A
Break From The Office:
He exited his office, late again, and started to stroll home,
And the last of the Ravens from the Tower, Timothy by name,
Flew down, sat upon his arm, and gently krawed welcome.
Twilight fell across the land.
It was 12.22 p.m. precisely.
A herd of unicorns trotted, in sprightly fashion,
Past Harrods and on down Brompton Road, an elf upon
The first and three minotaurs, herding them on,
Aiming at the last for the docks where they would be
Embarked to establish herds on distant shores,
Where their meat was considered a great delicacy,
And their horns most highly prized as candle holders.
He’d read somewhere that they were so stupid,
If you turned their horn in the direction of the down spiral
It went straight into their tiny brain and they dropped
instantly.
He thought them rather beautiful though, and reckoned to
Remain a piscatarian.
You wouldn’t cuddle a fish, but he
Reckoned he'd cuddle a unicorn foal - in total secret!
At the corner of his eye he saw a human, a collar upon its
Scrawny neck, being led by an elegant, bejewelled Pixie.
He didn’t approve, but now they were quite rare in the
Home Realm there was a bit of a fashion for owning them,
And somewhere he had heard, breeding the strange little souls.
This, news did not sit easy with him. Enough of them still
Leaked through, some causing all sorts of damage
In their rushing about, screaming, and what have you.
He shrugged, turned and hailed a passing rickshaw.
He chatted, then, as was his wont, with its centaur.
As with all such, he had strong views about everything!
Thus he pleasantly whiled away unhurried time
Until they stopped nearby the Teddington Lock.
He gave the centaur a charm, more for the entertainment
Than the speed of the ride. He was getting on a bit, in truth.
Having made then his farewells he strode over to the barge,
His home when in the Home Realm, placing Timothy on his
Perch by the door as he ducked inside. Esme was not there
But he had guests, it appeared.
Oh joy! He had other things
In mind, more personal and intimate. They would have to wait.
It is said that elves drink naught but wine. Not so.
He passed each of the trio a glass of fresh pressed, chilled
Synsepalum dulcificum
juice, the berries for which,
Courtesy of his dear friend the Arch-Mage of Oxbridge,
And then seating himself comfortably, asked them, what news?
Arwen, it was, who took up the answer, her great eyes wide.
There was to be much bloodshed it seemed, in the Old Lands,
Elven folk set against Dwarven folk.
The Species Covenant itself was threatened!
Madness rampaged, so it seemed, and a new territory
Had been declared, centred upon
The Holy City of Jershalom/Jerusalem,
Elven followers of the Mage of El-Shaddai violently
Casting out from the homes many of their rightful owners,
Allowing succour only to others of their exact ilk;
And now a great army of the Dwarven folk
Surrounded the entire city, led by Caldria,
Servant/Priest of Clangeddin Silverbeard,
And she was swearing absolute and total destruction
Of all followers of the mad mage,
Covenant be damned!
Shit, he thought.
.....................................................................................................
The dragon rider hailed him, reached down
And gave him a hoist up.
He settled on his saddle,
Checked Timothy was secure in his carry-bag,
And then prepared for the hop to Heathrow.
It would be faster to use a human transport,
And time was of the essence, if disaster
Was to be avoided – and his Master said it was!
A scant handful of minutes were to pass
Before they set down in Terminal 4
Where he swiftly established a Man identity, and then
Jumped to an El Al flight which was currently boarding,
Direct for Ben Gurion International Airport.
He preferred El Al for their paranoia. Humans
Seemed to have a rash of mad bombers, and El Al
Security systems were very tight. Since he needed
Not to wait in queues, having switched his mark
Into the Home Realm, he boarded the craft,
Strolled to First Class, and took the seat of,
He glanced at the ticket, a Mr George Granville,
A big wheel, he gathered from the obsequious
Greetings of the stewards.
Sipping champagne -
Humans had some useful skills - he felt a pang of
Remorse regarding Mr Granville who was suffering
The ignominy of flying aback a dragon, stuffed in
A sack. He would be
dropped in front of the
US Embassy, and the blessing he carried,
Good for one trip only, would send him back into his realm.
By the time he managed to establish his authenticity,
The flight would have long landed,
And he would have re-entered the Home Realm.
The flight was uneventful, with lousy food, as usual.
These creatures just didn’t know how to make a curry!
They even thought it was first developed by human minds
In the Octal land they know as India. His mind briefly
Flitted back to curry eaten at formal dinners in the
Pixie Hold in Slough.
Now, Pixies really knew how
To make curry. They,
after all, invented it and
Had made it for millennia.
How the slosh they called
Curry came about in this realm, he knew not.
Why in the name of the Goddess had he ordered it?
A triumph of optimism over experience - again!
.....................................................................................................
Landing at 2.15 p.m. local time he slipped from
The light and heat of the tarmac in Ben Gurion Int
Into the Home Realm where the sun was rising.
He immediately freed Timothy from his travel bag,
To go and hail a dragon but found it unnecessary
As one dropped down beside him.
He was expected.
He climbed aboard and they made the brief hop to
Bethlem/Bethlehem, where the headquarters of
Caldria and her besieging troops was situated,
Somewhat of a way from the action, he noted wryly.
He landed in Manger Square, close by the
Church Of The Naivety as his folk liked to call it,
Where he was greeted by Caldria herself,
Golden armour plating glittering in the early sunlight.
He was not fooled, knowing under her outer coating
She would be covered in Kevlar, another useful
Invention - Dwarven, he recalled - that somehow humans had
Also got hold of and, as with curry, not completely
Successfully! The Wise
Goddess Danu be praised that
Their fearful weaponry did not function in the Home Realm!
She ushered him into a small, unadorned, private room,
Decorated with but two chairs, a table and two toadstones,
Where serving gnomes brought forth jugs of foaming
Dwarven beer which, praise all, it was obligatory to quaff
Until the jugs were empty before talks could commence.
Regretfully he cast a charm upon his stomach to hold back
The worst (though best) effects, plus any possible poison,
Thus obviating the need to swallow the ghastly toadstone
Which always gave him indigestion, poison or not.
It also made him look as though he trusted her. He didn't,
But there was, of course, no harm in letting it appear so.
He chugged away contentedly, not prepared to rush.
Goddess, this Dwarven beer was mind-numbingly good and
Made the human brewed 1664 and Duvel seem like bats piss,
Though he conceded it was pretty good quality bats piss,
And in extremis in the Human Realm his bats piss of choice.
He stopped his wool gathering and observed Caldria
As she stroked her beard thoughtfully whilst
Staring deep into his eyes as though seeking answers
That would please her.
She found none there so
She asked if it was true.
His slightest of nods assured her that it was.
She then, in her zealotry, asked how many, as though,
If the odds were right, she might consider taking them on!
He answered very softly that it was three hordes,
Each horde containing one hundred thousand.
The news slipped into her heart like a cold stiletto.
She visibly gulped. Three
hundred thousand orcs!
He nodded slightly again, reading her mind,
And informed her then of the goblins,
A multitude on wyvern back, all armed to flame.
She nodded her understanding and slowly stood,
Shaken ... and beaten ... before she had really started.
If the Master proposed to put those troops into the field
To enforce his will, he was serious. Very serious.
She bowed low and respectfully, and turned to leave.
He called her back, presenting the rest of his message.
This was not a defeat for her.
He was to visit next
The Mage of El-Shaddai and inform him of the same.
Since she wanted him gone, she should consider it a victory.
Suddenly then she smiled.
He loved those rare dwarf smiles.
They seemed to somehow rise from the heart and burst
From the lips and eyes, a sort of bubbling stream of joy.
....................................................................................................
He returned to his waiting dragon.
It was early, yet, and the twin moons had but risen a tad.
As he climbed aboard once more, informing the
Dragon master of his next port of call, Timothy landed.
He krawed urgently, seeking permission for a linkage.
He nodded and opened his mind, then to receive images
Of a pit full of stakes and heavy oil being camouflaged
Under the dragon landing pad within the Great Sin of Gog,
As the humans didn’t call it.
The Mage of El-Shaddai,
It appeared, thought that destroying the Master’s envoy
Might destroy the consequences of ignoring the message.
This really irritated him, more than a little. It wouldn’t!
Unsure as to the loyalties of the Dragon Master
He had him put down near the Jay’ffa/Jaffa Gate,
Outside the city walls, and then having walked
From the dragon’s sight, slipped effortlessly, using once
Again his unique skill, into the bustling human realm,
Where he hailed a taxi to take him to the Great Synagogue,
Feeling a little guilty when on arrival he slipped out without
Paying. He didn’t do money. It was filthy stuff.
He swiftly cast a blessing on the driver, in lieu,
And then joined a group of tourists on a tour.
He lagged behind somewhat, using his blessèd skill
To dip in and out of the Home Realm until he established
Exactly where the Mage of El-Shaddai was standing
By the dragon landing pad, waiting to watch him die.
His timing was immaculate, though he said so himself.
He entered the Home Realm behind the Mage, placing
An arm around his plump neck and a knife against his mouth,
Requesting firmly that he did not wriggle. It took but seconds
And he dragged the murderous zealot into the Realm Of Man,
Where
he dropped him promptly, with a shove, and swiftly
Moved away, concealing
himself amongst the visiting throngs.
He heard a commotion. It
was unlikely that the Mage
Would handle the situation well.
He would never have
Visited the Human Realm before, would not understand it,
And, of course, would know that he had no way back,
Unless the Master forgave him and sent his Envoy to
Return him to the Home Realm ... an unlikely event made
Even less so when two shots rang out. Israeli security
Tended to be a little trigger happy when people,
Especially dressed in weird attire, ran amok.
...................................................................................................
He waited for two days, having found a pleasant inn
Within the Home Realm, well stocked with good food
And fine victuals, though, sadly, no Dwarven Ale; but
There was company that pleased, especially that of a
Wandering Mage, a story teller who was accompanied
By a small, Jack Russell which had somehow made it
Through to Home Realm and found itself a fine companion.
The hours were easily passed there, swapping yarns
And playing cards with a strange trio of friends,
An imp, a knocker and, of all things, a leprechaun,
All on a furlough from the local Thieves Guild.
His sojourn was occasionally interrupted by Timothy,
Reporting on the disposition of the two sets of protagonists
In this particular, tasteless, pathetic and absurd drama.
True to her word, Caldria had marched her troops away
In good order, returning north to the mountains and
Cave communities they loved so dear, assured by him
Of the up-coming neutrality which would once again
Exist in the Eternal City, Jershalom/Jerusalem.
With the lifting of the siege, and the news circulating,
Supplied by eyewitness accounts, of what had happened
To the Mage of El-Shaddai, why, by who, and on whose order,
The
troops wisely, considering discretion the better part of
Valour, discretely and
quietly departed, first in ones and threes,
Then in larger numbers until quite soon the city was clear
Once more of military interference and could return, happily,
To its old life as a centre of scholarship and research.
He was glad things had ended so neatly, and though he
Regretted saying farewell to the inn and the good folk there,
It was none-the-less a pleasure to have Timothy call up
A long-distance dragon.
As he clambered up to the
Sleeping chamber upon its back, Timothy on his shoulder,
He smiled, more at home already as he noticed
The cheery cockney accent of the Dragon Master who
Welcomed him on board and wished him a good night.
He entered the little chamber, strapped in and to his surprise
Fell asleep so quickly that he knew nothing of the trip
Until Timothy woke him and informed him of their arrival
At London’s busy hub, Bushy Park Dragon And Wyvern port.
He promptly gave the Dragon Master a considerable blessing
And
then went in haste to the rickshaw rank and chose a young,
Strongly built centaur for his ride home. He was suddenly
In a hurry to be there, and call from the water the sweet Naiad,
Esme, his one and only love, and hold her warm against him.
He allowed himself the luxury of feeling his true yearning
For her and the tenderness no one would expect to find
Within the heart of the Master’s Prime Envoy and Assassin.
