The Elf and the Boy Page #5

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

• Fantasy

								

                  The elves’ high-pitched laughter clinked and clattered like gaudy music. Ladina groaned. If it were any other time, she would have stormed straight out of there. But now she looked one lady-elf straight in the eye and asked,
                                   “Excuse me, miss, but have you seen a short, dark-skinned boy?”
                         The lady-elf opened her mouth to answer, but quickly closed her mouth. She and her friends shared unblinking, wide-eyed glances-- a wordless conversation that said far too much.
                                          “Then you have!”  Ladina cried, throwing her hands up.
                               The elves remained silent, as one shuffled cards and arranged them slowly across the table. Ladina squinted at the illustrations. A beautiful princess. A hooded hermit. A dark-skinned human child....
                                         “Tell me where Lagi is,” she demanded, pressing a plump finger into the child-card, “That’s him, isn’t it?”
                                 The elves stayed silent, folding and unfolding their cards, sweeping long, delicate hands over the cracked ivory table. Ladina rolled her eyes.
                                    “If you won’t tell me, then show me.”
                            One lady-elf, the one who had tried to speak, stood slowly. An elegant dame with long blonde waves and loose turquoise robes, she aimed a finger to her left. Ladina turned. There was a small hollow of gold-white light, where a silver-haired lady-elf sat, twisting a blue diamond necklace over a black-corseted violet robe-- a lady-elf, and a familiar dark-skinned boy. Four gills cut into the boy’s throat, and several gold bangles glimmered from his wrist. His brown eyes softened with fear.
                                       “Lagi!” Ladina shouted, swimming toward the light, “Lagi, I’ve been worried for so long!”
                                Lagi whipped his head around.
                                     “M-Mama, I...I thought you were dead.”
                                      “Dead? Why...!”
                                        The silver-haired elf raised an eyebrow, supremely repulsed.
                                        “Lagi,” she spat, “Is this her?”
                                       “My mother,” he responded, “Please let me visit her, Princess! I swear I’ll come back!”
                                      The elf’s lip wobbled, and a tear trickled down her cheek.
                                     “B-But Lagi,” she whimpered, “You’re the only child I’ll ever have.”
                                     “And he’s my only son,” snapped Ladina, “So I advise you either find an elf of your own, or die trying.”
                                          Lagi’s jaw dropped. He’d never heard his mother sound so angry, with such a cold tightness sharpening her voice. Princess Ervina recoiled, as if Ladina had spat in her face. 
                                  “Die trying, is that it? Then I suggest you do the same!”
                          Before anyone could react, a long, silver spear swirled into the princess’ hand. The blade was as sharp as a shark’s fang, and a glowing dark-blue jewel dangled over the top. Lagi froze. The jewel seemed to emanate more than light-- a feeling of warmth, a feeling of comfort, a feeling of hope. He swam toward the princess, only to recall the rage in the elf’s eyes, the sour smirk spreading across her narrow face....
                                 “You foul human woman!” roared the princess, “Sick and bloated with disgusting humanity-- I want to feel your heart beating on my blade!”
                           No! He looked down at his finger. He didn’t know why, but the sapphire ring seemed to be his only savior. As the princess swam after Ladina, thrusting the spear toward her, he tore the ring from his finger. Nothing. He held it toward the light, hoping a shark would eat it, or lightning would strike. He eyed his horrified mother and laughing captor, until he felt something dissolve. What? His hand felt lighter. He looked up, and a strong, glaring beam of light shot through the water. The ring faded into gray ashes and flew away-- gripped by an iron fist of wind.
                                      “Father!” Ervina cried, her voice high and shaky, “Father, forgive me, for I did not produce an...!”
                          She went silent. Gray stone crackled over her joints, her limbs, her skin. Before they knew it, the elf princess transformed into a gray statue. She was petrified in mid-swim, with her wavy hair flared around her, the spear raised above her head, and her mouth gaping in shock. Two thin crimson streams fell from her eyes and drifted into the water. Blood! Ladina thought, Even in death, she cries for a child!
                          “Oh, Lagi!” gasped Ladina, wrapping her arms around her son, “I’ve missed you more than you’ll ever know!”
                           “I missed you too, Mama.”
                            “And you were so brave! I never would have thought...!”
                            Lagi smiled slowly.
                            “I had to do something, before I became someone I didn’t want to be.”
                            “I...I see. Well, I can’t stand this place any longer. Let’s go home.”
                              “Thanks, Mama.”
         As the two humans swam to the surface, the statue’s bleeding eyes shifted upward, watching them escape into the light she craved.
                                                             XXX
               Several years later, some water-elves grabbed their petrified ancestress and swam to the surface. They carried Ervina deep into the cold, green-black abyss of the woods, where a wandering human would be delighted to find her. As they stood back, they noted the blood dripping from her eyes-- “slithering like scarlet snakes”, wrote one snarky elf-poet, or as Auntie Bathilde observed “falling like ‘uman tears.”
               "I see it too well," Auntie murmured, tucking a piece of hair behind a half-pointed ear, "Like Maman. Za earth and sea elves both cry when petrified." She reached her into her pocket, massaging a jagged chunk of rose quartz. "If we looked so pretty when sad, we would pray to ourselves, no?"
                   The princess crumbled. Nobody thought it was possible, but thick patches of moss sprouted over her slender arms and legs. Two slim, bejeweled fingers cracked and fell from one hand, quickly stomped underfoot by hard deer-hooves and sharp-clawed fox-paws. The gray of her stone faded into a pale, milky tone-- almost gleaming white, like the forgotten goddesses of ancient temples. Her fossilized heart no longer beat, but faded into something soft enough to melt.

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