The group sat on the beach at Both, watching the waves coming in and going out. They sat in two groups of five, the local delicious Fairies and the five travellers. To a casual observer it may have appeared that they sat as two alternative groups, six Fairies and four travellers. To the more discerning observer they could have been identified as yet a different two groups, seven female and three male. To an observant onlooker they may have appeared as three groups, being six Fairies, three males and a very ugly female Orc with ears like saucers. To the pedant it was six Fairies, a Goblin, a Gnome, a raggedy arsed Pixy and an Orc with a face like a bag of spanners. Which ever spectator we want to be we would have come to the same conclusion; there were ten of them sitting on the beach and the sky was filled with a myriad of rainbows.
Hanny was buried deep in the inner turmoil of her soul. She was afraid to admit that she had any feelings for Peter. He was a Pixy, she a Fairy and never the twain should meet. And yet she wanted to meet his meat. She felt an attraction that had been beyond her innermost self for so long that she felt it was a betrayal. Or some other soppy shit she couldn’t explain. Maybe it was a lust for life or a life for lust.
She tried a pragmatic point of view. She was a handmaiden to the King, a doyen of the Royal Court and one of the best-looking babes on the planet, a trustee of the King’s knickers. He was a maverick Pixy, a stealer of tarts and becoming increasingly addicted to the Magic in his Pants. If she got any closer her friends here would remind her of the heartbreak she had endured with the last waster who had dipped his periwinkle into her salty sustainer, followed by her resolve to never be involved with a male ever again in the entire future history of the Universes. Still, what else are friends for?
She looked sideways at Peter as he dug his toes into the sand. It was amusing to watch him with that miniature spade, excavating a tiny hole around each toe to ensure it was well and truly buried; she wondered if he would place a diminutive tombstone at the head of each digit. Observing the small feat on his feet she was glad not to be lack toes intolerant.
No body was speaking.
Each of the travellers and each of the hosts were buried deep within their own thought processes, each looking into their souls for a way forward in this game we call life. Apart from Dumbell Ena who lacked the capability to think much beyond her next meal or her next visit to the hairdressers.
Hanny was falling for Peter and she hated herself for it. Such vulnerability: to rely on another person to feel complete? Why give up that independence and commit to someone else? No more nights out with the girls without being asked what time you’ll be home. Having to ask for money when your pride forbids it. No more lounging round in sweaty pyjamas on a Saturday morning because you can’t be arsed to wash your hair and trim your lady garden. Relationships, she thought, who bloody needs them!
She resisted.
An intimate relationship would mean giving up her freedoms. No longer could she pop out for a drink with the girls when she felt like, or go training in the art of Scum Removal from Kings, or take a holiday on her own with her friends here in Both. Would her friends start to judge her based on Peter’s characteristics? Would she be judged by Peter’s friends, not that he had any apart from Greg. The whole dating game was just such an emotional and social minefield that she felt she may as well make do with chocolate and the occasional sneeze.
Alas for poor Hanny, she could not get inside of Peters’ head at this moment or else she would have felt a new dread enter her soul. As he sat this jolly sunny morning contemplating the golden sands of the Bay of Both, Peter was feeling a new ecstasy, one that was distracting him from Hanny. Last night he had taken his first overdose of moonlight in his Magic Underpants and the experience had thrilled him. Not only did the pants remove his burning sphincter pain but they added a new definition of happiness; just sitting in your undies watching the stars.
Peter wore the Enchanting Underpants as a necessary evil to cover the pain brought on by his misdeeds. He accepted they were designed to keep the pain at bay. He had not realised that if overcharged the Pants gave a pleasure in themselves, a pleasure he had not expected. He watched the sunshine on the water and longed for it to go down. He was planning to give the pants another top up tonight when nobody was watching. He was starting on the road to nowhere, the land where people lived for the dreamlike pleasure that came into their bodies. Not that he really needed to top up. It would just be for fun this one time, and then he’d follow Hannys instructions on the safe medical use of Magical Undercrackers.
His philosophical musings were aborted by the screeching of Dumbell Ena.
“What’s that out there?” she squealed.
They all looked.
At first nobody could see anything. Then far on the horizon they became aware of movement. They were unsure at first but slowly made out the outline of a small boat.
“Can you tell what it is yet?” asked Greg, astonished at the power of Ena’s eyes.
Ena looked flushed. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
“I can’t believe I’m seeing this,” she droned. “It is a myth from long ago. A legend dwelt upon by the female Orcs. A fairy tale that few of us really believe but I think it might be coming true for me today!”
The others were astonished at such lucidity from the moronic gargoyle impressionist. Peter and Hanny forgot their personal internal infernal denial problems, becoming intrigued at the Orcs’ uttering.
A legend for female Orcs?
How could it be a fairy tale if it was passed on by Orcs? Surely it was an Orcy tale.
“Tell me about the myth,” said Steve.
Ena shuddered and closed her eyes.
“I think I found the little man in the boat,” she said.
“What is the significance of the little man in the boat?” asked Hanny.
Ena sat down with a strange smile on her face and a new glow to her leathery skin.
“It is said amongst the lady Orcs that if we ever should achieve pleasure in this life then we must find the little man in the boat. And there he is out on the horizon, tossing about in the stormy sea. Is he coming this way?” she asked.
Ginger Spiderlegs stood up on her feet, leaning forward to peer out to sea. As she stood in this position the three lads imagined they were in heaven.
“I think I’ve found him,” said Ginger, “even though he is quite small. He is sitting there just in the prow of his boat. I don’t think he is coming our way; I think he will head back out to sea.”
“No!” screamed Ena. “He can’t just leave like that. I must get to know him better. I want to know more about him, his habits, his up and downs. What pleases him and what distresses him. I want more!”
With that she stood up and ran down the beach to the water side.
She hesitated for a short while then plunged into the sea. It was icy cold at first but she moved forward anyway.
“Come back little man! Don’t leave me this way! I can’t survive without your love; don’t leave me this way!”
With that she was gone.
A huge wave took her out to sea.
The remaining nine, being the original ten with one now departed, stood horrified at the waters edge. They saw Ena’s head pop up from below the waves occasionally but could not be sure it was really her; perhaps it was a seal or a porpoise or even the fin of a blue shark, creatures not that uncommon on Uranus, surprisingly.
Then nothing.
The sea calmed.
There was no sign of the boat with the little man and no sign of Ena.
The nine stood forlorn. Once they had been ten but no longer. One of their number had gone thus leading to the inevitable truth that ten take away one left nine.
Nine bodies stood on the beach, trying to feel a sense of loss.
Greg summed up their feelings; “Thank feck we’re rid of that hideous bitch!”
Fairy Hanny 