The Elf and the Magic Pencil

© 2010 Ian G Hobson

As bright sunshine and birdsong woke Ripley, he yawned and stretched, and then quickly pushed back his bed covers as he remembered that today was his birthday and that his father had promised him a very special present. 'I wonder what it could be?' he said to himself.

Now Ripley, as you may recall from earlier stories, was a young elf and, as soon as he and his parents had finished breakfast, his father gave him his very special present: a magic pencil.

'But it doesn't look magic,' said Ripley, testing the pencil by writing his name on a piece of paper.

'Well,' answered Libron, his father, 'it's not really a writing pencil. The young lady that sold it to me said that it's a drawing pencil. Let me show you.' Libron took back the pencil and, on a large piece of paper, began to draw a cockerel; and to Ripley's amazement, as his father drew and shaded in, the cockerel's wings and body, the pencil marks changed colour, and soon Libron had drawn the most colourful cockerel that Ripley had ever seen.

'Let me try!' he exclaimed and, taking another piece of paper, he began to draw a fox just like one he had seen in the forest the day before.

'Very good,' said his father. 'Now shade in the drawing and let the pencil work its magic.' And Ripley did exactly that, and soon the fox had a beautiful golden brown coat and tail, and a pink tongue and gleaming white teeth.

Ripley spent the rest of the day drawing, and he drew a cat, a dog, a horse, a dear and a grisly bear, until finally, with a yawn, he decided that it was time for bed.

'I think we've all had a long day,' said Ripley's mother, whose name was Asmarel, and it's dark outside, so I think it's time we all went to bed. And so off to bed the three of them went. And they slept very well indeed, right up until the sun was beginning to rise and light was filtering through the trees. For it was then that Ripley awoke, wondering what the strange noise was.

He and his family lived in a tree-house; though it was no ordinary tree-house, as the house was not in a tree, but a huge tree was growing up through the middle of the house, with a spiral staircase winding up and around it. So, on stormy nights, the whole house would creak, which meant that the family were used to strange noises.

But what was that strange munching sound? Ripley wondered. And that other sound, rather like his father snoring, except that it was coming from downstairs? He climbed out of bed and dressed quickly and, without bothering to wake his parents, he began to make his way down the spiral staircase. But, before he reached the ground floor, he stopped to survey the amazing scene below.

'Oh no!' he whispered. For in the middle of the room, stood a horse, with its head half buried in his father's favourite comfy chair, busily eating the straw that it was stuffed with. While scattered around the room – and, perhaps fortunately, all fast asleep – were assorted animals: a cat on his mother's chair, a dog on the mat beside the front door, a dear sprawled on the floor in front of the fireplace, a fox at the bottom of the stairs, and a grisly bear snoring away under the dining table.

Quietly, Ripley turned around and began to tiptoe back up the stairs to fetch his parents, but it was then that a cockerel, that Ripley had not noticed sitting on the shelf above the fireplace, woke up and began to crow loudly, 'Cock-a-doodle-do! Cock-a-doodle-do!'

And then, as Ripley turned back to look, the mayhem began.

The cat woke immediately and let out a loud meow as it leapt up from the chair as though it had found itself sitting on hot coals. The dog jumped up from the mat and started to bark at the cat. The dear by the fireplace staggered to its feet, getting its antlers caught in one of the fireside chairs and sending it crashing. The fox was so frightened that it ran around in circles, chasing its tail. The horse began to whinny and to kick with his hind legs, sending more furniture crashing across the room. And then, with the loudest growl that Ripley had ever heard, the grisly bear got up from under the table, lifting it off the floor and tossing it aside as though it was made paper. And all the while, the cockerel on the shelf above the fireplace crowed and crowed, 'Cock-a-doodle-do! Cock-a-doodle-do!'

'Ripley! Ripley! Whatever is happening?' Ripley's mother, Asmarel, came hurrying down the stairs, dressed in her nightgown and with her hair standing on end as though she had had a terrible fright. And when she reached her son she did have a terrible fright, because her home was being wrecked by dog chasing a cat, a fox chasing its own tail, a dear rearing up on its hind legs and knocking precious crockery off shelves, a horse kicking and bucking, and a very angry grisly bear roaring and lashing out at all the other animals with his sharp claws, while the cockerel, now flying around the room, was still crowing, 'Cock-a-doodle-do! Cock-a-doodle-do!'

'My goodness!' exclaimed Asmarel as she turned to run back up the staircase, only to crash into Libron, who was hurrying down. He also was still in his nightgown, and he fell headlong, taking his wife with him and barrelling into Ripley; and the three of them ended up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. This frightened the animals, making them scramble away into the four corners of the room.

And the grisly bear was frightened too, what with the Cock-a-doodle-do-ing, and the meowing, and the barking, and the whinnying, and the sound of falling crockery and crashing furniture and now, what looked like a three-headed monster (but was, in fact, three elves in a heap) threatening him, he did what you might expect. He got up onto his hind legs, let out an ear-splitting roar and attacked.

'Pop!'

Suddenly, just like a soap bubble - and just in time to save the elves from being torn to pieces - the grisly bear vanished.

'Pop, pop!'

And the horse, and the dear, vanished too.

'Pop, pop, pop!'

And, one by one, the dog, and the cat, and the fox, disappeared, as well.

Relived, but bewildered, father, mother and son, untangled themselves, got shakily to their feet and then turned and looked towards their front door.

'Who are you?' Ripley asked. For the door was wide open and, in the doorway, there stood a young woman; not an elf, but a human with long flowing red hair, and dressed in a bright yellow gown.

'I'm sorry to have caused you so much trouble,' she said.

'Indeed you should be,' said Libron, fastening the buttons of his nightshirt which had come undone during his fall down the stairs.

'I don't understand,' said Asmarel.

Just then, the cockerel, who had been hiding behind an upturned chair, came strutting across the floor and began to crow, 'Cock-a-doodle-do! Cock-a...' But before he got to his second doodle-do, the young woman clicked her fingers at him and, 'Pop!' he too disappeared, just like all the other animals had done.

'Are you a witch?' Ripley asked.

'I am,' said the young woman. 'My name is Jillander, and I made a terrible mistake: I sold your father the wrong pencil.' She looked around the room, and there, on the floor amongst the broken pottery, was Ripley's pencil. Taking an identical one from a pocket in her gown, Jillander offered it to Libron. 'Perhaps you would like to exchange the pencil for this one, sir, and please accept my apologies.'

'That's all very well,' said Asmarel, with tears in her eyes, 'but look at what all the animals have done to my house.'

'Don't worry, dear,' said Libron, as the witch handed him the pencil. 'Things may not be as bad as they seem.'

'That's right, Mother,' said Ripley. 'The witch can surely magic everything back the way it was, can't you, Jillander?'

Jillander smiled at Ripley. 'You are quite right young elf. How clever of you to guess. Yes, every single thing must go back into place, exactly as if nothing unusual had happened. In fact, exactly as if nothing had happened at all.' And, with that, she clapped her hands together, and did exactly what she had promised.

***

As bright sunshine and birdsong woke Ripley, he yawned and stretched, and then quickly pushed back his bed covers as he remembered that today was his birthday, and that his father had promised him a very special present. 'I wonder what it could be?' he said to himself.

The End

If you like stories of witches and magic, look for Astrantian Tales, also by Ian Hobson.