Why text instead of comics?

Elf Life is now a serial webfiction, based on the original comics.

There are actually many reasons for this change, including increasing vision trouble, but probably the one thing that is most relevant to you, as The Reader, is that the comic series has failed. It has failed to such an extent that the threat of "removing my bookmark" means nothing. Measured by readership, Elf Life has been comatose since 2002. And it's shown absolutely no signs of coming around.

Yet Elf Life is important to me, and I have quite a bit invested in it. Switching officially to text solves many old problems: updates come quicker, the updates move the story faster, and there is still the opportunity for plenty of illustrations along the way. As long as Elf Life as webfiction can find new readers, that is.

This also provides a solution for fixing and revising the series. Many intended scenes were left out as early as Lake Froth's Bane, simply to make the story "fit". The wedding story was never finished at all, because of the impossibility of producing the necessary volume of art for a complex but unpopular and financially draining project.

Shifting more of my creative focus to writing also allows me to find time to pursue other long-delayed projects (as well as new ideas), unrelated to Elf Life.

The goal for the long-delayed Elf Life book, now, is to put it together as an illustrated novel, supported by the comics as sort of an alternative version, in the back. This is something that could make the Elf Life books different, special.

I know not all readers will be won over. But I do hope you give the new Elf Life a chance. I want to keep the fiction funny, fast, and exciting, and I hope that it will be so much so that you will forget that you're not reading comics.

Magic Bag access better defined

You are on the honor system.

Username: heynonny
Password: nonny

Please consider donating, or at least sending us good wishes.

What is this Kipper you keep talking about?

Kipper is our own archive system, which was written to operate, as much as possible, indendently of server administrators and webhosts. Its primary requirement is PHP.

Kipper is superior to many other comic archive systems in many ways. It is not restricted by the many limitations of AutoKeen, and it does not rely on creating "on-the-fly" archives, like many gallery-style PHP scripts. Unlike WordPress installations, it does not rely heavily on a dashboard configuration and database.

Files can be loaded directly to the comics folders, or uploaded through a simple editing interface. The archive treats image and text files alike, so that new folders can be used for comics or blogs or stories, or any combination.

This is the tech that we've been badly needing for years and years. It is now possible to set up any number of Elf Life-related galleries, and, eventually, it will also power our own Elf Life role playing game.

What happened to the old site?

The old domain got tagged as spammy and was blacklisted by some ad networks.

The site was not spammy, though. The problem was due entirely to idiocy on the part of some fly-by-night, hack moron outfit called "McAfee",  who pasted email addresses in a chatbox that did not require an email address. When spambots found their posted email addresses on our site, and naturally spammed them (DUH), McAfee blamed us. Well, not "blamed us", so much as used crackpot "information" to commit fraud and harm a small enterprise that doesn't have the legal means to challenge them. And since they do not provide a proper method of contacting them on their so-called "website", we have not been able to even try to resolve the issue.

Why, yes, I am hacked off about it. What gave me away?

Anyway, this should be a warning to anybody putting faith in a "company" like McAffee--if this is an example of their methodology, then their entire database is worthless. Your company may be paying them big bucks for information that could just as easily be pulled out of a straw hat.

If somebody ever does get a chance to talk to McAfee, you might want to pass along the startling news that spambots look for email addresses on websites. This must be some new development that they are unaware of.

Dummies.

Where is the alternate adult swim archive?

The old alternate archive was difficult to maintain, and confusing for some readers. It has been mothballed pending broader archive fixes.

The regular archive will eventually be repaired to a state that includes the preferred version of each comic. That is, there won't be any unnecessary censorship in one particular version. There will be naked faeries or not when appropriate.

Most adult material is now kept in the donors-only area, the Magic Bag. This helps me keep more sensitive material out of the hands of chillun', and theoretically should also help raise money to continue the series.

Lock and load

Happy National Ammo Day!

By the way

Don't get too upset about alternate features popping up. It’s not taking valuable time away from Elf Life. I’ve written some Elf Life stuff recently, and it stinks.

I almost couldn’t write at all last month. This month, I admit that I’m taking too much time to settle in and get going, again. But at least now I can reach the keyboard without hurting my back.

Winger Wonders is a tentative late entry to Nanowrimo. That means I would like to have it finished by the end of November, despite my late start.

Yes, finished. Problem with Elf Life is that I meant it as a nearly never-ending series. Almost stream-of-conscious, as storytelling goes. Complicate that with a series of personal disasters over the years, and you get a big, fat mess. I can eventually hammer out the mess, but I can’t erase the personal disasters over the years.

So, yes, even though Elf Life stories prior to the Wedding are “finished”, everything after that is still in disrepair; and it would be nice to get back on track with some new, finished, separate work that won’t be immediately swallowed alive in a sea of unfinished business.

And there’s no need to worry; new Elf Life stuff is coming up.

Leave the worrying to me. And believe me, there’s a lot here to worry about.

Winger Wonders

by Carson Fire

Chapter 1, continued

Escaping the planet was going to be a great trick, if I could pull it off. Despite the high regard the Bigheadians had for their own intelligence, their space program had only managed to reach a few paltry planets in their own solar system, none of them inhabitable.

My only chance was to get my own ship back again. And it wasn’t much of a chance. Before the Bighead scandal blew up in my face, I was already in the middle of a big argument with the Bigheadian bureaucracy. They had gone back on their agreement to keep my ship locked away, and were shipping it around the countryside as part of some stupid “Earthman” exhibit.

You would have thought that in light of the scandal, they would nix the exhibit and put the ship back into drydock. You’d have thought wrong. As it turns out, Charlie Manson is a lot more interesting than Aunt Bea, and the travelling evil Earthman exhibit was packing ‘em in.

At least we Earthmen have learned something about security in the last 100 years. You could hotwire an old-fashioned car and go tooling down the street; but you can’t do anything with a modern Spacester but look at it, without the key. The assembly doesn’t even make any sense without the key, and studying the innards wouldn’t get you anywhere.

So I knew my ship was safe, at least. The Bigheadians were making too much money to let it come to any harm. They were probably taking better care of it than I do.

But, how to get it back?

“Hey, dope,” Klyne said, kicking the back of my chair. Klyne was my navigator. She was also an Anthropomorph. Of course, that’s another taboo word; aliens with feline characteristics object to being compared to cartoon animals. You just can’t please anybody.

Klyne sat down at the breakfast table and slapped something like strawberry cream cheese on something like a toasted bagel. Well, just for simplicity’s sake, we’ll say it was strawberry cream cheese and a toasted bagel.

“Insulted any indigenous species lately?” she said, with a mouthful of toasted bagel and strawberry cream cheese.

My friend the viceroy furiously flipped through the paperback English dictionary I had given him. “Now, that,” he said with some real passion, “is a characterization to which I take great umbrage.”

Klyne waved her knife at him. “S’funny,” she said. “He pretends to look things up, but he already talks better English than you.”

The viceroy was undeterred. “As far as I can make out from this book, young lady, you just called us all worthless shit.”

“What?” Klyne’s eyes widened.

“You called us indigent feces.”

Klyne’s eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full,” I said.

“That’s indigenous species, not—ugh!” Klyne gave up, growled, and stabbed an errant sausage with a fork.

There were more important things to worry about, anyway. I asked the viceroy if he could get me the schedule of the Earthman exhibit. My only chance, as far as I could see, was to sneak out of the residence at night and make my way to the exhibit, and steal my own ship.

“I know it’s on the coast,” the viceroy said. “The other coast, I mean.”

“Cross country? Oh, hell. We’d never make it. We’d be picked out in any crowd.”

“Ha!” Klyne snorted while gulleting her scrambled eggs. “We could wear papier-mâché heads. Uh, why are you two looking at me like that, for?”

Tomorrow, escape improbable!

Wakey wakey

Baughb couldn't take it anymore. The rumbling noise was worse than an army of cave dwelling trolls digesting a late night dinner of slop and beans. When they had worked out the sleeping arrangements, he hadn't taken into account the noise a satyr makes snoring.

Baughb buried his head in his pillow, then got hooved off the side of the mattress when Zeff kicked in his sleep. Again.

Enough was enough. Still scrunching his eyes, Baughb pulled one of the sheets behind him and stumbled down the hall, back to the master bedroom. He homed in on his bed by instinct, forgetting that it was full of faeries and mermaids. Thoe was softly ribiting in her sleep. Prymno was as quiet as a corpse. He settled in on something soft and furry. His head came to rest in between what felt like two very large, very soft pillows. He was faintly aware of the sound of a cat purring in his ear. Psekas felt something warm against her, and pulled the elf closer.

TAMP TAMP TAMP TAMP TAMP TAMP TAMP.

Ryley mumbled in her sleep. "Get that willya, Val," she murmured. "Zyour turn tupay, Ryley," Val muttered back.

TAMP TAMP TAMP TAMP TAMP TAMP TAMP.

Ryley groaned and pulled herself upright, and tottered to the sunlit window, wearing Baughb's nightshirt. It was the middle of the afternoon, but it had been quite a night. She leaned out, with Baughb's big floppy red nightcap bobbing around her face, and tried to open her eyes. She began to dimly focus on the blonde elf maiden glaring at the front door.

"Filis," she squeaked. Her eyes popped open, and the shutters slammed shut. Filis looked up crossly at the noise.

TAMP TAMP TAMP TAMP TAMP TAMP TAMP.

Filis yelled at Baughb to open the door. Her decibel level built up to critical mass, and she let out a deafening NOW!

"Baughb, wake up," Ryley hissed, shaking him violently. She grabbed him by the leg and dragged him out of Psekas' soft grasp. Psekas instinctively tried to pull him back, but he was already gone. She rumbled in her sleep and turned on her side, her pillows avalanching onto Val, who thought she was being buried in teddy bears.

Baughb suddenly found himself awake, lying on the floor again. "Whu," he said. "Oh, Ryley. Is it morning already?"

"It's Filis, Baughb. Filis."

Baughb yawned, a big, healthy, gaping yawn. "Who?" He was already nodding back to sleep. Ryley shook him again. "It's Filis," she whined.

Baughb blinked, trying to wake up. "Oh," he said. "Sorry. I thought your name was Ryley. I'm a little goofy in the mornings. Been through the faerie gate one too many times, you know. Sometimes I forget who I am, even."

"No, Baughb," Ryley interrupted. "It's Filis at the door. You've got to go answer it."

Baughb staggered down the stairs. He was having a hard time putting one foot in front of the other, because he was distracted by the loud rapping.

"You idiot," Filis said, looking over the elf at the open door. "Everybody thinks you're missing, and you're here the whole time. And who was that I saw in your window?"

"Do I know you," Baughb asked. "You look familiar."

Filis shoved past him into his parlor.

At the top of the stairs, the faeries peeked. "Filis," Val whispered in a panicked tone. "We gotta hide!"

"What's all the ubbub-hay," Zeff asked, suddenly appearing behind them, pulling his shirt on. Ryley brightened, happy to see him for the first time, ever. Zeff found himself roughly pushed out onto the stairwell by four arms. He looked back, and Val and Ryley both shooed him with their hands. "Oh, yeah," he said. "I remember." If anybody asked, he and the girls were sleeping over because their house had been destroyed in the big forest fire the night before. Not complicated, completely innocent. No uss-fay, no uss-may. No need even to pretend that Val and Ryley weren't there. Baughb promised that the best lie is the truth, properly choreographed.

After hopping down the stairs, Zeff greeted the non-plussed elf maiden with a big handshake, and promised her that there weren't any faeries or mermaids around at all. That's right, Baughb said nervously. Why would there be? He kicked Zeff in the leg, getting him back for the night before.

Ryley vs Prymno

Flame-haired Ryley rocketed through the smoke, still searching for any sign of movement. Her only hope was that the column of fire she had ignited through the forest would force the big blue mermaid back in the other direction, back towards the hovel.

Baughb called out to Prymno to keep close behind; they had to make it to the clearing. But the smoke was too thick, and they lost each other. Baughb cursed himself for not holding her hand, and doubled back to find her.

But it was Baughb who had veered off course, and Prymno quickly stumbled into the clearing, blearing and curraughing. Then, she went tumbling to the ground when doubled fists hit her from behind.

"Got you," Ryley crowed, as she swooped back around for another shot. "Tell me where Baughb is, or I'll fry you to a cinder."

Prymno couldn't breathe. Sprawled on the ground, all she could do was lash out with several arcing veins of electricity.

"Holy mother of," Ryley started cursing, performing some extreme gymnastics to keep from getting sheared by the electricity. Her wings could grow back, but not fast enough in a fight. She countered with a volley of fire that sent the big blue mermaid scrambling back to her feet and back to the forest.

"Uh uh." Ryley grunted and touched down onto the ground to push herself forward, fast, tackling the tall sea creature. Feeling herself grappled, Prymno burst like an electrified fence, sending a singed faerie flailing back onto the ground behind her.

Val screamed, watching from the doorway of the hovel.

Prymno rose to her full height, stumbled, then turned to run, once again. She had been lucky, so far. The power of a faerie was not to be taken lightly, and a fish was no match for fire.

But she stumbled back again, when a wall of flame suddenly ramped around her, shutting off escape from all directions. The menacing fire faerie glowered at her with eyes burning like suns, and strode through the fire to finish her off. As she passed through the wall, she seemed to become pure fire herself.

Prymno was on her knees. She couldn't cry, because her eyes were dry from the smoke. She couldn't ask for mercy, because she couldn't breathe. She crumpled to the ground, waiting to die.

"For the last time," Ryley said, with a voice ringing through hell, "where is the elf?"

"Help," a distant voice called. "I'm pinned under a tree, somebody help!"

"Oh, no," Ryley said. "It's Baughb."

Prymno was still huddled on the ground when Baughb ran up from behind, keeping low. "Come on, Prymno, quick--take my hand."

Prymno didn't hear at first; she had already prepared herself for death, and was thinking of nothing else but her lost child.

"Hurry, Prymno, while she's looking for me."

Prymno blinked, and the blurry shape of Baughb's hand appeared before her.

Baughb put her arm around his shoulders and helped the big mermaid as best he could. She was near collapsing from the heat. He called out to Zeff the satyr, still sitting on the bank of the frozen creek, to find some water, and to find it fast. There was a mixture of urgency and threat in Baughb's voice that sent the layabout scrambling as he had never scrambled before. He would be back with a bucket of well water in no time flat.

Val pointed Baughb towards the bed, what was left of it. As he eased Prymno down, Baughb worried about the ice, but Prymno told him that it felt good. She needed something cold against her, and she was already starting to get her voice back.

"I'm confused," Val said, "who's going to eat who again?"

Ryley put out her inferno as fast as she could. It took longer to tamp it back down than it did to spread it. But she couldn't stop fretting, because she still hadn't found Baughb. Maybe she had killed him. She sat down on a log and cried. There was nothing left of her fire but a few smoldering ashes.

With a heavy sigh, she plodded back to the hovel. She didn't feel like flying, anymore. Her wings even drooped on the ground behind her. When she reached the clearing, Val was already there to meet her, wearing a party dress.

"Ryley, Ryley," Val sung at her, trying to get her attention. Ryley just plodded on. "I've got something to tell you, and I've got to tell you before you go in, because-if-I-don't-tell-you-before-you-go-in-you-might--"

At the doorframe, Ryley looked up. The hovel had been reduced to almost nothing but a junkyard on a house frame. Worse, there seemed to be a loud party in full swing, on what was left of her furniture. Three carousing mermaids, a lazy satyr, and a floppy-hatted elf were eating and drinking from fragments of plates and cups.

"Oh, Ryley," Baughb called out, cheerfully. "Did Val get a chance to tell you?"

Ryley felt something in her face twitch.

Ryley's gambit

Baughb listened to the mermaid's story, humoring her at first. Her name was Prymno Gelatta, the product of genetic engineering by mermen scientists. She was part mermaid, part electric eel, part killer whale. She was an experiment gone wrong, by the reckoning of the scientists who tortured her night and day.

As soon as she could, she escaped the grasp of the underwater world and found a life for herself in a seaport in the south. She made love to many Greek sailors, who treated her not like a monster, but like a goddess. Her hair was beautiful, then, wavy, and held high in a gold band. She became pregnant, and bore a human child, but she was soon found out by paid henchmen and returned by force to Atlantis. In chains, she wept over her lost baby ever since, comforted only by her fellow prisoners, who had their own stories to tell.

Queen Leukothea had given them this chance to win their freedom. But Prymo didn't altogether trust her.

"It is not just that the Queen is capable of lies and capricious whims," Prymno said. "She is not as powerful as she supposes. The mermaids who serve her scheme and betray her at every opportunity. No one can be trusted."

"Then why go back," Baughb asked.

"There are no safe havens for us," Prymno said. "Mermaids are stationed all along the coast, waiting for us to return with our prize."

The wheels in Baughb's mind were spinning, and he couldn't stop them even if he wanted to. And, somehow, he couldn't stop his mouth, either. "You'll have to stay here, then."

"But--your faerie lover--"

"She'll get over it. I'm not going to let that mob get anything they want. Not even you. In fact, I've got half a mind to let them take me, so I can deal with this 'Leukothea' myself."

Prymno still wasn't sure if she had heard right.

"That smell," Baughb said, "it's getting stronger. It's almost like--" He leaned out from underneath their hiding place and looked.

"Great toad," Baughb shouted. "The whole forest's going up in smoke!"

Valencia's ice hammer smashed through the front wall and narrowly missed cracking Psekas' head, busting through the upended table, instead. "Drat," Val shouted, catching the hammer on its return. "That really was a miss."

Thoe was scrambling in circles. "Run, Thekath, run!"

Psekas, also running in circles, demanded to know where. The hammer crashed through the wall again, and the two screaming mermaids had no choice but to tumble into the creek behind the hovel, with arms and legs and breasts flailing.

They both bobbed right back up, wet and cold and miserable. "Thekath! Thekath! I thtill got my legth! Look!" Psekas was delighted. She still had hers, too.

Then, a sudden cloudburst.

Val leaned over the back end of the house, smiling. Her hair and eyes were no longer terrifying white, but soft violet. "It's not salt water, sillies. Even I know mermaids have to hit salt water to get their fins back. This is just plain creek water."

"Oh, that right," Psekas said.

"Thekath--"

"Just like bath. Psekas forget."

"Thekath, you dummy, pay attenthun--"

"What? What, stupid frog? What so important that--ROWR! Pskeas can't move!"

"That'th what I'm trying to tell you, you big dummy," Thoe cried. "We're thtuck in thith great big block of ithe."

Valencia was immensely pleased with herself. She never meant to hit the mermaids with the hammer at all; she only had to freeze the creek after forcing the mermaids to jump in. She couldn't wait to tell Ryley.

Turning back around, her smile vanished. She hadn't even stopped to think how much destruction she was causing with the hammer. Not only was the front wall riddled with gigantic holes, she had also managed to destroy what little was left after the mermaid vandalism. What remained of the hovel groaned, as if it were about to keel over and die.

Val put her hands up to her face. "Oh," she whinnied, "what am I going to tell Ryley?"

Ice ice baby

Ryley soared over the treetops, flame licking behind her. Somehow she had lost Baughb and the big blue mermaid. Think, Ryley, think. Where were they headed? To the ocean? To some prearranged rendezvous in a nearby village or town? And she had no way of knowing if the blue mermaid would wait for her companions or not. There was only one thing she could do. One desperate gambit.

Zeff crawled out of the creek, soaked to the marrow. He felt the freezing wind blow past him, and saw the creek begin to surge and swell. A cloud billowed out of the back of the hovel and burst. Dude, he said to himself.

"Yowr!" After the cloud burst, there was the sound of falling hail, and the feathers around Psekas' head froze all around her in a shiny canopy. When she moved her arms, it all cracked apart and fell unpleasantly on her head.  "Look at pillow," she said, trying to pull at it. "It froze. How it get so cold in here?"

"The thilverware ith all thtuck together with ithe, too," Thoe said. "It'th that faerie'th doing. Let'th get her!" Psekas nodded assent, and the two mermaids lunged forward at Valencia. Thoe's foot hit something round, and she slipped and somersaulted backwards. At the same time, Psekas bounded onto the floor, and found herself balancing with one foot on a round, icy marble. The floor was full of them! She tried the other foot, and found another marble. She fell forward, trying to use her front paws to get better traction, but she just kept hitting marbles, and found all four of her paws and her two monstrous breasts scrambling in a mad frenzy.

"I'll be waiting for you outside," Val said, cheerily waving at them, as she stepped lightly back out the front door. "Playtime's just getting started."

"Ooooowwwoooo," Thoe moaned, rubbing her round backside. "Thith jutht ithn't my day."

With another howl, Psekas crashed.  She lay face down on the uncomfortable marbles, breathing heavily. "Elf right," the mermaid said, "Psekas would be happy lounging on flat rock. Legs not all cracked up to be."

"We thimply haff no thoithe, though, do we?" The two crawled across the ice to the doorframe. It was slow going, because the marbles still rolled underneath them, and their overly voluptuous bodies only complicated matters. But Valencia stood outside, cheering them on, waving them to keep coming. Then, all the marbles simply began rolling back outside, out the back and into the creek.

The mermaids exulted, figuring that Valencia's paltry magic had worn off. Psekas leapt to her feet. "Me first!" she howled, bounding at the doorframe, with Thoe close behind. 

Psekas crashed full-on, like a smashed bug with huge breasts,  against the  invisible wall of ice that was blocking the door, and Thoe and her equally huge breasts smashed right up behind her. They both fell back on the  hardwood floor as Val waved the ice block back out of the way. Valencia congratulated herself out loud on the fine craftsmanship of her ice sculptures. Making art with ice was about all she knew how to do, but it was through constant practice that she learned how to make the ice smooth enough to be almost invisible.

"And I'll show you another trick," Val said, waving the ice block down hard on the ground. It snapped in two, and fell away, leaving a smaller, more sophisticated ice sculpture inside. It flew into her hand, and she reared back and threw it at them. "Hammer of Thor!" she roared.

The two mermaids gasped and scrambled back out of the way as the spinning hammer flew into the door, narrowly missed them, and boomeranged back into Val's grasp. "That was just a warning shot," Val said. "This is even better than the Hammer of Thor. It's made of  ice, and you're not. This," she said, brandishing it proudly, "is a heat-seeking hammer."

Homewreckers

Baughb's bluff had worked. "Let me save you," he had whispered to the tall, blue mermaid. "There's a powerful faerie in that cottage, and she demands that I kill you three in order to prove my love. She's already angry that I haven't killed your friends, yet."

Startled, Prymno had looked towards the hovel and saw Rylie glowering at them from the doorframe.

"We have to run, and run as fast as we can."

Prymno had no need for further argument. She had scooped Baughb up in her arms and drove her strong legs through the foliage so fast that it knocked the breath out of him, forcing a whoop from the surprise of being carried.

As soon as he had made sure his floppy hat was still on, he navigated his mermaid round trees and outgrowths and down through a ditch, and finally into a dark cul-de-sac, where they both scrambled under a dead log.

Baughb had counted on using the ruse to gauge the blue mermaid's confidence in her powers. She must have been far less powerful than he figured, judging from her lack of composure. She was wild-eyed like a hunted animal, and didn't need to be told to be quiet. He put his arm around her back, and his other hand on her closest shoulder, and she trembled as a roar of fire flew through the forest. Ryley put on quite a show, and Prymno could see the fiery wings as they soared by.

Baughb was a little angry with himself for feeling sorry for her. It would make it more difficult to kill her. He knew he would have to, since the faeries had no stomach for it.

Prymno whispered hoarsely. "I thought--I thought the faeries were all dead and gone."

"They came back," Baughb lied, "came back with me. And they're not about to let me go without a fight."

"My friends," Prymno said. "Will she kill them, too? They're slow and stupid, but they're all I have."

"What are they to you?" Baughb asked. "They failed you."

"No," Prymno said. "We all gain our freedom, or we don't. I've failed them."

Back at the hovel, Zeff the satyr had taken the intelligent coward's way out, splashing, swimming, and sputtering down the creek, away from the hovel. But the cat girl and frog mermaid didn't even bother to give chase, contenting themselves instead with smashing everything inside the house they could get their hands on.

"The plates!" Val shouted. "Not the plates!"

Psekas was tearing the bed sheets to shreds, and Thoe had found a particularly beautiful piece of china, snatched from the cupboard and held high in the air, when Val flashed in through the front door. "You--you tongue freak, that's Ryley's favorite. You put that down." With a satisfied grin, Thoe put it down as hard as she could, and smashed it to little bits on the hardwood floor. Val screamed. Psekas finally discovered the goose-down pillows, and was tearing the feathers out, laughing as they floated around her head.

"That tears it," Valencia said, trembling. "You've violated the sanity of our little home." It was time to improvise. A cold gust of wind flew down the creek and in through the back of the house. "I think I heard somewhere," Val said, her violet hair and eyes turning deathly white, "that invention is a mother. Well, I'm that mother!"

A merry old inn

Baughb’s feet flew across the forest floor, and he couldn’t help wonder if he was more intent on saving Filis or getting out of Dodge.

There was something about living among elves. He had been born an elf, raised an elf, and spent most of his life as an elf. After he fell through a faerie gate, he had struggled with all his might to retun to the world of elves. There was no other life for him but an elf life.

But living in other worlds had broadened his horizons considerably.

And now the familiar became tedious. Traditions lost their luster. The world he had once pined for seemed to him now a never-ending renaissance festival. He loved his fellow elves, but he still felt like a tourist, a dumpy fellow in an Hawaiian shirt, with a camera around his neck and a cigarette in his mouth.

He waved at the children outside a small red elf schoolhouse, as he sprinted through the next clearing. They recognized the floppy-hatted hero from the storybooks, and ran along with him until he disappeared into the forest, again. Don’t worry, he wanted to tell them, I’ll be back.

He slid down a small rock slope and ran past a purple waterfall and made it to the northern edge of the forest by evening time.

Only a fragment this time--I'm moving, and I just haven't had time or the presence of mind to finish this up, the last couple of days. Updates will resume Monday or Tuesday, hopefully. I'm looking forward to this; Baughb is going to get to do a lot more flirting this time around! :D

But this has been and continues to be a very hard move, since we're doing it under duress and with very little money. I have to continue to appeal to readers to donate a few bucks, if possible. Anything helps, because even a little will help us keep gas in the pickup truck we're borrowing.

Things will pick up, so don't feel bad. I've finally listened to long-ignored advice of friends and family to apply for disability, because of my back and eyes. The interview went well (hope it's OK to say that), and if it works out, I will finally have a chance to get on my feet. Thanks, everybody, for your continued support and prayers!

Borrowed boots

[Cars, here--sorry to mention this here, but some people don't read the blog--I'm moving this week, and would really appreciate anything you can donate, even a couple of bucks. Thanks!]

“Dot’s all right. Calm down, little alfie,” Ar’roogah told Filis. “Promise not to bite, kick, hit, gouge, or jump on poor old Ar’roogah.”

Filis held her tongue. The human was setting her free. Although her first instinct was to continue battering him, her intellect reminded her that it might be smarter not to make him change his mind and tie her up, again.

“Those were cesspool elves,” she said.

“Ya. Der shame of it,” Ar’roogah said. “I vas vorking for dem, for money. But dis job isn’t vorth it. I should have known to take on der famous Bub der alf. Even if he is a voman.”

Filis wrinkled her nose at Ar’roogah’s thick accent, which she couldn’t quite place. One of nature’s gifts to elves was the ability to speak and hear through vibrations of meaning. This allowed them to adapt very quickly to the world of man, after their own world crumbled away. This special hearing usually smoothed over accents and other regional affectations, unless the speaker was particularly disaffected from the world around him. Refugees, loners, and artists at times shared this fear. She rubbed her wrists where the rope had burned.

“Wait a minute,” Filis said, suddenly. “Baughb the elf? You think I’m Baughb the elf?”

“Don’t tell me I snatched der wrong alf,” Ar’roogah said, falling back on his hindquarters. “Vell, vhattaya know. I vas sure you vere Bub, you vere such a savage varrior. You vere everyting I heard he vas. Dangerous und tricky, resourceful und relentless. A real fighting machine.”

Filis erupted into a glorious smile. “You really think so?”

“You might even be as good as old Gladfiddle,” Ar’roogah said. “He’s anudder alf who you vouldn’t vant to meet in a dark alley.”

Filis snapped out of it. “Why were you trying to kidnap Baughb?”

“Dese homely elves only tell me dot dey vant to capture dis Bub alive,” Ar’roogah said. “Vun vay or anudder. You know dis Bub?”

“He’s a local idiot,” Filis said. “But you can’t have him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Dot vas my paycheck riding avay,” Ar’roogah said. “Dere’s no job, now.”

“You should have made them pay you in advance.”

Ar’roogah sheepishly nodded. It seemed like a terrible way to earn a living, as far as Filis was concerned. But Ar’roogah admitted that he had fallen on hard times. Younger barbarians got all the good jobs these days. The most competitive were younger barbarians with advanced degrees from Criminea University (Criminea being his pagan homeland, and the source of his unusual accent). It wasn’t enough just to wield a sword. Now you had to be able to understand the angles and degrees of your swordplay; you had to explain the different arteries that you sliced; which attack would cause the most pain, and which would cause the quickest death. There wasn’t much call for an old hack n’ slash man like himself. He was hoping his latest lead would pan out, a job in the south at a carnival, working for a wizard. Until then, he was skint.

Filis thought hard about Ar’roogah’s predicament. “Why don’t you just rob somebody,” Filis asked.

Ar’roogah breathed through his nostrils and held his chin up. He would be a villain for profit, but he would never stoop to robbery. You had to have some standards.

“I’ve got it,” Filis said. “We’ll get some money from Baughb. He’s got scads of it.”

Ar’roogah protested.

“But you don’t understand,” Filis said. “It wouldn’t be robbery. It’ll be extortion. You’ll promise not to capture him for the cesspool elves.”

“But dot vould be a lie,” Ar’roogah said.

“Sort of,” Filis said, “but it’s not robbery!”

Ar’roogah weighed it in his mind. Why not, he figured. He did want to meet the elf he’d heard so much about.

Filis grinned gleefully. She had found an excellent opportunity to put one over on Baughb. And, after all, he had it coming.

But poking around his cottage, they could find no sign of him. Filis didn’t find as much money as she expected; just a small bag, probably for out-of-pocket expenses. But she found a nice sword under his bed, along with an old helmet and some chainmail. The whole outfit was tarnished and kind of ratty, but she couldn’t resist trying it on. She left her dress on Baughb’s bed and forgot about it, a mistake which would make trouble for her, later.

Ar’roogah was in Baughb’s parlor, afraid to touch anything, when Filis came clomping down the stairs in borrowed boots. It was surprising that they fit so well; it was almost as if they had shrunk to fit her. She did not know that they were army issue from the old world, and were designed to accomodate the soldier, so that only one size ever had to be issued.

“What do you think,” she said, waving the sword around with one gloved hand. She had tied her hair back underneath the helmet’s mail aventail, and the flat nasal in front obscured most of her face. Her girlish figure was a little harder to disguise, even underneath the mail tunic, but she reckoned herself a fearsome sight.

“Vhat,” Ar’roogah said, “ve got to fight him for der money?”

Filis tossed him the bundle. “Sorry there’s not more.”

Ar’roogah opened the bag slightly and immediately caught sight of gold, and praised his ancestors. “But, vait--” he began.

“It’s all right,” Filis said. “You didn’t steal it. I did.”

Ar’roogah made a face. He didn’t like violating his principles, but he was painfully hungry.

Filis asked Ar’roogah where he was bound. He’d have to go north to leave the forest, he said. There was an inn where he had been sleeping--not in a room, but in the stable. Tonight, though, he thought to himself, weighing the sack of gold in his hand, he might just get himself a room. Maybe some company, too.

“I’ll come with you,” Filis said. Ar’roogah stumbled out of his musings. “I’ve had it with this life. I want some adventure,” Filis said.

“Nothing ever happens around here.”

Crisis planning

Bound and gagged, Filis kept struggling, every step of the way. She wasn’t going to make it easy for the barbarian to kidnap her. Ar’roogah could hear her still mouthing unintelligible curses and obscenities at him,  at the top of her lungs, even through the gag. Little by little, though, he finally reached his horse, tied to a tree near the clearing where the rendezvous was planned. He freed the rope tethering his borrowed steed, and flung the elf and himself onto its back.

“Aha! The barbarian at last,” Phatuous said.

Phatuous was regent of Froth, and had a big medallion on his cloak to prove it. He was personally leading the cesspool invasion, despite protests from the military. However, since the Frothian military consisted of nothing more than one belligerent, self-appointed general, the military was easily overruled. Phatuous knew that Froth did not have the resources to mount a full-scale attack, so cunning and wile would have to win the day.

His agent, Phoeble, sat dejectedly on the horse next to his, eyes downcast. Battered and bruised, and sporting a terrific shiner, he would not admit to the circumstances behind his injuries.

“Don’t worry, son,” Phatuous assured him. “We’ll punish the monster who did this to you. See? Ar’roogah has the elf trussed and bundled, ready for our triumphant journey home.”

Phoeble raised his head slightly, and squinted at the approaching horse. Why was the elf wearing white? He had been wearing black, the last time he had seen him. Filis’ eyes raised and met his.

Phoeble opened his mouth as if to scream, but nothing would come out, he was so terrified. Phatuous noticed his distress. Even their horses started acting nervous.

Halfway across the clearing, Filis finally managed to swing herself around in a position to raise her legs, and raise she did--kicking the surprised barbarian square in the face, and toppling the mighty Ar’roogah off his horse.  The horse panicked and cantered in the other direction. Filis slipped off, and managed to land on her feet, and immediately began kicking the confused human in the ribs.

“It’s her,” Phoeble managed to scream, at last. “The she demon! Flee! Flee!” In no time flat, Phoeble had turned his horse around and rode away as fast as his horse would run.

Phatuous was confused, and didn’t know which direction to send his horse. When Ar’roogah finally managed to get his face out of the dirt, he tried to grab Filis’ leg, but she was too quick and jumped up on top of his back,  hard, and kept on jumping, trying to kill him with her feet.

Phatuous’ horse overtook Phoeble’s as they both charged past Baughb’s cottage, shouting at the other cesspool elves to save themselves. A runner shouted after Phatuous, saying that General Phlint was awaiting orders. Phatuous called back and told him that it was a rout. Back to Froth, back to Froth!

Ar’roogah saw the cesspool elves bolting, and became more concerned with his loss of income than the small elf hopping on his back. He charged upwards from the ground, toppling Filis off, trying to chase after his employers on foot.

But it was no use. They were gone. The barbarian picked up a handful of dirt and pebbles, and threw it down in disgust. “Scheichtzenhimmel!” he cursed. From now on, he would just have to insist on payment in advance. He had been hired by the cesspoolians in an inn outside of the forest. If he could catch up with them there, perhaps he could still collect his fee. But what to do with the elf?

Filis smarted, having landed right on her butt after being thrown from Ar’roogah’s back. She glared at him warily as he returned, rubbing his chin. She wasn’t entirely sure she could outrun him; her better option was to try to kill him, again.

But then Ar’roogah’s one good eye widened, approaching Filis from the front. “Vat in der vorld are doze?” He said, leaning in to inspect her modest but unmistakable bosom. “Holy mudder, Baughb der alf is a voman!”

Baughb and Airek searched the cliffs until they found the little sprite, who was fretting over Filis’ abduction. He ran one way, and then another, and then back the other way; and he had kept this up for at least ten minutes, until the elves found him.

When the barbarian had first snatched blondie (as he called her) he sprung into action and wrestled him down to the ground, only the big human didn’t seem to notice. Then the sprite chased after him, kicking him in the foot. But despite his Herculean attempts to rescue blondie, the barbarian just kept walking away as if he hadn’t even noticed that he had been defeated in mortal combat.

“Filis abducted,” Airek said, holding his head.

“There’s only one way out of this forest for humans,” Baughb said, “apart from the sea.”

Airek was still panicking. “What’ll we do? What’ll we do?”

“Listen to me,” Baughb said. “Don’t panic.  If a human has Filis, he’s going to be running to the northern pass. What’s out there, past the forest?”

“There’s an inn,” Airek said, “between the forest and the sea. Farmland all around that and beyond. Fishermen up the coast.”

“The inn will be the first place to look. Maybe I can learn something there, anyway.” Baughb had a pleasant thought. “Maybe I can get some real beer while I’m at it.”

“Don’t joke,” Airek blurted.

“Never underestimate beer. Especially when dealing with humans. Half the world’s problems could be solved with beer, if folks gave good beer half a chance. The only drawback is that the other half of the world would be a drunken brawl.”

“Stop blithering,” Airek yelled, pulling at his hair.

“Oh, right. Anyway, you go get some elves together, pronto. Send some to comb the edge of the forest to the west, make sure that there aren’t any ships nearby. But then, General Airek,” Baughb said, putting his hand firmly on Airek’s sloped shoulder. “You have to reassemble the army. There’s no telling when or where the cesspool elves will attack.”

Airek’s eyes bugged out. “General? Army? Attack?”

“In a nutshell,” Baughb said. “I’m using the powers vested in me when we fought off the viking hordes. Commander of the Elven Forces of New Alfheim.”

“But there are no Elven Forces of New Alfheim,” Airek objected. “Not any more!”

“Right,” Baughb said. “That’s why I need you to reassemble them.”

Airek gritted his teeth. “What,” he hissed. “All five of them?”

“At least,” Baughb said. “Look, Airek. I’m serious. This abduction has to be a diversion. The cesspool elves are slippery. I know they’re up to something. Don’t go to the council asking for help, if that’s what you were thinking; sound the general alarm.”

Baughb turned and saw the sprite. “And you,” Baughb said, winking, “watch over him and keep him safe, will you?” With that, Baughb bolted down the cliffs, bound for the northern pass.

“Great,” Airek said, sneering at the sprite. “My little sergeant-at-arms.”

The sprite saluted.

Filis bound

The first blow Filis delivered to Phoeble gave him a black eye.

The sprite, who had been nodding off, suddenly bolted upright and asked if the war had started already, and why nobody bothered to wake him up for it.

After that, Phoeble held his arms up over his head to protect him from the pelting blows. Somehow, Filis got ahold of the scroll again, and started hitting him in the head, in the stomach, in the back, in the groin. Then her foot came up and kicked him in the seat of the pants, sending him sprawling and clamoring for the forest.

“What kind of elf do you think I am?” she roared.

Battered and bruised, the cesspool elf turned and delivered one final threat.

“Mark my words,” he said. “Today begins the end the world as you know it.” With that bit of predictable melodrama out of the way, he scrambled into the underbrush and disappeared.

Filis took a deep breath and let it all out. “Asking me to do something like that,” she growled. “I’ll kill Baughb the elf when I damn well feel like it.”

“Well,” Airek said, picking the scroll up once again, and rolling it up neatly. “Maybe there’s still a chance to talk with them. These negotiations can always become a bit heated.”

Filis was still angry. She spun around, ready to lay into Baughb himself, then spun around again and remembered that he had run away with a bucket on his head. “Some hero,” she said.

“I’ll deliver this to the elders. They’ll probably want to send an emissary to talk with the cesspool--I mean, the Frothians. It’s probably nothing,” he said. “Maybe we can clear this up with some kind of a public apology, or something. Er, you wouldn’t happen to want to--”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Filis said. She didn’t like seeing the elders. The geezers always gave her the heeby jeebies and the hairy eyeball. She knew they had it in for her; they would see her, and shift around in their seats uncomfortably and mumble at each other. “I’m going up to the cliffs to gambol,” she growled.

“Pardon?”

“I’m going to go gambol, damn it.”

Gambolling was a popular elf activity that Filis felt she should embrace, but somehow always failed to hold her interest. She found a particular beautiful spot overlooking the valley, and did a few requisite turns in her delicate slippers, but presently found herself in a funk, sitting and watching the billowy clouds drift by. The sprite, who had followed her, sat on a little rock, watching with her.

“It’s not fair,” she said out loud. “A long time ago, the world was full of goblins and faeries and dragons. You could be a hero, back then.”

The sprite closed one eye and dug in his ear with his little finger.

“What chance does somebody like me have? If you live in a small, dull world, you live a small, dull life.” Even the clouds were against her, briefly forming the shape of a slender-snouted elf with a big, floppy hat.

A human eye squinted at the elf maiden from the nearby forest. “Blonde alf,” he said. “Dot must be der vun.” His name was Roogah, son of Ar.

Ar’Roogah the barbarian.

He let loose the clasp of his Frothian-issue cloak. It would get in the way if there was a fight, and he didn’t particularly care for sneaking around, anyway. Worst of all was working for elves. And even worse than worst of all was working for homely, ill-tempered elves.

Still, he needed the money. He was getting up in years, and the work didn’t pay as well as it used to. He was still muscular, but he had put on some weight. He was still keen and agile, but he didn’t see with his one good eye as well as he used to. He adjusted his eyepatch and wiped the sweat off of his upper lip. He had heard that Baughb the elf could be dangerous, but to him he looked rather small and effeminate. What elves considered fearsome might not be great shakes.

Ar’Roogah crouched and ran. The elf was preoccupied with daydreaming, and he managed a clean snatch.

Filis suddenly found herself lifted off the ground by huge, bare arms. She flung herself around in protest and caught a glimpse of the horrid human head looming over her, thick necked and stupid-looking.

A sharp scream tore through the valley.

Airek heard the scream and yelled, himself, when Baughb rounded a tree and collided with him, sending the neatly-rolled scroll unrolling through the air.

“Airek,” Baughb said, bracing him on the shoulder. “Did you hear that?”

“That howl? What was that, some kind of monster?”

“It came from that way,” Baughb said, putting his free arm around Airek’s back. “Come on, let’s go!”

“But the scroll--” Airek protested, in vain, trying to make his small legs move fast enough to keep up with Baughb’s.

Ar’Roogah kept on bellowing until he managed to remove Filis’ teeth from his fingers, and pushed her face down on the ground. “Dot von’t hoppen again,” he promised. “Dey said you vas a terror, und I can see dey veren’t kidding.” He pulled a rope from his belt and quickly lashed Filis’ flailing arms behind her back, then used the cloth from around his own head to gag her mouth. Still kicking, he tucked her under his arm and carried her off to claim his prize.

Art gallery

“Oggie,” Baughb yelped at the sight of the huge nose, which, from his angle, seemed to fill the room. Still sprawled on the ground, his face flushed with embarrassment, he apologized for his mistake. “Aedulf, sir, excuse me.” The old elf had been nicknamed Oggie--in the old world, when he was a mute child, and Baughb his foster father. Since Baughb’s re-emergence from the faerie gates, their relationship had changed in a most awkward way.

“I'm sorry, Baughb,” the knobbled old elf said, holding out one hand. “I didn't mean to take you by surprise.”

“It's all right,” Baughb said, “my nerves are on edge, that's all. What are you doing in here?”

“Where else should I be but where I am?” The old elf chuckled. Nothing could annoy Baughb more than repeating one of his own Baughbisms at him. “Besides, what are you doing here?”

Baughb rifled through the displays. Unfortunately, most of the items were medals and other useless bric a brac. “The last painting is almost finished,” he said, almost absent-mindedly.

“Well, then,” Aedulf said. “I’m here to look at it.”

“I don’t have it with me,” Baughb said, sizing up with his hands bits of the armor, then dismissing any of it as a source of weaponry.

 “You’re in one of your fits again,” Aedulf said, hooking his arm into Baughb’s. Baughb protested. “I insist,” Aedulf said. “You’ve done a marvelous job putting this gallery together. You’ve successfully--what was your word, again?--repurposed the shrine for a new era.” The two elves entered the galleries above the well, where hundreds of portraits were hung in neat rows. Aedulf excused himself for a moment, set his staff against the railing, and clapped his hands sharply. “Sprites,” he called out. “More light!”

The drawer of a very small cabinet creaked open, and an impossible number of shimmering sprites flew out, in formation. Their flight path repeated several times over, as they lit a multitude of points of light throughout the hall. These points already hung in the air, dimly, but as the sprites flew through them, the lights brightened and brightened. At first glance, it may have looked as if the hall was overflowing with endlessly tiered chandeliers; but the lights simply hung in the air, like an array of small, indoor stars. When they finished, the sprites filed back into the drawer, single file. One of their number broke rank and glided to the gallery. “Hey, it’s you,” he said to Baughb. “Have you seen what’s-his-name?” Sprites weren’t good with names.

Baughb smiled. “He’s on a job for me,” he said. “he sends his regards.”

“Just so long as he’s taking care of himself,” the sprite said. “Tell him the hive always welcomes his return.” With that, the last sprite joined the others in the tiny drawer, which snapped shut behind him.

Aedulf had already retrieved his staff, and was studying the paintings with honest admiration. “Amazing,” he said. “I would never have thought of this. A gallery of heroes to replace the one hero. A celebration of survival.”

Baughb turned his attention to the paintings, as well. “They say I was sent here to save the world. I don’t know of a better way of doing it than to show everyone that they’ve already done it, themselves. It’s heroes like this that make a world. Not temples and castles and towers--”

“But,” Aedulf interrupted. “There are those who still yearn for those things. A return to the greatness of Old Alfheim.”

“Greatness. I’ve seen that greatness close up. I sometimes think we’re better off without those things,” he said. “Still, who’s to say we won’t build that kind of world, once again? The point is, the farmer doesn’t need those things. The elfwife, baking delicious pies, what use does she have for royalty?”

“The village layabout,” Aedulf said, tapping with his staff on a painting of a particularly fat and jolly elf. “Telling dirty jokes down in the pub, no doubt. Your definition of hero is eccentric.”

“Where would we be without comedians and story tellers,” Baughb asked, laughing. “This old fellow reminds me of my father. He was a gardener, you know. Told some real roarers in his day. I don’t think mother ever understood any of his jokes. She just loved being around so much laughter and good humor.” He found himself tugging absent-mindedly at the suit of the black prince that he was wearing. He promised his mother he would wear it one day, but he was glad to never have to return to the old kingdom she told him about. From the way she described the place, it was as black and somber and pompous a kingdom as his costume. Little wonder she risked banishment for the sake of a good laugh.

“You’ve done very well, Baughb. I’m proud of you.”

“You might not be,” Baughb said, “after I tell you that the cesspool elves are back.”

“Eh? The who?”

“I am such an idiot,” Baughb said. “I hired them to paint all of these pictures, and I didn’t even realize who they were. Now that I think of it, they must have ALL been cesspool elves. In disguise.”

“You mean those odd fellows with the pointy heads and the snap-dragon teeth? Their disguises must have been magical, indeed, to take in an experienced warrior like you.”

Baughb nodded meekly in assent. In truth, there was little about magic that elves truly understood themselves. Whenever something embarrassing or difficult to explain cropped up, it was a simple matter to blame magic. But as Baughb pictured Zoot Alors’ army of assistants in his head, he realized that he had been taken in by a lot of bad wigs.

“Well, come along,” Aedulf said, retrieving a key from his black robe. “Time to show you what I’ve been up to in the meantime.” Aedulf pushed open the door and motioned Baughb to go in.

Baughb stuttered. “It’s me.” The small cell was a tribute to Baughb the elf, dominated by a life-size figure on a pedestal, wearing Baughb’s old green togs, his hat, and his old stomping boots. On the wall, his old sword and shield hung, as well as other memorabilia from adventures long ago.

Baughb still kept a small sword at home for emergencies, but he was officially retired. After the viking invasion, the forest had been quiet. Since then, he had been trying very hard to blend into contemporary elven society. He had been wearing fashionable vests and chains, even though he felt like a prisoner in his own clothes. Filis had even made him give up his cherished floppy hat, telling him that it was out-of-date and ridiculous.

“Now, before you object,” Aedulf said, “this is a small room. The hall is no longer a tribute to you, but there’s no reason why one small room cannot remain dedicated to your honor. A small celebration of, er...”

“No objections at all, Oggie,” Baughb grinned broadly, his floppy hat flung comfortably over his head. He quickly disrobed the mannequin, then started pulling off his own royal garments. “I think this thing would look better in black, don’t you?”

Outside of Baughb’s cottage, a small group of cloaked elves conferred nervously. A very tall, broad creature in a cloak hung back in the shadows. Another runner with a pointed head came sprinting out of the forest.

“Well,” one of the elves demanded. “Is he coming?”

“I don’t know, my liege,” the runner stuttered. “He gave us the slip.”

The cloaked elf pulled down his hood, revealing beady black eyes that shifted back and forth under an overgrowth of brow while he was thinking. “He was observed leaving, weaponless. Taken by surprise, he has to come back here for his sword. So well planned, yet still a glancing chance of mishap. You there,” he said, motioning to the tall creature. “Barbarian! Go track the blonde elf and capture him, if you can. You others stay here, just in case. We will take him alive, one way or another, then meet at the appointed place. Now, go!”