Wulf and Gils flee the thanks they get

“Perhaps we should just leave them somewhere he can find them,” Gils whined.

Wulf stopped and clenched his teeth and fists. Sometimes he wished he were an only child.

Gils pouted his lips and tried to look cute, though he should have known that trick never worked on his brother. “I’m tired of walking.”

“The whole point is to see the elf,” Wulf reminded him. “I want to ask him a few questions.”

“I know, but – ”

“No buts. We shall never have another chance like this. Mouse will never let us trick her so easy again.”

“I know, but can’t we just leave them? Then perhaps the elf will come find us to thank us.”

“Aye, and perhaps the bears will find them, and what then?”

Wulf saw at once that this had been a mistake. Gils’s eyes went wide and filled with tears. “You told me there wasn’t any bears in these hills.”

“Well, I don’t know. Perhaps there is and perhaps there isn’t. But even if there is, they won’t bother us. We’re elves. All the animals like us.”

“But that dog did try to kill me.”

“Aye, but that dog was mad.”

“I know, but what if there’s some mad bears in these woods?”

This idea gave even Wulf pause. He did not have time to think of a reply.

“There is worse than bears in these woods,” an unfamiliar voice growled from a few yards away and a few feet over their heads.

Wulf and Gils both squealed in terror. Never had a living creature succeeded in sneaking up on the combined forces of their pointed ears.

The voice was coming from the height of a tall, nearly naked being whom they knew immediately must have been the elf they sought. Even at this distance they could see that his eyes were looking out vaguely over their heads. He was blind, but he could not have appeared more menacing if he had been able to see them.

“You wanted to see an elf – now you have seen him. Know that it is what you are not.”

“We’re elves, too!” Gils said. “We’re just little!”

Wulf peeked out from behind his hand at the bravery of his little brother.

“What are you creatures doing in my woods?” the elf shouted. “Mine! How dare you come in search of me?”

His voice echoed through the hills like the blaring of a stag. Wulf thought that Mouse ought to be able to hear it from where they had left her. He dearly hoped she would.

The elf took a step closer to them. “Who sent you?” His blind eyes seemed to be looking out over their heads in search of someone else.

“No one sent us, sir,” Gils peeped. “We came to give you some apples, because you saved our friend.”

The elf’s head jerked to the side, turning his ear to them rather than his eyes. “What did you say?” he hissed.

“We came to give you some apples because you saved our friend Wyn. Remember?”

“Apples?” he whispered.

Wulf would not let his brother claim credit for all the bravery. He reached into his bag and pulled out an apple. “Here. Don’t you want some?”

The elf stood with the magnificent stillness of a deer poised for flight.

Wulf realized after a moment that the elf could not see the apple he was holding up to him. “We shall just set them on the ground right here between us,” he said soothingly, as he spoke to animals. “And then we shall just step back and let you take them. If you want them.” He turned to his little brother and hissed, “Gils!”

Gils bounded forward and deposited his little load of apples beside the others.

“We brought you six, sir,” Gils said. “Three green ones, and three reds in case you don’t like the greens. I like the green ones best, so if you don’t like them – ”

“Gils!”

“I’m just saying, if he doesn’t like them!” Gils whispered.

The elf ignored them and came shuffling forward, feeling through the stems and leaves with his bare toes.

“They’re right in front of you, sir,” Gils said. “If you want me to show you…”

“Don’t touch me!” The elf’s voice was hollow and more frightening than his furious shouts of before.

“Don’t you like apples?” Wulf whimpered. “Our friend said you did.”

“Our Da’s friend,” Gils corrected.

“His friend?” The elf’s whisper seemed to be all that remained of his voice.

“He said all you blind elves like apples. Don’t you?”

The elf sank gracefully to his knees and felt around with his hands.

“He’s an elf, too,” Wulf said. “His name is Vash.”

“He likes cheese,” Gils giggled, but the elf did not seem to notice it, and Wulf was too busy watching the elf to listen.

As soon as his hand had touched one of the apples, the elf had thrown himself upon the pile as if he believed them the apples of gold from the old story. He leaned his body over them, pressed his face against them, and caressed them with his hands.

“I guess you do like apples!” Gils crowed. “We would have brought more, but that’s all we could take. We had to pretend they were for our snack.”

The elf had taken one of the green apples into his hands and was holding it against his face.

“You like the green ones best, too!” Gils grinned, pleased that he was in good company, even if it meant he could not have them for his own snack.

“Shut up, you beetlehead!” Wulf whispered. “He can’t even see which one is red or green!”

“Go!” the elf howled. “Get out of here!”

“He didn’t mean to call you blind, sir,” Wulf whimpered.

The elf bounded gracefully to his feet and swung an arm blindly before him, though far from their faces. “Go away! Go away! If I ever see you again, I shall hurt you worse than any mad bear!”

It was not the roar of a monster or a man. The elf had only the helpless, tearful fury of a thwarted child, but the words were terrifying to boys too young to hear the difference, and they ran.