Page 13 - СКАЗКИ СНЕЖНОГО ЭЛЬФА

‘Alright. Let’s start with the background. I’m not an elf
originally, but my relations have blood of elves. My father
is the Water Sprite, his great grandma was one of the elves
and my mother is the Snow Queen by Herself. Honestly!
Look, I take after her a little. The same eyes.’
‘You don’t say! How come?’
‘Nothing special. Simply magic. It happened long ago;
people used to be wild then, impossible to tame. Had win-
ter come back in summer to take something left behind or
the Snow Queen felt a tad down and gave way to tears that
flooded all around – who knows?- but that was how they
met, the Water Sprite and the Snow Queen. Of course, the
Water Sprite couldn’t boast of being handsome, but he was
so brilliant at making poems that mermaids couldn’t help
crying. With those very poems did he conquer the snow
beauty, but different as they were, incompatible, their
romance did not last long. Yet I was born. To tell you the
truth, I can hardly remember my father –I’ve seen him just
a couple of times. He’s inclined to be at turf wars with mer-
maids or even to fool women sometimes. Such a mischief-
maker! I prefer to get along with my mum. She gave me a
helping hand to join a snow taking service. And you could
go lightly on my being so small. I can grow bigger, a bliz-
zard would make me huge. Even more, I’m the boss for all
those snow spirits, snowflakes and snowmen. Father Frost
and Snow Maiden are my close friends. Father Frost has
been weird lately; may fall asleep on foot or, all of a sud-
den, shake himself and get furious with someone. I’d say,
he is unpredictable; aging problems or so. Mum says he

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