The Pixie's Child

by J. Edward Stamper

  The pixie, caught off-guard by the large creature’s surprising speed, dove away, leaving the needle embedded in the beast’s neck. The creature uttered a high-pitched howl as it struck the needle with its hand, driving it deeper into the flesh.

  Bramble tumbled off-balance through the air toward the ground, his wings beating furiously. He hit the forest floor and lay there stunned. The ground shook as the ettin, screaming in rage and pain, danced from foot to foot, clawing at the needle stuck deep into its neck. Bramble regained his wits just in time to roll away from a crushing footfall.

  “Oi!” screamed the uninjured head. “What in blazes you doin’?” The crashing feet ceased. “Quit yer thrashin’ and prancin’ or you’ll squash it!”

  The left head moaned and whined as it dug at the back of its neck. “Bugger you, you rotten-mouthed oaf!” it shouted. Finally, it extracted the needle and held it up. Droplets of blood dripped down the silver shaft. “Look a’ this,” it said as it held it in front of the other face.

  “Eh?” said the right head. “Where in the—ooo!” The sentence was cut short and replaced with a long and loud howl as Bramble drove a needle into the top of the ettin’s right foot.

  The creature kicked reflexively, sending the pixie tumbling through the air yet again. He landed on his belly amid a thick twist of vines and forest weeds. Though he wasn’t injured, he was quite dizzy and pretty well stuck in the intertwining greenery. He pulled and struggled and thrashed, but it did him no good.

  The ettin bent over, picked the needle from its foot, and flicked it into the undergrowth. It walked over to the trapped pixie and plucked him out of the weeds by his slender wings. Pain exploded in Bramble’s back as the ettin lifted him. The pixie squirmed and wriggled, but each movement sent a host of fresh new pains.

  The creature held Bramble level with its faces. “Well, what do we ‘ave ‘ere?” its right head asked. As it spoke, a blast of hot, rancid breath nearly overwhelmed Bramble and made his stomach churn.

  “Looks like a wee fairy man to me,” said the left head. Its hand still rubbed at the back of its neck. “Puttin’ ‘is needles where they doesn’t belong.”

  “I’m...a...pixie,” said Bramble, gritting his teeth and speaking through the pain in short bursts. “Not...a...fairy...you ugly...lug.”

  The ettin’s right head laughed a deep, grainy laugh and jostled its hand up and down, sending excruciating pain through Bramble’s body with each jerk. “A mouthy little one, too,” it said, grinning with a mouthful of crooked and rotten teeth. “Needs to learn some manners, this one. Isn’t polite to be runnin’ ‘round and pokin’ innocent folk with ‘is little needles.”

  “You’re...hardly...innocent,” Bramble managed to squeak out.

  “What?” asked the right head. “Are you meanin’ this?” The monster nudged the burlap sack with its toe, setting the child inside to squalling again. “We is doing this wee one a favor, is all. Lost his mum. Tragic thing. So we is just bringin’ ‘im to a new fambly.”

  The left head giggled again. “Let’s rip its wings off and munch it,” it said, licking its lips. “Bones and all.”

  “I say crunch ‘im wings and all,” said the other head.

  “Might be some magic in them wings,” said the left head. “Might be good for savin’ up.”

  “I’ve gots it! Two wings,” said the right head. “One for eatin’ and one for savin’.”

  The left head laughed. “You was always the biggest brains,” it said.

  At this, the creature dropped the club and grasped Bramble’s other wing. The pixie closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, ready for the horrible pain to arrive.

  But the pain didn’t come. Around them, the air was rife with a sudden loud buzzing as thousands of bees poured out from between the trees. The ettin dropped Bramble as the insects swarmed the creature’s heads. The beast’s roars were choked away as bees filled their open mouths, stinging the softness within them.

  The creature spat and swatted wildly, panicked by the pain of hundreds of burning stings. Bramble punched the air and cheered. “Hooray!” he shouted.

  With a crash that jolted the ground, the ettin fell backwards. It thrashed and rolled, littering the ground around it with the crushed bodies of bees. Bramble gasped and scrambled for his flute. He played a short burst of notes, and the bees began to gather above the fallen creature in a dark cloud. The pixie waved as the swarm, much smaller than it had been, drifted back into the trees.

  The ettin moaned and groaned on the ground. Its two faces were a mess of swollen stings, and three of its four eyes were swollen shut. Bramble drew his last needle, charged forward, and jammed it into the bottom of the ettin’s foot. The creature yelped and pulled its foot away from the new pain.

  The ettin rolled onto its side and rose up on an elbow. It groaned and whined almost pitifully as it made its way back to its feet. It ran into the forest, leaving Bramble and the child behind. The crashing footsteps receded for a moment, then there was a tremendous crash. Silence then descended over the forest.

  The bee’s venom and frog’s poison had done their work.

  Bramble tore at the cords binding the burlap sack. The binds were tight, and his small fingers ached by the time he was able to loosen them. He pulled the sack open to reveal a pair of beautiful deep blue eyes.

  Bramble smiled at the child. “Now what are we going to do with you?”