In one corner of Mamaw’s garden was a rambling sweet honeysuckle vine. It covered the entire corner. The vine part was a beauty, twisting and turning into itself. But when it was in bloom, it was something to behold. Mamaw said it’s scent could make a sensible person surrender anything on the right night.

            And so it was one evening the sweet scent of honeysuckle filled the air as AnnaBelle made her nightly rounds to say goodnight to the garden.

            She trotted past the oak tree.“Good night, good Oak,” she said, Her fingertips grazed the leaves as she passed by. The sweetness of the spidery yellow flowers gripped her. She went over to the corner and sat down.

            She was dreaming happily when suddenly she saw something stir. At the base of the honeysuckle vine, amongst the branches, a figure less that one third her size appeared.

            “Oooooh ahhh youuu?!?!?” It asked, with an echo.

            “A-A-AnnaBelle,” She replied.

            The olive skinned being stared at AnnaBelle with emerald eyes.

            “Aye know yer name. Ooh do you bee-long to?” His voice was full and thick.

            “I-uh-well,” AnnaBelle stammered. “This is my mamaw’s garden.” She stated finally.

            The elf eyed her carefully.

            “Oh, yees, like her you seem.” He said, walking around her clockwise. “Yees, yees, quite thee shine ya’ ‘ave,” the elf stated. “ ‘ou are veery loud though, and nottoo graceful.”

            AnnaBelle was shocked by the criticism. She felt graceful.

            “Pretty rude for having just met me,” AnnaBelle told him.

            “ ‘Ou ahre roode, coming ‘ere unannounced.”

            His coat and trousers were made from honeysuckle leaves. His trousers were held up by suspenders made out of tendrils from the vine.

            “For your information, I come by here every night.” AnnaBelle suddenly felt defiant.

            “Aahs Ah ‘ave noticed, mah-deahr.” His voice lilted slightly. “Ah come later usually. Been meanin’ to meetcha at a time tho’.” The elf’s voice dragged with an accent like a leprechaun. “ ‘Ou ahre a shiny ‘un,” he said again. He paced to and fro in front of AnnaBelle.

            “Well now, I have been here this long, shouldn’t I know your name, too?”

            AnnaBelle was so curious. Did the elf live here? Was he trespassing? Is he dangerous? A zillion thoughts rushed past her mind like a school of ocean fish.

            “Well, mee callin’ name is Torunda.” He bowed slightly as he said it.

            AnnaBelle curtsied and said, “My name is AnnaBelle, pleased to meet you. Do you live in this garden?”

            “Eet’s not fer yer knowin’,” Torunda replied abruptly. “Thaat’s a fetchin’ bloo strand in yer ‘air, wee one. Made of what, ees eet?”

            AnnaBelle touched the bright blue ribbon in her hair. It was a luxurious satin ribbon, slick and rich. She loved the color and the ribbon. It was especially dear because her Papaw had brought it to her from town just because he thought it would make her eyes look pretty.

“Why, thank-you, Tonrunda. It is one of my favorites.” She replied.

            They stood for a moment, sizing each other up. The gloaming had arrived, and things were beginning to take on a new face. The scent of the honeysuckle drenched the damp air, and evening was falling with the dew.

            AnnaBelle was fascinated with the wild being. Torunda was so different from most of her garden friends. He was rugged and woodsy, almost savage somehow. AnnaBelle’s curiosity trumped any fear. So she sat on a rock to quiz this new being further.

            “If you do not know I live here, then you should not be here.” She told the elf. “You must state your business.”

            The elf suddenly seemed younger, softer somehow.

            “Della Noelle, maternal mother she bee.” Tonrunde replied.

            AnnaBelle’s eyes grew wide. Her head was light and fluffy from the odor of the honeysuckle. It was her Mamaw’s grown-up name, at least the Della part she knew for sure. How could he know?

            “You know my mamaw?” Her words were light and soft.

            “Ah-ya, Della, knowin’ her many yeahrs now. Used to veesit her by the green creek, a bit from thees place, not fahr. Beeutiful girl, enchanting woman.” Tonrunda reminisced. “Much as yerself.”

            AnnaBelle swelled with pride. Her beauty compared to her mamaw, how could she be so beautiful? She thought longingly of her mamaw as a girl, youthful and limber as she.

            “Oh, how sweet of you!” She beamed at Torunda. “You are a wise elf.” She smiled.

            “Ahh, yees, smahrt Ah bee. Ah do so love yer r-r-reebon, ees that how ya’ call it?” He asked, pointing to her royal blue hairpiece.

            “Isn’t it so lovely?” AnnaBelle stroked the silky ribbon. “Where are you from? I want to know all about you.”

            The wild, coy elf seemed to be nicer the longer AnnaBelle sat with him. Night was fast approaching and she knew she would have to be going. The honeysuckle seemed to be dripping its scent all over her. The entire world seemed to be covered in it.

            “Please, oh, please,” AnnaBelle pleaded. “Just one small thing for me to know you by. I must be going right now before evening is gone and night comes.”

            Torunda looked the light and lively girl over. He rubbed his pointy ear, studying the golden haired girl. He had to have that blue ribbon. His hazel eyes flashed as he concocted the lines to get AnnaBelle to release her ribbon.

            “Well, Ah suppose Ah could tell ya’ of dee times when Ah first saw yer Motha-Motha. Eet was many a night ago.”

            “Oh yes,” AnnaBelle breathed, frightened she might scare him before he got his story told.

            “Eet was a beeutifull sommer nahght, clear and warm.” Torunda began his tale.

            By this time the spell of the honeysuckle had captured AnnaBelle. She was listening, rapt, mouth agape, hanging for the next word.

            “What color was her dress?” she asked anxiously.

            “A pear-fect kelly green,” he replied.

AnnaBelle noticed a hint of longing in his voice.

            “She had hair the color of sunshine, and a fetching green ribbon to hold it back.”

            “What did you say to her?” AnnaBelle was "on her ear". She must know all the details. Every second her Mamaw has spent with this elf she wanted to know.

            “Missy, well”, Torunda said. “Ah must ask ya fer sumpin in return for mah storeee. Aftah all, Ah coulda jest watched ya go byie like allwees. But Ah stopped. Eff ya weesh for the rest of the tale, ya must geeve me a token to carry on.”

            AnnaBelle thought just a moment before Torunda said, “Sumpin lack yer bright blooh reebon prehap?”

            AnnaBelle’s heart skipped. Papaw’s ribbon….how could she? Her heart and mind were reeling. The honeysuckle had rendered her senseless and her curiosity just pushed her forward.

            “Oh, all right” AnnaBelle gave in. “If I give you my ribbon, you will finish this story and tell me more?”

            “Of coooourse, mah deeerah”, Torunda replied smiling.”I’ll tell you sooo much.”

            AnnaBelle untied the ribbon, pulling it through her hands. It felt heavy and smooth. She did not want to let it go.

            “Here!” She thrust the ribbon toward the leathery elf. It flipped in the dusky breeze.

            With a pointy finger and thumb, the elf took the ribbon from her innocent chlid’s hand.

            “Ahhhh, as lovely to feel as to see.” Torunda stroked the glowing blue ribbon. Then he twirled it over his head twice, winked at AnnaBelle, then disappeared into the honeysuckle vine.

            For an eternity and a flash, AnnaBelle gazed at the base of the honeysuckle vine. She was paralyzed at first, disbelief had gripped her.

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