Noses, Penis Piercings, And Rapunzel Hair
aka
Flamboyant Nipples & Wizard Testicles
Writing Character Descriptions
A Very Detailed Look At How I Write The
(Very X-Rated & Often Controversial)
Character Descriptions of The Quaraun Series

(This page is NSFW)

(It contains info and novel excepts on how to describe penises, nipples, and scrotums)

Yes, this IS the page that Inspired Tom Addams To Create His Infamous WebSite:

Flamboyant Nipples & Wizard Testicles

Consider Yourself Warned

He could not remember dates or histories or equations or calculations. Philosophies, theologies, and politics were too deep for him to understand. He complained that music hurt his ears.

The Di'Jinn tried as best they could to teach Quaraun, everything they knew, but none of it stuck in Quaraun's dim, slow witted little brain.

After decades of fruitless effort to teach Quaraun the knowledge that wise old sages, mages, and wizards were supposed to know, they finally gave up, and concluded that Quaraun was just too stupid to be taught. Something was desperately wrong with his brain.

Quaraun was savant. He had things could do, and those things, he did very well. But everything, moved through his brain like water in a sieve. He retained nothing and forgot everything.

But, he could embroider beautifully.

And so the Di'Jinn worked with what they had. And they taught Quaraun to use magic, not through mathematics, star charts, planetary movements, words written on scrolls, numbers, or science - instead, they taught Quaraun, magic through sigils, veve, runes, hieroglyphs, and picture art. Things Quaraun could draw with yellow chalk on his handwoven pink silks, than embroider into the cloth.

They later discovered the young Elf had a talent for glasswork as well. He took to making his own glass beads, so they taught him, colour magic, and the magic of prayer beads.

Before long, Quaraun progressed from making tiny color blown glass beads, to also making tiny colour blown glass bottles. And these, the Di'Jinn taught Quaraun how to capture Gennie's and trap them in bottles and force them to grant wishes.

The Di'Jinn lost hope of Quaraun ever becoming the powerful wizard they had hoped he could be, until the day, they all died and realized the error of what they had done.

Without mathematics, without science, without star charts, without calculations, armed only with coloured glass bottles for of wish granting genies and wearing carnation pink silk, embroidered with colourful magic bead sigils, Quaraun became the most powerful being the world had ever known.

And this had attracted the attention of the world's other most powerful wizard.

Quaraun with his fractured skull and damaged brain, was prone to forget things.

And so he forgot, that he had killed the Di'Jinn, and he forgot, the laws of the Moon Elves, and he forgot how truly evil his father really was.

And thus he now trended through the icy cold snow on the Eastern shores of Lake Gitchigumi, leaning heavily on a wooden staff, in search of the only town in the region with a name: Ivujivik.

He was prone to forget many things.

He often forgot things only a few hours after they had happened.

It had been at least 70 years since he had last been to Ivujivik, Quebec, the town where he had been born. A town that sat on top of the Earth, devoid of anything but ice and snow.

And more ice and snow,

And harbour seals.

And polar bears.

And snow.

And ice.

And blustery winds.

And snow.

And ice.

And more snow.

"Why is there so much snow?"

There was no one to answer him, nor did he actually want an answer.

Quaraun was just frustrated by how wet his dress was and cold his feet were.

He had forgotten about the snow.

Or rather he had forgotten how much snow there was.

And he had forgotten how cold the snow was.

And wet.

Snow was wet.

Quaraun had forgotten snow was wet.

"Why is snow wet?" Quaraun asked himself as he stared down as his wet shocking pink silks. "I'm cold and wet and I hate it."

Quaraun sighed a deep sigh and stood up to his knees in snow and wondering if he was even going the right way. Ivujivik was North. He could remember that much. But it wasn't on any map. No place around here was. In fact, this entire country wasn't on the map, simply because Humans in Europe refused to believe anything existed on the West side of the Atlantic Ocean.

Quaraun had been born in Ivujivik.

He had family there.

His father.

His father's brother.

His older sisters.

This much he could remember.

But Quaraun had been 9 years old when they sent him away to live with the Di'Jinn in Persia on the other side of the planet.

Quaraun could not remember exactly where Ivujivik was.

He also could not remember his father's name.

Or his uncle's name.

Or the names of any of his sisters.

He couldn't remember how many sisters he had.

Or his mother's name.

She was dead.

He missed his mother.

She had loved him.

His father had hated him.

Quaraun dreaded going back home to see his father, but a glimmer of hope that maybe his father had changed, drove him onward through the snow, in search of Ivujivik.

Ivujivik was the furthest North one could go, by going straight up and slightly West from Saco Bay. Which is what Quaraun was doing. He'd arrived at Saco Bay a month ago. Was it a month ago? Quaraun wasn't sure. He wasn't good with dates and times or even numbers in general. He wasn't even sure what year it was or how old he was.

He had calculated it would take somewhere between 1 to 3 months from Saco Bay to Ivujivik, if he walked the entire way. Shorter if weather was good - it was not. Weather was very bad. Longer if weather was bad - which it was. There were other issues besides weather, slowing him down. Namely his hair.

He pulled a brush out of his bag, and nervously brushed his hair.

Quaraun got great satisfaction from brushing his hair.

It soothed him. Relaxed him. Calmed him. Excited him.

Quaraun's love for his hair, bordered on being a fetish.

He brushed his hair when he was upset to sooth his anger.

He brushed his hair when he was aroused, to quell his erecting. Most would have found the sexual pleasure Quaraun took from brushing his hair as deeply disturbing, had they known just how much satisfaction Quaraun got out of simply running his fingers through his long silken hair.

To say that Quaraun was in love with his hair, was an understatement. And the hours he spent each day, doing nothing but brushing and stroking his hair, had often left the Di'Jinn at their wit's end, for once Quaraun began brushing his hair, he would sit for hours and do nothing but and no one could bring him out of the self induced erotic state he put himself into while brushing his hair.

Quaraun had never had a lover. He'd never had need for one. The affair he had with his own hair, was more than enough.

He brushed his hair whenever he was nervous, as a way to calm his nerves and ease his nauseated stomach.

Brushing his hair, however, was not an easy feat.

With hair like Rapunzel, it took more than one person to brush Quaraun's hair.

Quaraun's white hair was over five feet long and dragged on the ground.

Back in Persia,

Quaraun had had servants to brush his hair for him.

It took them 3 hours every morning to brush the Elf's mind-bogglingly long hair.

"My hair is wet," Quaraun sputtered as he put his silver brush away. It was pointless to try to brush it while the lower 3 feet of it was dragging in the snow. He knew if he tried to brush his hair while it was wet and caked with snow and ice, he would damage it. Split ends were enough of an issue as it was without doing more damage.

Quaraun's fetish for hair, led Quaraun to have strange thoughts about strange things. Like Cotswold Sheep and their long luxuriant ivory wool, which he often spun into thread for his embroidery. Quaraun was prone to sit for hours, half buried in piles of fresh sheered Cotswold Sheep wool, touching it and rubbing in his hair.

Quaraun was an Elf of strange habits and his fetish for long hair was perhaps his strangest. His fetish for long hair, is what had led to his most alarming obsession of all: his inexplicable lust for The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

Quaraun grumbled and complained to himself about all the reasons the snow was messing with his hair, and took comfort in cursing the snow as he was currently unable to take comfort in brushing his hair.

A more logical person would have cut their hair to a more manageable length while travelling, but Quaraun was neither a smart nor logical person. He was very vain and very superstituise.

He was in love with the beauty of himself, spent endless hours fussing over the glory that was his silver hair, and, had read in several tomes that the world's most powerful wizards, were powerful because they never cut their hair. In fact, Quaraun had only become a wizard so that he could have an excuse for why his hair was so long.

It was easier to say: "I'm a wizard. We wizards don't cut our hair" than it was to try to explain the unhealthy obsessive love affair Quaraun had with his own hair.

Plus, being a wizard gave Quaraun an excuse to be close to other men who had incredibly long hair. Quaraun had joined The Guild of Wizardry grudgingly. He had no interest in sitting a stuffy meetings listening to rules and regulations being made about magic.

However, it only took one Guild meeting to change his mind. The Guild was filled with hundreds of beautiful men, all with long luxuriant hair. Quaraun took to attending every Guild meeting just so he sit in a room full of gorgeous long haired men and lust after them.

Lusting after long haired men or every race and species had become a bad habit for Quaraun.

Elves.

Dwarves.

Humans.

Gnomes.

Demons.

Faeries.

Merrow.

Trolls.

Goblins.

Merfolk.

Ursiug.

Diontites.

Ptarmagins.

Pixies.

"God I hate Pixies," Quaraun muttered. "Why am I thinking about Pixies?"

Quaraun looked down at the paper in his hand.

How long had he been holding it?

He didn't know.

He could not remember taking it out of his bag.

Quaraun had absent-mindedly pulled out a scroll and, had been writing down a list of names of every race he could think of, whom, had hair that he liked. He put the scroll back in his bag.

Quaraun didn't care what they were, so long as they were males with long gorgeous hair.

"Ursiug have beautiful hair. Probably the most beautiful hair of any one. I have never met an Ursiug. I wish I knew an Ursiug. It would be nice to meet one someday, just to see their hair in person."

Ursiug where sheep people. A type of chaos demon, with the upper body of a humanoid-Elf-like being and the lower body of a Cotswold Sheep. The hair on their heads and the fur on their legs, grew into long ivory ropes of wool. It was luxuriant and soft and Quaraun wanted one for a pet.

Quaraun spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about hair.

His hair.

And every one else's hair.

Quaraun's obsession with hair, defied any sense of logic. And it was his hair fetish is what spurred him into joining the Guild.

The Guild meeting often talked of the topic of long hair.

Many debates there were on the question of: did or did not a wizard get his power from his hair.

Wizards were a superstious lot and the bulk of the wizarding community, did in fact believe that a mage's hair grounded them and the longer their hair, the more powerful they were.

Quaraun had the longest hair of all, so, everyone in the Guild just automatically assumed he must be the most powerful wizard, though, they had never seen him do any magic.

However, there was one wizard who hair longer than Quaraun's. It looked short, because it was dreadlocked. But every knows a brain is only one third the legnth of it's unbraided state. And so the wizard, who was famous for his 4 foot long dreadlocks, was deemed the most powerful mage of all, because unbraided, his hair was over 12 feet long.

But, this wizard with hair longer than Quaraun's, was never in attendance at The Guild meetings. In fact, he wasn't even a member of the Guild at all.

This infuriated Finderu, founder of the Guild, for he had taken it upon himself to make the laws and tell all wizards what they could or could not do. And for a wizard to not obey Finderu's laws, well, that was just completely unthinkable by Finderu's mind.

And so up went the wanted posters.

Wanted, Dead or Alive: The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

Finderu wanted The Elf Eater's head.

Quaraun wanted The Elf Eater's hair.

Quaraun, was mesmerized by the drawings of The Elf Eater on the wanted posters.

Quaraun, had never met the Elf Eater.

Few had.

He was an Illusionist, and a shape shifter.

But one look at his wanted poster, and Quaraun could see, The Elf Eater had beautiful hair.

Wild hair.

Unkept.

Unbrushed.

A long tangled mess.

Exotic in it's pure feralness.

Huge masses of untamed dreadlocks.

Quaraun's lust for The Elf Eater burned uncontrollable, from the from the first time he laid on the dreadlocks he saw in the wanted poster.

That The Elf Eater was a serial killer, a rapist, a murderer, and a practitioner of the darkest arts, mattered not to Quaraun, for all he could think about was his burning desire to meet the Elf Eater and run his finger through the woolly dreadlocks.

Indeed every famous and very powerful wizard had a glorious head of hair and those who grew beards, had matching beards that they often tripped over.

The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley, most famous wizard the world had ever known, was often used as an example, in wizarding textbooks as why a wizard should never cut their hair.

King Gwallmaiic, for this was The Elf Eater's name, was said to be well over 2,000 years old, and had never cut his hair a day in his life. All who claimed to see him, could never describe his face or his body or how he dressed, because they were always too mesmerized by his massive woolen dreadlocks. Huge dreadlocks that reached nearly to the ground, and were woven full if bones nd cluotie ribbons.

Of course, those who saw him, never lived to tell the tale, as he was an evil Necromancer, Blood Sorcerer, Illusionist, and serial killer whom had built and army of undead and marched across the planet mass murdering all who were unfortunate enough to cross his path.

King Gwallmaiic had no royal blood.

He was just a mage, who'd grown very powerful, become undefeatable, and went on a killing spree across the Earth, leaving a mile wide path of blood shed everywhere he went.

He had built himself an army of Liches and crowned himself king of the undead, than later swept through the Realm of Fae, slaughtering every king of every nation, and crowing himself The King of the Faeries.

No beast was more feared than The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

Quaraun was fascinated by The Elf Eater.

Fascinated, was probably not a big enough word for it.

Quaraun was obsessed with The Elf Eater.

Like a screaming fan girl, Quaraun grabbed up every book he could find about the mysterious evil wizard.

Quaraun's fascination with The Elf Eater had been very worrisome for the Di'Jinn, for the Di'Jinn were masters of wish granting and had taught Quaraun this art, but, Quaraun, had used it to set about wishing to meet The Elf Eater. Fortunately, he had done this before mastering the art of granting wishes so had never summoned the Elf Eater to the Di'Jinn temple, as he had attempted to do many times.

But those days were gone. For the Di'Jinn were dead.

Dead, because Quaraun had wished it so.

He hadn't meant to kill the Di'Jinn.

It had been a wish spoken out of turn.

Spoken in anger.

Spoken without thinking.

But it was a wish, never the less, and now, all the Di'Jinn were dead. In the blink of an eye, hundreds of mages were turned into ash, to save the life a tiny black Shetland Pony.

A strange black Unicorn, that had appeared mysteriously one night in the desert, while Quaraun was reading a book about The Elf Eater and had mentally, unconsciously wished to meet the famous beast.

"I don't want to go to Ivujivik. I want to find the Elf Eater. I wish I knew where to find him."

Quaraun was brought out of his thoughts of The Elf Eater, the dead Di'Jinn, and his beloved little pony, by a sudden gust of wind, that sent a pine branch full of snow down in front of him.

"You almost hit me!"

Quaraun stared at the broken limb, which now closed off the path ahead of him. He was too busy thinking about the fallen limb to notice he had just uttered a wish, or notice that black clouds were filling the sky all around him.

He was also too preoccupied to notice that he was in the tundra of the deepest depths of the Deep North, where there were no pine trees. It was too cold for pine trees.

Had Quaraun been smarter he would have paid less attention to his wet shoes and more attention to the vast acres of giant pine trees sprouting up around him, like a huge mushroom ring after a thunderstorm.

But Quaraun wasn't noticing the impending arrival of The Forest of No Return, or the tiny black pony standing on the hill watching him.

A little black pony, with gleaming silver horn, and a long black mane, many decades ago braided and left unbrushed, now flowing in wild dreadlocks down to the horse' hooves.

No, Quaraun was too busy looking down as his tickle-me-pink brocade slippers.

"My feet are wet."

Quaraun sat down in the snow.

His hair was wet.

His feet were wet.

He was cold.

He was hungry.

He was lost.

He was tired.

And lonely.

So very lonely.

He didn't know where Ivujivik was.

He didn't want to see his father.

Or his sisters.

He wanted to find out where The Elf Eater lived and go there. A foolish thought, as Quaraun was an Elf and King Gwallmaiic was called The Elf Eater precisly because he ate Elves, But, Quaraun was a bit too stupid to think about that, just like he was too stupid to not keep starting sentances with the deadly phrase: "I wish."

He was only on the road to Ivujivik to visit his father, because everyone else he knew, was dead.

He didn't know where else to go.

He was lonely and wanted to be in a place where people knew him and welcomed him.

Quaraun was a Psion capable of hypnotizing entire cities into being his thralls, and thus had been able to take control of every mind if he wanted. But he didn't want. What he wanted was a warm bed to slee in. And The Elf Eater. Quaraun sat in the snow, think how nice it would be, to be The Elf Eater's lover. To feel the warmth of The Elf Eater's body. To touch The Elf Eater's hair. To feel...

Quaraun shook the thoughts from his head.

Quaraun was a virgin.

He had never had sex with anyone.

Had never desired sex with anyone.

He didn't know why he desired sex with The Elfer Eater.

But he did.

It was a thought that plagued his mind daily, for years now.

A deep, dark secret Quaraun shared with no one, was his deep, dark desires, to share his bed with The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

A fantasy he kept carefully locked away in his heart, where no one would ever find it.

No one must ever know he felt this way.

Quaraun tried to think of something else.

As the sky grew darker, the clouds grew heavier, the trees grew taller, and the army of undead grew greater, Quaraun sat in the snow, shivering. Cold. Too cold. He had to take his mind off the snow. Off the cold. He was freezing to death, sitting in the snow, too cold to see the Faeries moving in gathering around him.

There were many, many, MANY advantages of being a wizard who flagrantly flaunted his lack of obeying the law.

Quaraun needed to rest. He need to get warm again. He folded his hands over hs chest, closed his eyes and drifted off into a lulled meditative state of just listening to the endless silence of snow.

He tried to think happy thoughts.

Warm thoughts.

A peaceful, contented serenity that Quaraun rarely felt these days, swept over him, filing his mind with soft, warm, comforting thoughts.

The crisp, clean smell of the fresh icy snow.

The alpine air, floral of scents of lovely pink orchids and lush evergreens.

The minty fragrance of checker berries and wintergreen leaves.

The warm earthiness of sphagnum moss, peat, and leaf mold.

The cool late spring breeze wafting down the mountain, chilling the air and awakening the nodding yellow headed daffodils.

The warmth of the sun, melting the muddy slush of winter and filling creeks, brooks, and rivers full of glorious, brown mud, cascading into the ocean estuary.

To be at one with nature.

To hear the birds chirp.

The tadpoles sing.

The warm embrace of mother's ever loving tentacles.

Warm, slithering, slimy, squishy thoughts of swimming in primordial goo.

Tadpoles, swimming in one mass herd, filling the slimy muck, with endless black wriggling specks, each competing for a host.

The chilled cold of dark caves.

Desperate.

Devouring.

Fighting,

Killing.

The massaquere of millions.

The fight to survive.

Quaraun opened his eyes.

That wasn't right.

Where had those slithering, squishy, gooey, slimy, thoughts come from?

He hadn't thought them.

He was certain of it.

He had been thinking Elven thoughts.

Thoughts of nature.

Thoughts of spring.

And suddenly, thoughts warm comfortingiing thoughts were encroached upon by madness.

Pure, glorious madness.

He crazed it.

He lusted for it.

And the fight to survive against all odds. The lust for brains. The supsouse, juicy goodness, the delicate flavour...

Quaraun stood up suddenly. His foot long ears alert, high over his head, stiff with fear. His eyes darting quickly to and for, glancing around the darkness of night, in search of the source of these thoughts.

The Moon Elves had other reasons for requesting Quaraun's return. Reasons which they had chosen not to tell him about, for fear he'd remember how they'd treated him and not help them.

A thousand years ago or more, no one really knew the date, there had risen up a King.

An evil, murderous, bloodthirsty, monster, who set out to killing every King across the globe.

One by one the monstrous beast had slaughtered every King of the Realm of Fae, declaring himself King of all the Faeries.

The creature was a bitter, angry Phooka.

An evil trickster Faerie who thought there was nothing more delight some then to watch his victims die horrible death at the expense of his often bloody, practical jokes.

King Gwallmaiic hailed from Fire Mountain of Pepper Valley, and he had an insatiable lust for eating Elves, and thus he became known as The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

But after a thousand years of terror, the evil King vanished without a trace.

Only to rise up again a few hundred years later as a Lich, unlike any Lich the world had ever known.

He was not dead.

No one could explain it.

He was not fully a Lich and yet he had very Lich-like traits and powers.

The horrors King Gwallmaiic had rained on Elven villages in his lifetime was nothing compared to the nightmares his reign of strange-near-undeath had brought.

Millions of Elves fell in his wake and rumours said that he ate the flesh of every one of them.

The Elves of the Deep North had long thought themselves safe from this monstrous terror. The Elven villagers of the South became extinct. The Phookan King and his army of undead minions moved farther north. The aristocratic High Elves of the Deep North shuddered in terror. For the undead Phookan army marched ever closer to their snow capped mountains.

The Moon Elves hated their frail, transvestite prince. But, in his 70 year absence he had gained a reputation.

A reputation as the most powerful and most deadly Wizard since the Elf Eater himself.

Rumours said Quaraun was one of the few beings to ever meet a Lich face to face and live to tell the tale.

Supposedly.

Quaraun, also supposedly, had a skill for getting close to Liches and killing them.

Permanently.

Supposedly.

Liches are immortal.

They can not be killed.

A Lich once killed, will reawaken 100 years from it's so-called death.

Quaraun had killed the Di'Jinn - the masters of making Liches. So people assumed that he must know how to kill a Lich.

A difficult feat, as Liches were eternal beasts who could regenerate indefinably.

In truth, Quaraun had never killed a Lich. He had once met a Lich, he had been unaware the Lich was a Lich, so had no knowledge of his having encountered said Lich.

But, people will believe gossip, lies, slander, and rumors, long before they will believe the truth. No matter how many times Quaraun said he was not a Lich hunter and had never met or killed a Lich, people refused to believe otherwise.

It was the hope of the Moon Elves, that by having Quaraun back in their village, he would kill the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. Save all Elves everywhere or at least, save the only important ones: The Moon Elves.

Quaraun's life was nowhere near perfect. 

After having run most of the past several months, he was glad to be back home. 

The problem was that he couldn't remember who he was running from or why. 

He had no memory of the events of his last few weeks with the Di'Jinn and he didn't know why. 

Something horrible had happened, his mind kept telling him. 

But he couldn't remember what. 

He was running from something, that much he knew. 

He also knew someone was following him. 

Who and why, he did not know.

Quaraun was still a few days out from the village. 

His stomach rumbled, reminding him how hungry he was, as he looked up and focused on the main road, trying to determine which way was North. 

The road was vacant of houses. 

No buildings of any kind. 

All he could see for miles were snow covered fields and dense snow laden pine forests. 

Pine forests.

No.

That's not right.

There are no pine trees in the tundra.

Quaraun had finally noticed the trees, but dim witted that he was, the fact of the trees, still had not fully set in.

It had been a while since he had last seen a house and several days since the last village. 

In places the snow was seven feet deep, it was difficult travelling. 

In his years living in the desert he had forgotten how cold and wet snow was. His wet silks stuck to his skin making it difficult to walk. And the further north he went, the deeper the snows got. 

The sun had sunk below the treeline and Quaraun knew he had to find somewhere to bed down soon, and try to find something to eat.  He sat back down. He had tent with him, in his bad of holding. A tent and bedroll. But he was just too cold to set them up.

So cold.

Why was it so cold.

It shouldn't be this cold.

This cold is unnatural.

It's the cold of death.

The cold of Liches.

A Lich's frost.

No.

There were no Liches here.

It would be too cold to travel once the sun had set. The frigid cold of the dead icy filled nights could kill any creature caught outside after dark.

And so, Quaraun sat, in the snow, thinking these thoughts, staring at his cerise pink silk shoes, muttering how wet they were, and, not noticing that he was now surrounded by hundreds of acres of ancient pine trees in the treeless tundra, while the little black pony had morphed and changed, and was now a very evil looking sorcerer sitting on the back of a massive Friesian stallion.

And from behind the trees, were appearing more and more ponies, each of them morphing into various undead creatures as The Elf Eater's Army completely surrounded Quaraun.

As Quaraun pondered where to set up camp for the night, his thoughts were broken by a herd of horses, with Phookan and Dark Elf riders galloped past him. His long silver hair whipped around his face and shoulders along with the ice crystals and chunks of snow that was kicked up from the speeding hooves. 

Quaraun watched the evil army of the Elf Eater as they passed. They were not long gone before he heard them stop, on come riding back. 

The army was lead by a creature unlike anything Quaraun had ever seen before, simultaneously hideous yet exotically beautiful at the same time. 

The beast was monstrous, every inch of it covered in long shaggy matted black fur. 

On it's hands were huge claws, sharp enough to lop off a man's head in a single swipe. 

It's teeth were fearsome, protruding like razors out of it's mouth, and long gazelle-like horns on it's head. 

A Phooka. 

Looking like Krampus.

But not Krampus.

Not here.

In spite of the cold, this was too far South to be Krampus.

Krampus rarely left his home in the deepest depths of the deepest Deep North. 

The creature rode on a black stallion, with a gleaming silver horn growing from it's head, but as the creature approached, the horse and the beast both melted away, leaving behind only a small dark skinned man, now somewhat Human looking, and barely five feet tall, with a massive crowing glory of wild dreadlocks.

The shape shifter had a wild grin on his face and a devilish gleam in his sparkling black eyes, as he slunk close to Quaraun, close enough to lick the Elf's ear.

"Ah! My saviour! We meet again!"

"Again? Have we meet before."

"I was horse wid no name who wandered desert of Di'Jinn un ya did save me. I am indebted to thee, oh pretty Elf."

"I... I don't understand."

Quaraun could hardly think.

The scent of the beast’s breath, hair, and body was intoxicating.

Molasses.

Anise.

Clove.

Vanilla.

Licorice.

Horehound.

Peppermint.

Wormwood.

Gingerbread.

Cake.

Honey.

Sandalwood.

Patchouli.

Frankincense.

Myrrh.

Hashish.

Opium.

Poppies.

It was like being in a candy shop, next to a bakery, beside an opium house. Quaraun wanted to melt away in the glorious delights of the creature’s enticing fragrances.

“Ya be Quaraun, evil lil Moon Elf, murderer of de Di'Jinn.” 

“I have killed no one.”

“Ah. Aye. Ya secret be safe wid me. I shall tell no one what ya has done.”

“What do you want?”

“To touch ya."

"I don't like being touched." 

"Not just touch ya. Feel ya. Taste ya. Bed ya. Bite ya. Drink ya blood. See what it like. Yis a strange beast."

"I'm not a beast. I'm an Elf."

"Haha! Ya believes it, aye? Lovely. Yis perfect. Exactly what I needs."

"Perfect for what?"

"Ya be so innocent, so sensual, so lustful, so sweet, yet so evil. Ya yin and yan meld toget'er so fabulously.”

“My what?”

“Magic ya knows not of, but ya has. Good and evil exist in ya side by side. Pure grey. Not black. Not white. Chaos. Pure chaotic evil mixed with pure chaotic good. It sends shivers down me spine. The thought of it. I can feels it. Ya be destined for great t'ings.”

The Phooka reached out and touched Quaraun's face.

“Kill him and be done with it,” said a Dark Elf who now road up beside them.

“Back off Gibedon. Never interfere wid me work,” the Phooka growled, hissing like a wildcat. "This ones special. This ones mine. This one I keep. My lil toy, for when yis not around."

“Gibedon?” Quaraun asked. “The Necromancer?”

“Aye, me apprentice, but de job be open for anot'er iffy ya wants it. I will gladly pass it to yis. Ye far more powerful than Gibedon will ever be. And a thousand times more beautiful. Such a lovely Elf.”

“You are King Gwallmaiic.”

“Aye. I am." The Phooka whispered seductively while it licked Quaraun's face.  "Ya wished for me.”

“Elf Eater of Pepper Valley."

"Aye. Here to grant ya wee lil wish. Warm ya wee lil bed." 

"Murderer of millions.”

“Ya knows who I be yet ya be no afeared of me."

"Should I be?" 

"Yis an Elf. I eat Elves. Yis should be terrified."

"I see nothing terrifying here."

"I like dat.”

“Why would I be scared of you? You're nothing but a Faerie.”

"Ooooh. Got balls do we?" Gwallmaiic reached up Quaraun's legs and squeezed his scrotum as he said this. Quaraun yelped and pulled away from the evil wizard.

Quaraun knew that he was facing the infamous black hearted King of the Faeries, himself, and were Quaraun any other Elf, he would have been trembling in fear, but Quaraun had a bad habit of being scared of things he had no reason to fear, and not fearing the things he should.

“I can rarely get dis close to ya.”

“Implying you've been close to me before?”

“Mony times,” the Phooka breathed as he moved close to the Elf, getting up on his toes and kissed Quaraun's face. “And so lovely ya be. Dis do be closest I has ever been to ya. I has wanted to touch ya for so mony years. Ya has never let me get dis close before.”

“I've never seen you before.”

The creature slid it's clawed fingers down Quaraun chest.

“Oh ya hae. Ya just do'na knows it. I be shape shifter."

"You're a Phooka." 

"Aye. I be anyt'ing. Anyone. Any thing yis wanting. What does da Scared Pink JellyFish want? Whatever it is I will be it."

"You want to be, what I want?"

"Aye."

"Why?"

"I tell ya, already. I want to be close to ya. Yar power. Yis got a power I never done seen before. I can feel it. Wid training, ya'll be more powerful dan me. Ya does na know what ya be. But I do. I knows exactly what ya are. And I want it. I always get what I want. What do ye want?"

"Right now? Warmth and food. And a place to sleep. I'm cold and hungry. And wet and tired. I forgot how cold and wet snow is. My hair is wet and my shoes are wet."

"Shoes?" The Phooka stepped back and looked down at Quaraun's feet.  "Eh? Not quite dressed for de weather is we? Silly lil Elf. Yis worried about shoes. Eh? Take dem off and slide into bed wid me."

"Bed?" 

Quaraun gasped when he felt Gwallmaiic forcefully shove his  hand inside of Quaraun's kimono and wrap his sharp clawed fingers around Quaraun's flaccid cock.

"Yis always welcome in me bed. I will keep ya bonny arse warm. I has lots o way to warm up a pretty lil ting like ye."

"You're a male. As am I."

"Does that matter? I can become female if you like? I can be anyone. Male or female. Whatever ya want. That I will be."

"Why?"

"I already answered that."

"But I don't understand your answer."

"No? I lust for ya. As much as ya lust for me." The Phooka was so close to Quaraun now, their bodies were touching. The warmth of the Phooka's body felt good. The air was so cold, and his body s warm. "And ya lust for me quite a lot. Unlike any one else ever has."

"No, I don't."

"Aye ya does. I has heard ya words. Ya wishes. Wishes in the desert. Wishes for the warm embrace of King Gwallmaiic."

The Phooka pushed Quaraun back against a tree, pressed tight against him, and kissed him. Quaraun made no move to resit, though, he was uncertain why. The Phooka pulled away from him and stared into the Elf's clear cornflower blue eyes.

"And yar lust for me now. That why I be here."

"I don't."

"Ya does. Ya just scared to admit it. My lust has burned for you for 2,000 years."

"I'm not that old."

"The skin ya wear, no, the Elf not that old. But the Thullid inside, is ancient. I has waited so long to meet ya. I try so often to reach you. Touch you. Kiss you. Love you. Fuck you like a whore."

"I don't know you."

"No. But I want to change that. Make ya me lover."

"You are a stranger. Why would I be your lover?"

"Have ya a reason why ya would not be?"

"The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley eats Elves and I'm an Elf."

"Well, there is that."

"How would I know, your offer is nothing more than a trap, to kill me and eat me?"

"Because I does no want to eats ya. I wants to fuck ya."

"That's not something I want."

"Are ya sure?"

"Yes."

"Who do yis wants fucking ya than? I will be dem instead. I will be any. Who ever ye want. That I will be. Whatever it take to get in ya bed. But I tinking, this one does it for ya. Ya never let me get dis close before."

"Have you been many?"

"I be mony. I try for years to get close to ya, but ya be skittish un run away, every time.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“If I were gonna kills ya, I would already has done it.”

Quaraun did not know why, but he felt no threat from the creature and so made no move to get away, as the little Faerie pressed it's warm body close against him.

Though Quaraun was a very short Elf, the Faerie was even shorter than he was and stood on the Elf's feet, then rose up on his toes to be eye level with the Elf.

The Phooka was pushing his hard erection between the Elf's legs and it was arousing Quaraun, much more then he wanted to admit. Quaraun's eyes glazed with lust. His mind wandered, wanting to touch Gwallmaiic just as badly as Gwallmaiic wanted to touch him and his cock was already pressing against his thin silks.

Gwallmaiic's hands gently slid down Quaraun's belly, gliding along his hips before squeezeing and fondling one of his ass cheeks.

Quaraun gasped. Cold air snagged in Quaraun's throat. He could not believe his good fortune, being groped by the very object of his darkest desires. Gwallmaiic continued to fondle Quaraun and Quaraun continued to do nothing and just let this happen.

Quaraun closed his eyes and let the Phooka kiss his neck, while pressed his hips harder again Quaraun. His hand still gripping him, Gwallmaiic begin to stroke Quaraun's cock up and down along the shaft at a steady pace while his other hand went back to squeezing and massaging Quaraun's ass cheeks but this time from the inside Quaraun's dress, which at some point Gwallmaiic had lifted up without Quaraun noticing he'd done it.

"This is..."

"Shh...sweet lil Elf, let me take care of ya."

Gingerly, Quaraun put his hands on the Phooka's chest and pushed him back a few inches.

"Please don't do that."

"Why not? Ya likes it."

Quaraun did like it and he completely wanted to ignore that fact. He couldn't let himself enjoy Gwallmaiic's touch, because he also knew the stories. The Rumors. King Gwallmaiic had a reputation for seducing Elves, than raping them to death, eating their flesh, drinking their blood, and grinding their bones into flour to make drugged gingerbread. All the stories said so. It was why he was called The Elf Eater.

“How do you know me?”

“I has hunted ya for years. Could ne'er catch ya. Then one dae I were wounded un ya saved me life.”

“I do not remember that.”

“And I will never forget it. Nor will I forget how ya saved what were left o me army.”

“Your army?” Quaraun looked around at the motley crew of various Dark Fae, Dark Elves, Blood Elves, Beasts, Monsters, and undead creatures, which were gathering to watch what their leader would do to the young Moon Elf. “I have never seen your army before.”

“Ya did. In de desert of de Di'Jinn. Ya saw us. Ya fed us. And de Di'Jinn unleashed deir terror upon us, ya unleashed ya terror upon dem. We be indebted to ya. We'd all be dead now, were not for ya. Our hero. Our saviour. The Scared Pink JellyFish. Our Goddess. We worship her, so we worship you.”

The Phooka bowed before Quaraun, than stood and clutched his talons around the Elf's throat.

“I don't know what your talking about.”

“Ya's an Elf after me own 'eart. Some dae ya will remember what ya did un when ya does, I'll be waiting for ya. Come Gibedon, we leave.”

The Phooka let go of Quaraun and walked back to his horse.

The mesmerizingly beautiful black haired, black eyed Phookan leader turned and whistled at Quaraun, then grasped his privates in a lewd gesture.

“Ya're a pretty one," the Scottish hell beast said to Quaraun. “I woulds love to fuck ya wee lil bahookie."

Quaraun swore at him in Thullid, with a disgusted grimace, which made the Phookan leader laugh. He blew Quaraun a kiss as they road away, and Quaraun hoped he'd never see them again.

No.

That wasn't right.

Quaraun desperately wanted to see him again.

King Gwallmaiic.

Quaraun had lusted after King Gwallmaiic for years.

A deep dark secret, that Quaraun kept hidden away. He knew if anyone found out, he'd be cast out of Elven society.

So much was wrong with Quaraun's lust for King Gwallmaiic.

They were both male for starters.

Plus Gwallmaiic wasn't an Elf.

And than there was the fact that King Gwallmaiic was evil. Plain and simple. A murderous, blood-thirsty villain.

Quaraun shivered.

The Phooka had been correct. Quaraun had wished many times to meet the evil Dark Lord, King Gwallmaiic, Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

For years.

Decades.

Quaraun had longed to meet him.

And now that he had, Quaraun's raging desires for the evil Faerie King were stronger than ever before.

Quaraun hated Faeries.

Yes. He did. He told himself this over and over again, while wishing silently for the Phooka to return. Silently wishing to bed with the Phooka.

No.

Quaraun knew he must put such thoughts out of his head.

No good ever came from associating with Faeries.

Especially not Phookas.

Worst Faeries of all.

And this was no meer Phooka.

This was King Gwallmaiic.

The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

Quaraun veered off the main road, into the forest to try to find a spot to set up his tent for the night. Quaraun wondered at seeing Phookas this far North.

Phookas were southern beasts, normally inhabiting tropical cloud forests, jungles, and rain forests. Warm tropics were their home lands, not these frigid high altitude arctic mountain ranges.

Quaraun also wondered at seeing trees this far North.

There were no trees in the tundra, and yet, here they were. Acres and acres and acres of huge, massive trees.

Quaraun lay down on his bedroll and fell asleep thinking about trees and polar bears and Phookas and Gwallmaiic and gingerbread scented dreadlocks. He drifted off into sleep dreaming about King Gwallmaiic and wishing he'd let the Phooka finish what he'd started.

That night, Quaraun woke to find himself being dragged from his bedroll. Loud cheers and taunts enveloped him as his clothes were ripped from his body. He fought his attackers but they stripped him naked as they held him face down shoving his face into the snow.

Someone forced his legs open and someone else knelt between his thighs.

A rough, heavy hand was placed in the small of his back.

A surge of wild untamed fear came over him and he fought harder with his assaulters. He was so busy trying to fight off the men holding his wrists and ankles that he neglected to notice the man standing over him until he straddled him.

Quaraun screamed and yelled and thrashed and kicked, but none of this did any good as any one of the men holding him down was stronger than he was, so all of them together left him completely helpless.

The Elf's scream hung in the cold night air when he was penetrated hard, by who he didn't know. His body went rigid and trembled with the pain and humiliation of his predicament. His rapist made no attempt to go easy on him. Quaraun screamed as he felt his rapist pump into his ass.

"Shhhh..." a familiar voice whispered into Quaraun's long pointed ear. It was King Gwallmaiic who was on top of him, raping him. The Phooka leaned forward, hugging Quaraun, pressing his chest against the Elf's back, and licking Quaraun ear with his long snake-like tongue as he spoke. "I is not going to hurt, Quaraun. Relax. Let it happen. It'll be better for both of us if ya doe. Though I does na mind iffy ya don't. I like it rough. And I can makes it hurt a lot if ya fight me."

"Let me go," Quaraun whimpered.

While Quaraun deeply lusted for The Elf Eater's touch, he was also terrified The Elf Eater would kill him when he got done raping him.

"No, no, no. Quiet. Shhhh. Tis alright. I'll not hurt ya. Relax. Yas a wish ya want fulfilled. I is here to grant ya wish. Shhhhh. Don't be frightened. It'll be over soon and ya'll be glad it happened."

There were too many of the King's men holding him down while the King raped him. With no choice but to wait until this was over Quaraun learned to take the Phooka's entire cock until he could feel the Faerie King's thick balls slapping against his butt cheeks. After a few minutes of agonizing pain his body became used to this new sensation and it started to feel good.

Really good.

And that scared him even more.

He didn't want to enjoy what was happening to him.

The feeling of pain started to subside and Quaraun focused on how good another man's cock felt while it was deep in his ass.

After a few moments Quaraun stopped struggling.

Having anal sex with a complete stranger wasn't like him at all, in fact, Quaraun had never had sex with anyone at all, male or female.

Quaraun was a virgin.

Quaraun hated sex.

He said so often.

Quaraun was scared of sex.

Quaraun was scared of a love of things.

But sex was very high on his list of the most terrifying things on the planet.

Yes. Quaraun kept a list of things that scared him.

He started trying to think of what was on the list.

He wanted to think of anything other than how much he was enjoying the fucking he was receiving.

But he simply could not ignore how much he was enjoying this.

Quaraun tried not to think about the fact that the creature assaulting him was known for raping Elves, moments before killing them and eating their flesh but the thought could not escape him as fear built up in the pit of his stomach.

Quaraun knew better then to give in to this, he knew he should fight, he knew he would soon be slaughtered by this gang of violent criminals, but it felt too good to try to stop them. His mind's objection to this horribly risky scenario was being overruled by his body's craving for more cock up his ass. He held his ass high in the air letting the Phooka fuck him.

Seeing that the Elf had stopped putting up a fight, the Faerie King pushed his men aside, and now no one was holding the Quaraun down as the Phooka continued to ride him.

Quaraun, it seemed, was a total anal slut, something he hadn't realized he would ever be. And the Phooka loved it. Both men cried out in pleasure as they enjoyed the sensations of one another's bodies.

Quaraun gripped his hands to the ground and pushed back hard as Gwallmaiic fucked him.

Quaraun gritted his teeth and moaned. He had never experienced anything like this before. He hadn't known he could. He knew he didn't like sex with females, but the thought that he could enjoy sex with another male had never crossed his mind.

Quaraun could feel his own large balls slapping up against his body as Gwallmaiic drilled deeper and harder into his bowels.

With another hard, deep thrust, the Phooka above him came down on all fours. He could feel the creature's warm seed flowing inside him.

As another load of the Phooka's sperm filled his bowels, Quaraun found himself shaking.

Quaraun was so close to cumming. His ass hole was wrecked from the harsh treatment and leaking cum and his orgasm that was building was turning into a painful blueballs.

Quaraun needed to cum so badly, but what the Phooka did next, suddenly brought Quaraun back to his senses as he remembered who was doing this to him and the great danger he was in of being murdered the moment the Phooka finished fucking him.

“Ya likes dat pretty t'ing." The Elf Eater whispered in Quaraun's ear, then took hold of the Elf's pointed ear with his teeth, tearing his earrings out and drawing blood.

Blood gushed from the wound, running down his neck and staining the snow red. The Phooka licked the blood off his neck, then began sucking more blood from the wound.

“Mmm... ya tastes sooo good, pretty Sugar Pie," the Phooka laughed.

Quaraun was shivering.

“Is ya cold or frightened? Or both? What scares ya more Quaraun? That I is a monster? Or that ya wished for this? Wishes grated. Pretty llil Elf. Is not wishes ya specialty? Ye should more careful what ya wish for, eh?”

"How do you get inside my head?"

"I told ya before. Ya no ordinary Elf. Yis a Thullid in Elf skin. And psion brain of yars is powerful. Powerful enough that I can feel yar desires for me. Ya wishes for me. Ya wanted me here in yar bed. Now here I am. Lusty lil Elf. Ye should be more careful with ya wishes."

"Implying I should not like this?"

"Aye. But ya does. Eh?"

The Phooka pulled the Elf's cloths back on his trembling body.

This action confused Quaraun.

He became even more confused, when the Phooka once again bit him, this time on the neck, again drawing blood. Terrified that the Elf Eater was about to eat him, Quaraun once again began to struggle against his attackers.

“Please let me go,” he cried out

Quaraun struggled to get up, but the Phooka had a hugging grip on him and pushed him down to the ground..

“Ya wants dis.”

“No!" Quaraun answered with a desperate scream.

“Ya knows ya do," the Phooka answered.

“No! Stop!" Quaraun begged. “Please.”

“I is no gonna hurt ya, Quaraun. I knows that what ya t’inking. Ya did'na start to fight me until I drew blood.”

"Please." Tears were streaming down Quaraun's face. His heart was pounding hard in his chest. He felt dizzy. The world was spinning.

The Phooka continued to molest and fondle him, but Quaraun's mind was reeling now. Terror had seized him and he was now far to scared to enjoy the sensations any longer. Quaraun began to scream and scream and scream.

"Oh, why yis so frightened?"

Gwallmaiic put his hand on Quaraun's chest. He could feel the Elf's heart pondering uncontrollably. Gwallmaiic leaned back off the Elf. Quaraun was hyperventilating, his mind no longer registering what was going on around him.

The Phooka lifted the Elf up into his arms and hugged him, rocking, trying to calm Quaraun back down out of the mindless fit of terror his was now in. Gwallmaiic had seen Quaraun kill the Di'Jinn. He knew how dangerous this Elf really was. He knew how little control Quaraun had over his powers when he was upset or frightened.

Gwallmaiic waved his hand and a lead crystal glass full of a bright emerald green liquid appeared in his hand. He held the glass to Quaraun's lips.

"Here. Drink dis. It'll help. Shhhhh. Tis okay. I will no hurt ya. Yis no need to be afeared of me. I am a friend. We are no enemies."

In spite of Quaraun's frantic flailing, the Phooka managed to get the Elf to drink the Absinthe. After a few moments Quaraun relaxed somewhat, as the wormwood infused wine lulled him into a calmer drugged state.

The Phooka continued to hug Quaraun.

“Let me go,” the frightened Moon Elf wailed. “Please let me go.”

“Shhhhh! Tis alright. Lay back down un I will fuck ya again.”

“No! No please! Please let me go. Please.”

The Phooka kissed Quaraun's face.

“Do no be so frightened. I likes ya. I does no seek to harm ya. I wants ya to join me un me army. Ya has great potential. I can feels it. Ya be already a great Wizard, but ya lack training. I can help ya wid dat. And ya can be me lover un share me bed. Ya'll like dat, I can tell by how ya was acting just now whilst I was in ya. Ya a right a lil slut ya are.”

Seeing that the Elf was struggling against their King, the men once again took hold of Quaraun. Loud voices yelled obscenities over him, and harsh hands griped at his wrists and legs.

They hurt.

Quaraun kicked them, not knowing who he had kicked. But someone else quickly grabbed his leg, restraining him again.

With sudden strength, Quaraun pushed the Phooka off him.

Someone let go of a leg, which he used to kick as hard as he could, dislodging the second person that held his other leg.

He jerked his arm free, tuned and belted the person holding his wrist.

Then Quaraun scrambled to his feet and ran.

“You fucking son of a bitch faced whore! He broke my frigging nose!" Quaraun heard behind him scream, but he didn't slow down or give it a second thought.

“Let him go," Quaraun heard the Phookan leader say. “I do no want him hurt. I found out what I wanted to knows. He can not control his powers. He is very dangerous. But we need him. I gots other plans for him. He needs training. Wildfire with no control - he'll kill us us with nothing but a wish.”

"Than we should kill him now, whil..."

"NO! I wants him alive. Yi will no touch him. None of ya. Not now. Not ever. Ya does na knows what he is."

~o0o~

Quaraun made it back to his village without further incident, but when he arrived, his father was less then happy to see his son dressed in a dress and looking like a daughter instead of a son and immediately began arguing with him, and thus Quaraun never got a chance to mention his encounter with the Phookas or inform the village that the Elf Eater's army was travelling only two days outside from the village.

Quaraun had forgotten how much contempt his father and the villagers had for him and quickly regretted coming back. Quaraun had intended to tell them that the Elf Eater's army was only hours outside the village, but Quaraun was a scattered brained Elf and forgot things easily when distracted or nervous. And he was more scared of his father then he had been the beast that had raped him.

Outside the village, a pair of dark eyes watched as the others scolded, yelled at, and mercilessly teased to poor little Elf. Quaraun fled from the Moon Elves and ran crying to his old room at the top of the tower, locking himself in for several days.

“Poor Little Elf, so innocent, so pure, so easily corruptible," the Phookan King said to himself. Gwallmaiic then turned to his followers. “I will'na be needing ya for a while. Go South, raid de other Elven villages, but do'na touch dese Moon Elves, not yet, not till I says so."

“What is your plan, sire," asked de Dark Elf who stayed close to the King.

“I want him in me army.”

“The pink sissy?”

“Aye.”

“That Elf's no fighter.”

“Dat dere, not be Elf.”

“He looks like an Elf.”

“I can looks like an Elf too.” Upon saying this the Phooka shifted and changed into the form of a Moon Elf. “Judge not what lifes inside, by what de outside looks like, Have ya learned not'ing from me Gibedon?”

“If that is not an Elf, then what is it?”

“Look at de clothes.”

“I am, he looks ridiculous. No self respecting Elf would parade around dressed like that.”

“Exactly me point. That not an Elf.”

“Then what is he?”

“Ya seen creatures dress like dat before.”

“Those squid headed monsters dress like that.”

“Mmmmm. And dat does no strike ya as odd?”

“The crown prince is eccentric.”

“The crown prince is eccentric,” the Phooka mocked the Dark Elf, than slapped him in the head. “Unlike him, ya has brain Gibedon. How come for dontcha use it, before ya lose it de same way him gone un lost his?”

“You're not being clear, Sire.”

“Not being clear,” the Phooka muttered under his breath. “It a good t'ing yar good in bed un good at fighting for me, or I'd've eaten ya by now. Ya so damned stupid.”

“Forgive my ignorance, Sire, but I am only an Elf.”

“All Elves is stupid. Were dey smarter I'd no be able to eat so many of dem. Him has'na got any brains in him head un him smarter den ya bes. Where dids we just follow him from?”

“The forest.”

The Phooka punched the Elf in the head.

“We just followed him half way around de world from de Desert of de Di'Jinn ya dolt.”

“So?”

“So? Him were living wid Thullids. Ya ever seen a Thullid not kill an Elf?”

“Not unless it was a Spawnling waiting to hatch... aaah. I see. That's why he wears Thullid clothes. He's not an Elf.”

“Aye. That dere be a Thullid Spawnling, masquerading as an Elf. There ain't no brain in him head. Was eet up long time ago by dat pink Jellyfish dat living in dat hollowed out skull of his.”

“Thullids are dangerous. They can't be trusted.”

“They be more chaotic evil dan a Chaos Demon, aye. And dis one be unstable, but dere be rumours among de Thullid dat de Grand High Emperor of de Triple Planets has been implanted in a host body and walks among us. And wid de way de Di'Jinn practically worshipped Quaraun, I does be guessing deir leader be living in de head of dat yon Elf.”

“You need more then a hunch.”

“I got more den a hunch. I saw what he did to de Di'Jinn un I got a taste of his blood."

"That's why you bit him?"

"Aye. That why I bit him. Dat Thullid blood him taste of. Not Elf. That is no Elf. The Elf him was, died lang time past. That dair be a Thullid wearing an Elf skin."

"So? What do you want with a Thullid?"

"That be a Thullid and dere be a strong magic in dis one. As a Wizard, he be more powerful den Yis, Gibedon. I does no t’inks he knows it. Him be raging volcano of destruction waiting to explode. And I want him on my side when he goes off."

 From: BoomFuzzy

 “Because your father wants you to get married to one of the girls in your family, preferably all of your sisters, all at the same time, and sire lots of incestuous, inbred, pure blooded little Moon Elf babies and you are out here sitting on the front steps of the palace moping about it. That's why."

“Well, I'd like to get my mind off of my father and his plans for my life, so could you please, change the subject?"

“Okay. Let's see... Oh! I know. This'll cheer you up. You the one that's crazy ga-ga over candy right?"

"What?"

"You like candy, yes?"

“Yeah. I guess."

“Did you know there is a new shop in town?"

“Of course I don't. I rarely ever get into town. My father never let's me leave the palace, I might get infected with some non-Moon Elf friends and breath in some non-Moon Elf air. Or I might fall into bed with a non-Moon Elf and accidently create some evil half-Elves. You know what my father is like."

"Uhm... how do you fall into bed and accidently create evil half-Elves? You do know there's more to sex than that right?"

"I know how sex works BeaLuna. I just don't want to do it."

“Well, if you want to skip out on your father and come to town with me, I'll show you it. It's a real humdinger of a place. It's a candy shop. The freaking building is made out of gingerbread."

“Gingerbread?"

“Yep. It fell out of the sky one night....”

“Fell out of the sky?”

“Yeah, landed on somebody. Killed them."

"Somebody was killed by a gingerbread house falling out of the sky?"

"Yeah. Cool, huh?"

"Uhm... BeaLuna, are you feeling okay?"

"Right as peachy rain."

"You kind of ain't been acting yourself. Less so now. It's not like you to be joyful over death."

"It's the damned gingerbread. I've been eating it all morning. It makes my head feel weird, but than after it's like, watch out!"

"BeaLuna. Faeries use gingerbread to drug people."

"Cool!"

"No. It's not. Where is this gingerbread house?"

"Out by the edge of the forest."

 “BeaLuna? What forest? There is no forest. This is Ivujivik. Its Arctic Tundra. We’re only a few miles south of the North Pole. There’re no trees around here for hundreds of miles.”

“Well, whatever. The gingerbread house is directly outside the forest. Right on the threshold of it. The guy lives in a damned gingerbread house.”

“You mean like a cake?”

“Yeah. Exactly it’s a ginormous cake.”

“Who erects a shop out of cake?”

“He calls himself BoomFuzzy. Your father would love him. Would loathe the guts off him. He’s loony as hell. He’s a half-Elf. I don’t recognize what the other half of him is. Crazy as a fricking loon. Well, what do you expect from a guy who lives in a freaking cake? The guy’s a nut job fruitcake. Just like you. You should hear him talk. He’s got this bizarre frigging accent. He’s like someone from up North or something...”

“North of here? What’s North of the Deep North? We’re even further North than Santa Claus.”

“I see him out there every day, icing his roof or planting gumdrops in the flowerpots. He’s stark bonking mad. The guy’s crazy as heck. You’ll love him, he’s as nutty as you are. He throws caution to the wind. Says to hell with standard Elven conventions. He’s only been in town for a few days. Your father is going to have a royal fit when he finds out a half-Elf has moved into the village. I don’t know who’s more irresponsible, you or him. You’d love him. Come on, I’ll take you out there. You’ll love this guy, he’s as nutty as you are.”

Minutes later, Quaraun stood on the other side of the village. He was standing on the outskirts of the Frozen Forest. Standing in front of a house made of gingerbread.

The walls were made of soft, spongy, coppery brown gingerbread loaves, iced with light, fluffy, ivory coloured vanilla buttercream.

The windows formed of fragile, paper-thin, golden yellow honey comb sugar barley.

The door of brittle bittersweet peanut butter brickle.

The front path was dark chocolate-covered cherry pebbles, sprinkled with nonpareils.

The trees and bushes made of rainbow coloured lollipops and pink and blue cotton candy.

The scent was intoxicating.

Molasses. Anise. Clove. Vanilla.

Licorice. Horehound. Peppermint. Wormwood.

Quaraun saw what everybody else saw. He smelled what every one else smelled.

The sugar crystals sparkling in the dusky evening sunlight.

The glistening, shimmering glaze.

The fluffy whipped cream.

Quaraun closed his eyes. He remembered these scents. Not so very long ago. One the road to Ivujivik.

King Gwallmaiic.

The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

Quaraun could hardly think.

The scent of the beast’s breath, hair, and body was intoxicating.

Molasses.

Anise.

Clove.

Cinnamon.

Vanilla.

Licorice.

Horehound.

Peppermint.

Wormwood.

Gingerbread.

Cake.

Honey.

Sandalwood.

Patchouli.

Frankincense.

Myrrh.

Hashish.

Opium.

Poppies.

It was like being in a candy shop, next to a bakery, beside an opium house. Quaraun wanted to melt away in the glorious delights of the creature’s enticing fragrances.

Quaraun opened his eyes.

He was here.

King Gwallmaiic.

In the village.

The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley had invaded Ivujivik.

And no one had noticed.

They couldn’t see what he’d done.

The cake, the food, the candy, the gingerbread… it was drugged.

The whole village was drugged.

Drugs plagued the entire city.

Caught.

Trapped.

Decieved.

Imprisoned.

Ensnared by The Elf Eater.

He perceived what they were experiencing.

But he could also see the truth behind the lie.

The cakes and candies flickered and shimmered, twist and turn, the horrible, spectral shadow, over a dark, grim, wicked, gloomy, terrible, terrible reality. Like ghost shadows, they twinkleed and glowed in a dark.

Creepy shadows.

Scary cakes.

Fluffy cream.

“It’s not real,” Quaraun said the BeaLuna.

“What do you mean it’s not real?”

“It’s not real.”

“No? Looks real.”

“No, you are deceived, entrapped, ensnared.”

“Tastes real too.”

“Tastes?”

“Yeah.”

“You haven’t eaten any of it, have you?” Quaraun looked scared and sounded horrified.

“Of course. Why?”

“It’s drugged.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is.”

“You’re being paranoid again, Quaraun.”

“You can’t eat it.”

“Yeah, kind of too late for that. Almost everybody in the village has taken a bite out of his house. I did too.”

“Why?”

“It’s made out of gingerbread.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“It’s not it’s... it’s ghastly... it’s horrible... it’s made out of...”

“It’s gingerbread. It’s meant to be eaten. What else do you do with a gingerbread house?”

“Do you see a gingerbread house?”

“Yes, don’t you?”

“I... no... It’s not...”

Quaraun was very disturbed. Greatly troubled, by what he saw. And what BeaLuna and the rest of the villagers could not see. What he smelt verses what they could smell.

The others saw a gingerbread house. Quaraun saw the ruined remains of an ancient castle, long ago destroyed, and rebuilt out of bones.

Piles of crumbling ash grey stones, were littered around the edges.

All around the decadent dwelling, BeaLuna and the others saw trees exuding with lollipops. Quaraun saw monstrous dead oak trees, heavy laden with poison apricots. Dripping red with oozing blood. These were definitely not large plants enclosed in bark and shedding leaves. These were monsters in disguise.

The trees were not trees, but Fae beasts with brick red eyes and sharp white fangs.

All around the ruins, grew dead roses and bramble vines, thick with thorns, also oozing blood.

The chocolate stones were the heads and skulls of hundreds of dead Elves, their eyes gouged out.

Every bit of the house dripped in fresh blood.

The bone structure was lashed together with entrails.

A purplish black miasma mist hovered like a thick, dense, impenetrable, fog all around the evil place.

Quaraun knew immediately that the mist was toxic and had drugged the others.

Powerful dark ceremonial magic was controlling this strange place that had appeared at the edge of their village.

He looked back into the village.

The mist was wafting low along the streets, drifting into shops and houses.

Everyone was infected.

Quaraun reached out to pick an apricot from the nearest tree.

A chill swept through him as he touched the frozen fruit.

Liches.

The tree was a Lich.

 “He's not a candy maker. He's Necromancer," Quaraun muttered under his breath. He reached out to touch one of the bloody apricots. “Apricots don't grow on oak trees... or bleed Elf blood."

Quaraun quickly withdrew his hand from the bloody apricot.

It was cold.

Colder than cold.

Chilled, cool, crisp, frosty, cold.

Bitter, bleak, inhospitable, cold of death.

Death.

That’s what this was.

So much death.

Impenetrable doom.

Grim, dark, cold, deadly, airless death.

Dejected, depressed, deliberate, penetrating, glacial, cold.

Acrimonious, desolate, resentful, hostile, bleakness of the afterlife.

Afterlife. Immortality. Eternity. Undeath.

That’s what this breathed of.

So much death.

Impervious dread.

Death.

Bereavement of cessation.

Grisly, deep, bleak, bloody, stifling death.

Dim, fuzzy, dark, destructive, brutal death.

Cruel, cloudy, cold, destructive, smothering death.

Ghastly ominous, brusque, corpse-like, unstirring death.

Gruesome, sinister, inhospitable, deadly, oppressive death.

Horrid, heavy, desolate, dreary, murderous, suffocating death.

Death hung heavy in the air.

Liches.

Cold, icy, death.

The icy void of death wafted from the gingerbread house..

Ice crystals grew up from the dirt below his feet.

“It’s a Lich’s frost. There’s a Lich here.”

BeaLuna was still yapping happily about scrumptious gingerbread and tasty candy. She loved gingerbread and candy.

Several young Elflings from the village gathered around the gingerbread house, breaking pieces off of it and eating it. Blood dribbled from their smiling mouths as they gobbled down what to them looked like wonderful whipped cream cheese frosting.

Quaraun felt sick.

He tried very hard not to faint.

Or vomit. He could taste it in the back of his throat.

He silently told himself he must not faint.

He could see the reality behind the illusion. 

He knew that what they were eating was not gingerbread.

It was not the soft, moist, decedent, chewy, ooey, gooey goodness of warm, fragrant, heavy homemade spice cake that they were all convinced it was.

He knew that powerful dark magic was entrancing the villagers.

“Faeries,” Quaraun whispered to himself. This time out loud.

“What?” BeaLuna asked.

“Faeries.”

“Where?”

“Here!” Quaraun pointed to the horrific bloody building, but all BeaLuna saw was gingerbread. Like the others, she too had already eaten a piece of the house and was caught up in the spell.

“It’s an illusion. You’re all drugged by Fae food.”

“You’re talking crazy Quaraun.” 

“Think about it. It’s gingerbread. It fell out of the sky. It’s impossible. You can’t build a real house out of gingerbread.”

“Quaraun, I hate to disagree with you, but there it is. Big as life. A real live gingerbread house.”

“When did it get here?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“Weeks? You said a few days ago before.” 

“It just showed up one night. Kind of just fell out of the sky and landed here. Not long after you arrived, actually. In fact, the next day I think.”

“And you don’t think that’s strange?”

“No. Why should I?” 

“Houses don’t fall out of the sky.”

“Well, we did think it a little strange, at first, but I don’t know. It kind of grows on you.”

“But it’s not real.”

“No?” It was not BeaLuna who answered. “Is not no real, eh? Pray do tell me how me house is no be real,” asked a heavily accented Scottish voice behind him. “How does one tell iffy house be real or no, eh?”

 “I’m a Wizard,” Quaraun said, not looking to see who had spoken. He was too busy staring at the impossible cake dwelling, trying to determine what type of Faerie could cause such a potent spell that it had overtaken everyone in the village.

“No mony Wizards be able to see dat which can no be detected, taste dat which can no perceive, feels dat which has no ting to touch, sniffs dat which smell not as it is, what hears tings can no be heard, eh? Not even der great and powerful Wizards can do what is ya does. How does de pretty pink jelly brain Elf do it?”

“I have the gift of Faerie Sight...that’s not a real gingerbread house, it’s a Faerie glimm...”

 “Yis be de Moon Elf’s powerful Wizard, eh?”

“Yes,” Quaraun continued, staring at the house, and still not looking at its owner. “I’m the only Wizard around here. Wizardry is illegal in these parts. Finderu made laws to ban it.”

“Did he now?”

“Yes. Too many Moon Elves going off on greed infested, power trips and getting into Dark Arts and Blood Magic, so now no Moon Elf may use magic at all. Safer that way, he says.”

“Says who?”

“Finderu the Masked. He created The Guild of Wizardry. If you’re not a Guild member, they’ll hang you or behead you or both. Terribly regulated. Exceedingly coordinated. Dreadfully dominated.”

“Does ye be Guild member?”

“I am. But their meetings are boring. They talk about thing I don’t understand.”

“What does ya no understanding?”

“Mathematics. Science. Equations. Star charts. Planetary movements. Religion. Philosophy. Theology. They write up rules ad vote on laws. It’s all dreadfully dull and boring. I can’t understand how to use numbers. I don’t the meanings of half the stuff they say. The whole thing confuses me. Gives me time to embroider while they argue. I only go to look at their hair.”

“Look at hair? What for ya do dat?”

“I like long hair. The Wizards all have long hair.”

“Yis seem to has lost yars.”

“Yes.”

Quaraun nervously fluttered his fingers through his short hair. He wanted to cry. He’d been crying most of the morning.

Quaraun felt naked without his long hair. He had not cut it since he was born.

Never.

Not once.

Not ever.

Quaraun began trembling. The current lack of his hair was extremely upsetting for him.

Had BeaLuna not brought Quaraun to see the gingerbread house, he’d likely be in the tower slicing his wrists, right now. A common pastime for Quaraun, when he could not brush his hair.

Quaraun had a developed a dangerous habit of self harm since his arrival in the Moon Elf village. Quaraun’s mind was already a frail thing, but now depression sunk in on top of the original mental deficits.

Quaraun was not smart, and he was painfully aware of this. The other Moon Elves took great delight in rubbing this fact in his face. Since his return back to Ivujivik, what little self esteem he possessed, had plummeted. He was teased, beaten, bullied, and belittled daily, hourly, nightly, at every turn by every Elf. But most especially by his father.

“My father cut it off. I’m not happy about it.” Quaraun chocked back the tears as he said this. He had even greater trouble chocking back the desire to strangle his father to death. Rage burned in Quaraun’s heart, over his father’s chopping off his lovely mega long silvery hair.

“Why him do dat?”

“He said I’m supposed to be his son, not his daughter. He also says Wizards are evil and I’m not allowed to be one. I’m just waiting for him to drop dead so I can go back to living my own life as I choose.”

“Ah. How be it ya come to live with Di’Jinn, then?”

“My uncle. The King. He sent me there. My mother wanted me to be a Wizard. So he hired a Di’Jinn to come here and train me...”

“De King did?”

“Yes. But my father killed her...” Quaraun’s voice seethed with rage as he thought of the day his mother died. The more he thought of his father, the more he wanted to kill him. Quaraun’s fists clenched.

“Who him kill? Ya mother or de priest?”

"My mother. The priest was a Thullid. And was going to kill me and the Di'Jinn priest as well. So the King sent me away with the priest and he took me back to his temple in Persia. I grew up in Persia with the Di'Jinn. I'm kind of having trouble getting along with the Moon Elves. I was taught how to live like an Elf. I spent most of my time with Humans when not with Thullids. The Thullids raised me. But they lived in a heavily populated area between several large Human cities. I get along with Humans better than Elves. I've only been back here a few weeks and I've not been getting along well with them. They are very strict here. They like conformity. Individual expression is not well looked up. I'm radical and free spirited according to most every one in the village."

"What ya doing here wid Elves than?"

"The King is old and ill. They think he'll die in a few more years, and so they decided it was time for me to learn how to be an Elf, before he he dies."

"What King dying to do wid ya?"

"I'm heir to the throne."

"Is ya not the younger brother's son?"

"Yes. But the King has no sons. So, I'm next in line."

"So yi'll be King soon?"

"Yes. But I don't want to be. I don't like it here. It's cold. And they won't let me wear pink and they cut my hair and I'm not allowed to be a wizard and embroidery is sinful..."

"Embroidery is sinful?"

"Yes. It's not allowed. Only abstract designs. Swirls. Paisley. I sew designs from live on dresses. Birds. Hearts. JellyFish..."

"JellyFish?"

"Yes."

"Why JellyFish?"

"I like JellyFish. They are my favorite animals. So beautiful. And pink. Lovely tentacles, that look like long hair flowing behind them as they swim. I miss having tentacles. It's why I have ling hair. It's like having tentacles again. I hate that he cut my hair. I miss swimming with them."

"Swimming wid dem?"

"Yes."

"Wid de Pink JellyFish?"

"Yes."

"Dey no from dis planet. From planet much far away."

"I know. I miss them. The planet is gone. It was destroyed. Our sun blew up and took the planet with it. I'm the last one."

"De last Pink JellyFish."

"Yes. I'm trapped in this Elf. I don't mind being him. Not if I can wear pink and grow my hair long to flow in the wind, like swimming in the ocean."

"Ya miss being free, outside of ya host."

"Yes."

"I see."

"Why ya go to Guild meetings iffy ya no allowed to do magic?"

"The King let's me be a Wizard. Finderu says I'm the only Moon Elf allowed to be a Wizard."

"Why?"

"My father’s the younger brother of the King. It’s the only reason they allow it with me. It’s the only thing I’m good at.”

"Magic?"

"Yes."

“Magic, only ting yis good at, eh?”

“Yes.”

“Be dat ya own lack of self-confidence talking or is it dey bully ya to tinks dat?”

“Both.”

“Ah! Is ya not de one what weave de silk und blow de glass?”

“I am, but they don’t allow it here.”

“No?”

“I weave Thullid silk.”

“So?”

“It’s pink.”

“Und dis problem, aye?”

“Yes. In case you hadn’t noticed, pink clothes are forbidden around here.”

“Aye. I had noticed ya were no wearing ya pretty petal pink frocks today. Never seen ya in de bleary blue before.”

“Blue is the only colour anyone is allowed to wear.”

“De Gnome, she no wear blue.”

“BeaLuna? She doesn’t live here. Visits from Kuujjuaraapik, the next town over, sort of. It’s South of here. By the Great Whale River. Near where the Cree set camp.”

“What for Flower Gnome doth way up here where dair be no blooms grow?”

“I don’t know. Her family lives up here.”

 “I’m an Orchid Gnome,” BeaLuna said between mouthfuls of saltwater taffy. “Squaw Flowers are everywhere up here. Only part of the world they grow in. Lady Slipper Orchids are nearing extinction. It’s our job to make them not go extinct. They are one of the few flowers that can grow up here in the Arctic Tundra. It is very rare. We help them grow.”

“Ah! Pussy Flowers.”

“What?”

“Pink pussies, growing on a delicate green cock stem.”

“You’re vulgar, aren’t you?”

“Always. Ya like me house?”

“There is no house, it’s nothing but...”

Quaraun turned to see a strange looking half-Elf standing incredibly uncomfortably close to him.

Dreadfully close.

Too close.

Much too close.

He had no sense of the concept of personal space whatsoever.

It was very un-Elf-like of him.

Had the creature been a little taller, they would have hit noses.

The incredible closeness with which the creature had come to him, without his realizing he was there, caught Quaraun off guard.

No one was able to get close to him.

No, except for King Gwallmaiic, back there on the road to Ivujivik... that night... Quaraun shivered. He longed to be back on the road that night.

Back in the tent.

Back in King Gwallmaiic’s arms.

Back in King Gwallmaiic’s bed.

He needed King Gwallmaiic.

He wanted King Gwallmaiic.

Quaraun shook himself out of his lustful thoughts for the evil Faerie King. He needed to clear his head of his lust for the Phooka. Stay in the here and now of the mysterious gingerbread house. And it’s owner who was standing uncomfortably too close to him.

He picked up on anyone entering his personal space, before they could get within several feet of him.

A feeling of dread ran through Quaraun, as he realized, only an extremely powerful Wizard could have broken through his barrier undetected like this.

Quaraun took several steps back. He stared at the creature, trying to see through it's glimmer spell, but the magic around the creature was too strong, and Quaraun saw partly what the creature wanted him to see and partly what he really was.

What Quaraun saw looked like a pure white albino Moon Elf, with massive frizzy clouds of snow white afro dreadlocks, small thin black almond shaped eyes with no colour and no whites, several dozen rows of long pointy piranha-like fangs protruding over his lips, and fearsome razor sharp gleaming black eagle talons 4 inches long on the tip of every finger. He was dressed in a long chocolate brown velvet cassock with tiny red buttons resembling red hot candies, down the front, and white piped trim around the edges. He looked like a tiny snow monster wearing a gingerbread man costume.

"Who are you?"

"BoomFuzzy. Candy maker. Pastry Chef. I cook Elves."

"You mean you cook for Elves?"

"No. I cook Elves. Elves is delicious. Lovely served with gingerbread stuffing."

“It's worse then Faeries."

“We does be worse den Fae? What be?" BoomFuzzy asked.

“You're a trickster."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"What make ya says it?"

"I can sense it."

"Can ya now?"

"I know you."

"Aye. Better than most."

"Why are you here?"

“If wishes were horses we'd'll ride."

“What?"

“Ye wished for horny horse."

“No I didn't."

“Aye, ya did. For here We does be."

“I did not wish for you.”

“Yis a Di'Jinn. Granting wishes be what ya do.”

“When did I wish for you?"

“Not more den wee lil hour ago. Ye wished for someone to take yar wee lil problem away. And meer seconds ago, ye were wishing to be in me bed, back on the road to Ivujivik."

 “Did you make a wish, Quaraun?" BeaLuna asked.

“I..."

“You're a Di'Jinn, you know better then to go around wishing for stuff. You make wishes happen, but with consequences."

Quaraun ignored the Gnome and addressed the candy making Necromancer.

“I didn't wish for you."

“A wish once granted can'na be undoed," BoomFuzzy warned.

“I didn't wish for you."

“Quaraun, what did you wish for exactly?" BeaLuna asked.

“Among od’er tings him did wish for ye to shut ya wee lil trap."

“What?"

“Does ya remember what ye wished for, me luscious wee lil Elf?"

Quaraun, stood very silent. He couldn't remember what he had said.

“What ye exact wurds were? How ye wurded ye wish, dat ye now finds yeself granted wid?"

Quaraun sighed and shook his head. He remembered what he'd wished for and he knew immediately who this was.

“Ah, ya remembers, eh?"

“What?" BeaLuna looked back and forth between Quaraun and the grinning candy maker.

“The soldiers were saying this morning, the Elf Eater of Pepper Valley was seen in the area. I wished they would come here and eat my father and everyone who hurt me."

“You what?"

“I wasn't thinking."

“And that brought a nut with a gingerbread house here?"

“It brought a horny nut wid a gingerbread house here. Him wish were longer more den what him did just said.”

The candy maker picked the apricot Quaraun had touched. Blood poured from it's wounded branch. As he ate the fruit, blood gushed from it's broken flesh. But only Quaraun saw this. BeaLuna and the other Elves only saw a fluffy tree heavy laden with pink cotton candy leaves and lollipop fruit.

“Are you a chef?”

“Aye. Food is sex. Every one likes sex.”

“I don't like sex.”

“Every one likes food. When We does make me food, We does want to make people feel like dey just had great sex.”

Quaraun looked beyond the village to the valley around it.

It was gone.

The entire valley, the mountains, the green meadows, they were all gone, replaced by vast forests of mega tall pine trees towering hundreds of feet over the village, and stretching out around the valley or miles of every side.

“Ya can sees me Forest of No Return, We does sees, eh? Lovely isn't it?" BoomFuzzy gestured towards the trees. “No one goes in and no one goes out."

“It's a Faerie Forest."

“Aye. We does take it wid me, wherevers We does go."

“Horses."

“What?" BeaLuna looked out at the edge of the valley. It was still as it always was. She saw nothing different. “What are you looking at?"

“A vast herd of little black horses. Thousands of them. They've surrounded the entire valley. Evil black, flesh eating Faerie Horse with gleaming silver horns."

“Unicorns?"

“Phookas. We've been surrounded by King Gwallmaiic's Army. The Elf Eater's of Pepper Valley. They're here. They followed me. They followed me all the way from Persia. I saw them in the desert of the Di'Jinn too."

“You're always seeing unicorns Quaraun. They aren't real you know."

“I didn't wish for you."

“Yis very pretty, wish granting Di'Jinn," the creature said in Quaraun's jewelled ear, as he once again stepped too close for Quaraun's comfort. “Ya wished for de Moon Elves to die, ya faddah to be eaten, and me to finish what We does started on de road back dere, when we meet up wheen days outside of de village. For me pretty lil' Elf, We does be more den happy to grant ye all t'ree dems wishes."

Quaraun at 5'6" was the shortest of the male Moon Elves, but the owner of the gingerbread house was several inches shorter then Quaraun, and had to stand on tip-toe to try to talk to Quaraun on an even level.

And he did exactly that, but stepped right up onto Quaraun's feet, before doing so. The Faerie was dressed like a Wizard, in dark brown chocolate coloured velvet robes, with a cockscomb hat of the same material perched on his head.

At a first glance, BoomFuzzy looked like any other Moon Elf, with his pure white skin and hair that made him blend in with the snow. Until that is, one looked at his eyes.

Moon Elves all had pale icy whitish blue eyes. BoomFuzzy's black eyes had no whites and no iris, and were like staring into two black bottomless pits.

And his hair.

Moon Elves all had stick straight, silken smooth, silvery white hair. But BoomFuzzy had a wild mess of unbrushed frizzy braids and dreadlocks that were stuck full of bones, feathers, beads, ribbons, and twigs.

There was also the issue of his piranha-like fangs, and the huge, fearsomely, sharp black eagle talons which tipped each finger.

A Human, a Gnome, or a Dwarf might have mistaken him for an Elf, even other Elves might have passed him off as a half-Elf, but Quaraun was a Wizard.

A powerful Wizard.

And he could sense strong magic around this un-Elf.

Faerie Glamour.

Quaraun could see behind the spell. He knew what the others saw, but he could see the truth.

BoomFuzzy.

No.

Not BoomFuzzy.

BoomFuzzy wasn't real.

BoomFuzzy was an illusion.

A mask worn by the Faerie King.

This was King Gwallmaiic.

Quaraun was sure of it.

While most Phookas were content to remain in a single form, never changing, King Gwallmaiic, was a shape shifter with many forms, and shifted daily, sometimes hourly changing bodies the way a woman changed dresses. He could and often did look like any one of any race he wanted to be.

In his true form, he was a horse.

A Phooka.

A shape-shifting Kelpie.

An evil, blood-thirsty, brackish water Fae.

An evil black unicorn with a gleaming silver horn.

Quaraun could see this. He could see behind the half-Elf was a black unicorn. Like a holograph he shimmered back and forth between the monster Quaraun had seen on the road, the man whom had raped in the following night, the pony in the desert of the Di'Jinn, and now the albino candy maker.

He was all of them. And Quaraun could see them all. Flickering. Blinking. The body the old shape shifter wore the on the road to Ivujivik, was the one Quaraun recognized from The Guild's wanted posters. He looked like a dark skinned Human, with a wild mess of black unbrushed frizzy braids and dreadlocks that hung to his waist and were stuck full of bones, feathers, beads, ribbons, and twigs.

In each form, the hair was the same. Even the pony's mane had been the same. Quaraun stared, mesmerized at the Phooka’s wild hair. Massive, unbrushed frizzy braids and dreadlocks that hung to his waist and were stuck full of bones, feathers, beads, ribbons, and twigs. All marks of Scottish Hoodoo Cloutie Magic.

Such beautiful hair. This Phooka’s hair stopped Quaraun in his tracks, and left the Elf unable to think or move or even remember why he had come to see the building at all.

Quaraun with his lustful obsessive fetish for hair, was mesmerized by BoomFuzzy's glorious, massive, wild, unruly, ropes and cords of think, woollen locks.

Quaraun suddenly burned with the desire to run his fingers through the Phooka's hair.

He wanted to brush his own hair.

But Quaraun's long hair was gone.

Cut off, by a brutal evil man, who declared long hair a sin.

Brutally cut off while royal guards had held him down.

Quaraun ran his fingers through his short chopped off hair.

He cringed at the feel of it.

Quaraun had not cut his hair in 70 years. And now it was gone.

Anger burned in his chest,

Rage filled his mind.

He wanted nothing more than to kill the man whom had done this. Kill the man whom had cut off his long wonderful hair.

Minus his own long hair, Quaraun now lusted dreadfully for BoomFuzzy's hair. In his heart, he cursed his father and glorified BoomFuzzy.

“BoomFuzzy,” the Moon Elf whispered.

The hair was distinctive. While most Faeries were known to have wild, unbrushed hair, Faeries were very obsessive in sticking to rigid rituals. The career of a Fae could be identified by the style of their hair. Items woven into their braids, told the onlooker what their job was. Even a shape shifter would not style their hair differently when looking like someone else.

A Phooka might change form to look like your mother, but you would be able to tell your mom from the Phooka, by the messy hair. You would wonder why your mom had suddenly taken to styling strange plaits of red ribbons in her hair.

No matter the form he took, King Gwallmaiic always kept his hair, exactly the same. The black unicorn. BoomFuzzy the half-Elf candy maker. The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. Quaraun had seen all three and all three had the exact same hair. Even the little black unicorn, his mane and tail had been King Gwallmaiic’s natural hair.

Quaraun stared at the Phooka sitting before him and recognized the bits of brick a brack in the Phooka's hair as Cloutie Magic immediately. That marked the Phooka as magic user, a wizard of some sort.

A Necromancer.

BoomFuzzy.

BoomFuzzy’s hair.

King Gwallmaiic.

The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

The same bones.

The same braids.

Strips of grey and purple wool, woven into the braids to make them bigger, thicker, wilder.

The thing which startled Quaraun, though he refused to admit it, was not the presence of the Phooka, but rather the Phooka's eyes. Those strange haunting pupiless black eyes which Quaraun knew so well.

The little black pony from desert of the Di'Jinn.

My unicorn.

BoomFuzzy.

Quaraun had seen the pony dozens of times throughout his life time. The evil Unicorn had followed him for centuries. Several times Quaraun had tried to catch it, but it always ran away. Timid, skittish, the little black Unicorn had liked to run up behind the Elf, then run away laughing hysterically. In his childhood, Quaraun had grown to think of the Unicorn as his friend. Then one day, the Unicorn came to play, no more. Weeks passed and Quaraun had feared the Unicorn dead. After several months, one day while running errands for the Di'Jinn, Quaraun found himself in a desert marketplace, passing a tent, in which he had heard the mournful cries of a horse being beaten. Inside the tent, he had found his little black Unicorn, crippled and maimed. His horn sawed off, his legs broken, shackled in Faerie Iron, and blood pouring from his gasping mouth.

To capture a Phooka was a difficult task, but this band of Chaos Demons, the Ghoul's men, had set a trap, a virgin locked in a cage made of Faerie Iron, and once they got the pony inside, he was powerless to break free. The evil Unicorn had been tortured and was close to death. A Unicorn's power lay in it's horn. Without his horn, the horse was unable to morph, unable to fight, unable to cast illusions. Quaraun had wasted no time in rescuing the injured pony and setting it free, back out into the desert of the Di'Jinn, but from that day forth, the pony never stopped following him. Every day the pony now stayed outside the temple of the Di'Jinn and waited for the little Elfling to come out and play.

The Thullid, did not understand the Elf's need for companionship. They did not understand, the friendship between the young Elf boy and his horse. And one day, when he went to meet his pony by the river, Quaraun found the Di'Jinn waiting.

The ponies fled in terror but few escaped the wrath of the Di'Jinn and the black Unicorn watched in terror as the Thullids slaughtered his Phookan army.

The young Elf stood over the dead ponies in tears.

With the herd of ponies dead, the Thullids turned upon the little black Unicorn, that led the herd, but didn't live long enough to kill him.

“You'll not kill my Unicorn!”

They were the last words the Thullids heard.

The Unicorn watched as every last Di'Jinn withered away and died in horrific agony, their body's bursting into flames, and reduced to ash, under the wrath of their beloved pink Jellyfish living in the body of a very lonely Moon Elf. The Thullids had underestimated the powers of the Jelly-brained Elf, as much as they had underestimated his love for the little black Unicorn.

All life in the desert was gone, save a small Elf wearing pink Thullid silks and a tiny black Unicorn, no bigger then a goat. The dazed and confused Elf turned around and walked out of the desert, and walked clear across the planet, making his way back home to the Moon Elf village of the Deep North, while the Phooka gathered up what little remained of his army and trailed along behind.

BoomFuzzy.

BoomFuzzy was my unicorn.

My little black unicorn, returned to me.

I've found you again.

No matter what form, Gwallmaiic took, two things about him never changed: his massive wave of frizzy dreadlocks filled with Cloutie ribbons and his gleaming, almond shaped black eyes. Regardless of any other racial features, white skin, black skin, tan skin, brown skin, red skin, yellow skin, gold skin, BoomFuzzy's eyes made him look Asian.

As a Moon Elf, BoomFuzzy had resembled more of a Half-Elf, appeared to be half Chinese Human. Mongolian, BoomFuzzy had called it. He had lived in Mongolia for many years, long before Quaraun was born. Quaraun had always found BoomFuzzy's eyes hypnotic.

Quaraun's stunned response to this creature, was the fact that, while it looked nothing like BoomFuzzy, at the same time, it looked everything like BoomFuzzy, had BoomFuzzy's eyes and BoomFuzzy's passion for dreadlocks filled with random items.

BoomFuzzy's black demonic eyes had no whites and no iris, and were like staring into two black bottomless pits. He could have passed for a Moon Elf if not for his eyes, his piranha-like fangs, and the huge, fearsomely, sharp eagle talons which tipped each finger. He was otherwise no different from any other albino white Moon Elf, except that instead of smooth straight silver hair, his white hair had grown in massive clouds of frizz that he kept dreaded with bones and grey and purple wool.

This Phooka, looked so much like BoomFuzzy, except, he looked like a dark skinned Human with black dread locks instead of a white skinned Moon Elf with white dreadlocks. His black eyes had no whites and no iris, and were like staring into two black bottomless pits.

The Phooka could have passed for Human if not for his eyes, his piranha-like fangs, and the huge, fearsomely, sharp eagle talons which tipped each finger. He was dressed head to toe in a miss-matched patchwork of mostly black and dark brown furs, mostly skins in their natural forms with heads and legs still attached.

Quaraun shock himself and stepped back, blinking, looking around.

No.

No. I've lost my unicorn. This is not him.

This is a Phooka.

Phookas can see into your mind.

Read your thoughts.

They know what you think.

They know wat you feel.

They give you whatever you want.

Let you see whatever you want to see.

No.

This wasn't real.

It couldn't be.

It can't be.

It mustn't be.

Quaraun could not trust his eyes.

He could not trust what he saw.

This was a powerful Phooka.

The gingerbread.

Quaraun turned back to the gingerbread house.

It isn't real.

It can't be real.

The castle. The black forest.

He couldn't see them any more.

The gingerbread house had taken full form in his mind.

He could no longer see past the illusion.

BoomFuzzy.

BoomFuzzy. What have you done?

Faerie magic.

What was real? What was not?

He did not know.

He could not tell.

Quaraun was always so sure of everything.

He was Fae Sighted. He could see through a Faerie's spell.

Now he was not.

A Phooka had clouded his mind.

A powerful Phooka.

A lich.

A Necromancer.

King Gwallmaiic.

The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

Quaraun felt faint.

Dizzy. And faint.

The world around him spun out of control.

There was no doubt in Quaraun's mind that this was a shape shifting Trickster Fae.

He was caught in a trap.

Caught in a Faerie's spell.

The gingerbread.

It was the gingerbread house.

He had to get away from it.

Faerie magic all around.

Faerie food.

Faerie drugs.

Must focus.

Must break free.

Quaraun pushed the creature off of him and backed away again.

“Apricot?"

The Phooka in Elf disguise handed Quaraun an apricot.

“I hate Faeries,” Quaraun whispered under his breath.

“Who said anyt'ing aboot Faeries?" The tiny Elf-glimmoured Faerie asked.

“You are a Faerie."

Quaraun took the fruit without thinking and took a bite out of it.

“No one else is be t’inking so."

“No one else is Faerie sighted and able to see through Faerie glimmer spells."

Quaraun turned back to the house and tried to see what the others saw. When he finally saw it, he did have to admit he was intrigued by the gingerbread house. Illusion or not it was quite a spectacular feat to have built it.

“That is an amazing house."

“Yis a beautiful Elf."

BoomFuzzy ran his fingers through Quaraun's hair, stopping to rest on the ear that was still healing from the rings having been torn from it.

“That must have hurt."

“It did."

“What happened?"

“A Phooka bit me."

“What a fucking shame."

“What do you do when it rains? A gingerbread house isn't gonna hold out water."

“A moment ago ya did no sees me wee gingerbread shoppie."

The Faerie moved closer to Quaraun again, this time running his fingers down the Elf's face.

“Most Elves like candy. Ye like apricots.”

BoomFuzzy handed Quaraun another apricot.

“Does ya ever gets much rain up here in de Deep North?"

“Sometimes. Not very often. Snow will be a bigger problem. Snow is heavy, it'll collapse the roof."

“We does t'oughts ya saids me house was no real?"

“I did."

“Sos does it not be reasonable to tink rain and snow will no boders it, eh?"

“You talk strange."

“Does We does? Apricot?"

The Faerie handed him a third apricot. Quaraun took that as well.

“You do. You talk very strange. What are you?"

“Moment gone passed ya saids We does be Faerie. Ya svá mentioned Phookas and eating ye faddah. Ya Gnome says We does be a Elf. We is BoomFuzzy."

“You have claws."

BoomFuzzy looked down at his hands.

“Three apricots und ya still sees claws? Yis a powerful Wizard."

“You're not from around here are you?"

“No, We does comes from de East. We does grews up on de coast. Wid de ocean. And salt water taffy. Does ya like candy?" BoomFuzzy handed Quaraun a box of salt water taffy.

“I don't eat Faerie food." Quaraun put his hands behind his back and stepped away from the unElf.

 “No? Apricot? Who says anyt'ing abouts Fae food?"

Quaraun took the forth apricot.

“You're a Faerie. One must never take food from Faeries."

“Really? Apricot?”

Quaraun took the fifth apricot and kept on talking.

“Faeries drug their food."

"Aye. Und who but yis be speak o Fae?"

"It's how they get their spells to work. How they trick people into thinking they are powerful."

"But dey no be powerful, no, eh?"

"No. Fae are not as powerful magically as other beings are, so they use drugs to get into people's heads and make them see things that are not there. Faerie chefs are worst then most, especially candy makers. They make their candy out mushrooms and frogs and poppies.”

“We does be Elf.”

“You're a Faerie.”

“Ah, and how does de pretty one come to dat conclusion?"

“I am Faerie Sighted," Quaraun said once again, feeling oddly dizzy and realizing the miasmic fog was having an effect on him.

“Are ya now?"

“Yes. Fae illusions don't work on me."

“What do ya see when ya look at me?"

“What do the others see?"

BoomFuzzy turned to BeaLuna. She was busying breaking off pieces of the gingerbread house and eating it.

“What does ya see when ya looks at me?"

“What do you mean, what do I see?" BeaLuna was confused by the question.

“Does We does looks not unlike a Moon Elf to ya?"

“Yep. Why?"

BoomFuzzy turned back to Quaraun, bringing his face close to the Elf's and stroking his cheek while he spoke, his lips brushing against Quaraun's face.

“But We does no looks like a Moon Elf to ya?"

“No. You have claws, like an eagle's talons."

BoomFuzzy held up his hand and looked at his fingers. BeaLuna questioned this action, for his short trimmed, well groomed finger nails looked no different then those of any other Moon Elf.

“Does ya see claws on me hands?"

BoomFuzzy ran the tips of his razor sharp claws down Quaraun's face and smiled a wicked, evil grin, as the claws passed over the Elf's throat.

“Yes. They are each several inches long."

“Quaraun, you're mad," BeaLuna scolded. “He doesn't have any claws."

“Yes. He does. Talons, actually. And razor sharp by the feel of them."

Quaraun cringed as the claws traced a line down his throat and across his collarbone.

“You'll have to excuse him," BeaLuna said to BoomFuzzy. “He's always doing that. Seeing things that aren't there. He's crazy. We try to ignore it and humour him. It's generally best if you just go along with him and pretend to see whatever it is he's seeing."

“Ya often see t'ings dat ain't no dere, Pretty One?" BoomFuzzy asked Quaraun as he began kissing the Elf's cheek, while running his claws down the Elf's chest to his belly.

“I... no... I... I'm always seeing things no one else can see. Can you... stop... touching me?"

“Yeah," BeaLuna agreed. “He sees all kinds of stuff. Unicorns and stuff too."

“Unicorns? Really?" BoomFuzzy smiled. “Does ya like unicorns, Pretty Elf? I shall remember dat. Oh we can has fun wid Unicorns."

BoomFuzzy continued tracing a line down Quaraun with his claws, stopping to trace circles around his genitals.

“Yes... No... I like the idea of unicorns. Real unicorns are evil. Faerie horses. They kill people with their horns and eat them, prance around with the skulls on their horns like trophies. Unicorns are pretty though. Please stop touching me."

“Ever been fucked by a unicorn?"

“What?"

“We does loves unicorns. They do be a favourite hobby of mine. Eating dem. They's pretty darned near as tasty as Elves be."

“You eat Elves?"

 “We does loves Elves. Especially de aristocratic High Elves. Their pampered, fancy sugary diets of sweets and pastries, all dat candy dey eats, creates a wonderful buttery fat on deir bones. The Christmas Elves are best. Stuffed full of sugar cookies and candy canes. They lack de wild gamy flavor of Wood Elves. Wood Elves for supper and Moon Elves for desert, Christmas Elves served wid hot fudge and French vanilla ice cream, wid luscious baked menagerie topping. Not'ing better."

“But you eat Elves?"

“If ya ever decides ya wants to be fucked by a Unicorn, We can arrange for dat to happen."

“Why would I want to be fucked by a Unicorn?"

“Do ya knows how big a stallion's cock be?"

“I... what?"

"I can make mine any size I wants it to be. Or has more than one."

"More than one what?"

"Dicks? Nothing like being a double-dicked Unicorn, eh?"

"You are fowl mouthed."

"Am I? I never noticed."

Quaraun was trying to concentrate on what BoomFuzzy was saying, but the effects of the drugged apricots were clouding his mind, and the fact that BoomFuzzy had just slipped his hand inside Quaraun's robe and was running is fingers in circular motions on the Elf's belly, was distracting him.

“Of course dere be not'ing like ramming a unicorn horn up ya wee lil ass."

“You're insane."

“Aye. We does is. Haha!

“Yeah, I can tell...

“And We does likes unicorns. We would loves to fuck ya wid a unicorn's horn."

“I... I..."

“And now We does has gone and put dirty images in ya wee lil head. We does can sees ya tinking about what it might feel like to be fucked by a unicorn. Haha! Ya wants to be fucked by a unicorn."

The candy maker slid his hand down between the Elf's legs and had begun fondling Quaraun.

“I do not want to be fucked by a unicorn."

“Ya cock says ya do."

BoomFuzzy took a tight grip of the Elf's erect cock as he said this.

Quaraun gasped.

He had not expected BoomFuzzy to do that, nor was he certain he wanted BoomFuzzy to stop doing it.

BoomFuzzy let go of Quaraun and turned his attention back to the Gnome.

“Does de Gnome want to be fucked by a unicorn?" BoomFuzzy asked BeaLuna.

“What? No!" BeaLuna looked horrified by the thought. “Why would you ask that?"

“Oh, We does asks everybody dat. We does likes to watch de expressions on deys faces. Ya'd be surprised how mony people actually likes de idea and asks me to find dems a unicorn willing to fuck dem. Which We can alwaies do. Ooooh! Ya can gets all de sex ye wants from unicorns. Watching deir faces whiles de unicorn be fucking dem, dat be even better. Best part of all t'ough be watching deir faces, as de unicorn slices deir heads off wid it's pretty shiny silver horn and den dances in deir entrails, squishing blood all over his purple hooves, den skewering deir heads on me horn and dancing naked in de moonlight."

“By the gods! You're mad!" BeaLuna stared at BoomFuzzy, uncertain if he was joking or not. “What kind of a mind thinks thoughts like that?"

“What kind of a sick mind gets horny whist listening tos me saysing t'oughts like dat, eh?"

“No one normal, that's for sure!"

“Well den, ya wee lil Elf friend here, he ain't normal den, because me wurds be making him horny as heck over here. Haha!"

“Quaraun, we should go," BeaLuna said. “This guy's loony, and your father will be wondering where you got to and I'm gonna ruin my dinner if I eat any more of this house."

“Oh take some house wid ya. We does has plenty more. So mony Elves round here. So much lovely buttery sweet Elf flesh to eat. Melt like butter off the bone. So succulent. Than plenty of bones to grind to flour. Make me more gingerbread. Me never meet an Elf who could resist BoomFuzzy's gingerbread. Elves do love dair drugs. Nothing tastier dan High Elves high on hashish. Gingerbread brownies for the road?”

BoomFuzzy handed Quaraun a box of said drugged confections.

“I... don't really want to leave yet."

 “What? Why?"

“I like BoomFuzzy. He's..."

"Hims having too much fun wid me playing wid him dick," BoomFuzzy said to the Gnome. "Run along BeaLuna, we've a lusty lil Elf to play with."

"Quaraun, let's go."

"No, I like BoomFuzzy. He's very strange. And familiar. Like someone I met on the road to Ivujivik. Wearing a new skin."

"What are you talking about?"

"King Gwallmaiic."

"King Gwallmaiic? The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley?"

"Yes."

"BoomFuzzy reminds you of King Gwallmaiic?"

"Yes. Moon Elf or not, he's breath of fresh air, around all these stuffy, stuck up, arrogant Moon Elves who I really don't like living with."

“They lives by de fear dat de devil will chop off dems head."

“Elves don't believe in devils."

“Wood Elves do. They believe dey be black devils lurking behind every tree waiting to rip out deir entrails and suck de blood from deir dying carcasses."

BoomFuzzy moved closer to Quaraun once again, though Quaraun wondered how that was possible, the Phooka was already so close to him. BoomFuzzy ran his fingers down the Elf's face.

“Yis such a pretty Elf. We doeses never seen a Elf as pretty as yis before. We would love to bed wid ya."

BoomFuzzy was close enough now that Quaraun could feel the warmth of the candy maker's erection pressing against him.

“I bed with no one."

“Really? Not even Faerie kings on the road Ivujivik? Aye. Yis a Di'Jinn. Ya're de Phooka loving, virgin Wizard We does been looking fors."

“Yeah," BeaLuna said. “He's a virgin. Joined up wid some group dat believes virginity is power and absolutely refuses to have sex wid any one."

“Oh, my! What a fuckingly dreadful life. Dear oh dear oh dear. How does ya stand it?"

“I don't like sex."

"That not what We does recall. We recall ya very much enjoying being fucked un wanting more of it.”

“I most certainly did not!”

“Two days ago.”

“It wasn’t two days ago.”

“What? De sex ya did no enjoy hasing?”

BoomFuzzy grinned.

“Stop confusing me!”

“Has ya ever had sex?"

“No. I'm a virgin. It means I've never had sex."

“Yeah. Yad tink it does does it not? Strange lil brain ya got. Ya does no remember much from one day to de next do ya?”

“Quaraun?” BeLuna answered. “He’s absent minded. He’d lose his head if it wasn’t attached.”

“Well now. We does no want to be losing t’at now does we, eh?”

“He can’t remember things, wicked fierce. Tell him something, 10 minutes later it’s like he never heard you.”

“Ya really can’na remember one dae ta da next, eh?”

“No,” Quaraun said. “Weird short term memory. I don’t remember a thing I did last week.”

“So ya might not be virgin un ya would na knows it, eh?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“How come dat, eh?”

“There’s a JellyFish living in my head. It ate my brain.”

“Yeeaaah,” BeaLuna said to BoomFuzzy. “About that. He’s kind of crazy. Got drop on his head too many times as a baby.”

“Then de great Quaraun de Insane, really is insane, yes?”

“I don’t like being called insane.”

“What would ya have me call ya den? The village idiot? That suit ye better?”

“Why can’t you just call me Quaraun?”

“How come for can’na ya just tak wi ya like being fucked by horses?”

“I...” Quaraun was caught off guard by that statement and couldn’t think of a response.

The half-Elf reached up to take hold of the collar of Quaraun's coat, then made no secret of staring at the Elf's crotch.

“Ha, ha. Then how does ya knows iffy ya likes sex or not, when ya can’na remembers iffy yas had it or not? Hmmm? Ya certainly enjoying de attention ya getting from me right nows.”

“I... I don't know."

Quaraun was trying to remember through the clouds of apricots that were fogging his brain. Part of him was remembering the pleasure he'd felt when the Phooka had raped him and part of him was losing all of his memories of everything. BoomFuzzy was looking less Phooka and more Elf and the bloody mansion was looking more sugary and colourful, less bloody, more gingerbready. The big pine trees were melting away into pink fluffy cotton candy.

“We never gots to see ya up dis close before. It twere sunset when we dids sees ya afore. Never dreamed ya'd be so pretty. Ya can'na knows ya do not likes somet'ing until ya has tried it. Ya should try sex. Ya’d like it."

“But then I wouldn't be a virgin."

“We simply must cure ya of dat horrible lifestyle ya has."

“It's not a horrible lifestyle."

“He won't even masturbate," BeaLuna said.

“BeaLuna!"

“What? You don’t."

“How would you know?”

“You told me. I asked. Remember?”

“Will you stop talking about me like that."

“Why?"

“I don't like it."

“Well it's true."

“Is dat true?" BoomFuzzy asked the Elf.

“I... you... Yes... but it's not your concern."

“It's everyone's concern actually," BeaLuna continued. “See the King doesn't have a son, and he's really old. And his younger brother, he's really old too. Neither of them is gonna live much longer. Well, Quaraun here is the King’s brother's only son, so they've decided Quaraun is gonna be the next King, only the King is expected to have a queen, not be a queen, and he's supposed to sire an heir, but Quaraun here refuses to have sex with anyone, even himself, so the whole kingdom is basically in an uproar over trying to get him to fuck with someone so he can find out how much he actually does like sex, even though he thinks he doesn't like sex, but then, he's got this problem, where he's kind of crazy, you know, like how he thinks you have claws, and keeps talking about JellyFish living in his head, so no she-Elf will get near him anyways, because they all think he’s insane, which he is, thus why everyone calls him Quaraun the Insane..."

“I do have a JellyFish living in my head,” Quaraun interrupted her. “And he does have claws. Huge talons. Made for killing and tearing flesh. Fearsome things. You could kill an Elf with a single swipe."

“Ha ha! We could. We do. We does. And dat excites ya, Elf." BoomFuzzy's eyes went down to Quaraun's crotch. “Quite a bit. Do ya like being tortured, Elf? In me experience de t'ought of ripping someone's t'roat out do'na often excite a Elf, but it excites ya. Oh! We does likes ya more every time We does see ya. But ya still see me claws? Huh? Even after 5 apricots. My. My. Oh dear oh dear. Ya really are a powerful Wizard. Maybe more powerful den me Gibedon. That do be a problem.”

“Each time we meet?”

“Aye.”

“Do I know you?”

“Not like dis ya does no. Ya a Elf wid a dirty mind. We could has fun wid ya. Oh, We would gladly take up de job of teach ya to like sex. We does not tink it would be dat hard considering de erection yis hasing right here un nows."

BoomFuzzy moved closer to Quaraun, which Quaraun had not thought was possible. The tiny Faerie-Elf, stood on top of Quaraun's feet again then went up on tip-toe, hugging his neck, to try to look Quaraun in the eye. Quaraun gasped as he felt the Faerie-Elf press his groin tight against Quaraun's.

“We does no t’inks it would be very hard to take ya virginity from ya. AGAIN. We could do it right now and ya'd just stand dere and not stop me. We would do it right now, except We needs ya to keep it a smiggin oov ah wee bit a longer. Got a job for ya. Need a virgin Wizard to dos it for me."

“Are you sure I still am?”

“A virgin?”

“Yes.”

“Referencing de last time we meet? Apricot?” BoomFuzzy pressed his lips against the Elf's ear to whisper. “That were rape, just because ya liked it, does no make it count. A ya did like it. We does knows dat.”

Then BoomFuzzy slide his hands down Quaraun's back stopping to grasp a tight grip on his hips, holding the Elf in place while he humped on him like a dog in heat. Quaraun was too flustered to know how to respond. The last thing he had expected was for BoomFuzzy to hump against him like that. BoomFuzzy laughed and let go of Quaraun, then backed away from him.

“Ya has such pretty bonny blue eyes. Ha! ha! Yis in shock over me ain't ya."

“You... your... very bold."

“Un ya very pretty."

“What are you?"

“I a horny Faerie who wants to fuck a Elf.”

The apricots were having a bigger affect on Quaraun than he wanted to admit. He was starting to realize the Faerie had tricked him into eating it's food and now was fighting to separate the reality of what was with the reality as the Faerie wanted him to see it.

“We a shape shifter. We does can be whatevers ya wants me to be. Whatever makes ya horny, We does be it. Anyt'ing dat gets me in ya bed, dat We be."

“You don't act like an Elf."

“Oh... nooooo! Ha ha!! Ya already saids ya t’ought We is a Faerie. Oh! Does dat boder ya? Here. Have ano’her apricot."

Quaraun took the fruit then placed his hand over his ear. The one the Phooka had bitten. The wound was not yet fully healed. Quaraun started telling himself to remember the wound and not get lost in the illusion. He looked around at the Elves who were sitting around on the ground eating pieces of the cake house.

“Apricots.” Quaraun looked down at the fruit in his hand. “What have you done to me?”

“Ya was telling me, somet'ing about ne’er taking food from Faeries before. Ha! Ha! Forget dat rule of yars? Bragged ya was ever so careful to never eat Fae food. That dere in ya. That be apricot number seven.”

“The King rides ahead of his army,” Quaraun whispered to himself. “Takes the form of an Elf, lives in the village, puts them under a trance and then kills them all.”

“Hows dat, eh?”

“We meet before.” Quaraun was now trying to keep the real memories alive.

“Aye.”

“You're the Elf Eater.”

“Aye.”

“And you admit it?”

“No reason not to. Ye de only one in Inuvik what can save dem. They is already eaten me food and yis too pissed at dem to save dem.”

“Why are you here?”

“Found me an Elf I want to fuck.”

“I'm a Wizard of the Di'Jinn order. I fuck no one.”

“Ya deeply enjoyed hasing me inside ya. Does ya deny dat, eh?”

“No, but it won't happen again.”

“No? ha ha! We see about dat.”

“And you laugh."

“Aye. Do ya not?"

“No. Elves don't laugh.” Quaraun was trying to find inconsistency to help him remember what was real and what was illusion.

“Does ya claim to be an Elf?”

“We have that beaten out of us before we can walk."

“Really? Ya poor t'ing. Ya never laugh? Ever?"

“We don't laugh. We don't smile. We don't cry. We're not allowed to. To show emotions is weak. We force all emotions as deep below the surface as we can."

“Hmm-uh. Yeah. That be not happening for me. We does loves emotions. Emotions is good. Me parents tried dat wid me. It dids no go over well. So dey abaundonit me and left me by me lonesome in de woods. They t'ought it would teach me a lesson."

“And did it?"

“No. But it dids teach dem a lesson."

“How so?"

“We does ates dem."

“You... Ate.... you ate your parents?"

“Aye. And dey never dids bully me again now dids dey? They could'na, not whiles deys was chopped up and inside me belly. Well We does ates me faddah, after he gone done killeds me moder. He ate me moder, so technically, We does only ates him, but dey bo’d ended up in me belly, seeings how he ates her before We does ates him. We is like dat auld woman who swallowed de fly. Never not knows why she did swallowed dat fly, perhaps she die, eh?"

“You're insane aren't you?"

“Aye. That We is.”

“I hate Faeries.”

 “Here, have a chocolate cloustered apricot. It twall do ya good. Loosen up dat stiff auld brainless mind of yas."

“One should never accept food from strangers. You never know when it might be enchanted by Faeries."

“Wise advice. Yis not as stupid as most of de Elves around here. We does like dat. Here. Apricot."

BoomFuzzy handed Quaraun the same apricot, but from the other hand and that time he took it and ate it and did not seem to notice he had.

The spell that had captured everyone else in the village was slowly enveloping Quaraun, clouding his mind, effecting his judgement and causing him to not fully be aware of his true surroundings any more.

The gingerbread house became more real and the forest and horses faded from his eyes.

The oak trees lot their bloody fruit and cheerful pink cotton candy fluttered in the breeze instead, as reality slipped away and BoomFuzzy's spell sucked Quaraun in.

“I'm a Wizard. Unlike most of the idiots in this town, I have an education. I'm not an illiterate dolt who takes candy from strangers who appear out of no where with a gingerbread house, that should have taken weeks to build."

“Ahhh. The Wizard of de Moon Elves. Aye. Then ya should be Quaraun. I has heards of ya.”

“You keep asking me the same questions over and over.”

“Aye. Apricot?”

“Why?”

“Waiting for apricots to take full effect on yis brain. Ya answers is changing.”

“You’re drugging me.”

“Yis eating me apricots, any ways, no?”

“I am.”

“They say Yis de best at what ya do and We does has a job for ya."

“What is it, they say I do?"

“Ya makes genie-bottles. Ya capture demons and devils and disembodied souls."

“That is my specialty, yes."

“We does needs one. No. That be not right. We does needs t'irteen of dem in fact."

“Thirteen genie-bottles? Why?"

“Where We does come from, our village is plagued by t'irteen evil spirits. We has tried everyt'ing. We is at our wits end to get rids of dem. Then we hear tell of an Elf, in de frozen lands of de Deep North, pure and innocent, free of all corruption and sin, and wields power like none other, in a village in a valley of ice and snow, he be de most powerful Wizard de realm has ever knewed, and de t'ing he is knewed for is building items to contain ot'er items in such a way, dey nevers escape. Items dat is endowed wid such strong magic dat no one can ever breaks dem. The bottles he builds is indestructible. We does has seen one. We does dids tested it. Ya has very strong magic, Elf. We does cames here looking fors ya. We does want to order t’irteen of dem."

“Most people can't afford even one of my magic items. And you want thirteen? Can you afford them?"

“Aye. We does can."

“I'm not cheap."

“Un We not poor."

“I don't accept illusionary payments from Illusionists."

“Is dat want ya t’inks We does be?"

“You are yourself a Wizard. And a Faerie. You're a trickster and a shape shifter. And I can see through your illusions. I think the others around here, see you and your house different then I do. You are not an Elf. You're not even a half-Elf. They think you are. Your magic strong, and they can't see you for what you are, but my magic is stronger, and I can see that you are a Faerie. And I don't like dealing with Faeries. Faeries are not trustworthy. Faeries lie. And Faeries pay in gold coins that crumble away into feathers and dust. Your kind makes chocolate out of poison mushrooms, and gingerbread out of toadstools.”

“And eggnog out of poppies, Here? Eggnog?”

Quaraun took the mug and stared down at it, then continued talking.

“It's poppy milk disguised as eggnog. Everyone in the village has been eating your house and are trapped by your spell now. You'll have to pay me, in something that is more real then your house , candies, and nog are, Faerie."

 “We does likes ya. And We does can pay ya in real gold. In de Realm of Fae, We does be King. We does be King Gwallmaiic of Pepper Valley. We does has pet dragon back at home on Fire Mountain and a Leprechaun for a manservant. We does has a lot of gold and jewels. Fat lot of good it does me. We does has no family. No one to love me and love in return. All de gold in de world, can'na buy love. Ya name ya price, ya shall has ya gold. Say ya'll be me lover and We can gives ya de world. We can ya knows. And ya wants dat or ya did a long time ago.”

“You’re lying about the thirteen spirits.”

“Is we?”

“Yes.”

“How ya tell?”

“Why are you here, really?”

“We is building an army of Liches and We am a fait’ful servant of de pretty pink Jellyfish dat wished to rule de world. We does do anyt'ing for her.”

“You serve the Sacred Pink JellyFish?”

“We does be madly in loves wid her.”

BoomFuzzy took hold of the Elf's hand, in both of his and began to gently stroke Quaraun's soft flesh.

“I am de King over every King of Fae. King over nearly all de non-Fae kings. The Grand High Emperor of de Triple Planets is my King. I wish to serve him.”

“And you think that is me?”

The candy maker knelt at Quaraun's feet, still holding his hand.

“I knows it is ya. I has had me a taste of ya blood. I knows what lifes inside ya. Love me and I will be yar slave.”

“I don’t accept Human currency.”

“No?”

“No.”

“What yis take?”

“While the Common Elves use whatever currency is used by local Humans, we High Elves use gemstones as currency.”

“Gemstones? Like diamonds ub rubies?”

“Not just the high end stones like diamonds, rubies, and sapphires, but also the more common stones like quartz, amethyst, obsidian, tourmaline, mica, pyrite, lapis, and jade. High Elves in coastal areas also use sea shells or coral or smooth white beach pebbles. Humans and Common Elves tend to use metals: gold, silver, copper, melted into coins.”

“What ya want?”

“Tourmalines.”

“Tormy-lins?”

“Pink ones.”

“May I ask but one t'ing?”

“What?”

“Do no break me spell. The Moon Elves is a haughty lot. Proud arrogant and very bigoted against Faeries. Do ya t’inks I could of walked into ya wee lil village as a Faerie and not been killit deid on sight?"

Quaraun suddenly laughed. He had suddenly gotten a marvellous idea how to annoy his father. The Faerie let go of the Elf's hand uncertain why Quaraun had laughed, fearing the Elf rejected his offer.

“I t'ought ye Elves dids no laugh?"

“We're not supposed to, but your apricots seem to make me feel...uhm..."

“Less inhibited?"

“Yes.”

BoomFuzzy stood back up.

“How come for does ya laugh?”

“You've got nearly the whole village under a spell, don't you?"

“Aye."

“I don't know why I didn't think of that myself."

“Eh?"

“Nothing. You caught me on a bad day. Up until yesterday I had long hair and I didn't dress like this."

“Meaning?"

“Meaning you're right. A Faerie would have been killed on sight. And my father would have given the order. Nothing would spite him more then me helping a Faerie. If you stay in our village, keep people drugged under your Fae Food Glimmer spell, I'll make your genie-bottles."

“Ya want me to keep dem drugged?”

“Yes.”

“What of de rest of me request?”

“I'll think about it. I don't keep lovers. We don't reproduce that way. You do excite me. I don't know why.”

 “Ya living in de body of an Elf. No matter what ya Jelly body did before, yis subject to de desires of de Elf body's flesh now and an Elf needs de physical love of a companion. Ya'll not survive long n de body of an Elf dat shuns sex. Elves is very sexual beings. They t'rive on sex. They make bad choices as a host body for Thullids seeking sexlessness. But, Ya has troubles wid ya faddah?”

“Yes. He burned my pink dresses and cut my hair and is now demanding I find a sister marry."

“Burned ya dresses?"

“I don't very much like being a male."

“Ya does no like being male? Oh, I t’inks I is gonna like ya a lot."

“I've been passing for female for several years. Is that a problem?"

“Ohhh, no. No! Not a problem. Not a problem at all. I prefer it actually. I t’inks I likes ya more every minute. So Yis saying dat before today, ya looked like girl."

“Yes."

“I love it. Yis a rebellious lil Elf ain't ya?"

“I am deeply and utterly annoyed by the people of this village."

“There be Elves around here ya no like?"

“An infinite number of them."

“Anyone else in dis town ya does what ta kill?"

“What?" Quaraun was taken back by the Fae's question.

The strange unElf, wrapped his arms around Quaraun's neck and stood on tip-toe to whisper into his ear: “There be more den one way I can pays ya. I is an Elf Eater. I eats Elves. I twould gladly get rid of any problem Elves for ya."

Quaraun wasn't really listening to what the Fae-Elf-creature was saying. He was too busy thinking about the erection he was having as the creature was pressed up against him.

“Gwallmaiic...”

“Call me BoomFuzzy. And ya t'oughts is elsewhere right now ain't dey?" BoomFuzzy ran his hand down Quaraun's chest, across his belly, stopping over his erection. “I can pay ya's like dat too. Haha! Yis a very pretty Elf. I would no mind paying ya's like dat at all. And Yis ready for it right now. Would ya come into me house? Lay in me bed wid me?"

“That's rather bold."

“Sos this." BoomFuzzy squeezed Quaraun's cock and made him moan. “Yis very ready for it."

“I should go."

“Oh please do no go. Please come in and let me relieve ya tension. It twall only take wheen minutes."

“I can't."

“Ya can.”

“I... no... I already told you. I am a Wizard of the Di'Jinn order. I've never been with anyone before."

“A Di'Jinn? Aye. Yis a virgin. Or at least ya t’inks yis. I keep forgetsing Oh my. I like virgins. But Yis a Di'Jinn. Oh my. Ya was wid me only a week ago, dids ya forget how much ya enjoyed me riding ya. But ya did lifes wid dem. I remembers. No wonder ya wee lil magic is powerful. The Di'Jinn be formidable. That explains de power of yar magic. Ya must not has sex den. I needs de t'irteen genie bottles made to be as powerful as de one I tested. Pity. Yis such a pretty, Elf. I twould love to sink me rod between yar creamy white thighs."

“I have to go."

“Will ya make de bottles?"

“Yes. I will need specific details on what type of spirits they are to hold. I'll come back for those later. When you are less... horny... and I am less drugged.... and wanting you to... I gotta go."

“I shall be waiting for ya's to come back." BoomFuzzy continued to fondle the Elf.

“I have to go."

“Apricot for de road?"

“These are drugged."

“But ya keep taking dem?"

“I know."

“How comes dat, eh?"

“I don't know."

“Well den. Ya trot on back home and clear ya head. Do'na stay away long. Ya knows where I is and me bed is always open for ya."

 From: BoomFuzzy

Why am I sprawled on the ground? I am covered in dirt. On my back. Why am I on my back? How did I get here? Staring skyward into the darkness. At the ceiling.

Maybe? Is there a ceiling overhead? I can’t see. It is so exceptionally dark.

I need to sit up. The ground below me is hard and rocklike. It hurts. It hurts so bad.

Stiff.

Uncomfortable.

It is painful to lay on.

Why am I laying on it?

It hurts.

I hurt.

I ache all over.

Where am I?

Why am I on the ground?

Gravel and pebbles are scraping my skin through my clothes. I hate it. It hurts. Abrasive sand is tumbling around my toes, inside my shoes. It hurts my feet. It hurts my toes. I have sand between my toes. I hate it.

Dirt.

A road?

Am I sitting in the middle of the road?

Why am I sitting in the middle of the road?

How did I get in the middle of the road?

What happened? Where am I?

What has transpired? Why don’t I remember?

Why am I outside?

Why is it so dark?

Is it night?

I can’t see anything.

Have I gone blind?

No.

I’ve lost my sight before. Briefly. After being struck on the head. It wasn’t like this. It wasn’t black. It was gray. Foggy. With bursts of colour exploding inside my skull. 

No. This is just darkness. But there are no stars. No moon. Where is my moon? Have I fallen into a hole in the ground? 

Have I been buried alive? Did you bury me alive? Entombed beneath the earth.

I can feel dirt and rocks and dirt and soil and dirt and sediment and dust and dirt. And dirt is everywhere. There is so much dirt. I’m dirty. Where is the edge of the trail? Dust is everywhere.

It’s dirt everywhere. Dirt and dirt and more dirt. I can’t find any anything. Is there anything here? Anything at all. No. I can find nothing. It’s just dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt. Why is there so much dirt! 

Where is the grass? I can’t see. I have dirt all over my hands. Why can’t I find any grass? Why is it so dark? There is no grass. I can’t feel any grass. Where is the grass? Why is there no grass? I need grass. I have dirt all over my hands. Why is it so messy? Where is the grass? My hands are covered in mud. I need to clean my hands. I need some grass for wipe this mud off my hands.

Feel the dirt, rocks, dirt, dirt, debris, dust and dirt. And everywhere there is just more dirt. Gravel and dirt and dust. There is a lot of dust. I’m dirty. My hands are dirty. My clothes are dirty. My shoes are dirty. I have dirt in my nose.  

Where is the end of the road? Dust is everywhere. It’s dirty, it’s dirty, it’s dirty. Is there something here? No. Nothing. I can’t find anything. Dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty, not dirty. 

Why is everything so messy? Where is the grass? I can’t see. My hands are covered in mud. I need to clean my hands. Why can’t I find any weeds? Why is it so dark and there is no grass? I don’t feel the grass. Where is the grass? Why is there no grass? I need hashish. My hands are in the mud, not in the grass. I didn’t feel the plants at all. Nothing. No plants. I don’t feel the grass. I don’t feel flowers. I can’t feel the trees. Dirty and dirty. And gravel.

It’s not just grass. I can’t feel any plants at all. Nothing. There are no plants. I can’t feel any grass. I can’t feel any flowers. I can’t feel any trees. It’s just dirt and more dirt. And gravel. And I broke a nail. I hate dirt so damned much. Why does there have to be so much damned dirt?

No shrubs grow here. I can’t feel any grass.

No ferns. No hedges. No plants. No foliage. No hedges. No shrubberies. No thickets. No briers. No bushes. No grains. 

There are no forests here. I don’t feel any grass or bushes. No fence. No plants. No leaves. There is no fence. There are no bushes. No thistle. There are no bushes. No grains. No fruit. No fence. No herbs. No vegetation. There is no dike. No weeds. No watercourse. No roses. There are no bushes. No brush. No strawberries, no trees. Neither trees nor seedlings can be found. No seeds. There are no bushes anywhere. Treeless. Treeless. Treeless. Treeless. No trees. No vines. No leaves. There are no banks. 

No berries. No hedgerows. No herbs. No vegetation. No hedges. No underbrush. No brushwood. No roses. No bushes. No brambles. No burs.

No trees. I can’t find any trees.

No saplings. No seedlings. No timbers. No trees. No trees. No trees. No trees. No trees at all. Treeless. Treeless. Treeless. Treeless.

Where did the trees go?

No vines. No leaves. 

I am not indoors either. 

No floors.

No canvases.

No chairs. No tables. No benches. No desks. No floors, towels or chairs. There is no table.

No carpets.

No bed. 

No bookcase. 

No furniture at all. 

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing!

Just dirt.

Just godforsaken dirt.

There is no table. No carpet, no bedding. There are no books. There is no furniture. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing, just dirt, dirt left here by God.

No. 

There is no forest without leaves. Why am I not at home? There is no canvas. There is no chair. Without seats without seating, there is no carpet without an office. Nothing. Nothing! I’m waiting for a dirty... what is this? Do you feel something? What are you? 

Wait. What’s this?

I feel something.

What is this? What are you?

It’s wood. It’s not a tree. It’s square. It’s sharp. It has a corner. And OW! Splinters. Now I have a splinter! Damn you! What are you? 

A beam? 

Leaned on something.

On what?

A wall?

Are you a wall?

Am I inside? Why is there so much dirt inside? It feels like a road, all packed in and traveled on. Busy, busy, like on the highway. No. This is not a highway. I’m not outside. I’m inside. In...am I in...a cave? How did I get into a cave? Am I in a cave? Why am I in a cave? Is this a cave? I can’t tell. 

Where am I? 

How did I get here? 

You’re a vertical surface. You can help me up. I won’t have to crawl around groveling in the dirt anymore. If I hold on to the wall and walk along you, maybe I can find my way out of here and back into sunlight. Why is it so damned dark in here? I can’t see a thing.

Searching.

Probing.

Through the darkness, for anything that might reveal to me where I am. 

Piling. 

Scaffolding. 

Plank. 

Joist. 

Pillar. 

Rough. 

Old. 

Crumbling. 

Decayed. 

Decomposed. 

Moldered. 

Rotted.

It will collapse.

This whole place will fall in on me.

By the feel of the stone and dirt and massive timber beams on the wall, it’s gem mine. A dwarven gem mine. I seem to have found myself in a roughly hewn chamber of some sort. Some sort of cave. Or a tunnel. A sod house, maybe? 

A mine? Oh. It’s a mine isn’t it? A Dwarf mine? No? Yes. It must be. It has to be. What else could it be? How did I get in a Dwarf mine?

The shades of stone, dirt and rot from the huge wooden posts hanging from the walls are my pearls. I need to get out of here.

The beams felt like scaffolding for mine shafts.

I can’t find out for certain in the darkness.

Have I stumbled into a mine shaft?

Did I discover a mine by accident? 

I do not remember.

It concerns me greatly that I can not remember in what way or manner I arrived at this place. Was I abducted? If so, than by who? And why? And where are they? Why would they leave me alone here? Why can't I remember how I got here? Or was it a portal? O! It could have been a portal! Did I fall into a portal? Oh! I could be any where. Any planet. Any dimension. Any time. Oh! How would I know? By what means did I come to be here? And where exactly was here?  

It is dark.  

So very dark.

So very extremely dark.

So very extremely, extraordinarily dark.

Timeworn wooden pilings are leaning against walls. I can feel them. And the walls are made out of stone and collapsing clay. Dry clay. Smooth and silky. It'd be good for my silk. I should take some with me, but I've no way to carry any.

There is a great abundance of noise. And soil dribbling down from the sod ceiling with every vibration.

Distant.

Moaning.

Rumbling.

A mountain that rumbles.

Was this a cavern in...a volcano?

It bore resemblance to a mine shaft.

A tunnel, perhaps?

Under a mountain?

But to do what?

And where?

Where am I?

How did I arrive here?

I simply can not recall.

Why can’t I remember?

And what was that sound?

I'm wandering in blindness.

Inching ahead, ever so slowly.

Deliberately.

Reaching out.

Into the darkness.

Touching the wall.

The dirt on the wall is thick and dry, barren, parched, but not sandy. It's... powdery. Caked. Clumping. Smoothly textured like talc mixed with clay. Heavy. It smells like the rich dark peat clay found under a forest’s leaf carpet. What a wonderful smell. Dirt would be nice if it wasn't so dirt. I love the smell of dirt. I just hate how badly it soils my clothes. Silk is so hard to get clean. This clay smells so nice. If mixed it with water it would feel so nice on my skin.

Using my fingers on the earth wall as a guide, I pursued the passage, hoping to find an exit. Or at the very least, a light. Who knew what was lurking in the darkness with me? Beasts. Monsters. Bandits. There could be dangers lurking all around me. I’d not know to run.

I need to listen. For danger. I must take notice of every sound. Always alert and ready to run. Except run to where? I can’t see a thing. Not one single, solitary thing. If I trip, I'll break my neck. How am I supposed to run from danger wen I can't even see my own hand. Why the hell is this place so dark. This is the darkest, darkness I've ever been in.

OW!

Damn it! What was that? Stubbed my toe. Now it hurts. I was already hurting enough. Now I hurt more. I didn't need more hurt. I needed less hurt. Damn darkness.

Accursed darkness.

Damned accursed darkness.

Stupid blackness everywhere.

Eternal blackness.

Why does it have to be so damned dark in this place?

And I'm alone.

I hate being alone. I'm just always alone. No body cares. No one. Ever. I have no one. BoomFuzzy's dead. He killed himself. Because I killed Gibedon. I shouldn't have killed Gibedon. Why did he have to die? I never should have killed him. BoomFuzzy would still be alive if I hadn't killed Gibedon. He loved Gibedon. BoomFuzzy loved Gibedon.

Why did he love Gibedon?

He hid Gibedon from me. He loved Gibedon and he didn't want me to know. I thought he loved me. I loved him. Why didn't he love me? We were soul bound. I cut my soul in half to be with him. Part of him. Him part of me. I would have loved him forever. I do love him, forever. I'll always love him. Why did he have to die? Why did he kill himself? I don't understand. I miss him. I miss him so much. I feel so alone without him.

There is so much darkness here.

Just everywhere.

There could be monsters all around me and I wouldn't know it. I can't see a thing. And this tunnel just keeps going and going. It doesn't end. And I can't see where I'm going. And it's hot and humid. Dry and muggy. Both at the same time. It makes my lungs hurt. And it makes my head hurt. And my eyes and my throat. It's so hard to breath in here. It's so dark and dirty and I hate it.

Quaraun stumbled across the apartment. His strides were swift and determined. Or as precipitous and controlled as he could compel them to act. He’d enjoyed a few bottles too much green Fairy wine to drink, and he knew it, but he couldn’t oblige anybody else to notice it. No. He wasn’t supposed to be out drinking this evening. Not tonight. Tomorrow is a considerably important day.

Consistent.

Stable.

Calm.

Steady. He must walk steady. And consistently natural. And calmly stable.

Balanced.

Balanced is more advisable than stable.

Yes.

Balancing was desirable.

And upright.

Upright was important. It would do no good to make attempts to walk if one was not standing upright beforehand.

Quaraun wondered if he was standing upright or not. The determination in his steps became his immediate focus. Quaraun kept an eye on his feet to make certain they were moving in the correct places. He couldn’t discern if they were or not.

Must walk steady. Mustn’t let anyone notice. Must... Must...

Thunder boomed outside.

Lightning flashed.

The momentary manifestation of blinding luminescence infiltrated the room with its purple haze before melting away and surrendering the chamber back into the blackness of night.

Wait...who is that?

The instant burst of light lasted scarcely long enough to imbue the lodging with intense light.

There was a man in the corridor. Standing just outside the door. Looking in. Staring at Quaraun. Watching. Waiting.

How’d he got there?

Wasn’t the door bolted?

Quaraun walked closer to the door.

Cautiously.

Carefully.

Slowly.

Guardedly.

“Who are you?” Quaraun called out.

No answer.

Silence.

Quaraun stumbled, but hastily caught himself.

Can’t collapse.

Couldn’t let this fellow think he was drunk, either.

He squinted his eyes. Straining to see through the darkness.

Hoping for the lightning to flash again.

There was a man in the doorway.

A man. Where there shouldn’t be one.

“Who are you?” Quaraun called out again.

Nothing.

The man stood in the doorway.

Watching.

Staring.

Silent.

He didn’t move.

He didn't speak.

Might be one of his friends.

No.

They shouldn't be here.

They couldn't be here.

They were dead.

But who knows?

Maybe...

No...

Couldn't be...

Quaraun opened his eyes. A glowing purple unicorn was standing over him. A glittering gold sheep was kneeling beside him. They were both talking but he couldn't hear them. Quaraun's vision blurred and doubled, than went in and out of focus a few times. The muffled sounds of his friends’ voices bounced around like a rubber ball inside his head. He tried to focus on one voice, one sound, straining to hear who was talking and what they said. Finally his vision became clearer and the sounds became less garbled.

"You okay?" the glittering gold sheep asked.

"Who was the man in the doorway?" Quaraun asked, not answering the glittering gold sheep's question.

"What man?"

"That man!" Quaraun sat up and pointed towards the door.

Wait.

He wasn't there.

The man was gone.

Quaraun looked around.

The sun was up. It was daytime.

Night was gone. It had slunk away to the shadows, to hide for another day. Fleeing from the sun's warm embrace. Waiting for sunset to come and free it back into the world again.

"There was a man there," Quaraun said to no one in particular. "Where did he go? Did you see him?"

"No," The glowing purple unicorn answered. "Only thing we seen was you passed out on the floor."

A knocking, rapted quickly.

Than silence.

Waiting.

Than the knocking came again.

Louder.

Again.

Louder still.

Quaraun opened his eyes.

He looked around the room.

"Where am I?"

He was sitting at a large wooden table.

It was a small room.

Quaint.

The glittering gold sheep and the glowing purple unicorn were both gone. They had never been there.

Quaraun nervously twisted his hands around the long thin neck of the green glass wine bottle he was clutching.

"I need to either stop drinking Fairy wine, or drink so much of it I never wake up out of it's embrace. How did I get here?"

Quaraun tried to focus his eyes through the semi-drunk blur, he was still drifting in and out of.

Lots of wooden shelves lined the walls.

Some shelves were jam packed full of ancient leather bound books.

Other shelves were littered for various assorted glass jars, coloured glass bottles, clay pots, and various brick a brack.

Bundles of dried herbs hung from the rafters.

"Ah! The Swamp Hag's house. Forgot I was here." He paused, suddenly remembering why he was here. "Oh dear. I'm running out of leads."

Quaraun glanced down at the dishevelled lifeless body of the Swamp Hag on the floor behind him. Her blood was pooling on the wooden planks.

His attention was brought back to the sound which had awoken hm. The knocking sound thudded, dully through the house again.

He turned back to he front of the building.

"Damn. Someone's at your door. I suppose we should answer it. You certainly can't."

Quaraun pushed his chair back from the table, stood up, picked up the Swamp Hag's head and stuffed it into the pink beaded heart shaped bag of holding on his hip.

Kelim knew where the house was.

All the kids did.

He’d been here before, many times.

On a dare.

It was something kids did.

Dare one another to go to the Swamp Hag’s house and rip a board of her fence as proof you did it.

There wasn’t a kid in town who didn’t have a piece of the old Hag’s fence.

Kelim began panicking as he thought of the fence.

“What if she recognizes me as the one who stole a piece of her fence?”

Kelim stopped walking and sat down on the grass. His head was spinning. He felt he was about to faint. The ground was still cold. The snow was mostly melted. Flowers peeked up through last fall’s dry leaves. Kelim lay on his back in the cool young spring grass and stared up at the tall towering pine trees. A sickly sensation of Vertigo sunk in his stomach as his gaze followed the trees up their 150 feet of height. Little brown birds ran down thick bark, head downwards and peeking under the cracks looking for ants. Kelim wondered how they did not get dizzy or fall off from the blood rushing to their head. He was getting dizzy just thinking about it. Kelim closed his eyes, but that did not make him feel any better so he sat up and looked out across the swamp in stead.

“I gotta do this.”

Kelim hated coming out into the swamp alone. The water was black and sickly looking. Not the clean, healthy, clear water anyone would want to drink. It stank too.

Ghirardelli wasn’t Human. She wasn’t a Faerie either. Kelim didn’t know what she was. She was a Hag. But what was a Hag?

What was a Swamp Hag any ways?

A Demon?

He didn’t know.

He didn’t really care.

Hags were not Humans or Faeries or Fairys or Elves or any other such race. They were some sort of Monster race. Something akin to a Demon.

But..

He didn’t know.

And...

He didn’t care.

He just needed to think about something other than that he felt like vomiting right now. Most of him just wanted to run back to town. Kelim looked out at the swamp again. Where the edge water sat still, there was a brown rusty coloured gelatinous foam coating the leaves and sticking to twigs. That icky looking sludge seemed to be the sources of the smell.

Kelim got up and started walking again. He had to hurry if he wanted to talk to the Necromancer and still have time to get back through the woods again before dark. He walked round the edge of the water knowing that the Swamp Hag’s house was around here somewhere. The forest was getting deeper and darker. The trees closer together. The deeper Kelim went into the forest, the cleaner the swamp looked.

The swamp widened significantly now. The water at its centre more like a shallow pond, but still black from the thick peat floating at its surface. Tall grass and prickly spiky vines grew around the water’s edge. Kelim suspected he was coming to the end of the swamp as he could hear the sounds of running water up ahead. He had yet to find the Necromancer’s home.

Did he not live in the swamp after all?

A woodpecker screamed from a rear by hemlock as if to answer.

“Don’t be silly,” Kelim scolded himself. “It’s probably all just a stupid rumour, anyway.”

Kelim passed the glade in front of the large thatched roof hovel of Ghirardelli, the swamp hag. A tall stockade fence surrounded the entire place. Kelim stood, counting the missing panels that created gaping holes in the ancient wooden fence.

“She’s a Witch, and she has a Necromancer staying with her. Why do I let Witsnot talk me into these things?”

Kelim counted the trees to keep himself from feeling like he was stuck in a nightmare. He tried to convince himself that he was just getting worked up over nothing.

In the far corner of the swamp an old hovel was half hidden in the shadows of tall trees lined up behind it. It was the only sign of any life. So he strolled over, trying to look casual.

He hesitated a second before knocking on the door. There was no answer at first. He knocked again. Still no answer. He knocked louder. Kelim was about to give up and leave when the door swung open so suddenly it made him jump back.

He had expected the Swamp Hag to answer the door. But it wasn’t her who stood before him now.

It was an Elf.

Not a Common Elf.

No.

A High Elf.

Kelim had not expected the Necromancer to be a High Elf.

Nor had he expected the alien creature to be the one who would answer the door.

The door had been answered by a pale skinned Moon Elf with long silken bum length white hair, large brilliant icy pale blue eyes, and dressed head to toe in eye popping bubblegum pink robes, embroidered with huge platinum beads and magenta silk hearts. The Elf's opaline skin stood out in pale evening light, shimmering like moonlight on freshly fallen snow. Kelim had heard rumours that moonlight had this effect on the skin of a Moon Elf, thus their name of Moon Elf, but he'd never before seen it. An eerie prism like glow hovered over the Elf's frosty white flesh, making the Elf look as though it had been carved out of ice. The effect terrified Kelim, who had heard rumours that the High Elves had a deep dislike for every race other than their own.

Kelim had never met an Elf before.

Common Elves were scary enough.

But the High Elves were terrifying.

Ruthless.

Brutal.

Emotionless.

Cannibals.

Predators.

Emotionless predators.

Sharp fanged.

Vampire-like.

Blood thirsty beasts that had fallen from the sky and were trapped on Earth against their will.

Kelim knew the stories.

No blood relation to the Common Elves.

Not Elves at all.

No blood relation to anything Earthly.

Aliens from another time.

Another world.

Another galaxy.

They hated being trapped on this alien planet. They hated all life on Earth. They kept to themselves and shunned all of Earth’s inhabitants.

The High Elves were rare and even more rarely seen.

So rare that rumours deemed them mere figments of over active imaginations.

And yet, here was a High Elf.

One of those rare alien vampires, was now standing face to face with Kelim.

Kelim stared at the Necromancer, uncertain what to say.

The Moon Elf was looking at him with an expressionless face.

Kelim had not expected the pale Elf to answer the door.

He was taken by surprise at this.

This was the Swamp Hag’s house after all.

Why would a stranger answer her door?

And while this was clearly an Elf, he was uncertain if it was the Wizard or not.

The unearthly, shimmering prismatic, somewhat phosphorescent skin of the pink robed Elf terrified Kelim. He had heard rumours that the Moon Elves had a deep dislike for every race other than their own, and this Moon Elf was looking at Kelim with an expressionless face.

Kelim may have prided himself in knowing the stories told about the Moon Elves, but the fact was, that Kelim really knew next to nothing about Moon Elves in general, or this the Last Moon Elf in particular.

Had Kelim known the actual history of the Moon Elves, and the truth behind how Quaraun had become the last of his kind, Kelim would have been running scared shitless, to get as far away from The Pink Necromancer as he could.

But Kelim only knew the stories.

The rumours.

Not the history.

Not the facts.

Not the truth.

If he had known the history, and how they had died, he would have known that what he was talking for was in fact NOT a Moon Elf, but rather a Thullid, whom had killed the Moon Elves and was wearing the skin of this Moon Elf, like a coat.

Quaraun had been a Moon Elf, many, many centuries ago. But now Quaraun was dead, and his hollowed out body was the skin of the Thullid living inside of him.

Had Kelim known this, he would have known that the words Quaraun was right now muttering under his breath, were not Elvish, but rather, were Thullid.

The Moon Elves had died out three centuries ago, Quaraun being the last, and with them, their ancient Elven language had died out with them. All Elves were rare these days, and the Moon Elf language had been thought of as a dead language even when there were still Moon Elves alive.

Quaraun had had to learn the many varied languages of the Humans, the lesser Elf races, and other nonElven races in order to communicate with them. There was no one to speak his native tongue.

The Moon Elf language was as dead as Latin which was why the poor Moon Elf had taken up the bad habit of talking to himself, in order to keep from forgetting how to speak his native tongue.

Unfortunately for Quaraun, what he did not realize is that he long ago had stopped speaking the ancient Moon Elf language and was in fact speaking the Thullid language to himself most days.

The Thullid language was not an Earth language, the Thullids being aliens from a far distance galaxy who's ship had crash landed on Earth centuries ago.

The Thullid language was made up of a lot of 'L's, 'T's, 'X's, and 'I's and not many other letters, and consisted of very snake-like, slithering hissing sounds.

The language was spoken very fast and often intermingled with screams, and shrieks, that actually were words, but sounded to Humans like screaming and shrieking.

Quaraun, in his eye-popping pink beaded gowns, walking in circles, screaming and shrieking to himself in a language that sounded nothing like a language at all, terrified most people.

Quaraun was right now, muttering to himself, in a hissing snake-like accent that terrified the little Pixie who stood trembling before him right now.

Quaraun rarely spoke to anyone, as he was often too busy having conversations with himself to notice there was anyone around to talk to.

He did not like being interrupted.

Kelim had interrupted him.

He immediately decided he did not like Kelim.

For no reason, other than Kelim had knocked on the door and woken him up.

Quaraun was out of Green Fairy Wine. He would rather sleep if he had no Green Fairy Wine to drown his depression in. Kelim had woken him up, so he decided he hated Kelim and stood in the doorway contemplating if he should cut off the Pixie's head now or after he had heard what the Pixie had to say.

Most people who came across Quaraun, dressed as he dressed and talking to himself in the Thullid language, heard nothing but a lot of wild rambling gibberish that didn't sound anything like any Earth language they had ever encountered, so most people took Quaraun for a psychotically deranged, gibbering idiot and was very careful to avoid him.

Few realized that Quaraun was no longer an Elf at all, but rather was in fact a Thullid.

Quaraun was a Thullid Spawnling.

The Thullid had killed the Elf.

That's what Thullid do.

They kill Elves and then take over their bodies.

Even they're closet friends won't know they're dead.

The Thullid larvae hollow out their skulls and live inside the Elf's head, fusing their tentacles to the nerves.

Quaraun's icy white blue eyes were cold.

Empty.

Completely devoid of any emotion.

They were not the kind eyes of an Elf, but the empty emotionless eyes of a Thullid.

Quaraun was not an Elf, not any more.

Quaraun was dead.

He'd been dead a long time.

A Thullid had taken up residence in his body.

Possessing him.

Infesting him.

Infecting him.

When Quaraun was just 3 years old, and eventually devouring his brain and replacing it with it's own brain.

Quaraun the Elf had died centuries ago, at the young age of only 9 years old, and all that remained was the empty husk that was reanimated by the tiny pink jellyfish living in the dead Elf's hallowed out, brainless skull.

The Sacred Pink JellyFish had eaten Quaraun's brain, and like a hermit crab was living in his empty skull.

Looking into Quaraun's emotionless dead eyes, Kelim knew something was definitly mentally wrong with him.

His eyes looked like those of a squid.

The wall eyed fishy glaze of his eyes, terrified Kelim.

Quaraun was nothing but the long dead corpse of an Elf whose body had become the home of an alien sea creature.

Quaraun had become someone else.

He had become a Thullid.

Had he known he was facing a Thullid, Kelim would have shuddered to think of the horrible agony Quaraun had suffered through upon his death to be captured by a Thullid, to have it hold him down and drill a hole into the back of his head, them implant a larvae into his brain. The weeks and months of agony that would have followed as the larvae feed off the poor Elf's brain, while rooting it's spidering tentacles throughout his body, replacing his nerves with it's own, hollowing out his muscles and refilling them with its own.

The poor Elf had suffered in agony for years while the creature slowly took over his body and learned to replicate his words and actions.

In all the Realms there was no death more horrific or more feared, then to die by Thullid infestation. Quaraun the Elf, only Quaraun the Thullid, meaning the real Quaraun had suffered in agony, alone, with no one there to comfort him. The real Elf had died such a horrendous death.

Quaraun looked like an Elf, he outer body had been born an Elf, but it was the Jellyfish living in his brain, that is who Quaraun was now.

It was this reason, that Quaraun could often be seen, talking to himself, in a language that was filled with squishy, fish-like shrieks and screams that made little sense to the people who met him.

Quaraun spoke in 84 common languages. Quaraun, being the highly educated High Elf that he was, spoke most of the known languages of the region, and thus immediately shifted his own speech to match whatever language was being spoken to him. His ability to speak most every language, could sometimes make talking to him difficult as he could, and often did, change languages mid-sentence and rarely realized he was doing it.

Most of his conversation was thus a strange blend of his own native Moon Elf, mixed with Thullid in a bizarre language Quaraun had unknowingly created for himself in his last two hundred years of hermit like solitude.

Kelim unable to speak either Moon Elf and Thullid, was unable to pick up on this difficult self-language Quaraun had made for himself, which annoyed the Moon Elf, forcing him to speak the Pixie's language, which pissed him off.

But none of this mattered right now, for Kelim was unaware he was addressing a Thullid.

In Kelim's mind, this was an Elf. A Moon Elf.

A pale skinned Moon Elf with long silken bum length white hair.

A Moon Elf with large brilliant icy pale blue eyes.

A Moon Elf dressed head to toe in eye popping bubblegum pink robes.

A Moon Elf with elaborately embroidered and beaded designs of hearts, roses, flowers, and jellyfish all over his furisode kimono and corsets gown.

A Moon Elf who right now stood in the doorway staring down at Kelim.

A Moon Elf with opaline skin which glimmered, in pale evening light, shimmering in the moonlight.

After his initial Thullid muttering to himself as he opened the door, the pink-clad Elf didn’t say anything more and stood silently staring down at Kelim.

Kelim wasn't sure who he was addressing. He had come here looking for an evil male Necromancer.

But this was... he wasn't sure. He thought he might be staring into the cold dead eyes of a female prostitute instead.

"Uhm... my name is Kelim?" It came out as a question, more than a statement.

The thin albino Moon Elf just stared down at him and said nothing, which was making Kelim nervous.

"I'm a Toadstool Pixie."

"I can see that."

The Elf sounded bored.

Or tired.

Or maybe both.

Kelim was taken back slightly by the Elf's voice. It was the deep, velvety voice of a male, but he could have sworn the Elf standing before him was a female.

 

It looked like a woman.

Dressed like a woman.

The tightly corseted pink dress, with long flowing furisode sleeves. That was was women's dress.

The Elf's eyes were kholed with black, lips painted blood red, and fingertips glistening with pink jewel encrusted gold claw tips. Fresh blood dripped from the tips.

Sparkling pink and green watermelon faceted gemstones glittered from the many rings pierced through the Elf's foot long pointed ears.

A couple more jewelled rings were pierced through the side of his nose and glistening silver chains draped from the rings in his nose to the rings in his ears. Many dainty charms of silver, decorated with more tourmalines, hung from the chains connecting his nose rings to his ear rings. His long silken white hair hung down to below his waist.

If Kelim had meet this pink gowned, bejewelled Elf on the streets he would have sworn she, er, he, was a prostitute.

"Uhm...I...I'm looking for the wizard called Quaraun."

"Well, you've found him."

"Are you Quaraun?"

"I am he," said the Moon Elf, as he stretched one arm out straight and leaned on the door frame, indicating he was unconcerned by either who or what Kelim was, and barring the entrance to him home at the same time. He slowly began drumming his long thin fingers on the door. He left bloody fingerprints on the wood as he did.

Kelim couldn't help but notice the Necromancer had multiple large sparkling diamond and sapphire rings on every single finger.

No.

It wasn’t the rings Kelim was focusing on.

It was the blood.

Blood was trickling down the Elf’s hand. Down his wrist. Into his sleeve. Blood spatter was sprayed across several parts of the dress, and the hems were heavily soaked with more blood. Bloody streaks and swirls were left of the ground as the Elf's skirts swept the floor.

"I'm sorry...you look...uhm...I thought you was a... Are you a man?"

"I'm an Elf."

"Are you a male Elf?"

"If you mean, was I born with a cock and balls between my legs, yes.”

“You look like a...”

“How I choose to dress, whether it matches the gender I was born as or not quite frankly doesn't concern you, now does it?"

Kelim looked down at his feet and began twiddling his thumbs. Talking to strangers made him nervous.

People with any authority made him nervous.

Wizards made him nervous.

Elves made him nervous.

He was just now realizing that effeminate men in pink sequined dresses with lots of feminine jewellery made him nervous.

Quaraun the Insane was all of the above.

Quaraun was making Kelim more nervous than he'd ever been before.

He couldn't think when he was nervous.

Kelim didn't know what to say next.

He really hadn't thought this part through.

It had taken all the courage he could muster just to walk out into the enchanted forest in the first place. He'd almost turned back several times while going through the frozen swamp.

And now here he was at the front door of a strange transvestite Necromancer Elf who was in all likelihood, far more dangerous than Finderu the Masked.

Kelim felt faint.

This wizard did not wear a mask like Finderu, but he might as well have.

Quaraun perked up his ear to listen, waiting for Kelim to say something. His thin, pointed foot long ears twitched, nervously causing the chains connected back to his nose to shake and tinkle.

Kelim was mesmerized by the ears.

And the rings.

And the chains.

And the charms.

Quaraun had 24 earrings in each ear.

And 3 nose rings, 1 in the center, and one in each side.

Each ring in his ear, has a tiny linked, delicate chain in it. Each chain, connected back to one of the rings in his nose.

Every few links of the chain had tiny pink watermelon tourmaline crystal point hanging from it.

Kelim knew very little of Quaraun, and was unaware that Quaraun was a priest and wore the very distinctive robes and jewelry that are a part of his religion.

Though born in Quebec, Quaraun was raised in by Persian priests. Quaraun was also a transvestite. No. Not transgender. They are different. Quaraun made no attempt to be female. In fact, Quaraun hated females and wanted nothing to do with them. But he also had a deep distaste for male fashions. He found the bulk of male garb to be not only hideous to look at but uncomfortable to wear.

Quaraun often found himself dismayed by people saying certain fashions could only be worn by men, while other fashions could only be worn by women. And so Quaraun wore whatever he pleased, whenever he pleased, regardless of the gender the fashion was intended for.

Quaraun had both a love for pink and glitter, as well as a love for long flowing robes, sari, kimono, caftan, veils, and hijab. In love with the flowing many layered outfits wore by the Islamic women in the Persian villages he had grown up in, Quaraun had taken to dressing like them while he was still a young boy and continued to do so, for the rest of his life.

Thus Quaraun dressed, not as a priest, but rather as a priestess. Wearing very Muslim inspired clothes, including a hijab style veil.

Quaraun is the only Elf member of his religion. And was one of only two known priest still alive. The Di'Jinn were all dead, save Quaraun and ZooLock. But Kelim knew none of this. All Kelim knew was that standing before him was an Elf that looked to be a Muslim woman, but whom Kelim had been told was a male wizard, and Kelim stood very confounded and confused, and wasn't certain what to say or how to address the pink robed Elf.

The glittering chains and charms and crystals hanging from the 48 earrings and connecting back to his nose, were what was troubling Kelim the most, for he could not see hardly any of Quaraun's face.

Quaraun was said to be beautiful. More beautiful than any other being ever born. And while it definitely appeared that man behind the veils and jewels was exotically beautiful, all Kelim could really see what his nose and his eyes. Kelim wondered if the rumors of Quaraun's beauty, were in fact inspired by the mystery of his mostly hidden face.

Quaraun's long ears make it difficult for him to wear the hijab style veiling properly. Thus why he wore this elaborate network of rings and chains, as a way to keep his face covered.

The jewelry acted as a veil, exactly as Quaraun intended it to do.

Most of Quaraun's face was obscured from view by of this massive network of jewelry. The chains act like veiling, with only his eyes and lips visible. The action of his abnormally long ears constantly moving with his emotions, caused the crystal points and chains to make tinkling sounds every time moved his ears even the slightest bit.

Kelim continued to gawk, awestruck, jaw dropped at the Elf's outlandish eye popping pink, jewel encrusted female outfit, and it was beginning to annoy Quaraun. Quaraun was very shy, extremely introverted, kept to himself, lived as a hermit, did not like attention, and was easily made upset by people staring at him.

Kelim was staring at him.

Kelim was staring at Quaraun for a very long time.

The awkward silence, combined with Kelim's stare was unnerving Quaraun. He felt the desire to pull out his dagger and rip the Pixie's throat out. It was staring at him too much, for too long. It was making Quaraun uncomfortable. He did not like it.

Finally, seeing that Kelim was making no move to speak, Quaraun broke the silence.

"What do you want?" the Moon Elf demanded, sounding a more than little hostile.

Kelim looked up at the tall cross-dressed Elf.

Quaraun wasn't tall.

In fact, he was short.

But Kelim was shorter and Quaraun seemed taller than he was, by the way he carried himself.

Quaraun lowered his eyebrows, into a guarded expression which said to Kelim "You better have had a damned good reason for disturbing me. I have business to attend to and you are wasting my time."

The Elf was clearly was growing impatient, and his icy blue eyes were cold and staring and served as a sufficient warning to scare Kelim into losing whatever courage he had mustered up on his way getting here.

Kelim was suddenly struck by how much taller than himself the Necromancer was, and how very short he suddenly felt standing in front of Quaraun.

Quaraun's long ears make it difficult for him to wear the hijab style veiling properly. Thus why he wore this elaborate network of rings and chains, as a way to keep his face covered.

The jewelry acted as a veil, exactly as Quaraun intended it to do.

Most of Quaraun's face was obscured from view by of this massive network of jewelry. The chains act like veiling, with only his eyes and lips visible. The action of his abnormally long ears constantly moving with his emotions, caused the crystal points and chains to make tinkling sounds every time moved his ears even the slightest bit.

Kelim continued to gawk, awestruck, jaw dropped at the Elf's outlandish eye popping pink, jewel encrusted female outfit, and it was beginning to annoy Quaraun. Quaraun was very shy, extremely introverted, kept to himself, lived as a hermit, did not like attention, and was easily made upset by people staring at him.

Kelim was staring at him.

Kelim was staring at Quaraun for a very long time.

The awkward silence, combined with Kelim's stare was unnerving Quaraun. He felt the desire to pull out his dagger and rip the Pixie's throat out. It was staring at him too much, for too long. It was making Quaraun uncomfortable. He did not like it.

Finally, seeing that Kelim was making no move to speak, Quaraun broke the silence.

"What do you want?" the Moon Elf demanded, sounding a more than little hostile.

Kelim looked up at the tall cross-dressed Elf.

Quaraun wasn't tall.

In fact, he was short.

But Kelim was shorter and Quaraun seemed taller than he was, by the way he carried himself.

Quaraun lowered his eyebrows, into a guarded expression which said to Kelim "You better have had a damned good reason for disturbing me. I have business to attend to and you are wasting my time."

The Elf was clearly was growing impatient, and his icy blue eyes were cold and staring and served as a sufficient warning to scare Kelim into losing whatever courage he had mustered up on his way getting here.

Kelim was suddenly struck by how much taller than himself the Necromancer was, and how very short he suddenly felt standing in front of Quaraun.

Kelim felt as though he was closing up like a telescope growing smaller and smaller the more the Necromancer stared at him.

"You're uhm... I... uhm ... “

“I’m busy and you’re interrupting me, that’s what I am.”

“I ... you're uhm..."

"Spit it out, I haven't got all day."

"You're... you're... what are you?"

"Which what am I are you referring to? My being an Elf? Or my being a transvestite?"

"Uhm..."

"Doesn't matter. Either one, I don't like you talking about."

"Okay. Uhm..."

"You don't get many words out do you?"

"Uhm... I... no..."

“You’re a Pixie.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you know?”

“I...”

"Xandit Winsnot the Goblin sent you didn't he?"

"Uhm, yeah, kind of..."

"Kind of? Either he did, or he didn't."

"Well..."

"You are Kelim?"

"Yes... I..."

"You're in love with Finderu's daughter."

"Yeah... uhm... sort of..."

"Don't waste my time, Boy, what do you want from me?"

"Well... I... uhm... I... well...I... I thought... you know... that... uhm... maybe... people are saying you... I was just thinking... you know..."

"Spit it out, Boy, I haven't got all day. I am rather busy and I do hate being bothered, especially by Faeries. Faeries are so annoying. I can't stand them, they're nothing but trouble, every last one of them."

The Necromancer sounded increasingly more and more annoyed, which frightened Kelim even farther.

"People around the village are saying you grant wishes and stuff for people who desperately need your help," Kelim said, now speaking as fast as an auctioneer, "I guess I just came to find out if it was true."

"Grant wishes? What am I, a Leprechaun? I don't grant wishes."

"They say you lived with the Di'Jinn and you got powers like a...like...a..."

"I am a Wizard of the Di'Jinn Order. We are the masters of magic. The most powerful Wizards in the world. None compare to us, not in power or skill.”

“Aren’t the Di’Jinn all dead?”

“Yes. I killed them. I’m the last one.”

“But you can’t grant wishes?”

“That we are capable of making the impossible possible is not wish granting, it's us doing our jobs. You want to call it granted wishes, so be it. What is you damned wish?"

"I... uhm... how many wishes do... uhm... we... I... get?"

"How many wishes?"

"Uhm... er..."

"You certainly have trouble talking don't you?"

"Can I have three wishes?"

"What do you think I am? A genie in a bottle?"

"Uhhhh...."

"You can have a many wishes as you can afford. But I'm not cheap. Not many people can afford me."

"I have to pay you?"

"What? Do you think I just hand out magic potions for free?"

"I... uhm... I never thought about it."

"No one ever does. Everyone expects us Wizards to be making spell and crafting magic items. No one ever wants to pay us for the work now do they. And people wonder why my head collection gets added to so often."

"Head collection?"

"You buy my services and then decide you don't want to pay me, I'll take your head instead. You'll never cheat another wizard again, that's for sure."

"Do you cast love spells?"

"I cast all spells.”

“Even love spells?”

“Anything you want, I can do. I didn't earn the title of being the world’s most powerful wizard for nothing, you know."

"But you specialize in Di'Jinn magic?"

"Yes."

"Isn't that wish granting?"

"No."

"Well, what is Di'Jinn magic then?"

"For your information, I make bottles for putting things in. You got an enemy you don't want around any more, I got a bottle you can put them in. Keep them in your pocket and they'll never bother you again, and you'll always know where they are. Anything you want to keep safe and out of your hair, I can make a bottle for you to put it in. If you have a dragon bothering your village and you are too kind-hearted to kill it and want to relocate, I can make you a dragon bottle..."

Quaraun pulled a small heart shaped bottle from the beaded heart shaped bag that hung from his belt. On the tiny glass heart was the shape of a pocket watch with a brass dragon encasing it. Quaraun held the small heart-shaped glass vial filled with shimmering green goo up into the light.

“Is there a dragon in there?”

“Yes. PocketLich. I’d show her to you but she is as big as a mountain. I can not release her indoors. There’d be no house left if I did that. Crash right out through it, she would.”

“Why do you have a dragon in a bottle?”

"I like dragons," the pink Necromancer continued. "They make good pets and even better weapons. I've had this one for decades. I got her from Fire Mountain. She's a DracoLich now. I turned her into a Lich before putting her in the bottle. She does all my killing for me so I don't have to. Keeps her well fed and I don't have to worry about what to do with the bodies. Dragons, Liches, Demons, Genies...anything you have, you want put in a bottle, I can make you the bottle for holding it. That's what I do, Pixie."

Quaraun put the small glass bottle of shimmering green goo back in his bag.

"Of course it's not limited to bottles. I make boxes and bags as well."

He pulled a small vial that resembled a perfume bottle filled with icy blue liquid, from his pink bag.

"I can even take an entire village, houses, people, trees and all and lock it away in a bottle. Let time forget about them. Like they never existed. Wiped off the face of the earth forever. Until such a time as I decide to let them go free. Just like I did to the Moon Elves."

Quaraun put the small glass bottle of icy blue liquid back in his pink sequined heart shaped bag of holding.

"That is my speciality. But I'm a Mage as well. I study all classes of wizardry, witchcraft, sorcery, and hoodoo. I don't think, there's anything I can't do. At least there's nothing I have tried yet, that I ever failed at."

"You do sorcery?"

"Yes."

"That's forbidden."

"So's Necromancy and I'm a Necromancer."

"You're The Pink Necromancer."

"I am."

"You're not a Guild member are you?"

"No. I'm not."

"Finderu will be furious."

"Leader of The Guild? He's already furious. Price on my head gets higher every day."

"You're wanted by The Guild?"

"I'm The Guild's number one most wanted criminal."

"You sound proud of that."

"I am. While they've hunted and murdered every last Sorcerer and Necromancer on the planet, I continually elude them and now I hunt them."

"The Swamp Hag is one of The Guild's board members."

"Ghirardelli?"

"Yeah."

"She was."

"Then what are you doing here visiting her?"

"Expanding my head collection."

"What?"

"And you say you desperately need my help?" The deathly pale Elf titled his head and raised an eyebrow. "I am somewhat surprised at the thought of a Pixie seeking help from an Elf. Last I knew, Pixies didn't like Elves and wanted us all dead. And Pixies aren't known for needing help from anyone. Their Fairy Glamour tends to serve all their needs."

"Well, yes." Kelim hunched his shoulders and ducked his head down in a stance that said 'Don't hit me.' "I...uhm...I...I don't do magic. It's...it's not...not a skill I have...it's..."

"Talking doesn't seem to be a skill you have either."

"Well, yeah...that's...that's...that's kind a...kind of the problem, why...why I'm here...I..."

The Moon Elf stood back from the door a bit and gestured his jewelled hand for Kelim to step inside. Kelim hesitated a moment, but then decided it was now or never, and stepped into the mossy snow covered hovel.

"I have work to do. I kind of need to do it. I'll do it while you talk. Considering how long it takes you, if I wait for you to finish a sentence, I'll never get anything done. Go sit down over there and see if you can tell me what you want in less than an hour."

The inside was neat and smelled of fresh pine, green herbs, lavender, and cedar wood chips, it didn’t look worn down and neglected like the outside or the rest of the area. He took a closer look at his host, and noticed that even though he had pure white hair, his skin wasn’t wrinkled, almost like he was hanging in between young and old. Kelim the Toadstool Pixie couldn’t decide which he was.

"Where's uh...what's her name...the old swamp hag that lives here?"

"Ghirardelli?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Never can remember how to say her name."

“She’s decapitated in the other room.”

“Decapitated?”

“Hmm? Ah. Did I say the wrong word?”

“You ... you ... said ... she’s ... uhm ... she’s...”

"Incapacitated. Yes. That’s what I meant to say. She's temporally incapacitated at the moment."

"Incapacitated?"

"I suppose decapitated is a better word.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“But...”

“She can’t speak to you right now.”

“No?”

“No.”

“But...”

“You'll have to do with talking to me. How may I help you?"

"Where's the... uh... uhm... the.."

"The what?"

"The uhm... uhn... "

"Do you talk like this with everyone?"

"I... err... uhm..."

Quaraun pulled a gold throne from his bag and flung himself onto it's fuchsia velvet pillows.

"The Goblin was right, you really do have issues talking. You'll never get a woman if you can't get to the end of a sentence."

"The Witch."

"Th what?"

“The Witch.”

“Yes. What of her?”

“You said she was decapitated.”

“Yes. I did say that didn’t I? Slip of the tongue. Bad habit. Would you like to join her?”

“Join her?”

“Yes. There’s always plenty of room for more souls and heads. Heads and souls. One can never have enough or too many of either.”

"Where's the Witch?"

"Ghirardelli?" Quaraun looked around the room as though looking for something, then looked back to Kelim. "Oh, I left her laying around here somewhere."

"Can I talk to her?"

"I thought you wanted to talk to me?"

"You... you're..."

"I'm what?"

"Mean.”

“Am I?”

“And. Scary."

"I'm scary? Hahaha! Oh. That's hilarious."

Quaraun stopped laughing and became serious again.

"You could try talking to her. Won't do much good. She won't answer you. You'll definitely need a Necromancer to help you communicate with her. I suppose it's a good thing I'm here then."

Quaraun, pulled a small red bottle from his pocket and held it up to the light, peering inside.

"What do you want, Kelim? Spit it out."

"Well, I kind of need a wish granted, sort of..."

"A wish? Are we back on the topic of wishes again?"

"Well, yeah."

"From Ghirardelli? Or me?"

"Well...you...people around town talk, you know and they say...they say...well...you're like...like the most powerful wizard on the planet....and....and I have pr...problems and people told me...I...I...I should...I should come to you while you was here, because you travel and..."

"So, you’ve come to make a wish? Throw a penny in the wishing well? Maybe you should be wishing for the ability to speak." Quaraun chuckled at his joke. "A moment ago you desperately needed my help, now you seek to make a wish. Make up your mind, Boy. Help oe wish. Wish or help, what do you want?"

"Well...uhm...how are they different?"

Quaraun's pale blue eyes widened, then narrowed as he scrutinized the young Pixie. Quaraun slipped out of his throne and paced around the room straighten things and cleaning as he spoke.

"Wishes granted are very different from help given. Granted wishes are rarely helpful. They usually make things worse. Wishes must be carefully worded, because what you ask for is what you will get. The problem is word meanings are very important, but the average person is simply too retarded to understand the meanings of any words they use. Do you use words correctly?"

"I... uhm..."

"Perhaps you should first learn how to talk."

"You’re mean."

"No. You being unable to face the truth, is your problem, not mine. Me telling you the truth is not me being mean. You want a wish and wishes rely on bringing words to life. If you can't even say the words you want to wish for, how do you expect to say the correct words correctly. When it comes to wishes, correct word usage is important. A slip of the tongue, a cough, or a sneeze, and you could find yourself turned into a rabbit..."

"Than I'd have ears like you."

"Hmmmm. No trouble saying that did you? You're someone who gets by, by bulling others. You don't know how to talk to anyone, because you are too busy being a bully."

"I'm not a bully!"

"No? The fence out front of this house had other things to say about that."

"The fence?"

"Wishes are very different from help. I can grant your wishes or I can help you. I can do both or either. You don't see them as being different?"

"Well, no! Should I?"

Quaraun walked slowly around the Pixie, examining his shimmering green and gold butterfly wings.

Quaraun did not like Fae.

Good Fae.

Bad Fae.

Light Fae.

Dark Fae.

Water Fae.

Mountain Fae.

Trooping Fae.

Solitaries.

It didn't matter to him, the size or type, he didn't like them.

Any of them.

At all.

Especially not Phookas.

Except...

No.

He hated Phookas.

Yes.

That was it.

Faeries reminded him of Phookas.

BoomFuzzy was a Phooka.

King Gwallmaiic, King of the Faeries.

This Pixie was a Fairy.

It was reminding him of Faeries.

Which reminded him of Phookas.

Which reminded him of BoomFuzzy.

He pondered the possibility of explaining to a Fae the difference between a wish and being in actual need of help, but concluded that he had yet to meet a Fae capable of logical thought or reasoning, and so trying to be either logical or reasonable with one, was absolutely pointless.

"No. I suppose not. Fae have no logic or common sense in them at all. Ants have more intelligence. Too lazy to help yourselves. Always gotta bum off others. No self sufficiency in them at all. Ants are self sufficient you know. Do all the hard work themselves. You could learn something from ants. Though I do need more souls and willing souls don’t often come knocking at the door willing to throw themselves at me. So you desperately need my help with a wish then?"

"But I just... said... well... yeah...uhm...yes?"

"Alright. What is it then, this wish that you so desperately need my help with?"

"Well, you see, there's this...this...uhm...well... there's a...uhm...a....in the village...she...uhm..."

"A girl?"

Kelim blushed and stared at the wooden floorboards.

Quaraun shook his head.

"It's always a girl. It's beyond me what you see in females. Nothing good about any of them, far as I've ever been able to tell. All they are good for is making babies and I can't see that that's very useful either. Babies just grow up to be adults and there aren’t a lot of good ones out there."

“Weren’t you in love?”

"Pixies," Quaraun muttered to himself, as he made his way across the room to a shelf with more small glass bottles on it. "I hate Faeries. Pixies no better than any other Fae..."

"Are you talking to yourself?"

"Oh course I'm talking to myself, I'm insane, remember? And there's no one else with a brain around here for me to talk to, now is there?"

"I'm here."

"That's exactly my point."

"You're mean, aren't you?"

"I'm an Elf."

"You don't have to be mean."

"I'm the Grand High Emperor of The Triple Planets, I can be whatever the Hell, I want."

"You..."

"Have you ever even talked to an Elf before?"

"No. We don't see many Elves around here."

"I've noticed that. Is it any wonder why, with Finderu around here?"

"Finderu?"

"I don't like Finderu, do you?"

"No."

"Good, then we're on the same page. Now what do you want from me?"

"Can you cast a love spell on Ofelia?"

"Cast a ... You want me to cast love spell? You don't know anything about magic do you?"

"Wha...what do you mean?"

"Magic is great and dandy for what it does, but magic has its limits. Things it can't do."

"So you can't cast a love spell?"

"That's not what I said. I'm a Wizard of the Di'jinn Order, I can cast any spell. I'm just not sure if you know what you want."

"I want a love spell."

"Do you even know what a love spell does?"

"It makes someone fall in love with you."

Quaraun shook his head.

"Why must I work with idiots and fools? Fools and idiots. Fucking imbeciles."

"I'm not an idiot..."

"Well then, you must be a fool."

"I'm a Pixie..."

"And I'm an Elf."

"So?"

"So you're the idiot who came to me for help, because you couldn't find anyone else with enough brain to help you."

"I... uhm..."

"You know I'm right."

"Uhmm..."

"Bit of advice, Boy, don't argue with an Elf, especially not one who is also a Di'Jinn. Especially not one as arrogant as me.”

“I’m kind of surprised you admit it.”

“What that I’m arrogant? I know what I am, Boy, I’m not going to hide it. You're lucky I don't cut off your head and stuff you in a bottle."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I'm a Di'Jinn, it's what I do."

"Putting heads in bottles?"

"No," Quaraun pulled a severed head out of the pink heart-shaped bag of holding hanging from his belt. Fresh blood was still dripping from the ragged flesh of the severed throat. The eyes blinked and looked around. The mouth was gagged and moving as though trying to scream. "I keep the heads in my pocket. I keep the headless bodies in a bottle. Keeps them from getting back up and walking around. They need their heads to be resurrected, but not their bodies. A talking head can't go nowhere without its body. They are stuck here with me for eternity. Each has their own bottle.”

“Who... who...” Kelim pointed to the head in Quaraun’s hand.

“Who is this? This one is Ghirardelli. The Swamp Hag who lived here. Fucking Guild member. Would rather protect Finderu and lose her head than tell me where he is."

"You're holding a head."

"Of course I am. I'm a Necromancer. Did you forget that?"

"You're... you're..." Kelim stared bug eyed at Ghirardelli's head.

"I'm what?"

"A murderer."

"Yes. Of course I am. What did you expect? Pink ponies and purple unicorns pooping out rainbows? I’m a fucking Necromancer. We kill people for a living, so we can resurrect them as our undead minions. Talking heads are particular favorite of mine. Them and Liches.”

“Is that what Necromancers do?”

“No, we plant roses and hand out candy canes to children. How stupid are you?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Clearly. I’m a Necromancer. Being able to commit murder is kind of in the job description. I didn't used to be. Pity. That what love does to you, you know? Did you know I'm the victim of a love spell? And I’m the fucking mage who cast it. I'm very good at love spells. I cast one on myself and my lover, centuries ago, but he died and now I'm insane, and cut off heads. Still think you want a love spell cast on you?"

Quaraun stared at the head, holding it face to face with himself.

"What's love have to do with... with... that." Kelim pointed to the head.

"She hated BoomFuzzy."

"What?"

"She helped Finderu found The Guild."

"I don't understand."

"I don't expect you would. You're neither Elf, nor Wizard."

"Did you kill her?"

"I'll kill you as well, if you refuse to cease squabbling with me."

Quaraun placed the head back in his bag.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Kill her."

"Oh, I don't know," the annoyed Elf seethed, sarcastically. "Perchance, maybe, it might possibly, involve something to do with the fact of my being ever just so desperately insane. Or maybe it’s because I’m a Necromancer. And slaughtering people in as much gore filled carnage and bloodshed as we can muster, is we Necromancers do for a living. Or maybe, just maybe, it might be because that fucking little nosey assed, psychotic bitch, couldn't mind her own damned business and she encouraged Finderu to plot to assassinate BoomFuzzy. Or as it may as well be, it’s none of your fucking god damned business. You came hitherto me for assistance with wishes not to interrogate me on my habits."

"You really are insane, aren't you?"

"No. Actually I'm not. And people don't refer to me as insane because I collect heads because most people aren't even aware I do that. They call me insane because of the fashion of my attire. Now do you want your love potion or not?"

Kelim blushed again.

"Shy one, aren't we?"

"I..."

"Always bargain during the harvest season. It's the wrong time of year for love spells."

"What?" Kelim felt confused, as though he's missed something.

Quaraun had pulled a large wooden chest from his hip bag and was now unpacking it. It too seemed to be a bag of holding, as he was unloading lots of other boxes out of it, way more than what should have fit it it. Or perhaps it was a Mimic, as it bit him a few times, while he was unpacking it.

The ancient wizard was muttering to himself as he unpacked smaller boxes out of the bigger boxes. And than he unpacked lots of tiny potion bottles out of the smaller boxes.

"Passion potion. Appreciation draught. Comeuppance cordial. Reckoning potion. Cupid's sachet. Retribution potion. Hot Footing powder. Jack balls. Friendship potion. Reconciliation elixir. Worry potion. Friendship draught. Retaliation cordial. Black salt. Punishment potion. Compassion sachet. Heartbroken potion. Goffer powder. Gris-gris. Fear potion. Harmony elixir..."

"I want a love spell, not those other ones."

"Shut up," Quaraun snapped at the boy. "I'm looking for something. Stop interrupting me."

"Okay."

The Elf went back to talking to himself, reading the lables off bottles and jars and little pepper pots as he unboxed them and laid them out on the floor all around him.

"Anger potion. Gratitude draught. Requital cordial. Arithmetic potion. Cupid's potpourri. Revenge potion. Quarrel powder. Holy Water. Good will potion. Harmony elixir. Misery potion. Intimacy draught. Eye for an eye cordial. Diabolical savor. Torture potion. Sympathy sachet. Empathy potion. Uncrossing powder. Wangas. War Water. YaYa potion. Seven Orisha elixir... ah! Here it is! Love potion."

Quaraun held up a tiny red glass bottle.

"You keep everything pre made in bottles?"

"Of course I do.”

“Why?”

“A wise person is always prepared for anything.”

“But couldn’t you just, I don’t know, make it in the kitchen? Seems a trouble to have to carry it around with you.”

“Look around you, Boy. I don’t live here. You know that. I don’t live any where. I’m a homeless wandering vagabond.”

“But couldn’t you just use this house?”

“This isn't my house you know. I don't know what ingredients she has available. Or where anything it. When I'm at home I can make all my potions ahead of time. Well, all the ones that can be made ahead of time.”

“You just said you were homeless.”

“Yes. I did. And I am. But I have places I go. People who let me stay with them.”

“Oh. But I thought you was going to make me a love potion special just for me.”

“Are you willing to wait long enough for me to make one special just for you?”

“I can wait. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You really don’t know nothing about potion making do you?”

“No. Why?”

“How long are you expecting to wait?”

“How long does it take?”

“About 4 months.”

“Four months!”

“Maybe more.”

“More?”

 “Yes. Depends on which recipe I use and what plants are available in the area. Could be a couple of years if I had to travel to some distant land in search of, I don’t know, some rare black orchid.”

“Years? Multiple years to make one potion?”

“Oh, yes. You were’n’t expecting me to wave a wand and go POOF! Were you?” Quaraun pulled out his wand as he spoke and waved it around over his head.

“Well, yeah, kind of. You are a wizard, after all.”

“You been reading too many Fairy Tales, Boy. Real world magic, isn’t like what they tell you in Fantasy novels.”

“But magic is real, right?”

“Oh, yes. Magic is most certainly real. I just think, real magic, may not be quite so glamourous as you are imagining it to be.”

“So, no magic wands?”

“No.”

“But you are holding one.”

“What? This?” Quaraun waved the wand around again. “This is nothing.”

“Than why do you have it?”

“In case I need to kill someone.”

“Kill some one?”

“Yes.”

“With a little wooden stick?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Well, usually, I just wave it around while I talk, and when they least expect it, I ram it up their nose and through their brain. And POOF! Instant death by magic wand. No magic needed.”

“You’re kind of violent, aren’t you.”

“The world is a violent place, Kelim.”

“Of, course, I can also just do this.”

Quaraun spun around, aimed the wand, and a brilliant purple bolt of lightening shot out from the end of the wand and blew up the table on the other side of the room, leaving nothing but a smoldering piles of ashes where moments ago had been a table.

“That... that.. how..”

“I am the world’s most powerful wizard.”

“But... you said...”

“That wizards couldn’t do that sort of thing? Yes, I did. And most wizards can’t. White Magic, Green Magic, or any of those other tuttie-fruittie legal forms of magic can’t produce those kinds of results. Dark arts, my boy, are far more powerful, and allow forr the type of magic, I do.”

“You’re evil. Aren’t you?”

“Evil is a matter of perspective. I do not see myself as evil, Kelim. But Finderu and his Guild, they most certainly think of me as evil. As does most of the high populting snooty citezens of the world.”

“So, you...”

Quaraun ignored Kelim and went on talking.

“These things don't make themselves instantly you know.” Quaraun held up a potion bottle. ”When it comes to love potions, people want them, now, not a week from now or a month from now, not tomorrow or the next day. They want immediate, now. You want this NOW, right?”

“Well, yeah...”

“See? I know what my customers want. I know how the consumer thinks. Instant gratification. That’s all any one wants. Love or otherwise, they always want instant resultss. You want instant results, yes?”

“Yes.”

“They don't like to be told it takes me a week to reduce the flower essence down into oils. Do you want to wait weeks for me to gather 1,000 pink rose petals and boil them down into a reduced goop?”

“No.”

“No!. Of course not! And who am I to make you wait? They don't want to hear that it'll take me 6 months to travel to where the flower grows and pick it.You wouldn’t want to wait 6 months, would you?”

“No.”

“You want Ofelia, now, not 6 months from now. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Exactly! They don't want to wait weeks for the next blue moon for me to prepare it under. By having the potions pre-made, I can give you instant reults, that no other wizard can provide. They are too busy, sitting in their hovels, waiting for clients to come and give them requests. Me? I just make some of everything and have them already and waiting for you, before you even know you needed it. I know who wants what and make it before they get here.”

“Did you know I would be coming?”

 “Yes. I did. I just did not know when. But I knew, at some point, you would find me. So, I have several love potions already made, some that took me many moons to make.”

“Moons?”

“I am a Moon Elf. We do everything by moon phases.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. Spells take weeks, months, to prepare. Certain things must be done on certain days. Specific moon phases. It takes months to get all parts made, just for a single potion, because so many moon phases are involved.”

“Is it really that important?”

“Yes. And a man with a horney dick can't wait even minutes for a potion to convince the girl to let him fuck her. So they certainly won't wait months for me to make their potion. Thus, lots of boxes of lots of bottles of potions that I made months ago. I've a potion for everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything. The advantage of being a traveling wizard for hire, and why my services are more in demand. Even though I’m a wanted criminal with a price on my head. No one turns me in, because they need something from me, and they know they can ONLY get it from me.”

“But there are other wizards...”

“No other wizard offers my services. Isn’t that why you came to ME, and not one of the other wizards?”

“Uhm... yeah... kind of... every one says you’re the best.”

“I AM the best.”

“Did you even consider going to one of the local wizards?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Uhm... they’re all friends of Finderu.”

“Finderu.”

“Yeah. This town is kind of the hot spot for wizards. Every street has one or two. But, I don’t know...”

“They’re all Guild members.”

“Yeah.”

“Keep their noses clean. Never touch any spooky, scary, booga-booga black arts, dark magic.”

“Yeah.”

“They heal warts and pimples and the common cold, but can’t call down thunder storms or raise the dead or make Ofelia fall in love with you.”

“Yeah.”

“A bunch of incompetent losers and are nothing but wannabes in wizard’s clothing.”

“Yeah... it’s like... like... like they are a club and... and ... they only help wealthy people with aches and pains, and... I don’t know... nothing any of them does ever seems like real magic.”

“And that’s wy you came to me.”

“Yeah, because, you... you... well... I think other wizards are scared of you.”

“They are.”

“It’s like, what they do isn’t real, but wat you do is real, and they are so scared of you, that they... they...”

“Want to kill me to eliminate the competition?”

“Yeah. That too, but.. but... also...”

“They want to kill me so know one ever finds out what they do isn’t real magic, because if anyone compared what they do to what I do, they’d know the Guild members were a bunch of phoneys.”

“Yeah. That.”

“And that my boy is exactly why the Guild wants me dead. They may say it’s for all those other reasons, but really they are just a bunch of losers, incompetent, bumbling wizards who can’t cast a proper spell, can’t brew a decent potion, and they know it. They are jealous of my skill, and want me dead, for no other reason, than I am their biggest competition.”

“How come you have more skill? Why can’t they do what you do?”

“I am 750 years old, and I was born, what people called ‘A Chosen One’”

“A Chosen One?”

“Yes. At the time I was born, there was some prophecy about a child with the powers of a god, that was going to be born, and everyone thought it was me.”

“Was it you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Maybe not. That’s the point. The point is, my mother started teaching me magic arts when I was 3 years old, and she took me to visit these priests who supposedly were going to school me in magic.”

Quaraun paused. The thought of his mother, seemed to pain him. He became visibly upset.

“Did they?”

“Teach me magic? No. It was a trap. An ambush. The priests turned out to be Thullids. ZooLock in fact.”

“ZooLock! ZooLock the Great?”

“Yes.”

“Protector of the innocent? Defeater of Oolong the Stupid?”

“Yes. That ZooLock.”

“You’ve actually met him?”

“Yes.”

“Wow!”

“A fan of his?”

“Isn’t everyone?”

“No.”

“He’s like, like... I don’t know, he’s like the most famous monk ever.”

“Yes. I do believe he is. And he kept me prisoner for thousands of years.”

“What? I thought you were 750 years old?”

“Quaraun is.”

“Aren’t you Quaraun?”

“Quaraun died centuries ago.”

“I don’t understand. I thought...”

“Quaraun’s mother took him to a group of priests, to school him in magic. But it was a trap. An ambush. The priests turned out to be Thullids. ZooLock was on the run. He’d kidnapped The Sacred Pink JellyFish.”

“She died didn’t she?”

“The Scared Pink JellyFish?”

“Yeah.”

“No. Quaraun did. The Elf died. But I still live.”

“Aren’t you Quaraun?”

“No. I’m The Sacred Pink JellyFish. ZooLock ripped opened the Elfling’s skull and put me inside. I ate Quaraun’s brain. He died a horrible death, that I might live. If he was The Chosen One, he died before anyone had a chance to find out for certain. But there was something different about him. That’s why ZooLock chose him fo my host. I was able to grown and reach my full potential with his body. Something I could not have done in another Elf.”

“So you are a Thullid?”

“Yes. I am a Thullid.”

“Your the Thullid Goddess, The Sacred Pink JellyFish?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s why you can do magic, no one else can do?”

“Exactly.”

“So, you do Thullid magic, because you are a Thullid?”

“Yes.”

“So than, Quaraun is Demon Possessed?”

“How do you come by that logic?”

“Well, aren’t Thullids, Demons? And aren’t you living inside the body of an Elf, controlling his mind and thoughts and body?”

“Yes. Thiis is all true.”

“Than you are a Demon possessed Elf, right?”

“I suppose one could see it that way.”

“Okay.”

“And that does not bother you?”

“No. This is great in fact!”

“Is it?”

“Yes!”

“How so?”

“Because that means your magic is real magic. It’s Demon Magic! That means you really can make Ofelia love me!”

“Do you think you can afford me?”

“I have money.”

“What use has a Demon for money?”

“What do people usually pay you with if not money?”

“Their souls.”

“You want my soul?”

“What I WANT is Finderu’s soul.”

“Finderu?”

“And his head.”

“But... uhm... does that mean you want me to kill Finderu?”

“Ideally, yes.”

“But Finderu is Ofelia’s father. If I kill her dad, then she’ll never love me.”

“Ah! But with the proper love spell, that won’t matter.”

“Won’t it?” the little, green and gold winged Pixie asked.

“No. If I cut your soul in half and cut her soul in half, and put a half of your soul in her and a half of her soul in you, the two of you will be bound together, forever, for time and all eternity. She’ll cherish you from beyond the grave.”

Quaraun’s voice faded into sad, distant thoughts. He was soul bound, but his lover was dead. And yet he could still feel every thought, every emotion, every scream of agony from beyond the grave.

“Does it hurt?” Kelim asked, unable to mask the fear in his voice. The thought of death terrified him to no end. He didn’t like thinking about death.

“Hmmm?” Quaraun’s mind had drifted off into a hazy, foggy, fizzy, figgy, daze as he thought gloomy, dreary thoughts of his dead lover. “Does what hurt?”

“Cutting your soul in half?”

“Oh, no. That part is quite painless. Love, however, is never painless. The pain comes later. Death, brings with it, such lose, such loneliness. You feel everything they feel. You know all their thoughts. All their emotions. You are sad when they are sad. You feel the joy when they laugh. Their mirth bubbles inside you. When they are cut, you bleed with them. And when they die, you feel every last throws of death, as they feel it. Their joys become your joys. Their sufferings, your sufferings. Their death, your eternal doom.”

“I don’t want eternal doom. I want love.”

“Doom and gloom. Gloom and doom. You can not have true love without true suffering. They travel hand in hand. Skipping across your soul in fettered glee. Tormenting your mind. Haunting your spirit. Delighting in the joys of squashing your soul into the dirt. Love hurts. But your soul screams for it. Longs for it. Begs for it. No matter the cost. Love will trample your heart. Beat it into the ground. And you will want it ever still, ever more. The more love hurts you, the more you crave it.”

“Uhm… I want Ofelia to love me, not trample me into the ground.”

“Females trample the men they love into the ground. Without a love spell, she will use you and lose you. With a love spell, she’ll just use you. It is the nature of women and is precisely why I do not like women. Females are horrible creatures. I absolutely despise them.”

The blue eyed Elf wrinkled his nose in disgust as he thought of women.

“Ofelia isn’t like that.”

“No? And how exactly would you know? You’ve never even met her. You know nothing about her. You are mesmerized by her beauty. You know nothing of her personality. You lust after her. You do not love her. If you loved her, you would take her with all her flaws. And you would enjoy it when she trampled you.”

“Uhm…. uh… okay… but… uhm…”

“Back to the uhms again.”

“You became rather morbid there. I want love, not, that, whatever that is that you are describing.”

“Boy, you know nothing of love.”

Quaraun shook the thought from his mind, and his voice became overly cheerful and chipper.

“Together. Forever. True, genuine, authentic love can never die. Love that stays, ever and always. Unbreakable. Unshakable. The beauty of such a romance! To never be parted! Not even by death. The sensations of such a love. You can not even begin to imagine. The pair of thee shall be told of in legends.”

“I...uhm.. that.. not... I... don’t want... I just...”

“Soul binding too much for you?”

“I just want her to fall in love with me.”

“You do not want a romance that lasts forever?”

“I... I...uhm... I don’t... I... uhm...”

“Back to the uhms again. All right. We shall take note of that. Soul binding is too big and scary of a love spell for you. You want transitory love, not everlasting love. What else have we got?”

“You have more than one?”

“Yes, I do. What we need to do it to determine which love spell you prefer. I can have the potion you want in minutes. You don’t have to wait months if you get your potions from me. But, we need to figure out what exactly it is you want it to do.”

“I want a love spell.”

“Yes. You’ve said that. But which type do you want?”

“I... uhm... do other wizards have different types of love spells?”

 “No. They do not. That is why their conjurations so often fail, and mine do not. Every customer has different urgencies. There is no one size fits all love spell. I’m a better wizard than other wizards because I know what the consumer wants. I let the customer think they are invariably correct, even when they aren’t. You want a love potion. You can’t be talked out of a love potion. I have love potions pre-prepared precisely for folks like you. So, you shall have a love potion. Now to work out WHICH love potion is appropriate for you and your case.”

“Which love potion?”

“Yes. Which?”

“Are there many?”

“Yes. I have many. All do something different.”

“Is it many, as if a few or lots?”

“Oh, my, yes! Thousands. I don’t have so many pre-made. Many can’t be pre-made and must be made specific to the couple in question. But we can start you out with a pre-made one. And if that doesn’t manage the action you expect it to, we can think about a custom prepared one for you.”

"Why so many different?"

"There are different types of love."

"There are?"

"You don't love your mother the same way you love your wife, now do you?" Quaraun eyed the Pixie suspiciously. "Of course, you're a Faerie, so perhaps you do."

"I want Ofelia to love me. Whatever type of love that is."

"Tis planting season, not harvest season and you are bargaining for a great cause..."

"A great cause?" Kelim didn't understand.

The Moon Elf seemed to be speaking only half of what he was thinking.

Either that or he truly was insane and not capable of thinking too clearly.

Kelim didn't think he had ever met an insane person before. So he wasn't sure what to expect from this man, rumoured to be insane.

"Love is a great cause. Perhaps the only cause truly worth fighting for." Quaraun stopped what he was doing and turned to the Pixie. "Would YOU fight for love?"

"Uhm...I... uhm...”

"Uhm is not an answer. You hesitate at too many things, Boy."

The Elf snapped his perfectly manicured fingers in Kelim’s face.

“It’s a simple answer, Boy, yes or no. There’s nothing to think about, no ahhs, errs, or uhmms, it should be just automatic: yes or no.”

“I’m just a boy, you know!” Kelim pouted. “I don’t know all the right answers yet. I’m not some ancient wise old Wizard who’s spent a lifetime studying brick a brack tomes.”