flower, but with wings instead of petals. In the centre of the blossoming wings, a slender, naked figure with pistil-like arms and legs and…
Oh! Definitely male.

“You going to stare me all day or are you going to sort yourself out?” he hissed.

“I’m stuck.”

“You’re not,” he argued with a dismissive flutter.

“It’s a long way down,” she protested.

“Just let go.” Tanny spluttered a series of incoherent objections. The orange blossom boy placed a delicate finger on her spit glossed lips and she fell silent. “You have no wings, Princess Tangwystl,” he whispered, “but there is fairy magic in you. It will do you no harm to let go.” He swooped gracefully down. “Let go!” he called up. The twine about her waist released on command. Now all that held Tanny was the strength of her arms.

It will do me no harm to let go.
Tanny closed her eyes and opened her hands. She fell with incredible speed, limbs flailing, curls flapping. Orange Blossom Boy dove alongside her, giggling. She made futile efforts to grab him — either to use his wings or to kill him for tricking her.

Tanny braced for impact, but when impact happened, it was rather less impactful than expected. She landed on her generous bottom and simply bounced. She bounced over a berry patch, through a daisy bed and finally came to rest, with soft recoil, against the orange blossom tree.

“There you are,” greeted Orange Blossom Boy in a
told you so
voice. He appeared larger now — the size of a human child — perched on a low branch, dangling twig-like, greenish-brown legs, wings resting against his bare back.

“Yes,” Tanny murmured, breathless from her springing fall. She struggled to her feet, checked for damage, found none. “Thank you, err…”

“Maddon.” He bowed slightly.

“Are you a fairy?” She didn’t want to assume. Maddon rolled his eyes and hopped off his perch to stand before her. Tanny wished he would sit on the branch again. She had only seen naked men in pictures. Not that Maddon was a man, but he was male…with strange male parts. She blushed.

“You’re obviously not a fairy,” Maddon sneered, looking her up and down. “But there is something fairy in you, Tangwystl.” He examined her closely. Tanny shifted self-consciously under her shift, then remembered something.

“I left a bag at the bottom of the tower.” Dropped actually. It contained clothes, a bedroll and other useful items. Tanny turned toward the tower to retrieve it, then collapsed against the tree in a wave of dizziness.

“Easy now,” warned Maddon. “The world is bigger than you’re used to.” He ran a soothing hand across her forehead, steadying her. She flinched. Tanny wasn’t accustomed to physical contact.

“I need my bag.” Tanny leapt up easily, feeling lighter on her feet. Maddon’s doing?

The world is bigger than you’re used to.
Yes. Big…and colourful…and wild.
She walked through the daisy bed she had bounced over, and the flowers took off like a fleet of tiny, stemmed helicopters to circle her, fluttering flowery eyelashes. Stones scuttled out of her way, bumping clumsily into each other, then uncurled like beetles and stood on surer feet to march beside her. Lithe figures of women peeled from the barks of trees, shook out leafy heads of hair and joined the parade of strange creatures.

When she reached her bag, two Treewomen held Tanny’s kirtle by the shoulders. They began to dress her while several Daisies laced the sides rather more tightly than Tanny was used to. Maddon laid a circlet of flowers on her head.

“You look as if you belong already,” he admired.

“Belong?”

“Bit of fresh air and exercise in the garden,” he continued. “That gown might actually fit you in a few moon’s time.” Tanny ignored the insult.

“I’m not staying.”

“Where are you planning to go?” Maddon sounded offended.

“Caertraeth.”

“Why?”

“To see my family. Aberfa is dead now. Surely her curse died with her.”

“Hmm…” growled Maddon thoughtfully. “You’re better off staying here.”

“I don’t belong here. I’m not a fairy.”

“You could be, if you wanted.” Tanny considered the variety of fairy creatures. They were graceful, beautiful, delicate and agile — even the Stone Beetles. Tanny was none of these things.

“I need to find my own people,” she resolved.

“They don’t want you,” protested Maddon. Tanny shrugged.

“It’s where I belong.” She shouldered her pack decisively then paused uncertainly. “But I would appreciate a fairy cake before I go.”

“Fairy cake?” Maddon arched his brows, puzzled.

“Aberfa brought one every day.”

“We can offer you fruits, nuts and herbs, but we have no cake.” Tanny accepted these gratefully, eating a large handful of berries on the spot. They tasted familiar. Tanny examined one. Sweet juice stained her fingers indigo, the same colour as the veins decorating her body in spidery patterns.
These were in my cakes! But the faeries didn’t make them…
She stored the rest in her pack along with her thoughts.

“Caertraeth lies that way.” Maddon gestured toward a mountain range west of the river. “I would help, but I cannot leave the garden. If you are determined to find your people, the selkies on the shore might help you cross.” He emphasised the word
might
. Maddon, body once more the size of an impressive butterfly, spread his wings and gently kissed Tanny’ forehead. “There is something fairy in you, dear Princess. Remember that.”

The selkies were not difficult to find: swimming in the river, sun-bathing on rocks, paddling along the shore. There were around thirty of them — all female — in various states of human-animal transformation. The selkies were not delicate, graceful fairies. They were a different kind of beautiful: tall, muscular women with tanned bodies that glistened wetly, as if they had been oiled or polished. Tanny perceived little difference between their human skin and their seal hides. The transition was gradual and not always consistent. One selkie waded through the shallows on legs, but made patterns in the water with flippered arms. She turned as Tanny approached.

“Princess Tangwystl,” she greeted, swiftly sprouting arms and hands, as if partial transformation was a sign of bad manners. This appeared to be her only understanding of modesty.
Doesn’t anyone wear clothes?

“I wish to cross the river, please,” requested Tanny

“What lies beyond the river for you?” asked the selkie dubiously.

“My home Caertraeth.”

“Home is a place where you are wanted,” challenged the selkie.

“Home is where you come from,” Tanny defended. The seal woman considered Tanny thoughtfully.

“The way is difficult, Princess. You may cross our river, but the mountains are far more treacherous.”

“Perhaps I shall find friends to help me.” Tanny met the seal woman’s shifty gaze steadily. Finally the selkie smiled and offered her hand.

“My name is Seirian and I shall help you. Do you swim, Princess?”

“No.” Aberfa provided a wooden tub for bathing, but it was no bigger than its purpose required. Tanny lay down her pack and took the offered hand, then paused. “I don’t usually bathe in my clothes.”

“Nor should you swim in them,” giggled Seirian. Tanny exhaled in relief as she un-fastened the tight lacings. She lifted the kirtle off her head then paused again, blushing. Tanny had never been naked in front of anyone but Aberfa…and not even in front of her for many years. But it would be silly to get her shift wet before her journey had even begun. She swallowed hard, hastily pulled off her shift and charged into the water.

If climbing down from her tower had made Tanny truly aware of her weight, then swimming in the selkies’ river made her utterly forget it. The water embraced, cradled and supported her as nothing (and no one) had ever done. She bobbed and bubbled along its surface, buoyed by the body that had always tied her so firmly to the earth. It meant nothing now. Her weight was nothing. She was nothing. Just ripples on the water that danced with the current. Her splashing giggles drew the attention of several other seal women, who playfully swapped form, surrounding her like a vortex of the loveliest whirlpool.

“Not a swimmer?” laughed Seirian. “You look as if you were born in the water.” Her seal sisters echoed the sentiment in tuneful chorus.

“Perhaps I was,” panted Tanny delightedly, paddling toward a large rock for a rest. The selkie pulled herself up beside Tanny and gave the young woman a long, hard look.

“There is something of the selkie in you,” pronounced Seirian with certainty, as if commenting on the existence of Tanny’s nose.

“I am no selkie,” scoffed Tanny.

“No,” agreed the seal woman. “But, you are no true human either.”

“Maddon said I was part fairy. Now you say I am selkie. Seems everyone wants to claim me,” Tanny pondered gloomily. Because she knew it was untrue. They lay on the rock in silence for several moments. Tanny waved her legs idly in the water, enjoying the weightlessness, then looked out to the western shore where a large waterfall crashed through a gorge in the mountains, filling the river with white foam.

“I thought selkies lived in the sea,” questioned Tanny.

“Our river feeds the sea,” explained Seirian. Tanny looked toward the waterfall pouring from the mountain.

“Don’t you mean the sea feeds—”

“Our river feeds the sea,” Seirian insisted. Tanny looked more closely and observed a strange phenomenon: the waterfall ran backwards. The contents of the selkies’ river were indeed flowing up through the gorge. It gathered itself in a ballooning crest of hydro-powered spray before thrusting upward to the mountains.

“How?” Tanny puzzled.

“Selkie magic,” Seirian winked. She cupped a handful of water between tanned fingers and poured it into Tanny’s thirsty mouth. It sparkled sweetly across her tongue, but also tasted faintly of salt.

“Aberfa brought me water from your river,” realised Tanny.

“We allowed the witch to take from us in exchange for certain services,” explained Seirian with haughty dignity.

“I drank from the selkies’ river every day of my life,” Tanny pondered.

“If you stayed with us, you would grow strong.” Seirian rubbed a slick thumb across Tanny’s salt wet lips. “You would shine if you sealed yourself to us.”
Seal myself to you…stay with the selkies…become a selkie?
Tanny thought about that. She was certainly more graceful in the water than on the land, but strong? Shining? Tanned? Sleek? Tanny was none of these things.

“I belong with my own people,” Tanny resolved. Seirian nodded gravely, disappointed but accepting.

“I will help you but I cannot leave the river. If you are determined, the trolls of the mountains might help you cross. The river will carry you up to them.” Tanny looked to the water rushing violently through the gorge. It did not look safe. She clung more tightly to her rock.

“How do I…”

“There is something of the selkie in you, Tangwystl,” Seirian intoned. “Trust that and just let go.” Seirian back-flipped off the rock ledge and swam to the edge of the foamy riot swimming at the base of the water rise. “Princess Tangwystl,” Seirian called back. “It will do you no harm to let go!”

It will do me no harm to let go.
Tanny closed her eyes and opened her arms. She let the water pull her buoyant body along. Harder and harder it pulled, floating her faster and faster toward the reverse water fall. Seirian swam alongside her, calling out comforting words of encouragement. Tanny couldn’t decide if falling down or falling up was more terrifying. Gravity was a powerful thing: it twirled, tossed and dipped her in a rapid dance. The water pressed the small of her back like a waltz partner, leading her through the current.