|
Note: although this submission from one of my best buddies Di came a little too late to win a prize, her characterisation of both canon and FCs and her brilliant brand of humour meant I couldn't help but give this a special mention. As soon as I can I'll be illustrating this fic, but for now sit back and enjoy the most professionally-written Muse Academy fanfiction I have ever read! By Agent Di  Disclaimer: I don't own Muse Academy or any of its canon characters, JJ Shippen does. This story and additional characters (Larch, Nainsi, Deirdre, Morgan, & Skitch) are mine. Summary: A bedtime story told from Larch's point of view of a time when he and the prankster Puck butted heads. Warning: he's been known to squash-and-stretch the truth.
The faerie ruler, King Oberon, was loungin' about in the palace throne room with his favorite foot stool.
Ol' Oby was kickin' up his heels after puttin' a certain spiky haired troublemaker back in his place. "Well now Puck, maybe next time you'll think twice before using the royal mahogany, hand carved furniture to build forts out in the stables." The king tossed a smirk down at his henchman then went back to admiring his goblet of nectar. "S-Sure thing." Puck grit his teeth and tried to steady his shaking arms. It felt like he'd been down there on all fours for hours. Before the lowly third class' arms could give out, the sound of heels clicking against the polished tile floor caused both faeries' ears to perk. "Ah Titania, and how is my fair queen this morning?" Oberon greeted his wife with honeyed words and a sweeping gesture.
The blue-haired monarch glanced up from the scroll she'd been reading and frowned at the sight before her. "Oby, dearest, how many times must I ask you not to mistreat the help? Now be a peach darling and get poor Puck up off that cold floor."
Oberon grinned sheepishly and lifted his shoes off the blonde's spine. "Ah, ahem, I was j-just exercising a bit of tough love with the lad. After all dear, the boy must learn-"
"-that everyone makes mistakes sometimes and his rulers are fair and just people who understand that," she retorted matter-of-factly and took her seat on the adjacent throne. "Honestly Oby, he's only a young sprite. Let him have a little fun." With that said she resumed skimming and signing the documents she'd be given by one of the other royal attendants earlier that day. "It seems like all I do is paperwork these days," the queen sighed. "And there's been so much of it lately that I hardly have time to read it through first."
The king tapped his fingers together in an attempt to seem inconspicuous. It was best to keep his wife in the dark when it came to his latest plans. Especially with her close ties to the head of the so-called Muse Academy. She would most certainly disapprove.
"Oh and before I forget," with a smirk he drew another scroll from his inner vest pocket and presented it to the queen, "I'll require your signature on this one too."
Titania released a sigh of frustration. "Another one? And what pray tell does this concern?"
"Just more of those tedious, trifling court affairs dear," Oberon assured her and waved his hands dismissively. "No need to trouble yourself skimming through all that fine print."
"Well, I suppose." She tapped the feathered end of the quill against her cheek thoughtfully before lowering it to the dotted line. There was a sharp 'snap!' as she placed her quill to the parchment.
"Oh no," she winced as the tip split and broke off, "ruined! And this way my favorite quill. The one you gave me on our three hundredth anniversary."
"Hm, so that's the Feather Anniversary?" the prankster mused to himself.
"Now June bug don't get so worked up-"
But the emotional queen had reached her limit. With a hand pressed to her forehead she exclaimed, "That's it, I've had enough. I'm going to lie down. I'll trust you to see that no one disturbs me for the rest of the day."
The two males watched her leave the room dejectedly. Oberon frowned, this wasn't good. He needed her signature on that scroll to get the ball rolling on his latest plan.
"I tell you Puck, it's a wonder I manage to get anything done while married to such a drama queen." he sulked and slumped a cheek against his hand. "Still, if it's a gryphon feather my blue rose desires then I won't rest until it's done. Now urm, be a good lad and go fetch one."
Puck stopped working the kinks out of his back and shot the king a baffled look. "What? Me?? Aw c'mon! Gryphon feathers are the rarest around! Where am I supposed to find another one?"
"You'll figure something out," the king huffed and waved him off, "you always manage somehow."
"Hm ..." Puck held his chin in his hand and tilted his head in thought. "Well, there's always the Black Magic Market? But it'll cost ya your weight in gold coins."
"Absolutely not," Oberon bristled, "I didn't pay for the first and I'm certainly not shelling out a shilling to those riffraff for a replacement."
Puck blinked but decided not to ask. Probably came across the first one by accident and attached a wild egocentric story to it.
"What are you waiting for Goodfellow?" The king had grown impatient with Puck's daydreaming. "Get out there and fetch me that feather. Return to the palace with it by sundown and I might even overlook your latest string of transgressions."
"Really?" The young sprite's face lit up. "Even the ones ya haven't found out about yet?"
The king arched a brow, "What do you mean-?"
But Puck bolted up and shook his hand giddily. "Oh yes sir, it's a deal! Don't worry about a thing! Robin will make amends! We deliver by dusk or your money back!"
And before the faerie king could inquire further about Puck's undiscovered shenanigans the sprite was out the door leaving a trail of skid marks on the polished floor behind him.
In the very depths of Ireland, where no mortal dare explore, the dreaded Phantom Queen paced one of the many chambers in her macabre castle. Centuries later and the exiled spirit faerie remained determined that her foes would pay. The King and Queen of Albion were at the top of her list of enemies ever since the day her takeover schemes were ruined. As a result, her precious butterfly wings were torn away and she was cast out of the kingdom. Now Sidhe was her domain, and it was as foreboding and dismal as the dark queen herself.
"I'VE GOT IT!" Her sudden exclamation shattered the eerie silence. "The perfect means to an end for merry Albion and their beloved monarchy."
The queen's top minions—the young leprechaun Larch and lethargic gnome Skitch—snapped to attention.
"This plot won't fail," the monarch assured herself. "They'll never see it coming!"
A short time later, up in the west tower ...
Morgan grabbed book after book, pouring over her most malevolent spells and incantations. Having mastered the dark arts ages ago (with a little help from the misled magician Merlin) she had grown in power so much that her magic now rivaled that of the faerie King and Queen. Moving her finger down the page her catlike yellow eyes flashed in sinister delight when her nail fell upon the desired spell.
"Ah, here we are," her tone was a low murmur that sent chills down her henchmen's spines, "I knew that lovesick wizard had mentioned the existence of such incantations. Behold, a spell that will summon an ill wind to blow dark clouds before the heavens then BLAST Albion with all the fury of nature!"
Larch and Skitch simultaneously gulped and exchanged uneasy glances. The queen had somewhat of an affinity with storms and this one sounded like the mother of all disasters.
"Ahahaha! Remember dear Titania," the queen mused darkly, "you may be able to predict your enemies, but you CAN'T predict the weather!"
"Oh great," Larch sighed, "she's finally lost it."
"Like she ever had it," the gnome mumbled.
Grinning wickedly, the Phantom Queen skimmed the page of ingredients. "Wing of bat, dragon scale, Red Sea salt, a lizard's tail ..." The duo cringed when her face contorted into an irritated scowl. "Curses! Firebird ash and a gryphon's feather," she growled. "Those disgusting fowl are the rarest creatures in the realm!"
Skitch removed his cap and scratched his balding head in bewilderment. "B-But your highness, I thought you had a whole urn o' firebird ash, l-last time I took inventory o' your mixin's and potions."
"Not the firebird you sniveling dolt!" she snapped. "The gryphon!"
"Well technically, it's part lion." he corrected.
"SILENCE!"
"Or was that a sphinx?"
Larch seized the opportunity to rise up in favor ... and get the heck out of that castle. "Not a problem yer majesty. Why I'll just pop by yer favorite market and-"
"NO!"
The leprechaun jumped and blinked, "No?"
"That's what she said," Skitch nodded.
"If those deceitful black magic merchants let it slip to the royal pests that I'm seeking a gryphon feather it will ruin everything!" Her hair went aflame causing Larch to dive behind Skitch, who was already cowering behind his cap.
"The acquiring of this key ingredient must be done discreetly and far from prying eyes. Larch," the carrot top reluctantly stepped forward, "you will go out into the wild and collect a fresh feather. Oblivion's Peak should be an excellent location to find them ‘in season'. Now go! I want it back here by sundown. For I have no intention of letting Albion see another sunrise."
"Hope you're good at solvin' riddles," Skitch muttered.
"THAT's sphinx," Larch grumbled.
And so the handsome leprechaun set out on the dangerous quest to find a gryphon and pluck out one o' its coveted feathers. Yes, it was a task that would've sent many lesser men runnin' for their mums, but not our hero.
Brave and bold, cunnin' and quick, nothin' could stand in his way ... except a certain spiky haired menace more stubborn than a whole pack o' mules
The sound of melodic whistling pierced the air. Puck was on his merry way to collect said feather too. And it was only a matter of time before the two beings, each approaching the same destination from opposite directions, crossed paths with each other. "Let's see here," the faerie thought aloud as he walked, "I've heard it said these bird beasties are native to India. And they come all the way out here to lay their eggs up in the mountains. So if I was a mama gryphon lookin' to build a nest, what better place to do it then up on Oblivion's Peak?"
The faerie glanced up from the base of the mountain. The great rock seemed to stretch all the way up to the sky like the fabled beanstalks. To mortal eyes it was only a couple thousand feet high. But to those with the ability to see past the magical mists encircling the top like clouds, it extended much, much further. "Wow," Puck whistled as he craned his neck further to marvel at the sheer height of the obstacle he'd have to climb, "now that's a mother of a pebble."
Spitting into each hand and slapping them together he prepared to scale the monster mountain. Head high he strolled right up to the side, crouched down, and-
WHOOSH!
-soared off into the sky at full speed.
"No sense doing this the hard way," the faerie chuckled.
Of course he'd have to pause every ten thousand feet or so to rest a moment before continuing the steep ascent. But hey, it beat scaling up the side.
"Phew boy," Larch stood on the opposite side sizing it up, "they don't call it Oblivion's Peak for nothin'." Mimicking Puck's previous actions (and cringing when he remembered he was wearing gloves), he slapped his hands together and produced a long, black cane with a golden handle.
"Heh, she's a beaut alright but she's no match for me cunnin' intellect." As if proving his point he twirled the cane around and stuck the tip into a crack on the side. Almost instantly the stone wall began to tremble and finally broke apart into a spiraling formation of steps leading up to the top. "Goin' up." he mused, "No thanks, I believe I'll take the stairs."
Up above, Puck's ears tweaked. He was on his third rest break when his perch began to shake. "Whoa, they building nests up there or Gryphon Estates?" But he shrugged it off and continued upwards. It was mid afternoon and he'd swore to return with the feather by dusk.
Larch had made good time on his trek up the mountain but he soon grew tired of climbing the winding steps. "Saints alive!" he griped, "Mount Olympus has nothin' on this!"
Both continued to climb for several more minutes before finally reaching the top.
"Ally oop!" Puck's voice rang out as he did a back handspring on the side of the ledge and landed gracefully in front of a large mass of glittery twigs and string.
"Hm ... what've we here?"
It was a well known fact among immortals (and certain mortals who bothered to care) that gryphons preferred to collect, guard, and build their nests out of treasure and gold.
"Mmphf! Huff! Gasp! Wheeze!"
On the opposite side of the ledge Larch had finally managed to catch up, looking worse for the wear as his stairs had run out just short of the top. "Don't look down. Don't look down. Don't look down." he kept repeating while scrambling over to the nest. "Phew! Eheheh, there now, that wasn't so hard."
Simultaneously the lep and fae crawled over the sides of the gryphon's nest and-
"AAHHH!!"
"AAHHH!!"
Larch screamed when he came face-to-face with the last person he'd expected to see thousands of feet up. And Puck screamed in response. Both lost their grip and tumbled backward, struggling to keep balanced on the narrow ledge. That lasted for all of two seconds then they each fell screaming to the ground below.
A large red birch tree broke their fall, and just about everything else. Between the two of them they must've smacked every branch on the way down.
"Ooohh ..." Puck moaned and wobbled to and fro as stars twirled around his aching head. "Lotta good havin' these did me," he gestured at his crumpled wings. "Gotta remember to use ‘em next time."
He perked his ears and froze at the sound of irate cursing from the pile of broken limbs nearby. Hopping over to inspect the branches he murmured, "Oospie, sounds like I upset the tree."
Suddenly Larch shot up from the mass of leaves, mad as hornet! "OF ALL THE LOWDOWN, DIRTY, ROTTEN THINGS TO DO! JUST WHO DO YE THINK YE ARE-" he stopped mid-rant and gasped, "-YOU?!"
The faerie's face instantly lit up. "SQUEAKERS!" And I thought this was gonna be a pleasant day. "Just perfect, I knew I should've brought me bug spray."
"Nice to see you too sunshine," Puck remarked, unfazed by the insult. He'd heard worse and there was nothing funnier than watching that vein in Larch's neck pop out.
"And just what do ye think yer doin' here?" he demanded. "And what's the big idea throwin' me off a cliff, hm?!"
"Hmph, for yer information," Puck mocked, "I'm out here on official business for Oby the Unbearable."
The leprechaun's jaw dropped. Of all the luck!
"Ye don't mean to tell me that yer king sent ye all the way out here to-"
"-pluck a gryphon." The blonde nodded and crossed his arms behind his back. "The queen's broken her favorite quill."
He waited a few seconds while Larch sat dumbstruck before arching a brow and grinning down. "And what're you doing in this neck of the woods Larchy?"
Caught! it was written all over his face.
"W-What do ye mean?" the carrot top stammered. "Can't a guy take a stroll through the forest without someone jumpin' all over his case for it?"
If Puck wasn't suspicious of Larch's intentions before, he was certain of them now. But he opted to let things play out, since it's more fun that way. "Riiight. Well, if you'll excuse me, I've got an errand to run."
Larch turned his head as Puck skipped off, back over to the mountain. "What about the King Oberon?"
"Well…okay, there's him."
"And Queen Titania?"
"And her."
"Light-hearted, victimless pranks-"
"Okay, so there's that."
"-sunny days, pretty flowers, harmony ..."
"Deird! Yer doin' it again!"
"Sorry, heh."
"Ponies?"
"Nainsi, don't ye be startin' now too."
"Hm, I'm pretty sure she's more into snarling Hell Hounds than po-"
"CAN WE JUST GET BACK TO THE STORY HERE?!" Puck repeated his earlier exercise in preparation to launch himself up the mountain again. But to his dismay, the fall had taken a crippling toll on his wings. No sooner had he sprung into the air, than a sharp pain shot through the leafy veins and brought him back down on his rear.
The sound of laughter made him turn to see Larch grinning down in amusement. "Guess it's true what they say: what goes up, must come down."
"Oh har har," the blonde rocked his head in fake laughter, "I could've been halfway to the top by now if my wings weren't banged up."
"Maybe ye ought to consider that little drawback the next time ye go cliff divin'?" the leprechaun chided.
The faerie just growled.
"Well now," Larch straightened his collar and tucked the dented cane under his arm, "since yer in no shape for flyin' and me cane here's seen better days, what do ye say we make a fair sport o' this?"
Puck arched a brow to let him know he was listening.
"The sun over there'll be settin' in under an hour and we both need to be headin' back." he explained. "So why don't we put magic aside and settle it like men?"
The faerie blinked and looked from Larch to the mountain. "You mean, climb it ourselves?"
"Exactly," he nodded, "a good ol' fashioned race to the top! May the best man win!"
"Heh, you're on!" Puck couldn't believe the fastidious leprechaun had actually suggested it. Beating Larch at his own game was one thing, but watching him scuff up his fancy shoes in the process would be the icing on the cake!
"Then it's settled," they shook and took their places at the start of the staircase Larch had created earlier. "On three." The faerie readied himself while his opponent counted down.
"One ..."
Bright amber eyes narrowed on the rocky stairs ahead.
"Two ..."
His fingers wiggled in anticipation at his sides.
"Two-and-a-half ..."
Pointy ears perked and slowly eased back as his wings pinned themselves against his shoulders.
"THREE!"
Puck coughed and swatted the air. A huge dust cloud had been kicked up when Larch sped off at lightning speed. In his excitement Puck had forgotten the one key fact when dealing with leprechauns: NEVER take your eyes off them. A split second was all the carrot top had needed to get a head start in the race. Still, it would take a lot more than that to keep Puck out of the game. More determined than ever he took off after the leprechaun, bounding up the stone steps three to four at a time he was quickly closing in on his illusive adversary. Already confident that his victory was in the bag Larch tossed a glance over his shoulder. Brown eyes bulged when he saw the progress the flightless fae was making. Puck was close behind when he felt something encircle his ankle and yank him back. With a loud yelp he fell forward and banged his chin against one of the steps.
Up ahead he could hear Larch chuckling to himself, "That's the thing about clovers, they'll spring up pretty much anywhere!"
Muttering a few choice words Puck got to his feet and detached himself from the obvious booby trap. But as the saying goes: don't get mad, get even. "Well if that's the way he wants to play it," the blonde grinned slyly and continued up the mountain.
Larch was beaming once again, totally sure of his victory, as he reached what he thought to be the halfway point. "No stoppin' me now!"
Or so he thought ...
Puck snickered when he saw Larch rush straight into his pollen cloud. With his hand against the wall he'd managed to send a burst of potent plant magic straight over to the batch of wildflowers he'd spotted on the first trip up. "ACHOO!" And now a certain underhanded lep was battling a nasty dose of hay fever.
Being a gardener, Puck enjoyed one of the great perks of the trade, high tolerance to pollen and other outdoor allergens. So he took great delight in sprinting past his teary-eyed foe.
"No time to stop and smell the flowers Shorty," he called over his shoulder, "laggin' behind's nothin' to sneeze at!"
"Like those aren't the worst puns I ever he—hear—hearACHOO!!"
"Yeah."
"Oh so I suppose yer both takin' his side now?"
"Hey, you've got to admit Larch, you're the one technically cheated first."
"Yeah, cheating bad!"
"Hmph, I prefer to think of it as a—err—tactical maneuver. Yeah, that's right. I was just—uhh—bendin' the rules a bit, that's all."
"Mm-hmm."
"Now, getting back to the race." The two competitors dashed up the winding stairs (generously provided by yers truly) round the mountain and straight toward the top. Meanwhile the sky was darkening with the orange and faded red hues. Time was running out and it was a neck-and-neck struggle to grab the feather and escape their masters' wrath. And needless to say, with so much at stake, there was still plenty of rule bendin' going on, on both sides.
After a nasty bout with a bunch of mini boulder gremlins, Puck was eager to throw his own obstacle in the crafty lep's path. And that came in the form of a barrage of magic orbs. Each packed enough power to blast away large chunks of the stairs, which left Larch to leap about for secure footing.
"Dern trigger happy pixies and their sparkly lil magic balls," he grumbled just as one ‘magic ball' exploded on the seat of his pants. "YAH!!" Puck cackled when the leprechaun jumped ten feet in the air, his backside glowing green like an overgrown firefly.
Larch landed shakily on the edge of one of the steps and started fanning his burnt bottom. Things suddenly went dark when Puck sprang over his shoulders and yanked the bulky hat down over his head. Muffled protests rang out eliciting another bout of laughter from the fae as he took the lead again. "What's the matter Shorty? I thought the turtle was supposed to beat the hare?!"
"Oh I'll beat ye alright!" Larch sneered when he finally managed to free himself from his hat.
As much as he hated taking his smaller form, he was hell bent on winning the race and—more importantly—wiping that smug grin off Puck's face in the process. Using a technique that he liked to refer to as his ‘squash-and-stretch maneuver', Larch shrank himself down to execute his next scheme. At his present height he was the perfect size. With his dented cane held up above his head he took off at lightning speed and pole-vaulted right over the spiky haired fae.
"HA! HA!"
Puck's mouth gaped when he saw the little lep come soaring over his head. And a big part of him wanted to burst out laughing at the ridiculous sight.
"Well what d'ya know?" he mused aloud, "I guess a little Larch goes a long way."
"The joke's on ye Squeakers," his pint-sized rival announced. "It may be a little dinged up, but there's still enough o' me magic left in this cane to whip up a mini cyclone!"
Puck skidded to a stop just as little Larch struck the tip of his cane against the step he'd landed on. Instantly a flurry of clovers appeared, spiraling up around the cane, growing faster and wider until it could sustain itself. The sprite's pupils nearly shrank out of sight when he saw the clover twister barreling his way.
Larch sprouted up to full height and tipped his hat toward the panicked fae. "Enjoy the ride Squeakers. I've got a race to win!"
"GYAH!!" Puck screamed as he was engulfed and whirled round and around inside the swirling mass of clovers.
By the time it was over his stomach was doing summersaults, and Larch was practically a hop, skip, and a jump away from the top.
"Hn, ye say it like tis no big thing."
"Well you are the one telling the story. So I just kind of expected it."
"Well things don't always turn out the way ye expect ‘em too Deird."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, the story ain't over til it's over."
"Story done. The End."
"NO! Nainsi let me finish!" Our hero Larch was ALMOST at the top when that air-headed fae got another idea.
When the world stopped spinning Puck scrambled to get his bearings. It had gotten down to the wire and he needed to think fast if he wanted to reach that feather before Larch.
Honey-colored eyes scanned his surroundings and came to rest on the rocky wall beside him. And so the final leg of the race began. By the time Larch made it round to the end of the stairs Puck was already halfway up to the ledge.
"That sneaky little colt pixie!" Not one to call it quits he grabbed hold of the rocky surface and started hauling himself up toward the bejeweled nest.
Inch-by-inch they climbed, nearly parallel with each other. With their strength and most of their magical reserves exhausted the two were running on pure adrenaline. Thousands of feet up they appeared as tiny dots scaling the great rock. The setting sun behind them served as a reminder that it was their final shot at nabbing the feather.
Regardless of when they were expected back, if a gryphon spotted them invading her nest, their gooses were cooked!
"Al-most ... there," Puck grunted as he reached out to grasp the ledge.
"Not ... if I ... get there ... first," Larch huffed with equal determination.
Finally, after what seemed like a small eternity, both scrambled up onto the ledge and darted over to the nest.
"Not so fast there Squeakers!"
"Outta the way Shorty!"
Both bumped shoulders and shoved at one another in an attempt to reach it first. Aside from being constructed out of the finest gold, silk, and various forms of treasure, the nest was large and took up nearly the entire top of the ledge. Peering inside they spotted a variety of jewels, coins, and valuable trinkets. In the center rested a total of three rather peculiar looking stones.
"Agates?" the carrot top mumbled as he held up one of the heavy rocks up to examine. "Why would a griffin be guardin' a bunch o' volcanic rocks?"
"Wouldn't do that if I were you," Puck cautioned bemusedly.
"And why's that?"
"Because gryphon eggs are supposed to look like agates. It keeps them safe from predators," the fae replied wittingly.
Larch gulped, "Then that means, this here's a-"
"Yep."
"Aah!" the lep fumbled with the stone and dropped it clumsily back into the nest.
"Careful!" Puck snapped.
Thankfully it landed safely and rolled back toward the center with the other two. Both pairs of eyes watched it progress and lit up when they spotted the golden cushion behind it.
"A feather!!" they exclaimed in unison.
They sprang forward at once again began to scramble for the priceless plume. But a sudden gust of air blew it up beyond their reach.
"Oh perfect!" Larch shouted mid hop. "Nice goin' Squeakers!"
"Me?!" the fae demanded.
"That's right," the lep pointed a finger accusingly, "if ye hadn't been so grabby the feather'd still be in the nest right-"
He froze when a golden object drifted down from above. Mahogany eyes locked with amber, and then narrowed, as another feather swayed between them. Before either could burst out with "IT'S MINE!" another feather fell, and another, and another, and another ...
"Tis rainin' feathers!" Larch gasped.
"No, I-I think it's molting," Puck stammered, staring upward in shock.
"What's moltin'?"
The blonde pointed up to the giant gryphon hovering above them. A loud squawk confirmed Puck's fears and sent both would be gryphon-pluckers scurrying around the ledge. But they had little room to move as the angry creature swooped down with claws bared to attack the intruders. In a matter of seconds they were driven to either side of the ledge. The gryphon flapped its wings furiously, creating a powerful gust of wind that pushed them all the way back ... over the edge.
"Oh no," Larch's eyes bulged when he saw the rocky ground disappear beneath him, "not AGAAAAIIIIIIIIN!!!!!"
"That's the last time I play errand boy!" Puck vowed as he plummeted toward the forest floor for the second time that day.
In the middle of saying his last prayers (figuratively, thank immortality) the leprechaun spotted something falling just below him. Twisting a bit he managed to come down beside it. A wide grin instantly spread across his face. A feather! Needless to say, he immediately snagged it—then crashed into a limb branching out from the side of the mountain.
"... Ow."
A little ways around Oblivion's Peak, his rival's fall (among other things) was about to be broken too.
"I wish I'd brought a parachute," the faerie muttered dryly before he vanished in the thick branches of a giant oak. "OMPHF! AHH! OUCH! OOH! GYAH!! UMPH!!"
Puck landed on the ground followed by several leaves and broken branches. With a wince of pain he sat up and glanced down to find he was sitting on something yellow and-
"This is it!" he gasped and jumped for joy. "I've found it, woohoo! Robin Goodfellow triumphs again! Ha! Ha! Take THAT Larchy!"
Meanwhile Larch climbed down with his feather and set off back through the woods in search of a suitable clearing where he could use his clover cyclone to transport himself home. He looked unsure as he gazed at his prize. All that work to get it and his conscience wouldn't stop nagging him.
A few steps later he paused and released a deep sigh.
Straightening up he attempted to play it off as though it were no big deal and casually released the feather into the wind.
Puck continued racing through the woods, leaping about and crowing out his victory.
"I'VE GOT IT! I'VE GOT IT! I'VE GOT-" he stopped running and furrowed his brow, upon closer inspection he could see the beaten feather in his grasp looked more like "-a twig." Well, one thing was for sure. His goose was cooked when Oberon found out.
"And I was so close."
But, as luck would have it, he wouldn't have to. For at that moment the breeze picked up and blew the discarded golden feather through the forest and straight into the face of the sulking sprite.
Again his face lit up as he rubbed his eyes in disbelief and marveled at his good fortune. "YES!!!"
Then he merrily skipped away and took the nearest shortcut home.
And that's how I saved Albion and all them clueless Fae Folk from certain doom.
"She wasn't too thrilled about it." He flinched at the memory and stood up to carry the sleeping kit to her crib. "But I managed to convince her that the bird had flown the coop and got off with a light scorchin'."
"Really?"
"Yep," he winked over at Deirdre when she entered carrying his coat and hat. Taking the latter he returned to the living room and emptied its contents into the fireplace. "And I've got the soot to prove it." |
TheMuseAcademy.com and all contents ©JJ Shippen 2005-7 unless otherwise stated. All rights reserved. Do not copy or redistribute without expressed permission.