jmucchiello
Hero
I have her background ready:
Turvin Oldmill, son of Errol and Silma, worked at his parent's flour mill ever since he could remember. He had no siblings and the kids around the neighboring villages would tease him about that. He was told by his mother that they had had trouble conceiving a child until they were blessed with Turvin, named for his great-grandfather, who originally built the mill.
What she didn't tell him was Turvin was not really her offspring. He was given to her during a cold winter by a Fae creature, to raise as her own until his destiny was awakened. What that destiny would be, she did not know but she was desperate for a child and was willing to take in the creature's baby, who looked exactly like a human boy.
The mill employs half a dozen workers and Errol was hoping Turvin would take over the business when it was time.
Turvin was 6' 3” tall as his eighteen “birthday” was to be celebrated. He was a sturdy, strong boy, quick of wit and kind to others. On the morning of his birthday (or, the day Silma received the baby), he awoke to an utterly shocking development. His body had changed overnight from a tall human man to a short, kind of elvish woman. She was now barely a foot tall. Her face was more angular with ears that rose to a near point. But she was definitely not an elf as she also had wings. Wispy, thin wings like an insect.
Before she could scream in shock, a tiny fae creature appeared, floating in front of her on gossamer wings. “Good morning, Eov. It is time.”
“Time? Time for what? What have you done tome?” she shouted, her voice sounding unnaturally high pitched, but pretty like wind chimes. She stood on the bed in a manner she hoped was defiant. But she was looking down at the floor so far away worried how she would get down.
“Oh,dear, you don't know,” the faery said hovering in the air near the bed.
At that moment, Silma entered the room followed soon by Error. “What happ-- You? You've returned.”
“I did. And you did not tell Eov I was coming.”
“I-- I-- I didn't think you would return,” she said starting to cry. “I hoped you would never return.”
“Well, return I did. Come with me, Eov.”
“I don't know who you are but I'm not going anywhere with you,” the new fae cried.
For several minutes a clash of wills played out and in the end, the Fae decided this must be Eov's destiny, so she relented. “As you wish, Eov. Your destiny is yours to make, of course. I was hoping you would welcome going back to your real family. But do stay here among the humans if you believe you must. You will be where you will be. Good luck.”
The mill owners and their new daughter talked for several hours about what to do. They decided to say Turvin went to the city for the family business. “We can't call you Turvin. And I suspect you don't want to be called what the faery called you, Eov.”
“It was short for Eovin. I kind of like it. Eovin Silmalass.”
Errol was surprised by the surname but said nothing about it. “I don't see how you can work in the mill any more,”
“I know,” Eovin said. “I need to figure out who I am.”
“Maybe you should have gone with her.”
Eovin's wings fluttered and she lifted off the ground. She flew up to be eye level with her mother. “I'll figure it out without her.”
Turvin Oldmill, son of Errol and Silma, worked at his parent's flour mill ever since he could remember. He had no siblings and the kids around the neighboring villages would tease him about that. He was told by his mother that they had had trouble conceiving a child until they were blessed with Turvin, named for his great-grandfather, who originally built the mill.
What she didn't tell him was Turvin was not really her offspring. He was given to her during a cold winter by a Fae creature, to raise as her own until his destiny was awakened. What that destiny would be, she did not know but she was desperate for a child and was willing to take in the creature's baby, who looked exactly like a human boy.
The mill employs half a dozen workers and Errol was hoping Turvin would take over the business when it was time.
Turvin was 6' 3” tall as his eighteen “birthday” was to be celebrated. He was a sturdy, strong boy, quick of wit and kind to others. On the morning of his birthday (or, the day Silma received the baby), he awoke to an utterly shocking development. His body had changed overnight from a tall human man to a short, kind of elvish woman. She was now barely a foot tall. Her face was more angular with ears that rose to a near point. But she was definitely not an elf as she also had wings. Wispy, thin wings like an insect.
Before she could scream in shock, a tiny fae creature appeared, floating in front of her on gossamer wings. “Good morning, Eov. It is time.”
“Time? Time for what? What have you done tome?” she shouted, her voice sounding unnaturally high pitched, but pretty like wind chimes. She stood on the bed in a manner she hoped was defiant. But she was looking down at the floor so far away worried how she would get down.
“Oh,dear, you don't know,” the faery said hovering in the air near the bed.
At that moment, Silma entered the room followed soon by Error. “What happ-- You? You've returned.”
“I did. And you did not tell Eov I was coming.”
“I-- I-- I didn't think you would return,” she said starting to cry. “I hoped you would never return.”
“Well, return I did. Come with me, Eov.”
“I don't know who you are but I'm not going anywhere with you,” the new fae cried.
For several minutes a clash of wills played out and in the end, the Fae decided this must be Eov's destiny, so she relented. “As you wish, Eov. Your destiny is yours to make, of course. I was hoping you would welcome going back to your real family. But do stay here among the humans if you believe you must. You will be where you will be. Good luck.”
The mill owners and their new daughter talked for several hours about what to do. They decided to say Turvin went to the city for the family business. “We can't call you Turvin. And I suspect you don't want to be called what the faery called you, Eov.”
“It was short for Eovin. I kind of like it. Eovin Silmalass.”
Errol was surprised by the surname but said nothing about it. “I don't see how you can work in the mill any more,”
“I know,” Eovin said. “I need to figure out who I am.”
“Maybe you should have gone with her.”
Eovin's wings fluttered and she lifted off the ground. She flew up to be eye level with her mother. “I'll figure it out without her.”
