Having been caught in midair by his commander Tyldak, Windkid was not terribly happy. He complained to the bird-shaped one, "If these other elves are in as much pain as I am, then you, Tyl-dung, had better let 'em go! Are you listening to me? Loosen up with those claws!" By their orders, he could not carry any of the small elves that they had just captured, but instead, Tyldak would carry him. Probation really sucked.
Though his face was fixed on the sky ahead, Tyldak grimaced. He swore to himself, When we get back, I am going to deliver the brat to Winnowill AND the Captive of Captives, and let both of them deal with him. It need not be said that Tyldak didn't respond to Windkid's insults. Looking to Aroree instead, he asked, "Do you think we're clear for a direct delivery? We've made ten roundabouts, and if anyone is trying to track us, I'm sure that they're thrown off by now."
"Well... I can't really say 'ah, yes' or 'ah, no,'" commented Aroree in her inexplicably "southern" accent, "But while we're still holding on to the ones we've got, we should drop right in, just to lighten our loads. Y'know, I think the two I've got are cute," she said with an inane giggle.
A response came from the mouth of one very angry Wolfrider and tree-shaper: "I am NOT cute!" Redlance screamed.
His patience long since exhausted, Windkid developed an evil plot in his head. Taking immediate action, he hoisted his body towards Aroree, and despite Tyldak's orders, he kicked her quarry...
***
The Ahon G'yat Hso called him Thief, for lack of a better name. He called himself Greymung, for that was his name. The
old troll king had gone into self-exile, and he resided among the humans. It wasn't an easy existence Thief/Greymung had,
but he made the best of it. For one, he was (figuratively) king of the garbage scows. Of course, he had to disguise
himself, in the most ridiculous outfit even worn by one of his kind, and stick to the shadows, but everything else was
peachy. But on this particular afternoon, the troll sighted Cutter and his friends watching the human celebration, and
he decided to make them a proposition.
Skywise's dwindling attention was drawn from the dance by a curiously familiar voice. "Hello there. Would you like to buy a souvenir?" Thief/Greymung asked him in a stilted accent.
The stargazer found himself puzzled. He cautiously turned his full attention to the disguised troll and replied, "Maybe. What are you trying to sell me?" Looking a bit further, he could see, even from the high platform, that this "human" had gloves on his hands, and underneath those gloves were four fingers.
"Souvenirs. I have this large rock. It's not much, but it'll help you remember this village. Would you buy it? I'll say for starters thirty-five," offered the odd-looking one.
Again, Skywise was baffled. He wondered, "Thirty-five what? And why would I want a rock anyway?"
The ever-devious vendor snickered, and said, "I got it for, let's say, a steal. But if you don't want the whole thing, which goes for thirty-five fire eyes, you can certainly put your swords to use and take a small chunk for, oh, twenty-five fire eyes. That would be a bargain, my friend." Greymung/Thief ever-so-slightly tipped his fruit-covered hat.
Cutter intruded on the conversation, inasmuch that only Stormie even cared about the humans' dance. "You're being ripped off, in case you didn't notice," he noted quietly. From the little that he had seen, this four-fingered, rock-toting saleshuman was bad news.
"Then... I WILL rip it off!" shouted Skywise, showing a surprising amount of initiative. He slashed at the heavy rock, but just barely missed. Meanwhile, Greymung/Thief panicked. He lost his balance, fell to the ground, and the fruit-covered hat fell off. His identity was now obvious.
The Wolfriders' chief looked down on the less-than-bright troll, who had nearly made them another bad deal. "We'll let you live this time. But keep your souvenirs away from us," he growled in the language they were used to.
A few hours later, the elves bade the Ahon G'yat Hso farewell, and continued onward. They headed northward toward some very entertaining cliffs...
***
When Redlance and One-Eye woke again, they simultaneously moaned. Both, though they did not recall it at the time, had fallen
from a high position, and neither were quite ready to move. The tree-shaper, despite having lost several teeth, grumbled, "Did
we get dropped off or what?" and then returned to the world of the unconscious.
Barely more alive than his fellow elf, One-Eye swatted a big dreamberry that flew his way. Something was definitely wrong, for he could still recall when the flying elves took all the Wolfriders as hostages - but where were the others? If he and Redlance had truly been dropped from their clutches, then the others must have flown further on... Then and there, One-Eye vowed to himself that he would get his contract renewed.
***
On the way down to the Dreamberry Preserve(r)s, the elves sighted Chief Olbar running their way, toward the edge of the
cliffs. He looked down at them and screamed, trying to overcome the massive roar of the waterfalls, "GO... GLUE FOUNTAIN
... MAY LACK... SELAH... DREAMBERRIES... DON'T ILLEGALLY FAX NOW." Sure, some of his words didn't quite get through,
but they got the basic message.
An hour or so later, the eight-minus-one of them were in the Dreamberry Preserve(r)s. Looking from tree to tree, they noticed something a bit out of place. It was the only thing not wrapped in the spidery goo that pervaded the place. Cutter, utilizing his transcendental signifier, named it, "The flea-bitten glove," for that was what it was. He picked it up and put it on his right hand - and it fit, for this glove had four small fingers to it.
"Intriguing," Skywise commented, regarding the glove, "Now what's it for? Well, Foxfur, I believe you know a lot of trivia. Why might this 'flea-bitten glove' be important?" he asked of his former lovemate.
The secret-keeper's expression was as blank as anyone else's. Foxfur confessed, "I really wouldn't have any clue. Oh, if anyone is willing, I'd like to go back to my old hut some time soon... just elf-sonal business."
This was lost on all but Stormie and Dobil, but Hoodbearer was especially outside the joke. "Can someone tell me what's going on?" she requested of the culturally literate ones.
Suddenly, Foxfur smiled. And I thought that Hoodbearer would understand this more than anyone else. After all, she was the one who actually witnessed the whole incident where the flea-bitten glove got started, she mused, but then admitted to the human-raised one, "Oh, it's nothing, more a private joke than anything else. However, if we ever get time alone together, I could tell you a lot about your cubhood that you may have forgotten." She shrugged mysteriously and kept right on walking.
"Anyway," interjected Cutter, "I'll just keep the flea-bitten glove for now." After being chief of the Wolfriders for many turns, he was used to many things - many bizarre things.
The others didn't comment, because something even stranger came their way. They saw a small legion of dreamberries flying at them, as if a divine wind were behind them. Dobil nearly jumped out of his shoes, and declared, "I heard Olbar talking about dreamberries, but I didn't think that it would be quite like this..."
As for Cutter, he was ready for anything. "I hope everyone remembers Pike's 'maneuver,' for it's finally going to come in handy," he stated. The chief slashed Noon Mew at the assailants, but all three dreamberries that he had aimed for dodged out of the way. "Stupid, stupid dreamberries," Cutter cursed, stomping in fury.
The intelligent fruit stuck out their tongues. Though the flying dreamberries had no eyes, it seemed almost natural that a tongue would just portrude from their bodies. Just as the taunting stopped, they instantly regrouped... and cleared the way. Now the elves had a small, straight passage to travel through. "I doubt it's safe," Woodlock griped, but the others ignored him.
At the end of the corridor, the elves were faced with something far, far worse than any animated dreamberries: two humans. Male and female they had been made, but the couple was liberally dressed (even for humans), and long since keeled over from drunkenness. Instantly, a scowl and a growl came from Hoodbearer. She sent, **I don't know these two - but I've got a feeling that the flying dreamberries either love them or hate them. We may have just been appointed judges in a case of alleged cannibalism.**
Dobil lost it. His eyes snapped open, and he screamed, "CANNIBALS?! Whoa, I am out of here!" The so-called Go-Back scampered like never before, and as he ran, he practically tripped over the humans. That, in turn, scared the couple into sobriety, and they ran as well. And so, mere seconds after the sending, six elves were left standing, with nothing more to say.
***
Starjumper enjoyed the view from his tree. He could see the Dreamberry Preserve(r)s, and even the allegedly hidden Glue Fountain. That
afternoon, he watched as seven of the Chosen Eight descended into their private hole. He did not know exactly where the seven foreign ones
were, but if his approximations were correct, they were nearing Glue Fountain rapidly. Perhaps it was time for them to meet the Gliders.
Calming himself, he privately sent to the Captive of Captives, **This is Starjumper, reporting from outside the Ahon G'yat Hso village.
Most of the Chosen Eight have entered. Can you welcome some other guests? After all, I saw the Gliders were rather burdened with elven cargo.
So, will it be a reunion?**
Just as privately, he got his response from the Gliders' dungeon keeper: **Yes... that will be amusing. I will open the hole in but a moment. For you, Starjumper, I suggest you investigate the Glue Fountain area yourself, to make sure we get only the right ones.** The sending came in very clearly, for the Captive of Captives had a lot of training in long-distance sending.
**I will comply. That should pretty much take care of all our troubles. I'm heading down,** the wild elf sent, leaping from his private tree into a world of slightly surprised humans, which he conveniently ran right past.
***
The six elves stood together, within sight of the spot the humans had fled from. Cutter was the chief of all puzzled ones, and in his sight,
the clues just didn't fit together. These were the Dreamberry Preserve(r)s after all, and according the character contracts, they should have
been seeing Glue Fountain. Yet there was no sign of the place. **Something is wrong here,** he openly sent.
"Hey! I get it!" Stormie exclaimed. She told her now-attentive audience, "Those humans, and Dobil, fled for a reason. They don't especially like the woods. Now that they're not here, they're safe from whatever dangers might await us. There's a chance that this might all be a trap- -"
Her sentence had been cut off by the ground suddenly giving way. All those who had traveled together fell together, down into the goo-filled pit known as Glue Fountain. Things had been interesting, and they were becoming more so.
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This is a not-for-profit fan page, and as such, it is not endorsed by any company, person, or entity mentioned within. _Elfquest_, its characters, and all indicia thereof are copyright 1978-1998 Warp Graphics. "The ElfQuiz Parody" is a satire of _Elfquest_, and should not be misconstrued as an actual work of Warp Graphics or its employees. As with all fan fiction, no copyrights are claimed on anything pertaining to "The ElfQuiz Parody." This page was created, by John Alan "Merejez" Riggs, on April 13, 1998. Carry on, wayward children.