The first time I met an elf, I was sitting in my room, sulking about my boyfriend running of with my best friend. After two years, you’d think you knew a guy well enough to know he was going to run off with someone else. None the less, the rain on my windows only seemed to make it worse. Time seemed to go slower; the minute from nine thirteen to nine fourteen took a millennium to pass. Maybe the clouds were crying about losing the sun. Whatever the case, the rain had marbled my windows in a beautiful, lacy pattern. The trees leading out to the woods were swirled in an archaic way, like you see the clouds painted in early Chinese pottery.
I looked around at all the blooming flowers when I noticed a variation in my roses. The bright pinks and reds were interrupted by a faded green and creamy white, like a dying tide’s last breath. I opened the window to see what was in my flowers; expecting a rabbit or raccoon, my heart raced when my eyes rested themselves upon this person hiding in the bush. The rain itself seemed to lessen itself as I leaned out of my window to better see the intruder, but as I did so, I tipped out of the window and fell toward the ground, my impending doom of falling out of a window would appear like a suicide and forever I would be thought of as weak and stupid for loving someone. I hit the ground and blacked out.
Rain, dew and pine all filled my nose and I knew exacted where I was before I open my eyes. The rain had stopped and the world was astonishingly still and silent. I was laid down by the bridge across Haman’s Creek about four miles from my house. I used to come out here and pretend to play with the earth spirits Nana used to tell me about. The question never crossed my mind as to how I got out here; all I could think about was how I was going to get back. I looked down at my watch to see what time it was and almost fell over when the realization dawned on me that the time was just past nine twenty. “How did I go four miles in less than five minutes while being unconscious?”
“I brought you here,” a voice told me. I looked around for the intrusive person, but looked to find no one around me but trees and my own wary fears. I closed my eyes and opened my ears to the woods, as Nana used to say. I may not be able to see the voice, but I could hear it. The loud silence points out a rustling in the firs.
“Who speaks?” I call out. “Who is the hero that hides in the treetop’s shroud?” I open my eyes and look above, but I only see a silhouette. I decide to continue doing the open ear thing, and listen for the tree top runner, but hear nothing. The hunter knows well how to stalk his prey; silently crouching in the night. But I too know this game and sense my dangerous savior’s presence. They approach my position, soft and slow like a whispering breeze. I feel them close by.
“I am many things. I am that which you know and also what you do not. True, I run through the tree tops, but I need not hide from you.” It was the voice a young man, yet he sounded different. His voice was loud, yet soft like a whisper, and very proper sounding. I again opened my eyes and looked but did not see him. Suspicion was getting the better of me. I picked up a stick. I closed my eyes and called out to him.
“Please come out so that I may thank you for saving me.” I clutched the stick like a bludgeon, ready to beat my kidnapper into a bloody pulp. I heard a soft whistle and tap, then a rustling of leaves in front of me. I leaned against the stick to steady myself. Then I opened my eyes, stepped forward and saw nothing. I looked to my left and then my right and saw nothing still. I stepped backward onto something with give, swung around and prepared to assail the chap. But, typical me, I tripped and hit myself in the head.
I lifted my aching head off the ground and saw a pair of canvas moccasins the color of faded leaves. I dusted myself off and looked up to see the voice’s owner; my eyes were blinded by disbelief. He was incredible; tall, lean as a willow’s finger and his ears, his beautiful ears, were rounded at a perfect elf point, eloquent yet practical. Just looking at him made me realize how easy it would be to lose him in the forest of unending whisper trees. He was dressed in worn, tattered cloth the color of a spruce in late spring, yet it shifted as he did, his complexion the color of an old birch’s arm, soft and pale, yet strong as ages. A luscious hair of creamy white hair sat atop his head and slightly covered eyes the color of smoldering amber sun. He did not frown, but he did not smile; like a vortex in flux, as if he was unsure how to approach the situation. He stood there like child, innocent of crimes unknown. There he was my mystery hero, the shadow in the trees, this strange elven like youth in my knight in shining armor. I rose slowly, like a subject before their king, and watched him without notice to anything but him.
He floated over to me; he barely moved other than his approach. He reached out his hand and held it against my forehead, gentle, almost hovering over, then my shoulder, he caressed it, examining the bruises and scrapes I’d attained. Then he took my wrist and rubbed it ever so slightly, the way Nana once did to ease a headache. A cool wave of relaxation waved over my whole body as I swayed, weak from hunger. As I started to fall, he caught me, a slight smile stole along his face, his eyes coming alive in a blaze of secretive delight, his porcelain hand brushed my face, clearing away my hair. He lay me down on the ground and walked off, disappearing as soon as he arrived. I lay their wondering how it was possible for such a beautiful and mystical creature such as this one could exist under our noses and we never know it.
I closed my eyes and all I can see is his glowing eyes burning in the darkness. I could smell his as clearly as I can smell the air around me, a crisp pine mixed with fresh morning dew, then laced with wet moss after a long rain. I breathe deep, letting it fill me as a light chuckle sounds close by. I look up and see him sitting there, a few feet away, beside him a basket bulging with food. I crawl over to the wicker basket to see what’s in it, but collapse after a few inches. He reaches over and helps me over to it. Geez, I feel so stupid and helpless. He hands me a parcel wrapped in a waxy paper with a decorative red and white print, fast food paper.
“Where’d you get this food?” I ask, curiosity filling the air as I spoke. “Not very ‘elfish’ for someone of your position.” I didn’t know what to expect from him, but not a simple smirk and dismissal as quick as he did. But he did chuckle under his breath, which I did know. He just sat there and ate his double stacker burger with extra cheese and pickles. God, I love pickles.
I didn’t expect his to say anything about it either. He spoke in such a soft voice, it was like a rose, soft at the petals, but strong at the stem. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, like who I am or what I am. You don’t even know why I saved you.” He chuckled at how trivial the conversation was, like this wasn’t a groundbreaking event. He didn’t want to hold back, but he did, the question is why.
“Why did you save me?”
He looked over at me, held my hand and simply said, “I haven’t the slightest idea,” and laughed until he couldn’t sit upright anymore, falling on me. He just lay there until the sky turned to a blanket of fireflies dancing across the night. The last thing I remember a light kiss on my lips and him saying something that I can only guess was, “How can a human be as beautiful as you?” The next thing I knew, he was gone, the only evidence this all happened, a letter answering who and what and the real reason he saved me, but I didn’t have to read it, the kiss said it all.
