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I woke up with a splitting headache and sat up with a groan.
“Where am I?” I said to myself, looking around. I started. There were creatures peeking at me from behind trees. I could not call them humans or animals, for they were neither, though some more-or-less resembled one of them. I saw unicorns, dwarves, and what looked to be elves. I even saw a pegasus!  But still, I had no idea where I was and cried out in alarm.

One of the Elves, who looked to be the leader, stepped toward me.

“Who are you?” he asked, “and where do you come from?”

“I’m Mercedes Benz,” I replied, “and I’m from earth. And the real question is, where am I?”

“Mercedes, that’s a queer name.”

Wow, I said to myself, they must be old fashion if they use that word here.

“And to answer your question,” he continued, “you are in Gaus. I have never heard of your earth before. How rude of me, I have not introduced myself. I am Gayin, king of the Elvin.”

So that’s what they are.

“Can you get me back to my world?”

He looked thoughtful, “No, I cannot, but King Cranaus Ismail might. He is the king of a race like yours and all the kings and crowned princes have sorcery powers.”

“Can you bring me to him?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes, but first I must get you some clothes. It is shameful to be seen in such garb.”

I looked down at my jeans and tank top. I wondered what was wrong with my clothes until I looked at Gayin. He was wearing a forest green shirt and dull brown pants. His clothes looked like something Robin Hood would wear. No, they looked more like the clothes of Tolkien’s elves. Do all Elves dress like this? I wondered if they were as agile as Tolkien’s Elves.

Gayin started speaking again. “Now you cannot wear the clothes of our woman. They are not the garments of your race and I do not believe they would fit you anyways.”

I took offense at his at first but then realised how fair in stature this Elvin was. If they were all like that, including their women, there was no way I would fit in their clothes, as thin as I was. Hight wouldn’t have been a problem, as I was short for my age, only five foot three inches, but they were much too slender.

“But clothes will be no problem,” he continued. “We shall just take you to Mistress (need to find name still) She is a tailor who specializes in dresses and will certainly have your size for she always has much clothing ready for unfortunate souls who are in need of garb. Follow me and we’ll give you a unicorn. It’s a two days ride from here.”

I followed him to his village, which I had landed by, and they gave me a black unicorn, whose name they told me was Spartan, to ride. While they were grabbing provisions, I looked around me. The village was small, unlike Tolkien’s great Elve cities, but the houses were nice and they seemed to lack nothing. Small children, who were playing in the streets, stopped their games to gaze at me. I must have been a strange sight to behold in my deemed ‘unfit’ clothing.