While Quaraun had returned, he proved stubborn and rebellious, at least according to his father; refusing to give up his wizardry career, refusing to take a Moon Elf wife, refusing he wear the traditional pale silver-blue garb of the Moon Elves, refusing to give up his friendships with non-Elves, and refusing to cut his ridiculously long hair which reached past his knees and was only a few years from touching the ground. It was his refusal to do these things which had lead to his father beating him unconscious and then while the poor Elf lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood, cutting off his long silver hair.

Quaraun was infuriated over his father’s actions and while BeaLuna continued to ramble on her jokes about sex, Quaraun sat lost in his thoughts of how much he’d like to kill his father, with a few fleeting thoughts about eating his father and wondering if an Elf had ever eaten another Elf before and what Elf flesh might taste like.

“Are you listening to me?” BeaLuna yelled, bringing the Thullid-Elf out of his squishy thoughts of murder. “QUARAUN!”

“What?” Quaraun blinked and stared at her for a moment. He had forgotten where he was.

“I said are you listening to me?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I wasn’t.”

“You weren’t listening to me?”

“Really?”

“No.”

“You didn’t hear a word I said?”

“No. I didn’t hear a word you said.”

“Well, at least you're stupid enough to admit it."

"Why does that make me stupid?"

"Not many Moon Elves who will admit to anything."

"Than is it not they who are stupid?"

"Nah. They don't see it that way. Too busy being haughty and better then everyone else. An entire village of people with silver spoons rammed up their asses. How did the Moon Elves get so arrogant? Other Elves aren't half as arrogant as you Moon Elves are...."

“I’m not an Elf.”

“What?”

“I’m not an Elf.”

“I heard what you said. Can’t figure out why you said it.”

“My father murdered my mother.”

“Everyone knows that.”

“And he got away with it.”

“Yep. Everyone knows that too.”

“I’m not an Elf. That’s why he killed her.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really think he has much ground to stand on there. There was no evidence that your mother was ever unfaithful to him and there’s no evidence that you are a half Elf either.”

“But I’m not an Elf at all.”

“Quaraun, you are Moon Elf. One look at you says that. You’re a strange Moon Elf, but you’re most certainly a Moon Elf. You glow in the moonlight and everything, just like your supposed to.”

“You don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand?”

“I’m a Di’Jinn.”

“Yeah, well, you lived with them too long and they messed with your head and now you got these muddled up ideas about what you are and aren’t.”

“They messed with my head. Yeah. That’s the problem.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No. You don’t understand. The Elf is dead. I’m not an Elf any more. I can’t marry she-Elf...”

“You could marry me, I’ll let you be anything thing you want to be, dress any way you want. I don’t care if you want to be a girl. Don’t bother me none.”

“If I married you, he’d have you executed. Can’t taint the bloodline, we’re all incestuous, inbred pure bloods you know.”

“Wow. The thoughts you got in my head now. You know you’re like two feet taller than me right, even if you are shorter than every other Elf in the village. I’m only two feet tall here. Would he really think you could have sex with me if you married me? I mean there aren’t many half-Elf/half-Gnomes running around for a reason. Even a small Elf like you ain’t gonna fit his ding-dong inside of a Gnome’s hoo-hoo. I’m sorry, but your father thinks stuff like that he’s crazy.”

Quaraun stared at the Gnome.

“What? it’s true.”

“You use strange words.”

“Like what?”

“Ding-dong and hoo-hoo?”

“Would you rather I said penis and vagina?”

“Could you not talk like that?”

“Like what?”

“That... that.”

“What? You mean about sex?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t even say it, can you?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“It’s not a topic I like.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not comfortable with the idea of it.”

“You a gonna be a virgin your whole aren’t you?”

Quaraun did not answer her. He didn’t think he was a virgin any more. But he wasn’t sure.

“You are, aren’t you? See, that’s what I’m talking about. And your father has peanuts for brains if he thinks YOUR ever gonna get married.”

“I don’t plan to ever get married. I don’t want to get married. I have no reason to have a wife. I have no desire to have a wife. I don’t want a wife. I want... I... “

No. He could say what he wanted. He wanted King Gwallmaiic.

“Are you scared of sex? I know you’re scared of everything else under the sun, you know milk, snow, sun, rain, day, night, you might as well be scared of sex too. I mean, don’t want to leave there to be one thing on the planet you ain’t scared of right?”

“I should go live on a mountain and become a hermit monk.”

“Who passes for a woman? Wouldn’t that make you a hermit nun?”

“I’d be good at that.”

“You would.”

“I’d never have to worry about any...”

“Vaginas?”

Quaraun shook his head.

“You’re horrible, you know that?”

“So, is it the act of sex you’re scared of or just the thought of vaginas?”

“Uh... I don’t...”

“It’s both, isn’t it?”

“Would you kindly change the subject?”

“To boys? I like boys. I can talk about boys all day. You know there’s a new boy in town right?”

“What?”

“Do you like boys?”

“What?”

“You asked me to change the subject. I was talking about you not liking girls, now I’m talking about you is liking boys.”

“How is that changing the subject?”

“Instead of scaring you with hoo-hoos, I decided to scare you with ding dongs instead.”

“I hate those words.”

“Okay. Instead of scaring you with pussies, vaginas, and cunts, I decided to scare you with penises, cocks, and dicks instead.”

“Those words aren’t any better.”

“Quaraun, just answer the question.”

“What? No!”

“No, you’re not answering the question or no you don’t want to fuck with boy Elves instead of girl Elves?”

“I don’t want to... I ... I don’t do that with anyone regardless of gender. I don’t like sex, why can’t you get that through your head?”

“Is that because you’d rather be fucked then fuck?”

“What?”

“You do dress like a girl, Quaraun. Kind of stands to reason you might like being fucked like a girl.”

“How do you... what... where does your mind think up these things? I don’t like anyone that way. I have no interest in... I don’t want to do anything with girls or boys. I don’t want to do anything to or with anyone nor do I want anyone doing anything to me. It’s not something I want... It is... icky.”

“Icky?”

“Yes.”

“Icky. By the gods, do you even hear yourself? You are weird, Quaraun. How do you see sex as icky?”

“How do you see it as not?”

“Well, you’ve never had sex, so you wouldn’t even know!”

“And I never will.”

“Quaraun, I guarantee if you ever have sex with somebody, you’ll love it and not want to stop doing it and think you were crazy for not doing it sooner.”

“I don’t want to talk about... Can we talk about something else? Why are we talking about sex?”

“Oh! I got you to say sex.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because your father wants you to get married to one of the girls in your family, preferably all of your sisters, all at the same time, and sire lots of incestuous, inbred, pure blooded little Moon Elf babies and you are out here sitting on the front steps of the palace moping about it. That’s why.”

“Well, I’d like to get my mind off of my father and his plans for my life, so could you please, change the subject?”

“Okay. Let’s see... Oh! I know. This’ll cheer you up. You the one that’s crazy ga-ga over candy right?”

“What?”

“You like candy, yes?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Did you know there is a new shop in town?”

“Of course I don’t. I rarely ever get into town. My father never let’s me leave the palace, I might get infected with some non-Moon Elf friends and breath in some non-Moon Elf air. Or I might fall into bed with a non-Moon Elf and accidentally create some evil half-Elves. You know what my father is like.”

“Uhm... how do you fall into bed and accidentally create evil half-Elves? You do know there’s more to sex than that right?”

“I know how sex works BeaLuna. I just don’t want to do it.”

“Well, if you want to skip out on your father and come to town with me, I’ll show you it. It’s a real humdinger of a place. It’s a candy shop. The freaking building is made out of gingerbread.”

“Gingerbread?”

“Yep. It fell out of the sky one night....”

“Fell out of the sky?”

“Yeah, landed on somebody. Killed them.”

“Somebody was killed by a gingerbread house falling out of the sky?”

“Yeah. Cool, huh?”

“Uhm... BeaLuna, are you feeling okay?”

“Right as peachy rain.”

“You kind of ain’t been acting yourself. Less so now. It’s not like you to be joyful over death.”

“It’s the damned gingerbread. I’ve been eating it all morning. It makes my head feel weird, but than after it’s like, watch out!”

“BeaLuna. Faeries use gingerbread to drug people.”

“Cool!”

“No. It’s not. Where is this gingerbread house?”

“Out by the edge of the forest.”

“BeaLuna? What forest? There is no forest. This is Ivujivik. Its Arctic Tundra. We’re only a few miles south of the North Pole. There’re no trees around here for hundreds of miles.”

“Well, whatever. The gingerbread house is directly outside the forest. Right on the threshold of it. The guy lives in a damned gingerbread house.”

“You mean like a cake?”

“Yeah. Exactly it’s a ginormous cake.”

“Who erects a shop out of cake?”

“He calls himself BoomFuzzy. Your father would love him. Would loathe the guts off him. He’s loony as hell. He’s a half-Elf. I don’t recognize what the other half of him is. Crazy as a fricking loon. Well, what do you expect from a guy who lives in a freaking cake? The guy’s a nut job fruitcake. Just like you. You should hear him talk. He’s got this bizarre frigging accent. He’s like someone from up North or something...”

“North of here? What’s North of the Deep North? We’re even further North than Santa Claus.”

“I see him out there every day, icing his roof or planting gumdrops in the flowerpots. He’s stark bonking mad. The guy’s crazy as heck. You’ll love him, he’s as nutty as you are. He throws caution to the wind. Says to hell with standard Elven conventions. He’s only been in town for a few days. Your father is going to have a royal fit when he finds out a half-Elf has moved into the village. I don’t know who’s more irresponsible, you or him. You’d love him. Come on, I’ll take you out there. You’ll love this guy, he’s as nutty as you are.”

Minutes later, Quaraun stood on the other side of the village. He was standing on the outskirts of the Frozen Forest. Standing in front of a house made of gingerbread.

The walls were made of soft, spongy, coppery brown gingerbread loaves, iced with light, fluffy, ivory coloured vanilla buttercream.

The windows formed of fragile, paper-thin, golden yellow honey comb sugar barley.

The door of brittle bittersweet peanut butter brickle.

The front path was dark chocolate-covered cherry pebbles, sprinkled with nonpareils.

The trees and bushes made of rainbow coloured lollipops and pink and blue cotton candy.

The scent was intoxicating.

Molasses. Anise. Clove. Vanilla.

Licorice. Horehound. Peppermint. Wormwood.

Quaraun saw what everybody else saw. He smelled what every one else smelled.

The sugar crystals sparkling in the dusky evening sunlight.

The glistening, shimmering glaze.

The fluffy whipped cream.

Quaraun closed his eyes. He remembered these scents. Not so very long ago. On the road to Ivujivik.

King Gwallmaiic.

The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

Quaraun could hardly think.

The scent of the beast’s breath, hair, and body was intoxicating.

Molasses.

Anise.

Clove.

Cinnamon.

Vanilla.

Licorice.

Horehound.

Peppermint.

Wormwood.

Gingerbread.

Cake.

Honey.

Sandalwood.

Patchouli.

Frankincense.

Myrrh.

Hashish.

Opium.

Poppies.

It was like being in a candy shop, next to a bakery, beside an opium house. Quaraun wanted to melt away in the glorious delights of the creature’s enticing fragrances.

Quaraun opened his eyes.

He was here.

King Gwallmaiic.

In the village.

The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley had invaded Ivujivik.

And no one had noticed.

They couldn’t see what he’d done.

The cake, the food, the candy, the gingerbread… it was drugged.

The whole village was drugged.

Drugs plagued the entire city.

Caught.

Trapped.

Deceived.

Imprisoned.

Ensnared by The Elf Eater.

He perceived what they were experiencing.

But he could also see the truth behind the lie.

The cakes and candies flickered and shimmered, twist and turn, the horrible, spectral shadow, over a dark, grim, wicked, gloomy, terrible, terrible reality. Like ghost shadows, they twinkled and glowed in a dark.

Creepy shadows.

Scary cakes.

Fluffy cream.

“It’s not real,” Quaraun said the BeaLuna.

“What do you mean it’s not real?”

“It’s not real.”

“No? Looks real.”

“No, you are deceived, entrapped, ensnared.”

“Tastes real too.”

“Tastes?”

“Yeah.”

“You haven’t eaten any of it, have you?” Quaraun looked scared and sounded horrified.

“Of course. Why?”

“It’s drugged.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is.”

“You’re being paranoid again, Quaraun.”

“You can’t eat it.”

“Yeah, kind of too late for that. Almost everybody in the village has taken a bite out of his house. I did too.”

“Why?”

“It’s made out of gingerbread.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“It’s not it’s... it’s ghastly... it’s horrible... it’s made out of...”

“It’s gingerbread. It’s meant to be eaten. What else do you do with a gingerbread house?”

“Do you see a gingerbread house?”

“Yes, don’t you?”

“I... no... It’s not...”