I wish I could say that I said something smart or defiant in the face certain doom, but the stranglehold the pointy ear had on my throat reduced me to an inarticulate gurgle.
“Is this the one,” asked my assailant in German as he twisted me from side to side to get a better look. “He does not appear particularly impressive by any measure.”
“He is here at the right place at the right time,” answered another coldly imperious voice from my left.
A dozen elves materialized out of the bushes around me. It did not seem possible that I had missed them hiding there but somehow, I had (tree hugging bastards). Hard to tell where they had been as the lack of oxygen caused the edges of my vision to go grey.
“Still…” responded the first elf dubiously.
“Check his right shirt pocket. There should be a miniature girl there.”
I couldn’t see the hand that rifled through my pocket but I could hear the outraged squeak as Kris was pulled from it. I redoubled my ineffective gurgles to no avail, I just sounded like a malfunctioning hot tub.
“There is a girl,” confirmed the first elf.
“Remember, our Lady is never wrong.”
“I still cannot believe that this… unimpressive specimen is who she wanted.”
“It is not up to us to question the goddess. We can only carry out her infallible orders to the best of our abilities and confirm her trust in us and our race.”
“Very well.” Finally, the first elf loosened his grip and dropped me to the ground. Even freed of the elf’s grasp I still couldn’t escape (I was too busy sucking air through my abused trachea to run). While I lay there gasping the elves trussed me up with casual ease of a stunned pig headed to market. By the time I could even consider trying to make a break for it (or at least dying well) they bound my arms and legs to a stout pole and hoisted me into the air between two elves. The pair carried me through the brush like a freshly killed deer, hanging from the stick between them by my hands and feet.
“Kris,” I ground out through vocal cords that felt like they had been crushed in a vice (say what you will about elves being dainty and gay, they had very strong grips). I whipped my head around to catch sight of her but I could see little from where hung other than an elf’s ass.
“Silence, human!” snapped one of the elves. I couldn’t tell which one, there had to be a dozen of the things. All elves sounded alike in their cold imperiousness.
“Let us return to Nuremburg,” called the one I suspected to be the leader. All of the elves started moving deeper into Frau Wyrd’s territory at a trot that had me bouncing uncomfortably between my two bearers.
“Kris,” I croaked again a bit louder as my breath returned, “Kris, Kris!”
“Be quiet,” said the voice again, its owner sounded a bit more annoyed, like someone who was not used to being disobeyed.
“Show me Kris you pointy eared bastard!” I snarled defiantly. I was pretty sure that if I was irritating and insolent enough the elves might just kill me out of sheer annoyance. At the time that seemed like the best outcome that I could hope for. There was little chance that I could escape and no chance that I could fight my way free of a dozen elves. The blades and warbows that they carried made them more deadly than a Navy SEAL platoon despite the archaic look. At least a quick death would have been painless and I would take any secrets that I carried to my grave.
“Stop,” commanded the voice and all of the elves immediately halted. An elven face moved down to right in front of mine. Most elves looked like they were locked in their late twenties or early thirties. Even the people that were old when they changed had the years fall from their faces until they had the same perpetually ageless look as the rest of their species. This guy was different. His hair was bone white and the faintest wrinkles radiated out of the corners of his eyes and mouth. If he were a human, I would have thought him a well preserved fifty, likely a power-mad CEO who liked to pick up much younger women; except for the pointy ears and too large eyes of course.
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“You will be quiet for the remainder of our journey, human.”
“Tell me where Kris is, asshole.”
“You should respect your betters,” the elf snarled.
“And you should go make some toys for Santa. You would look good in a pointy green hat with a bell.” I watched the fire of anger bloom in the old elf’s eyes and heard the other elves around me mutter angrily. Elves hated that particular part of their mythos; I hoped that they would kill me then and there.
“You are lucky that my Lady desires you alive and undamaged…”
“And you are lucky that your lederhosen are loose enough that you can skip through a meadow without hurting yourself.”
“…but that may not always be so. It would be wise for you to hold your execrable tongue before I am given leave to cut it from your idiot head.”
“Why wait, Arawen? As long as I’m alive I’m just going to keep insulting you.” Then I began a long and curse laden diatribe that described exactly what I thought of him, his people and his Lady. It was nice to give my smart mouth free reign for once. Usually I held back to keep from insulting people to the point that they wanted to kill me (though I didn’t always succeed) but that was exactly my aim this time. A quick death beat whatever else they planned to do with me.
Sadly, they didn’t kill me. They just gagged me.
At least they didn’t carry me the seventy-five miles all the way to Nuremburg either. If they had, the ropes that bound me to the pole would have worn their way through my limbs and left me nothing more than a torso with a head. They only carried me two miles or so to a pair of waiting Volkswagen vans. Even so, the ropes had cut deeply enough into my skin that blood ran in a steady trickle down to my elbows. It was a relief when they tossed me into the back of a van… right on top of a spare tire. The elves piled into the part of the van that had seats and left me alone.
I tried to test my bonds but they were too tight. I tried spitting out my gag but that didn’t work either. All I could do was lay there and listen to the hum of the van’s engine and the occasional chatter of my captors.
Unfortunately, the elves in my van were not a particularly chatty bunch. Probably because it was not an appropriate attribute of the warrior servants of the Old Gods. Other than a quick exchange about which road would be quicker at that time of day and some wondering about what their dinner would be the elves were silent. In the end all I really was able to do was contemplate my fate and wonder what had happened to Kris while trying to ignore the pain from my bruised throat and ribs and the rope burns on my arms.
Maybe it was exhaustion, boredom, hopelessness or some combination of the three but somewhere on the way to Nuremburg I passed into a quasi-consciousness that was not quite being asleep and not quite being awake. I was still vaguely aware of the jerks and rattles of every pothole and bump that the van hit, the whir of its wheels over the bumpy road and the breathing of my elven captors. At the same time, it was like my mind was wrapped in a grey fog that softened my world into background noise and filled my brain until there was nothing else.
“You really, you really, should have taken my offer, Thomas Winter.” Till Eulenspiegel popped into existence against the misty backdrop of my mind. The Fey looked exactly as he did in real life except he actually looked a little sad.
“I am beginning to think that as well,” I admitted begrudgingly before stopping to wonder at how I was no longer gagged even though I could still feel the piece of cloth filling my mouth and restricting my tongue.
“I did warn you of what you could face without my help.”
“Yeah, yeah. You don’t need to rub it in,” I replied brusquely even though I knew that the Fey had me over a barrel. “I don’t suppose it’s too late to take you up on your offer?”
“You are in the control of another at the moment. There is very little, very little, that I can do to help you.” Eulenspiegel spread his hands apologetically.
“Then why are you even here? Assuming that I’m not hallucinating all of this.”
“I said, there was little I could do, not nothing.”
“And how much will that ‘little’ cost me?”
“Nothing, nothing. I merely ask that when you are back into a position where I can more fully help you that you remember this moment and accept my offer… and my price.”
“Fine. Can you at least turn Kris back to normal?”
“Maybe, maybe, next time we meet,” he said with one last smile that was more sinister than sad.
I awoke, bound and gagged, in the back of the van. My conversation with Eulenspiegel seemed both ephemeral and at the same time as real as the ropes that bound me. It took a couple minutes for me to notice that the van had stopped.
The doors to the van flew open and several elves reached in and jerked me out into the light of day. Above me loomed the stone-faced edifice of Palace of Justice in Nuremburg. The site of the Nuremburg Trials that judged the survivors of the Nazi regime for war crimes. I had seen it when had backpacked through Germany a lifetime ago, before the Resurgence. Then it had been a historical oddity. Now it was the abode of Frau Wyrd and the seat of her power on Earth. One of the last places in Europe I ever wanted to see up close.
It took a matter of moments for the elves to drag me inside and shut the doors behind me. I doubted that I would live to see those doors open.
