The prompt for today’s story, courtesy of
, is : Write that idea about elves.Salfin had been trapped in darkness for a long time. He remembered his last moment well; how could he not? His were people of long memory and ancient story. He, Salfin, Shieldbearer to Balderin the Fearless, had stood on the Ridge of Telperferin at the head of the Third Army of Light against the last onslaught of the dread goblin Slornor the Wretched and his vast horse of goblins, werewolves, trolls, and other dark creatures. The other elves that stood with him had titles too, no doubt, and naturally Salfin could recall them all, but he didn’t have them to hand at the moment; he was contemplating his existence in a bubble of darkness. If only that one goblin with the magic wand hadn’t got off his spell right before Salfin hit him, then maybe - well, it didn’t do to think about that.
The thing was, the darkness had begun to change. All of a sudden, there was a splinter of light nearby. Then very slowly the splinter widened to a crack. Salfin willed himself towards it. Next thing he knew he was out of the darkness and flying forward into the air, surrounded by glorious silvery light.
The moment after that, he landed facedown in a pile of snow. Salfin didn’t mind, really; he had obviously come out in the northern kingdoms of the Frost Dwarves of Flurnak the Kind. That meant he could look forward to a nice long winter of drinking beer and cocoa, sleeping very late under deep blankets, tucked away in safety under rocky fastnesses. Meanwhile Flurnak would send messages to let the Elves know that Salfin had returned, and-
“Fa la la la la la la la!” A burst of song met Salfin’s ears. He couldn’t place the tune, although he knew all the melodies of his people from woodland to mountain hall. Salfin clambered upright and drew his sword (Briannon the Flashing, Slayer of Bormoth, Vanquisher of Mists, etc., etc). Across the snowy field in which he stood, he saw a group of beings carrying a tree, singing their hearts out.
“Strike the harp and join the chorus, fa la la la la la la la la!”
“Strike the harp?” Salfin said. His beloved Niana had been a renowned player upon the harp. He knew not where she was now. Flurnak might know. But here these people were, singing of assault upon harps, and carrying off a tree no less- it was too much.
Salfin leapt forward, howling a war cry. Then he skidded to a stop. The beings carrying the trees. Their ears. They were…. Elves?
“What… who are you?” he stammered. “What is this place?”
“Er,” one of them said, “I’m Chip. Deputy Head Elf to Santa. This is the North Pole, and it’s only twelve days till Christmas! Who’re you?”
Salfin had a sudden terrible feeling that he had no idea what they were talking about.
Lord of the Rings meets Will Ferrel's ELF. HILARIOUS.