The Elf, the Dwarf and the Magic Flute

© 2010 Ian G Hobson

Ripley had a new friend: a dwarf called Rumpledum. Rumpledum lived in log cabin at the edge of the forest; which was an unusual place for a dwarf to live, as they usually prefer to live underground in caves and tunnels and suchlike.

One day, Ripley – who, as you may recall from an earlier story, was a young elf – was on his way to visit his friend, Rumpledum, when he found something lying on the ground in the middle of the forest path. At first he thought that it was just a stick with a bad case of woodworm, as there was a line of small round holes along its length. But as he was about to kick it off the path and into the brambles, he realised what it was: a flute.

He bent down to pick it up and, after wiping the dust off it with the sleeve of his coat, he put one end to his lips and blew. But not a sound came out. This was very disappointing, because Ripley had often wished that he could play a musical instrument. He tried again, this time with his fingers over some of the holes, but still no sound came from the flute. He closed one eye and looked, with the other eye, down inside the length of it, trying to see if it was blocked with something.

'What have you got there?'

Ripley looked up to see his friend, Rumpledum, walking along the path towards him. The dwarf, dressed in colourful woollen leggings and jacket, looked like almost any other dwarf, except for one thing: he was actually quite tall; just as tall as Ripley in fact.

'I think it's supposed to be a flute,' replied the elf, with a smile. 'But I can't get a squeak out of it.'

'Let me try.' Rumpledum took the flute from Ripley and examined it carefully. On the opposite side to the line of holes were some strange markings; looking rather like writing of some sort. He put the flute to his lips and blew, making a single clear note that seemed to rise up into the air until it vanished into the canopy of green leaves above their heads.

'That's odd,' said Ripley, 'it wouldn't work for me, and yet you have just one blow and out comes that beautiful sound. See if you can play a tune.'

'I don't really know any tunes,' the dwarf answered, but he blocked most of the holes with his fingers, put the flute to his lips again and blew, this time making a series of notes, as he moved his fingers up and down, and tilting his head back to send the notes high into the treetops again.

But it was then that Ripley saw that something very strange was happening: it seemed that with every note that his friend made, he was growing bigger and bigger. 'I think you better stop,' said Ripley. But Rumpledum was so engrossed in playing the flute that he had failed to notice his steadily increasing size, or to notice his friend's warning. So Ripley took a deep breath and shouted, 'stop!' while reaching up and tugged at the dwarf's sleeve, for he had grown so much that already his elbows were higher than the elf's head.

'Why must I stop?' Rumpledum asked, as he lowered the flute and looked around, at first wondering where his friend had gone, and then looking down at him. 'Oh! What are you doing down there? You've shrunk!'

'It's not me that's shrunk,' replied Ripley, looking with amazement at his huge friend, whose leggings and jacket were now so tight that they looked about ready to burst at the seams. 'It's you! As you played the flute you got taller and taller!'

Rumpledum looked around at the forest. Ripley was right: the trees were not as tall as they should be, and the footpath that the two friends were standing on was no more than a short stride in width, and his clothing felt very very tight. 'What has happened to me?' he asked in dismay, with tears welling in his eyes. 'Now I can never go home!'

'It must be the flute,' said Ripley. 'It must be magic. You didn't wish to be bigger did you?'

'Wish to be bigger!' exclaimed Rumpledum. 'Why ever would I do that? I was too big already. Ever since I was ten years old I've been too big. I've always wished to be smaller, not bigger. That's why I left home: the other dwarfs were always making fun of me, and I was always banging my head as I walked through doorways.'

'Oh, I see,' said Ripley. 'Well, don't worry. I'm sure there's something we can do.'

'Like what?' asked the now huge, and un-dwarf-like, dwarf. 'I'll probably be like this for the rest of my life.'

'No,' Ripley replied, 'there must be some way to undo the magic. Let me take another look at that flute.' Rumpledum handed the flute back to the elf who looked at it thoughtfully for a moment, running his fingers over the strange markings on the underside. 'I think I know what's happened,' he said. 'I've often wished that I could play a musical instrument, but this flute wouldn't work for me at all, while you have often wished to be smaller but, after blowing into the flute, you have grown bigger.'

'What are you saying?' said Rumpledum. 'That whatever we wish for, the flute makes the opposite happen?'

'That must be it,' said the elf. 'It must be a magic flute. Perhaps you could get smaller again by playing the flute and wishing to be bigger. But the question is: if you wish for what you don't want, will the flute grant what you do want, or will it know what you secretly wish for?'

'That's quite a conundrum,' said a familiar voice.

Ripley turned around to find a tall and kindly-looking elf standing behind him. 'Father!' said Ripley. 'Look what's happened to Rumpledum. He's grown even bigger and he's worried that he will never be able to go home to his people again.'

'So I see,' said Ripley's father, whose name was Libron. 'And you think that it's all the fault of this flute?' Libron, who knew a thing or two about magic, took the flute from his son, and he too examined the strange markings, while Ripley told him of everything that had happened since he found it lying on the path.

'This is old-Elvish writing,' said Libron, after studying the flute carefully, 'and, roughly translated, it says: Be careful what you wish for.'

'But I didn't wish for anything,' said Rumpledum. 'At least, I didn't mean to.'

'So the flute knows your innermost thoughts,' said Libron. 'But not to worry. I think I can work out a way of making you small again; even smaller than you were, if you like. Then you will definitely be able to return to your people.'

'But how?' asked Ripley, worried that if his father was right, and that Rumpledum could be shrunk to normal dwarf size, then he would lose his new friend.

'Like this,' Libron answered, returning the flute to his son. 'Try and play it again, Ripley, but with your eyes closed, and keep playing until I tell you to stop.'

Reluctantly, Ripley did as his father asked and this time, when he put the flute to his lips, it did work for him, making a series of beautiful musical notes as he moved his fingers up and down over the holes.

'Stop!' shouted Libron. Again Ripley followed his father's instructions and, upon opening his eyes, he saw that Rumpledum was no longer a giant dwarf because, as Ripley had played the flute, the dwarf had shrunk to at least a head shorter than he had been before the flute first worked its magic, making his clothes now seem quite big and baggy.

'This is wonderful,' said Rumpledum, now with tears of joy in his eyes. 'Now I can go home – to my real home under the mountain. But how did you do that?' he asked, looking from Ripley to his father and then back again.

'I wish I knew,' answered the young elf with a frown. But gradually his frown turned into a smile as he realised what had happened. 'I wasn't careful what I wished for, was I Father?'

'No,' Libron answered. 'I guessed that your fear of losing Rumpledum's friendship might outweigh your desire to help him return to his people.'

'Losing my friendship!' exclaimed Rumpledum. 'You will never do that, Ripley.'

And he didn't, for though they didn't see each other quite as often, Ripley had made a friend for life.

THE END

The first Ripley story: http://www.abctales.com/story/ian-hobson/elf-trollgood-and-magic-sword