Memoirs of a Modern Elf: Season 1 (Modern AU)

Episode 1: Mother of Chickens

Disclaimer: see story description

The day began like any other.
I was simply brushing my teeth, blissfully unaware of the fact that today was going to lead to a series of very unusual, somewhat unfortunate events that are the reason I am writing this in the first place.
The first thing that happened was Jonathan sticking his head through the open bathroom window.
"Sorry to bother you, Tari," he said.
Once I had the toothpaste out of my mouth, I asked, "Jon, what are you doing on the roof?"
"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," he said sheepishly. "The neighbors seem to have formed an angry mob again."
For those of you who don't know, Jonathan is a dragon. It was about ten years ago when he was given to me as a birthday present. Back then, he was an tiny, adorable green lizard who was loved by all. Now, he's a massive predator the size of a two-car garage who tends to disturb any unsuspecting passerby who happen to see him. He is usually well concealed, as he lives in my backyard and only hunts in the woods behind the house, but he can't help it if people get too nosy.
And the roof is his normal hiding place when a mob forms because he was born without wings and therefore can't fly.
I gave a frustrated sigh. "Are you sure it's not some sort of friendly gathering, like a hootenanny?" I asked.
He shook his scaly head. "I'm pretty sure humans don't bring pitchforks to hootenannies."
I finished getting ready and hurried downstairs. There was usually only one solution to this issue, and it resided in the cabinet under the sink.
This miracle substance is called Amnesia Dust.
I have no clue what's in it, all I know is that you can buy it at your local alchemy shop, and that it erases the target's memories from the last ten minutes. I've heard it was invented by tooth fairies.
I located the conatiner and ran outside. Fortunately, it was a small mob this time, only about fifteen people. It takes a lot of Amnesia Dust to clear out fifty, believe me.
One of the guys from down the street, Joe, saw me coming. "Whoa, Tari, you'd better go back inside. This is going to sound crazy, but there's a dragon on your roof!"
For some reason, the good people of Williamsburg, Virginia have no problem living next door to an Elf, but they lose it when they see a dragon. I guess that's understandable, considering the bad reputation dragons get in stories.
Rather than insist that Joe was crazy (I've tried that before; it didn't work), I just let the Dust fly. It's so nice that it comes in a container similar to a fire extinguisher.
All of the angry humans suddenly lapsed into blank expressions and then wandered off, asking each other what they were doing in my yard while wielding pitchforks. Disaster averted.
Just then, my husband's Mustang pulled up.
"'Morning, Legolas," I called as he jumped out, his bow slung over his shoulder. He had been up earlier than me to go hunting.
He fished his arrows out of the passenger seat and then noticed the can in my hands.
"What was the Amnesia Dust for?" he asked, laughing. "Did you watch another Hallmark Channel movie, or..." He spotted the retreating villagers. "Oh, not again."
"I'm afraid so, but it's been taken care of."
We went inside, and Legolas sorted through the mail while I set about making breakfast. Suddenly he stopped, holding a letter with a smiling daisy on the front and staring at it with a mildly horrified expression.
He opened it carefully, as though he was afraid it would explode. I watched anxiously as he scanned its contents, and then he glanced up at me with a sheepish look on his face.
"Well, what is it?" I asked.
"It's from Happy Meadow," he began somewhat nervously. "They said that Daenerys has gone too far for them to handle, and they're...ah...placing her in our care until they can find somewhere else for her to go."
I just stared at him. "Daenerys, as in your cousin?"
He nodded hesitantly.
I leaned against the kitchen counter and put my head in my hands. "Oh no..."
If you knew Legolas' cousin, you would understand the reason for my distress.
Daenerys has, to put it simply, an obsession with chickens. Ever since she stumbled across three abandoned eggs and hatched them, she proceeded to raise them as her own children. She eventually got to be too much deal with.
After I had composed myself a bit, I asked, "What did she do this time?"
"Apparently, one of the employees made a comment about her chickens that she found offensive, so she ordered them to attack the poor man."
That's another thing; Dany's chickens follow vocal commands extremely well.
I sighed and looked back at the letter on the counter. "When are they sending her over?"
"This afternoon."
"What?!" I snatched the letter from the table and saw that they were indeed dropping Daenerys at the house that very day. "Don't they have to give notice?"
Legolas shrugged. "Apparently not."
I threw the letter in the garbage disposal and ran to get a room prepared.
A few hours later, a van bearing the dreaded flower symbol pulled up to the house and Daenerys climbed out. She had the same blonde hair and blue eyes that every member of Legolas's family seemed to possess; the unusual thing about her was the three roosters clinging to her shoulders and luggage. All of them were glaring at me and Legolas ominously.
Before I could say so much as "hello," the smallest of the chickens, the white one, jumped off Daenerys and bolted into the open door of the house.
"No! Viserion, come back!" she cried. She dropped her luggage and sprinted after him, causing the other two to screech in alarm.
"You watch those two, I'll get Viserion," Legolas said, following Dany inside.
I started to protest, but I was already alone with the two remaining chickens. I reached out to pick up the brown one, Rhaegal, but he tried to bite me. The huge, black Drogon just gave me a look that said, "Don't even think about it."
I sighed and sat in the driveway, engaged in a staring contest with the grouchy poultry. Suddenly, I was distracted by the sound of breaking glass from overhead. Viserion came hurtling out of an upstairs window and landed squarely on my head, where he proceeded to attack my hair.
While I was doing a wild dance and trying to disentangle the bird from my hair, Drogon and Rhaegal vaulted off of the luggage and ran into the woods, flapping their wings delightedly.
Later that night, once Daenerys was in bed and her vicious animals were retrieved and stowed in the basement, I collapsed on the couch while Legolas tended to my badly wounded scalp.
"I should have torn the feathers off that bird when I had the chance," I growled.
Legolas chuckled. "Yes, I know they can be a bit unruly."
"Unruly?" I tilted my head back to glare at him. "That monster nearly scalped me!"
"Hold still, my love," he said soothingly. "They just take some getting used to. Dany always says they don't like strangers, and it's not just an excuse. Once they get to know you, they're actually quite friendly." He smiled and added, "Unless, of course, you threaten their 'mother.'"
I laughed in spite of my anger, although I wasn't sure that I would ever get used to the chickens.
The next morning while I was making breakfast, Daenerys retrieved Viserion and brought him upstairs, much to my alarm.
She carried him over to me, and I backed up a bit, embarrassing as it was to be afraid of a chicken.
"Viserion wanted to apologize for yesterday," she said. "He says he was just having a bit of fun and didn't mean to hurt you."
The white bird hung his head in shame at these words, eliciting a smile from me. I picked him up when Daenerys offered him again.
"Apology accepted, Viserion," I said, stroking his fluffy head and trying not to think about the fact that I was talking to a chicken. "Legolas patched me up last night, so you have nothing to worry about."
He perked up and flapped his wings. Daenerys laughed and said, "He wonders if, since you're friends now, you could show him how to make waffles."
I smiled and set Viserion on the counter. "I would be glad to," I replied.
My name is Altariel, and teaching chickens to make waffles is just one small part of my crazy world.