Chapter 3: The Elf
Seeking feedback on my work-in-process fantasy novel, The Princess and the Pea Tavern
May 19, 2026
Philomena
He’s an elf?? Philomena’s mind whirled. What is he doing out in the open around the humans? It isn’t safe.
Alban let his long hair fall back over his pointed ears and she shifted her attention back to his emerald eyes as they crinkled in amusement.
“So,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows. “You know what I am now. But the question remains— why didn’t you recognize it right away? I can’t say I’ve met many gnomes myself, but surely your magic can sense other magic folk?”
Philomena opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “That’s— I—” It wasn’t often she was rendered speechless but it seemed to keep happening around this man. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.
He grinned, leaning back into his seat. “I work here.”
Philomena’s expression fell flat and she leveled her gaze at him, crossing her arms. “You know what I mean. Why is someone like you, working here in a tavern on a busy human road?”
“Someone like me? What’s wrong with me, Fee?” he cocked his head at her, the very picture of innocence.
Philomena simply raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“Alright,” Alban laughed. “I’ll answer your question if you answer mine first.”
Huffing out a breath, she considered. Philomena didn’t owe this elf an explanation, but she had to admit she was curious about him. She hadn’t run into any other magical folk in many, many years.
“Fine. The reason I couldn’t detect you is because my magic is…” She paused, second guessing whether she should admit a vulnerability to a stranger.
At her hesitation, Alban’s expression softened. “You don’t have to say if you don’t want to. I’m just trying to get to know you.”
Something about his voice loosened the tightness in her chest and she took a deep settling breath. “No, it’s okay. The truth is I haven’t told anyone this, but it’s my magic that’s the problem. It’s… weak. I can really only access garden magic ever since… well, for a while now.”
Bracing herself for his mocking or laughter, Philomena looked away, watching the crackling flames in the large stove in the corner of the restaurant. After a moment of silence, she dared to sneak a glance at him, only to find the elf appraising her with concern etched between his brows.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You can laugh. A gnome without magic— it’s ridiculous.”
“It isn’t funny. I’m sorry.”
She stared at him, waiting for the punchline. But he held her gaze, looking at her in a way that made her feel like he was really seeing her. Philomena wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
Clearing her throat she shifted in her seat and said, “Well, I answered your question. It’s your turn. What’s an elf doing working at The Pea Tavern?”
“Fair enough,” he said, and Philomena let out a sigh, grateful that he was going to let her change the subject. “But my story is long, and it’s late,” he gestured out the open door to the fading light. “It will be full dark by the time I’m finished, so if you want to hear it, you’ll have to promise to stay the night in one of the rooms upstairs.”
Philomena glanced out the door and frowned. He was right that it was getting late. Only a sliver of daylight was left for her to see her way around the forest. It would be difficult to traverse far enough away from the road to find somewhere to camp for the night.
“No moon tonight,” Alban noted, as if he’d read her mind. “And of course the room would be free for the night. It’s not as if we have any paying customers vying for a place to stay.” He smirked, surveying the empty dining room.
Philomena’s hand drifted toward her alarmingly light coin purse. She certainly couldn’t have paid for a room, but she didn’t like owing something to a stranger. Especially a magical one.
“Okay,” she said. “I suppose you’ll owe me a night’s stay after making me listen to your long rambling story all evening.”
Alban laughed, and Philomena’s cheeks warmed as the sound seemed to rumble in her bones.
“Exactly,” he said, still chuckling. “Why don’t I refill your wine first?” He stood, gathering her plates and cup. She followed suit, carrying his cup to the front counter with him.
“We seem to have another thing in common,” he said, his back turned to her as he stepped behind the counter to refill their cups.
“Oh? And what’s that?” She watched his shoulders lift and fall as he took a deep breath, as if steadying himself.
“Well, I’ve also lost some of my magic.” He said it in almost a whisper, the pain seeping into his voice.
“Oh,” Philomena breathed. “I’m sorry. I— You know I understand how difficult it is to lose that part of you.”
“I know you do. Thank you.” He turned toward her with a wry smile, the two cups full of warm wine in his hands. “I wish we had something else in common, instead. Maybe a hobby? Do you like to read by any chance? Cook?”
She smiled, taking the offer to lighten the mood. “As a matter of fact, yes.”
“Well, would you look at that? You’ve checked almost all my boxes.” He handed her the cup of wine and she turned to walk back to their table before pausing and looking up at him.
“Wait, what do you mean almost all your boxes? What are the others?”
“Guess you’ll have to stay to find out.”
“Hmm.” This man is insufferable, she thought, as the corners of her lips curled up without her permission.
“We’re quite the pair, huh?” he said, following her back to their table in the corner of the tavern.
“I am sorry about your magic.” Philomena settled into her chair, savoring a sip of the spiced wine before continuing. “But that doesn’t explain what you’re doing serving soup at a human tavern. This is a place for humans, isn’t it?”
“It is indeed. And as to what I’m doing here,” Alban paused, his eyes drifting to the doorway.
Philomena followed his gaze. She could just make out the outline of the trees across the quiet road in the low light of dusk. Turning back to him, she caught him watching her. “Yes?”
“Why can’t a man just want to serve soup?”
“And do you want to just serve soup?”
He smirked. “Well, the job has its perks.” When she didn’t reply he leaned forward and spoke in a low voice, “For example, I get to meet pretty gnomish girls.”
Philomena huffed out a laugh. “Okay, so I’m to believe that an elf left his own kind to work in a human shop all for the chance to meet the one or two magical folkwomen who visit every century?”
His smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Something like that. I just wanted to… see what’s out here. You know? I’ve always lived in the same forest— my entire life mapped out for me before I was even born. I wanted to see the world. Meet other people. Experience life.”
Philomena couldn’t relate at all. She would do anything to be able to go back to her home, back to her own people. Swallowing her homesickness, she smiled and tried to see his point of view. Maybe if she’d been allowed to stay, if her life hadn’t been completely turned upside down, she would feel the same way. “That’s brave. Setting out on your own like that.”
“Ha.” Alban’s laugh was sharp and almost cruel. “No. No, it wasn’t bravery, I can assure you. It was cowardice. I can at least admit the truth to myself now.”
“Even if you left for the wrong reasons, it still took courage to do this. To live among humans can’t have been easy. I couldn’t have done it.”
“That’s generous of you— but, hey. What about you? You’re out on your own now, aren’t you?”
She sighed, knowing she’d inadvertently led the conversation right to the topic she wanted to avoid. There was just something about this elf that made her want to tell him everything. Settling for the most basic facts, she said, “It wasn’t by choice. My home was destroyed. My people are gone. I’m just trying to survive.”
Alban’s mouth fell open, his eyes wide. “Everyone is gone? You’re on your own? Fee… I had— I wouldn’t have said—”
Despite the lump in her throat, she couldn’t help but smile. “Ah, so I have finally found a way to render the charmer speechless, eh?”
“Fee, really I am sorry,” he said, reaching out a hand to rest on top of hers. “But hold on. You think I’m charming, huh?”
“Of course that’s the only part you’d hear,” she smirked, rolling her eyes. But she didn’t move her hand, savoring the warmth as his large hand completely enveloped her own. It had been far too long since she’d felt the comfort of a friendly touch.
“Do you want to talk about it? Maybe I can help. You can stay here for as long as you need. There’s no reason to be living out in the woods.”
“Thank you for the offer. But I need to be on my way in the morning.” She saw the wrinkle form between his brows and continued on before he could ask any more questions. Taking a deep breath, she said the words she’d never admitted to anyone before. “You see, my people aren’t just gone. They were stolen. And I’m going to get them back.”
Comments (1)
The world building is masterful. I feel like I'm sitting there with them learning about a hard past in a foreign world instead of reading about it. That is really impressive. Your way with characters is just as compelling. It is an exceedingly rare gift to be able to do character work like this. They develop so naturally and their conversation meets such a high standard for, I don't want to say realism, or "compelling" again, but it is both. lol I really enjoyed this!