A Christmas flight

“Damn!!” Alphonse swore under his breath.

One hundred meters ahead the Gnomes crested the rise Alphie was scouting. Alphonse “Alphie” Acornshield quickly scrambled to his waiting fox. Alphie had the dubious luxury of being a scout in the specialist core assigned to the third battalion, seventh division, of His Most Illustrious Elfin Army. Normally that luxury was far from dubious…Being a “specialist,” as they liked to call themselves meant good food, fine drink, and feems, the finest feems in all of farie.

As his fox sped through the dense foliage Alphie thought back to the previous evening’s staff meeting….

Laughter rang throughout the tent as Alphie entered.

“Those pitiful gnomes will never learn will they?” Shouted a drunken red faced elf…his pointed ears even redder then his face, and the buttons of his uniform straining against his prodigious girth…”We will trounce them handily!” The ultimate commander of the Unified Elfin Army’s deep and commanding voice was at odds with his comic appearance.

“At most they will send a few battalions of those summer scum from the west! Every year it is the same thing on the front…we form up the day before Christmas, they throw a few thousand Scummer gnomes at us, we stomp a muddhole in um, and then we party Christmas day…this year will be no different!” the officer in charge of the specialists stated scornfully. His appearance couldn’t have been more at odds with the Ultimate Commander’s if they had tried. Tall and trim he cut a fine image for a young officer. His pristine uniform well fitted and crisp, all his medals lined up smartly. Where the Ultimate commander’s face was bright red and bulbous the Specialist officer’s was angular and tan. Colonel Oakenbrand was a fine officer.

“Scout Acornshield, come here lad,” colonel Oakenbrand snapped sharply, “go to the northwest end of the front and sit for the day; you have earned a rest…don’t want to let the feems down tomorrow…and we can say we covered all our bases”

Those words echoed in his memory as the sound from the present shook him to his bones.

“Thrum, Thrum,Thrum

We march to the beat

Of our drums

We’ll take their meat

And then we’ll eat

From their

Kidneys and livers

And Lungs…”

The chant thundered across the valley as tens of thousands of Winter Gnomes crested the northern rise, effectively flanking the elfish Army. Alphie flailed his fox for more speed, with very little hope of being able to prevent the massacre about to be visited upon his fellows.

“And their kidneys

And livers

And lungs!”

Merry Christmas friends and family! This Short fiction piece was written in response to a prompt By Ben Ditty over at Nice Old Spice  , although Ben was nicer to his characters then I :-)

Chris McQueeney    12/24/12    2:22 P.M.