Tor Oatenleif was Fio Nogbottom’s best friend in the whole world. They had become friends as wee little sprouts and had mostly remained so, except for a few odd times when they had come to blows, competing for the attentions of a a beautiful lass. Luckily, for the friendship, they had finally fallen in love with two different women and now had children that played together as they had.
On this fine summer morning Tor , carrying water from the creek, has run into Fio, who is excited to announce that he and his lovely wife are expecting their third child. Tor laughs heartily and says that after he delivered the water he was coming to tell Fio the same thing. Both elvse are excited that their new arrivals will already have a friend to play with. Also to be honest it kept a tiny bit of resentment at bay because in all things, the friends were still rather competitive with each other, though in a good natured way.
Termonius L. Woodburrow is an elf that had lived with his mother his whole life. There’s nothing extraordinary about that except for the fact that he was 795 years old. Elves live a long time by human standards, and stay with their parents longer than humans, but even for elves this was quite a bit over the usual time. To use a human coined phrase, there was definitely “a failure to launch”.
Every time Termonius would even think about or hint to his mom that it might be time for him to move out, she would bake his favorite pie, fairy berry, bring him his slippers, fluff his pillows and just generally spoil him rotten. Even if he had gotten the gumption to leave his cozy home and find a wife there were not many elf maidens who could meet the standards that his mother so capably set. So Termonius stayed put year after year. And it would perhaps have gone on that way for perhaps another 500 years or so, except that mom met her untimely end at the hand of a very angry dragonfly who burned her to a crisp with it fiery breath and a haughty twitch of its tale.
Termonius had no idea how to take care of himself. So he realized rather quickly that he needed a mo… no make that a wife to replace his mom.
Though he didn’t expect that anyone could live up to his mom, he still held great expectations and standards in his mind for his future bride. When he courteously explained these standards to the maidens he was very quickly and unceremoniously shown the door. After this had happened with the first fifty or so maidens, Termonius began to assess and understand the situation he was really in. Not only would he not find someone like mom, but he would be lucky to find anyone at all. What had once been an arrogant judgmental smirk on his face when courting now turned to the “snail caught in the headlights”. He was extremely nervous now when coming to call. It did not help his prospects to have sweat rolling down his face. He made no further demands and was practically begging someone to please marry him
It is quite possible that what Termonius should be doing with his time is enrolling in classes on how to take care of one’s self.
In the Age of steam, man discovered how to harness the energy of heated water and began to invent many marvelous and some not so marvelous contraptions that allowed them to do things only dreamed of in the past. The elves, ever watchful of the goings on of mankind, took notice. Some of them who had long been envious of the fairy race’s ability to fly, saw an opportunity to finally join their cousins in the air. They began a mad dash to see who would be the first to build workable wings. And really, “workable” was the key word because many elves perished dreadfully, failing and falling after leaping from the highest trees only to have their flimsy, fluttering wings tear and finally collapse.
After a short time they realized they needed a stronger, more durable material to use in the construction of the wings that would grant them the freedom of flight. And that is where they began to follow the folly of mankind, beginning the slaughter of field mice and other small creatures to obtain their skins for making durable leather wings. In doing so, they were finally able to achieve their eons old dream of soaring through the skies, but at what cost to their souls? The elves had always been the guardians of nature. What now? What else would they be willing to destroy next in their selfish pursuit of unnatural desires?
Copyright 2013 Ann Gates Fiser All rights reserved
I met Flegghop Durgbiner while sojourning in Anaria. While he posed for me I posed questions about his life in Anaria and the customs of the land. Eventually the conversation moved onto the topic of fashion and he told me that Anarians had not always been so flamboyant. He said it started a couple of centuries before with a a few elves that had worked the grave yard shift at a shoe cobbler’s workshop. They made these incredible shoes that were so colorful and different that everyone began to purchase their shoes exclusively at the shop. Other elves heard about their successes and began to make clothing in the very elaborate style of the shoes. They were soon competing to see who could make the most astounding outfits. And since then, Anarians had whole heatedly adopted the new way of dress and also began to compete with the most outlandish fashion that they could purchase from the wily elves. The outfit Felgghop wears in in my drawingf, was very modest by Anarian standards but he was out of sorts with his elven tailor and had not received anything new from him in months. He felt that if they didn’t make up soon he would lose all standing in the community as a fashion maven. Poor Flegghop!
Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved Ann Gates Fiser
The elves of Misty Glen have just now been told by their elder leaders that they must yet again leave their home and find a new place to live. The humans have posted signs and machines are coming to clear the land. It’s becoming harder and harder to find wild places, which are farther and fewer between. The elders are worried that the very old and the very young will not be able to make the journey. And what then? Is it only a matter of time before there is no wild wood, no place to call home?
Copyright 2013 All rights reserved Ann Gates Fiser
Cali is a mischievous imp of an elf who lives deep in the forest and plays benign tricks on people who pass by. If you catch her she will promise to paint you a picture in return for her freedom. And you should make the deal because she’s a pretty good artist!
Con ayuda de Alejandra Moglia estoy armando este blog por intermedio de WORDPRESS. Es en reemplazo del que tuve en Blogger desde noviembre del 2011 y que en enero del 2014 el mismo Blogger eliminó sin aviso previo y sin darme ninguna explicación. En este nuevo blog iré incluyendo mis textos de LIJATE que había publicado en aquel otro. Son textos de los que pienso no volverán a editarse en libro, pero lo hago para que lleguen a la mayor cantidad posible de lectores sin discriminar a nadie ni por la edad, ni por el sexo, ni por asexuado y ni siquiera por analfabeto; al contrario. _ (HACIENDO CLIC CON EL MOUSE EN CUALQUIERA DE LOS NÚMEROS O TÍTULOS QUE ESTÁN A CONTINUACIÓN DE "INICIO", PUEDE ACCEDERSE A LOS DISTINTOS TEXTOS QUE FUI PUBLICANDO HASTA AHORA.)