The Wand of Wonder

Bell’s Here, Morida’s 1242



This is a recording of everything that has happened to change my life dramatically when I turned 117. First off let me inform you that I am a dark elf, otherwise known as Drow. I’m not an ordinary dark elf, mind you. Nope, I’m a freak, an oddity, a total disappointment to my family. My clan, the entire village.

Understand that I’m a female jester. That is not the normal profession taken on by any dark elf. EVER! Dark elves are usually hunters, miners, specialty farmers, mages. Never ever a jester! For the most part Drow’s as an elf race are the most hated, feared and worst race to be an oddity. Here’s an example, dark elves are not known to have any sense of humor, no joking, no laughing, no fun.

In other words, boring. Highly aggressive, fierce and not tolerant to outsiders. Guess where that leaves me! Right, outcast.

This is what got the ball rolling, I don’t look like any of my family, parents, brothers nor sisters. Everyone is tall, ranging from 5’ 7” to 6’ 4” in height. They usually have skin color ranging from dark gray to pale white and either have black or white hair. They also have sharp angular features, long noses, jutted chins and dark black or dark blue eyes, sometimes red but those usually belong to the cave dwellers.

I on the other hand am very short, I barely reach 5’ 4”, I’m very curvy, big breasts and I’m very limber and agile. My features are softer, I have rounded chin, not square and jutted out from underneath my mouth. My nose is short and triangular, not at all sharp and long like my brother’s. I don’t have dark black eyes like my father either. Instead, they are a dark sapphire blue and none of my family have blue eyes. My uncle Lomax, a wood elf, does happen to have them.

Do you see my point? Out of the four siblings, two older, two younger, I’m the oddball. There is a rumor in the family that during a celebration and everyone involved blitzed, relations happened between my mother and uncle Lomax.

If the rumors are true, then I am half wood elf and would explain my wild sense of humor. I find everything funny. Mishaps, situations, I will find the humor in it. Unlike my family, everyone grumbles, and can’t stand my jokes or practical jokes. No giggles, no smiling. Except for toddling’s, but they find cruelty funny, not my fooling around.

Getting back to my lovely looks, I went to great lengths to make myself stand out, I changed my white hair to bright red by using a glamour spell. It really stands out with my pale skin. I also chose to glamour my lips red, and I painted two hearts on my cheeks. I have a thin black triangle painted on both my eyes. I’m an outcast, I might as well go to the extreme to stand out! I’m definitely unique!

As of late I’ve been playing practical jokes on my older sister Freylia. Freylia is highly volatile, she is also obsessed with her looks. She has long black hair that she will spend hours braiding it in intricate designs. Mostly requiring our mother to help her. And gods help anyone who interrupts that time. Her features are very sharp, I compare her to an eagle. Heavy hooded black eyes, sharp brows, cheek bones, and her nose does hook down with a very pointed chin. She has a tall lanky frame; she stands four inches above me and loves to look down her nose at me.

Lately I’ve been giving her grief by making her think she was gaining weight for the last two weeks. I’ve been shrinking her pants and skirts a quarter inch every day! It would have gone longer but she had busted into my room unexpectedly as I was casting a shrinking spell on her clothes.

“I knew it! You dirty little half-blood, making me think I was getting fat!” she screeched and grabbed her pants out of my hands.

I glanced up at her replying casually, “What? All I did was help you avoid mother’s cooking, which you hate anyway.”

“I-DO-NOT! I’ve never said, I hated mothers cooking, ever.” She screamed so much that she was wringing her pants tight. Any tighter and they would begin to tear.

“I could’ve sworn you fed half your barley bean cakes to Sisera the other night.” I replied then drawled, “Then the other night didn’t you slide her some sugar biscuits? After all our dear little sister is wee glutton and eats everything in front of her.”

“I never did that!” she cried, stamping her feet and her fists stretching the pants to almost the point of ripping them in half. “I-LOVE-MOTHERS-BEANCAKES!” RIP, “You will stay out of my room, Nirn!”

“Don’t you ever call me that name!” I screamed back at her, “I hate that name!” my dark blue eyes blazing at her.

Freylia grimaced maliciously then and that wasn’t anything to witness, her fangs showing sharp and dangerous.

“That is your given name, sister. Nirn!” She stepped before me and whispered harshly, her eyes glittering evilly. “You should be proud of such a name. Nirn, it is what gives us our powers, our strengths.”

I didn’t care and I pushed her away from me, “I told you to not call me that name ever again or I’ll do worse than shrink your stupid clothes!” I warned her and I swore I was going to cast a nasty spell on her if she said that name one more time.

I had refused my name when I turned 100, we can do that if we think our name doesn’t suit us. Most don’t. But I had to change it, I wanted a name that suited my personality, that when I said my name, it made me feel happy. So, I chose the name Bell’s much to my parents’ shame. Nirn was supposed to be some sort of family name that was passed down from great-great ancestors. Ppphhhttt! No, thanks.

My sister glared down at me, “What are you going to do Nirn, shrink my bed? Make my hair blue? You’re not the only one who knows magic, I just don’t abuse it like you do. Nirn!” she shouted my given name then slammed the door behind her.

I was incensed, I wanted to run after her and jump on her back to pull her very long ears off her head, instead I ran outside towards our marsh that was covered with spikey grasses, brambles and black cypress trees and big ugly iron oaks. I avoided the hot springs because they were not the kind that said, “Oh, let's take a nice soak and relax for a while.” Oh no! These were more of the let’s-boil-the-skin-off your bones type of springs.

Most of the people that lived here in Ironwood lived in huts surrounded by bramble bushes to keep the nasty creatures out. Most creatures were nocturnal and viscous to boot. Others chose to build elaborate tree houses set in the giant iron oaks. That way you didn’t have to grow ugly brambles around your house, and you had terrific views from the trees. Then there were the sub dwellers. The Drow that preferred to live deep inside the caves and strictly kept to mining the precious gems that were used in tools for the mages and seers.

We rarely saw them come to the surface. If they needed food or supplies that they couldn’t make, a vendor from the market would be called to make an appearance at the mouth of the cave and transactions would be made.

We rarely went to the caves. At least I did. My brother and sister frequently visited the sub-dwellers. Mostly because the High Drow preferred to live there, and it made my siblings feel important and privileged to know the upper crust. My father was on the council so you can imagine how my antics could tarnish his reputation as a council member. I didn’t pay much attention to the hierarchy of the village. It wasn’t of interest to me at all. Besides, with me being half-drow they wouldn’t give me the time of day.

I wanted to concentrate on becoming a jester. I needed to practice the arts of juggling, sleight-of-hand, jokes, quick witty remarks, stuff like that. I clambered up a huge iron oak that had a wide branch for me to recline comfortably and forget my sister’s insults and avoid my mother’s punishment which was sure to come as soon as I stepped back into the house.

I wanted to have a treehouse someday, maybe in this very tree. It had an excellent view of the marshes, and mountains to the North, more forest to the West, the village to the South and more mountains on the East side. It was far enough away from my parents’ house to where I would have plenty of privacy.

Looking down I noticed a pitch plant and a lovely revenge plot formed in my brain. Pitch knots were small annoying nodes that if I were to put them in her bed under the blanket, it would cause her to itch all night and she wouldn’t know why because these things cling like a flea to a bat. She would wake up to a horrible rash as well. I rubbed my hands together gleefully because I had some work to do! Tee-hee!

Oh, what glorious sounds that were coming from my sister’s room! She was practically in tears over the rash. I watched her run out of her room with the blanket trailing behind her, flapping down the hall as she went towards the front door. I went to her bedroom door and saw my mother collecting the rest of the bedding.

“What’s made my sister upset now?” I asked casually, resting against the door frame.

My mother put the large basket on her slim hip, her white hair flowing down her back. her sharp black eyes looking through me. “Seems to be a pitch problem. You wouldn’t know anything about it, Bells?”

“Me? Why would I know anything?” I said with a shrug. “She has made it clear that I stay out of her room, and I have obeyed her wishes.”

Her eyes narrowed and her frown deepened but she walked past me to take the bedding out to wash. “If that is true, then you had best get to your chores.

No slacking today, Bell’s.”

“I didn’t slack yesterday. I always take care of the Gorp’s after breakfast.” I stated, walking into the kitchen.

“Not according to Valin, the feed trough was empty when he passed it on his way to hunt.”

“He gets up at the crack of dawn, I wasn’t up yet, mother. Why does everyone have the need to snitch on me? Especially when there’s nothing to snitch about?”

My mother grimaced some more but then turned around to finally go outside. Finally leaving me in peace to get some sweet bean biscuits and some honey goat milk before actually doing my chores. I hated taking care of the gorps. They were so stupid and annoying. Gorps had long droopy necks and very long hanging goat like ears. They looked like donkeys but were shorter legged and dumb as hell. They were used to hauling heavy loads but mostly people spent their time trying to get these animals to move. They always looked like they were grazing but instead they were sleeping or just standing.

It was impossible to move them if they didn’t want to move. Nothing motivated them to do anything. You couldn’t bribe them with carrots or yams. They moved when they wanted if they wanted. Most of the time they didn’t. I hated them. They were so stupid!

I also had to take care of the chickens, goats, and then check for the snarl rat traps. Snarl rats were nasty rodents that came to steal the chickens. I usually found two to three snarl rats and then had the pleasure of bashing their heads in. We couldn’t allow them to live. I made the mistake of trying to set them loose outside of the marsh area and got the beating of my young life.

My father didn’t suffer mistakes. I never did that again. My father was the one who doled out the physical punishments. My brother was whipped badly when he was younger for leaving the goat pin open. We lost all the goats that night and had to buy new ones. My father tied him to the post out back and whipped him bloody. Believe me, I never wanted that to happen to me.

I might have tried causing trouble to my older siblings, but I didn’t do anything to warrant a whipping. My mother usually just grounded me to my room. Which was fine, it got boring after a while but at least my skin didn’t have mean scars on my backside.

Sisera and Valnvaren my younger brother, were throwing white oatmeal at each other as I went into the kitchen. “I’ll dump the entire pot on your heads if you don’t stop it.” I warned them going to the pantry cupboard for a cup.

Sisera stuck her tongue out at me and Valnvaren kicked the chair making Sisera fall onto the floor. Before long they were both squabbling and rolling around the floor. Ugh, toddling’s were a pain, but I loved them both and just let them hash it out as I grabbed my biscuits and drank my milk. I would let mother handle those two mites. I wasn’t about to get bit by both of them. Their needle teeth were sharp.

I stepped outside and almost made it to the gorps corral before Freylia came tearing up the pathway with murder in her eyes.

“You! You half-breed shit, I know it was you that put pitch nodes in my bed.” She pushed me hard, and it took some effort to stand my ground.

“I did nothing of the sort! Why do you always blame me for your misgivings? There are four other siblings that could have done it.” I yelled back.

“Valin doesn’t play horrible tricks, he’s a man. And Sisera and Valnveran are too young to do something so underhanded! That leaves you, and you’re always doing something to make my life hell!”

“You make your life hell on your own, you're so damn uptight, every little thing sets you off! And I wouldn’t waste my time doing that to your bed.” “Liar!” she screamed and pushed me again.

I pushed her back my anger risen; I wasn’t going to stand for her pushing me again. She growled and her long fingers with long nails went to grab my throat, I flipped backwards kicking her in the chin as I went. She tried to grab me again and sidestepped her.

“I hate you!” she screamed and swiped towards my cheek with her nails.

“I hate you more! You’re a pathetic fighter.” I taunted and danced to the side, then kicked her in the ass.

She yelped and turned to try to swipe at me again, “I can fight just fine.” She lunged at me, and I hopped out of the way just in time for her to land in a pile of gorp shit. Freylia began to scream and slapped at the shit on her front. I walked on the other side of the corral laughing at her covered in gorp shit.

“I hate you! I hate you!” she screamed and then ran off crying and screaming about having gorp shit on her.

Oh, I had such a great laugh while I fed and watered the very animals that made my sister smell wonderful. I was feeding the chickens when my father walked up, his expression stern “You wouldn’t know how Freylia was covered in gorp feces would you?”

I threw the last of the seeds to the chickens before turning around to face my father, “She ran at me and I stepped aside, I can’t help it that she fell into the pile of shit on her own.”

My father stood silent for a moment. His dark eyebrows furrowed, making him even more fierce. He kept his long black hair clipped with a leather thong. His high cheekbones with his long angular face made him look more like a gargoyle. I always wondered if horns would sprout out of his head one day.

I always found him striking to look at, he had thin lips above a pointed chin. Everything about his features were angular. His black eyes seemed to see right through me, and I never lied to him. He picked up on those too quickly. And the punishment was severe. I really tried to avoid his punishments. “Care to tell me what has angered her towards you in the first place?”

“She’s angry that I exist, mostly.” I started.

“Bell’s quit stalling. What happened.” He said, his hands on his hips.

“She accused me of putting pitch nodes in her bed and when I told her it wasn’t me, she attacked me out here. I’m too quick for her to grab and choke, that’s what she was trying to do, father. Practically chokes the life out of me. When she missed, she landed in the pile of gorp shit.”

“How do you presume that these foul nodes got in her bed?” he asked, his eyes bored into mine.

“Maybe they were on her clothes, I don’t know.” I said, trying to be convincing. Shit, if I fidgeted in any way, I was a goner.

He looked at me with his eyes slit and then grunted, “She’s convinced that you’re the one that did this deed. I am not convinced that you did. I will talk to her; you both need to get along in this house. I’m tired of these petty differences. I suggest you keep a wide berth from her room. I want no more misunderstandings; do I make myself clear.”

“Yes, father.” I said looking down at my shoes. Thanking the gods that he had bought my story.

“Finish up with the animals, then I want you at your studies.” He turned and left me with the chickens.

Whew that was close! I really don’t lie to him but in this case, I had to do it. I wasn’t going to have her get away with attacking me over stupid pitch nodes. I never understood why she hated me so much. Granted drow families weren’t always peaches and cream with one another, as far as affections go but still it would have been nice to be liked a little bit.

I finished my chores and then went back to the house. I didn’t like studying the history of the drows and the sub-terrain drows. It was dull, it was ancient history that I didn’t care to know about. Give me spell books any day, I’ll read that stuff up. Mother would have parchments drawn up of lineages and I had to memorize them. I also had to learn the language of the sub-dwellers. I don’t know why; I rarely went to the caves.

I wanted to learn juggling, the art of throwing daggers. That was fun to learn. But she wouldn’t let me, saying it was a pathetic waste of time.

I looked around the study area, three bookshelves filled with tomes, scrolls and books. Comfortable chairs that had black and white stripes or triangles on them. Sconces hung on the walls to make enough light to read these many books. I sat at a table made out of the spruce trees that grew among the iron oaks. My gaze kept going to the window that faced down towards the village. I could make out the towers that stood at the entrance gate.

“Bells! What years did the Yelzorwyn clan rule?” my mother shouted.

I jumped slightly and tried to remember what year, “714.”

She hit the table with her rod, “No! That is incorrect, try again.”

Sisera giggled, “I knows it.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” I looked towards her half amused.

“Uh-huh, its sexth-fidy-won.” She raspberried me.

“651?” I tussled her hair. “I say its 751.”

Mother frowned down at both of us, “Not even close the both of you. The year was 672. Why can’t you get that? I want you to read this chapter over and you better know the answers tomorrow.” She said, then began clearing the material off the table.

Sisera and Valnvaren ran out of the room, glad to be going outside. I started to do the same until she called me back.

“Bells.”

“What is it, mother?”

“Why must you vex your sister so much?” She put the books on the shelves. “Not this again, mother, how many times do I have to defend myself over her?”

“It would be more peaceful if you two wouldn’t be at each other’s throats every day.”

“I can’t help it that she has a permanent bad attitude when she wakes up. I just look her way and she start’s in on me.”

“I highly doubt that she starts it with you. If you would stop harassing her, maybe life wouldn’t be so hard on you.”

“And if your nose wasn’t up her butt, life would be easy.” I mumbled.

“What was that?”

“If she had her own hut, life would be easy.” I said more clearly.

She looked down at me, tssking, “Why must you cover up your face with this garish make up? You’re a beautiful elf when you’re not covered in this filth.”

“I like this make up, it’s who I want to be, why can’t you be happy that I’m a jester. I want to entertain others. I don’t need to study these histories, it’s not what I’m about.” “Where did you even get this jester idea in the first place? One time visit from Lomax, and he wasn’t made up garishly. He dressed normally for a wood elf and his stupid jokes. Don’t tell me by telling you riddles and jokes that’s what brought this clown thing on.”

“He made me laugh, he was fun to be around. Why can’t you accept that I got his humor, obviously there’s a part of him in me. I don’t look like you or father. Except for the white hair, everything else points to the wood elf side.”

Her expression changed to dangerously thunderous. She hated it when I was honest about my wood elf heritage. She was still in denial after all these decades that she had slept with Uncle Lomax.

“I told you, to not ever bring that up. I realize that you are not pure drow, but you don’t need to discuss it. You live in our village not his. You are my daughter, even if you share another’s blood line, you will act drow in this house. I will not have a daughter make a mockery of this family.”

“That’s not fair! I’m not mocking anyone, I just want to be me, and I like playing jokes on others, I want to have fun in life. I can’t help that Freylia is a bitch!”

Mother backhanded me then, “Don’t you ever say that about your sister! Or anyone else for that matter. Get to your room and stay there for the rest of the night.”

I ran down the hall and slammed my bedroom door. I was so upset. She would never understand my thinking, my way of living. If I was such a disappointment, why didn’t she have me live with Uncle Lomax? Wouldn’t that have made more sense? I didn’t even know where his village was located. Nobody ever told us. We weren’t allowed to leave the outer borders of Ironwood.

I was punished more than my younger siblings over the slightest thing. I opened my window, tempted to jump out of it and run to my tree. But then I would get a longer punishment and I just couldn't have that. Tomorrow I would go to my tree and see about practicing juggling with the pear-berries that grew out that way. A girl had to practice, right?

For now, I went through some spell scrolls that I kept in my trunk. I grabbed the one that had minor illusion written across it. This one would come in handy if I wanted to create an illusion of myself when I was in a different area. I just had to memorize it correctly. One word out of place could have dangerous results.

Freylia always claims that our given names are what draws the power for magic. You know what I say to that? TThhhpppttt! My magic is great! I’ve spent so many years repairing my little sister’s toys, I’m a master at mending. I can make fairy lights easily. It’s the harder spells that take time to remember and cast with ease. I know at least six good spells that make life easier. I haven’t practiced anything dangerous. I can’t afford to buy those spells. And obviously my family doesn’t want to teach them to me.

That would have been the easy way. The spells that are kept in the house are things that are mundane, handy at best. Nothing destructive. My father knows those spells and refuses to divulge them to us. Freylia and I would have killed each other by now if we knew them. That’s probably a good thing.

I would like to set her hair on fire. That would be a hoot to watch her run around bald! Instead, I think I’ll shrink her shoes, I could still do that without notice. Maybe.