Hey look, it only took a year. But I'll have you know, I left my old copy of Black Beauty at home when i left for college, and actually bought a new one just for the sake of continuing this story. Unfortunately, this is mostly a filler chapter.

The lord of Birtwick Park was never cruel to us, bless his soul, and nor was the lady, but the lady was a fairly different breed of Seelie, as far as they go. She was kind, fair, and very soft-spoken, and it does me great displeasure to think ill of her, but she was very set in her ways when it came to social class. To her, servants were things to be owned and controlled, and while she never hurt us or was unkind to us, she treated us as one would treat a beloved dog; something to be appreciated and cared for, and maybe even a part of the family, but in the end, still just a dog.

My first revelation to this fact came shortly after I had met her. I was cleaning the banisters in the main hall when I heard her voice drifting from one of the rooms upstairs. I had felt guilty about overhearing what was obviously a private conversation, and had readied myself to leave, but then I heard mention of my own name. Perhaps it was wrong of me, but I couldn't resist staying to listen to the rest of their talk.

"-but Sarah is such a dreadfully dull name for someone so fine," the lady was saying, and I felt a brief rush of pride, along with a small burst of indignation; here I was, a human being with feelings and emotions, and she was trying to name me? Like I was no better than a common horse? I bit my tongue. It was not my place to feel outrage or anger.

The lady's voice quavered with sorrow. "And that other human who came would not allow me to change her name to Ginger, not even when it suited her so well!"

An unladylike snort burst out of me at that comment. I liked the mistress, but perhaps it had been a bit foolish to attempt to change something about who Karen was. Karen was Karen; I could not see her as a Ginger, but I could see her fury at any such suggestion.

Then the lord spoke quietly, so I had to (with a guilty twinge) listen all the harder. "My dear, surely you understand that humans are not tame pets to be named."

"But she hasn't a name that suits her! We must ask her if she would mind a change!"

And so it came as no surprise when the following morning, I ran into her in one of the halls, carrying a basket of fresh-laundered clothes to be hung out to dry. I curtsied respectfully but she waved me off and took my arm in hers, escorting me gracefully outside. I remained quiet as she rambled on pleasantly about the morning, and how fine the weather was, until she finally turned to face me.

"You know," she said softly, as if I alone were in her confidentiality, "Sarah is such a very plain name, wouldn't you agree?"

I did not honestly agree, but the poor woman obviously did not know that her words fell on my skin like hail, so I merely smiled softly and nodded, even though I did like my plain name very much.

The lady smiled warmly. "Then what shall you be called? Perhaps Merle?"

"That is a nice name, my lady," I responded automatically, even though I had known a very foul-tempered Merle growing up in my old home. The idea of sharing her name unsettled me slightly, so it was a great relief when the mistress changed her mind, her pointer finer on her chin thoughtfully.

"No, no, you are much prettier than Merle ever was. Merle was my sister," she added as an afterthought. "She has since passed, rest her soul, but she is never forgotten. She was a very handsome woman, you know, but not even she can surpass your beauty."

While I sat there, feeling both flustered and flattered, a curious expression came over her face. "Also, Merle is quite a human name, still rather plain, and you, why, if you're hair weren't so dark you could almost pass for a faerie. What of Beaunoire?"

I perked up at the foreign name that rolled off her tongue, sounding both strange and familiar at the same time. While Sarah would be my name always and forever, Beaunoire would make a very suitable pet name if I absolutely had to have one.

"Yes, Beaunoire would fit perfectly." She ran a dainty hand through my dark tresses. "It means black beauty, you know…"

Folding the dry clothes neatly into the basket, I managed to tune out the rest of her sweet ramblings, giving a quiet hum or nod of ascension whenever it was required of me, and my lady, bless her heart, paid little heed to my absent mind.

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While Birtwick Park was certainly smaller than the house of the Elf King, it was by no means less busy. There was always some lesser lords or nobles popping in to stay the night with their families, on their way to some meeting or other with some pompous dignitary. And even on the days where one of the lesser-knowns would make their appearance, the park was still alive with frivolous preparations. It was on such days that I would have to work in very close quarters with Karen, and found, much to my own personal relief, that she wasn't nearly as nasty as I would have formerly believed.

I had been wondering how we would get along, but when I entered the kitchens on that first busy morning, she did nothing but give a little haughty sniff before going back to work. She did her work honestly and efficiently, and pulled more than her fair share, and I could never wish to have a better companion in the kitchen. Even at the peak of the afternoon, when the sun was at its highest and the ovens filled the small space with blazing heat and my hair stuck to the back of my neck with sweat, she worked as diligently as though it were the coolest of evenings. Forced as we were to share living quarters and work space, it wouldn't do to remain hostile, and so after the first few evenings of dry quips and snappy retorts, we grew used to each other, and her vicious exterior began to fade away. Within the first few weeks, we had grown to be sociable, perhaps even friends.

Merry had little to do with the kitchen, and, what with him being a man, he certainly didn't sleep with us. He kept mostly to his own room, which he shared with James. Karen and I rarely saw them during the day, save for the little dinners we would all sit down to after the last chore had been done and we were free to spend the evening as we wished. They were well-behaved and proper gentlemen, the two of them, and never did anything to make us feel uncomfortable or unwanted in their conversation.

While working, we would exchange stories and experiences. Karen particularly seemed to enjoy hearing about my upbringing, and lamented often about never having such a fine youth. It took me several weeks to pluck up the courage to ask her why, and she gave me such a hard look when I asked, I almost immediately apologized. But it had been a slow day with no nobles to pay heed to, and while we were washing the windows in an unnatural silence, she had begun to speak haltingly.

"You are so very sheltered," she began, wringing her cloth with unnecessary force. "Your brother may have died at the hands of Cavornon-"

"'twas an accident," I cut across quietly, diplomatically. "The Lord couldn't have possibly-"

"Do you ever listen to yourself?" Karen interrupted, quite angrily, giving her head a toss for good measure. "He may be a brute, but he isn't a fool. He knew better than to take your brother at his age, but he did not care." She gave me a chilly glance. "You know this. And yet you defend him as if the very stars in the sky shine only for him."

"Mother told me that thinking ill of others does naught but embitter your heart and spirit."

Karen let out an unflattering bark of laughter, but there was little humor in it.

"Your mother was very wise." She attacked the glass with her cloth as though it had done her personal injury. "From the moment I could live without the aid of a mother, I was taken away and put with another lot of children. They cared none for me, and I cared none for them in turn. We never received a kind word from our masters in our lives."

She paused to dip her cloth into the water, and did not continue until she had wrung it out. The splashing the excess water made as it splashed back into the bucket seemed disturbingly loud compared to her quiet tone. "I do not mean to say that we were mistreated or abused. But we never received praise for our work, never a kind word or a pat on the head."

I began to think, rather sadly, of the praise heaped on me whenever I did a good day's work as a child, even for the most minimal of tasks.

"Whenever we went to the market, a gang of Seelie boys would usually be there to throw stones at us and taunt us with malicious things I shan't repeat. They rarely landed it hit, but it turned us against any sort of magic folk at an early age. As we were left mostly to our own devices, we turned wild. When it came time for us to be sold off, we found ourselves at the hands of masters who were expecting good little girls and boys, not a wild lot of ruffians."

"I cannot blame them for their frustration. But they shouldn't have blamed me for my ignorance. I had no mother to whisper wise things in my ear. I had no one to sort out wrong from right, proper from offensive. They expected me to understand immediately what I was expected to do, and how I was supposed to act in their esteemed presence. Esteemed!" She growled and stomped her foot, as though the very thought of it infuriated her. "Nothing but a sniveling lot of nobles, if you ask me! If they had simply taken the time to guide me through my tasks, things may have been different. I may have become as well mannered as you. But what they did, they hoisted things upon me I didn't understand. Tasks I could not complete properly, for I had never done them before. And instead of a polite reprimand and advice on how to do the job right, I received a box on the ears and a harsh word. Esteemed!" She said again.

"I suppose I did not make it easy for them, for I snapped back often and was very ill-tempered. I changed hands frequently. While some of the nobles I served under were kinder than others, and were kind enough to advise me on propriety and tasks I did not know how to do, I was so ill-suited to being amongst the Seelie, it wasn't long until I was gone again, another land, another master. I eventually came to serve a rather unpleasant lord who had been keen after me because he had so loved my hair."

Her hand drifted up to sift through the short locks, and I began to feel very sorry for her, for I had the most unpleasant feeling that I knew how this story would end.

"He was demanding, and was not afraid to be abusive, but never overly so, because, you see, even the most undesirable of lords knows that an indisposed servant is a waste. But he was hard enough to keep me nervous around him. My work was hard, but I was acclimated to hard work by then, and made the most of it. But I had grown older, and was not too unpleasant to look at, if you'll permit that piece of vanity. In fact, I was rather beautiful. It was something this lord hadn't failed to notice, and he tried to take liberties that he had no right to take." Her voice quavered. "He corned me in the kitchen. I refused his advances. He attempted it again. And again I refused. I pushed him away from me with all of my strength."

I felt my spine stiffen; never did a servant have leave to touch a lord, let alone in a defiant way, but I found I couldn't blame Karen for doing so.

"He didn't like that, not one bit. He took the cleaver from the shelves and cut through my hair, straight to the scalp." Her fingers carded through her hair once more. "I often wonder if that was what he was really aiming to do, or if it was simply a narrow miss."

"I can't remember getting around him or running out of the house. All I know is that I was running. I couldn't stay for another moment. And then John Manly found me wandering in the market, and brought me here. I've only been here for a year, but I've known more kindness in this house than any other place. I've been trying to be all the nicer because of it."

And I knew her words were true, for in the coming weeks, I saw her laughing with James and Merry, exchange pleasantries with Sir Didymus, and even indulge the children in a game of hide and seek.

Why I wrote this story with such flowery script, I don't know, but it's pissing me off. It seems my 17-year-old self has more of a knack for it than I do currently. So if I'm teetering between old-fashioned writing and modern language, I'm terribly sorry, but I'm trying. Enjoy!