Short Story Scenes

The Elven Girl

She was in the market that day. In the loud, crowded market, filled with dirty beggars and clever merchants, and wanted posters of rotten thieves plastering the outside walls of small condos where the poor people of the city lived.

She didn't seem to fit in with the people of the city, who were all Easterners and all had the same olive skin and thick black hair. She was like a ghost in the swarm of dark colors, with her flowing white robes that billowed behind her.

She was gazed at by the townspeople with awe. She didn't belong there. She was too beautiful, with her snowy white skin dappled with grey freckles, and the silvery hair like mercury that flowed down her back, decorated with ornaments of gold.

The girl was a creature of beauty, a rare thing in the world full of war and battle. And even more surprising to the townsfolk were her long ears, which were pointed at the ends. Most had never seen an elf in their lifetime. They had hidden themselves away in the war, too many had been killed and their species was dwindling. But here was one now, like a rose in a patch of thorns.

The elf was searching for a merchant that would sell her supplies for the winter. She had to leave The Valley in the cold months so that she didn't get trapped in the mountains when the snow came. She searched the booths for a merchant selling what she would need.

That's when she heard it.

The faintest sound, like droplets Of water falling in a still pond.

Tap tap.
Tap tap.

What was it? She wondered to herself, her sensitive ears picking up the faint sound.

Tap tap.
Tap tap.

Louder this time, coming from a merchant booth ahead of her. She approached it carefully, hoisting her skirt up so it wouldn't drag in the dirt.

The merchant that was in the booth was a short man that quite literally looked like a tomato. His face was rounded and bright red, and he had a big belly that bulged out of his expensive looking belt. A patch of grey hair flapped against his forehead from beneath his hat.

She heard the tapping again, louder and more violent this time. She came closer, and that was when she saw it.

In the back of the booth, carefully placed on a crate in the shadows, was a glass bottle. It's label had been peeled off, and an aged cork was wedged tightly in the top.

And inside the bottle, was a tiny creature, who seemed to be staring up at her, tapping on the glass with a white knuckle.

The elf leaned down, her eyes wide as she looked at it. It looked like a tiny human, with deathly pale skin and hair the same color to match. He was completely nude except for a cloth tied around his waste.

The only thing that offset how extremely white and pale he was, was the colorful feathers that decorated his hair and the tip of the long white tail that came from his back. The most notice thing about him though, was his wings. They were the same colorful feathers, but big. Even while they were curled up, they were pressed against the walls of the bottle.

"A harpy." Breathed the elf as the boy tapped his knuckles against the glass again. His eyes twinkled and he gave his most dashing smile.

She, not being human, did not fall under the same enchantment that humans did when they would see a harpy smile. When it didn't seem to work, the boy began wailing, pounding against the glass and throwing a fit. He then slumped to the bottom of his bottle, his head resting in his arms.

She glanced up. The bottle was resting on a wine crate, and above it was a sign that read:

No Feeding
No Touching
And definitely NO smiling

The harpy began wailing again. She pitied it. It must have been stuck in there for quite a long time. She turned around to the shopkeeper, who was pocketing some coins that a couple had handed him in exchange for a necklace that he claimed was real diamond.

"How may I assist you, mam?" He chirped, his golden tooth glinting from his too wide of a smile.

She scowled. He looked like a frog. She didn't like him.

"How much for the harpy in the bottle?" She finally asked when the man stopped smiling at her.

The man frowned. "Not for sale." He snapped, going back to counting money and putting it in the pocket of his coat.

"Then why is it sitting out?" She asked. "I can pay whatever you ask."

"Not. For. Sale." The man repeated. "If the little brute was taken out, he would destroy the whole town. Slaughter everyone he saw. For the fun of it."

"But why?" She asked, surprised.

"That's what harpies do, elfling. They adapt to whatever size container they're put in. The moment he is released, he'll grow bigger. Bigger than you. At least seven feet. And he'll be mad. And hungry. Now if you don't want to buy anything else, then shoo." He glared at her, his black rat eyes squinting angrily.

She scowled, turning and storming away. She hated that man. More than she hated most humans.

Tap tap.
Tap tap.

Her gaze went back to the harpy. He had stood up again and was tapping on the glass.

He looked innocent enough, with his wide, twinkling eyes, and his pretty face and smile.

What was the worst that could happen?

She waited until the shopkeeper stopped looking, and then slipped the bottle into the folds in her robe, walking away with the little creature still tapping on the glass.

Thank you for reading this short story! If you would like me to continue this story, of Lanthirel the elf and Maika the harpy, please tell me!

Maika does not belong to me, but to a close friend of mine. Lanthirel belongs to me.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!