Etwas the Elf

Etwas the Elf
Our heroine, photo by Maia Ycot

Thursday, November 3, 2011

The elf and the heart-shaped stone

Once upon a time, Etwas the Elf was running through the forests of grass, under the canopies of clover and around the stems of tall flowers when she found a pretty stone.  It was shiny, black and smooth and shaped like a heart.

"A boomerang!" she laughed, picking it up.  Holding by the right atrium, she gave it a toss with a snap of her wrist.  The stone shimmered through the air and the arc bent but the stone didn't return.

"A tomahawk?" she wondered.  She went after the rock and retrieved it.  Then she traipsed over to an oak tree and, grabbing the stone at the long end, threw it at the side of the tree with an entirely different snap of the wrist. The stone dented the bark but did not stick.

"A hovercraft!" the elf declared and brought it down to a bay of the pond where she threw it sidearm with a whole other snap of the wrist.  The stone skipped merrily, once, twice, a third time and then settled on the opposite bank.  Etwas walked around the shore, retrieved her stone and threw it sidearm again with an even quicker version of the previous wrist snap.

Once, twice, three, four times it skipped and leapt up the opposite bank where it knocked a squirrel's tail.  The startled squirrel raised it's tail and ran up the nearest tree, barking and twitching.

And ever since then, there is an Elven adage that nothing beautiful is ever useless, at least for recreation.


  1. What do elves, who are not playing, do when a beautiful pink and orange sunset just happens to be in the sky?

  2. Karen, I think we should find out.