A demon and his dwarf

(Second draft of first scene in a novella in my fantasy setting)

"COME HERE!" father bellowed. "Come down here, you worthless piece of quivering

..."

The rest of the sentence drowned in Mother's singsong sweet, "darling, we received a letter today. You must hear it!"

A'Grih pulled a green velvet tailcoat over the shirt of elven silk, white as the Blessed Father of Snow. It snagged for a moment on his horns - black with coppery tips - and he carefully pulled the coat loose. Before the next bellow rose up to his room, he was out of the room and hurried downstairs, small cloven hooves clip clopping on the solid oaken steps, thin tail tucked carefully under his kilt.

Father was standing at the bottom of the stairs, scroll in hand. A'Grih felt a faint embarrassment - his father had put on a coat, but not bothered with much else. The large, curved ram horns adorning his head were polished to perfection - but he had forgotten to brush his fur. Maybe he hadn't bothered with that either.

Mother was pale as the Snow, clad in a loose, white dress as usual, but her cheeks were flushed with excitement. "It is an invitation," she gushed. "The Lady Ekira has invited us for dinner in three days."

No doubt of it; the scroll bore the grand seal of the governess of their province, Father's old commander, and leader in the wars against the elves. A'Grih felt his hands become clammy. "Me, too, ma'am?" He asked carefully.

"Oh cut the bowing and scraping already," growled Father. "What are you? A slave? A riderbeast? Or..."

"Enough, dear." Mother cut him short. A'Grih knew the end of the sentence anyway "or an elf?"

"Yes, darling, you too. Aren't you proud?"

Father had always spoken highly of the Lady Ekira. A'Grih's tail curled in between his legs. He was glad of the kilt.

Father patted Mother on the shoulder. "The Lady will be appointing new positions. We should bring her a gift. Maybe she will even be moved to look kindly upon this runt you produced.

"He's yours, too," Mother replied. It was an old and not very serious argument of theirs. A'Grih hated it every time.

Father snorted and ignored it. He said, "maybe she can use him as cup bearer or something." He barked out a laugh.

Mother giggled. "I'm sure he would be an adorable page," she said.

A'Grih forced out a smile.

Mother continued, stroking her son's horns, copper-yellow like the Blessed Sun-queen, "I am sure she will approve of him. He is Sun-touched after all!"

A'Grih flinched instinctively.

"Ouch!" She sucked on her finger. "You mustn't do that, Grih-ling."

Father growled, "he nicks me, he gets a wallop. You indulge him too much."

A'Grih felt his tail curl tightly against his inner thigh, under the haunch-length kilt. Father would not approve of him being scared.

"I know, darling, but try not to damage him before he is presented to the Lady Ekira. It would reflect badly on all of us."

Father snorted again. "Maybe the runt can go find the gift, then - that should reflect better. The old dwarf caves aren't entirely empty and looted. Maybe there's some nice bauble we can pretty him up with."

A'Grih stopped himself from bowing. "As you command, s... father." He turned and clip clopped back up the stairs to fetch his sword.

Father shouted after him, "and take off that skirt! What are you? A eunuch? Or..."

He shut the door on the rest of the sentence, his mind knew it perfectly anyway, or an elf and then Mother would giggle. Sweetly and unkindly.