Sub Rosa

A/N - Thanks again to my honey-tongued reviewers, Kate, Tamargirl and Lady Aidil, who keep me going! For those of you who are reading and not reviewing (And don\'t think I can\'t read the counter) I know you are out there and I hope you will review if you see any errors or problems at least. I am counting on you all. Kate can\'t do it all on her own! (This story written around the attack kittens of doom who think my fingers on a keyboard are the BEST toy.)

Chapter 45 – The Elemental Truths

Kathryn was tired and aching. They had walked most of the day. The elves were tireless, they could have gone all night, but the children were flagging and Kathryn needed to take one of the pain potions that Severus had supplied her.

They entered a large cavern, this time without the accompanying drop into an abyss. It reminded Kathryn of the cavern where Arthur rested. Glittering rock formations and glowing fungus decorated the huge space. It was breathtaking.

Kathryn called for a halt and the kids collapsed in a heap, leaning on each other and comparing blisters.
The elves chuckled at the youngsters and the flame-colored archer began teasing them about “real” marches that he had been on.

“Twenty days straight, running across rock covered hills with no breaks!” The kids rolled their eyes and Dean flipped the elf off behind his back.

Tali set a fire, while the wolfish servant, called Buod, Kathryn learned, set up the tents for the night. Kathryn would have called them pavilions, but the elves were quite dismissive of them. Soft silken forms drifted upwards, draped with flags and decorated with beading and fine embroidery. If these were the elves’ idea of pup tents, she was desperate to know what a true pavilion looked like.

The third servant, a scrawny, huge-eyed female who darted around like a water bug, fetched food and water and began dinner. Before an hour was out the group was huddled around the fire, eating fruit and roast meat.
The Minstrel pulled his harp onto his lap as the meal ended and began to play and sing. Kathryn sat spellbound, listening to the elf’s voice as it wound up and down the octaves. He had an incredible range and a pure clarity of tone that was like the pealing of bells one moment and then would drop to a warm thrum that sent chills down the spine the next.

Kathryn remembered the tune from her childhood, the elvish words had been translated for Morgan’s descendants, but the tale was far older than Morgan herself and she had sung it to the child Kathryn had been with a bitter poignancy.

It was the tale of the bard Taliesin, loved by the Queen of the Fey, taken from his home and lands and wrapped up in the loving arms of his royal lady. The song started out sweetly enough, love’s burgeoning hope, the soft flirtatious arpeggios of the harp, blending lightly with the minstrel’s voice. Their relationship was outlined with soft sweet notes of lingering tone, but quickly the notes fell to a more somber quality, as he grew lonely for home and family. Finally the soft dying tones of grief and pain as he left his love to stand once more on the shores of his home land, aging rapidly as his eyes drank in the place of his birth, dying even as he reached the stoop of his former home and falling to ash before the eyes of his great-grandchildren.

As the last notes faded away, their soft echo bouncing forlornly around the cavern, the elves rose to go to sleep and the children dragged themselves out of the Minstrel’s spell to follow.

Kathryn stood and bowed deeply to the minstrel, respect and admiration for his song in the deepness of the bow. He smiled at her, amused by her delicate phrasings of the elvish song of manners.

“Little sister, tomorrow we will face battle.” She nodded in response to his words. “The children you bring with you are strong warriors despite their ages, but I am concerned for them.” Kathryn smiled at him.

“Should the battle prove un-winnable or the danger to the children prove too great, I have a portkey that will bring them to safety.” He nodded and did not even comment on her use of the word “them”. Regardless of what happened tomorrow, Harry and the other would be safe, even if it required her to guard their back trail with her life. If she did die tomorrow, she hoped that Severus would forgive her.


Morning was marked by the chirping of her timepiece rather than by any external changes.

The unchanging darkness of the caverns, lit briefly by their passage then fading back to endless night, was disorienting to the humans. The elves could feel the rising of the sun even miles underground, or so the stone faced warrior woman told them, brushing her long blonde braid back over her shoulder with an arrogant gesture, and Kathryn had no reason to doubt her words.

They ate a quick breakfast as Buod moved amongst the tents with nimble fingers, causing them to drop with graceful fluttering to the cavern floor. He folded them swiftly and tucked them into tiny pouches, folding the posts up and strapping the whole onto the back of one of the golden donkeys.

Hermione kept trying to help him, only to be gently shooed away. She stomped over to Kathryn and with her hands on her hips peered up into her face.

“Why won’t he let me help?” She groused.

“He has been performing this same task for several hundred years, he has a system.” She kept her face still and didn’t let a trace of her inner amusement show as Hermione’s expression became slightly petulant.

“But it’s wrong to enslave other people.” She insisted, as she hoisted her own backpack and began to walk alongside Kathryn.

“Who says the servants are slaves?” Kathryn retorted. Hermione paused with her mouth partly open to reply and then snapped it shut. “Have you seen them mistreated or given anything less than respect?”

“No, but they’re servants.” Hermione stated this with a little more doubtful tone.

“They serve, yes.” Kathryn replied. “Why is this a bad thing?” Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it. “Some people are good at swinging a sword, some are good at math and some are really good at packing a tent. Each of these skills is valued by the Elders as being equally important in the grand scheme of things. Servants receive the same Fahelle as warriors.” She added.

“Fah-what?” Hermione looked quite non-plussed.

“Fahelle, child.” The warrior woman interjected with a sharp note in her voice. “Respect, dignity, right of place, honor, there is no direct translation into your tongue.”

“It’s close to the Japanese concept of “Giri”, but it is very hard to describe in terms that you would be familiar with.” Kathryn shrugged at the girl, at a loss as to how to describe the complexities of elvish culture to a sixteen-year-old girl.

“One who serves is honored for their service in our culture.” The blonde added. “To give true service, to show loyalty and skill is a great undertaking.”

“But what about the house elves? None of them get paid! Some of them are horribly abused!” Hermione’s voice was insistent and the Elvin woman looked at her in surprise.

“The little ones? They were formed for service but if they are mistreated the dishonor is on their protectors. As for money, your kind alwaalways valued it too highly.” She shrugged. Hermione was obviously gearing up for another round.

“Miss Granger, what would you have the house elves do?” Kathryn remained patient, knowing that much of the situation was brought on by good intentions.

“Whatever they want to do, of course, but they should have a choice!” Hermione frowned.

“Can your males bear young?” The elf woman asked with sharp suddenness.

“Of course not!” Hermione retorted.

“But should they not have the choice?” A delicate elfin eyebrow was arched at Hermione.

“It’s not a manner of choice, its just not physically possible!”

“Well, it is not physically possible for the little ones to not serve. They were formed for it.” She gave Hermione a graceful shrug.

“But Dobby receives payment.” Her voice was a little softer, confusion replacing righteous indignation.

“But he serves, does he not?” Hermione remained quiet. “In fact, is he not the only one that will serve the Gryffindor tower?” This surprised Kathryn, but she saw Harry wince from the corner of her eye.

“What?” Hermione was staring at the fey with an appalled look.

“No other will care for the place because of the traps laid there.” Harry was edging away from the group, but Kathryn caught him by the collar of his cloak and pulled him back. Hermione wore a look of devastation.

“Something you would care to add?” Kathryn tugged the boy around to face Hermione.

“It’s true, Hermione. Dobby cleans the whole tower by himself and he keeps all the clothes.” Tears sprung into the girl’s eyes and her face crumpled. “But he really loves your knitting! He wears three or four of the hats at a time!” He added desperately.

“So it was all for nothing?” She was walking and crying and the elf woman, normally so stony of visage, softened.

“Kindness is never for nothing, but it must be tempered with understanding.” She replied. Kathryn nodded.

“There are no laws on the books in England to protect the House Elves, you know.” Hermione perked up.

“Are there in America?” She asked.

“Yes, actually. In America we liberated the House Elves from the ancient compact around 1860.” The elves around her looked very interested and the conversation spread to the whole group.

“Indeed, little sister that was well done of you.” The icy blonde replied.

“What does that men?” Hermione was bouncing again, tears being brushed away by Ron’s handkerchief. He took her hand and kissed her lightly on one soggy cheek.

“The ancient compact was created when we began to withdraw from the world. The younger kin, the ones bound to this world, could not pass the gates.” Her voice, once cold, began to warm with her tale. All elves were born storytellers, loving the flow of language.

“We humans made a compact with some of the lesser fey, like the house elves.” Kathryn added and the elf nodded.

“They bound the little ones to them with blood and spell to serve till dismissed.”

“But the Americans broke the compact?” Ron asked, a look of intense interest on his face.

“Well, yes and no, the compact was too strong to be destroyed, so we modified it. We put in what Grandmother Leblanc likes to call the Noblesse Oblige clause. The original compact that bound them to serve us was modified to bind us to protect them as well.”

Hermione looked pleased at this, as did the other elves. “We granted them the right to wear clothes of their choosing, to receive further education and to serve in the home of their choice. We created laws to protect them and granted them citizenship, so they have the right to trial and the right to sue.” She grinned at the group.

“Trust me, you don’t want to be sued by your house elf, they always hire goblin lawyers.” General laughter greeted this.

“So, there is something I can do for the house elves.” Hermione was beaming at Kathryn.

“When we go to Lieu D’Asile for Christmas, you can meet our crew. I am sure Prue will be thrilled to expound on the rights and duties of both humans and house elves.” Kathryn chuckled, imagining the diminutive Prue declaiming with her usual broad gestures to the eager audience that she knew Hermione would be.

“I’m looking forward to it.” Hermione was ecstatic at the thought. Ron rolled his eyes at Harry and Harry winked back.

“So, does this mean you will stop leaving knitted clothes around the tower?” Harry asked.

“Who has time to knit? I have NEWTs next year and I have to study the history of the American legal system to find out what I need to do next. There are laws to pass.” Her eyes had that steely glint of determination and Kathryn chuckled. The boys gave each other high-fives behind her back.

The Minstrel waved them to silence and they obeyed. As they fell still a sound edged its way into their consciousness.

The noise was a hammering, a constant low level pounding, that was strangely chilling in the otherwise silent caverns.

They crept forward, and Kathryn edged out in front, peering around a bend in the passage. Before her spread a cavern bigger than any they had seen before, it was three times larger than a Quidditch field. The ceiling soared high above and the place swarmed with kobolds.

They were small, squat creatures. The destructive pixies swarmed across every surface of the place. There were thousands of them and Kathryn watched them with some grave doubts in her mind.

The Minstrel peeked around her snorsnorted in disgust.

“Filthy creatures.” He muttered.

“I think I had better send the kids back. There are just too many of them.” She felt the elf nodding beside her and they withdrew back to the others.

Reaching into her cloak pocket she pulled out an empty bottle of butterbeer and set it on the ground. The kids all looked at it with surprise and confusion.

“All right, there are just too many of them for me to be certain I can keep you safe. I promised Albus that if I thought you were all in too much danger, I would send you back.” Looks of surprise and outrages bloomed on the kids’ faces.

“What happened to “we weren’t just kids.” Ginny asked, fury etched across her features.

“Miss Weasley, look around that corner and tell me you can take them all.” Kathryn challenged. Ginny marched forward, poked her head around the corner and froze in place. When she returned her face was milky and her eyes were wide.

“Well, Miss Weasley, do you wish to stay?”

“No, Professor.” Ginny looked at her shame-faced. The other students looked back and forth between the elves and Kathryn and then looked at each other. Harry sighed and stepped forward.

“I want to stay, you will need our help, if only for back-up.” His voice was calm and reasoned and Kathryn thought seriously about his offer.

A sudden noise startled them and they spun to see a small kobold, twisted features screwed up in alarm, staring at them and chittering loudly.

“No time! I am sorry Mr. Potter!” She cast the portkey spell on the bottle and tossed it to Tali. “Take them home, Tali!” She ordered, her voice crisp and Tali nodded. The pale elf maiden vanished, drawing the students after her with a tug of her magic.

Kathryn turned and drew both gun and wand, watching the elves pull weapons and begin the howling ululation that was their battle cry. Her own screams lost in the general roar, Kathryn charged into battle.