Falke and Ilse

Three sat in front of a banking fire on an unseasonably chilly night. The conversation, which had been lively, had given way to a companionable silence. In the kitchen, stoneware scraped flintily as Annelinde Gambrell put clean dishes away.

At length, Lukas broke the silence by stretching noisily. “I’ll go see if Mother needs help,” he announced. Falke glanced towards Ilse in time to catch a small smile playing about her lips. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was thinking. He turned to look over his shoulder at his best friend. He decided to skip the smart remark about the wisdom of combining Lukas’ customary clumsiness with pottery. This once.

“Sure, Lukas... want me to come, too?”

“No, no, you can stay here. I won’t be gone long,” Lukas replied. Falke smiled to himself. Was there admonition in his friend’s tone or was he just imagining it? Falke turned back to look into the fire as Lukas left the room, swinging his long arms as he went. There was a sound of fleshy bone hitting wood followed by a pained “ouch!” Falke winced in sympathy. Lots of things might change, but Lukas never would.

One of the things which had changed drastically was Ilse, Lukas’ little sister. Falke allowed himself a quick sideways glance at her, hoping she wouldn’t notice. She was gazing into the orange flames, looking pensive. The firelight played in her black hair and kissed her fair skin. Falke wondered, not for the first time, where the scabby-kneed little girl who always used to follow them around had gone. Ilse was no longer all skinny limbs and unkempt hair. She was, quite simply, enchanting. He supposed the change must have occurred gradually, but for all the attention he had ever paid to her, it might as well have happened overnight.

Ilse must have noticed him looking at her for she suddenly glanced his way and smiled a small shy smile. Falke couldn’t be sure whether the colour in her cheeks was due to the heat of the fire or to something else. He hoped it was something else. He felt warmth rise in his own cheeks and looked away. With Lukas gone, the room had become unexpectedly awkward. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ilse turn her face downwards to contemplate her small hands. She did that a lot around him.

Falke cast about for something to say, and came up empty-handed. He wished Lukas would come back, because his collar quite inexplicably was beginning to constrict his throat, much like he’d heard certain large snakes did to kill their prey. Not that he’d ever seen such a snake - for all he knew, such a beast might just be an old wives’ tale... He was rambling. Thank goodness, not aloud. He stood up abruptly and moved towards the hearth. His eyes had settled on a stick that was poking out of the flames. He sat down on the floor and pulled it out of the fire. Letting his mind wander, he blew out a few small licking tongues of flame and then let his hand move the stick how it would, drawing charred lines on the stones of the hearth.

“What are you doing, Falke?” Ilse asked curiously and with a hint of alarm. Of course; most sane adults wouldn’t sit on the floor and doodle with burned sticks. He glanced down at what he’d drawn. A scribble, nothing more. Reaching, he rubbed out the offending lines of black. “No, don’t erase it... I wanted to see.” Ilse had moved to the floor next to him. He looked her way sheepishly. She was gazing at him in that shy, quiet way of hers that made him just want to enfold her in his arms and hold her close.

“I,” he began. Why should spending time with Ilse be so difficult? “It wasn’t anything really.” He struggled to find something they could talk about before the moment was lost and she left him alone by the hearth, a tongue-tied fool. “Look!” he said at last. He drew something carefully on the hearthstones. “This is the letter ‘A’. It’s the first sound in ‘apple’ and the middle sound in ‘cat,’ but it also is the middle sound in ‘gate,’ so you can’t always count on it to always... sound... the same.” He realized as the words were leaving his mouth how idiotic he must seem to Ilse, discussing letters instead of her and him and what sort of life he dared to hope they might have together, if she wanted him. Surely Oth Argo was the far better choice for her... he at least had a house and money and could engage her in intelligent conversation.

He waited, embarrassed, for Ilse to announce she had more important things to do. But she didn’t stand up and leave; instead she pulled out another thin stick of wood, blew out the flames on the charred end, and inscribed her own black letter A on the hearthstones. “Like this?” she asked. She wrote with her left hand, like him.

“Yes!” Falke replied, feeling curiously elated. He couldn’t hide his smile as he watched her, and when she turned to him and smiled back, the world seemed to still. There was a long pause before he could bring himself to break the gaze. “That’s the capital letter A, actually... there is also a small one, which looks like this.” He drew an ‘a’ beside the capital. She drew her own. Neither of their letters looked as polished as his mentor Catiana’s, but they were just beginning.

“This is the letter ‘E,’” Falke continued. “It’s the first sound in ‘egg’ and the middle sound in ‘met’– it also is the last sound in your name, Ilse, and mine. But it’s kind of subdued when it is at the end of words...”

“How does my name look?” Ilse asked. Falke obliged by writing out her name as best he could. “I-L-S-E,” he named each letter as he drew it. She wrote her own name on the hearthstones next to his version.

“Each letter makes a specific sort of sound, or maybe two sounds that are related. Some letters combine to make new sounds, too,” Falke continued to explain. He tried to remember how Catiana had taught him the alphabet. “The letters A, E, I, O, and U are like the glue that holds words together. You’ll almost always find at least one of these letters between any others, when you read or write. Oh, sometimes another letter, Y, works that way too...”

Ilse listened as Falke continued to teach her about the vowel sounds. He was pleased that she was so interested and that she caught on so quickly.

“How do you spell your name?” Ilse asked after listening and drawing patiently for some minutes.

“Oh, like this...” Falke drew his name on the hearthstones. She redrew hers next to it, since the earlier I-L-S-Es had been erased to make way for the letters O and U.

Ilse contemplated the names for a moment. Falke wondered what she was thinking. At last she spoke. “They look nice together... they share some letters but they’re also different.”

Falke regarded her curiously. “Yes, they do look kind of nice, don’t they?” He picked up his stick and wrote another word between their names. A-N-D.

“What does that say?” Ilse asked, looking up at Falke.

“It reads... Falke and Ilse,” he replied, feeling his cheeks betray him once more. Ilse turned towards Falke, searching his gaze. He hoped she would see what she wanted to see. Her whole face brightened up with a beautiful smile as he took her hand gently in his. He stroked her palm gently with his thumb as he tried to collect his thoughts.

“Ilse, I haven’t spoken to Lukas about this yet... but... it’s really more between you and me, anyway. I find that I’ve grown... really quite fond of you. So... if you are all right with it, I hope you’ll let me court you.”

Ilse ducked her head and looked away, blushing. Falke felt a momentary panic grip him. Was she going to reject him? His heart faltered. Then Ilse turned back to him and nodded, smiling shyly. His heart burst with joy. Still holding her hand, he reached out with his free arm towards her dark gleaming hair, wanting very much to touch it and to share his happiness with her.

“What are you two doing?” Lukas called from the doorway. Falke jerked his offending arm back immediately, but didn’t let go of Ilse’s small hand. A quick flash of annoyance was replaced by embarrassment. He looked towards Lukas, face burning, and stood up. Because he was still holding on to Ilse, she had to stand as well. He caught a glimpse of her face as he turned towards his old friend. Hers looked as crimson as he felt his must be, but she also seemed to be trying to hide a guilty smile.

Lukas looked uncharacteristically stern as he walked towards the mortified pair and Falke stumbled for words, still holding Ilse’s small hand in his. He glanced towards her for support. She was biting her lower lip uncertainly now but she flicked her glance upwards at him and then down at their linked hands. She drew herself up to her full height, which, admittedly, wasn’t very tall, then faced her older brother. “Falke was just saying that with your permission, he’d like to court me. It is all right, isn’t it?”

Lukas dropped his stern mask and broke into a grin as he enfolded their joined hands in his. For a confused moment, Falke wondered if he should perhaps not be holding Ilse’s hand. “Mother was saying that you can always tell when children are up to no good because they suddenly fall very quiet.” He turned towards Falke. “Of course you can court Ilse, you dimwit.” He shook his head slightly in disbelief; after all, he was the one who had originally asked Falke if he might be interested in her. “And, you can at least hold hands,” he added magnanimously, squeezing theirs gently before letting them go. He smirked. Relieved, Falke smiled fondly down at Ilse.

“So, what’s all that?” Lukas asked, peering down at the charcoal letters on the hearthstones from his towering height. He had always been taller than Falke.

“Falke was starting to teach me how to read,” Ilse said with pride. She let go of Falke so she could turn around and point out the various letters on the hearthstones. “That’s my name, and this is his. What would Lukas’ name look like?” Ilse asked, twisting her body to look back at Falke.

“Oh, ah.. It would be L-U-C-A-S... or maybe L-U-K-A-S.” Falke watched as Ilse picked up her stick and wrote out the second spelling. She knew what all those letters looked like from their earlier discussion, but still, to have caught on so quickly... Falke was impressed.

Lukas watched his little sister with a similar expression of astonishment. Then he looked over his shoulder at Falke. “Do you... do you think you could teach me as well?” he asked seriously.

“Well... of course!” Falke replied., feeling a sudden surge of fierce pride for his friends. Of course he’d teach them anything they asked for, these people who were so very much a part of his world. He’d do most anything for the Gambrells.

Lukas smiled shyly, an expression highly reminiscent of his little sister. Falke was startled; usually Lukas appeared more... mischievous than shy. Standing next to one another, Falke was struck by how much brother and sister looked alike. A sudden thought burst in on him: if he were lucky enough to be the man to marry Ilse someday, he and Lukas would be brothers. Being brothers was something they had often dreamed of when they were young, as one might expect brotherless boys to do.

Falke smiled. There was no man in the world he’d rather have for a brother than Lukas, no woman he’d rather marry than Ilse, and no family he would feel more honoured to be part of than the Gambrells. They were such good people... almost everyone in Pearl City knew them to be generous in spite of their own extreme poverty.

As if to support his line of thought, Annelinde appeared in the doorway. “Oh Falke, you’re still here. I was just going to say I made some tea, and I wondered if any of you would care to have some.”

Tea sounded wonderful to Falke but a quick glance out the window showed him it was dark. “What time is it?”

“Oh, going on for ten,” replied Mrs. Gambrell.

Falke was crestfallen. “I’d love to stay, I really would. But I should probably get back to the barracks and get ready for work.” Ilse also looked disappointed. “I’ll come back the next opportunity I have - there’s reading lessons to undertake!” Falke tried to sound cheerful, gracing Ilse with a smile, but he really wished he could just stay.

“I’ll see you out,” said Ilse, and she followed him to the door. He was a bit embarrassed when she brought him his coat, but luckily she only handed it to him. Catiana’s lessons in etiquette had taught him that gentlemen should hold coats open for ladies to get into, so it would have been strange if Ilse had done it for him!

He buttoned the coat up in silence while Ilse stood watching him. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though, fraught with tender smiles as it was. Just before leaving, Falke reached out a hand and laid it gently on her cheek. “See you soon?” he asked hopefully.

Her affirmative answer sent him walking on clouds all the way back to the barracks.