The Corgi Chronicles

by Madsen, Laura

  She sat back down in her throne and tapped her fingers against her lips. “Please fetch the entire Council,” she said to Belara.

  Within a few minutes, a dozen more elves had arrived in the throne room and it was getting a little crowded. Guessing an elf’s age is difficult but the newly-arrived elves all had white or grey hair, and a few had subtle wrinkles—an aging sign that doesn’t develop until an elf is at least a few thousand years old.

  Everyone else in the throne room fell quiet. A few of the Council elves approached Angarath. Like the Queen, they didn’t touch him, but moved their hands around him. Some muttered to themselves. “Evil,” said one. “Terrible,” said another.

  The Queen and the Council elves formed a circle around Angarath, linking hands and chanting low. I only understand a bit of Elvish, but I didn’t understand any of the words in the complicated spell. As they chanted, white streamers of light formed around Angarath, spinning and weaving into a net. The net was impossibly complicated, with hundreds of strands and knots. After about ten minutes, the elves all turned their faces upward and released the spell.

  The net of white light snapped shut, encasing Angarath’s body. The strands sank through his clothing and then through his skin. A sour-smelling puff of black burst away from his body and sank through the floor, never to be seen again.

  The Queen thanked her Council and turned to us. “We have removed his connection to the dark magic. It was that dark magic which allowed him to perform the stolen elven and dwarven magics. Now that the evil is gone, he will be an ordinary human again.” She waved a hand at Angarath to return him to consciousness.

  Angarath’s eyes snapped open. “What happened?” he demanded. Without waiting for a response, he chanted in a harsh language I didn’t recognize. His pupils went wide and he shrieked. “What did you freaks do to me?”

  The Queen approached him. “We have sliced away the evil from your soul. You are now unable to perform magic, and will be tried for the theft and attempted destruction of the Ruseol.”

  Angarath spat at her. “You elven garbage!”

  “Do you admit to having stolen the Ruseol?” asked one of the other Council members.

  Angarath sneered at the elf and struggled against the rope. “Of course I admit it,” he said. “I’m proud of it! I’m the first human ever to outsmart you elves, and I’ll do it again. You’ve got the Gem now, but it’ll be mine again soon, and I’ll finish what I started.”

  The Council elves all looked at each other, communicating telepathically. After a moment, the Queen spoke again. “You have been found guilty. You are sentenced to live the rest of your life here among the elves, cut off from evil and from magic.”

  Angarath howled.

  Gornak stepped up behind Angarath and lifted him up over his shoulder. Angarath was still screaming, now carrying on about “crusty, smelly dwarves.”

  “Majesty,” Gornak said to the Queen, “where would you like me to deposit the prisoner?”

  “There’s a room on one of the upper levels which should work nicely,” she said. “It’s made of wood, of course, but we can easily strengthen it with a spell. It will be absolutely secure. Plus, the window has a wide view of the forest, so our friend can contemplate the beauty and wonder of this world.”

  Gornak followed a pair of elves up the spiral staircase. He returned a few minutes later, chuckling. “He’s screaming his head off up there about how unfair it all is. Personally, I think a long, quiet life surrounded by the serenity of the elves should do him good.” Gornak handed out our silver and emerald necklaces, and returned the elven rope to Nelathen. “These won’t be needed anymore.”

  “My friends,” said the Queen, “let us adjourn for lunch, and then perhaps you would assist me in determining a new location for the Ruseol.”

  We all bowed, and followed her down the stairs to the main level, where the table was now heaped with breads and fruits. Even though the elves didn’t serve any meat, the fruit was so fresh and delicious that I ate my fill.

  While the others were finishing the meal and chatting, I wandered out of the building for a closer look at the maelathier trees. Their trunks were fifteen feet across, and bare of branches for the bottom thirty feet. The golden needles high above me glittered in the sunlight filtering down through the forest. I approached the left-hand tree very slowly.

  I wasn’t sure of the protocol or rituals required in making friends with a sentient tree. I assumed I shouldn’t pee on it. I slowly approached the tree and gently pressed my wet nose against the rough bark. Greetings, I thought hard in my brain.

  Greetings, it responded.

  I was so shocked I jumped back involuntarily, then stepped forward and placed my nose on the tree again.

  You have touched the Ruseol, the tree said.

  Yes, we’ve recovered the Gem and it’s happy, I said.

  Where will it be kept for the next cycle?

  Somewhere here in the Queen’s land.

  I know the perfect spot—a niche on my trunk a hundred feet up. The Gem and I will have long conversations over the next few millennia.

  I barked and trotted back into the elven building, where the others were still lingering over their fruit.

  “Majesty,” I began, “pardon me for interrupting, but I was just speaking with one of the trees—”

  “The maelathier trees?” she asked.

  “Yes, Majesty, I apologize if that was inappropriate, but the tree said it has a hole where we can hide the Gem.”

  The Queen quirked a smile. “You must be a very special Corgi to have spoken with the trees.”

  I wasn’t sure if she meant that as a compliment, or if she was chiding me for overstepping my bounds. “Yes, Majesty,” I said quietly.

  The Queen turned to the others. “Well,” she said, rising from her chair, “shall we go see the hiding spot our clever elranor has discovered?”

  We all followed her outside. She respectfully approached the tree, curtsied, and put her hand on the trunk. After a few minutes, she signaled to a couple of elves. “Rope, please.”

  The other elves pulled out lengths of elven rope. One bowed to the tree, put his hands on the trunk, and began to climb with the dexterity of a squirrel. He quickly climbed to a hundred feet, then threw down the rope end. The other elf, working from the ground level, tied a few knots and within minutes they had installed a pulley system.

  “May we see the hole?” asked Aliiana.

  “If the tree is agreeable,” said the Queen.

  Aliiana laid her hand on the trunk, and apparently the tree consented, because she was quickly hoisted up along the pulley system. Nelathen strapped the Gem in, and it too was lifted up into the air, now rapidly pulsing red and purple light flashes.

  “Pippin,” Nelathen said, “do you want to go up?”

  Corgwyn aren’t meant to climb trees or fly, but since I had made friends with the tree, I allowed myself to be strapped into the harness.

  The ascent was frightening. I bumped into the trunk a few times, and felt queasy seeing my friends on the ground grow smaller and smaller. At last I reached the level of the niche and was extracted from the ropes.

  This far up, the trunk was still at least ten feet across. There was an opening in the side of the trunk, as if a giant woodpecker had been at work. Through the opening was a cozy little chamber about three feet across, surrounded by the pale golden living wood of the tree.

  Aliiana and the elf had already removed the Gem from its harness and had settled it at the back of the chamber. It glowed purple now, and I felt magic crinkle in the air between the Gem and the tree.

  Aliiana said, “Farewell,” to the tree and Gem, and the elf helped her back into the harness to return to the ground.

  I hesitantly stepped forward, and stuck my nose against the Gem. Although it didn’t communicate in words, its sense was joyous. Then I stuck my nose against the tree and thought, Farewell.

  Farewell, little elranor, the tree responded. Com
e back to visit.

  I barked with happiness, and allowed myself to be strapped in for another scary ride. After I was safe on the ground, the elves unhooked the ropes and pulley, and we went back into the Queen’s home.

  We spent a few relaxing days as guests of the elves—dancing and playing music, eating delicious fruits and breads, and exploring the forest around the maelathier trees, but then it was time to go home.

  The Queen spoke with the dryad, who allowed us to use her tree portal. Gornak returned to Montana to meet his kin and travel with them to the dwarven homeland. Nelathen, Barrol and Birgitte went home to the elven community in the mountains, and Aliiana and I returned to the foothills south of the city.

  When Aliiana and I reached her little home in the oaks and sage, she kissed the top of my head. “We did it, Pippin,” she said. “You’re the best Corgi steed a fairy ever had.” I gave her a lick, and dashed off to the city.

  When I reached my human home, I slipped under the gate into the backyard. The little girls were playing in the yard. They saw me, squealed, and ran over to hug me. “Mommy!” they called. “Mommy, Pippin’s here! Pippin came home!”

  Laura came out from the house laughing. “Pippin! We missed you.” She picked me up, looked at my eyes and mouth, and felt my tummy and paws to make sure I was healthy. Then she noticed my emerald necklace. “What have you been doing, you clever little Corgi?” she asked.

  I didn’t tell.

  About the Author

  Laura Madsen is a veterinarian, mom, and writer. She has published many magazine articles for both children and adults. This is her first novel.

  Laura lives in Utah with her husband, daughters, and Pippin the Corgi.

  Find more about Laura’s writing projects at:

  laurambooks.blogspot.com

  Follow Pippin the Corgi on Facebook at:

  www.facebook.com/PippinTheCorgi