"Quit eavesdropping!" (Patreon)

I scolded Burnside.  "This is a private conversation!"

"Don't see why it should be," Burnside sniffed disdainfully.  "So what if she's a changeling?  I was a changeling.  It don't mean nothin.  Whether she is one or not, we'll all find out eventually."

"Private!" I insisted.  "This is a special, sacred mentor-to-pupil moment."

"Fine," she shrugged.  "I'll go patrol the woods out of earshot!  That'll give y'all loads o' privacy."

"No," I countermanded.  "You must stay close, because I need to talk to you as soon as I finish speaking to Rebecca."

"Aw come on now!" Burnside snapped.  "Whadda you expect me to do?  Cover my ears an sing a song?"

"Actually, that's a good idea," I nodded.

Burnside sighed heavily, turned around, covered her ears, and began loudly humming.

"Watt about-" Angela started to say.

"You too!" I ordered.

"All right," I said, turning back to Rebecca.  Where were we?"

"Uhhhhh," Rebecca floundered in temporary bewilderment.  "So the stories are true?  Elves really do steal mortal children and leave their horrible elf babies in their place?"

"Elf babies aren't horrible," I protested.  "Maybe Burnside was, but in general I don't believe that's the case.  Were you a horrible baby?"

"No," Rebecca declared after a moment's thought.  "My parents were always quite fond of me.  So how can you be sure if somebody's a changeling?  Are there tests to find out?"

"I'm not sure.  As I said, it's very unlikely that you are a changeling.  No offense, but no elf in their right mind would leave a child in that rabbit village.  And with Faerie falling apart, who would have the space or resources to care for a swapling?  I'm sad to say the situation back home is too desperate."

"What kind of sense does that make?" Rebecca blurted.  "If you have time to take care of a swapling, you have time to raise your own child.  The whole thing only makes sense if, as the stories say, you eat the mortal babies."

"That's Unseelie!" I exclaimed.  "How could you believe such horrible tales?  No, most of us do NOT eat lowfolk babies.  But you're right, the changeling tradition is practiced mostly because elves don't want the responsibility of child-rearing."

"So what happens to the swaplings?" Rebecca asked.

"I never managed to find out for sure," I admitted.  "When I was little, they were draining them of their lowfolk essence ... but that was a new thing at the time, and I don't know exactly what it did to the lowfolk children.  I'm pretty sure it led to our downfall though."

Rebecca stared at me strangely for several seconds, then continued:  "Actually, if the situation in Faerie really is that terrible, wouldn't that motivate elf parents to have their kids raised in the, uh, lowfolk realm?  If they are incapable of caring for the swapling, would they even bother taking one?  If they were desperate to make sure their child is safe, couldn't they just leave the elf baby in an orphanage or on someone's front doorstep?"

"I suppose," I admitted with a shrug.  "I remember you telling me that your parents found you in a cabbage patch."

"That's just a euphemism for being visited by the stork," Rebecca explained.

It was my turn to stare at her in momentary bafflement.

"Still," I resumed after a pause, "it could be true.  You have a point.  As for tests to find out, the fact that you used Elfmind is a strong indicator.  Another big one is, elves age much slower than lowfolk."

"If you want to see how long it takes me to become an old lady, we'll both be waiting for a long time.  Are there any others?"

"Elves technically don't need to sleep," I said thoughtfully.  "You could try staying up for several days and see if you get tired or go insane."

"That sounds risky."

"Nah, if you're lowfolk you will fall asleep before any serious damage is done.  But let me think ... oh!  The Gate inside the dolmen will only admit elves.  If you're able to pass through it into Faerie, that would be solid proof."

"Okay, let's try it," Rebecca declared as she started to get up.

"Not so fast.  There's a time slip between the worlds, so if you went in you could be gone for days or even years on this side, even if you only stayed there for a few minutes.  You would have to go alone because I already know I can bring things through from this world.  If I accompany you, then you might be considered my guest, the Gate might let you pass no matter what, and the test would be inconclusive."

My train of thought was interrupted by a squadron of Ixies buzzing up to report.

"Sire," Typantronn barked, with a crisp salute.  "The witches all safely returned home, and Oonagh the baker was overjoyed at the new addition to her family.  Didelphis, not so much."

"That is that," Typantronn chuckled as she turned toward her troops.  "The mission is over and thou hast all been debriefed sooo...  Pay up, sisters!"

"Thou art killing me over here!" one Ixie groaned as they all began reaching under their carapaces and handing over aphids.

"Your bug servants seem to have a gambling problem, My Lord," Rebecca observed.

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