The Crybaby and the Elf Part 2

Now we continue the tale! Just as clarification, this is not my usual writing style, but I like it for these comedic stories.

The Crybaby and the Elf

(And also a really mean dragon)

Part Two

By

Hannah Williams

The spoiled princess sat in her tower window watching the elf hurry away. Snuffling, she rested her head on her arms and contemplated the knowledge that he would soon be out of sight forever.

            She bolted upright. NO! That mustn’t happen! She didn’t want to see another person if she couldn’t see that elf again. Running down the stairs, she flew from the palace and out the gate, making for the forest where the elf was just disappearing.

            She didn’t take a cloak, she didn’t take food, she didn’t take anything.

            In a few moments, she was tumbling through the forest. The elf was some ways ahead of her, and luckily, he’d slowed to a walk in the woods. However as soon as she had him in view, he pivoted and glared at her.

            Wheezing, she managed to stumble across the distance between them, snagging her hair and dress as she went. At last, she reached him and gave a dizzy smile.

            He frowned. “Why did…” His lips tightened and he seemed to be struggling with the right thing to say. Closing his eyes, he went still for a moment. Then with a deep breath, he looked straight at her and said, “Go away.”

            Dramatically crossing her hands over heart, Wailbaby declared, “Never. NEV-AH! Never again for as long as I live! I’m in love!

            He rolled his eyes and began to walk away.

            “Hey! Wait! Where are you going? Wait for me!” Hitching up her cumbersome skirts, she wobbled after him, but in less than a few seconds, the elf had vanished into the trees. The skirt dropped from Wailbaby’s numb fingers. “Get back here!”

            In vain.

            Unbelievable.

            She would not stand for that! Furious, she threw herself upon the ground—on a couple of rocks and sticks. Ouch! That hurt. Well, maybe she wouldn’t do that stunt quite as much.

            So she began to weep stormy tears. Indeed, she cried for ten minutes. She screamed. She kicked. She hit her foot against a tree trunk. Ow! She stopped kicking.

            Then she carefully opened one eye, expecting to see him on his knees, promising her anything if only she’d stop crying. Perhaps he’d even have the engagement ring out.

            Nothing.

            Bewildered, she sat up and looked around to discover that she was utterly alone.

            Just as she considered crying again, this time for real, she realized that the elf was standing upon a log just a few yards away, arms folded and face expressionless.

            “Finished yet?” he asked, voice cold.

            She sniffed and nodded. He stepped lightly from the log and reached out his hand. Her crush returned and she giggled as she placed her hand in his. He pulled her up, then jerked his hand back like she was diseased Glaring still, he pointed back home. “Go back,” he said.

            “Alone?”

            “I’ll take—” Again, his voice broke off and his face twisted as if he were pain.

            Wailbaby’s eyes widened. “Hey,” she said softly. “Are you all right?”

            Bending down, he grabbed a stick and began to write in the dirt. She leaned down and read aloud. “I can only speak two words per sentence…” She gasped. “Hey! That’s weird! Why?”

            He continued writing.

            “…Nobody knows. Possibly a birth defect or a curse that nobody knew about,” she continued. “That’s awful! My first dream man only speaks Gibberish and now the best one can only speak two words per sentence? Woe is me!”

            The elf shook his head, threw down the stick, and turned to walk away. She scrambled after him,  but in her hair caught on a branch, and with a shriek she was jerked back. “Elf? Help!”

            He returned and unhooked her hair.

            “Say,” she said, brightening. “I don’t even know your name. I’m Wailbaby.”

            “I’m Sharenth,” he said, then whipped out his knife.

            Shocked, she leapt back.

            But he flipped it around and handed it to her hilt first. “Cut hair.”

            Her hand flew to her hair. “My hair? My lovely curtain of spun gold? No! It’s the crown of my beauty!”

            “Suit yourself.” He shrugged. “Won’t return? Keep up. Wood’s dangerous.”

            “These are stupid trees anyway.”

            “Pseudotsuga menziesii.”

            Her mouth dropped open. “Did you just swear at me or something?”

            “Tree name. Douglous-fir.”

            “Oh.”

            Suddenly, he halted so fast she almost fan into him. “Monotropa Uniflora!” he exclaimed and ran across a bed of leaves as noiselessly as silk on marble.

            Confused, she went to see what his fuss was about and saw some transparent white, bell-headed, stalks rising from the ground.

            “Translation, please?” she said with a sigh.

            “Indian pipe.”

            “Huh?”

            He didn’t acknowledge her befuddlement, but pointed instead to something that looked like colored pine-cones growing from the ground. “Boschniaka Hookeri,” he said lovingly. “Ground cones.”

            Arms akimbo, she stared at him. “Why in the world do you know that? Oh, that’s right. You’re an elf.”

            Straightening, he looked her in the eye. “A botanist,” he said sternly.

            She laughed. “That’s hilarious! You mean that an actual specific occupation in Elvendom? Oh, how rich.”

            He, for one, did appear amused.

            When he began walking again, it was at a rapid pace and she had to trot to keep up. “So whatcha doing?” she asked.

            “Delivering messages.”

            “Oh yeah, like the one for Pop. What’s in them, anyway?” She reached for the one in his hand, and he ducked away. 

 

            “Personalized messages.”

            “Who cares,” she grumbled, but she didn’t try to grab again.

            “So who are we delivering to next?”

            “Zelray Kingdom.”

            She groaned. Not Zelray. Zelray ruled by King Rifolard the 10^th.

            Colletiatessa’s father.

An hour later, they stood in the court of Zelray. The King, the Queen, their daughter, and their son-in-law had not worried about personal primping, but instead hurried out to see what the matter was. When they saw the elf, they smiled. It was wonderful to see elves. Then they saw Princess Wailbaby.

            They stopped smiling.

            “What’s she doing here?” Colletiatessa growled, pointing a long finger at the guilty party. “How dare the princess of the kingdom that abducted my mother appear here?” At her cry, the soldiers milled about in their ranks, heavy scowls on their faces.

            Wailbaby tried to hide behind Sharenth. The elf stepped aside, and placed a hand on her shoulder, looked the king right in the eye, and said, “Under authority.”

            With a nod, the king reached for the scroll. Even with his glasses, he couldn’t read it, so he handed it to Bill. Bill looked over it and gave a long a whistle. “Boy, you elves sure write purty. Right. The message. Here it is:

            “Greetings, Rifolard the 10^th, King of Zelray, from Thancalon the Silver, Lord of Eretheal Wood and those therein. It has come to my attentions that far to the south in Irony Mountains, the Dragon Fellfang has awoken from his 100 years of spelled sleep. His rage will be great and his retribution swift. We must prepare for his onslaught. Beware dragons. Do not underestimate them.”

            Bill went quiet. There was a note at the end that read, “Please treat my messenger well. He can only speak two words per sentence, but I thought he needed to go on an adventure.” Of course, Bill did not read this out loud, so he wouldn’t embarrass the elf.

            He whistled again. “How about that? A dragon.”

            Colletiatessa leapt into the air, pumping her fist. “YE-ES! I’ve always dreamed of fighting a dragon. I was almost there in the 3^rd level of DragonDeath, but a real one will be so much cooler!”

            “Pardon me, mademoiselle, but thou is unwise to wish for a dragon when one you have not met me.”

            She sighed. “I know, Scholar Darlanvalancousious.”

            Wailbaby peeked around Sharenth to see who she was speaking to, and to her complete shock, she saw, perched on a chair before an open book, a phoenix, pen in wing and glasses on beak!

            The phoenix was speaking again. “Noble elf, will you deliver this message to my brother. As you know, dragons hate phoenixes because they are another creature of fire. His name is Skervalcousious and he lives in the Sharded Crags. It is a rather difficult climb. Will you do it?”

            “I will,” Sharnth said, but he glanced uncertainly at Wailbaby.

            Guessing his thoughts, Colletiatessa snapped, “She can’t stay here!”

            “Now dear,” Bill began.

            “Don’t dear me! I won’t have that little Kleenex hoarder bringing down our castle!”

            When the king and queen nodded their agreement, Sharnth bowed and led the way out the exit. Wailbaby scrambled after him, glad to leave the hostile-heavy court.

            The chilly air nipped at their noses as they crossed over the moat. Already, Wailbaby’s breath came in short pants as she struggled to keep up with the elf. “So,” she said. “A dragon? How can we handle a dragon?”

            “No idea.”

            She glanced at the western mountains where the sky was already turning a dusty pink. “Awful stingy of them to not let us stay for the night,” she grumbled.

            “Your fault.”

            “My fault? What makes you say that?”

            “You’re selfish. You’re greedy. I guessed.”

            Folding her arms, she glowered. “All I wanted was to be rich.”

            “What for?”

            How strange. She didn’t have an answer.

 They continued traveling towards the forest, when she said, "So I've been thinking about your unusual handicap. I guess it's not that bad after all. I mean, you can say things like, "yes, darling", "yes, sweetness", "yes, sugar"..."

Night had fallen as they entered into the forest, and the princess began to shiver in the biting chill. “Where…where will we sleep?”

            In answer, Sharenth paused underneath a large fir and leaping lightly up, caught the lowest branch, and swung himself up.

            Her jaw dropped. “No way! I ain’t sleeping in a tree!” She wondered if it would be a good time to try bawling again.

            Sharenth dropped back down and lifted her to the first branch, surprising her with his strength. The moment her fingers caught hold, he let go, leaving her dangle helplessly. “Hey help!” she squeaked. “I can’t pull myself up!” She jerked her head around, squinting through her golden locks to see him staring at her with incredulousness.

            Shaking his head, he jumped up again, swung atop the branch, grabbed her wrist, and hauled her up. With a gasp, the princess glued herself to the trunk. The ground seemed a mile away.

            However, the elf—the irritating elf, the cold-hearted elf, the mean and rude elf, the not-able-to-understand elf—was not satisfied. He dragged her up to a second branch where she froze in pure terror. Then he disappeared into the foliage above her.

            It was the worst night of her life. She straddled the branch, hugging the trunk, afraid of moving lest she drop, so her face and hands were terribly cold. Oh, so cold. Her teeth began to chatter and her nose turned blue.

            At that moment, she saw the elf’s cloak lower through the branches, then drift down onto her shoulders. Shocked, Wailbaby looked up, but she could see nothing in the darkness. The night wore on, but the cold could no longer touch her.

To Be Continued...