Rochelle L. Sharpe

Chapter Four: An annoying little elf.

We aren’t in the bush anymore, the Aussie gums and paperbarks long gone. A forest you would see in a fairytale surrounds us, snow covering the ground and trees. It’s not as cold as I expect. The sun is shining, and there is no wind.   

Ashlyn lets go of my hand. I half turn, watching the shimmering air fade as the portal closes, before turning back to Ashlyn.

“I’m guessing we don’t have an Uber picking us up.”

A faint smile. “No taxi’s either. Aunt Lynda said she would send someone to collect us.”

“Right.”

Thistle lifts her nose, sniffing the air. “The transport is almost here.”

“Thank you, Thistle,” Ashlyn says.

I follow her gaze, staring into the trees as I wait for this transport to appear.

Something slams into my face, wrapping itself around my head, a loud ‘Got cha!’ filling the air.

I stumble back, a cry of alarm escaping. I drop the bags as I crash to the ground.

A weight smacks into my chest before a face hovers above mine, too close to see anything but little sharp teeth bared at me.

“Poplyn!” Ashlyn shouts. “Get off him right this minute!”

The angry face is no longer in mine as the creature looks up at Ashlyn.

No bigger than a monkey, the creature was human-like, with pointy ears, pointy teeth and pointy nose. An elf?

“Me protect Queen from this creature!”

Ashlyn was beside me now, hands on hips, looking down at Poplyn. “You don’t need to protect me from Sam. He is my friend.”

He looks down at me, lip curled back. “Friend?”

“Yes,” Ashlyn replies firmly.

The creature mumbles something but jumps off me. I suck in a breath and rub my chest as I get to my feet. That thing may be little, but it was heavy. As I brush snow off my clothes, Ashlyn grabs my Akubra and hands it back to me.

I thank her and place it on my head.

The creature stands beside Ashlyn; it’s head just above her knee. It’s wearing a little pair of brown pants, green shirt, and a little green pointed hat.

It sticks its tongue out at me, and I raise an eyebrow at it.

 “Be nice,” Ashlyn warns.

It folds its arms, muttering again.

“Sam this is, Poplyn. Poplyn is my overprotective guard,” Ashlyn explains.

Poplyn huffs. “Protective, overly, I not!”

“As amusing as this is,” Thistle says, her haughty voice cutting into my mind, “Your transportation has arrived.”

I turn and see a horse-drawn sleigh waiting for us. It’s a deep green with little gold bells on the side. A boy, probably fourteen or fifteen, sits in the driver’s seat.

Ashlyn turns to Thistle.

“Psst!”

I look at the little elf. He waves me closer and I lean down. He leaps up and nips my ear.

“Hey!” I exclaim, grabbing my ear. When I pull my fingers away, there is a smear of blood on them.

“If you hurt Queen, I hurt you,” he warns.

I scowl at him. “You didn’t need to bite my ear. I’m not going to hurt her.”

“We ‘ill see.”

I scoop up a bit of snow and place it on the bite, not sure if it will help. It was just a nip, so not that bad. I’ve gotten plenty of them from Rusty, but still, it was uncalled for.

I realise Ashlyn is saying goodbye to Thistle and step up beside her. “What’s going on?”

“Thistle is going to go and stay with her family for a couple of days, before meeting us at Aunt Lynda’s.”

“Have fun,” I say to Thistle.

 “Thank you, Master Evans. I shall endeavour to.”

Ashlyn hugs Thistle, and the unicorn closes her eyes, rubbing her head into the side of Ashlyn’s.

Ashlyn lets go, stepping back.

“Fare the well.” Thistle backs up a few steps, before turning and bounding into the trees.

“I guess we should get going,” Ashlyn says, but doesn’t move.

I go and retrieve our bags.

Poplyn runs ahead, swinging up onto the sleigh and sitting on the back of it.

The boy hops down from the driver’s seat, taking the bags from me and placing them in the wooden box attached to the back of the sleigh.

“Thanks. I’m Sam.” I hold out my hand. He looks at it quizzically, so I drop it.

“Olen.” He dips his head and hops back up into the driver seat.

I return to Ashlyn. “Might as well get this over and done with.”

She nods. I grab her hand and tug her forward. She trudges after me.

I open the sleigh door for her. “Ladies first.”

She thanks me and climbs up into the sleigh. I slide in beside her. There isn’t much room, so our sides are pressed together, not that I’m complaining. 

“How you be, Miss Ashlyn?” the boy asks, turning around in his seat.

Ashlyn smiles for the first time. Probably relieved he isn’t calling her queen.

“I’m very well, Olen, thank you. Look how much you’ve grown!”

The boy grins. “Your aunt feeds me well.”

Ashlyn laughs, and I smile, happy to see her happy.

“There’s a blanket under the seat there if you get cold.”

“Thank you, Olen.”

Olen turns around. He shouts a ‘Hey ya!’ and the horse starts off.

I snuggle even closer to Ashlyn. “This is cosy.”

Her smile returns. “Are you a romantic, Samuel Evans?”

“I can be.”

She feigns shock. “A tough farmer like you?”

“Hey, I have a heart under all these muscles.”

I flex an arm, not that you can see much under the snow jacket. She laughs and I grin. There is no sweeter sound than Ashlyn Sorrows laughing.

Poplyn forces his head between us, barking out a harsh laugh. He plops himself down on our shoulders and scowls at me. “No ha-ha’s.”

“Oh, lighten up,” Ashlyn says to the elf, tickling his belly. He tries to hold it in, but a giggle escapes. “Isn’t this time of year about laughing and having fun with family and friends?”

“Queen fun, yes. Him, no allowed.”

Ashlyn leans forward so I can see her face. “See, protective. He was assigned to me by the prince.”

Understanding dawns. He is still loyal to this prince whose heart Ashlyn broke. Well, he’s going to have to get over it. Ashlyn didn’t choose the prince.

“Ashlyn wants me here,” I tell the elf.

He huffs, folding his arms.

“He is right, Poplyn. You need to protect Sam while he is here, like you would me.”

The little elf’s mouth flops open and close like a fish gasping for air. “As Queen wants,” he finally manages.

The elf doesn’t move for the rest of the sleigh ride, but I’m still pressed up against Ashlyn, so I count it as a win.

We pass a nicely painted sign reading ‘Welcome to Hemlock Hollow.’

“We are almost there,” Ashlyn says, her voice tight again.

My stomach clenches and I send up a quick prayer that Ashlyn’s aunt will like me.

(Stay tuned for chapter five!)

© Rochelle L. Sharpe, 2025.