Western Walkabout: The Witch, The Wood Elf And The Dragon - 2
Richard Harris tells the second part of his love story for children over 40. In this episode Woodward the wood elf is captured by orcs.
IN THE SERVICE OF THE DRAGON
Woodward was sipping sweet water through a straw from a pool in the cleft of a blue gum when a pair of steely hands grabbed him from behind.
“Gotcha, yer little maggot. What yer doin’ ‘ere in the lady’s wood?”
Another voice called “it’s a spy, I reckon, workin’ for that witch-tart, Skye.”
Woodward was spun round to face a small scouting party of orcs, armed to the teeth.
“We’re takin’ you in, so get a move on and shut up.”
Woodward was speechless. He hadn’t said a word.
The orcs marched him deep into the swamp and threw him to the ground in front of a small wooden dais.
“Get up and look at me,” said this cold female voice.
Woodward, rose on one knee then stood up. He wasn’t young any more and recently had undergone a hip replacement.
“Stop staring at my boobs and look at my face,” said the voice.
Woodward raised his eyes, “I meant no disrespect, lady.”
“Now what are you staring at?”
“Your pardon, lady, I am thinking that I must have seen you before. You are extraordinarily beautiful – how could I have forgotten?”
“You probably have met my sister, that witch-tart Skye. Who are you and what’s your business here?”
“I am Woodward, a wood elf of the house of Parkwood. I am the senior warden of the southern forest, with special responsibilities for eucalypts.”
“My orcs thought you were a spy. They always think in terms of war – that’s the way they are. Excellent servants. Did you notice anything amiss among my eucalypts?”
“The old blue gum where the orcs found me said that some of the younger trees were being pestered by a build up of hairy caterpillars.”
“And what do you expect me to do about that, Master Woodelf?”
“My friends call me Woody. It would be a good idea to call your sister Skye and ask her for help.”
“Why would she want to help me? You can surely imagine the sibling rivalry between us. I haven’t spoken to her for 200 years or more.”
“Skye is a dear friend of mine. I swear she is without malice. She loves trees and goes round talking to them and dancing for them. I have heard the trees singing to her and I once saw a little nut tree dance for her in the rain. She has a special rapport with birds and I know she would willingly ask some of the small birds to enter your wood and deal with those hairy dreadfuls. Problem solved – a win:win situation.”
“Woody, I like your style. Have you had breakfast and are you vegetarian.?”
“Not vegetarian, but I do like fish and chicken.”
The lady laughed. “This isn’t the swamp Hilton. You shall have a bowl of porridge but you’ll have to shovel some shit to earn it.”
She turned to the orc captain, “Fangmar, take this elf to the dragons’ stables, and get him to clean up after that young female dragon – what’s her name, the one that mopes around all the time these days.”
“Her name is Swanfire, lady, and she’s been a bit upset lately.”
Fangmar frogmarched Woodward to the dragons’ stables, opened a door and pitched him into a large cave. A dark grey dragon was crouched at the back. She sighed. A tiny tear rolled down her cheek.
“Your pardon, Eminence,” said Woodward, who knew it was always wise to be polite to dragons. “I’ve been sent to clean up in your quarters.”
The dragon hiccupped.
“I can see that you are not happy, lady dragon. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“What would you know about fixing a broken heart?”
“How did it break?”
“My male partner, Black Bart, has taken off with a new female 50 years younger than me and two scale sizes smaller.”
“That problem is easily fixed,” said Woodward.
“How? Tell me more.” The dragon was full of attention.
Woodward said “I took a course on how to be single once, at the University of Elf summer school. The professor said that when a relationship went wrong, the quickest way to get over a male was to get under another one.”
The dragon roared – which is a dragon’s way of laughing. She rolled on her back, flicked her wing tips and giggled. She giggled so mightily that she dislodged a whole row of ticks into her straw.
“Great idea. Now I’ll do something for you. What are you doing here in this shit hole?”
Woodward told her. The dragon told him to grab a small blanket from a peg near the door and place it on her back over the small saddle gall.
“Climb aboard,” said the dragon. “If you’re scared of heights, don’t look down.”
They had just set off through the stable door when an orc guard rushed up waving his sword.
Swanfire breathed a blast of fiery air over him, singeing his eyebrows, removing his eyelashes and setting his shirt alight.
The orc dropped the sword and began stripping off the blazing shirt. Swanfire took to the skies with Woodward aboard and soared gently away into the freedom of the southern forest. She delivered Woodward to Skye’s lodge just in time for tea – fresh salmon, marinated prawns, a green salad, and a large glass of wine.
Outside, Swanfire was given three buckets of springwater, and a large piece of donkey salami mixed with lucerne hay.
“That should fix the rattle in your stomach,” Skye told her. “Baby, we’re going to light your fire.”
