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 it started to snow. It was no average Icelandic snowstorm with terrific winds and overwhelming drifts but a real icelandic blizzard that assassinates the sun and smothers the ground and replants trees besides themselves.
In moments, Etwas found herself buried and took out her knife to begin the process of building a way to the surface. She built a little cave and spit to make sure which way down was and infer from that up. She dug a little ledge in the snow and dug deeper to make another one. For fun, she dug her stairs at a slight angle and by the time she reached the surface, the staircase spiralled like a pig's tail.
She reached the surface and the snow was still falling heavily and the world was still black and the air was still silent. But then she heard footsteps nearby. They were familiar footsteps.
"Howdy, Eamon!" she called to her cousin.
"Oh, hi, Etwas!"
"What are you doing out in this weather?"
"I'm getting wost in de snow!" Eamon the Elf replied.
"Fun!" said Etwas. Can I come with you?"
"Shooah! But don't weave no feetsteps," Eamon scolded. "It's funna if you pwetend you awen't dayah."
Etwas shimmied up a nearby tree and took two leaves which she tied to her feet so that she would leave leaftracks instead. Eamon was inspired so he looked around until he found a nest of birds, huddling together in the weather. He plucked two tailfeathers and made his own snowshoes so he could leave tracks like a goose bouncing along the ground on its bottom.
The two trudged along in circles and arcs and curlicues until Eamon said "OK! We'ah heah!" and the two sat down to build a tiny fire and roast currants.
And ever since then, elves will tell you that home is wherever you're lost.
In moments, Etwas found herself buried and took out her knife to begin the process of building a way to the surface. She built a little cave and spit to make sure which way down was and infer from that up. She dug a little ledge in the snow and dug deeper to make another one. For fun, she dug her stairs at a slight angle and by the time she reached the surface, the staircase spiralled like a pig's tail.
She reached the surface and the snow was still falling heavily and the world was still black and the air was still silent. But then she heard footsteps nearby. They were familiar footsteps.
"Howdy, Eamon!" she called to her cousin.
"Oh, hi, Etwas!"
"What are you doing out in this weather?"
"I'm getting wost in de snow!" Eamon the Elf replied.
"Fun!" said Etwas. Can I come with you?"
"Shooah! But don't weave no feetsteps," Eamon scolded. "It's funna if you pwetend you awen't dayah."
Etwas shimmied up a nearby tree and took two leaves which she tied to her feet so that she would leave leaftracks instead. Eamon was inspired so he looked around until he found a nest of birds, huddling together in the weather. He plucked two tailfeathers and made his own snowshoes so he could leave tracks like a goose bouncing along the ground on its bottom.
The two trudged along in circles and arcs and curlicues until Eamon said "OK! We'ah heah!" and the two sat down to build a tiny fire and roast currants.
And ever since then, elves will tell you that home is wherever you're lost.
Love this one!
ReplyDeleteThose are some fun snow tracks they left ;)
oh and in the second to last paragraph you wanna switch Etwas' name out for Eamon!
The two built a tiny fire and roasted currants in a blizzard. How magical!
ReplyDeleteRight you are, Ms. Whirlibird.
ReplyDeleteKaren, it was a cozy thought.