glanced over at the courier elf standing beside the counter. He wasn’t our usual delivery guy, and I didn’t recognize him. Tall, with auburn hair and green eyes. Bored, disdainful eyes. There was some kind of animal carrier thing sitting on the counter in front of him.
“Uh, yes?”
His name tag read “Hi, my name is Glorfindel. Ask me about our specials at the Gap of Rohan.”
My lips pursed. “That’s not really your name, is it? I mean, I know Tolkien is sort of the godfather of elves, but isn’t that a little over the top?”
He flushed, his hand jerking over the badge protectively. “Management makes us wear them. My real name is Alisair. You can call me Al.”
I grunted, understanding that particular predicament a little too well. “What is that?” I pointed a skeptical finger at the carrier, hearing a soft bleat come from inside.
“Sign here, please.” The elf ignored my question and handed me a parchment form.
“Oh, no,” I said firmly. “We don’t take livestock. It’s against store policy.” And mine. The last thing I needed was to be stuck taking care of vegetable lambs or barnacle geese or some other such nonsense. I damn near killed everythingI touched, anyway. The sad little garden out back was proof enough.
“Let me check the order.” He frowned, flipping through the stack of documents in his arms. I felt a momentary twinge of glee. For all that most OtherFolk look down on technology, I couldn’t help but feel superior for a moment. Give me an Excel spreadsheet any day of the week.
Ignoring the hag as she tapped her foot, I bent over to take a careful look inside the carrier.
“Is that what I think it is?”
He snorted. “I wouldn’t wager on anything that you might be thinking, but yes, that’s a miniature unicorn. Rather expensive species to be shipped and a very ornery fellow at that.”
I peered closer, meeting the tiny beast’s silvery blue eyes, losing myself in the delicate hooves and seashell horn, spiraled and sharp. Its face was a strange mix of goat and deer and something else, its tufted tail flicking like an irritated tiger’s against the side of the carrier. It wore a jeweled silver collar and what looked like a blue topaz shining from its throat. “It’s lovely,” I murmured, myriad little-girl dreams filling my voice with longing.
The hag curled her upper lip. “Unless you’re a virgin, girly, don’t get your hopes up.” The brownie in line behind her covered his mouth with a dark-skinned hand, and I rolled my eyes.
“I’ll keep that mind,” I retorted dryly.
“Indeed,” the courier agreed. “And ‘it’ is actually a ‘he,’ according to the invoice.”
I snapped my attention back to the pointy-eared prig. “That’s all well and good . . . Al . . . but we didn’t order him, so you’ll have to take him back.”
“I’ll have to check with my manager.” He pushed his hair back to tap the Bluetooth headset curled over his right ear.“Let me get the rest of the deliveries and you can sign off on that part.”
“Okay.” I moved the carrier away from the counter’s edge. “I’ll be waiting.” He disappeared into the crowd and back out the door. I eyed his headset bemusedly. Maybe I’d been wrong about the technology thing.
The hag cackled at me as I rang her up. With a last chuckle, she hunched away, clutching her purchase to her breast. The rest of the line moved briskly after that, as I marked down the purchases of the brownie and a scaled dragon man, two pale angels and something I could only recognize as a shambling mass of flesh. It smelled like a mix of a freshly made zombie and dried pig feces. My dinner roiled in protest as the scent slammed into my face. I swallowed hard to keep from gagging. The blob burbled at me, a stray tentacle dragging something slimy up to the register. I couldn’t even tell what it was in the mucusy mess trailing behind.
“On the house.” I forced a smile. That gray slug track it left
“Uh, yes?”
His name tag read “Hi, my name is Glorfindel. Ask me about our specials at the Gap of Rohan.”
My lips pursed. “That’s not really your name, is it? I mean, I know Tolkien is sort of the godfather of elves, but isn’t that a little over the top?”
He flushed, his hand jerking over the badge protectively. “Management makes us wear them. My real name is Alisair. You can call me Al.”
I grunted, understanding that particular predicament a little too well. “What is that?” I pointed a skeptical finger at the carrier, hearing a soft bleat come from inside.
“Sign here, please.” The elf ignored my question and handed me a parchment form.
“Oh, no,” I said firmly. “We don’t take livestock. It’s against store policy.” And mine. The last thing I needed was to be stuck taking care of vegetable lambs or barnacle geese or some other such nonsense. I damn near killed everythingI touched, anyway. The sad little garden out back was proof enough.
“Let me check the order.” He frowned, flipping through the stack of documents in his arms. I felt a momentary twinge of glee. For all that most OtherFolk look down on technology, I couldn’t help but feel superior for a moment. Give me an Excel spreadsheet any day of the week.
Ignoring the hag as she tapped her foot, I bent over to take a careful look inside the carrier.
“Is that what I think it is?”
He snorted. “I wouldn’t wager on anything that you might be thinking, but yes, that’s a miniature unicorn. Rather expensive species to be shipped and a very ornery fellow at that.”
I peered closer, meeting the tiny beast’s silvery blue eyes, losing myself in the delicate hooves and seashell horn, spiraled and sharp. Its face was a strange mix of goat and deer and something else, its tufted tail flicking like an irritated tiger’s against the side of the carrier. It wore a jeweled silver collar and what looked like a blue topaz shining from its throat. “It’s lovely,” I murmured, myriad little-girl dreams filling my voice with longing.
The hag curled her upper lip. “Unless you’re a virgin, girly, don’t get your hopes up.” The brownie in line behind her covered his mouth with a dark-skinned hand, and I rolled my eyes.
“I’ll keep that mind,” I retorted dryly.
“Indeed,” the courier agreed. “And ‘it’ is actually a ‘he,’ according to the invoice.”
I snapped my attention back to the pointy-eared prig. “That’s all well and good . . . Al . . . but we didn’t order him, so you’ll have to take him back.”
“I’ll have to check with my manager.” He pushed his hair back to tap the Bluetooth headset curled over his right ear.“Let me get the rest of the deliveries and you can sign off on that part.”
“Okay.” I moved the carrier away from the counter’s edge. “I’ll be waiting.” He disappeared into the crowd and back out the door. I eyed his headset bemusedly. Maybe I’d been wrong about the technology thing.
The hag cackled at me as I rang her up. With a last chuckle, she hunched away, clutching her purchase to her breast. The rest of the line moved briskly after that, as I marked down the purchases of the brownie and a scaled dragon man, two pale angels and something I could only recognize as a shambling mass of flesh. It smelled like a mix of a freshly made zombie and dried pig feces. My dinner roiled in protest as the scent slammed into my face. I swallowed hard to keep from gagging. The blob burbled at me, a stray tentacle dragging something slimy up to the register. I couldn’t even tell what it was in the mucusy mess trailing behind.
“On the house.” I forced a smile. That gray slug track it left
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