"What manner of fool is this lowfolk anyway?" (Patreon)

I blurted in exasperation.

"Beg pardon?" Jerry asked, glancing around apprehensively.  "Lord Randall?  Is that you?  Where are you?"

How interesting ... apparently he was able to hear me.

"It's hoverin' about and watchin' oi am," I exclaimed dramatically.  "Sure, and what class o' blatherskyte are ye, who thinks ye can summon and order elves about willy-nilly, as ye please?"

"I know your name," he protested.

"Only counts once, and ye have to've guessed it, which ye did not.  And it's what are ye doin' here, oi'm askin?"

"Ethel told me to come back because she talked you into a sweet deal for me," Jerry explained.  "Look, I'm willing to offer a full glass of milk and a cookie for each pair of shoes.  You won't find more generous terms anywhere."

I sighed.  Again with the shoes?  Where did these lowfolk get their absurd ideas?  And that Ethel .. I was going to have to watch her closely.  She moved fast, and was a thoroughly dangerous femme.

"Sure and oi'd be more amenable to yer request if ye stated it in the form of a limerick, me boyo," I suggested, in an attempt to stall for time.

There was absolutely no way I was going to play fair with this numbskull.  While he strained his brain composing a verse, I transmogrified myself into Relda Fauxfox and looked carefully around my scry-view of the stone circle.  Would I be able to Pook there from here?

"There once was an elf named Lord Randall," Jerry chanted awkwardly.  "Who tried to, um, burn both ends of the candle.  But he could not refuse / to whip up some shoes / 'cause that's a request he can handle!"

I pooked in behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.  He screeched in surprise and jumped a slight distance, turning around in midair.

"Who are you??" he asked when he landed and looked at me.

"Some call me Relda Fauxfox," I replied.  "Who are YOU, standing around reciting bad poetry in a loud voice and disturbing the tranquility of the forest?"

"My lady, I am Jerry Shoemaker of Tulgeyside, at your service," he said with a bow and a flourish of his hat.

"Well, you have good manners at least," I remarked.

"Oh, fair Fauxfox, tell me truly, are you too an elf?"

"Yes, but -"

"And do you know the secrets of Cobbling?"

"Look, I don't work for free," I stated emphatically.  "And I don't work for milk and cookies either.  You want something of value, you've got to trade something of value."

"One as lovely as yourself has but to name her desire," he schmoozed.

"I want more copies of the Chanson du Percy," I blurted.  "That book you had with you when you first came here.  Bring me .. oh .. five copies and then we'll talk."

"Why do you want five copies of the Chanson?"

"Do you want to ask pointless questions or do you want shoes?" I snapped.

He blinked at me a few times, then turned and strode resolutely off into the forest.

PREV- http://www.patreon.com/posts/23443841

NEXT- http://www.patreon.com/posts/23718791