My Arrogant One shuffled out of my office, head down, shoulders slumped. I followed, trying to hurry him along. “The last time I saw Dragon, she was in the conference room, napping in front of her illusory fireplace. She’s probably still there. Let’s go see if she’ll help us.”
My Arrogant One gave a half-hearted nod, along with a bit of a shrug, and continued shuffling down the hallway away from my office. But as we approached the end of the hall, we both stopped dead in our tracks.
I stared. “Where’s the conference room?”
The door that led to the conference room was gone. Beyond the spot where it should have been, my husband, Miles, and several of my characters were decorating the family room . . . a much larger family room than I remembered.
“What was that, honey? Did you say something?” My husband looked up from arranging his Christmas village.
“Where is the conference room?” I gaped at the family room, full of festive holiday decorations.
“Oh, Dragon moved it, Mistress.” My Gypsy placed a figure into the village. “Is this where you wanted the stack of snowmen, Master Miles?”
“Ah, no, put them a little further down, by the skating pond.” Miles pointed. “There, that’s good.”
“Dragon . . . moved . . . the conference room?” I shook my head and raked my hand through my hair.
“Yeah, she wanted to give us more room for my Christmas village and the other holiday decorations.” My husband seemed remarkably nonchalant about this as he took the ceramic houses my Gypsy and my Young Hero held out and positioned them at the far end of the display.
I watched Miles and the others bustle about, arranging various holiday decorations.
Finally, I asked, “Well, where did she move it?”
“Move what, honey?” Miles didn’t look up as he answered me.
“The conference room! Where did Dragon move the conference room?” My voice was starting to stray into the register usually reserved for opera divas . . . or my Arrogant One when my Old Dwarf called him elfie.
Miles paused and stroked his chin. “You know, I don’t think she said.”
“We would help you look, but right now, Master Miles has us assisting him with the decorations.” My Foreman slid past me with a sleigh filled with evergreen boughs. “Where did you want this, Master Miles?”
“Up there, please.” My husband pointed to a spot atop a tall cabinet.
My Foreman tried it there, frowned, then moved it to the back of the couch. “With respect, I think it would look better here, sir. It is a bit cluttered atop the cabinet.”
I gaped at them all, going about their tasks as if nothing was amiss. “Where . . . is . . . the . . . conference . . . room?”
“You might try looking upstairs, Mistress.” Cleric handed a wreath to Sorceress, who placed it on the door to the storage closet.
“Yes.” Sorceress nodded “Maybe at the far end of the walk-in closet in your master bedchamber.”
“What?” I felt as if they were all speaking a foreign language.
My Old Dwarf and my Bounty Hunter lugged some large, plastic bins from the storage closet. My Bounty Hunter added his container to the pile and grabbed my Arrogant One by the sleeve of his cloak. “We could use your help, too.”
“Ah, no, I need the elf with me right now.” I frowned. “Come on, let’s check upstairs.”
The elf and I trudged up the stairs and down the hallway to the master bedroom suite. “Wait here.” I did not want any of my characters traipsing around my bedroom. Who was I kidding? My characters seemed to traipse wherever they wanted, as evidenced by the fact they all seemed to know about the walk-in closet. Funny, I don’t remember ever giving them a tour.
While my Arrogant One waited impatiently in the hallway, I opened the bedroom door, crossed the room, and entered the walk-in closet. Sure enough, something was undeniably different. I stared, trying to figure it out. Oh, yeah – it was organized!
Other than that astonishing discovery, I also realized the wall at the far end of the closet had changed drastically. It appeared rather insubstantial, like a glittering haze. I shuddered.
After staring at it for many long minutes, I squared my shoulders and cautiously approached the shimmering barrier at the back of the closet. “Dragon? Dragon, are you there?”
No answer.
I hesitated before warily reaching out toward the shimmering veil. It parted at my touch, revealing the scene beyond. There was the conference room, all right, with Dragon still fast asleep in front of her fireplace.
As I debated the wisdom of crossing the threshold and waking Dragon, my Arrogant One pushed in behind me, throwing me off-balance and cart-wheeling us both across the room. We landed unceremoniously in a heap atop the sleeping reptile.
Dragon leaped to her feet, throwing the elf and I onto the floor. My Arrogant One almost landed in the fireplace, while I rolled away from the hearth and bumped into the chess table.
“What is the meaning of this? Dragon glared at the interruption to her daily siesta.
“Sorry.” I struggled to my feet and brushed myself off. I turned to the elf, who had just done the same. “I thought I told you to wait in the hallway.”
“You were taking too long.” He glared at me. “Well, will the beast help or not?”
“I don’t know if Dragon will help. I haven’t even had the chance to talk to her yet.”
“Then I will ask her.” The elf turned scornfully toward Dragon. “Beast . . .”
I put my hand over his mouth. “I think I should do the talking.”
Dragon folded her reptilian arms over her scaly chest and glared at us through narrowed eyes. Wisps of dark smoke drifted from her nostrils, and she tapped one clawed foot impatiently. “Someone had best take the opportunity to speak with me, before I decide to have flambé for lunch.”
I sighed and related the story. https://margecutter.wordpress.com/2018/12/16/what-is-the-source-of-the-problem/
Dragon settled herself on the floor in front of her fireplace while she listened. She rolled onto her belly and rearranged her bulk into a sphinx-like position, with her small arms curled like a cat’s under her chest, and her wings folded neatly out of the way. She watched us through slitted eyes. When I completed my tale, Dragon rose and paced the length of the room and back several times.
“Well?” My Arrogant One’s voice was sharp and demanding.
Dragon rounded on him. “So, elf, you cannot control your magic with any regularity, and you know not why? All you can tell us is the problem commenced shortly after we arrived back from the land to which we had been transported by the wish listeners?”
My Arrogant One nodded. “That is correct.”
“So, what do you expect me to do about it?” Her question was delivered in a puff of acrid smoke.
The elf drew himself up, rocked back on his heels, and grasped his cloak with both hands. “I expect you to help, of course, vile beast!”
I put my hand over the elf’s mouth again and held him fast as he squirmed and struggled. “What my Arrogant One means is he would be extremely grateful for any assistance you could render. Since you’re the one with the greatest power and ability, we thought it possible for you to determine if the source of his malady does, indeed, lie in the other world. If it does, you’d be the only one who could contact anyone from that world and remedy the situation.”
Dragon snorted. “Too much trouble. I have a better idea. The elf can just stop practicing magic altogether. He was never that good, so it would be no great loss to the world of magic.”
The huge beast turned and curled up in front of her illusory fireplace once more. As she started snoring loudly, I finally took my hand from in front of my Arrogant One’s mouth and released him. The elf just crumpled to the floor, his body racked with silent sobs.
Will we be able to convince Dragon to help, or has the Arrogant One annoyed her once too often? Be sure to come back to see what happens. We’ll leave the porch light on for you.
(My husband and I, along with my characters, are taking a few weeks off for the holidays. We’ll be back on January 13. Happy Holidays!)
“Wow! I can’t believe it’s already the middle of November!” I could feel the beginnings of a real panic attack.
“Are you making calendars for them again this year?” Cleric had been listening and now joined the conversation. “The ones featuring your wonderful photographs of the birds we have seen this past year?”
“Well, I don’t know how wonderful my photos are, but, yeah, that’s the plan. Unfortunately, I haven’t had much time to work on them. And I didn’t take nearly as many photos this year as I have in past years, so it will be harder to find photos I can use.”
“Why do you use so many?” My Gypsy, who had been listening quietly from his chair by the window, came over and joined the conversation. “Why not just one per month?”
After spending more than a few minutes clearing off some chairs and moving an assortment of files and papers from my desk, the three of us sat down facing the computer monitor.
My Gypsy started to reach for my computer mouse. “How do we begin?”
“It seems I was late doing the calendar last year, too. So, we can’t use any photos taken before November 28. The next date I took any photos of birds was December 29.” I opened the file, and the monitor was immediately filled with thumbnails of the photos.
“No problem. I’ll bring them up one at a time and we can see them.” I clicked on the first photo, making the single image fill the screen.
We passed over several others, including an image of a White-breasted Nuthatch taking a peanut from a bowl. “That’s a good one.” My Gypsy argued. “It’s very crisp.”
My Gypsy was glad when I accepted one of his favorites, an American Tree Sparrow sitting on the deck railing. “It is a good, clear image. You can see all the identifying marks – the rusty cap and line through the eye, the dark spot on his chest, and the two-colored beak. Also, the expression on his face makes it look like he was posing for the camera. I really like this image!”
Cleric smiled when I also accepted her suggestion, the Blue Jay who was sitting in a tree. “I like the varying shades of blue, violet, gray, and black on the Jay. And, even though I enjoy the photos of the birds on the deck and in the feeders, I love to see them in the trees. I also like the way this bird is looking straight at the camera. He almost looks amused at having his picture taken.”
I included one of my favorites, too. “I love this image of the Dark-eyed Junco. They’re known as snow birds and arrive here shortly before the cold weather sets in for the season, so this one is perfect for one of the winter months of the calendar. And this image is interesting with the bird holding one leg up underneath him to keep it warm. You can also see the safflower seed he’s eating.”
As I opened another folder and started going through the photos, my Gypsy pointed to one he remembered. “I was with you that day. It was early spring at the Arboretum. Most of the Canada Geese were still sitting on their nests, but two pairs already had goslings following them around. They were extremely protective of their young, but Cleric finally convinced one pair to let you take this picture of their smallest baby.”
I nodded, remembering. “This will be a good photo for the calendar, along with that late-hatched Mallard duckling we saw at Shakopee Memorial Park in July.” It took me a few moments to find that image. “Were you with us that day?”
As we looked through some photos from Purgatory Creek Park, Cleric pointed to an image of a Bald Eagle on the roof of an office building adjacent the park. “Are you going to use that one?”
“Okay, we’ll include them, and this close-up I got of the American Robin. But there are still some from our walks I want to use. I want to include a few of the Eastern Bluebirds and two of the Common Yellowthroat.”
I checked the images we had chosen and the spreadsheet where I listed the photos according to the month for which they would be used. “We still have a few months to fill. I think I’ll include that image of the Wild Turkey I took at Westwood Hills Nature Center. It would be perfect for November.”
“Are you all sure you haven’t done anything?”
My Gypsy glanced over at my Foreman’s pumpkin, shook his head, and chuckled. “That does not look very scary.” The lad examined the pumpkin he was carving. His tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth as he concentrated. He took his silver stiletto and carefully carved a few more slivers from the jack-o-lantern’s nose. He cocked his head, giving his work a critical appraisal. He nodded in satisfaction. “This is how a Halloween pumpkin should look. As for your question, Mistress, I believe the Foreman is correct. Our answers will not change, no matter how often you ask.”
The dwarf paused and squished his eyebrows together as he looked at the large, orange rock he was painting. After a few minutes of deliberation, he carefully brushed some black paint on the rock, creating a reasonable facsimile of a jack-o-lantern . . . if a jack-o-lantern was supposed to look like a sick rabbit. Looking up at me, he continued the discussion. “Dinna ye be sayin’ thet tha people wot be skulkin’ about tha neighbor’s yard be tha same difference as our king’s guard? Thet they don na be jest tha law enforcers o yer little town here, they be tha law enforcers o yer whole country?”
Dragon had shrunk to the size of a Chihuahua to work on her pumpkin, which she was decorating by magic. She did not look up at my question, but black smoke poured from her nostrils. “Do you really think me so foolish as to allow the inhabitants of your world to see me unless I fully intended them to do so?”
I sighed and continued pacing around, as my characters continued to work on their projects. I stopped next to my Young Hero, who was trying to make his jack-o-lantern even scarier than the one his best friend, my Gypsy, was making. “What about you? Have you been riding your pony off the property?”
I walked over to Cleric, who was creating patterns to sew ghost and witch pillows. “I don’t suppose you can think of anything you may have done? Maybe when you and Sorceress were out collecting botanicals for your spells?”
Sorceress put another dab of paint on her black cat pumpkin, then looked over at me. She agreed with Cleric, and her tone, like my Foreman’s, was edged with annoyance at the questions. “Even if someone had seen us gathering plants and flowers, I do not think they would have paid us any attention. We did not go on private property or take anything from the areas you have warned us about – state or county parks where gathering specimens is illegal.”
“Don’t remind me.” I scowled and looked at the illusory figures he was conjuring for Halloween. “You haven’t created any illusions that may have been seen by any of our neighbors, have you?”
My Bounty Hunter looked up from the scarecrow he was stuffing with straw. The corners of his mouth twitched. “I can vouch for that. We have been working on the shed roof. Even at other times, the elf is usually with me, and I have seen him do nothing that would attract the attention of the neighbors or the gendarmes.”
Cleric nodded. “I remember Mistress and her spouse buying lots of candy to give to visitors. I remember children dressed in costumes, some beautiful, some scary, some strange, coming to the door for these sweet treats. I remember a few decorations being placed around the front door. But I have never really understood the meaning of the day.”
“This holiday has its roots in the ancient celebration called Samhain, marking the end of summer and harvest, and the beginning of winter. 
It was believed that on that night, the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead became blurred, and the ghosts of the dead returned to earth. Some believed it to be the time when magic was at its strongest, with witches, demons, and other creatures able to openly walk the earth. I think I read somewhere that the practice of wearing costumes – which people still do today on Halloween – came from the ancient custom of people disguising themselves so that they would not be recognized and harmed by the creatures that walked the earth. Of course, Halloween has changed greatly over the centuries, as other religions and cultures tried to change it and adapt it to their beliefs and customs.”
As I was admiring my Old Dwarf’s latest effort, Miles entered the conference room.
“Nothing, really, I guess. It’s just that those cops . . . detectives . . . investigators . . . agents . . . whatever they all are . . . are still lurking all around the neighborhood. There were two people in a county sheriff’s car at the end of our street, and they actually followed me to the supermarket!”
“I could take care of it for you.” Dragon’s voice dripped with sweetness, and the expression on her face was pure innocence.
“So, what do you think we should do for the holiday?”
“What is this about an outing?” Cleric entered the room and caught part of the conversation. “Are we going on another nature trek to take pictures, Mistress?” Cleric’s eyes sparkled with anticipation, and she fidgeted with the cord on her robe.
Now Dragon entered the room and the conversation. “Nature photography? Food? What is transpiring?”
My Arrogant One, who had been right behind Dragon, grimaced and stuck his nose in the air. He commented in a petulant whine, “I thought you said it was a holiday. I suppose you are proposing a stayiday, like our last vacation was a staycation?”
“Wait a minute! We haven’t even decided where we should go, or on which day of the three-day weekend.” I looked at Miles. “What do you think, honey?”
Everyone pitched in and helped my husband prepare the food. After a huge lunch, I suggested we go exploring. “I know Cleric wanted to assist with some nature photography, so I brought my camera. You’re all welcome to join us if you wish, to check out the resident wildlife.”
“I’m sorry, honey.” Miles looked at me apologetically. “With the medications I take, you know I can’t tolerate the sunlight. I must stay here in the shade. The rest of you go enjoy yourselves. I’ll just clean up everything here and then take a nap under these trees.”
Neither Dragon nor her companion saw the small figure on the side of the trail. It was only slightly smaller than the squirrels that were scampering through the tall grass. It had a white beard and long, rabbit-like ears. A sly grin spread across its stony face as it listened to the conversation between my Old Dwarf and Dragon.
We continued along the trail, enjoying the warm weather, the scenery, and the camaraderie. We had walked a considerable distance when I spotted a path off to the right, marked by a sign proclaiming it a Secret Trail. “Hmmm. I thought I knew every trail in this park, but I don’t ever remember seeing that one before.”
“Mistress?”
My Arrogant One did not wait for me to answer Cleric. “And why is Christmas such a big deal, anyway? We have been subjected to this banal music for more than a month now!” As usual, if something did not revolve around my Arrogant One, he felt it a waste of time.
Sorceress chimed in. “It has been a long time. Since we are all gathered together now, why do you not explain to us again what Christmas is all about?”
I looked around at my other characters, who all nodded and moved closer to listen. My Gypsy turned off the radio so everyone could hear. “Yes, just what is this Christmas that you make such a fuss about?”
Now it happened that, while they were there, the time came for her to have her child, and she gave birth to a son, her first-born. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger because there was no room for them in the living-space. In the countryside close by there were shepherds out in the fields keeping guard over their sheep during the watches of the night. An angel of the Lord stood over them and the glory of the Lord shone round them. They were terrified, but the angel said, ‘Do not be afraid. Look, I bring you news of great joy, a joy to be shared by all people. Today in the town of David a Saviour has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. And here is a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.’ And all at once with the angel there was a great throng of the hosts of heaven, praising God with the words: Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace for those he favours.
But then my Old Dwarf, on his third pint of eggnog, started to sing. My Foreman winced and covered his ears. “I think that’s our cue that it’s high time the festivities came to an end for the evening.”
Miles and I were sitting at the kitchen table, along with my characters. The mood was somber. Most of us were just pushing our breakfast around on our plates. The only ones exhibiting a hearty appetite were my Arrogant One and my Bounty Hunter. The rest of us were having a hard time choking anything down.
Miles put down his fork and sighed. “It’s just not the same without her here. I never thought I’d miss her threatening to char my shoes with my feet still in them, or the way she ripped up the carpeting when she was writhing around, scratching her back.”
“What happened to you?” “Are you okay?” “Where have you been?” “Where is the Great Wyrm?” “Welcome home!” Everyone was talking at once, and Dragon appeared quite overwhelmed. Her eyes opened wide, she backed away from us, and dark smoke spewed from her snout.
Immediately my Old Dwarf pushed his way through the crowd, placing himself between us and Dragon. He stood facing the group with his feet apart, brandishing his war axe, protecting his friend. “Do na any o ye be havin’ the sense ye be born wit? The big beastie been through a great ordeal! She be needin’ ta be restin’ so’s she kin be recuperatin’! Ye kin all be seein’ ’er later. Now ye best be skedaddlin’!”
I turned toward Dragon, who was still cringing next to her illusory fireplace. Her eyes were still wide and the tip of her tail was twitching. I spoke to her in my most soothing tone. “Dragon? It is good to see you again, my friend.”
“Well, in the course of your investigation, you were aided by another Dragon, the Great Wyrm. Although the others are unaware of her origins, I can tell you – she is from the world about which I wrote in the manuscripts . . . the manuscripts from which you and the others have fallen.”
“Yes, that world. Although you confirmed that that world is not your world, not really. Your world exists only in the pages of my manuscripts.”
Several days later, Dragon still had not sorted out her memories of recent events, but there would be time for that later. Now, we were gathered in the kitchen for dinner. Miles placed the last serving platter on the groaning sideboard, and took his place at the table. I looked around at everyone seated there, and cleared my throat.
“Nay, lass. I be startin’.” My Old Dwarf rose and looked around the table before continuing. “This Thanksgiving, I be most grateful for the safe return o our friend, Dragon.”
“Mind if I join you? This looks like a good place to hide from all the fireworks.”
Miles’ hand went up again. “Then I went back to the living room and found Dragon scratching her back on the carpet again. When I asked her to stop, she threatened to scorch my shoes with me still in them!”
“Do you really think I’m prickly?”
“You didn’t?” Dragon feigned surprise. “I suppose I can be very stealthy when it serves my purpose.” The huge beast winked at Miles, then began to shrink. She entered the room and gracefully picked her way through my office, wrinkling her nose in disdain at the untidy conditions. As she approached Miles, she began to transform. By the time she reached his chair, she had shape-shifted into a very hefty porcupine. “Prickly, too.” She giggled.
“You don’t let me have any fun.” The ersatz porcupine shapeshifted into her familiar guise of an elf maiden. She conjured a chair and sat, facing Miles and me. She immediately turned serious.
Before we could discuss the matter further, my Old Dwarf came hotfooting it into the room. “Eh, be we havin’ a midday meal taday or no? I be starved!”
