An Important Father
“Yes, my Lord, I mean, yes Sir.” I went to leave but my Lady stopped me, “But you haven’t told us how your trip went.”
I stammered something about how I had enjoyed it, particularly the swimming. The Prince looked at me, raised his eyebrows, and said, “The swimming?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
But that didn’t satisfy him. Waving to a chair, he said, “Have a seat. I would know more of this.”
He turned to the boy on the ground, “Geoffrey, go fetch Tristan. And Jessica, as Heinrich will be here for a while, go and fetch your Brother”
We waited in silence, and then an Elf youth came into the room. I judged him to be about my age, although it was always difficult to tell with Elves.
“Tristan, this is Heinrich. Heinrich, this is Tristan, my Kolchnar. Now: I know that Dwarves are good storytellers. Tell us the story of how you, a Dwarf lad, went swimming.”
I settled back and, in my best storytelling mode, told him the story, much as I have already told it to you. I was just getting to the point where I was approaching my Sister when Greg came in.
“Excuse me for just a minute,” His Father said to me, and went over to his Son, removing his own belt.
Greg must have had a good idea what was coming, for he was already loosening his pants. It became clear that whatever advantages a Prince’s Son might have, avoiding discipline was not one of them. Several welts and admonitions later, the Prince said to his tearful Son, “Now, go sit by your guest and listen while he finishes telling us his story. It is a story that you should have been telling me yourself.”
So Greg came over and, most unwillingly, sat down. I would not have wanted to sit down in his condition. By the look in his eyes, though, I knew that he would be up and playing heartily the moment he was allowed. Truly it is written, “If you beat your son, he will not die.”
I finished my story and then I experienced, for the first time in my life, a grilling by an Elf. By the time he finished it wasn’t only Greg that was squirming. And then, without releasing us to go play, Tristan turned to Seth.
“This is a fascinating insight into Dwarf culture. I had no idea that it was a tension between the sexes that kept the Dwarf males clothed this whole time.”
“And a good thing, too, if you ask me!” Hadassah put in with a smile.
“But more importantly,” Tristan continued, “is what it says about the plan. It would be difficult to imagine any circumstances causing such an event six years ago, let alone the request of one young lad. As he says himself, his Mother could have raised much more strenuous objections. That he was invited to sleep with the Fisherboys and went….”
“Yes. Sleeping in the Fisherdorm was a shock for my wife, who was raised a Farmgirl, with our earthy ways. I cannot imagine what it was like for a Dwarf lad… or his Mother imagining it.”
At this Hadassah broke in. “Speaking of which, this conversation might be headed somewhere she would not appreciate. Shall we send the boys away?”
Nodding, the Prince waved us away. Greg leapt from his place, thought better of it and walked slowly to the exit.
“How was I to know they were in there? And I did introduce you, didn’t I?” he said, once outside, rubbing his tender areas.
“I think that perhaps they wished for you to stay around until the introductions were finished,” I commented gently.
“I was in the middle of a game! Oh well, I won anyway.”
Thank you for reading Von’s Substack. I would love it if you commented! I love hearing from readers, especially critical comments. I would love to start more letter exchanges, so if there’s a subject you’re interested in, get writing and tag me!
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Von also writes as ‘Arthur Yeomans’. Under that name he writes children’s, YA, and adult fiction from a Christian perspective. His books include:
The Bobtails meet the Preacher’s Kid
and
Arthur also has a substack, and a website.
Thanks again, God Bless, Soli Deo gloria,
Von
