This is the result of me and my friends discussing fairytales (don’t ask) during lunch. A series of ten-minute fairytales, all fairly humorous and revolving around our friends. The first is ‘Meadow, the Tavern wench.’

Meadow, the Tavern Wench

Once upon a time, in a far way land, there lived a Meadow. She wasn’t anything special, just a Meadow. However, she also worked as a tavern wench at her local inn. Since she was a tavern wench, there were times when people would wink and ask for a little more than a mug of ale, in which case Meadow would promptly hit them over the head with a mug, dump their unconscious bodies in a nearby alley, then poor ale on them(the cheap kind, mind, not the good kind she would have served them otherwise), and sprinkle them with a few coins in the hopes that passing thugs would think “Hey, they’re rich!” and mug them.

Well, it just so happens that one day while Meadow was off being a tavern wench that a fox came into the tavern. This fox was actually an enchanted fox, but Meadow didn’t know that, so she was very surprised when it started talking to her.

“Wench,” it said, “bring me an ale.”

“Dude, you’re a fox,” she said, and promptly booted it out the door.

A few minutes later, a very angry elf walked in, and approached Meadow the tavern wench.

“Wench, where’s my ale?”

“What ale?” Meadow, of course, not connecting the kicked fox with the angry elf, was very perplexed indeed.

“I asked for an ale, and then you kicked me!”

“I didn’t kick you, I kicked a fox!”

“I was the fox!”

“Well, why on earth were you a fox? Had you come in here and asked for an ale as an elf, I would have given you one instead of kicking you.”

Now the elf completely ignored Meadow’s logic, and backhanded her for being insolent. Meadow hit the elf upside the head with a mug, and did her normal thing with the unconscious elf. A few minutes later, however, the elf came back inside looking even angrier than before.

“Wench, those were golden iron coins!”

Meadow blinked. The elf blinked.

“So?” Meadow asked.

“So they burned me!”

Blink. “So?”

The elf backhanded her again, saying “Wench!” in a really loud, really disgusted way. Normally, Meadow wouldn’t have taken offense to being called a wench, because that was what she was, but the elf was being really mean, so she backhanded him right back. About this time, the tavern owner came up.

“What’s all this ruckus?” He asked.

Meadow looked at the elf. The elf looked at her.

“This elf didn’t pay his bill.”

The tavern keeper suddenly became engulfed in flames, ready to dish out some rather hefty punishment upon the elf. In defense, the elf grabbed Meadow the tavern wench and pressed a blade to her throat.

“Don’t come any closer, or I’ll cut her throat, and spill her innards all over the floor…which would technically make them outwards, and since they are actually innards, they aren’t supposed to be seen and are supposed to stay inside!”

Now, although most people had missed the elf’s point when he had begun to ramble, they stayed back anyway because they liked Meadow the tavern wench, and who would get them their ale if she died? The elf had gotten tired of standing by that point, and so he grabbed Meadow and whisked her off to elf land.

When they arrived there (through some mysterious and apparently speedy way of travel), the elf offered Meadow some water from a nearby spring. Meadow was quite thirsty by that point, as she had become dehydrated throughout all the backhanding and threatening that had happened to her so far, so she accepted the water and drank happily. When she was finished, the elf pointed and laughed.

“Ha! You drank our water, and now you are forever stuck in elf-land!”

Meadow was surprised, and confused. “But what am I going to do here?”

The elf blinked. Clearly, he hadn’t thought this far ahead.

“Well, you could open a tavern.”

“Nobody would show up! If they ate or drank anything, they’d be forever stuck here, too.”

The elf blinked. And blinked. “Well, I suppose if you are an elfen citizen you can leave every once in a while.”

Meadow was ecstatic. “Oh, okay. How do I do that?”

“Well, you can either be born here, fill out the paperwork, or get married.”

Meadow thought. The elf thought. They both thought so long that when Meadow got tired of thinking, she came up with a semi-brilliant idea.

“Well, you’re a guy. I’ll marry you.”

The elf’s response: Aaah!

When he stopped screaming, Meadow dragged him off to find some other elf to perform a marriage ceremony. Through some odd coincidence, all of the elf’s relative were close nearby, and they invited many other elves to the wedding, as well as Meadow the tavern wench’s friends. Meadow hadn’t really wanted to get married, and both she and the elf didn’t really like each other, but that was okay since the elf was actually a prince and they eventually had many destructive little Halfling children running around to distract them. The fact that their children were half-breeds and hated both their parents as well as the rest of the world is really only a footnote at this point.

The End