A thief sneaks up behind Wraithvine while they are meditating, and, with a scissor, cuts some of the very long hair and tries to flee with it. -- Anon Guest
People think that Elves are insensate when they are resting. It's easy to believe. After all, they seem unresponsive to any sudden disruption in their environment. The truth that very few know is that Elven meditation is a means of connecting with the world around them. They are very aware of everything. They only respond to that which is important or dangerous.
It's also widely known that Elven hair is valued by the inch.
The thief who called themself Lent knew without a doubt that the pale pink locks of the Elf had to be worth a fortune. Enough to live a better life, for certain. They crept out of habit, not from any perceived need, battered old scissors at the ready.
One thin braid. One swift cut. Lent could pay their hand for a fortune in Elven hair. The Elf had yards of it. Why should ze get bent about one tiny braid?
Lent separated the blades, and found one skinny braid that would be easy to reach.
"You must be desperate," said the Elf, scaring three colours of spit out of Lent. "The punishment for thievery is severe in this realm." Ze settled back down to the mat and took the shears out of Lent's unresisting fingers.
"However," continued the Elf, "if I gift it to you, then there is no crime." The shears moved, biting the braids off at hir shoulder. Snap, snap, snap, and the floor was pooled about with pale pink coils. "What do you plan to do with your fortune?"
Shrug. "Eat? Buy a place? Have stuff?"
"It will be easy to gain everything you want with all of this. You will find it hollow, after a time." The coils of braids wound up into neat bundles, care of Elven hands. "You will find friendships insincere, love lacking, and the world around grasping and greedy."
"Call myself Lent," said Lent, "'cause of how everyone's given me up. Don't mind hollow if'n folks want me for a change."
"Might I suggest," said the Elf, "Using some of your fortune to help others like you? The ones people give up on? It may be more gratifying than simply having everything."
Lent considered their hands, and how they could keep them come the dawn. "You teach, don'cha?"
"I do teach," acknowledged the Elf. "My name is Wraithvine, and I am here to help."
[Image by Samuel Perez on Unsplash]
If you like my stories, please Check out my blog and Follow me. Or share them with your friends!
Send me a prompt [47 remaining prompts!]
