Excerpt: The Sarcastic Little Elf

The land of Threa was a simple place unfettered with the philosophies of an age with no time for philosophy. It was a land not ruled by machinery or time pieces where magic still held sway with its inhabitants.
It was a land peopled with a most colorful menagerie of creatures, beasts and, yes, people. There was little conflict between the folks, the people got on very well with the beasts and all of the creatures were of a similar mind. The hobgoblins had the fairies over for tea, the lion frequently laid with the lamb and the trolls had a standing Thursday trivia night with the Smithfeild family on Pratchet Lane.
In short, Threa was a happy place.
The source of this happiness was a small, pulsing stone which existed somewhere deep inside a cave in the middle of the deepest wood and camouflaged with a sign reading, “Not the cave of the pulsing stone.”
The secret to the stone’s power was lost long ago along with the identity of those who created it and any and all warranty information that may once have existed, but all of the residents of Threa believed in its power completely and thus left it in the charge of Threa’s most powerful yet benevolent inhabitants, the elves.
Elves were born with absolutely no magic at all and remained so throughout their childhood. As they matured their magic revealed itself to them and they discovered their true calling. Some of them had the ability to grow things and they spent their days helping the trees of the woods and the plants of the gardens to thrive and grow tall and strong. Others had the gift of song and communicated with the birds of the air who brought their message far and wide. Still others were gifted with the power of harmony and worked long and hard to ensure that the river lay in its bed and that the sky cease where the land began.
And then there were those with the power of protection. These were the elves charged with guarding the pulsing stone. No creature in all of Threa could stand against an elf with the power of protection, no spell would enchant them and no weapon known to the land could pierce their flesh.
They were very good at what they did.
Regardless of which power an elf possessed, every elf began to develop his or her power around the age of twenty and the power grew in strength for the rest of the life of the elf. There were no exceptions to this – none save for Lindor.