Not one of my better works, but oh well. It’s practice. The header is AI, and was a bear to get even this close to right.

One morning I found an elf sitting on the bust of Pallas that sat on my work desk. Where the raven that usually sat there had flown off to I couldn’t begin to care about.t.

Funny little fellow, this elf. Green shirt with stripes, pointed hat, red shoes that curled at the toes.

As with my raven I bade him good morning. He sobbed, then moaned, “What’s good about it?”

I strolled from the study door over to my writing desk. “Well for starters, it doesn’t look like I’m going to be cleaning raven poop.”

“I suppose you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“You like it?”

“No, but I wouldn’t, would I?”

I took out a fresh sheet of paper. After watching my quill dash out a few lines, the elf spoke again. “You really think you should start like that?”

“Of course. It sets the scene.”

“‘It was a dark and stormy night,'” the elf read, then snorted. “Everyone knows that’s a non-starter.”

“This is the first draft,” I countered. “I can change it later. All I want is a place to put my feet.”

“Uh huh. Judging by the quality of your prose, you’re going to have to change a lot.”

“So far you’ve only seen just this page. How can you fairly judge?”

“Nothing says you have to judge fairly. Plenty of judges judge unfairly, in fact.”

“Well I’m going to have to content myself with you judging me fairyly.”

“I suppose you think that was clever.”

“Why should I waste my good japes on you?”

“That,” the elf sighed, “is not an uncommon rebuke.”

I worked in peace for a while, filling one page, then another. The elf just sat atop Pallas’s head, frowning. Once or twice he opened his mouth as if to say something, then thought better of it.

Finally I asked a relevant question. “Where’s the raven?”

“Went south to a tropical island. Wanted to hook up with some chicks, make a nest for himself, that sort of thing.”

“Ah. He was looking a little down in the mouth. Hope this helps.”

“He’ll be sorry. Nothing good ever happens hanging out with female ravens.”

I let that pass. “So you’re here taking his place.”

“That’s the size of it, yeah.”

“How long?”

“Till he gets back.”

“Good.” I moved to the next page. “I’ve never been this productive with him around. Might even finish a novel.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“I assume you’re going to try and destroy my work, like he does.”

“It’s a part of the job.”

“Rip it up page by page into tiny shreds.”

“Wow. I feel a trilogy coming on.”

“Do you have to?”

“I must, I must.”

“I’m real little, you see? And I have to tear things up to a precise size.”

“So?”

“So I’ve got this pain in my back and paper, it always seems to cut me.”

“That is a shame.”

“I don’t suppose I can talk you into stopping, oh, about now?”

“At the height of my creativity? You must be joking.”

“Seeing what you’re writing… creativity ain’t the right word for it.”

“TWO trilogies. A trilogy of trilogies.”

The elf moaned, then asked, “You do this with the raven?”

“Oh no,” I said cheerfully. “He and I have an arraignment.”

“What sort of arraignment.”

“Oh, nothing much. I don’t write much, he gives me three wishes, that kind of thing.”

“Wishes.”

“Anything I want.”

The elf shook his head. “I can only do one big or three small.”

“Works for me.”

The elf perked up.

“Of course, this will have to be every day.”

The elf slumped down. “Of course it would.”

I sat down my quill. “Deal?”

He nodded.

“Alright,” I set my quill down with a small smile. The raven had been right. The elf would do nicely.