Elsbeth and Sim (Tales from the Emerald Mountains)

by Rhett DeVane

  “We’ve much to discuss. But first, we eat.”

  “I’ll be glad when our rooms are ready,” Elsbeth mumbled. “Taproot’s been kind of grumpy.”

  “You think?” Sim whispered. “It’s only been five days. Imagine if we had to live in his library for five months.”

  Elsbeth snuggled deeper in a clump of goose down, culled from a dump-dive pillow. “Have you seen our new place yet?”

  Sim stuck out one hand long enough to scratch his nose, then returned it to the warmth of the down. “I snuck over and tried to take a look yesterday, and this rabbit poked his head out and went all Combat Joe on me.”

  “Taproot’s had them working day and night. It can’t be much longer.”

  They both jerked when a loud clap sounded across the darkened library. “Get up!” Taproot’s voice called out, with more clapping.

  Elsbeth peered into the darkness. “Hey, we’re finally warm, and it’s freezing and dark outside.”

  Taproot crossed the room and frowned down at them. “Can’t wait until morning. Follow me. Now!” He wheeled around and walked into the next room.

  Sim sighed and stood up, brushing off the down that clung to his clothes. “Might as well do what he says, Lizard. You know how he gets.”

  She wrapped a piece of blanket around her shoulders. “This better be good.”

  “What are you going to do if it’s not? Get all up in his face?” Sim shook his head. “He’s ten times our size now. Heck, everything’s ten times our size.”

  Elsbeth shivered and pulled the blanket tighter. The nights had grown frigid, and the sun disappeared earlier and earlier from the sky. The once-brilliant leaves littered the ground as winter nudged the trailing edge of fall.

  Taproot waited by the exit leading up toward the hollow log’s entrance. A second hole—one neither child had noticed earlier—entered the narrow tunnel to their right.

  Taproot pointed. “This tunnel is for emergency purposes only. In case you need me during the winter. Otherwise, you leave me be—” He swung his head from Elsbeth to Sim. “—both of you. I’m aged and need alone time to hibernate and recharge. I do not require your constant company.” He reached up and released a roll-down blind, closing off the hole. “Come this way.” He climbed upward.

  A few feet from Taproot’s hollow, the metal sink they had salvaged from the burned cabin rested upside down at the base of an oak tree. On one side, a mound of earth formed a small berm, covered with twigs and dried leaves. “Clever, eh? Anyone walking by might think this was discarded lowlander trash.” He motioned to the drain hole at the center of the upturned sink. “I won’t be able to go inside. The rabbits managed the tunnels underneath before I added the finishing touches from above.”

  Sim pulled the flashlight from his shirt pocket. “This calls for my trusty light saber.”

  Light saber? Give me a break. Sim always sounded ready for battle. Glad the small light was in his pocket when they changed. Everything else had remained a normal size. Good thing she never put her patchwork hobo bag aside too, or none of its contents would be of any use to them now.

  “Let’s check it out!” Sim disappeared into the hole, then stuck out his head and flashed the light toward Elsbeth. “What’cha waiting on, Lizard?”

  Elsbeth followed. For someone who had been such a big old weenie in the city, Sim had turned into Mr. Daring Adventure Man. She had changed, too. Who would’ve ever guessed she would dump-dive, eat herbs, berries and nuts, and scale trees for wild honey? Or that she would be a third shorter than a six-inch ruler?

  More and more, she had trouble recalling the faces of her mother and father. She had the company of Taproot and Sim plus the animals, but still, something was missing. Some important part. Elsbeth shook off the forlorn feeling.

  After she squeezed through the drain hole, Elsbeth spotted a dim light and crawled toward it. She bumped into Sim in a long earthen tube that soon widened with enough room to stand. Two tunnels led off in opposite directions. Elsbeth pointed to the wooden signs printed with their names, hanging above the thresholds. “Nice touch.”

  “Cool!” Sim said. “Had to be Taproot who made those. Rabbits can’t write.”

  “Nothing seems impossible anymore.” She gestured to the tunnels. “Which one first, yours or mine?”

  “Mine.” Sim disappeared into the tunnel adorned with his sign.

  “Of course.” Elsbeth threw up her hands, then tagged along. In a few inches, the passageway opened into a cavern.

  “Looks a lot like Taproot’s cave, only not as big.” Sim flashed the light around the room. A kitchen area with a hearth, sitting stones, a flat rock table, and storage bins occupied one side. On the other, a living area spread out, with a sofa made from layers of stacked rocks and down-stuffed pillows.

  Elsbeth studied the earth ceiling. A series of small holes dotted the room overhead. The skylights, fashioned from green and amber dump-dive glass bottles buried bottoms-up, would serve to filter light from the outside. Below the holes, rock bowls held foxfire. The light-absorbing material illuminated the cave with a soft green glow. The rabbits and Taproot had thought of every detail.

  She followed Sim into a second room and located his sleeping quarters, complete with a flat-rock bed lined with layers of down and discarded rabbit fur.

  Sim grinned and flopped down on his new bed. “Finally! A place of my own.”

  “It’s nice. Small, but nice.” Elsbeth nodded. “But then, how much space do we really need? Let’s go see mine.”

  Sim jumped to his feet and they followed the second tunnel to Elsbeth’s apartment. The cave’s layout and furnishings were identical to Sim’s.

  “I can’t wait to decorate this place,” she said. “Needs some dried flowers. Maybe I’ll find a way to draw pictures on the walls.”

  “Ugh. Glad we don’t have to share. Don’t want my cave all sissified up.”

  Elsbeth gestured to one wall. “Shine your light over there.”

  Books! Rows and rows of them! Elsbeth rushed over and pulled one from the line of shelves. “Wow! Taproot must’ve done his magic thing on these. They’re the perfect size for me.”

  “Big deal. Who wants a load of old books?”

  “I do, and you’ll be jealous when we’re stuck down here for weeks with nothing to do.” She flipped through the pages. “This is a guide to wild herbs, with little pictures and where they usually grow. If I can memorize this, I’ll know exactly what to look for in the spring.” Maybe Taproot could shrink her notebooks too. Between her drawings and these guides, the spring and summer herb harvests would be a breeze.

  A noise sounded in the dark hallway behind them, a slithery type of sound.

  “Wha . . . what’s that?” Elsbeth kept her voice low.

  Sim aimed the flashlight across the room. They waited. The noise grew louder. The flashlight died.

  “Sim!” she hissed.

  Elsbeth heard a whirring sound as Sim turned the lever to recharge the battery. The slithering drew closer. When Sim hit the power button, a brown form loomed above them. Elsbeth clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.

  The eyeless snake-like head lowered and jabbed at them, sensed their presence, then angled in the opposite direction. With little effort, it burrowed into one of the walls and its long moist dirt-brown body disappeared, leaving soil and debris in its wake.

  “That was, I think, an earthworm.” Elsbeth took deep breaths to calm her heartbeat. “We used to find them in our garden, but never that big.”

  Sim let out a long whistle. “That will take a little to getting used to.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  A frigid wind blew through the open valley, carrying the promise of snow. Elsbeth and Sim snuggled down inside of Taproot’s backpack.

  “I’m so excited!” Elsbeth said.

  “Going to be bizarre.” Sim secured the guideline cinched around his waist. “Our first time dump-diving since the change.”

  The flap a
bove them flew open and they climbed onto Taproot’s shoulders.

  “Listen up. Same rules as before. Never come here without me, especially now.” Taproot’s gaze roamed the mounds of garbage, then swung upward to scan the skies and treetops. “You’ll be able to squeeze into spaces I won’t be able to go. If you get into trouble, whistle and jerk your rope.”

  Elsbeth shivered. “Sounds scary.”

  “I’m going to start calling you Chicken instead of Lizard,” Sim said.

  Elsbeth tightened her belt line. “Didn’t say I wasn’t going in, just that it’ll be a little scary.”

  Taproot reached up, gathered them into his hands, then sat them on the ground and attached their tethers. “Happy hunting!” Elsbeth and Sim crawled into the trash while Taproot stood vigil.

  Elsbeth had grown accustomed to the piles of garbage, but the view from her new height startled her. Bags teetered over her on all four sides, each one as large as a boulder. If they were so huge, how would a rat appear? She wrapped her arms around her midsection.

  “What’s the matter, Lizard?” Sim’s eyes glittered.

  No way would she tell him how frightening she found the dump now. “Nothing. Let’s go.” She took off in a direction opposite to the one Sim faced. Best way to overcome fear was to tackle it right away. Living on the streets in New Haven City had taught her that.

  A few minutes later, Elsbeth emerged, dragging a doll-sized tea service in a battered box. The cups were chipped and the blue flowers painted on the saucers had faded, but the dishes were the perfect size. She brushed dried coffee grounds from the package and looked toward the guidelines. Sim was still diving. Taproot had descended as soon as she appeared topside. Elsbeth wiped a fresh sheen of camphor salve beneath her nose to cover the odor. Shrinking in size had not affected her sense of smell. The dump still oozed its noxious perfume.

  A shadow fell across hers. Elsbeth looked up to a blur of wings and talons. She screamed and ran toward the tree line, trying desperately to unfasten the tether. A claw hooked into her coat and jerked her up. The coat held tight, choking her as she grappled with the top button. No use! She lifted higher. The tether holding her to the ground snapped.

  Was this the end? If she could remain calm, she might be able to somehow escape. Elsbeth felt a violent yank. The talons released. She hurdled toward the ground. She didn’t have time to react as a second abrupt jerk stopped her fall. The swish of wings sounded above, but Elsbeth couldn’t move her head enough to look up. Below, she spotted Taproot, waving his arms and shouting. The flight slowed to a low glide. Inches from the ground, whatever held her released its grip. She landed with a gentle thump on the grass.

  “By the light!” Taproot ran to her. “Are you all right, child?”

  Elsbeth checked. Nothing seemed to be missing, hanging off, or bleeding. “I think so.”

  Taproot shielded his eyes and searched the sky. “C’mon down,” he yelled.

  Elsbeth clung to Taproot’s pants leg. A massive owl landed a few feet away and settled its wings into place.

  “Benjamin,” Taproot spoke to the owl in a series of chirps and clicks. “I never expected to see you in the daylight.”

  The owl studied Elsbeth and the mountain elf with round golden eyes. “Be glad I decided to break my habits, or your little friend would’ve been a hawk’s lunch.”

  “What hawk?” Taproot scanned the sky again. “I noticed the buzzards. They’re always hanging around.”

  “A red-tailed hawk was perched atop a dead pine—” The owl rotated his head to indicate the direction. “—waiting for an easy meal.”

  Elsbeth swung her head from one to the other, following the conversation. “Um . . . Who are you?”

  Taproot held out one hand. “Elsbeth, this is my good friend Benjamin of the Pensworthy Owl family. We go way back.”

  The owl executed a noble bow. “The pleasure is mine, little one. Ever so sorry for the scare.”

  “You sure you weren’t looking for an easy meal, too?” Taproot asked. “Do I need to check your vision?”

  The owl laughed, a low rumble accompanied by a ripple of his layered brown and gray feathers. “No worries, old man. I’m familiar with your little people, from years back, though I’ve not seen this particular one.”

  Sim’s tether jerked. He bounced from the dump carrying an armful of old socks.

  Benjamin’s yellow eyes focused on Sim. “Ah, yet another one.”

  Sim dropped the socks and stared up at the large bird.

  “Sim, meet Benjamin Pensworthy,” Taproot said.

  Sim stood rigid, his mouth agape.

  Taproot chuckled. “Hard to believe—this young one speechless.” He turned his attention back to Benjamin. “How long will you be staying in our neck of the woods?”

  “A few nights at best. On my way south. Hunting has not been so good lately. Thought I might spot a nice plump rat or two hanging out here, come evening.”

  Elsbeth took a few steps toward the predator and touched the tip of one wing. “Thank you, Mr. Benjamin, for saving me.”

  “My pleasure, Miss Elsbeth.” The owl’s head swiveled toward Taproot. “You might consider making your charges nocturnal. I can spread the word to the night stalkers, but I have no hold over the predators that own the day.”

  Taproot nodded. “Sad, silly old me. Age is taking its toll on my judgment. I would’ve never let the others stray into danger.” He took a breath and let it out. “Lesson learned. Again.” He dislodged a fleck of wastepaper from his beard, frowned, then checked for other dump-dive relics that had taken up residence in the snarls. “Do stop by the hollow. We can catch up.”

  “Later tonight,” Benjamin chirped his answer. “For now, I need rest.”

  That evening, Benjamin appeared in the clearing near Taproot’s hollow. Elsbeth immediately warmed to the predator, her savior. Sim sat cross-legged and stared, not quite ready to befriend the bird.

  Benjamin perched atop Taproot’s hollow and preened, pulling tufts of down from his thick feathers and casting them to the ground. “Gather that together for you and Sim, Miss Elsbeth. It will keep you toasty.”

  Elsbeth held the soft fuzz to her cheek. “Thanks!” She stored the down in her hobo bag. “We need all the warm stuff we can get.”

  “I have an idea, with Taproot’s permission.” The bird swiveled his head toward the mountain man.

  Taproot leaned back, sipping a cup of herbal tea. “Careful, Elsbeth. Benjamin’s notions sometimes run a bit wild.”

  “That was during my time as a mere fledgling, sir,” the owl squawked. “I have matured.”

  Taproot tilted his head. “So you tell me.”

  “I’d like to take you and Sim for a flight, Miss Elsbeth,” Benjamin said. “You might have gotten a bad impression earlier. Flight is joyful, my passion.”

  “You expect us to hang from those?” Sim pointed to Benjamin’s curved talons.

  Benjamin considered. “You might prefer to ride on my back.”

  Taproot’s eyebrows knit together. “Benjamin . . . I don’t know—”

  Elsbeth jumped up. “It’s a great idea!” She gave Taproot her best pleading expression. “He’ll be careful. I know it. He saved me from that hawk, and besides, he’s your trusted friend. You said so.”

  “All right, all right.” Taproot stood and brushed the dried grass from his pants. “Once or twice around the valley.” He shook a bony finger at the owl. “Have them home before the moon rises to mid-sky. And no showing off.”

  Benjamin saluted with one wing. “Roger that.” He hopped from the stump and hunkered down. Elsbeth climbed on first and nestled into the thick feathers between Benjamin’s wings. Sim stood with his arms crossed over his chest, regarding the owl with pursed lips.

  “Look who’s being chicken now,” Elsbeth called down. “Get over it. Since when have we ever had a chance to fly?”

  Sim sought Taproot’s approval. As soon as the old dwarf nodded, Sim joined Elsbeth on the ow
l’s broad back behind Elsbeth.

  “Grab a hunk of feathers and hang on!” Benjamin called out.

  “Won’t that hurt you?” Elsbeth asked.

  “Not a bit.”

  When Elsbeth and Sim gave the all clear, Benjamin spread his wings and lifted off. He glided through the trees, dodging limbs as the children squealed. Then he rose above the pine tops and sailed into the chilled night air. Moonlight bathed them. The only sounds other than the rush of air over his wings were the giggles of two excited night riders.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I can’t believe Benjamin just left.” Elsbeth sipped her tea, added two drops of sourwood honey, and tasted again. “He didn’t even say goodbye.”

  “He’s a bit flighty.” Taproot grinned. “In more ways than one.” The mountain man stirred dried huckleberries into thick acorn flour batter, then poured in a generous dollop of honey. “Don’t take it personally. Benjamin doesn’t favor goodbyes. The first winter storms are upon us. You’ll see him again in the spring.”

  Above Taproot’s hollow, gray clouds hung low, full of moisture. Weak light filtered through the bottle skylights.

  “By the way my knees are complaining, the first snow will fall soon.” He grunted and rubbed his legs.

  Subtle changes in the mountain man worried Elsbeth. She and Sim hung around his living quarters, as familiar as the furnishings. But Taproot seemed more reserved. Little things irritated him.

  “Where’s your cohort?” He warmed an iron skillet over the hot coals, then dropped globs of dough onto the heated surface. The aroma of browning honey and berries filled the cave.

  “Probably by the stream. He’s got this rock collection started. Some are kind of pretty; most aren’t. I don’t know why he likes them so much.”

  “He probably feels the same about the abundance of dried flowers in your burrow.” Taproot used a wooden spatula to flip the pan-fried cakes. “A bit girly, I heard.”