Chapter 2: Home (Part 3)

At first the dwarfs didn't know what to think of Alf, her being so weak and hairless, but she quickly made her home in the dwarfs' hearts as well as their house. As soon as Alf got over shyness for her new family she revealed herself to be a right little tyrant, accustomed to bossing servants around. She tried the same trick on the dwarfs and learned they wouldn't wouldn't stand for that sort of nonsense, much to her dismay. There were, however, a few things they gave into, having a soft spot for their little friend. Even Monday, though unapproachable before noon, liked to spoil Alf – provided none of his brothers were witness.

Wednesday brought it to everyone's attention that leaving axes, knives and dragon sized nail clippers lying around the house was not OK with a small, soft skinned human poking about, and dust covering all the furniture couldn't be healthy either. There was also the slight problem of finding a place for Alf to sleep; they tried next to the hearth, under the kitchen table, and finally bunking in the dwarfs' room, but after many restless nights trying to sleep through the snoring, and then getting stepped on for the dozenth time, it was agreed that she should get her own room.

When it could be put off no longer, Sunday organized the first known observance of Spring Cleaning. This was no simple tidying up; decades of clutter had to be sorted through, entire rooms emptied, and mountains of dishes washed. The jobs had been split seven ways over a poker game the night before, but there was still plenty of grumbling from those luck had fated to sweep the chimney. Alf could be seen bouncing from one end of the house to the other, trying to help but really just getting in the way, caught up in the excitement of the day. She payed special attention to the development of the attic, which was to become her own room. Tuesday chatted with her as he sorted through boxes of old accounting books and unwanted hand-knit accessories from their grandmother, forgotten over the years.

“I don't know how she does it, our gran,” Tuesday said, “she's got near a hundred grandkids to think about but she never forgets to make a hat or sweater or something for each an' every one of us.”

“That's sweet of her,” Alf chirped, she let Tuesday ramble on as she tried to decipher a page full of dwarven runes. Tuesday turned the book right side up for her and continued.

“I wish she wouldn't though, she's awful-horrible at knitting. And she's been practicing for around two hundred years, she ought to have gotten better. Just look at this thing,” he held up an example of his dear old gran's handiwork, a vaguely green lump of interwoven yarn of varying thickness and color, ranging from puke yellow to how-long-has-that-been-in-the-ice-box brown, Alf was unsure whether the mouse nest in the sleeve was originally there or a recent addition. Tuesday tossed it over to the throw-away pile, grimacing. “Is it a scarf? A shirt? We can only guess.”

“If you don't like it, why'dya keep it so long?”

Tuesday shrugged, “Don't rightly know. We just put her presents up her with everything else we don't want to think about. We don't like coming up here, so it's easy to forget about this junk.”

“Why don't you like coming up to the attic? I think it's neat!”

He sensed the beginning of an endless repetition of these “why” questions, but he humored her, “Dwarfs don't much care for high up places. Ladders give me the heeby-jeebies. That's why we like sleeping in the basement, you know, it feels like the mountain caves back home.”

“Oh.” Alf digested that nugget of information, she was learning a lot about people that weren't human. “But if you're afraid of heights-”

“Not afraid,” Tuesday cut in, “just don't like it is all. Ain't natural for earth-loving folk to try and climb away from it.”

“Yes but why, if you don't like heights, do you ride dragons? Way up high?”

The girl's innocent question caught Tuesday off guard. He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it, opened it again, and pulled his eyebrows down to where they met up with his nose. “Huh,” he said, “I guess I hadn't thought of that.”

Alf giggled wickedly, pleased to have caught an elder in his hypocrisy.