Early Summer, Year of the Great Kingdom 592
Though she clearly carried herself with a strong sense of rank and class, the Sheikah tutor that Gormund had commissioned was polite and respectful of their home – even if she was rather 'stiff'. After a brief lesson on the front lawn to teach Telma the proper ways to cross her legs and 'curtsy' for the Hylian aristocrats, the three went inside the small hut. The tutor declined any breakfast that Telma offered, but did ask for "A little wine; and not that potato nonsense that you make Gormund!" she teased with a small grin.
The farmer directed his daughter to a corked bottle, which was hidden in the back of a cupboard behind a bowl of apples. With trembling hands, she poured two small cups of the yellow wine and offered them to the adults. The Dame discreetly sniffed the contents, before taking a small sip. Telma and her father watched anxiously as she seemed to savor its taste for a moment and lightly smiled at the farmer. "Thank you Gormund. It is quite good." She said softly.
After setting the bottle in the center of the table and taking her seat across from her new instructor, Telma waited anxiously for her to begin. For several long minutes, the Sheikah just seemed to stare at her and study her features. Normally, when the other country women did this, Gormund would intervene and break the tension, but he could not do so with a woman of her station. When her apprehension became unbearable, Telma looked away and subtly pulled her hair behind her ear – revealing their Hylian tips. She had hoped, that this would be enough to satisfy the dame's curiosity and keep her father safe.
"Your letter said that she has already received some instruction?" the tutor asked, still keeping her eyes on the young woman. "Y-yes, my dame. Several lessons i-in… herbology, uh… cooking, um… h-history-" Gormund stammered, until she raised a finger to stop him. "She has never had instruction in conduct at court?" she asked, cutting him off. Telma squirmed nervously inside, and shifted on her chair slightly. She did not like being studied so closely by this strange, important woman, nor of being talked about as if she were not in the room. "No… my dame." Her father answered, "Not until now."
Several more tense minutes passed as the elder sipped at her wine and continued staring at Telma with her piercing eyes. "Let us get to it then." She declared suddenly, "Why have you not informed Lord Aryn about her?" A terrible stab of fear struck Telma's heart as she looked from the Dame to her father and back again. "I-I-I… I am sure I do not k-know what you mean… my dame." He tried, desperately struggling to hide his own fear. "Come off it Gormund," she growled, finally turning to look at him, "Just tie a handkerchief over those ears and everyone would see the Gerudo for what she is!"
Telma's father tried, valiantly, to deny that she was anything other than a pure Hylian woman. "She just has sun-darkened skin! F-from… helping me in my field!" he cried, reaching his hand over and taking Telma's. She squeezed his fingers tightly, to tell him that she was frightened, and he squeezed back – hopefully trying to comfort her. The Sheikah lifted her wine cup again and leaned back in her chair, "Thank the Goddess then, she has spared you the same burn… from the same sun… in the same field." She growled.
When he could not offer any other excuses, the elder set her cup back down on the table and returned to Telma. "Who is your mother?" she asked flatly. The young woman, gripped with panic, turned from the Dame to her father, silently pleading for help, but he only frowned pursed his lips together -had nothing to give her. "Answer me girl, and tell me the truth!" she commanded, with a note of irritation rising in her voice.
"I-I… I don't know… her name." she answered, honestly. The Sheikah's eyebrow raised skeptically and she folded her hands on the table – expecting more. "I only ever c-called her… 'Mama Vai'." Telma finished, as painful tears started to form in the corners of her eyes. "She was a Gerudo woman?" the tutor demanded. With a pitiful sob, the teenager looked down at her lap and nodded "yes." That was it – her horrible shame was now revealed and her poor father would be punished for her existence. Gormund had always tried to shelter her from the anti-Gerudo hatred that the other farmers bore, but Telma had learned from their glaring eyes and suspicious whispers that she represented something that was meant to be hated and feared.
After a moment's silence, she whimpered, "P-please… my dame… don't hurt papa. He is a good man. He took me when Mama Vai did not want me anymore." Here, the Sheikah's expression changed. Her eyes widened slightly and her brows lifted to a look of mild surprise, "She 'did not want you' – that is what you said?" she asked. Telma nodded and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "How old was she, when the Gerudo brought her to you?" the elder asked the farmer, still eying the young woman. "We… reckon she was five… or close to that, my dame." Gormund croaked – his own voice choked with fear and embarrassment. "Now that… that is unique." She finished, leaning forward again to study Telma's ears.
Over the next few hours, Dame Neva -as Telma learned her name to be- explained that it was the nature of Hylian and Gerudo blood to never mix. It was true that Gerudo women required their children to be sired by Hylian men – which drew a dark scowl from the elder at Gormund, who blushed and looked away – but the children born of such unions were always either pure Hylian boys & girls or pure Gerudo 'vai'. "It is by the will of the Goddess, when and where our blood is given." She explained.
"Why are there no Gerudo boys then?" Telma asked, before her father could stop her. The Sheikah answered that any male, born from a Gerudo woman, who was not himself absolutely pure Gerudo, was swiftly 'disposed of' by the midwife 'before even tasting his mother's milk'. "It is their law." She finished quietly, "No males. Unless he be a strong, pure Gerudo – and that is fabled to only happen once in a century… maybe longer. The Hylian girls are either sold into slavery, or smuggled out of the desert on trading caravans to the eastern kingdoms."
Telma's throat clenched hard on the sickening revelation that she was hearing. How could they slaughter… babies? How could they sell their daughters to be slaves?! It was horrible, despicable, and barbaric. But above all of this, one critical question still remained in her mind. "Then… what am I?" she timidly asked. Gormund's hand shook at the question and he slowly lowered his forehead down to the table, still grasping her fingers.
"There are stories -more legends than anything- of children that are 'mixed blood.' A genuine half-Gerudo, half-Hylian." She answered, "There are plenty of uncouth, foul names for them. But the only way that I know of to describe one politely is: 'Middle Children'. There has never been a record of one though – so far as I am aware – anywhere in Hyrule. In this way, you truly are wondrously unique child." Her words were kind, but her tone still carried the heavy scent of suspicion and disgust that so many others had treated her with.
"What is it you want to do with her Gormund?" she asked after a brief pause.