Ol' Flint the Crow

The Elf Domain

Samuel's body sunk like a heavy brick into the soft bed cushions that he was laying upon. Not a coarse, gravely brick that is used to build a castle. It was more like a brick smoothed out from calm river rapids breaking against a shore filled with soft stones. That's how his body felt as it pressed into the rumpled bedsheets that he had untidied during his uninterrupted sleep.

As his eyes started to gradually open like a sunbathing hound dog, the minstrel smacked his crinkled lips and ran his tongue against them. Samuel rose up and stretched his arms above his head as he yawned in satisfaction. Placing his arms down on the mattress, he was tempted to sleep another few hours; however, his curiosity got the better of him.

Samuel climbed off the bed and looked around at a rather beautiful bedroom made of light colored birch wood. The room had a rustic look to it, but nothing inside the room was of poor-quality. Chairs and shelves, all made of wood, were intricately carved by skilled hands with engravings of leaves, trees, and other lovely forest images. There were watercolor paintings of woodland landscapes that were as beautiful as the real thing.

Turning to the far wall, the minstrel noticed a window that took up most of the room with its size. If the minstrel had not taken a second look, he would have assumed it was another one of the intricately drawn paints.

Right below the open window, a silver saucer and a slender glass pitcher, both filled with dazzlingly clear water, lay on a light brown bookcase. Samuel poured himself a glass of the refreshing liquid and afterward washed the grime off his sleepy face. With a smile painted across his mouth, the minstrel gazed through the window.

Outside, the fresh breeze blew into Samuel's room and over his face with its tingly feel. It brought an enjoyable shiver down the flute players spine as if he had dived into a refreshingly cold lake.

Taking in the scent of the outdoor air, Samuel dug his hands into his pockets with a dramatic sigh. Feeling the sharp edges of the paper he had previously buried deep within his clothes, the flute player's desire to transcribe Flint's tale into another epic ballad reawakened. This want burned in his heart as he pondered the ramifications of writing it without the bird's expressed permission. Again, he wondered if creating the song would hurt the crow's trust for him. As Samuel slowly lifted the gold pen out of his pocket, his cheeks flushed while his twitching fingers wobbled nervously above the blank parchments.

Hearing the flutter of wings by the open window, the minstrel immediately shoved the pen and papers back into his pocket as his skin crawled with guilt. Landing on the sill without any grace, Flint coughed harshly. The crow clenched his wound as he pointed his beak into the man's well-rested yet frightened face.

"Good morning sleeping beauty," Flint mocked as he shook the feathers around his sore body. "Feeling better, I hope?"

Samuel gave the bird a frail grin. "Y-yes. Of course!" When the crow gave him an odd look while the fear shown from the minster's face, Samuel quickly added, "L-looks like you're not doing too bad yourself. What time is it? Is it dinner yet?"

"No," Flint muttered while he began pruning himself. 'It's breakfast."

"WHAT?!" The minstrel's heart skipped from the thought of having spent an entire twenty-four hours sleeping.

"Calm down!" the crow reassured Samuel as he waved his wing in a soothing manner. "I guess I should have been more specific. It is still breakfast. You've only slept a couple of hours."

"Really?"

Flint nodded. "Yes... Unbelievable, huh? You may not know this, but here in the elf domain, a good few hours of sleep go a long way. Have you ever wondered why in your songs and sonnets the elves always are portrayed full of energy? That's because here, in their lands, a small nap is as beneficial as a day's rest. Must be the air or something." The crow inhaled deeply as a grin of pleasure appeared on his beak.