12 Days of Christmas STORIES, Kringlelander (Conclusion)

12th Night is almost here and our celebration of words and stories is almost at an end.

Here’s the conclusion of Kringlelander.  Click HERE for part one.


(Part 2)
by Rita

Flake 3

“Three centuries ago…” Elrond started to tell another of his long stories as the globe of snow settled to a new scene — a small, peaceful, snow-cover village appeared. “13 elves set out from Rivendell to learn the ways of the great craftsmen of Olurgius.”

Evidently the journey was long (though perhaps not as long as it took Elrond to tell me about it) and dangerous. “Only the bravest and strongest of elves could hope to make it there and back again…

“Thirteen left that day, all experts in their field. There was Maylifor, son of Mandiglor, master of silver and gold, maker of Solobigolh…” He  began to list each elf’s special skills and the weapons he made, and the warrior elves who used the weapons, and the battles in which those elves saw action …

After “Hardobim, son of Helomagrim…”  (the fifth elf in the series) I put up my hand “13 elves went on a journey to learn new skills, I got it.”

Elrond did that thing where he both raised his eyebrow and squinted at the same time then continued. “But low, the 13 did not make it to Olurgius for the winter was long and difficult  and many hardships befell the weary travelers. Lost was the band and desperate in their plight when a glimmer of hope from an expected place shone upon them.

“A roaming band of Dwarves came upon this noble crew and added them in their time of weakness. They brought 13 to their diminutive lair. No miners they, these dwarves were craftsmen. And so the elves found kindred spirits in their rescuers.

“Winter thawed to spring, and spring bloomed to summer. The grateful elves taught the dwarves all the knew, and the bearded ones taught the 13 many tricks and skills they had learned under the mountains. As fall fell into winter the travelers decided to stay one more season in the village before finishing their journey to Olurgius.

“When they returned to Rivendell they became the greatest masters of sword and shield. Their fine blades sang through the air in the Battle of Billingorarth…” the elf elaborated for several more minutes, whipping himself into a froth of excitement before I held up my hand again.

“So I’m to have some fine bit of elvish armor up at my cold castle, then?’

Annoyed, Elrond gave me THAT look — you know the one — and cut to the chase. “Alas, Santaron, no. Your love of the pipe and pint have made you oblivious to the most obvious once again.”

Hmmm, he had me there.

“Long winter nights make for the strangest of bed fellows.” Elrond spelled out for me — the sneer on his lips was even tighter than usual. “Living among the baser creature of Middle Earth for more than a year the 13 had come to appreciate a, shall we say, certain dwarfish style.” He cleared his throat, hardly able to mouth what came next out loud. “At some point during that long winter the 13 mingled with female dwarves.” He shuttered.

“Years later a delegation of the creatures made their way to this hallowed city. Among them were 26 oddlings. Twinned pairs of young creatures, one boy, one girl, hybrid dwarf and elf from each of the 13. Too tall and refined to be dwarves, too hairy and squat to be elves.”

The vein in Elrond’s temple throbbed. “We tried to educate the half childs, but the dwarf in  them was too strong, and they were stubborn. They didn’t want to learn our refined ways. Eventually, for their own happiness we found a colony for them in the Westerland. There they have lived amongst themselves multiplying once a generation and living long, peaceful, unexceptional lives. They never managed to produce much more than a butter knife between them, but they are content — indeed happy — to make toys instead of weapons. They celebrate silly joys of childhood.”

Galadrial’s ball now showed a gathering of mid-sized creatures in bright colored clothing frolicking around a decorated evergreen tree. “They… are… the… DWELVES” She said in her spooky, superior voice. “Dwarves… with… elf… like… visages.”

Magical creatures, at least half magic, they too would need to be relocated.

She handed me the globe of snow. “Are…   you … ready… Kringlelander?” I looked in the globe and saw that a little man with a long white beard and with fur trimmed red robes stood in the door of one of the buildings.

Elrond and Galadriel did a kind of fist bump and their elfin rings clicked together.

My guest room at Rivendell disappeared and suddenly I was at the Pole.

A little deer with a red nose landed next to me. He nuzzled his snout into my pocket looking for a deer treat,  and I knew I was home.


About ritalovestowrite

Freelance writer, graphic designer, musician, foodie and Jane Austen enthusiast in Northern Baltimore County, Maryland. As a writer I enjoy both fiction and non fiction (food, travel and local interest stories.) As an advocate for the ARTS, one of my biggest passions is helping young people find a voice in all the performing arts. To that end it has been my honor to give one-on-one lessons to elementary, middle and high school students in graphic design and music. And as JANE-O I currently serve as the regional coordinator for JASNA Maryland and am working on a Regency/Federal cooking project. View all posts by ritalovestowrite

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