An Elf for All Centuries by S.A. Garcia

The limo halted next to a faded grass expanse. A century ago, the grass lawn may have looked green, but these days not enough sunlight helped its feeble struggle. Now the grass had given up trying for the green. Even the spiky weeds littering the plot drooped in despair. Across the ragged approach, a tattered tree line listlessly soared into the yellowish mist obscuring the sun’s rays. A shabby sign topping the copper gate announced, “Welcome to Park Haven.”

The driver glanced back at the three passengers. “Are you sure you want to stop here, Prince Fabion? This lonely spot always worries me. I hate leaving you here.”

Fabion waved his right hand in agreement. “Yep, Matt, we need the exercise.”

Hestran whined in annoyance before Fabion could even count to one. The quick reaction set a new fine whine record. “Ooooo come on, Fabion, sweeeetie. Damn, you want to walk through horrid, old Park Haven to reach the Sequoia? Are you insane? That’s toooo faaaaar.”

His sulky boyfriend’s high-pitched complaint made Fabion want to jam his fingers in his ears. Naw, the act seemed too rude even for Fabion’s selfish sensibilities. Instead he managed to smile at his bratty Hestran. “Come on, look at the weather! This afternoon the air quality is almost pretty. I can nearly see blue, well, all right, no, but I can imagine the color ruling the sky like in times past. Today I want to enjoy a walk through the park.”

Fabion hadn’t strolled through Park Haven in over a month. How sad. He needed to commune with the remaining nature on a more regular basis.

Lanaro leaned around the pouting Hestran and scowled in displeasure. “Fuck, you always need to act different, dude. Everyone knows that no well-bred elf walks into Park Haven from the east gate. This is the common, human gate.”

Fabion saw Matt’s professional face slip for a second. Why did Lanaro always act like such a prick? It was one thing to dislike humans, but insulting them to their face defined rudeness.

Lanaro deserved a tongue lashing and not a fun one. Hestran’s tiresome pouting had forced Fabion to agree to provide Lanaro a free ride from New Yorkshire’s snooty Shadyside district. Just his bad luck that Lanaro’s agent occupied the same building as Fabion’s. Fabion’s agent owned two floors, Lanaro’s agent owned a closet-size space. How dare the pedestrian elf think that he occupied Fabion’s regal league? Duh, Fabion was a well-bred prince, so there.

As he sniffed in disdain, Fabion tossed his red mane in practiced dismissal. “Hey, I don’t need to act different. I am different, because I am exceptionally special. I enter where I want, got it?” He pretended to ring a bell at the slackers. “Ding, ding, ding, this is the end of the line. Move your pretty asses from the limo. My man Matt is going home for the day.”

Fabion leaned forward. He flashed a massive bonus into his driver’s hand. Behind him Lanaro’s gasp added the perfect spice. Matt deserved the bonus for enduring those insults.

“Go have fun, dude.”

“Thanks, Prince Fabion!” Matt saluted Fabion. “As usual I’ll wait until you enter the park before I pull away.”

“As usual I commend your wise idea. Catch ya later.” Fabion exited into the ocher afternoon. Today even the air celebrated for him. At that moment, he doubted if anyone else in New Yorkshire acted giddier. His life embraced triumphant coolness, well, except for Lanaro’s presence.

Fabion leaned down to see what was happening inside the limo. Hestran and Lanaro remained sprawled on the seats like sullen children overdosed on pixie dust. Fabion almost slammed the door and told Matt to drive on and drop the ornery duo somewhere nasty like Dog End Quay.

“Will you two move your pretty asses? Exit on this side. We need to hustle into the park.”

Hestran’s wide eyes conveyed panic. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, sweetie, we run for protection, because some ass-wipe might take a shot at us. Get out but remain low.”

Fabion crouched and watched the other elves huddle beside him. He adored this dare. “On my count. One. Two. Three. Run!”

The trio darted across the grass toward the gate. Before they reached the protection offered by the remaining trees, a shot disturbed leaves from an overhead oak branch. Hestran shrieked in alarm.

No surprise, the elf-hating lunatic who roamed the hill opposite the entrance had shot at them. Inside the park, the limp, half-moldy leaves and runes deterred any further shooting.

Safe again! Fabion turned and shouted in snotty glee. “Up yours, you sorry asshole! You missed me again. Ever think about taking lessons?”

Fabion turned back to his companions and snickered. “See, dudes, that’s why I told you to run. The nut-bunny hasn’t hit me yet, but someday the goofball might get lucky. Yo, don’t worry, his silly bullets are useless in here.”

The gasping Hestran and Lanaro stared at Fabion in vivid fright, then shuddered in relief and almost fell to the leaf-littered ground. Fabion patted his chest. Safe and sound. Ouch, even his primo lungs needed a little recovery time. The leafy screen created by the low growing, red maple granted Fabion time to catch his breath. He refused to appear in public acting less than centered and serene. His lungs cooperated, sucked in air, and calmed. There.

Hestran and Lanaro appeared close to collapse. They continued gasping and choking in stress.

“Fuck, I haven’t run in years. That required too much effort.” Hestran recovered enough to kiss Fabion’s cheek. “You don’t want me to feel too tired for tonight, right?”

“Of course not. Now we’re safe. No more running required.” He stretched and breathed in again. He gestured toward the park’s interior. “Are we ready to rock? Let’s stroll, dudes.”

The decorative trio strutted across the tree-choked park. Fabion slowed down to examine the trees. Too many dead branches allowed the weak sun to leak past their skeletal shapes. The park looked worse than last month. How disturbing.

A few yards away, a large cluster of grubby humans stopped eating their picnic lunch and stared in open awe. Today’s relatively mild pollution allowed the frail humans to remove their breathers. How rare. Fabion performed his number two wave and smile combo. They waved back. Smart of them to acknowledge his legendary beauty.

Lanaro sniffed in disgust. “Talk about slumming! Why do you want to acknowledge those scruffy breeders? It’s bad enough they keep popping out their ugly brats. At least elves understand control.”

More like male elves were close to sterile and the female elves had almost vanished. “Lanaro, your nasty attitude is why the humans hate us. I don’t care if they enjoy the park. As long as they don’t bother me, I don’t bother them. Let them enjoy the trees.” Or what was left of the blighted growths. Fabion shivered in distress. The dying foliage worried him.

He needed to set that problem aside for later. A more important issue harassed Fabion’s nerves. The supermodel needed to urge Hestran to not hang around Lanaro anymore. The bigoted elf emitted toxic vibes worse than the poisoned sea. Even now his ill temper probably contributed to each tree’s sad demise.

Fabion turned away from Lanaro’s downer attitude and resumed walking. A small human girl, her pale, freckled face showing more dirt than flesh, raced up to him. Her filthy fingers tugged at his trouser leg. Hey! Her grip almost made Fabion yank free. Watch the dirt, child, these wheat-hued, hand-spun silk trousers cost plenty!

Fabion calmed down and recovered from his near recoil. He needed to stop fretting and act benevolent. Good promotional work helped maintain his smokin’ hot image. Never let a scandal-mag asshole using a long-range-laser digital camera capture nonsense. Snap, click, boom, reputation as a sweet, generous elf shot to smithereens. Scandal rags loved ripping down pure elves. To date, Fabion had conquered the silly mess, but then again, bribes always solved a few ugly, drunken problems.

Behind him Lanaro gagged in fresh disgust. “Gross. I’d kick that foul thing back into last century.”

What a supreme asshole. Despite his annoyance, a radiant smile brighter than the dim sun shone forth on Fabion’s face. He pitched his melodic voice into a wise, sincere tone. He imagined the ancients had sounded fuckin’ similar. “Yes, my little one?”

The walking dirtball smiled and clapped in glee. “Pretty elf, please touch my head!”

How quaint. Before he bent over, his fingers discovered a few hundred credits hidden in his vest pocket. Whoops, he must have skimped on Matt’s tip. No, his fingers had unearthed his emergency cash stash. Good.

Why did some human children regard an elf’s touch as a spiritual blessing? Aside from his incredible beauty and superior strength, Fabion owned no magical powers. Still, making a human happy appealed to him.

His blinding smile shone down on the unclean waif. Fabion leaned over and gingerly patted her snarled hair. What felt sticky? Did something squirm against his fingers? Fuck-a-yuck! His free hand slipped the child the credits.

“There, my dear girl, is this what you want from me?”

An excited squeal rang free. The dirty child curtsied and adoringly kissed Fabion’s clean fingers before she scampered off to where her less bold, yet equally soiled, friends huddled under a struggling magnolia tree. Delighted squeals and adoring exclamations drifted toward him along with curtseys. How cute.

Those wise children understood the kicky score. Fabion blew the happy tykes many sweet kisses. His act caused a tremendous giggling fit. He smiled and bowed.

Whispering occurred until the girls stood in a line and curtseyed in solemn unison.

Fine style. Fabion snickered in delight and waved goodbye. Okay, ego boy needed to move along.

“You touched that walking germ factory! She looked like she hadn’t bathed in months.” The shuddering Hestran almost hyperventilated in distress. “Fabion, why? Why do you do such rash things? Aren’t you going to de-germ yourself?”

Could his boyfriend sound a little more snotty? Fabion didn’t appreciate how Hestran slathered de-germer over his thin fingers.

“No, because we can’t catch human diseases! I ain’t fucking worried about it.” Fabion exhaled and forced himself to smile. “Please, Hestran, today I enjoy my glittering king of the advertising world status even if our world is a filthy, polluted armpit. Think, my killer new contract with Celebrant Sparkling Herbal Drink tucks another primo feather in my crowded cap. I feel fucking wonderful. Don’t you feel happy for me?”

Hestran pouted again. “I can’t believe you agreed to work with a Walmontech-owned company.”

Fabion shrugged. “Hey, those greedy asses made the decision to match my perfection to their new, mind-altering beverage. I only said yes and took their advance check. Just because I work with them doesn’t mean I dig them.” Drink companies always needed an ethereal beauty to market their herbal products. The narcotic drinks introduced blessed numbness to the starving, ready-to-riot human masses. No wonder Fabion’s extraordinary beauty proved in constant demand.

“Still, after what they did to Hestran’s family, I’d think you would refuse their offer. You know they destroyed the Naster dynasty.” Lanaro glared at Fabion in irritating superiority. “Or don’t you care about poor Hestran’s lingering despair?”