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A Night of Burns
A story of Elfhame
© 2026 by Walter Reimer
Blame assigned to
EOCostello
Thumbnail by
tegerio, color by 
Major Matt Mason
Fourteen
After a hot bath, I slept really well.
And no, it didn’t have anything to do with my mate asking me to transmogrify to a tall and over-muscled wolf mel with black fur and piercing blue eyes intent on ravishing her. Still, she had a lot of fun, and so did I, and after we had the aforementioned hot bath, we both had a very good night’s sleep.
The sun was up by the time we awakened, and while Anastasia got ready for the day I dressed in my tweeds and went downstairs for breakfast. I was still feeling a little queasy, so breakfast was tea with a small bowl of porridge to avoid riling up my stomachs again. That done and a glance out the window, revealing that the sky was gray and small flakes of snow were dancing in the light breeze, and I stepped outside to see what the battlefield looked like in the light of day.
“Excuse me, little boy!” I heard as I approached the Greytor-Gate, where a caravan headed back to Eastness had paused. I turned and looked up as a huge piebald stallion wrapped in a heavy drover’s coat clopped up to me. “Oh!” he exclaimed in Eastness-accented Standard Elvish. “Sorry, Master. Didn’t recognize you from behind.”
I gave him a slight grin, with just a tiny flash of my silver-steel teeth and reminding myself that he was a guest. “No problem,” I said. “What can I do for you, Mister - ?”
“Oh! Tim Furrow,” and we shook paws. “I’m the leader for this caravan, up from Albric Tor. We stopped for the night at the Leaping Trout.”
“I hope you had a profitable time in the Capital.”
“That we did,” he said happily. “A lot of us heard some sort of commotion outside last night, and we saw a bunch of wolves and roebucks fighting feral sheep.” He grinned and gave me a wink. “You really didn’t have to put on a show just because we were ing through.”
I thought about saying something, but thought better of it, and agreed that it was quite a performance. I wished him and the rest a fair journey; we shook paws again, and Furrow went back to the caravan, which presently disappeared through the Gate.
I decided to head for the [Sheaf], thinking that I might also head down to the Trout and have a chat with the Grangers. The inn was seeing more business from caravans to and from Eastness, as well as trade from the small villages of otters around the Veronka Lake to the east of the Great North Road, so Granger might be thinking of expanding the business.
Which also made me wonder, as a side issue, if Ooo-er knew about those otters.
I wasn’t very far from the [Sheaf] when the scrying-globe in my pocket began to vibrate. Taking it from my pocket, I was greeted by the image of my liege-lord’s nose. “[In fair day, greetings and peace, gracious lord]”, I said.
“[Teashor],” Prince Roland rumbled at me. “How are things in Elfhame, and in your new domain?”
I smiled. “Things are very well, [gracious lord]. Is there any service I may do?”
“Yes, indeed, [teashor]. The cheeses you sent down from Glenallid were well-received by His Majesty and myself. Even my nephew thought they were quite tasty. Made by the wolves, were they?”
“Yes, [gracious lord], as well as by older roebucks who still recalled the way to make it.” I resolved to this on to the [Guild of Cheesemakers], who no doubt would be pleased by the news.
Unfortunately, my stomachs took the opportunity to clench, forcing me to make a rather uncomfortable expression that Prince Roland immediately picked up on. “[Teashor], what in Her Name are you doing making those extraordinary faces?”
Nothing for it. “I am still suffering from last night’s haggis, [gracious lord].”
The royal skunk’s expression faltered as his eyes went wide. “The . . . what? You have been eating haggis?”
“Yes, [gracious lord].”
“And you didn't invite ME!?”
I hadn't known Prince Roland was familiar with baggy-pants Persoc Tor comedy, so I waited for a follow-up, which was soon forthcoming. “Might I enquire . . . no . . . forget that. I don't wish to know that.”
“It was part of my investiture, [gracious lord].”
“Ah, yes. I take it, then, that you have acquainted the wolves with their new charter?”
I kept my voice steady. “Yes, [gracious lord], and also read the Deed of Gift aloud.”
“Satisfactory, [teashor], satisfactory,” Prince Roland said with a certain amount of pleasure. “About the haggis.”
“Yes, [gracious lord]?”
“If you could bespeak those who prepared it, please have a few sent down to me – along with more cheese.”
“Yes, [gracious lord].” Better him than me.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
A story of Elfhame
© 2026 by Walter Reimer
Blame assigned to
EOCostelloThumbnail by
tegerio, color by Major Matt MasonFourteen
After a hot bath, I slept really well.
And no, it didn’t have anything to do with my mate asking me to transmogrify to a tall and over-muscled wolf mel with black fur and piercing blue eyes intent on ravishing her. Still, she had a lot of fun, and so did I, and after we had the aforementioned hot bath, we both had a very good night’s sleep.
The sun was up by the time we awakened, and while Anastasia got ready for the day I dressed in my tweeds and went downstairs for breakfast. I was still feeling a little queasy, so breakfast was tea with a small bowl of porridge to avoid riling up my stomachs again. That done and a glance out the window, revealing that the sky was gray and small flakes of snow were dancing in the light breeze, and I stepped outside to see what the battlefield looked like in the light of day.
“Excuse me, little boy!” I heard as I approached the Greytor-Gate, where a caravan headed back to Eastness had paused. I turned and looked up as a huge piebald stallion wrapped in a heavy drover’s coat clopped up to me. “Oh!” he exclaimed in Eastness-accented Standard Elvish. “Sorry, Master. Didn’t recognize you from behind.”
I gave him a slight grin, with just a tiny flash of my silver-steel teeth and reminding myself that he was a guest. “No problem,” I said. “What can I do for you, Mister - ?”
“Oh! Tim Furrow,” and we shook paws. “I’m the leader for this caravan, up from Albric Tor. We stopped for the night at the Leaping Trout.”
“I hope you had a profitable time in the Capital.”
“That we did,” he said happily. “A lot of us heard some sort of commotion outside last night, and we saw a bunch of wolves and roebucks fighting feral sheep.” He grinned and gave me a wink. “You really didn’t have to put on a show just because we were ing through.”
I thought about saying something, but thought better of it, and agreed that it was quite a performance. I wished him and the rest a fair journey; we shook paws again, and Furrow went back to the caravan, which presently disappeared through the Gate.
I decided to head for the [Sheaf], thinking that I might also head down to the Trout and have a chat with the Grangers. The inn was seeing more business from caravans to and from Eastness, as well as trade from the small villages of otters around the Veronka Lake to the east of the Great North Road, so Granger might be thinking of expanding the business.
Which also made me wonder, as a side issue, if Ooo-er knew about those otters.
I wasn’t very far from the [Sheaf] when the scrying-globe in my pocket began to vibrate. Taking it from my pocket, I was greeted by the image of my liege-lord’s nose. “[In fair day, greetings and peace, gracious lord]”, I said.
“[Teashor],” Prince Roland rumbled at me. “How are things in Elfhame, and in your new domain?”
I smiled. “Things are very well, [gracious lord]. Is there any service I may do?”
“Yes, indeed, [teashor]. The cheeses you sent down from Glenallid were well-received by His Majesty and myself. Even my nephew thought they were quite tasty. Made by the wolves, were they?”
“Yes, [gracious lord], as well as by older roebucks who still recalled the way to make it.” I resolved to this on to the [Guild of Cheesemakers], who no doubt would be pleased by the news.
Unfortunately, my stomachs took the opportunity to clench, forcing me to make a rather uncomfortable expression that Prince Roland immediately picked up on. “[Teashor], what in Her Name are you doing making those extraordinary faces?”
Nothing for it. “I am still suffering from last night’s haggis, [gracious lord].”
The royal skunk’s expression faltered as his eyes went wide. “The . . . what? You have been eating haggis?”
“Yes, [gracious lord].”
“And you didn't invite ME!?”
I hadn't known Prince Roland was familiar with baggy-pants Persoc Tor comedy, so I waited for a follow-up, which was soon forthcoming. “Might I enquire . . . no . . . forget that. I don't wish to know that.”
“It was part of my investiture, [gracious lord].”
“Ah, yes. I take it, then, that you have acquainted the wolves with their new charter?”
I kept my voice steady. “Yes, [gracious lord], and also read the Deed of Gift aloud.”
“Satisfactory, [teashor], satisfactory,” Prince Roland said with a certain amount of pleasure. “About the haggis.”
“Yes, [gracious lord]?”
“If you could bespeak those who prepared it, please have a few sent down to me – along with more cheese.”
“Yes, [gracious lord].” Better him than me.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
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Tai-1
~tai-1
Heh!
Roland's a bit of an eater, he is.
OldeWolfe
~oldewolfe
So Roland's a bit of a foodie.
Very much the gourmand. Big fat skunk.
ProfesseurRenard
~professeurrenard
At least Roland won’t suffer a mutiny from eating the haggis.
True. Omnivorous, and a gourmand.
Ugh. One does not eat haggis because one WANTS. One eats haggis because one MUST.
