Manfred! Bring Me My Owl!
 

'But sir...the owl...is, is sleeping..."

'You dolt! Why must you cower like a school girl?!? Now bring it to me!'

'But sir...the last time I woke the owl it scared me so...'

'Very well then...be off with you. I have no need of a frightened rabbit. I shall fetch the raptor my self.'

All men of power and position knew that if a task was to be done right it must be done singularly, a fate Baron Elkton knew all to well.

As the tall, sinewy Elkton unlatched the gate to the aviary a cold breeze swept though. The sun had now set past the oaks and the sound of night made its way through the pond, the orchards and echoed through the courtyard. He glanced back to the manor only to see the silhouette of Manfred in the window of the library. Manfred was slight in stature and character often weeping and whining with a perpetual drip from his bulbous nose and a strange mannerism of stumbling every third step. Elkton shook his head in disgust. An action that was all too familiar and lately all to frequent. He considered relieving Manfred of his post and wondered why he hadn’t. Just then he heard a load shriek…SHREEEE! He looked back to the aviary and barely saw his Owl feasting on one of the ground squirrels he let run. The Owl quickly made a meal of it and glanced towards Elkton who was shinning his lantern towards the bird. The owl’s large yellow eyes gleamed. Elkton held out his arm and the large bird took flight resting on the thick leather sleeve.

“Come my friend, we have work to do.”

The chill of the night blanketed the estate. A northerly breeze picked up the cold moist air and tumbled it through the manor carelessly and without cessation. Manfred was doing all he could to latch the windows shut that Baron Elkton demanded to be opened during the day. For any other, the task would have taken but moments yet Manfred had the misfortune of being born with hands that consisted of fingers no larger than his smallest toe. He had seven on each hand. His feet were an entirely other matter.

As Baron Elkton entered the great hall he lifted his arm and the Owl took flight, climbing and circling three times through and perched on the far rail which surrounded the hall. Elkton continued on to his library. The owl never took his gaze off the Baron. As Elkton entered the tomes the Owl took flight and followed again resting on a ladder rung near where Elkton had stopped to pick out a manuscript. The Owl kept his gaze never leaving from distraction. He waited for his master’s request.

“Tonight my friend, we shall embrace The Chatsworth Retention.” He looked into the Owl's yellow glare. The bird’s pupils dilated drinking in as much light as possible without being blinded.

There are those that toil in the physical domain. The world of tasks and trade. Sweat and callous, cuts and bruises all product of a given task. There are others who float in the world of numbers and columns. Balancing the deciphering. Their day begins and ends with little deviation. Others serve, some steal, others beg. Of those of privilege and post, few quest forward to break to grasp of entitlement and favor not opinion but thirst for divine note and cease not until their gaze is blurred and the night wakes to dawn.

Baron Elkton’s burning desire never faltered yet his mercy for others did. Often the means to his end was founded in a required isolation which was bought and paid for. The extent of his land holdings grew richer with the discovery of certain minerals. He was generous enough but not out of obligation rather guile.

As Elkton read aloud, the owl stared intently. ‘Dans seulement des occurrences rares il soutient qu'un homme de substance cintrera à un roi qui est injuste pour non tous les rois sont juste et non tous les hommes sont de substance.’

What the hell are you smoking, and why aren't you sharing?

Il faut d'avoir encore de mead, immediatemont (man, I need more help with spelling, was a time 20+ years ago when I would have corrected others on such simple statements...)

‘Chargez pas au-dessus de la folie immédiate, un imbécile pourtant un juste du poteau abandonnera la fierté pour un autre jour.’ (Translated: Burden not over the immediate folly, a fool will yet one of just post shall relinquish pride for another day.)

“Sir…your evening Aperitif and smoke.”

“Agh, very well done Manfred. I trust you were able to latch all the windows?’

“All but one sir…the south tower was just…just too much sir.’ Manfred sensed the Owl was fixing a gaze on him. He refused to look the bird in the eyes. The sight of the bird would send a cold chill up and down his spine and often he would find himself involuntarily relieving himself when the bird was in striking range.

“Very well, I shall see to it in awhile. We don’t want bats finding there way in do we Manfred.”

“No sir. No bats tonight sir. No unwanted guests sir.” Manfred left the tray at his master’s side. “Shall I draw a bath sir?”

“No Manfred, your dismissed for the evening. Perhaps the cooks have something of interest left over. Be off with you now and have a good rest.”

After an hour or so, Elkton closed the manuscript. “Come my friend, to the South tower where our trusted servant couldn’t complete the simplest of tasks.”

As the Baron walked through the manor, the owl would fly ahead, perch and wait. The halls were dimly lit with shielded candles tended by the night servants. As Elkton climbed the South tower stairs he heard a stirring. He shown his lantern only to be met with gleaming eyes looking back. Eyes that were not yellow like his Owl’s but the color of the flame of his lantern. Eyes reflecting back all that it saw.

Baron Elkton smiled “Well, this is a surprise! It’s been longer than I had thought possible and I dare say I took you for lost or mad. Welcome once again, welcome.”

Elkton looked to his visitor and could see a few drops of blood trickle down. “My Lord your injured!” He rushed over and cast his lantern on the wound. “You’ve been shot with an arrow… no, a bolt from a crossbow! It’s still in as well. Stay still my friend, stay still. I shall see to it that you will be cared for.” Elkton rushed to the tower door and screamed “Manfred! To the South Tower! Bring water and bandages! Manfred!!!”

Within seconds three night servants were at the door and a moment later was Manfred. “Sir! What is it? What is it sir? Who is hurt? Who is hurt sir?” Manfred looked upon their guest. He dropped the bowl of water. A smile grew and he rushed forward.

“Manfred! Easy man, can’t you see the wound!” the Baron barked. “Sir…I see all to well…we have a guest for the night and I hope much longer! Welcome back my dear. Welcome home.”

That concludes chapter one.

Manfred! Bring Me My Owl!
 

I don't have your bird!

Chapter two, chapter two!

Je vais un tete de cheuxfleaur(I have a head of cauliflower)

"There are eels in my hovercraft..."

Awhile back there was an Owl living in my hood, then one day I noticed it had gotten run over..mashed into the pavment as it were...

Mike...funnier than hell. Thanks.

Chapter Two



Baron Elkford sat by his Starian through out the night and into the next morning often dozing off then wakening from images of the past. Hauntings. He looked down at his wounded friend. The bolt was removed, the wound cleaned and bandaged and the patient given a tea of nightshade, poppy and mushroom mold.

“Sir?” Manfred whispered. “Sir?” He tried again. Elkford looked his way. “Is she going to be…alright?” Manfred was clinching his coat tight around his frame. The catacombs were cold and damp but the perfect place for a Starian. They often nested deep in cliff walls over looking the ocean. This Starian was particularly comfortable in a place where Baron Elkford kept his wine.