Fairies Don't Flirt

Stephen “B5” Jones

Smashwords Edition
Although this is a free ebook, it remains the copyrighted property of the author.  If you enjoyed this book please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com.  Thank you for your support.

Copyright 2012 Stephen Jones

The cover is from PublicDomainPictures.net.  “wallpapers-bridge” By Larisa Larisa.
A special thanks to Beverly Basey-Jones; for editing; also to the citizens of SFFWorld.com for comments and crits. 
Fairies Don't Flirt

--There's a new Sheriff in the forest of Nobtree.  Say yur prayers pilgrim.--

The new Sheriff of Nobtree forest was a troll, and the elves were not happy about it, not one little bit.  
After the votes were all counted and the announcement made, the elves suspected the election had been tampered with and demanded an immediate recount.  The trolls cheered and started drinking, and the fairies completely missed the point and wandered off to do their own little things, whatever they might be.  So when Varantcea, a young elf with dark hair and misty eyes, walked into the sheriff’s office, Sheriff Boglo Stimp was on his guard.  A troll can never be too careful when dealing with elves, especially the young ones.
“You must help me,” Varantcea said, once he’d introduced himself and waited impatiently as Boglo wrote down the name.  Elves were a hurried lot, as if some detail might escape their grasp if they were to relax for more than just the merest of moments.
“Beer?” Boglo asked, thinking the youngling could use a little liquid relaxation.  
“I’ve been robbed you stupid troll!”
He was beginning to sound like an elf with some kind of problem.  Boglo relaxed a bit.  This visit would be official after all.
“If you have a problem and you want me to do something about it,” Boglo said, glaring up at Varantcea.  “Then you have to tell me the whole story.  Tell it from beginning to end, and leave out not even the smallest of details.”  Even a youngling should know this, the sheriff thought.
“I was at the spring festival,” the elf started.
“..which started two days ago,” Boglo said.  The elf was not doing well, from the start he left out important details.
Varantcea bristled a little, caught his breath and continued.
“It was first night, I was just standing to the side,” the elf said.  “Minding my own business and watching the festivities when a fairy lit upon a streetlamp beside me and started flirting with me.”
“Fairies don’t flirt,” Boglo said.  The elf looked at him as if he didn’t understand, so he added.  “They’re ethereal.”
The elf bristled again, obviously this was his preferred story telling style, though Boglo found the irritated interludes distracting.
“She said her name was Lapris,” Varantcea said.  “The ‘s’ is silent of course.  She asked what I did for a living.  Where I had my clothes tailored.  What I like in a female.  Whether I’d ever been kissed by a fairy.  Those kinds of things.  As we talked she would land on my shoulder, or touch my hair, or play around my finger tips.“
”It does sound as if she was flirting with you,” Boglo admitted.  “Strange.  What happened next?”
“She asked me whether I had ever walked a fairy home.”
“And did you walk her home?” Boglo asked.  He was beginning to form a theory on this strange case.
“I started to,” the elf said.  “I think I did, but then I blacked out.  I don’t know what happened.  I woke up this morning laying in a grove, my money and jewels, even my belt with the golden buckle, all gone.”
“Which grove?”  Boglo asked.  His theory was correct, he was sure, but there was more information to be collected.
“Butterpail grove,” the elf said.  
It was a fair walk from the village in Nobtree forest, therefore the elf must have walked directly to his office, assuming he awoke shortly after sunrise.
“Then I have solved your problem,” the Sheriff said proudly.  “Lapris, the ‘s’ being silent, wasn’t a fairy.  It was obviously a wraith, in disguise of course, who robbed you of your money, your jewels and your belt buckle.”
The elf did not seem to be impressed at all.  Boglo was beginning to think he could not understand even the most simplest of matters.
“How does that solve my problem?” Varantcea demanded.  “Whatever she is, she knocked me out and robbed me.”
“Yes,” Boglo said.  “But she is a wraith, and according to the Wraith act of ‘68:  Section 4321 subsection GA4; In acts of criminal mischief excluding murder, all requests for vengeance, retribution or restitution shall be forwarded to the Grand Chief of the wraiths on the form provided to the Sheriff of Nobtree specifically for that purpose.  To date no form has been successfully submitted.”
The young elf sank down into a chair.  It was true, wraith forms were known for their astronomical level of contrariety.  There was a full scroll which had to be filled out in the most exact manner just to look upon the trees in their forest.  It was hardly worth the time, well, except maybe for the tree that did imitations.
“That’s the worst of it,” he sighed.
“You don’t understand,” Boglo said as he lit his pipe.
“What’s not to understand?” Varantcea said.  “There’s nothing I can do.”
“Youngling,” the Sheriff said gruffly, sitting up in his chair.  “Do you know what trolls are good at?”
“You mean, like drinking?”
“What else?”
The elf looked at Boglo, completely clueless, surely his elfin education had failed him.
“They’re good at counting gold, taking inventory of treasure... “ As he looked at Boglo his eyes began to open wider.  The lights were finally coming on.  
“...And filling out forms,” Boglo finished for him.  “We played with wraith forms in pre-school, before snack time.”
“Chablis, or whatzit your name?” the sheriff called.  The sheriff's job came with a dour elf secretary.  Every time Boglo saw her she was wrinkling her nose or backing to the wall to let him walk by.  Once she'd spit in the trash after he walked by.  He'd taken to leaving a tankard of his Uncle Serro's best sour mash on her desk in the morning.  She really did need to loosen up.
To date she hadn't taken a single drink.
“Chiambre,” she said in her usual dour voice.  Her attitude would be a project for a later day.  
“Get me the Wraith restitution/revenge request forms from the cabinet over there,” Sheriff Boglo said.  The elf secretary shot across the room to get the scrolls, especially after the Sheriff reached over to give her a reassuring pat on the butt.
Boglo sat back and started sharpening his quills as the secretary dropped the first three scrolls on the desk in front of him, from a safe distance, then went to retrieve the rest.
“How long do you think it’ll take?” the elf asked.
Boglo looked over the collection of scrolls both on his desk and in the cabinet, figuring a quick estimate.
“About five and a half kegs,” he answered as he opened the first scroll.  “Leave your information with Chia--um--hombre and I'll contact you when we're ready to deliver them.  You will be required to accompany me.”
As the elf left, slightly more hopeful than he had been before, Boglo turned to his secretary.
“Send a message to the Wraith liazon,” he said.  “Tell them I require a meeting with Grand Chief Sokree in two or three days.  If we can get an afternoon meeting that would be best, but do not let them know what we want...and have the pub deliver six kegs to the back door.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”  Varantcea asked for the third time.  The elf had appeared at his office in the middle of the morning, as directed, with an empty wagon parked out front.  Then he had helped load the wagon with scrolls.  “Wraiths can be vindictive.”
“Especially when they lose,” Boglo said.  “But I am the sheriff, and I will do my job.”
The wraith delegation was in the primary clearing in Butterpail grove, as requested, their dark wispy robes flowing about in some ethereal wind.  Sheriff Boglo stopped at the edge of the clearing and bowed three times.  It took some convincing to get the elves to do the same.
Then he pulled the wagon half way to the King and stopped to bow again.  Then Boglo brought the wagon to the outside of the circle where the King and his entourage were, and walked into the circle, once more bowing three times in front of the throne.
“You know our protocols,” Grand Chief Sokree said.  “I am impressed.”
“Grand Chief Sokree,” Boglo said.  “I have a complaint against one of your subjects.”
“It will be dismissed if you don't have the proper...” the Grand Chief started.  Boglo took five large scrolls out of his wagon and placed them at the feet of the Grand Chief.
Two of the Grand Chief's advisers opened the scrolls and looked at them long and hard.  Boglo was not impatient, and knew they would not do their job quickly; it was not the wraith way.  Both of the elves had taken to pacing the clearing before the advisers made their report to the Grand Chief of the Wraiths.
Boglo held his glee to himself as Grand Chief Sokree frowned at his advisers.  It seemed he had learned something of value in pre-school after all.  However the process was not yet complete.  In either case, it was too soon to celebrate.
“Sheriff Boglo,” Grand Chief Sokree said.  The Sheriff approached, much as he had before.  Not minding a bit about the time it took.
“ Grand Chief Sokree,” Boglo said.  “Have you considered my complaint?”
“Have you filled out the proper wraith restitution forms?”  There was a glimmer of victory in his eyes, at least until the elf Varantcea returned from the wagon with three more hefty scrolls.
“I have,” Boglo said.
“Very well,” Grand Chief Sokree said, standing.  “I will have my advisers look over your paperwork, and I will contact you when I am ready.”
It was the moment Sheriff Boglo had been hoping for.
“No Grand Chief,” he said.  “That is not acceptable.”
“How dare you?” One of the advisers said.
“As you must know, Grand Chief,” Boglo said as respectfully as possible.  “According to the Wraith liaison act of '71; Section 2398, subsection T5b:  When the proper Wraith complaint forms and the proper restitution forms are presented to the Grand Chief by any elected or sovereign official from outside wraith territory, the Grand Chief is obligated to review all of the said documents with his own eyes and with the full measure of the claim in mind, make a ruling before sundown of the same day... Which should be in about an hour.”
The advisers looked shocked at first, but they were wraiths, and they were accustomed to all of the convoluted acts and laws.  They looked at the Grand Chief and nodded, then started handing scrolls to him.
Boglo let the act go on for a few minutes before he pulled a small scroll out of his jacket and held it up.
“Unless …” Sheriff Boglo said.
One of the younger wraith advisers looked at Boglo, then at the scroll.
“Unless,” the youngest wraith said.  Of all of them, it seemed only one could quote this proviso.  “The complainant submits a request for preemptive award.”
“Let us see it,” Grand Chief Sokree said.  “I suppose I have no choice Sheriff.”
“On the contrary,” Boglo said.  “As your greatness would know, a request for preemptive award must give the Grand Chief two viable and reasonable alternatives in keeping with the gravity of the complaint made.”
“Deliver the wraith who recently identified herself as Lapris, the 's' being silent,” Grand Chief Sokree read, “to become the unquestioning slave of the elf Varantcea, or, in alternative, fill the elf's wagon to the brim with gold from the Grand Chief's treasury.  Your decision and your action are required before the sun sets.” 
There were gasps from the entire wraith delegation as Grand Chief Sokree looked up at the Sheriff, and then took a long hard look at the wagon.  

“You really thought he'd hand over the gold,” Varantcea asked.  “Didn't you?”
In fact, the wagon housed a very sullen and dark Lapris, the 's' being silent.  At the moment she looked absolutely nothing like a fairy.  
“The odds were with us,” Boglo said.  “You haven't lost either way.”
“You think I want a wraith slave?” the elf said.  “This is intolerable by any standard.”
“Do not say a word more,” Boglo said.  “Until you instruct your, um... slave to retrieve and return every last jewel and treasure she stole from you.”
“I can do that?”
“It would be my suggestion,” Boglo said.  “The wraith aren't interested in riches as such, they just want to keep it away from us.”
After the wraith was sent on her errand, Boglo took the shoulder of  Varantcea.
“I know elves do not keep slaves,” Boglo said.  “But you cannot officially set her free until the next full moon.  You can order her to sit in my jail until then if you want.  Along with the return of your property, I trust it will be restitution enough.” 
“You are correct Sheriff,” Varantcea said.  “Returning what was stolen and being imprisoned for two weeks, I will be quite satisfied.  I will put her to work at my house for a day or two for good measure, then send her to sit in your jail for the rest of her time.”
Varantcea looked quite surprised when, in a fit of glee, Sheriff Boglo grabbed him up and gave him a warm hug.  The elf was so touched he coughed incessantly and could barely walk straight when Boglo put him down.
“Elves can be taught...” Sheriff Boglo said, slapping the young elf on the butt.  “...after all.”

Three days later the wraith Lapris, the 's' being silent, appeared at the Sheriff's office carrying a full keg of beer.  He opened the door for her and she went and sat in the cell without uttering a word.  Sheriff Boglo was satisfied with her penitent attitude and let her to herself, sullen as she was.
Later in the day, as Boglo was well into the keg and some paperwork needed by the major's office, a delegation of fairies appeared in his doorway.  It seemed this would be his busiest week yet. 
“We have a dire happenstance,” the eldest of them said with a voice like crystal chimes.  The fairies looked at each other, troubled by their complaint.  “Someone is spreading rumors that fairies are flirting.”
# # #

If you have enjoyed this story, there's more.  This is a sample from --Elf Tales and Other Psychotic Events by Stephen “B5” Jones--, a fantasy collection of seventeen short, flash and micro flash stories to make you smile, smirk and sometimes laugh out loud.  This ebook will be available at Smashwords.com by 3-7-12.