“It isn’t round if it doesn’t even exist yet.”
“Of course it is,” said I. “Even imaginary circles are round.”
“All right. I confess that I am lost,” said Jholeira. “But she is the Queen of Aerithraine, is she not?”
“Yes,” I said, turning to Jholeira. “And how exactly did you deduce this?”
“Her last name is Cyrene, which is an old elvish word for queen, as I think I once told you. And her first name is Ellwood, which is the masculine version of the name Elleena, just like Jholeira is the feminine version of the name Jholhard.”
“You’re not trying to tell me you are a man, are you?” I asked.
“No, of course not.”
“Good. Because I hate that.”
Suddenly I was hit on the head again by the flat of Elleena’s sword.
“I ask you again, who is this pointy-eared strumpet?”
“Ow!” said I. “You should remember Jholiera, the elven princess from the world-famous story: Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Eleven Princess.”
“Just what are you doing attacking Eaglethorpe?” demanded Jholeira. “You cannot be jealous. If he was your man, would you not be in this bed with him? And didn’t I just hear him say that you had a pregnant wife? What’s that all about?”
There really wasn’t much that Elleena could say in reply, so she did just what one might expect her to do in these types of situations. She smacked Jholeira on the top of the head with the flat of her sword. Then casting aside her sword, which went clattering across the floor, she jumped down to the side of the bed. Grabbing me by the shirt with one hand and the hair with the other, she pulled me out of bed and across the room. Jholeira climbed to her feet.
“OMG, Eaglethorpe!” cried Elleena, taking another tack. “How could you? She’s practically a child.”
I glanced back to see that the elven princess was indeed slight of form, which is to say she was small and slender and many other words which mean small and slender but that I could not think of at the moment because she was also naked.
“She’s 572 years old,” I replied.
“I’m eighty-five,” said Jholeira, striking a fetching pose. “A young adult, in the lifespan of my people, and much more attractive to a virile man like Eaglethorpe than an old warhorse.”
Elleena threw her a rude gesture.
“You don’t even like older women, Eaglethorpe.”
“I have no problem with older women. Why there was my Sunday school teacher Mrs. Linkwittle. She would wear these calico dresses that showed off her… um, Just what is the matter?” I pulled Elleena’s hands from me and stood up straight.
“I’m angry.”
“No. What is the matter that brought you into my room in the first place?”
“Look out the window.” She pointed toward the sky. “What do you see?”
“I am guessing that you mean, besides the sky? I see clouds and ooh, look, a screech owl. It looks so lonely up there in the winter sky.”
“What do you see in the sky just above the horizon?”
“It is the moon,” said I. “I know that it seems odd, but sometimes the moon is out in the daytime. In fact, it is not all that unusual. It is far more unusual to see the sun at night, but twice I was fortunate enough to see just such a sight—once when I was traveling in the cold, frozen land of the Skagarack and once in Theen, when I was hit on the head with a shovel four times in one day.”
“It is a full moon,” said Elleena. “The moon didn’t come up until almost morning, and it has been up all day, while I slept and you whored around. The werewolf is not out in at night. This month, the werewolf is abroad in the broad daylight!”
“Wouldn’t that make it a reverse werewolf?” I wondered.
“No,” replied Elleena. “A reverse werewolf would be a wolf that turns into a man.”
“No,” said Jholeira. “That would be a wolfwere. A wolfwere is a wolf which turns into a man under the full moon. A reverse werewolf would be a werewolf who is a wolf all month long and only not a werewolf when the moon is full.”
“If that were true,” said I. “Then both a wolfwere and a reverse werewolf would be wolves all month long, but turn into men during the full moon. Wouldn’t that make them the same thing?”
“No,” said Jholeira. “But it would make them hard to tell apart.”
“Shut up both of you,” demanded Elleena. “The moon is going down and will not be back up until almost tomorrow morning. We have one more chance to track down the beast before the full moon is gone for the month.”
“Great,” said I. “Then I need to get some sleep. If you will kindly leave, I shall climb back into bed.”
“I’m not leaving you here to rut with her, you pig,” said Elleena. “I’ll sleep here with her and you will go sleep in my room.”
“Oh no,” said I. “You already got one girl pregnant.”
“Never mind,” said the elven princess. We turned to find her dressing. “I shall rent my own room. I shall see you this evening, Master Buxton, and you shall see much more of me.”
“Over my heavily armed body,” muttered Elleena, as she retrieved her sword.
When both had left, I was able to climb back between the sheets and close my eyes once again. Perhaps somewhere in the dreamy realms, the monkey princess was still waiting for me.
Chapter Eleven: Wherein I find myself again the object of feminine desire.
When I woke, it was already dark outside. I didn’t hurry though. What was the point? The moon, dreaded and loved by the fearsome werewolf, wouldn’t be up for hours. I dressed and put on my armor. I have not been much for wearing armor. It is heavy and it gets hot in the summer and is very cold in the winter. I wore it during the Great Goblin Wars of course, when I fought in the company of Her Majesty’s Army, because it is quite useful at stopping goblin arrows. I hoped that it would be just as useful at stopping the fangs of a werewolf.
Downstairs, I was surprised to find Elleena and Jholeira sitting at a table together, the former dressed in her armor and the latter wearing a fetching elven gown. They both looked up at me when I took the empty chair for my own, and with the exception of a rather ugly knot atop the elven princess’s forehead, they both looked fine. They both had empty dishes before them.
“What is the supper tonight?” I asked.
“We both had mutton stew,” said Jholeira.
“But I ordered you a lovely breast of chicken dinner,” said Elleena. “I told the girl to bring you their finest breast, and not to be stingy with the onions.”
Jholeira frowned in that cute way that I like so much.
“That was very nice of you,” she said, in a voice that seemed like she meant that it wasn’t really nice at all. Then she smiled at me. “Be sure that you save room though, I ordered them to save you an entire crabapple pie.”
“Well, how nice,” said Elleena, crinkling her nose in that cute way that I like so much.
“Nice?” I wondered. “I was under the impression that you thought I was getting fat?”
“Not fat, exactly,” said Elleena. “I just want you at your best fighting weight.”
“I think you look perfect,” said Jholeira. “If anything, you are a little on the skinny side, but it is nothing that a few dozen pies would not fix.”
“A man cannot live on pie alone,” said Elleena.
“That shows what you know,” said the princess. “A crabapple pie could be a fine supper. In fact, there are countries where the most common part of a supper is crabapple pie.”
“There are places in the world where pies are worshiped as gods,” quoth the queen. “But that does not mean a man should not enjoy a lovely breast of chicken dinner first.”
“You both make good points,” said I, ever the peacemaker.
Elleena snapped her fingers and a serving wench brought out my chicken breast with onions. It was so lovely that I almost didn’t notice the serving wench at all, until she bent over the table and gave m
e an extra long look at her charms. It was neither Immanent nor Eventually, but some other girl that I had heretofore not met. She had medium length candy-apple hair, cherry lips, and though all the buttons of her blouse were fastened, it didn’t matter as her breasts were so large they threatened to explode out at any moment. I am sure her poor buttons were nowhere near as happy about the situation as I was, but then, nobody likes to live under that amount of stress.
“What?” I asked, when I turned around to find my two companions glaring at me.
They just continued to glare for a moment, but at last Elleena spoke.
“We have decided to wait until after the whole affair with the werewolf to sort all of this out.”
“Sort all of what out?”
“The young princess here wants you, though I confess I am finding it harder and harder to empathize with her on the subject.”
“Oh, women are always wanting me,” I assured them. “There was this beautiful elven princess that was quite in love with me.”
“That was me,” said Jholeira.
“Then there was the Queen of Aerithraine.”
“That was me,” said Elleena.
“Then there was a beautiful but mysterious sorceress.”
“She wanted to kill you,” said Elleena.
“There was the monkey princess.”
“There is no such thing as a monkey princess,” said Jholeira.
“Then of course, there was the Queen of the Amazons.”
“That was me too,” said Elleena.
“You’re the Queen of the Amazons?” wondered Jholeira.
Elleena shrugged.
“Then there was the princess of the sky people.”
“She was seven,” said Elleena.
“There was a lovely actress in Lyrria.”
“You said she was engaged.”
“And a lovely piesmith named Harmonica.”
“Her name was Accordia,” said Elleena. “And she’s a whore.”
“Don’t forget Miriam.”
“Another whore.”
“Who is Miriam,” wondered Jholeira.
“She is Queen Elleena of Aerithraine,” said I. “Just not the same one.”
“Oh,” she said.
“And of course the lovely serving wench Immanent.”
“That wasn’t even you. That was an Eaglethorpe Buxton impersonator,” said Elleena.
“You have to admit that she wanted Eaglethorpe Buxton,” I pointed out. “It’s not my fault she thought the wrong man was me.”
“Shut up and eat,” said Elleena.
“You see how she talks to me?” I asked Jholeira.
“Shut up and eat,” she said.
I did as directed and it was as lovely a breast as I had ever had in Brest, and though you are more likely to find mutton or beef stew in Brest, for they really are known for their mutton and beef stew, you cannot deny that the best Brest breasts truly are the best breasts anywhere. This one was perfectly seasoned with salt and pepper, which of course are completely necessary to get a delicious breast. It was also seasoned with rosemary, which while not strictly necessary, does show dedication to the culinary arts.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Jholeira.
“Breasts,” I replied.
“You are right,” she told Elleena. “Men are pigs.”
“Lord Dewberry! Lord Dewberry!”
I turned to find the serving wench, Immanent, rushing toward me in the sort of waddling motion that women swollen with child have in common with certain waterfowl.
“What is it, my dear?” I asked.
“It’s my sister! Eventually is missing!”
“Then I will look for her when that eventually occurs,” said I.
“No. My sister, Eventually.”
“Your sister eventually will what?”
“My sister Eventually is missing!”
“It may not be my place to say anything,” said Elleena. “But we saw your sister out with a man last night.”
“Eventually is always out with a man,” replied Immanent. “But she always arrives for work eventually, and she has missed her evening shift and the late one as well. I haven’t seen her in almost twenty-four hours. Eventually could be dead!”
“My dear,” said I. “Eventually we will all be dead.”
“No, my sister Eventually.”
“Oh right. I know just where to start looking for her,” said I, looking knowingly at Elleena.
“Come on,” she said, getting to her feet.
“I shall see you upon my return.” I kissed Jholeira on the cheek. “Save me some of that pie.”
Then Elleena and I were out the door.
Chapter Twelve: Wherein we hope to find Eventually, but eventually discover the werewolf instead.
Stopping only long enough to light Elleena’s lantern, we quickly crossed between the houses and outbuildings of the town and set off across the empty field toward the farm where we had previously seen Eventually. Like the night before, there was lantern light escaping from between the cracks in the walls and the shuttered windows of the farmhouse. Unlike the night before, there were no sounds of merriment coming from inside.
“Do you suppose that she’s still here?” I whispered. “Or do you suppose that he’s killed and eaten her?”
Elleena shrugged.
I signaled that she should move around to the right and that I would move around to the left. That way we could meet at the front door, which was on the side facing away from us. I didn’t expect that there would be a second door in such a small structure, but if there was, we would notice it as we circumnavigated the house. I reached the front faster, but was only waiting by the door a few seconds before my companion joined me. She counted off on her fingers: three… two… one. Then we both kicked open the door, sending splinters flying across the room.
The man I had seen the night before was the only occupant of the single-roomed dwelling and though I had not gotten a very good look at him through the crack in the wall, I carefully observed him now. He was an inch taller than me, as he demonstrated when he jumped to his feet, and that is fairly tall, for I am not considered short. As might be expected from a farmer, he was muscular, with bulging arms and a broad chest. He also had strong legs, which he demonstrated by making a mighty leap, crashing through the shuttered window and out into the night.
“After him!” I shouted, making a similar leap. Unfortunately, although my head made it outside, the rest of me didn’t, as my shoulders, much broader than normal because of my armor, wouldn’t fit through the window. I crashed to the floor, smashing my chin on the window sill, causing me to bite my tongue.
“Come on!” urged Elleena, helping me to my feet.
We ran out the door, and around the corner of the house.
“He went this way!”
Though there was little light out, there was just enough illumination pouring through the shattered window to indicate a path through the dirt and into the now fallow field beyond. We had not run fifty feet, when the yellow orb of the full moon peeked its face above the rolling wooded hills, spilling a light just shy of morning over everything.
“There he is!” shouted Elleena, rushing forth with her usual fervor. I followed right behind.
Then suddenly, the figure bathed in moonlight ahead of us, arched his back and screamed. Elleena stopped so quickly that I nearly ran into her. There we stood in the middle of that field, bearing witness to one of the most grotesque spectacles ever given witness by man. Or by woman. The farmer’s form shifted and twisted, accompanied by ripping and tearing sounds, and moments later we stood facing not a man at all, and not a wolf neither, but an unholy combination of the two. The grotesque beast turned toward us.
“Come on!” growled Elleena, though I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or the werewolf.
The werewolf seemed to have no problem deciding that her words were intended for him. With a sudden rush, he shot back toward us, running first o
n all fours and then rising to move like a man and then back to all fours again. When he was still thirty feet away, he launched himself forward and crashed into first Elleena and then me, and we all went tumbling across the ground. The two of us stabbed with our swords and the snarling beast clawed and snapped at us with its mighty jaws.
Then suddenly it was gone. It had turned and run, and so quick was its movement that it seemed as if it had dematerialized into the stuff of the very air.
It took a moment for me to take stock of my position. I was lying on my back, panting heavily, my body filled with adrenaline. My heart was beating so loudly that I could hear it in my ears, which now that I think about it is where I usually hear things, but usually they aren’t my heart.
Elleena leaned over me. Extending from one cheek, across her nose, to the other cheek, a series of ragged claw marks leaked out bright red blood. It ran down over her perfect lips and onto her chin and neck.
“Oh no,” said I. “The werewolf got you! Now you’re going to be a werewolf too!”
Chapter Thirteen: Wherein we discuss the finer points of lycanthropy and track the werewolf.
“If that were the case,” said Elleena, extending a hand to help me up, “then you would be in more danger than me.”
“More danger than I,” I corrected her.
“No,” she said. “In this case you are even more wrong than you usually are. You, who are supposed to be the world’s greatest writer and hence the world’s most skilled grammarian, are wrong about the use of the personal pronoun. In the sentence ‘If that were the case, then you would be in more danger than me,’ ‘you’ is the subject and not me. ‘Me’ only becomes ‘I’ when it is used as the subject of a sentence or at least when it is the first personal pronoun of the sentence. You, who are also supposed to be the world’s leading authority on werewolves, are also wrong in assuming I will become a werewolf. Werewolf bites are almost always contagious because the disease of lycanthropy is passed through saliva, where as claws are seldom contagious because there is only a small chance of bodily fluids being exchanged.”
Many Adventures of Eaglethorpe Buxton Page 28
