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Family Matters
© 2022 by M. Mitch Marmel
Thumbnail art by
tegerio, color by 
Major Matt Mason
Part Twenty-six
Roland:
It was presuming much on the bond I have with my older brother, the King, but I was seriously doubting his sanity.
“Pardon me, brother,” I asked, “what did I just hear you say?”
Adler smiled at me. Surprisingly, he had invited me, his son Prince Gawain, and my nephew’s wife Princess Persephone to have breakfast with him. There had been a recent shipment of Elfhamian persimmon jam, and he was spreading some on a slice of toast as I asked the question.
“I said, brother, that I am considering accepting the Commodore’s invitation to visit her and see this ‘craft’ she spoke of.” Our ears flicked as a fork clattered against a plate, and my brother asked, “Yes, Gawain?”
“Father, I must protest,” my nephew said. “These are Lowfolk. They’re insects to us – “
“And they’re untrustworthy, because unlike Elves, they can lie,” Adler said. “I have heard all of your objections, my son.” He took a bite of his toast. When he had swallowed he said, “I have three reasons for wanting to go. Will you allow me to tell you them?”
“Of course, Father.” My nice-by-marriage reached over and laid a paw on his forearm. Persephone hadn’t said anything yet, but was listening closely.
My brother set his tea aside and touched a napkin to his lips. “First, I am very certain that had either the Commodore or the Colonel attempted to harm either of us, they would have died immediately. Not so, brother?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.
Elves Don’t Lie. “That is so, brother. I had archers camouflaged and hidden.”
“So it demonstrates a great deal of trust on their part, two of them against – how many?”
“Seventy,” I replied.
The King nodded, did a double-take and frowned, and finally shrugged and raised two fingers. No, not like that. “Second, we are Elves, the High Folk of the Shining Land, and we should not be seen as being afraid to face whatever may come.”
I nodded. Gawain looked pensive, and Persephone looked curious.
“Third.” He paused to have a bite of toast and another sip of his tea. “I am old, Gawain, and there are times I can feel the Lady’s Resplendent Tailfur – “
“Not for many more years, Father,” my nephew protested.
“That is in the Lady’s paws, Gawain. But this is a new thing – think on it. Something new and interesting has appeared in Faerie, and I should like to see something new and interesting. Especially when that something offers an invitation.”
There was a short silence as the King addressed himself to his breakfast, and his ears perked as my niece-by-marriage spoke up. “I’d like to go as well.”
“Persephone!” Gawain said.
His wife turned to him. “My love, you told me that this – ‘Commodore,’ I think you said? – was a skunk-femme.”
“Yes,” he replied in a wary tone.
“If she’s a skunk, like we are, she’s obviously a noble or some other important personage,” the Princess said. “Why else would there be a femme in command?”
That gave all of us pause. The Crown Princess has a very practical turn of mind, paired with her youthful eagerness. I expect it’s one of the reasons the commons like her so much.
And I would suppose that it is an example of the difference between these people and Elves. Femmes in positions of command or authority. The notion is quite preposterous, when one takes into account Artemisiaford, the Duchess of Daisies, and Princess Anastasia’s final days as ruler of Licksburg.
[Note appended to manuscript: “Grr . . . “]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Please stay calm, [mate-precious].”]
Gawain took a breath. “If you are dead set on going, Father,” and I could see him mentally bracing himself, “I will insist on going with you, to protect you.”
“And I as well.”
My brother smiled at me and my nephew. “We can hardly all go. There would be no one left to run the Empire if something goes badly. But perhaps something can be arranged. Brother?”
“Yes?”
“Scry the Master,” my royal brother said, ignoring the suddenly pained expression on my royal nephew’s face, “and see if some arrangement can be made.”
“Yes, my brother.”
“The Embracing Sea,” Gawain muttered, shuddering.
I paused. Yes, that was a concern. Elves do not prosper there, beyond sight of land; it was one of the reasons that the Imperial and Royal Navy stayed close to shore or kept to the rivers and canals.
My brother looked thoughtful, and nodded. “Well urged, my son. There should be an emphasis on safety, Roland.”
“Of course, my brother.”
***
Winterbough:
Once again, Brother Cellini and I were doing a little road work, taking a jog up to and around the [Star-Mirror]. It was agreeable to both of us, since it wasn’t just a good source of exercise, but the exertion would help me clear my mind.
[Note appended to manuscript: “That would take all of one second. Like pouring a cup of tea out on the ground.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Are you feeling all right, wolfess? Your jokes are getting old; are you possibly going senile?”]
[Note appended to manuscript: (growling)]
Anyway, the run and the light sparring the turtle and I did helped clear my mind, because the time was getting close for the second of the three Challenges. Depending on whichever of the candidates for Sixth’s paw won, I needed to be ready to start the Tiebreaker Challenge quickly.
We had slowed to a walk for a moment on the way up to the lake, when my ears swiveled at the sound of a mel’s voice.
"Oh the chef has pointy teeth, dear
And he's wielding a giant knife
If you bother that small ermine
He might just take your life!"
The source of the singing was the same ermine, Ernest, that I had seen at the Leaping Trout. Anastasia had hired him on as our cook, allowing the elderly couple who’d accompanied her from Licksburg to retire and giving [Little Toy] someone to help her. He was moving about through the high grass, dressed nondescriptly and – carrying a basket?
He also appeared to be slightly less inclined to murther anyone.
Brother Cellini and I walked over to see what he was doing, and as we drew near his head popped up. He was chewing something, a few leaves hanging out of his mouth. The basket contained more cut greens as he swallowed and said, “Good day, Master.”
“Good day, er – “
“Please, Sir, call me Chef Ernest. I am in Service now, as I’m supposed to be.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You certainly do appear less anthropocidal.”
“I was not in Service, Sir,” he said, “and the stress made me somewhat testy.”
I had nearly been decapitated by a thrown butcher knife at the Leaping Trout and recalled Missy relating how he had menaced a trio of furs much larger than he was. If that was his idea of ‘testy,’ I’d hate to see him enraged. “What are you doing way out here?”
“Exploring the bounty that this place has to offer,” the ermine said enthusiastically. “All the fresh wild greens and native herbs! They give me ideas for dishes.”
“That’s fine,” I said, feeling a little pride on behalf of the Vale, “but we have winter coming.”
“I know quite a few preservation cantrips,” Ernest said.
I nodded as he rambled on about the “potentialities” to be found here. I’d have to make sure Anastasia agreed with me before I gave him access to the Greenhouse.
He said something, and my ears swiveled. “Excuse me,” I said, “did you just say ‘game?’”
“Well, yes, Master. Certain of your household eat meat, whether fish or other animals. This lake here – “ and he gestured at the [Star-Mirror] “ – offers a wide variety of fish – and the frogs! I have a great recipe for frog’s legs . . . “ and he started rambling again.
From the corner of my eye I saw Brother Cellini take a step backward, his head withdrawing into his shell until only his eyes were showing. Chef Ernest didn’t notice, nor did he notice the ground shake momentarily.
He did start to notice hot, humid breath behind him. The ermine swatted behind him, and turned as he said petulantly, "Stop steaming up my tail! What do you want to . . . do . . . wrinkle . . . it?" This last word came out as a barely audible squeak.
Elves Don’t Lie, I couldn’t blame him. One of Windimere’s eyes was larger than the ermine was tall.
The dragon gave a tiny snort, which blew Ernest’s headfur straight back.
And kept there, secured by her mucus. Just a little dab did him.
He whimpered "Mother" - and after that a white, puffy cloud of smoke that was ermine shaped suddenly appeared.
When it dissipated, the chef was nowhere to be found.
“Guess he still got some learnin’ to do ‘bout Elfhame,” Brother Cellini said. He bowed politely to Windy before turning and resuming his road work.
I walked up to the dragon and scratched some of the tender spots around her nostrils and muzzle while she made almost purring noises. {“Jrfgrefybr?”}
I looked up at her, ears canted forward to let her know that I was listening. I don’t understand Draconic as well as Stella or Sixth do, but through a combination of her spoken word and Elf-mind, I was able to follow along as she said, {“V unir urneq gung n ahzore bs lbhe Ubhfrubyq ner certanag.”}
So, she’d heard that Ooo-er, Tessie and Missy were with child.
Windy reared back on her haunches and started tapping her claws together, the scroll-tube that contained the third Challenge still dangling. For all her size and implicit menace, she looked diffident and uncertain as she said, {“Qb - qb lbh guvax gung . . . znlor . . . "} All the while, she was eyeing me very meaningfully.
Significantly, one might say.
I gaped briefly, the implication sinking in hard. Windy wanted to mate.
With me.
By the Lady . . .
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
© 2022 by M. Mitch Marmel
Thumbnail art by
tegerio, color by 
Major Matt MasonPart Twenty-six
Roland:
It was presuming much on the bond I have with my older brother, the King, but I was seriously doubting his sanity.
“Pardon me, brother,” I asked, “what did I just hear you say?”
Adler smiled at me. Surprisingly, he had invited me, his son Prince Gawain, and my nephew’s wife Princess Persephone to have breakfast with him. There had been a recent shipment of Elfhamian persimmon jam, and he was spreading some on a slice of toast as I asked the question.
“I said, brother, that I am considering accepting the Commodore’s invitation to visit her and see this ‘craft’ she spoke of.” Our ears flicked as a fork clattered against a plate, and my brother asked, “Yes, Gawain?”
“Father, I must protest,” my nephew said. “These are Lowfolk. They’re insects to us – “
“And they’re untrustworthy, because unlike Elves, they can lie,” Adler said. “I have heard all of your objections, my son.” He took a bite of his toast. When he had swallowed he said, “I have three reasons for wanting to go. Will you allow me to tell you them?”
“Of course, Father.” My nice-by-marriage reached over and laid a paw on his forearm. Persephone hadn’t said anything yet, but was listening closely.
My brother set his tea aside and touched a napkin to his lips. “First, I am very certain that had either the Commodore or the Colonel attempted to harm either of us, they would have died immediately. Not so, brother?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.
Elves Don’t Lie. “That is so, brother. I had archers camouflaged and hidden.”
“So it demonstrates a great deal of trust on their part, two of them against – how many?”
“Seventy,” I replied.
The King nodded, did a double-take and frowned, and finally shrugged and raised two fingers. No, not like that. “Second, we are Elves, the High Folk of the Shining Land, and we should not be seen as being afraid to face whatever may come.”
I nodded. Gawain looked pensive, and Persephone looked curious.
“Third.” He paused to have a bite of toast and another sip of his tea. “I am old, Gawain, and there are times I can feel the Lady’s Resplendent Tailfur – “
“Not for many more years, Father,” my nephew protested.
“That is in the Lady’s paws, Gawain. But this is a new thing – think on it. Something new and interesting has appeared in Faerie, and I should like to see something new and interesting. Especially when that something offers an invitation.”
There was a short silence as the King addressed himself to his breakfast, and his ears perked as my niece-by-marriage spoke up. “I’d like to go as well.”
“Persephone!” Gawain said.
His wife turned to him. “My love, you told me that this – ‘Commodore,’ I think you said? – was a skunk-femme.”
“Yes,” he replied in a wary tone.
“If she’s a skunk, like we are, she’s obviously a noble or some other important personage,” the Princess said. “Why else would there be a femme in command?”
That gave all of us pause. The Crown Princess has a very practical turn of mind, paired with her youthful eagerness. I expect it’s one of the reasons the commons like her so much.
And I would suppose that it is an example of the difference between these people and Elves. Femmes in positions of command or authority. The notion is quite preposterous, when one takes into account Artemisiaford, the Duchess of Daisies, and Princess Anastasia’s final days as ruler of Licksburg.
[Note appended to manuscript: “Grr . . . “]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Please stay calm, [mate-precious].”]
Gawain took a breath. “If you are dead set on going, Father,” and I could see him mentally bracing himself, “I will insist on going with you, to protect you.”
“And I as well.”
My brother smiled at me and my nephew. “We can hardly all go. There would be no one left to run the Empire if something goes badly. But perhaps something can be arranged. Brother?”
“Yes?”
“Scry the Master,” my royal brother said, ignoring the suddenly pained expression on my royal nephew’s face, “and see if some arrangement can be made.”
“Yes, my brother.”
“The Embracing Sea,” Gawain muttered, shuddering.
I paused. Yes, that was a concern. Elves do not prosper there, beyond sight of land; it was one of the reasons that the Imperial and Royal Navy stayed close to shore or kept to the rivers and canals.
My brother looked thoughtful, and nodded. “Well urged, my son. There should be an emphasis on safety, Roland.”
“Of course, my brother.”
***
Winterbough:
Once again, Brother Cellini and I were doing a little road work, taking a jog up to and around the [Star-Mirror]. It was agreeable to both of us, since it wasn’t just a good source of exercise, but the exertion would help me clear my mind.
[Note appended to manuscript: “That would take all of one second. Like pouring a cup of tea out on the ground.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Are you feeling all right, wolfess? Your jokes are getting old; are you possibly going senile?”]
[Note appended to manuscript: (growling)]
Anyway, the run and the light sparring the turtle and I did helped clear my mind, because the time was getting close for the second of the three Challenges. Depending on whichever of the candidates for Sixth’s paw won, I needed to be ready to start the Tiebreaker Challenge quickly.
We had slowed to a walk for a moment on the way up to the lake, when my ears swiveled at the sound of a mel’s voice.
"Oh the chef has pointy teeth, dear
And he's wielding a giant knife
If you bother that small ermine
He might just take your life!"
The source of the singing was the same ermine, Ernest, that I had seen at the Leaping Trout. Anastasia had hired him on as our cook, allowing the elderly couple who’d accompanied her from Licksburg to retire and giving [Little Toy] someone to help her. He was moving about through the high grass, dressed nondescriptly and – carrying a basket?
He also appeared to be slightly less inclined to murther anyone.
Brother Cellini and I walked over to see what he was doing, and as we drew near his head popped up. He was chewing something, a few leaves hanging out of his mouth. The basket contained more cut greens as he swallowed and said, “Good day, Master.”
“Good day, er – “
“Please, Sir, call me Chef Ernest. I am in Service now, as I’m supposed to be.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You certainly do appear less anthropocidal.”
“I was not in Service, Sir,” he said, “and the stress made me somewhat testy.”
I had nearly been decapitated by a thrown butcher knife at the Leaping Trout and recalled Missy relating how he had menaced a trio of furs much larger than he was. If that was his idea of ‘testy,’ I’d hate to see him enraged. “What are you doing way out here?”
“Exploring the bounty that this place has to offer,” the ermine said enthusiastically. “All the fresh wild greens and native herbs! They give me ideas for dishes.”
“That’s fine,” I said, feeling a little pride on behalf of the Vale, “but we have winter coming.”
“I know quite a few preservation cantrips,” Ernest said.
I nodded as he rambled on about the “potentialities” to be found here. I’d have to make sure Anastasia agreed with me before I gave him access to the Greenhouse.
He said something, and my ears swiveled. “Excuse me,” I said, “did you just say ‘game?’”
“Well, yes, Master. Certain of your household eat meat, whether fish or other animals. This lake here – “ and he gestured at the [Star-Mirror] “ – offers a wide variety of fish – and the frogs! I have a great recipe for frog’s legs . . . “ and he started rambling again.
From the corner of my eye I saw Brother Cellini take a step backward, his head withdrawing into his shell until only his eyes were showing. Chef Ernest didn’t notice, nor did he notice the ground shake momentarily.
He did start to notice hot, humid breath behind him. The ermine swatted behind him, and turned as he said petulantly, "Stop steaming up my tail! What do you want to . . . do . . . wrinkle . . . it?" This last word came out as a barely audible squeak.
Elves Don’t Lie, I couldn’t blame him. One of Windimere’s eyes was larger than the ermine was tall.
The dragon gave a tiny snort, which blew Ernest’s headfur straight back.
And kept there, secured by her mucus. Just a little dab did him.
He whimpered "Mother" - and after that a white, puffy cloud of smoke that was ermine shaped suddenly appeared.
When it dissipated, the chef was nowhere to be found.
“Guess he still got some learnin’ to do ‘bout Elfhame,” Brother Cellini said. He bowed politely to Windy before turning and resuming his road work.
I walked up to the dragon and scratched some of the tender spots around her nostrils and muzzle while she made almost purring noises. {“Jrfgrefybr?”}
I looked up at her, ears canted forward to let her know that I was listening. I don’t understand Draconic as well as Stella or Sixth do, but through a combination of her spoken word and Elf-mind, I was able to follow along as she said, {“V unir urneq gung n ahzore bs lbhe Ubhfrubyq ner certanag.”}
So, she’d heard that Ooo-er, Tessie and Missy were with child.
Windy reared back on her haunches and started tapping her claws together, the scroll-tube that contained the third Challenge still dangling. For all her size and implicit menace, she looked diffident and uncertain as she said, {“Qb - qb lbh guvax gung . . . znlor . . . "} All the while, she was eyeing me very meaningfully.
Significantly, one might say.
I gaped briefly, the implication sinking in hard. Windy wanted to mate.
With me.
By the Lady . . .
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Skunk
Size 1280 x 1012px
File Size 207.8 kB
Listed in Folders
my nephew’s wife Princess Persephone to have breakfast with him. There had been a recent shipment of Elfhamian persimmon jam, and he was spreading some on a slice of toast
Just don't talk to her about persimmons, on the other hand.
“If she’s a skunk, like we are, she’s obviously a noble or some other important personage,” the Princess said.
Which just goes to show those Lowfolk not only Do lie, but also be outright demonic. Or oni-rashii, at least.
“I will insist on going with you, to protect you.” “And I as well.”
And my axe.
Once again, Brother Cellini and I were doing a little road work, taking a jog up to and around the <Star-Mirror>.
Once out of every four times or so, we'd catch
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RW6U_wQOGtM
a strange sight along with equally-strange and high-pitched music.
my ears swiveled at the sound of a mel’s voice.
A moon-headed monstrosity / Selling you chee~seburgers...
"(...) I have a great recipe for frog’s legs . . . “ and he started rambling
about "Why are there so many songs about rainbows?"
{“Jrfgrefybr?”}
Lupa lupa?
https://ffe.hendersongdi.com/l/lufenian-ff1.html
Lupa gamhi dho: https://rot13.com/
Femmes in positions of command or authority.
Serious question this time: Was Grace of Eastness on her way to becoming queen regnant, or much more likely to be married off elsewhere?
Just don't talk to her about persimmons, on the other hand.
“If she’s a skunk, like we are, she’s obviously a noble or some other important personage,” the Princess said.
Which just goes to show those Lowfolk not only Do lie, but also be outright demonic. Or oni-rashii, at least.
“I will insist on going with you, to protect you.” “And I as well.”
And my axe.
Once again, Brother Cellini and I were doing a little road work, taking a jog up to and around the <Star-Mirror>.
Once out of every four times or so, we'd catch
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RW6U_wQOGtM
a strange sight along with equally-strange and high-pitched music.
my ears swiveled at the sound of a mel’s voice.
A moon-headed monstrosity / Selling you chee~seburgers...
"(...) I have a great recipe for frog’s legs . . . “ and he started rambling
about "Why are there so many songs about rainbows?"
{“Jrfgrefybr?”}
Lupa lupa?
https://ffe.hendersongdi.com/l/lufenian-ff1.html
Lupa gamhi dho: https://rot13.com/
Femmes in positions of command or authority.
Serious question this time: Was Grace of Eastness on her way to becoming queen regnant, or much more likely to be married off elsewhere?
Grace was the Sovereign Princess of Eastness. There had been a series of unexpected deaths in the royal family that put her on the throne at a young age, perhaps before she was truly trained. She did end up lucky in her choice of consort, and had an heir, but the Ospreys put paid to that.
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