Gracie the Short Elf

My name is Gracie. I am an Elf. A short Elf. I’m so short that a lot of people mistake me for a human, which doesn’t sound bad, but trust me, it is. Even my younger brother is taller than me, meaning everyone in my family looks down on me, both physically and mentally. They think that because I’m short that I’m not a “real Elf”, and they all think that my father (who is also an Elf) can’t be my father if I turned out this short.
In our village, it’s predominantly elves, which is where half of the problem comes from. Everybody sees me as some kind of outsider, just because I’m below average height. At all of our village events and parties, I’m hidden behind a crowd of torsos, ignored, all because nobody can even hear me because they’re so much taller than me.
Anyway, now that I’m a bit older my village council have invited me and my parents to a meeting where they will talk about maybe banishing me because they don’t think I’m a “real” Elf. Of course I’m a real Elf! I’m standing right here, aren’t I? My mum tells me it’s nothing to worry about, that they’d never actually banish me, they’re just doing it to please the oldest member on the council who still abides by the old laws, but I’m still worried. I think anyone would be if it’s being considered that they’re banished from their own village!
At the hearing the council basically said that they would have to put the decision to a village vote, and if I was voted out I would have one full cycle of the moon before I had to leave. The vote will take place at this weekend’s market in the town square. That’s only five days away. What if I get voted out? Where will I go? What will I do?
I’ve made the decision that I’m going to make the most of every day before the vote in case I do get voted out, as I’ll regret not making the most of my time later if I have to leave. Anyway, today I’m going to go out and pick flowers to make a bouquet for my mum. She’ll love it. There are many wildflowers growing towards the borders of our village, so I’ll go and collect some and be alone with my thoughts for a while.
I walked to the very limits of the village and foraged around on the ground for the most beautiful of the flowers. I found a few daisies which I quickly tied together to make a small daisy chain to tie the bouquet together; it had only occurred to me a few minutes ago that I should have bought some string with me. I sifted through the grass a bit more and found a small cluster of what we call Baby Blue Eyes, and stuffed them into the daisy chain band. After another brief sift I found some snowdrops, which joined the rest of the flowers. I guess being shorter than everyone else had its benefits, as none of the guards on patrol saw me and told me to stop!
Soon my hands began to pick and stuff the flowers automatically, and it was only the shadow that my body cast as the sun went down that made me realise what time it was! I quickly ran home, bouquet in hand, and as I breathlessly opened the door to our house, presented the mish-mash of flowers to my mum, who accepted it gratefully and placed it into a container of water.
While we all ate dinner everyone sensed my nerves for the upcoming vote and had the sense to keep the topic far away. After we finished dinner I went to my bedroom and fell asleep almost as soon as my head touched the pillow.
Four days left. What shall I do today to occupy myself from thinking about my impending doom? After some tough, thorough thought I came to the conclusion that I should help my mum with making our clothes, and clothes to sell. I wasn’t very good at craft, but I was useful to do the little things, like sew things together or fold the clothes into neat piles for her to take to the market, the market where the vote would take place.
Ugh. There’s that thought again. No matter how much I try to cast it out of my mind, it keeps on coming back. Again, and again, and again. The next few days went by in a blur of misery, as I kept on thinking about what my fate will be after the vote. It still shocks me to think that a village would cast out one of their own just because they don’t look the same as everyone else. It’s disgusting.
As the sun rose on the morning of the vote, my mum took me to where the vote would take place and we sat on a small bench and watched as all of the inhabitants of the village - my neighbours - poured into the square. A small stall had been set up where pieces of parchment had two small boxes labelled “yay” and “nay” lay under a heading; “Banishment of Gracie Frey”.
Keep calm. A voice in my head kept saying. With every passing second my heart beat faster.
Keep calm. The words kept on repeating until I could no longer hear what was happening around me.
The town slowly came to order in a large group. The vote result was about to be announced.
My eyesight began to become blurry as I felt my heart beat faster and faster. I only heard the words: “The village has voted as follows; Yay: 39, Nay: 28.”
My ears started ringing as the results set into my mind. I’d be leaving the village forever in 30 days.
My days blurred together into a miserable mess until one day, just 5 days before I was to leave, a dilemma had occurred in the town centre. A child, about my age, had become stuck in the well. Nobody was able to climb down to save them on the rope or even do anything because their tall figure meant that their weight was too heavy for the well too support.
I decided that they didn’t need my help; they’d figure out a solution somehow. After several long minutes of walking around, I decided that just because the town had been awful to me, I didn’t need to be awful to them. My moral compass was still the same.
I made my way back to the well and tied the rope around my waste. Due to my petite figure, I would be able to be lowered into the well without crashing down to the floor at the end. As I was being lowered down I saw the girl who I was helping and shouted down to her, asking her to stand up and get ready to go back up to the surface. I asked her if she could tie knots, but apparently she couldn’t, and so when my feet touched the bottom of the well, I untied my makeshift rope sling and started doing hers up. I told her to hold on tight to the rope as the rope I had tied wouldn’t support her top half, and she would be swinging a lot as she was pulled up. As I finished my sentence, the rope started being pulled back up.
I waited for what seemed like hours, but in truth it was only probably about twenty minutes. I tied the rope again and I was pulled up to the surface and then as soon as I stepped out of the well, the village council greeted me and told me that due to my act of bravery that I was not to be banished from the village. I guess being different from everyone else isn’t a bad thing after all!