“A SouthWind-Elves Tale”

An Essay presented on the Ninth of April, 2007,

to the Chicago Literary Club

by L.F. Barry Barrington

N.B.> The elfin source of this essay has demanded that the following remarks preface the reading… {This work is a pretended component of ‘Fentoy Santori’s current and expanding anthology, “The Blue Guidebook for SouthWind Elves and Some People of Kansas”’.} Thank You. We can now proceed. <

We found them: Four elves. There they were, the four of them, sleeping by moonlight in Kansas, lying along the west bank of Schmoots Creek like a quartet of slightly oversized leprechauns. We demanded ID’s, in harmony with policies of the Current White House Occupant, and they told us their names were Mavis, and Neil, and Digby and Missuz Marple. The one who called himself Digby claimed that they had served many patrons over in Oz. “Got a bushelful of satisfieds over yonder, there in Oz – we do, we do,” he said.

But, Why had they come to Kansas? Well, Now, Kansas is, first of all, a place much like Oz, and is home to the

SouthWind people and their gold. Next, Winds flow across Kansas fiercely strong in every season, and in great heat from the South/Southwest in Summer. Some winds travel wildly from the earth upward, swirling cactus blooms, sunflower petals and gold dust from wheat and corn plants into the savage sky west of Topeka.

And, as many of you know, Kansas has hundreds of fields of sunflowers. However, not everyone knows that the sunflowers of Kansas produce the gold dust for yellow-brick roads. “An’, gol-dust: izzat so?” inquired Neil: Neil of the Crooked Path. “Oh,Yiss oh Yiss!” replied Missuz Marple; “a shower uh golden sunflower petals falls every day – Summer and Winter – on Kansas.” “And, what about th’ gold you claim to see?” Neil asked, somewhat impolitely.

“Weye-il,” Missuz Marple softly answered, “Well,Petals of sunflowers from Kansas – th’ sunflower State – them sunflower petals deposits pure gold, wherever theys fall. That’s why so many yellow-brick roads run along the edges of Kansas’ wheat fields and pasture lands, from Fredonia to Satanta, an’ from th’ Smoky Hill to th’ banks of the Marais des/du Cygnes,” she said.

Some Kansas roadways follow creeks, sloughs or prairie draws -- places where elves, prairie fairies, cabiri and – of course! — leprechauns lie in the shade of those tall sunflowers, thistles and fence posts. They arrange to be as close as possible to their friends AND to the gold.

Missuz Marple reminded her clan, ‘Naow, try,’ she said, ‘try to be near water, and in wind, even in snowy weather.’ Kansas does provide limited quantities of water for its creeks and ponds, and it is well known among the local elves that the State generates an abundance of winds – winds a-plenty there. Kansas also offers another bonus: Sandhills, enclosing outcroppings of gold nuggets, of course.

Take it from yer Old Uncle Elby, that’s meself: Sandhills can offer considerable aid to elves, including cool shading. All-in-all, Kansas is quite a proper nesting ground for elves and elfin companions.

On that hot July day – the day after we discovered them along Schmoots Creek – Digby Dugan and his fellow elves called a meeting. If you and I had convened it, we might have called it a council meeting, since such meetings are popular among elves.

Those Jayhawker elves! They hold regularly scheduled meetings for all the elves and related beings in the universe. In fact, the World Governing Council of Elves meets one year outside Dublin, in Ireland along the Dodder, near its junction (as Digby might say) ‘where it joins wit’ (ahh) -- with the Liffey. Th’ next year, ‘twas, they convene in Kansas, near Medicine Lodge, right there beside Medicine Creek, they do; they did.’

Mavis said, “We were going to Medicine Lodge that year, we were, we were. All of us elves were holding a conference there.”

Scolding them, Neil grumbled, “We’ve been all over Kansas from Coldwater Creek to Pawnee Rock, lookin fer ye.”

However, they were not all elves, as two small, wee ones stepped forward, showing their wee-tiny badges, one showing ‘Hello, my name is Fardoragh,’ and the second, with lovely golden braids showed herself as such, her badge stating ‘Greetings! Oi am Dancing Rosaleen, Rosaleen Brophy, Oi am, and like my mate here, Oi’m a leprechaun, Ya know: One utha little pee-pull.”

Confidingly, she pulled at Altheia Brosnahan’s skirt and suggested, “Join me in a jarfulla ale?? make that six jars!” Came cheers from five sides and six pairs of extended hands, of course, of course.

So Altheia, who was one of our Chosen Gang, Altheia welcomed – nay! hugged -- the six times sixty pack of Nut Brown Ale that materialized from the surrounding vacuum envelope, and then she attempted to justify her eager reaction with “I know why!” to the gathering, exulting, “I know why they came to Kansas at that time: To hold a party to plan the next party!”

“Yiss,” Missuz Marple added, “Serious business is discussed: Who will host the next party, Who will feed our frens – the sandhill cranes, the river whales, an’ – an’ concern – em-em-empathy for others’ loneliness…

‘Have ya ever been lonely, Have ya everr been blue,

‘Have ya everr walked barefoot, no slipper or shoe?’”

“Well?” and Missuz Marple giggled briefly at her own attempt at humor, as Mavis prepared to continue the narrative about party planning, saying, “Next year, we are to be the host group. We’ll be welcomin’ elves from aroun’ th’ wurl, ya know. And, an’ our very own Missuz Marple will chair that party, won’t ya, Dearie?”

Missuz Marple smiled shyly, and said, “Why, Yiss,

tank yez. First, however, we must attend to our deeds, our ay-genda. Right, Digby?”

Digby nodded and sipped from the tiny cup of tea he held, and murmured, “As yeh know, Oi am Digby Dugan, an elf of Ireland. Accordingly, Oi am quite familiar wit’ all the rules and by-laws that elves must obey.”

He looked around the area, cleared his throat twice and pushed his little hat back on his head. Then he continued, “Of course, Oi want to be most helpful an’ to avoid bein t’ought a ding-aling or looked upon as a strange dork, doin’ no harm. Now, Oi’m not convinced we should pairforrm sairtin deeds jus’ because someone calls… Yes,” he went on, then began to sip from another wee glass. “Oh, Yiss, we must do no harm an’ must do much good…”

Suddenly, an external noise occurred -- seeming to come from that nearby oak tree, and he observed, “Well-Well, Oi do believe we hear a call for some assistance, right now. Be back soon,” Digby called, burping into Missuz Marple’s startled face as he departed.

The other three elves rushed together, peering closely at a video monitor. “Oh, I see what they are watching,” said Altheia. “The elfin folk are tracking Digby as he goes soaring out of sight.” But he was back with them in less than three minutes.

“That was fun!” he said.

“Fun?” inquired Neil, “What were you doing with Fiona over there in Oklahoma, in Tallequah?”

“Ah-h, Well, Ah-h,” stammered Digby, continuing with “Oh, yuh followed my movement, readin’ the veloscreen, eh?” He showed no surprize, seeming to indicate that he expected to be tracked.

Neil nodded, as did Mavis and Missuz Marple, heeding Digby’s narrative that informed them of the events, somewhat as follows: “As you saw, th’ strong south wind was pulling at that colorful tent, which is Fiona’s. Oi merely quieted th’ wind, so Fiona could stake it down securely. Of course, of course, Fiona didna realize she was getting help.”

It is obvious to us, naturally, that the other elves did realize what Digby had done. They kept on chattering about their deeds, just in case some listening children tried to eavesdrop on them. But, the elves, well, we should recognize that they receive messages from one another at all times, in various ways – at all times. Such was the case with Fiona, who had been a friend of Altheia’s for ages – well, for at least two months.

On the evening of the day when Digby had anchored Fiona’s tent, he stood abruptly up from the supper table, pushed his plate of mush away, squared his shoulders and called out to Mavis, “Altheia needs our help.” Mavis was already pushing her chair away from the table, and agreed. They got underway and ran to the orchard, where their instinct had led them, and they docked beside the troubled Altheia who appeared to be quite worried. “Oi am truly worried about my fren’ Sweeney; can’t locate him and haven’t seen him since ‘e went off with Lloyd George.”

“Didja hear? : ‘Lloyd George loved old Sweeney; ‘Sweeney loved Lloyd George;

‘Lloyd George loved old Sweeney,

‘And stoked old Sweeney’s forge.’

And Mavis asked ‘Who was Lloyd George?’ And Digby quickly added his question: ‘What connection did Lloyd George really have, what connection to Sweeney? or to your mother, at all at-all?’

This comic interlude brought them no closer to helping Altheia, of course, so Digby, once again, pressed for that action, saying, “Altheia really needs our help, and Oi think she is trying to rescue her kitten.”

Sure enough, she was hoping to get her kitten down from a high branch of that overhanging Winesap apple tree. Rather suddenly, she was exchanging glances for smiles and trading smiles for Thank-Yous and receiving her kitten into her hands without understanding how it got down. By the time she strolled out of the shaded orchard into less lighted twilight, Altheia’s elfin helpers, Digby and Mavis, were fast asleep on a bed of leaves. That night, they all slept along the bank of Schmoots Creek, just before it flows into the Ninnescah before it flows into the Arkansas, before it flows into the Mississippi, before it empties into the Great Ocean.

On the following morning, Missuz Marple saw two strangers lurking around the area, and remarked that she wondered if they weren’t the two from a tinker family that seemed to forever haunt them. “In’t that duo Caley and Fardoragh?” she asked. No one answered, but an eerie feeling filtered into the camp zone. “Let’s ponder on Fardoragh and Caley, but Oi don’t know what else to do,” ventured the Marple, “Oi suggest that we gather our thoughts on a day off, OK?”

Digby whooped in delight, and Mavis cheered, “That’s a verra verra good suggestion, and we all deserve it, we do, we do. Right, Neil?”

Neil grunted, sounding resentful, as Digby looked at Missuz Marple, who gave him her hand as he and she took off toward the yellow-brick flyway. After a short glide, they landed on a dune in Sandhills State Park, where they made a poverty picnic, creating their own magic shade.

Sitting a-top that dune, they could look out over the entire world, from Cheyenne Bottoms to Kishwaukee Creek, and on to Prairie Crossing. As they looked out, something caught Missuz M.’s eye. “Wot’s that glinty, shiny stuff over there?” she asked, and Digby responded by “Hey, Oi wonder,” and together, they jumped up, running over and shouting, “It’s gold, ‘tis, (h)it be a nugget, and here’s a whole cluster of ‘em, Nuggets uh’ Gold, they izz!”

All of the elves and leprechauns came running, hurrying back to the river bank, where Mavis was shoveling her little bottom off to dig a place for sequestering the treasure in the soft sand. Heavy - that gold is, Little Digby was managing to carry and toss the nuggets into that hiding place.

“Let’s not be tellin’ anyone just now,” he said in a soft whisper. Missuz Marple nodded, but Neil noticed the secretive actions underway and let them know, “Oi’m bothered by yer ways, so if yez are after workin on yer news, You’d best be sharing it. So?!”

“News? What do yeh mean?” asked Digby and Missuz Marple in Elfin unison. Continuing, Missuz Marple said, “Just a wee joke between Digby ‘n’ me, a secret, to tell th’ trut’, and, trut’ izz, it’s not th’ joke we’ll likely tell you and Mavis later… But waddayez tink, Digg? -- mayhaps we could tell ‘em now, theys probably already know it.”

Digby mused aloud: ‘Oi can remember and recall ‘tha oooold ways of communicatin’ the news, when th’ listeners decorated th’ landscape of radio sets wi’ just our imaginations.’ And now, the news being withheld from the Loyals seemed to relate to some of the stored supplies.

Little Digby raised a hand to call for silence and said “OK: Th’ secret izz: we’ve put our unendin’, infinite food supply over there in the cool sand, right next tuh where yuh hid that gold treasure, Yuh did, we did, we did, Yuh did.”

That did not seem to pacify any of the group from either party, but did end the curiosity quest, it seemed.

Bedtime, it was, and Mavis glanced toward her fellow elves, saying, “Ah-h-uhh: Before yez fall asleep, yuh should know that we’re due to feed a troop uh hikers comin’ tru’ tomorrah mornin’.”

“Would that be after we go to singin our morning song?” asked Digby.

“Oi wunt wurry about singin nary song,” said Mavis. “Worry about how we’re goin’ tuh handle th’ ‘lillibuleros, th’ donnybrooks and th’ catcalls, spec’lly th’ lillibuleros.”

“Oi can handle the lillibuleros,” said Neil, “but we’ll need some assist to manage a full-scale donnybrook, we will, we will, fer sure.”

“Verneith, if you are after puttin’ some great distance between us”, said Fardoragh, “You’d best take this button,” handing her a sunflower medallion, with a PUSH ME message in the center. “Don’t press the magic center unless you really need help” he said. “Okay”, answered Verneith, “if you and Caley will be on stand-by for emergencies, which I feel may arise.”

“First,” said Mavis, “let’s warm up by humming a shortie song… So, I’ll introduce an old song,

First by humming, (Let me Call You Sweetheart):

I’ll call You Macushla, ‘Cause I like your ways,

I’ll call You Macushla, joy of all my days.

Sweeney loves to dither,

Sweeney loves to rest;

If he did not dither,

Could he pass the test?

“Wot test be Yeee referring’ to?” asked Digby, sounding angry. “Oi want no testing, and will not tolerate it!”

So Altheia bellowed, “If you are going to misbehave so, we will take some measures to forestall serious outcomes. Hear me!”

Finally, I jumped up, on hearing Altheia bellow, and I said, “You, each one of you, for the required test, must give us a specimen.”

“Specimen? Like wot?” Digby demanded.

I coolly replied, “Like ‘Piss in your cup’.”

Digby looked at me as if incredulous, and turned toward the other elves for some sign of supportive reassurance. Seeing no help, and gathering his anger, he paused, took a deep breath and shot back, “Spit in yer hat!”

His claque of fellow elves and leprechauns applauded, as if to become an army of partisans. However, we in the Establishment could not tolerate such rebellion, and were battle-ready to resist. We said so.

I fully expected to deputize Altheia to voice our threat, but it was Altheia’s close buddy, Miss Verneith Dragomoschenko, our Enforcer, who gave the order. She called it out shouting, “You are no longer welcome here – Especially You, Digby, but not one of you, neither Elves, nor Leprechauns nor Cabiri: None of you may stay. Begone, now!”

Verneith stared at Digby as if to emphasize our ultimatum. And for those of you who don’t know Verneith, she is bigger than most of us, tutored in both caber toss and Sumo wrestling, and unafraid, as well, so I was not surprized by her ability to ostracize and intimidate those little creatures.

Those being ostracized stood, as if at attention, picked up their tiny horns and miniature drums, and began to dance – first going into jigs and Irish reels, then tangos, and finally the Lambada -- that part of terpsichorean pornography which barely passes the local Morals Code.

After a short exposure to that daringly comic interlude, we Loyalists were regaled by a few little ditty songs, typified by the take-off on “Have You Ever Been Lonely”, as

<Have ya ever loved rainbows,

Ever tangled with sand?

Did you ever love something

That gave no where to stand? >

Then, without making the first blow apparent, someone struck the first blow, and both sides were engaged in a battle royal, primarily a battle of words. “Sassenach!” shouted the Loyalist gang, and immediately we heard the cry, “Lillibulero!” yelled twice more: “Lillibulero! Lillibulero!”

And came more and more “Sassenach!” calls from our side. But the ferocity of the elves became most apparent when our Altheia taunted Digby with a slurred “Dirrrrrty Dog, You Dirty Dog, Begone,” she said. However, they seemed to be losing heart for further battle or hurling insults, and began to walk away from the confrontation. Our surge of bravado had begun to break their nasty, tricky, sly insurgency. We on our side began to braid a chain of golden sunflowers that was strictly defensive and in harmony with the Geneva Convention’s guidelines on partisan warfare. Why had it taken so long to develop this step toward pacification? and to make this progress without global warming, a stunning development!

With tearful aspect, Altheia turned to Verneith and said, “Perhaps you do not realize it, my Beloved Verneith Dragomoschenko, but I was growing enraptured with that handsome little hunk, Digby Dugan, and was even hoping for a collaboration with him and his clan, to maintain universal peace. That was not to be this time, and we will have to forego the matter temporarily, to be resumed when hopes have deeper roots. For now, it has to end, will end and has ended, as I believe the elves realize.”

Quickly aware, the elves clustered and made an echelon formation, preparing to leave. Then, be gone they were, without a further word.

We lumplander Loyalists stood and watched them – the Elfin clan – slowly disappear Northward toward Blue Rapids, in a puff of the South Wind.

The End

© 2007 L.F.B. Barrington