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struggling. This was a bad situation, and it was only going to get worse. However, if he didn’t let them do this, he most certainly would not make it home before his family did.
    “Okay, get it over with,” he said, closing his eyes and waiting.
    Vincent felt something attach to his cheek, then crawl over to his nose.
    “It’s a bug?” he asked as it entered his left nostril.
    “A ladybug,” Optar said, “treated to our magical specifications. Any insect can be used to create an obyon.”
    “Except roaches,” Grimbowl said. “They lay their eggs up there, and then you get bugs crawling out of your nose all the time.”
    Vincent thought he was going to be sick. The obyon climbed up his nasal passage, and settled itself far at the back.
    “Why don’t we test it?” Optar suggested. “Give the lad a taste of what he’s in for if he disobeys us.”
    “That’s okay!” Vincent said. “Really.”
    “No, it’s a good idea,” Grimbowl said. “Go ahead, Vincent. Do something disobedient.”
    “This really isn’t necessary … ”
    “Yes it is, Vincent,” Grimbowl said. “I order you to disobey me.”
    “No!” Vincent replied. “I won’t … aaagh!”
    The pain was like a red-hot poker exploding behind his eyes. Vincent had never in his life felt so much agony, and he had no desire to feel it again. Not that he’d desired it the first time.
    “That was a laugh,” Grimbowl said.
    “No it was not,” Vincent replied, redoubling his efforts to break free. “I did my part; I let you stick that thing in me. Now let me go!”
    “I order you not to struggle,” Optar said, and Vincent stopped instantly.
    “Fast learner,” Grimbowl said. “Hey kid, I order you to struggle.”
    “What?” Vincent cried. Then, “Ow!” when he didn’t immediately obey. He struggled, hoping the pain would stop, but it did not. The elves had given him conflicting orders; he couldn’t possibly comply with them both.
    “I order you to stretch your arms out!” Optar said.
    “I order you to do jumping jacks!” Grimbowl added.
    “I order you to do the waltz! With me!”
    Vincent tossed back and forth, screaming himself hoarse, wishing he were dead. The two elves continued to toss conflicting or impossible orders at him, and he thought his head would explode.
    “That’s enough.”
    The voice was deep and full of authority. Vincent looked in its direction, and saw an elf on the branch below him.
    “Hello, Vincent,” the new elf said. “I am Chief Megon. I see that my fellow elves have successfully inserted an obyon into your nasal cavities. Do you understand what we want from you?”
    “Yeah,” Vincent replied, the pain in his head waning. “You want me to be your slave.”
    “I would prefer to think of you as an ally,” Chief Megon said. “Albeit one who cannot be otherwise.”
    “So what do you want me to do?” Vincent asked.
    “Grimbowl will contact you when we require your services,” Megon said. “Optar, release him.”
    “Yes, chief,” Optar said, and he uttered some words that Vincent couldn’t understand.
    Then, the grass ropes binding Vincent suddenly lost their magic. Devoid of their strength, they could no longer hold Vincent’s weight. With several snaps they gave, and Vincent plummeted to the ground below.
    “Don’t hit the ground!” Grimbowl called after him.

Vincent Drear staggered home as fast as he could. One hand clutched at his head, the other at his sore rump.
    Vincent supposed he should have considered himself lucky. He could have easily broken his neck after his headfirst fall from the elves’ tree. Instead, he’d dropped down into a hedge, then fell from that to a harsh landing on his bum. Then, because he hit the ground against Grimbowl’s wishes, the obyon up his nose had launched another massive dose of pain.
    When he’d been able, Vincent had picked himself up and hobbled in the direction of home. The elves’ laughter followed him, and Vincent resisted the urge to