The Elf and the Boy

I wrote this story because I was inspired by Celtic music and folklore about elves and other magical creatures.

• Fantasy

								
Deep in the cold gray woods, a lady-elf sat  brushing her long silver hair. She was a delicate 

creature whose face wasn’t captured by human mirrors, or eyes, for that matter. Her nose was

 gently upturned, as if shoved backward by a  human finger, and small silver eyes glowed far apart. A slim hand curved under her pointed chin,  and her lips were a soft pink. The branch-brush was too dark and coarse for her liking. Ah, but it does smooth my hair, she thought, tucking a strand behind one pointed ear, And to think, there are a thousand princesses buried in my brain! I learned from the best, I fear.

                    She froze. There was a soft rustling in the green bushes, where the boy emerged. 
The human boy who wandered here, from the noisy, jostling mess of the market beyond. His dark eyes were wide and hungry, although his soft hands and fine maroon clothing suggested a comfortable life. 
Like most humans of the village, he was stocky, bronze-skinned, and black-haired. 
The lady-elf recalled seeing him faintly, between the blur of reddish foxes and tawny deer, but to see him face-to-face was something she never imagined. A plain human, with dull ears and big bones, was something only the Elf Queen and King warned her about. 

“Remember, Ervina, such creatures mean only harm,” her mother warned, “Do not even tempt them, like the shell-brained mermaids. They are worth only their blood.”

                    “Sounds like you’re the shell-brained one, Mama,” she whispered to herself.

                     “What?” the boy asked. His voice was high and nervous, the beat guiding his trembling hands.

                         Princess Ervina shook her head. 

                       “Ah, nothing. What brings you here?”
                        “I-I like going here,” he muttered, “There’s animals and things I’d never seen before.”
                       “You’ve never seen a forest animal before?” she asked, her voice high, musical, almost mocking.
                                     “We always go to sea, Miss..er....”
                                      “Princess Ervina. And you are...?”
                                       The boy didn’t answer but prattled on:
                                       “I’ve seen turtles and whales and mermaids, but I’ve never seen the things I’ve seen here.” 
                                     “Is that what I am to you, a thing?”
                                      “No, I didn’t mean...!”
                                       “What did they tell you about the forest?”
                      The boy stared blankly, as if he hadn’t heard her. He curled up on a tree stump and sat, shivering.
                         “Child, do you really think I would hurt you?” She opened one hand and he froze, mesmerized by her rings. Sapphire. Ruby. Emerald. “Take one, and see!”
                            The boy’s heart raced. He had never faced such a decision before, and his eyes flitted from gem to gem. They were vivid and pure, unlike any jewels in the village. It took all the rhythm of his heart not to slide them on his own fingers.
                                  “Well?” prompted Ervina.
                             He closed his eyes and felt for cold metal, sliding it slowly from her long finger. He didn’t put it on his own finger, but cradled it deep in his palm. 
                              “Fine choice, my boy,” muttered Ervina, “I pray we meet again.”
                              “Wait, wha...?”
                His skin burnt, clinging to the bones. His bones shifted, and his breath clung to his throat. His body stumbled forward, as if he was falling, and his stomach tightened to keep himself from landing somewhere only the elves see. He couldn’t even scream, he was so scared. I should have looked! I should have seen her stupid ring, and her stupid elf face...! 
                               The boy opened his eyes, alone in a realm of gold-white light.
                              
                                                                XXX
                Deep in the pulsing heart of the village, in the brown-thatched cottage of the boy’s family, a plump, bronze-skinned woman sat crying. Her eyes stung and blurred with tears. Her throat hurt from sobbing so long. Now and then, she paused to wonder if the pain was worth it. Her husband had gathered the men into the forest, where they carried torches to see in the endless blue-black night. Oh, Gods, she thought, If only they could find him! I can’t imagine where he’d be....
                             Unless....No! She sat up and shook her head, short black hair bobbing. Elves were terrifying creatures. Oh, they could be pretty and speak the gentlest of words, but they better not ask you-- Water, fire, or earth? To know the answer was death, but to not know? Well, no storyteller had gone that far. After all, there were children listening....
                         Rap-rap-rap. She shuddered at the sounds, shoving her back into reality. She staggered to the door and pressed it open. Her husband flew in, holding her in his big strong arms. But she couldn’t touch him back-- too many questions swirled through her mind.
                                  “Ladina,” he whispered, “We found something.”
                                  “Something?” she sniffled.
                                   “I wish it was our boy, but it might lead us somewhere.”
                                   “To an elf?” she hissed, “To water, fire, and earth? To that ancient, deadly riddle? Oh, if only I’d kept better watch...!”
                                    “Hush,” her husband sighed, backing away. He was surrounded by a few other village men, their torches dimmed to tiny orange flickers, “There’s only so much we can do about the elves. Follow me. You need to see this.”
                           Ladina nodded. Obeyed. What other choice did she have? It had been years since she entered those tall, shadowy woods, and the wet grass was just as cold and sticky as she remembered. Nothing yet. Nothing but orange foxes moving like the sparks of a dying flame.
                            “Should we call Auntie Bathilde?” she asked.
                             Her husband’s face twisted in horror.
                             “That witch from the Facade? Not yet.”
                         They walked farther, where the shadows spread into blue-black walls, and the only thing illuminating the dark trees was a pale silver streak of moonlight. Ladina’s stomach lurched; her son’s chances were looking slimmer and slimmer, soon to chip away into nothing. 
                                “Here it is,” her husband said flatly.
       He pointed toward a tree stump, where a small silver tiara and two tiny rings-- ruby and emerald --glowed like ancient bones.
                             
                                                                  XXX

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