Cronica Acadia

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Cronica Acadia Page 26

by C. J. Deering


  Dangalf looked at the opaque water. “Can I get some clean water?” asked Dangalf.

  “And why is that?” challenged Nerdraaage.

  “It’s murky,” explained Dangalf.

  “It was murky when I got in,” said Nerdraaage.

  “But you just had Doppel’s filth. Now it has the filth of both of you.”

  “Three is a sacred number!” said Nerdraaage.

  “Not when it comes to bathing!” said Dangalf. “I’m going to order some more hot water.”

  “If it was Ashlyn’s bath water, you’d chug it like a beer!” said Nerdraaage.

  “What is that supposed to mean!” demanded Dangalf.

  Doppelganger turned away with an expression that said he couldn’t believe what Nerdraaage had just said. “Go on,” commanded Nerdraaage, arms folded in indignation and nodding to the tub.

  Dangalf was finally shamed into taking the third bath. He stuck his toe in the murky water. It was still warm, so it offered at least some comfort. He lowered himself into the tub, and it wasn’t too bad. Nerdraaage burst out in laughter. “What?” asked Dangalf.

  “You wouldn’t see me taking the third bath! Rub a dub dub!” Dangalf ignored their laughter. It was good to wash away the blood, sweat, and dirt from the past few days, even in used bath water. And the only reminder that he was taking third bath was a fine layer of grit under his backside. And he fretted a little about Nerdraaage’s vulgar suggestion. Was his attraction to Ashlyn so obvious?

  LXX

  When Dangalf, Doppelganger, and Nerdraaage took their usual table at the King Bee, they were surprised to be celebrated by all the gathered elves, who for the most part had ignored them during their stay. Word had spread of their heroic deeds just beyond the Crimson Wall. Dangalf found the praise intoxicating and wished he had done great deeds in the other world. But then he thought, in his old world, he might not have gotten any praise. He thought the Keepers might have been criticized or even charged with a crime for acting with such autonomy and decisiveness and lethality. Best not to think back about the other world, he thought finally.

  The three were already drunk with praise and were well on their way to being the other kind of drunk when Ashlyn arrived. She headed for their table only to be stopped at the bar by an elf with whom she exchanged pleasantries. And then other elves, male of course, exuberantly celebrated her arrival. She was dressed in her usual barely there leather, so that wasn’t the difference. It was all in her attitude. Ashlyn touched the elf’s arm (What a flirt!) as she excused herself and walked to her friends’ table. “Where’s your dagger?” Nerdraaage demanded.

  “In the room.”

  “Why aren’t you wearing it?”

  “Metal is a problem. It will drop off when I morph. And when I change back, I have to remember where it is and hope no one’s taken it.”

  “Can I have your dagger?” asked Nerdraaage.

  “You already have yours and Dangalf’s.”

  “You can never have too many daggers,” said Nerdraaage. “What about your clothes?”

  “What about them?”

  “Do they fall off when you morph?”

  “Leather and fur clothing will stay on me during metamorphosis,” said Ashlyn. “Cloth would fall right off me, leaving me naked when I changed back.” Ashlyn looked at Dangalf as she said this. He swallowed, convinced his Adam’s apple had taken on the size of a plum. “Stone, metal, paper—it all drops off when I morph,” she continued.

  “That could be a problem,” said Doppelganger. “Not being able to carry any gear.”

  “We don’t need a lot of gear. Plus, I always have you guys to carry my gear,” she smiled.

  They excitedly told her stories of the Crimson Wall, where elves and trolls harvest the deadly blossom when not in mortal combat with each other. And the troll forward camp that no longer existed because of the sabotage and slaughter they had wrought. And the promise of Icil to teach them griffin riding when they were ready. Oh, and the enchanted map that he bestowed on Nerdraaage.

  Ashlyn politely listened to their stories and then told them of her own exciting adventures. She could now shapeshift at will but only into tyger form or felis sapien. And just today she had journeyed to a nearby infirmary with Ciar, where she had practiced healing minor injuries with major success.

  Doppelganger thought of Dymphna, downed his mead, and ordered another. He took Dangalf’s pipe and puffed on it, which was unusual for him.

  An elf dressed in hunters’ buckskin entered the inn and greeted his party. Before he sat, he recognized Ashlyn and approached her. Doppelganger bristled that he would approach a female sitting with him but waited to hear the elf’s words. “Ashlyn,” he bowed. “My good fortune to see you two nights in a row.”

  “Hello, Fionn,” she smiled.

  Fionn stood tall and confident with shoulder-length black hair. His paleness suggested he did not hunt during the day. Dangalf wondered if he aspired to the Horns of Cernunnos, an elven-only force of rangers that operated almost exclusively at night. He was strong, but more ectomorphic than Doppelganger. He wore a large hunting knife at the front of his belt in what Dangalf found to be a sexually vulgar manner.

  “Fionn has just begun his pathfinder training,” said Ashlyn by way of introduction. “These are my friends, Dangalf, Doppelganger, and the rest.”

  “Pathfinder,” said Doppelganger. “That makes you a second-class ranger?”

  “Third class,” corrected Dangalf. “Just like us. He won’t be second class until he completes his training.”

  “Your gray friend is correct,” said Fionn. Gray friend! thought Dangalf as he absently stroked his beard. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” continued Fionn. “But I have spoken to my trainer, and he has permitted you to heal for me during my warg hunt. Provided it is allowed by your trainer.”

  “She said it was cool.”

  “More of your foreign tongue,” laughed Fionn.

  “She said it was fine,” said Ashlyn. Was she blushing, she wondered? Conversing with Fionn had been much easier yesterday without her friends watching her.

  “So charming. Very good then. I shall leave you to your friends until a time when we may speak alone.”

  “Good night,” said Ashlyn smiling. Fionn bowed to Ashlyn and nodded to her companions before departing.

  “A new friend?” asked Dangalf.

  “He and I were the last ones when the tavern closed last night,” said Ashlyn.

  “You came here alone,” said Dangalf.

  “He will need to kill a warg to complete his training, and those are usually found in Legion territory. He’s allowed to bring a healer, and that would also fulfill one of my own requirements.”

  “Sounds dangerous,” said Doppelganger jealously.

  “You two gonna sleep in the woods together?” asked Nerdraaage with a mischievous grin.

  “We will be in the woods, and I suspect sleeping will take place at some point,” she said.

  “Boy, is he in for a big surprise,” said Nerdraaage.

  “Why?” said Ashlyn.

  “I’m just saying, looks can be deceiving,” said Nerdraaage.

  “What do you mean?” she pressed.

  “Everybody calm down,” said Dangalf.

  “I just think that it might be kind of embarrassing. I mean, what happens if you two share the same tent and you need to cuddle together because it’s so cold. I mean, he thinks he’s cuddling up to Liv Tyler and all of a sudden he finds Orlando’s bloom.”

  “What the fuck!” said Ashlyn as she stood angrily. She raised a fist, and it was a cute little fist, but not at all suitable for hurting a dwarf. Her outrage only made Nerdraaage laugh harder. “In case you haven’t noticed,” she continued. “I’m she-elf all over. And if anyone should know that, it should be you, you little peeping pervert.”

  “I was just practicing my unappear!”

  “I’m sorry you’re an ugly little dwarf, but don’t take it out on me.” Ashl
yn’s sincere outrage only made Nerdraaage laugh harder. He enjoyed this moment. In one fell swoop, he had avenged all of Elftrap’s previous cruelty, and it felt good. As Ashlyn looked at the laughing dwarf, she was suddenly overcome. She squeezed her eyes tight, but it was too late. A flood of tears streamed down her face. She walked away but only got as far as Fionn, who stopped her. She shielded her face from him as he spoke to her.

  Dangalf stood up angrily and scolded Nerdraaage. “Now look what you did!”

  “What?” said Nerdraaage. “She’s always calling me short and ugly and stupid.”

  “And smelly,” added Doppelganger.

  “And smelly,” said Nerdraaage, laughing harder.

  Ashlyn left the inn, and Fionn started to follow her, but Dangalf intercepted him. “Sit your ass back down!” he commanded Fionn.

  Dangalf found Ashlyn in the room. She could have gone elsewhere, but she had hoped someone would pursue her and she wanted to be found. Now, she lay face down on her bed and told Dangalf to go away but not wanting him to go away. He sat on her bed and studied her fine elven form from the back. She truly was all she-elf, and he wanted her more than anything. Nerdraaage had been right. Dangalf would chug her bathwater.

  Dangalf said words that he thought would comfort her, and she allowed herself to be coaxed into turning over, though she kept a forearm across her face to shield her crying eyes. He asked her to take her arm from her face, and she protested about how ugly she was. He persisted, and she removed her arm but turned her eyes away so as not to look at him. He took the liberty of touching her face to turn it toward him. Her face was warm and lightly streaked with tears. She looked up at him with moist eyes, and he had to swallow his plum again. She told him her eyes must be all red from crying.

  “Your nose too,” he added.

  More tears came, and she tried to turn away from him, but he stopped her. He told her about how beautiful she was, and she stopped struggling and turned back to him. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, could even imagine, and her crying did nothing to diminish that. She hugged him close and cried and shuddered against him. He imagined her shuddering would feel like that also if she were to climax.

  She was a she-elf, a female, she insisted. In body, in brain, in temperament, in any other aspect. Dangalf said he had known that all along as he luxuriated in the heat of her body against his.

  Dangalf imagined how they would make love: She would tell him that she was completely female and offer to prove it to him. He would say it was not necessary, but it was too late as she stripped out of her furkini. She would insist that he look at her and he would run his eyes up and down her hairless, lithe body. They would hug more and begin kissing passionately. She would lie back on the bed and tell him to make love to her. And he would oblige. He was not an otherworld virgin like Nerdraaage, but it had been a long time nonetheless. And he had never had anything close to Ashlyn.

  While Ashlyn tearfully poured her heart out to him, Dangalf ran the scenario of him and her making love through his mind over and over. The fantasies varied slightly, but all revolved around the idea of her commanding him to make love to her and his ultimate compliance to preserve their friendship.

  He hugged and reassured her for hours before Doppelganger and Nerdraaage noisily returned. (They did not want to catch Dangalf and Ashlyn in flagrante.) Dangalf rose and was standing by Ashlyn’s bed when they entered. Nerdraaage shuffled over to Ashlyn’s bed. “Ashlyn, I just wanted to say…” And suddenly Ashlyn sprung from her bed and planted a big kiss on the side of the dwarf’s face, which made him groan and wipe his face. “I thought you said I had to apologize!” Nerdraaage shouted at Doppelganger, who shrugged in response.

  Ashlyn sat back on her bed, laughing but with tears still streaming down her face. All these males had caused so many confusing thoughts and feelings for her, but it was Nerdraaage who was finally the catalyst. He made her cry. And it had been a very therapeutic cry. She had given up the last vestiges of her former self. There would be no more shame or doubt or hesitation. She was a she-elf now. She had always been a she-elf.

  For his part, Dangalf thought he had laid down a solid foundation for what would soon be his and Ashlyn’s white-hot lovemaking. But in The Great Book of Unhappenings, that secret and magical journal that follows each life, it was recorded this night that, with the slightest masculine assertiveness, Dangalf would have made love to his beloved Ashlyn. But he did not, and he never would.

  LXXI

  The next morning they ate breakfast at their usual table. They were unusually quiet even for an early-morning occasion after a night of smoking and drinking. A pigeon fluttered down next to Ashlyn. She took the note and fed the bird some seeds. “It’s from Fionn,” she said. “He has to postpone his warg hunt. He does not need me at this time. We’re staying in the same inn, and he sends me a message by bird.” This news would have shaken Ashlyn’s fragile ego only a day ago. But she had been reborn again in a baptism of feminine emotion. “I must have made a real ass of myself last night,” she laughed.

  “It didn’t help when Dangalf told Fionn to sit his ass down,” said Nerdraaage.

  Ashlyn glowered at Dangalf, who didn’t look back as he attempted to conceal his satisfaction that Fionn was out of the picture.

  “Now I know why elves hang with elves,” she said.

  “And dwarves with dwarves,” said Nerdraaage. When neither of the humans spoke up, Nerdraaage turned to Doppelganger and said, “You’re supposed to say, ‘That’s why humans hang with humans.’”

  “Why?” said Doppelganger. “I didn’t make an ass of myself.”

  An elf wearing the tabard of the elven royal family entered and spoke to the innkeeper, who pointed to the Keepers’ table. “Now what?” said Nerdraaage.

  The elf approached them with a large rucksack. “I am a courier to the House of Oira. I bring word of His Majesty’s gratitude for your service to his ninth daughter. And I bear gifts chosen by the princess herself.” He removed four packages, read the names on the packages, and presented them. “Farewell,” he said, bowing before he departed.

  “Were we supposed to tip him?” asked Dangalf.

  Nerdraaage had not received many gifts in his previous life and tore into his without delay or ceremony. Inside the wrapping was an ornate box and inside that a more ornate smoking pipe.

  “Nice,” said Dangalf.

  “Nice?” said Nerdraaage. “Do you know what this is?”

  “A pipe?”

  “This is a garrote pipe,” said Nerdraaage. He snapped the pipe stem from the bowl, and a wire uncoiled between the two pieces. “Icil taught me about these during my weapons training, but I never imagined I would have my own.” On closer examination he read a marking. “Rumpelstilzchen! That’s the best goblin weapons maker there is! The princess must have gone to a border town for this.”

  “I don’t think the princess was tramping around a border town,” said Ashlyn.

  “It’s a working pipe, too,” continued Nerdraaage. Dangalf marveled at the craftsmanship and was reminded that the foul goblins were renowned also for their Blue School. The dwarves inadvertently paid tribute to them in their boast that the goblins build toys and the dwarves build monuments. But what toys the goblins did build!

  “What are you waiting for?” asked Nerdraaage. “Who’s next?”

  Ashlyn looked at Dangalf excitedly. “Go ahead,” he said.

  Ashlyn opened her box and took out a white bone-like dagger. She marveled at it before looking at the enclosed scroll for confirmation. “A dagger,” said Nerdraaage. “You said you can’t use daggers.”

  “This is a kraken tooth,” said Ashlyn. “It’s what druids call ‘of the flesh.’ Bones, teeth, leather—they’re all ‘of the flesh’ and will stay with a druid even during metamorphosis.”

  Nerdraaage took it from her and cut his hand in the process. “Damn, it’s sharp.”

  “Haven’t you ever handled a kraken tooth before?” sco
lded Dangalf.

  Ashlyn removed the leather scabbard from the box and wrapped it around her thigh. She slipped the dagger into the scabbard and proffered her leg to the other Keepers. “Isn’t this gorgeous?”

  “Yes, it is,” said Dangalf dreamily.

  “I shouldn’t have this yet. It’s too good.”

  “Same with my pipe.”

  “Open yours,” she told Dangalf.

  Dangalf opened his box and took out a heavy, folded garment. “I think this is,” he started. He looked at the label to be sure. “Emperor’s New Clothes LTD Vinland. It is. It’s a flying cloak.”

  “No way,” said Nerdraaage, fearing that his own gift was diminishing. “Just like in the game.” Dangalf slipped into the cloak, which was entirely too nice for the rest of his wardrobe. He fastened some leather straps. “So you can fly now?” asked Nerdraaage.

  “If by flying you mean like a flying squirrel,” said Dangalf. “This is made just for a wizard. A wand pocket. A staff strap. Now I need to buy a staff.”

  “Jump off the balcony,” suggested Nerdraaage.

  “I don’t know,” said Ashlyn. “Emperor’s New Clothes? It’s like they’re telling you it won’t work. Like they’re in on the joke.”

  “It works in the game,” said Nerdraaage.

  “I don’t think Dymphna would buy me a phony flying cloak,” Dangalf asserted weakly. He looked at the ground far below. Jumping did not appeal to him even in his luxurious flying cloak. He read the scroll he found in a pocket.

  “That’s the whole point of the story about the emperor’s new clothes,” said Ashlyn. “No one dared acknowledge the fraud.”

 

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