[Nurumaiel]

Though Falco did not show it, he was very annoyed, and even slightly angry. He was angry with himself, for having ever relented as much as he did to the Elf, but he was angrier with her. His mood, which had been improving, had once again grown sullen and grumpy. When he had arrived at the home where Camille dwelt with her family, and seen small Rory looking from one to the other, unable to walk, he had felt his heart go out to the boy, and had blessed Camille for giving him the task of bringing her brother home. And then that Elf had taken two long strides and lifted up the boy in her arms without a word. It was more than Falco could bear. He wanted to carry little Rory to the Inn. Camille had asked him to do it.

There was no doubt in his mind that, if he were a little boy feeling so grievously wronged and going to his mother for consolation, she would have looked at him with a gentle little smile, saying: "Now, Falco, don't you think that is just a wee bit ridiculous?" Perhaps she would think so, and perhaps they would all think so, but to him it was no small matter. He had wanted to carry that frail little body up to the Inn. It was partly because Camille had asked him, Falco Headstrong, to do it, and he had agreed, but it was more because of his constant longing to help the little weak things. That longing would have merely made him regret that he had not moved to help before the Elf, but he experienced anger rather than regret, because he felt he should have been the one. He had been asked.

Conversation with Rory's mother had helped him refrain from his sour looks towards the Elf, but even that pleasant conversation had been a slight wear on his nerves. He could not casually converse, but he was compelled to cautiously converse. He wanted to say nothing of his plans for helping the family, for fear of making her stiffen at the thought of receiving 'charity.'

When they arrived at the Inn he was pleased to see that, after placing Rory next to Marigold on the window-seat, the Elf left. Now Falco would take full advantage of the situation. He would make up for having his duty stolen from him. He would sit by Rory, talk to Rory, play with Rory, and he would not leave Rory's side for the rest of the evening. He would make sure he was always there first to attend to Rory, even if it meant he had to scamper like a hare to match the Elf's long, graceful steps. Come to think of it... that Elf had stopped him from helping that Big Folk fellow by helping him herself. Would she never let him, Falco Headstrong, show an act of kindness? Was she so jealous of letting others be kind?

"It's not me," he muttered viciously, crushing the thought that flashed through his mind. "I'm not in the least jealous of the kind things she has done. If she went and did something of her own accord I would be very pleased that she had done so. But she has only ever stepped in front of me to do what I had already offered and agreed to do."

"Now, Falco, don't you think that is just a wee bit ridiculous?" came a gentle voice, echoing softly from his past.

He grit his teeth, and before going to the window-seat to sit with Rory and Marigold, muttered: "No, Mother, I don't."