The Elf and the Boy Page #2

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

• Fantasy

								

               The boy opened his eyes. All the world around him was pale-blue and silver, swarming into occasional patches of light-green. His feet itched at the gritty mixture of gray rock and deep-green algae he stood on. Ivory, vine-wrapped ruins glowed under faint gold glints of sunlight. Fish and mermaids swam past him, only to vanish into a depth he could not enter. Elf men and women walked or swam, laughing and chattering away the day. He gasped, whirling around this forgotten kingdom. Princess Ervina stood behind him, smiling a warm, maternal smile.
                                     “Welcome to Conchia, dear child.”
                          His mouth fell open. The elves all wore long, loose silver robes and twisted glossy shells into their flowing hair. Four slits divided their necks. Gills? He wondered, after ruling out a gruesome fate. His own neck felt lighter, airier. His fingers traveled along each section of his neck; air seeped in and out, cooling and warming him at intervals. He glanced back at Princess Ervina, who was now laughing and chattering with a few pretty lady-elves. Did she...cut my neck? Am I dead? Did she kill me? No, she’s too little!
                                 The elf princess rose from a canopy bed of deep-green algae and swam toward him.
                                     “Are you happy now, my child?” she asked, her voice low and musical, like a lullaby.
                    The boy swallowed. I told her about the water, didn’t I? And she listened too well...!
                                       “We’ve struck you speechless,” chuckled Princess Ervina, running her slender hand over his chin, “The gills happen naturally to you. When I took you here, it was as if the Great Goddess of Conchia knew exactly what to do!”
                                      “B-But, Princess Ervina....”
                                       “Yes?”
                                       “Why did you take me here?”
                              Princess Ervina went silent. She ran a ruby-ringed finger over her face, over the high forehead, the rounded nose, the budding lips. The other twirled her hair nervously, snaring her silver hair within yet another ring. 
                                    “Well,” she said slowly, “We are lacking in elf-children.”
                                      “Wh-What?”
                                       “Touch your ears, boy.”  When he refused, the princess swam up and ran her own little fingers over the now stiff, pointed tips of his ears. “You are one of us now.”
                                         His heart raced, and tears stung his eyes.
                                       “I-I never wanted to be an elf! What about my family? Why didn’t you...?”
                                     “The water is a cruel mother. She did devour much of our children, or her creatures did. They are small when born, too small, and the creatures in this day are worse than when I was a girl. I mean...more humans.” She breathed deeply. “After all, I've always wanted a child.  And since I’ve never married....”
                                          “Princess....”
                              “Our people, the elves of the water, are worse off than the fire or earth elves. We are too delicate, too decadent. Your people have hunted us enough.” Her brows arched and her voice hardened. “I pray you are as different as you seem!”
                                            “B-But, Princess...!”
                                            Ervina turned away.
                                             “Papa!” she cried, “I’ve brought the boy!”
                The boy turned. She blew into a conch shell, alerting a small crowd of water-elves, along with their leader. The king of Conchia, was light-skinned and somewhat muscular. He looked strangely young to be Ervina’s father, with his longish, wavy brown hair and strong jaw. Almost human, the boy observed, also noting the king’s dark eyes and bold brows. He wore a turquoise robe at his waist and a small, sandy crown speckled with tiny turtle-shells and tarnished coins. The boy inhaled deeply; the king did not look happy.
                                         “Ervina,” the king snapped, “You should have told me sooner! We are in desperate need of a male heir!”
                                         The princess hung her head.
                                         “I’m sorry, Father.”
                                        The king inspected the boy closely, running his fingers through his black hair and looking deep into his dark-brown eyes. The king’s silver eyes burned deep into his bones and chewed away at his heart. It was impossible to look away without fearing his heart’s sudden eruption through the skin.
                                        “Is he suitable, Father?” asked Princess Ervina.
                                         The king nodded slowly.
                                         “What is your name, child?”
                                            “Lagi.”
                                        “All hail Lagi, Prince of Conchia!”
                                       The water-elves raised their arms to the sun.
                                         “All hail Lagi, Prince of Conchia!”
                         After the sandy crown was set upon his head, Lagi felt the king’s fingers rub hot, red paint over his cheeks. Princess Ervina smiled, setting a thin golden necklace around Lagi’s neck, and thin golden bracelets around Lagi’s wrists. He shivered. The water never felt colder than when his skin was buried in gold.

                                                                    XXX
       Auntie Bathilde was the only human who didn't need a disguise to meet elves or giants. In fact, village women whispered that it was Bathilde who taught the giants how to sing, dance, and read. But the round little French witch couldn't comprehend the human fascination with other worlds. Then again, she never seemed to live in this one. Especially not with her constant grin and wide, child-like eyes. Some said she was half-elf, but as far as most villagers were concerned, she was an overgrown toddler-- much like any human from the Facade.
When Ladina walked into Auntie Bathilde's flower-strewn cottage, she noticed feathers bubbling in a blue-and-white pot on the old black stove and a pitcher of dead flowers. She entered the small, dark-violet parlor-- aglitter with painted skulls, pale crystals, dragon eggs, and green candles. Dull, yellow, fraying charts of giant and elf anatomy filled the walls, along with an all-too-detailed guide to mermaid dissection. Even fossilized fairy bones glowed behind framed sheets of amber. Bathilde overflowed the star-patterned armchair, but she was so short her tiny feet dangled above the ground. She looked a bit, Ladina thought, Like the Buddha from the Facade.
"Coquin, coquin," she spat at her feather-duster, watching it dust the shelves for her, "You naughty leetle dusties never listen when I tell you to leave, non? Your maman must be worried over your dusty derrieres!"

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