Etwas the Elf

Etwas the Elf
Our heroine, photo by Maia Ycot

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Etwas and the Steed

Once upon a time, Etwas the Elf was running through the forests of tall grass, under the canopies of clover and around the stems of tall floors when she ran smack into a shiny black hoof.

"Well, hello, little Elf," said Brisket the horse.

"Howdy, Brisket! What do you say good?"

"All is fine.  Where's Rascal today?"

"Rascal got worn out from our adventures yesterday.  He's back at the mushroom resting."

"Haw! Haw! Haw!" laughed the curly-haired black pony.  "But you're just a tiny thing.  Even a butterfly should be able to carry you.  Hop on up here."

So Etwas hopped onto Brisket's metal shoe and shimmied up the hoof and climbed the hair on his leg until she reached his weathers.  She hoisted one hair and slapped him with it on both sides of the shoulder.  "Hyah!" she cried.

Brisket laughed and ran and ran and laughed.  He reached the river at Selfoss and Etwas whipped him again and on he ran with a wry expression in his eyes.  He ran a circle around KeriĆ° crater and Etwas whipped him again with that solitary quirt of Brisket's own hair.  He galloped on with grit until he dove into the geyser pool at Strokkur.

The geyser blew Etwas thirty feet in the air and she floated down in a water droplet until she landed beside the panting horse whose own expression was painted in sweet relief.

And ever since then it has been common knowledge among Icelandic horses that the smallest things are the most exhausting.

4 comments:

  1. Is it also common knowledge that Brisket dips in with the rest of the Icelandic steeds?

    Hyah!

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    Replies
    1. At any rate, I hope "our heroine" remains oblivious.

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  2. I think we can count on our heroine.

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  3. wow, I hadn't seen this one yet....i can see what inspired it though!

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