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A Night of Burns
A story of Elfhame
© 2026 by Walter Reimer
Blame assigned to
EOCostello
Thumbnail by
tegerio, color by 
Major Matt Mason
Ten
The road was marked off with lit torches, which certainly made it easy to find our way, and after I stopped and helped Anastasia off the cart I noticed that there was a huge gathering of Elves, roes and wolves, around the main square. I also spotted a few of the inhabitants of the Widdershins Country.
There were more torchbearers lighting the square with Sergeant MacGonagall in his full Gray Horde uniform standing in front of the door of the mead hall.
He caught sight of me, and I felt a slight scratching at my Elf-mind. “Master? Are ye there?”
“Sergeant?” I asked. “I didn’t know you knew Elf-mind.”
“Heh,” came the snorted reply. “Show me a Sergeant that doesn’t know Elf-mind, an’ I’ll be showin’ ye one as ain’t worth his stripes.” His mental tone grew serious. “There’s a rite comin,’ where I’ll bar th’ door an’ ye’ll have ta hit me.”
Hit him, eh? I haven’t hit a sergeant in years, so I grinned and, stepping away from Anastasia, I approached the door.
The big wolf moved to bar my path. “An’ who d’ye think ye are?” he demanded loudly. A murmur and a few chuckles arose from the crowd.
I braced up facing him, and raised my voice. “I’m the Laird of Glenallid,” I declared. “Let me in.”
MacGonagall crested in sneering contempt.
I slugged him, as hard as I could, recalling how Prince Erik had greeted his grandfather Laird Cuthred. ‘Beat or be beaten’ is the Grand Duchy’s ethos, after all.
The bigger wolf’s head snapped hard to the right and he staggered a half-step before straightening up. He glared at me for a brief moment before he said, “Enter, Laird,” and swept the door open, stepping back to let me pass. As I walked past him, I nodded at him in respect. I once floored a whitetail who actually challenged me to hit him, and it took a few minutes for him to get back on his hooves.
The hall was filled with tables and chairs, with one table set perpendicular to the others with seats reserved for me, Anastasia, and the leaders of the new village. My mate was shown in and I held her chair for her before I was led away by MacGonagall and a slightly bulkier wolf with a gold earring in one ear and clad in a mixture of feral furs and silks.
MacGonagall gestured for quiet after everyone was seated. “In t’sight o’ t’Great Alpha,” and he paused as several wolves howled, “an’ in th’ sight o’ t’Pantheon,” and the Wanderers gave a soft howl with some musical rattling of tambourines, “we o’ Glenallid welcome an’ invest Westersloe Winterbough, Fifth o’ his Name, as our Laird.”
The applause was general, along with whoops, howls, and not a few roebuck barks before both of the wolves facing me gestured for quiet. “Master o’ Elfhame, take upon yerself these tokens o’ yer authority o’er us,” and MacGonagall offered a feral hawk feather and a dirk in a leather and steel sheath.
Recalling what I saw a few lairds wearing in Crag of Dens, I removed my glengarry and inserted the feather before putting it back on. The dirk was a work of art, and I stuck it in my the belt of my kilt.
MacGonagall swept off his own glengarry and bowed deeply while Roman, the headman of the Wanderers, gathered me into a strong embrace and kissed me on both cheeks as all the villagers cheered. We then took seats as several wolves came in bearing cups and flasks of aqua vitae, pouring drinks for all the adults. Others came in to give cups of water to the cubs and fawns in the room.
“T’nacht we celebrate our new Laird, an’ t’nacht we revive an auld tradition, that o’ th’ Night o’ Burns,” the Sergeant said, “but afore we go on I gie ye all this piece o’ advice.” He surveyed everyone at the tables. “I ask ye tak nae offense at anythin’ said, fer ‘tis all t’th’ honor o’ t’Alpha, an’ tis meant t’be ta’en in guid part.” There was a short interval of muttering and he asked, “An’ who among th’ men’re t’stand up an’ gie th’ Welcomin’ Toast ta th’ Ladies?”
The roebucks, most of whom were there with their wives, wisely kept silence, while some of the wolves conferred. Suddenly Ranulf, the largest among the ex-Prisoner’s ranks, got to his feet and planted his paws on his hips. “I’ll tak th’ honor, I shall,” he said, giving the other mels in the room a glance as if daring them to object.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that there were no takers.
As he reached down and picked up his full cup of aqua vitae, Anastasia reached out to me with her Elf-mind. “You said this was going to be insulting?”
“Afraid so, but it’s traditional, and meant to be good-humored.”
“Is he married?”
“He has two wives,” I said.
Anastasia’s ears swiveled and her smile broadened. “This I have to see.”
Ranulf raised his cup, hooking a thumb into his belt. “Fer starters, I thank th’ Great Alpha, fer givin’ all th’ Elves in th’ Shinin’ Land th’ gift an’ power o’ talkin’.” He favored the two wolfesses on either side of him with an affectionate glance and said, “’Twas pity t’Her She gave same power t’women.”
Ever heard the phrase ‘thunderous silence?’
Yeah, like that. The does at the tables crossed their arms as one and lowered their ears as Ranulf followed that sally up with, “There’s a legend told ‘round where I’m from ‘bout th’ lad who finally figured out women. ‘Tis true, but he died laughing afore he could tell anybody.”
A few wolves laughed at that, while some of the wolfesses just looked at him with bemused expressions as he continued to speak. The bucks, including myself, were doing our level best to keep a straight face. Some of the roebucks might make remarks like that at the [Sheaf] or in the fields or on the other side of the [Stranger’s River], but never in the presence of any Elfhamian doe.
Me? I kept my Elf-mind locked down so tight I could hardly hear myself think. Anastasia, who had been told that this was all in fun, had her ears straight down.
Ranulf kept going, flinging barbs about the time women spent primping, their chatter, their belief they were better than men, and finally raised his cup of aqua vitae. It frankly amazed me that he’d managed that sober, and at the end he shouted, “Here’s t’ th’ ladies, Alpha bless ‘em!” He tossed down his drink, let out a thunderous howl as the wolves (and, surprisingly, the wolfesses) all applauded. The big wolf sat down and hugged both of his wives.
I saw the look the two wolfesses gave each other. Ranulf would be in for a rough time of it after the dinner.
“An’ who is it among ye, that’ll gie th’ Toast t’ th’ Men?” MacGonagall asked.
The ears of every wolfess and doe in the room perked simultaneously and they started looking at each other. I could sense a storm of Elf-mind rising from each table, but I didn’t dare eavesdrop. I like my whitefur unsinged, thank you very much.
After a few moments, Anastasia nodded her head.
Uh-oh.
There was a round of applause as the Wolf Queen stood up. She favored the room with a grin that was equal parts glee and acid.
Uh oh.
[url=]<NEXT>[/url]
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
A story of Elfhame
© 2026 by Walter Reimer
Blame assigned to
EOCostelloThumbnail by
tegerio, color by 
Major Matt MasonTen
The road was marked off with lit torches, which certainly made it easy to find our way, and after I stopped and helped Anastasia off the cart I noticed that there was a huge gathering of Elves, roes and wolves, around the main square. I also spotted a few of the inhabitants of the Widdershins Country.
There were more torchbearers lighting the square with Sergeant MacGonagall in his full Gray Horde uniform standing in front of the door of the mead hall.
He caught sight of me, and I felt a slight scratching at my Elf-mind. “Master? Are ye there?”
“Sergeant?” I asked. “I didn’t know you knew Elf-mind.”
“Heh,” came the snorted reply. “Show me a Sergeant that doesn’t know Elf-mind, an’ I’ll be showin’ ye one as ain’t worth his stripes.” His mental tone grew serious. “There’s a rite comin,’ where I’ll bar th’ door an’ ye’ll have ta hit me.”
Hit him, eh? I haven’t hit a sergeant in years, so I grinned and, stepping away from Anastasia, I approached the door.
The big wolf moved to bar my path. “An’ who d’ye think ye are?” he demanded loudly. A murmur and a few chuckles arose from the crowd.
I braced up facing him, and raised my voice. “I’m the Laird of Glenallid,” I declared. “Let me in.”
MacGonagall crested in sneering contempt.
I slugged him, as hard as I could, recalling how Prince Erik had greeted his grandfather Laird Cuthred. ‘Beat or be beaten’ is the Grand Duchy’s ethos, after all.
The bigger wolf’s head snapped hard to the right and he staggered a half-step before straightening up. He glared at me for a brief moment before he said, “Enter, Laird,” and swept the door open, stepping back to let me pass. As I walked past him, I nodded at him in respect. I once floored a whitetail who actually challenged me to hit him, and it took a few minutes for him to get back on his hooves.
The hall was filled with tables and chairs, with one table set perpendicular to the others with seats reserved for me, Anastasia, and the leaders of the new village. My mate was shown in and I held her chair for her before I was led away by MacGonagall and a slightly bulkier wolf with a gold earring in one ear and clad in a mixture of feral furs and silks.
MacGonagall gestured for quiet after everyone was seated. “In t’sight o’ t’Great Alpha,” and he paused as several wolves howled, “an’ in th’ sight o’ t’Pantheon,” and the Wanderers gave a soft howl with some musical rattling of tambourines, “we o’ Glenallid welcome an’ invest Westersloe Winterbough, Fifth o’ his Name, as our Laird.”
The applause was general, along with whoops, howls, and not a few roebuck barks before both of the wolves facing me gestured for quiet. “Master o’ Elfhame, take upon yerself these tokens o’ yer authority o’er us,” and MacGonagall offered a feral hawk feather and a dirk in a leather and steel sheath.
Recalling what I saw a few lairds wearing in Crag of Dens, I removed my glengarry and inserted the feather before putting it back on. The dirk was a work of art, and I stuck it in my the belt of my kilt.
MacGonagall swept off his own glengarry and bowed deeply while Roman, the headman of the Wanderers, gathered me into a strong embrace and kissed me on both cheeks as all the villagers cheered. We then took seats as several wolves came in bearing cups and flasks of aqua vitae, pouring drinks for all the adults. Others came in to give cups of water to the cubs and fawns in the room.
“T’nacht we celebrate our new Laird, an’ t’nacht we revive an auld tradition, that o’ th’ Night o’ Burns,” the Sergeant said, “but afore we go on I gie ye all this piece o’ advice.” He surveyed everyone at the tables. “I ask ye tak nae offense at anythin’ said, fer ‘tis all t’th’ honor o’ t’Alpha, an’ tis meant t’be ta’en in guid part.” There was a short interval of muttering and he asked, “An’ who among th’ men’re t’stand up an’ gie th’ Welcomin’ Toast ta th’ Ladies?”
The roebucks, most of whom were there with their wives, wisely kept silence, while some of the wolves conferred. Suddenly Ranulf, the largest among the ex-Prisoner’s ranks, got to his feet and planted his paws on his hips. “I’ll tak th’ honor, I shall,” he said, giving the other mels in the room a glance as if daring them to object.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that there were no takers.
As he reached down and picked up his full cup of aqua vitae, Anastasia reached out to me with her Elf-mind. “You said this was going to be insulting?”
“Afraid so, but it’s traditional, and meant to be good-humored.”
“Is he married?”
“He has two wives,” I said.
Anastasia’s ears swiveled and her smile broadened. “This I have to see.”
Ranulf raised his cup, hooking a thumb into his belt. “Fer starters, I thank th’ Great Alpha, fer givin’ all th’ Elves in th’ Shinin’ Land th’ gift an’ power o’ talkin’.” He favored the two wolfesses on either side of him with an affectionate glance and said, “’Twas pity t’Her She gave same power t’women.”
Ever heard the phrase ‘thunderous silence?’
Yeah, like that. The does at the tables crossed their arms as one and lowered their ears as Ranulf followed that sally up with, “There’s a legend told ‘round where I’m from ‘bout th’ lad who finally figured out women. ‘Tis true, but he died laughing afore he could tell anybody.”
A few wolves laughed at that, while some of the wolfesses just looked at him with bemused expressions as he continued to speak. The bucks, including myself, were doing our level best to keep a straight face. Some of the roebucks might make remarks like that at the [Sheaf] or in the fields or on the other side of the [Stranger’s River], but never in the presence of any Elfhamian doe.
Me? I kept my Elf-mind locked down so tight I could hardly hear myself think. Anastasia, who had been told that this was all in fun, had her ears straight down.
Ranulf kept going, flinging barbs about the time women spent primping, their chatter, their belief they were better than men, and finally raised his cup of aqua vitae. It frankly amazed me that he’d managed that sober, and at the end he shouted, “Here’s t’ th’ ladies, Alpha bless ‘em!” He tossed down his drink, let out a thunderous howl as the wolves (and, surprisingly, the wolfesses) all applauded. The big wolf sat down and hugged both of his wives.
I saw the look the two wolfesses gave each other. Ranulf would be in for a rough time of it after the dinner.
“An’ who is it among ye, that’ll gie th’ Toast t’ th’ Men?” MacGonagall asked.
The ears of every wolfess and doe in the room perked simultaneously and they started looking at each other. I could sense a storm of Elf-mind rising from each table, but I didn’t dare eavesdrop. I like my whitefur unsinged, thank you very much.
After a few moments, Anastasia nodded her head.
Uh-oh.
There was a round of applause as the Wolf Queen stood up. She favored the room with a grin that was equal parts glee and acid.
Uh oh.
[url=]<NEXT>[/url]
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Deer
Size 120 x 106px
File Size 61.2 kB
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