Stu wrapped himself in a big fluffy bath towel and settled down on the toilet, lid down, and placed his elbow on his knee and his chin on his closed fist. The remains of the shower curtain bunched around his feet. Legless’ eyes were wide and vivid in his flushed face. His clothes were even more rumpled than before.
“Beloved?”
“Hmm?” Stu didn’t even look up.
“I think I heard someone scream.”
“Probably,” Stu said disinterestedly.
“And a loud crash.”
“Probably the furniture.”
“Was that Glimmergroin’s battle cry?” The elf’s head tilted to the side.
“One o’ the ladies is probably still stroking’ his axe.” Stu’s fingers idly scratched at the beard he’d not bothered to shave off since returning to earth.
“He never makes those noises when your aunt strokes his axe.”
Stu squeezed his eyes shut and only grunted in reply.
“I can hear your mother screaming.”
“Someone probably broke a vase.”
“Should we not go and see if they need rescue?” He examined his knives carefully while his delicate ears picked up sounds that resembled those heard at Helm’s Deep.
“Nope.”
“But…”
“Look here, Legs, if you go down there, you’re goin’ t’have a dozen women swarming all over you, cameras at the ready. There are some things that even Elves can’t combat.”
Legless stared at him blankly. “I do not know what happened, beloved. I was very friendly and I didn’t wave my knives around.”
“You were friendly and you didn’t wave your knives around. They took it as a sign of weakness.”
Legless’ lip curled. “We cannot sit idly by and allow our friends to face mortal peril.”
Stu grunted but didn’t move from his seat.
With a sigh, Legless pressed his pointy ear to the door. After a moment, he lifted his head. “It is ominously silent.”
“Maybe they sat down to coffee and banana pudding.”
“A truce?”
“This is the south. Banana pudding fixes what chocolate doesn’t.”
“Then it is safe for us to go down,” the elf placed his hand on the door knob.
Stu shifted his eyes and looked at Legless. “I’m reasonably certain you could make even that bunch forget about banana pudding.”
Legless’ lips pursed and his chin set stubbornly.
Stu sighed and stood up. He tightened his towel. “Oh, hell's bells.”
Legless flung open the door and, knives poised, stepped into the hall. There were no sounds at all coming from the downstairs portion of the house and he stepped cautiously into the hall. The family pictures were askew. Some had fallen to the floor in the scuffle. Stu followed, head tilted. The elf was right. The house was too silent. Together they took the stairs, each prepared for assault. At the bottom of the stairs, they remained unmolested and the house was still more silent than a graveyard at midnight.
Stepping around the prince, Stu walked into the living room. The front curtains had been torn down. Feathers from the stuffed pillows floated on a light breeze. The front door stood wide open and there was a large hole in the screen. On the couch, Joanne sat clutching a bottle of aspirin in one hand and a glazed ceramic lamp in the other. William held a kitchen chair, much in the way a lion tamer might. Aunt Sue and Glimmergroin crouched side by side on a chair. The dwarf sported a blackened eye and a split lip. He held his axe across his body. Aunt Sue’s wig was tilted at an odd angle and looked as though it had lost a battle with a Chihuahua.
“What happened?” Stu asked.
Joanne gave a little start and then looked at her son. “They went crazy…”
“Damndest thing I ever saw,” William added as he slowly released his death grip on the chair back.
“That hussy Lenore snatched off my wig and beat Luanne over the head with it.”
“More frightening than orcs…” Glimmergroin blinked his good eye and stared at Stu.
Joanne struggled for words. “They were like… like…”
“Arween,” the dwarf supplied.
Absently, Stu bent down and retrieved the remains of a throw pillow. Feathers drifted from the torn fabric. “Sorry for all the fuss,” he began.
“It’s his fault,” Joanne recovered enough to stab her hand towards Legless. The lamp quivered as she waved it around and the shade dropped to the floor. “They took one look at him…” she realized she was waving her favorite lamp and stopped. She set it gently back on the table.
Legless looked hurt. “I did nothing to them.”
William planted himself heavily on the chair he’d been holding. “I just don’t get it. It was like …an Elvis sighting.”
“Oh, God,” Joanne moaned. “I think that’s Janet’s car cruising up and down the street.”
“Bolt the door!” Glimmergroin shouted. His axe swung, narrowly missing a vase and the butt-end smacked soundly into William’s foot as he leapt to his feet.
William howled in pain and fell out of his chair and slapped his head against the coffee table. Joanne screamed and flung out her arm, sending her favorite lamp skittering to the floor with a crash. Aunt Sue snatched an umbrella from the stand by the door and stood, skinny legs braced, ready for combat. The car, a red Camero, cruised once more past the house. Legless rushed forward to slam and bolt the front door. He leaned with his back pressed against it.
Stu pursed his lips and gave the prince a once over. “I think maybe we should be heading on up to New York.