Elf Puncher

by Simon Archer

  It felt like a cloud shifted, and the sun was suddenly in my eye. The attention on me was so fierce and quick that I wanted to step back out onto the empty street and pretend I never walked through the gate. However, after a mini pause, the crowd cheered incoherently. Smiles spread like water down a stream, and many held up their mugs to me in salute.

  Inside the walls of the gate, there were various wooden tables, all different sizes. Shrubbery sat in pots around the fence, some plants growing higher than the barrier. The torches hung overhead and warmed the area with a soft glow and comfortable heat. It was like stepping into the daytime, such a stark contrast to the cold, gray streets.

  The short elf pushed me from behind while the female with the R’s held onto my hand and led me forward.

  “We need to get this fighter an ale!” she proclaimed to the crowd.

  They cheered their agreement and parted so we could get through. However, as I passed, many creatures reached out to me. They slapped me on the back like a comrade. Some complimented me on my footwork. Others sympathized with my disqualification. One giant even broke his mug, he was so angry over the matter.

  “We love you, Rico.”

  “Good job, Rico.”

  “You’re our favorite, Rico.”

  “So unfair, Rico.”

  “They’re just wrong, Rico.”

  “You’re the best, Rico.”

  My name felt foreign to my own ears by the time we reached the bar. Everyone spoke it like a magic spell, their eyes lighting up. It was unnerving at first, the commotion of it. Their attention was so intense yet fleeting that I didn’t know how to respond. My manners were useless in this environment. All I could manage was a smile and sometimes a wave. I threw out a few thank-you’s too.

  Weirdly, no one seemed to mind. They all just wanted to touch me, talk to me, share their support of me.

  The female elves broke through the bar and leaned against it, almost reaching over the side to get the bartender’s attention.

  “We need an ale,” the shorter elf declared.

  “The largest mug you have,” the other added.

  “Oh, no.” I shook my head worriedly. “I don’t need a giant’s mug. A regular is fine with me.”

  I reached into my pocket, intent on pulling out some pecuns, but both female elves caught my wrist. Their delicate fingers tightened around my skin with surprising strength.

  “Don’t you dare,” the short one warned. “This is on us.”

  “Sorry, females,” the bartender said as he slid a mug across the polished wooden surface. “But Rico’s drinks are on the house tonight.”

  “You really don’t have to do that,” I protested politely, feeling overwhelmed by this attention.

  “Sure, I do,” the bartender replied. He spread out his hands wide on the bar and gave a definitive nod. “It’s the least I can do after you got robbed tonight. I’m sure you can use a drink.”

  I took the mug and wrapped my fingers around the handle, grateful for something to hold on to, something to steady me. I knew how to drink an ale. Even that was familiar even if all of this attention wasn’t.

  “You’re one of the best fighters I’ve seen,” the bartender complimented. “And I’ve been hosting projections of the matches for a long time.”

  “That’s what we told him!” the short elf squealed. She tapped the bar and ordered two ales, one for her and one for her friend.

  “Thank you,” I told both of them in a weak voice.

  “You let me know if you need anything else tonight,” the bartender said with a sharp point at me. “We’re taking care of you.”

  I raised my mug slightly at him and turned so that the small of my back rested on the edge of the bar. I barely got a moment’s peace before a short creature pushed his way through the crowd to approach me. I looked down on the male with a surprised expression.

  “Joaquin?” I asked, nearly sputtering out my drink. “What are you doing here?”

  “What kind of question is that?” the elder dwarf said with a scowl. “I get out.”

  “I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. “I just kinda always thought you lived at your gym.”

  “Well, I do,” Joaquin said with a blink, a little drunk and slow to his words. “But I do other things than just coach, you know.”

  “I didn’t know but now I do,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

  “Though I’m kicking myself for not coaching you sooner.” The dwarf hopped up on the miraculously empty barstool beside me. The female elves were still there, just on my other side and flirting with the bartender.

  My mood slipped back to melancholy at the mention of fighting. “You saw?”

  “Everyone saw you!” Joaquin said with a booming voice. He stretched his stumpy arms out wide, trying to encompass the whole bar. “Everyone wanted to see you tonight.”

  “Yeah, well.” I swallowed my words with a sip of my drink.

  Joaquin slapped me on the shoulder. “You are a good fighter, Rico. Not even the MFL can take that away from you.”

  “They can take my chance of fighting away from me. Again,” I growled.

  “Rico,” the dwarf said, suddenly serious and sober. He took my shirt in his hand and forced me to face him. “You got a one in a million chance, you recognize that, right? You made history.”

  “History?” I questioned with a raised eyebrow.

  “History!” Joaquin emphasized. “You will always and forever be the first human fighter in the MFL. It might not have been billed that way, but everyone knows. And guess what? No one cares.”

  “Except the officials,” I countered.

  “Well, screw them,” the dwarf said with an eye roll. “The fans, the creatures that matter and keep this franchise alive, they want to see good fighters.”

  “I thought they wanted to see a show. Entertainment,” I said, throwing his words back at him.

  “And you gave them that,” Joaquin said. He pointed a thick finger at my chest, right at my heart. “You did that, not with magic and pizazz, but with your technique and your resilience.”

  “Ha,” I half-laughed at his use of the word in my title.

  “You think I’m lying?” Joaquin pulled back and pursed his lips at me.

  “I think you’re a little drunk,” I said honestly, “and might be prone to over-exaggerating because of it.”

  “That might be true,” the dwarf agreed, “but I’m not wrong. And I’m just drunk enough to prove it to you.”

  Joaquin then hopped up onto his feet. He used my broad shoulder to support himself as he maneuvered to atop the bar. The dwarf spread his arms wide and faced the crowd.

  “Hey!” he shouted with the voice of a stern and frustrated coach.

  His command rocketed around the room and silenced everyone immediately. Once again, the attention trained on Joaquin and me. I had to fight the urge to duck behind the bar.

  “I’ve got a toast,” Joaquin announced, his voice still loud and impressive. “To Rico the Resilient. The first and only human fighter to compete in the MFL and leave undefeated. He captured our hearts, and the MFL was too much of a dragon’s ass to see him for what he really is: an excellent fighter.”

  “Here here!” a creature in the crowd agreed. A ripple of murmurs went around the room, nodding their heads too.

  “Raise your glasses,” Joaquin instructed.

  The crowd responded in kind, arms of all colors and lengths stretching upward to the stars. My breath stilled at the sight of it, this type of unity.

  “To Rico!” Joaquin shouted.

  “To Rico!” the creatures replied with the same enthusiastic shout.

  The clatter of mugs. The sloshing of ale. The small chatter of creatures. All of it surrounded me like a tornado. It consumed me and seeped through my skin. I witnessed something I never thought I would. The support and solidarity of a crowd for me, as a fighter, not as a liar. Everyone knew, and they celebrated me, anyway. Because I was good, and I would al
ways be remembered as good.

  Something opened up in my chest and spread throughout my entire body. I couldn’t put my finger on it, the sensation that soared through me. I wanted to call it relief, or contentment, but all I knew was that it warmed me in a way that only the sun and Deity’s laugh ever had before.

  At the thought of Deity, that feeling shrank to the size of a pebble. It was overshadowed by the sense of shame that invaded. I closed my eyes and realized right away what I had done.

  At that moment, I knew I had to get out of there.

  “I have to go,” I said to Joaquin and the bartender.

  “But you just got here!” the dwarf protested with a burp.

  “I know, I know,” I replied hurriedly, “but I just gotta go. Thank you for everything.”

  Despite the bartender saying he would pay for my drinks, I set a couple of pecuns on the bar and disappeared out the door before he could say anything. I found myself sprinting through the crowd who kindly gave my large self a wide berth. I burst through the gate and looked around to get my bearings.

  My legs carried me down the city streets, winding and weaving back the way I had come with the elves. I powered through, determined to reach Deity without wasting another second.

  I came to the apartment building and looked up at the window. To my surprise, there was a light glow in the window of our room. I cupped my hands around my mouth and hollered.

  “Deity!”

  I had no thought or care for the other residents. I needed to get her attention, and this was the best way to do it without smashing the window with a rock or breaking into the building.

  “Deity!” I bellowed.

  The second time did the trick because her face suddenly appeared in the window. But she didn’t open it right away.

  “I’ve gotta talk to you!” I shouted. “Please!”

  Even from this distance, I could feel her displeasure. She probably rolled her eyes and scoffed. But, more importantly, she opened the window and stuck her head out.

  “I have nothing to say to you,” Deity called down.

  “Then don’t say anything,” I said, “let me talk. I’m an idiot.”

  Deity crossed her arms and leaned against the frame. She raised her eyes expectantly.

  “You were right, absolutely right,” I continued. “It is enough. This was a wild, amazing ride that I never thought I would get to go on. The best part, though? I got to go on it with you. You were the best part of it all, and I realize that I get to go on many more rides with you. If you’ll let me.”

  “And so?” Deity said, still not satisfied.

  “And so…” I gulped, suddenly nervous. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I said. I wanted to say I’m sorry and ask you to come home with me.”

  The wait for her answer stretched into the night. I wasn’t sure what she was going to say. How badly had I offended her? How royally had I messed up? I hoped she knew the sincerity of my apology and how much I meant what I said about her being enough. I had done more than I ever dreamed in terms of my fighting career, and if that was going to be it, well, then it was a pretty good run.

  Deity breathed out a sigh and rubbed her arms against the chill. She didn’t look at me, but rather up to the sky, as if she were praying to Walden. I shot up my own little prayer, asking him to help her see the truth in my words.

  Then, she stepped back and shut the window. The light went out behind her, and she was gone.

  I blinked up at the window for a few seconds in sheer disbelief. I didn’t understand. I didn’t know what more I could have done. Now, I was left out on the street where I had been only a little while ago.

  For a second, I didn’t know what to do. Sure, I could have gone back to the bar, but I didn’t want to be with those creatures. I wanted to be with Deity, back at the farm. An overwhelming urge to go home and sleep in my own bed with familiar noises outside the window hit me. I decided it would be best to follow that desire and cool off on the walk back to the country.

  I knew the way from all those times I’d walked it on the weekends. I started in the right direction, due north, when a voice broke through my concentration.

  “And where do you think you’re going without me?”

  I whipped around, my heart leaping in my chest. Deity stood there, right outside the apartment door, bags in hand. I rushed up to her and enveloped her into my arms, bags, and all. She giggled as I lifted her off the ground.

  “You are an idiot if you thought I’d leave you,” Deity said in my ear.

  I squeezed her once more and then set her on the ground. She pulled me down so she could plant a long kiss on my lips. I relished in the feeling of her against me and melted into her. The intensity of the past several hours dripped off me with every movement of her lips, every swirl of her tongue.

  Deity broke away with a big smile on her face. “You’re not going to make me carry these all the way home, are you?”

  “Absolutely not,” I said dutifully.

  I scooped up the bags, putting one on each shoulder. Then, I picked up Deity, my arm against her back and under her knees. She gasped with surprise but leaned into me and wrapped her arms around my neck.

  “I’m not going to let you carry me back,” Deity protested with a grin on her face.

  “I know, but at least give me until we’re out of the city,” I argued.

  She kissed me on the cheek. “Fine. But the minute I spot a dirt road, you better put me down.”

  We reached the farm as the first signs of morning broke through on the horizon. True to my word, Deity walked alongside me the majority of the way. The walk took us longer than normal as we didn’t keep a steady pace throughout. We traveled slowly, allowing time to kiss and talk and laugh in the moonlight.

  We stepped foot onto the farmhouse porch when the rooster made his early morning announcements. I leaned my head against Deity’s and took a pause before I entered. I closed my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, her breathing matching mine. We stood there, in the early morning dawn, breathing against one another, gratitude enveloping us.

  Regretfully, I broke our contact and reached for the door handle. But something stopped me from pushing the door open.

  Herc appeared on the other side of the door, disheveled and disoriented. He rubbed his scruffy beard and blinked up at me for a minute before his vision cleared. When the barkeep realized who, or what, I was, his eyes widened.

  “Oh, thank Walden!” Herc said with a delighted but scratchy voice. “You’re back.”

  “We’re back,” I said with a brief yawn.

  “Perfect,” Herc said as he rubbed his hands together. “Deity, I need your help.”

  “Me?” Deity said with a high-pitched voice.

  “Yes,” Herc replied definitively. “With the MFL North tournament, the bar’s been packed. I know you technically quit, but I need a hand. Most of the creatures are complaining I don’t make the curly fries right.”

  “She does make them the best,” I said as I squeezed Deity’s side.

  “Look, Herc, I wouldn’t mind helping I really wouldn’t, but we just got home and--”

  “I get it, you need to rest.” The barkeep held out his hands as if calming a rowdy dog. “But the match isn’t until later tonight, and you can take a couple of hours and then head to the bar.”

  Deity looked up at me with questioning eyes. I shrugged in response.

  “Herc helped us out,” I reasoned. “You should give him a hand.”

  “It’ll just be through the end of the tournament,” Deity reminded me. “I’ll stay at my place in town, so I don’t have to commute back and forth.”

  My heart sunk a little at the prospect of sleeping alone for the next week. Bt I put on a smile and kissed the top of her head.

  “Go,” I encouraged. “You’re already packed. Get some sleep at your old place and then come home when it’s all over.”

  “Great!” Herc clapped his hands, suddenly full of energy. “I’l
l get my stuff, and I can walk you back to town, Deity.”

  Sooner than I would have liked, Deity and Herc left the farm. They both offered me a wave, and I watched them walk away until they disappeared over a hill.

  I stared back at the house and sighed. I realized then that I didn’t want to be alone in this house. Less than a week ago, it had been filled with caring individuals. There was a warmth now absent from the house that I missed. Even though I lived in this house alone for so long, the thought of being in there, by myself, after everything seemed wrong. It made my stomach churn like eating a bad batch of curly fries.

  Tiredness alluded me. Despite being up for so long, I couldn’t turn off my brain. I cracked my neck and rolled my shoulders. Making up my mind, I stomped into the barn where our makeshift arena and training grounds still stood. I approached the heavy bag and smashed a fist into it.

  The bag swung back in response. Oddly satisfied, I punched it against with the same ferocity. I whacked it again and again. I grunted as loud as I dared. I released any thoughts of footwork, technique, or safety. Instead, I pounded into the bag, taking out all of my frustrations on the fabric. The smack of the leather against my fist resounded in my ears as the impact vibrated up my arm.

  I welcomed the pain, I relished in it. Because while I was happy to be with Deity, while I was happy to be home, the disappointment didn’t magically disappear. Now that she was gone, it all came flooding back. The knowledge that I would never fight again. I would never feel that level of adrenaline, that sensation after winning. I tried to recreate it then, as I punched wildly and with abandon until I couldn’t hear my own thoughts in my head.

  Until I could hear the crack in the wood at the beam holding the heavy bag splinted. With a final punch, the bag collapsed to the ground bringing down a tirade of wood and dust with it. I covered my head with my arms and let the whole thing collapse around me.

  When the clatter ceased, I removed my hands from my head and looked around to survey the damage. I realized, then, that I stood in a ruin of my own making.

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