Nutpuncher met her gaze pointedly, but she shook her head. Not yet. They needed an opening before they acted.
10
High Elves
Bert panted with effort as he used his trusty crowbar to free the wagon from yet another root. The journey down the mountain had been swift, but after a half day in Keeble Forest he’d begun to consider leaving the wagon behind.
Boberton sat licking himself with both heads, as he couldn’t do much but make the situation worse.
One final shove jostled the wheel loose and Bert gave a triumphant whoop. “Okay, boy. Bert is ready!”
Boberton stood back up, and cautiously stepped forward. Righty peered over his shoulder to make sure the wagon didn’t get stuck again, and then they threaded back onto the forest floor.
Pine needles carpeted everything, and made it difficult for Boberton to spot roots unless he walked very slowly. So slowly that Bert might be able to go faster on his own. He wouldn’t, of course. There was no point in adventuring without a buddy, and Boberton would be scared if Bert left him behind.
Bert would be scared for him.
Boberton’s pace increased to a walk, and the dog guided them through the forest, into a small meadow. They hadn’t encountered anyone, though Bert hadn’t really expected to.
The high elves were supposed to be legendary and aloof. Kit had been an elf, so they probably looked a great deal like her when she wasn’t foxing around.
A few of the adventuring parties that Bert had shadowed had mentioned the forest, but he couldn’t remember much of what they’d said. They didn’t seem to fear the high elves, and in fact were always more interested in some sort of treasure the elves possessed.
Bert couldn’t remember the name, but supposed that if he met any high elves he could ask them. They were supposed to be noble creatures, whatever that meant.
The day slowly crawled by as Boberton picked a path through the forest, the pine trees swaying above them.
Bert had nearly begun to nod off when Boberton abruptly stopped, and both Righty and Lefty began a baying sort of howl. Then the dog took off as fast as he could sprint, and the wagon bumped and jounced, and sent Bert tumbling all over the place.
It was wonderful! Bert loved it, bouncing and rolling as his dog took off into the forest. He knew it would probably end with another root, but it was so fun that Bert didn’t care.
Eventually Boberton’s mad dash slowed, and the dog rumbled to a halt beneath an enormous redwood tree. It towered high over the forest, and Bert could hear singing coming from within. What’s more, he could smell cookies. Wonderful, glorious, chocolate-chip cookies. No wonder Boberton had run so swiftly, and no wonder people loved high elves. This must be the treasure people were after!
Bert rose to his feet, and swayed back and forth for many moments before the world stopped spinning. Once he was certain he could move without falling he tossed the rope ladder over the side of the wagon, and began climbing down.
By the time he’d reached the forest floor Boberton had sat down at attention and eyed Bert with a pitiful whine.
“Okay, boy.” Bert walked to the base of the tree. “Bert will see if the elves will share cookies, and bring some back for Boberton.” He did hope the elves were willing to share.
As Bert approached the tree he realized a series of steps had been cleverly set into the side of it, and used them to scale the bole of the mighty tree. This must be one of the very trees he’d glimpsed from his window, and the elves must live inside.
He quickened his step, both because he’d love to try the cookies, and because Boberton was waiting for dinner. Bert quickly ran out of breath, but kept pumping his legs as he marched up step after step. Step. Step.
Then Bert froze. He was a powerful wizard. Or he knew some magic anyway. All he had to do was say what he wanted, right? Hmm. “Bert fly!”
Something stirred within Bert, and the awareness his trope provided told him that he’d just spent three points of magic to cast a fly spell. Bert rose into the air, and zoomed around the tree.
If he’d thought bouncing in the wagon had been fun he had been wrong. This was the real deal. Bert zoomed more quickly, whipping around the thick red bark as he approached a set of windows carved into the tree above.
The scent of cookies emanated from within, and the steps stopped outside of a door, with a little porch and a pair of rocking chairs. Bert hesitated as he crossed the final few feet. Another scent came from inside the house, a heavy musky aroma, like the incense mum sometimes burned.
A few whiffs made him light headed, and he felt really, really good. And really, really hungry. Bert landed on the porch, and politely rapped on the door. Elves were supposed to have excellent hearing, because they had big pointy ears. Everyone knew it.
“It’s open, man.” The words came from a woman inside.
Since Bert had permission he floated up to the door handle, and opened the door. All sorts of wonderful things were happening within. A pair of elves with tall pointy ears, beatific smiles, and bloodshot eyes stood churning a giant wooden spoon in a cauldron of wonderfully gooey chocolate fudge.
The female elf who’d spoken sat at a table next to an empty tray. Piles of crumbs dotted the table, and her lap, he noted. A strange tubular device with a ball at the base sat on the table next to her.
The wonderful smoke he’d smelled emanated from there, and he supposed it must be some sort of incense burner. A pool of water sat in the bottom, like you’d use when watering a plant. It wasn’t clear to Bert what the water might be used
