Elf Killers

by Phipps, Carol Marrs

  "Boof!" cried her eldest son, as he spat out a great cud of chewed Elf onto the ground. "Gnydy hee-hee-grabbed my grab-up-squeaker rump. Every time, I get shin-bone-meat. I eat rump."

  "You think like rump," said his younger brother. "You snuff-snuff like rump..."

  "Gnydy juicy-champs my rump, Da, and you let him," said the eldest, as two wolf-dogs squeezed in to bristle at each other and snatch up his cud of Elf. "You be easy-let, Da. Gnydy will head-smash you, then he'll be Thunder-man. And if Gnydy be Thunder-man, then I'll no be Thunder-man. I'll be hoo-hoo-crawl-animal." He turned to the younger. "But you'd be hum-dee-dumdle with that, Fnana-fnyr. You already be crawl-animal for yuck-champs. Poofy-letter Da grand-showed you..."

  "Rump-jaws, Fnanar!" roared Fnana-fnyr as he shot to his feet to run at Fnanar's head with a furious kick.

  Fnanar ducked as the kick flew by his ear, flinging Fnana-fnyr onto his back, the arm of Elf he was eating smeared all up one hip.

  Dyr stopped chewing and glowered at his sons from under his bony brows.

  "Ooot-ooot! ooot-ooot! ooot-ooot!" cried Fnanar as he flailed his chest with his fists. "That be proud-show rump-trick." He wheeled 'round to leave the alcove and stepped right into Dyr's stony fist which put him flat on his back, seeing stars.

  Dyr was a-straddle him immediately, furiously strangling him.

  "Duda! Nyr-vyr-nirr-trad!" screamed Fnarry-irrny, ropes of beads and greasy breasts flying about as she sprang at Dyr to claw at his gnarly hateful fingers. "No! Stop!"

  "He's begged for-this ever-since he wet-held Fnana-fnyr under the fast-water," he said, growling spit between his teeth as he gave an extra shove and stood up. He tramped out of the Hooter Cave and past the glowing fires.

  Dyr paused to glance at some kids who were poking sticks and giggling at an Elf child who was well beyond utterances of any kind, tethered and trembling uncontrollably as she awaited her turn over the coals. "No be Fnanar and Fnana-fnyr," he sighed. "Never-once have Fnanar and Fnana-fnyr giggle-romped that well-together. I can't even hunt with them-together."

  He shook his head and walked out under the stars. A shivering owl called. "One-thing I know-be with all head-nod," he said. "Fnanar has-had his last greedy-champ in the Hooter Cave. Let him yank-bite squeaker-rump from Gnydy. He got his hairy-face new-name cold-time, cold-time, cold-time, cold-time ago.

  "But I have-to slip-let Fnarry-irrny pincher-twist me so Fnanar gets-to stay until he's giggle-grabbed a sow. But he grabby-wants the biggest milk sow. Mudful hollow-head. He drool-dreams the wrong end. Hoof! He has sly-kids in every-other cave but the Hooter Cave and diggy-fingers his nose at me.

  "Ooot!" he bellowed into the echoes, silencing the owl. He gave his chest a good three thump drum. "And let Gnydy come at me for a good head-smash. He needs his thunder-stamp, too."

  The party of young Elves broke out in gasps of awe at the sudden sight of stars overhead as the Fire Sprites led them out of the last tunnel to the edge of a great lake in the crater of Mount Sliabh.

  "Alvina!" cried Olloo as he looked all around him. "Have we gotten to the east side?"

  "Not yet," she thought in everyone's head. "This is Lake Na Gealai. Its water washes our tubes. It has no bottom. This is where all of Mount Sliabh's fire and stone once came from."

  She led them for a long way over barren ropes of rock like frozen taffy, around the edge of the lake until at last they came to a small brushy hollow, wooded with small cottonwood trees whose leaves rattled like raindrops, though the breeze scarcely rippled the waters of the lake. There they found a great knotted rope of rock, where they laid out Mian and Aland on a deep bed of sticks and set them alight. Before the fire died down, she had them moving once more, following the lake's edge again until at last she led them through a cleft in the crater's rim, out onto the east slope. "Below you is the Eastern Maidenhair Woods which runs down to the foot of Mount Sliabh. From there on is the Great Strah," she thought to everyone.

  "It certainly looks peaceful enough," said Olloo, staring out over the woods to the dark ocean of grass which stretched clean to the horizon under the vault of stars to meet the great orange moon, just rising. "So the strike falcons just stay in the grass, do they?"

  "No," thought Radella. "They stay and hunt in the grass for the most part, but we've seen them chase game far into the woods and up the slopes."

  "Well now," said Oisin as he put his hat between his knees to tie back his hair, "I think I've heard the old-timers say that the shawkyn spooghey only hunt in the daytime. Is that right?"

  "Yes," thought Radella, "but they stir at the very first light and they seem to be on their feet at the slightest disturbance. The speech of children carries a very long way."

  "That sounds like we need to find some sort of shelter before the sun rises," said Oisin.

  "Yea?" said Doona, "but what do we do about the Elf Killers between now and then?"

  "Radella says that the trolls don't come onto this side of the mountains because of the strike falcons," said Olloo.

  A great grey owl wailed in the timber below. Kieran wound up and threw a piece of pumice out over the trees. He picked up another piece. Olloo saw Oisin watching him.

  "Hey Oisin?" he said, quietly. "You could just tell Doona how you feel, don't you know."

  "Now? Wouldn't this be bad timing?"

  Olloo shrugged. "I doubt if I know anything about it. I'm just a kid. I've never had a sweetheart or anything, but how are either of you ever going to know unless one of you starts talking? Kieran's been doing all the talking, lately. You might not want to wait. Oh, forget it. I don't reckon I know what I'm talking about anyway. I'm too young for a sweetheart."

  "Yea? Or maybe you know exactly what you're talking about. I've not had a sweetheart either, truth to tell. Anyway, we'd better get everyone moving."

  As Olloo nodded and began passing the word, Oisin turned to Radella, Alvina and the other Sprites. "We're grateful for everything you've done," he said. "But I sure wish you could come with us." And as he and the others turned away, the sweet and sorrowful farewells of the Fire Sprites filled their hearts.

  "Oh you're serious, are you?" said Verona, with an expression impossible to make out in the wavering lamplight.

  "Well yes and no..." said Jamys. "On the one hand we ought to be protecting you, your being a lady and an elder. And on the other, you seem to really know what you're doing in here..."

  "And what gives ye the idea I don't know what I'm doing other places, Jamys?"

  "Merely the watching of you in other places," said Sigurd with a clap of his hands.

  "Which end are we addressing?" said Vorona. "If that came out his mouth, he needs to save his hooting for troll until he's armed and on his feet."

  "Have you ever been in here before?" said Edard.

  "Once when I was no more than a couple of hundred. I was tagging after my brother and his chums. And I can tell ye, it's a long way. We'll run out of lamp oil if we don't get moving."

  "So you mean you went all the way up?" said Jamys. "Ready at your end, Edard?"

  "Hup."

  "Clean up to the lake in the top of the mountain," she said as everyone got underway again. "We had help or we probably wouldn't have managed."

  "Help?" said Edard, "Who could possibly have helped you?"

  "Onora," said Brenden. "I need the light. It looks like we've got a choice of two ways already."

  "Fire Sprites," said Vorona.

  "Fire Sprites?" said Jamys as he and Edard set down Sigurd again. "I was never quite sure whether they were real. I only heard people like Amergin and Colm talk about them. So they led you ones through, did they?"

  "The question is, Vorona," said Brenden, "do you remember anything at all about the tunnel we're in? Do you have any idea which way to go here?"

  "I only remember the impression of being in a tunnel. My word. Do you have any idea how long ago that was? We went through here before Mount Sliabh's last bruchtadh, Sliabh's last blowing of burning rock. Even if
I managed to remember, I'd allow that it's all changed. Besides, why would I pay any attention when we were being led by the Fire Sprites? They'd put their thoughts straight into your heart instead of talking to you. And speaking of them, what I don't get is why we haven't seen them. There was a whole city of them in here. I remember their eerie choruses echoing through the tunnels..."

  "The molten rock probably got them," said Sigurd.

  "Oh, I doubt that..."

  "Well, what do we do here," said Brenden, "divide up and send parties down each tunnel?"

  "On one lamp?" said Vorona. "I thought that was the only light amongst us."

  "It is," said Onora.

  "Donachan and I were too little to be in on Vorona's adventure," came an echo out of the dark behind them. "He and I always talked about coming up here together. We'll take one of the tunnels if ye like..."

  "That is if ye trust Martyn and me with your lamp, Onora," said Donachan as he stepped into the light. Which way, Brenden?"

  "Your choice."

  Martyn and Donachan gave each other a nod and stepped through a crumbled wall into a neighboring tunnel.

  "We'll just be here in the dark a-telling troll stories," called out Vorona as their wavering orange light faded out step by step.

  "So are there any dangers we might run into in these tunnels?" said Brenden when they no longer heard their footsteps.

  "Trolls," said Vorona as everyone laughed quietly in the echoes.

  "We know about them," said Sigurd.

  "I'm glad you were awake," she said.

  "Well, what else?" said Edard.

  "Oh, nosewigs..."

  "That's earwigs, Vorona," said Sigurd with a snort. "They get in your ear."

  "And nosewigs get in your nose, Buttwig."

  Martyn and Donachan found themselves making their way along a smaller tunnel, quickly drowning out the voices of the others behind them with the crunching of their own footsteps.

  "This tunnel seems a lot drier than the other one," said Donachan, pausing to rake his toe in the gravel of cinders along its bottom.

  "Yea. And it's got a breeze a-coming down it. I have my hand in front of the lamp, but walk slower, would ye? I don't want this flame snuffed out..."

  "Stop for a moment. Do you hear water?"

  "Yea," said Martyn. "Sounds like a torrent, but it must be a long, long way off..." Suddenly a rock gave way from under his foot, setting him down smartly on the seat of his pants. "Damnu air!" he cried. There were no echoes.

  "What happened?"

  "Hey, stop! Stop! Stay behind me!"

  Donachan crept forward to find Martyn clutching his chest to calm his racing heart as his feet dangled into a black void.

  "I was scared to death that you were coming up behind me fast enough to go over the edge," he said, pulling his feet back onto solid ground.

  "Well, that's where the water is," said Donachan. "Must be a river down there. Any guess about how far down?"

  "I'm still dizzy just thinking about it. Let's go back and tell them that we've found the door straight to the Pit."

  When they returned to the party with tales of having been stopped by a deep chasm with a rushing underground river at the bottom, it was decided for Brenden and Jamys to search ahead in case that way was blocked as well, so that the others might be spared unnecessary walking. "Besides," said Verona, "it's you fellows' turn to get the next troll." And with that, they took the lamp and started out.

  The tunnel ran on for a very long way, much as the other one had, before Brenden saw the opening leading to the chasm. At last they saw that the tunnel ahead was collapsed. As they were about to go back, they saw a hole off to the side that was just big enough to crawl through. "Shall we see where it goes?" said Jamys.

  "You've got the lamp," said Brenden with a nod at the hole. "I reckon I could drag you back out by the ankles if you get stuck."

  Jamys started in on his elbows at once, mindful not to slop oil out of the lamp as he went. "Hey!" he cried. "It's another tunnel. It's about like the one we've been in, except it's got a little stream running down the middle of the floor."

  They walked for a long way without talking, pausing here and there to listen to the trickling water.

  "I think we could turn about any time, don't you?" said Jamys at last. "Now I never thought to ask them which way they thought the river ran, but no matter how it did, don't you think we'd have crossed it by now?"

  "Yea, you're probably right."

  "Besides, we should've had Onora fill this lamp before we set out..."

  "Hey, there's a light ahead and no mistake."

  Not knowing what they were in for, Brenden nocked an arrow and the two of them crept forward, keenly aware of the awkward position which the lamp might have them in if it gave them away. The greenish light grew brighter as they went, until at last, the tunnel opened into a broad cavern, planted with neat beds of glowing mushrooms. Brenden stooped to pick a mushroom to look at.

  "I sure wouldn't eat it," said Jamys as he looked all about.

  "Well, I actually hadn't thought about it yet," said Brenden as he sniffed it, "but why's that? Somebody's planted them."

  "For what? Food or poison?"

  "Oh," he said, dropping the mushroom and continuing to look about idly. "Hey, look down at your feet."

  Jamys stepped back and saw a blue satin ribbon lying on the mulch amongst the mushrooms. He snatched it up wide-eyed, nearly spilling the lamp. "Lilee’s ribbon," he cried. "Oh they must be alive." He held it tight in his fist and squeezed shut his eyes. "She was wearing this in her hair the last time I saw her, just before she left with Aedan and Olloo and the others."

  The company of young Elves made their way down from the cleft, clambering and stumbling over a great rumpled blanket of barren lava from Mount Sliabh's last eruption. It was not unduly difficult going except that it required going around and clambering over fold after fold of rock without letup, requiring that the eldest give endless piggyback rides to the youngest in order to make any sort of time at all. By the time they had reached the first trees beyond the lava flows, the moon had climbed well into the sky. A great grey owl wailed nearby to be answered by another, far away down in the timber.

  "These are blue maidenhair," thought Oisin as he paused for a moment to examine a tree in the dark. "We must still be pretty far up to run into these, in spite of the long trip down the rocks." He turned about at a tug on his tunic.

  "Oisin, are there going to be any more trolls in these woods?" said a very wide-eyed little girl.

  "Oh no, Feena," he said. "They're all 'way over on the other side of the mountains." He squatted, seeing that she needed a hug. "Hey scoot. If you get on, I'll give you a ride." He got to his feet with her, feeling very exhausted.

  "No trolls?" she said as he was getting into full stride.

  "No trolls...but you'll have to loosen up on my neck. I can't breathe."

  They made their way down into the sighing stands of pines and spruce before them, staying very close to one another, and except for an isolated word here and there, not talking at all as they padded along over the spongy carpets of pine needles and moss. Soon the quiet needles changed to a continual tramp and rustle through the previous years' leaves, as ponderous maidenhairs surrounded them, shutting out the moonlight.

  It was strangely quiet, though they seldom stopped to listen, and in spite of Oisin's reassurances now and again, the thought of trolls made each of them want to press on. The slope was much gentler here than on the west side, and it seemed to go on forever, but by the time they could see the moon over the tall treetops, they began hearing purple-ribs, and at last they beheld an endless sea of big bluestem grass, as tall as a rider on a unicorn.

  "So Oisin," said Olloo as they waited for the rest of them, "do we know anything about the shawkyn spooghey besides their being huge and ripping apart their prey with their beaks and claws?"

  "Well they eat trolls and maybe even bigger things. And they hunt in t
he daytime except that they're easily awakened at night, and we'd better keep our voices down. You remember all the things Radella said..."

  "Yea, but I thought some of us might have paid attention to some of the old stories, maybe."

  "That's right," said Doona. "How many of us know something that the rest of us don't? Some little tidbit could save our lives."

  "She's got a good point," said Kieran in a grand way which vexed Oisin.

  "I quite agree," he said. "Any other stories?"

  "Well they can't fly, but they're awfully fast," said Lilee. "And Grandfather Martyn told about their nests on the ground with brown speckled green eggs, the size of a newborn baby's head."

  "I've heard that yearling birds hunt in packs with their parents," said Kieran.

  "And there's nothing out here fierce enough to eat the parents," said Olloo with a sigh.

  "Yea," said Oisin, "maybe we'll just have to change that."

  Chapter 6

  Dyr sat on his favorite rock in front of the Hooter Cave, watching his subjects milling about as they began their night (troll day). He was particularly fond of this rock because it allowed him to keep a careful eye upon his multitude by gazing out across them as if they were altogether unimportant while imposing his endowments upon them at the same time.

  "Dyr," said Gnydy with a sly look as he came up from behind. "It be grow-moon, grow-moon and big-moon-rise and still-no Rre-gafi-ni-oow-fn, no Fnadriph, no Dofan-ay-yr-pi.”

  Dyr ignored him as he continued, "Something be tumble-down. I nod-said those young grab-up-squeakers be-more hee-hee-think than just ho-hums." He crossed his arms with a nod.

  He quickly looked at the ground as Dyr turned about and said, "Then you take your hee-hee-think and ay-ooo, ay-ooo some Dyrney-brutes and go-find Rre-gafi-ni-oow-fn, Fnadriph and Dofan-ay-yr-pi. Now." He thrust out his chin beneath his beetle-browed blue eyes and thumped his chest as if he were running off a misbehaving dog. "Ooot-ooot!"