A Wild Night

In which three unintentionally errant elves drag a sleep-deprived orc on a car chase to perform a matrimonial ceremony.

One night's sleep. Sleep, uninterrupted by anything more bothersome than fire; that's all he wanted...

Zuhrog woke to the smell and squeal of burning rubber. Grumbling and still half asleep, he levered himself up to one elbow and managed to hook his fingers over what felt like a broken car window. Upon cracking an eye open, it was indeed a broken car window. The vehicle hit a sidewalk. His head hit the roof—and left an indent. After a quick glance at the night city-scape zipping by them, Zuhrog turned to the driver. “Ruven.”

A male elf with a long, multi colored ponytail and a spike in his right ear jerked at the steering wheel. “So, don’t eat the ‘ead off me,” he began, shouting over the squealing, crashing, and the wind. “The original plan were a night at the skate rink.” He held up his right hand and counted off on his fingers. Somehow he managed to avoid a group of drunk jaywalkers and a parked police car with just one hand on the wheel. “We made a right bag o’ that. The cousins got into a cat burglary, that turned int’a a car chase, and now I need you to officiate.”

Zuhrog shoved against the passenger chair so he had room to move. It bent forward with a creak and a crack. He leaned forward, breathing down Ruven’s neck. “Where’s my truck?”

“Ah, take the puss off yer face!” The elf scrunched down as far as he could without losing sight of the road. “The…the cousins have it.”

Ignoring the honks of the cars around him, Ruven slammed on the gas and shot into an intersection. A silver Ute with monster truck tires squealed into the lane behind them. Zuhrog twisted the rear view mirror. There was a long white scrape as wide as he was on the left side of the truck. The driver—a grinning dusk-colored elf with black hair and several piercings on the right side of her face—twiddled her fingers at him. Cop lights flashed some distance behind. Two people fought, moving between the roof and the bed of the truck. “Who scratched it, and why is one of them sparring a changeling?”

“ ‘E’s the groom! As soon as she breaks the compulsion spell on ‘im, feel free ta do yer thing.”

“Who scratched it?”

“How bad is—” Ruven nudged Zuhrog’s hand aside and adjusted the mirror. “—oh. That’d be Law.” The car hit the raised ramp of a pickup truck. “Hang on!” The car struck the ground. The remaining window on the passenger’s side cracked. Zuhrog’s head left another indent in the roof. Ruven whooped.

Zuhrog grunted. “This is impressive for a Veloster.”

“This is Chaos’ ride. Law bought it for ‘er, she modified it.”

“The one I’m officiating for?”

“Yer bang on!” He yanked the wheel to the right. The truck followed. The sirens faded.

“Ruven. You’re heading to the freeway.”

“Where else am I gonna find a stretch a road long enough fer ya to do yer thing?”

“There’ll be a barricade.”

“So long as it’s official by then, I don’t mind.”

Grumbling obscenities at the drivers of both vehicles, Zuhrog went to kick the door open. The truck jerked into the lane next to them. Law glared at him. He glared back. “It’s coming off, one way or the other.” He gripped the edges of the window and began bending it inward. Law presumably started screaming at him, the way her mouth was moving. “Tit for tat!” he bellowed back. Once the hole was large enough for him to climb out of, he did so, clawing his way to the roof of the Veloster. Its roof was half-level with the truck bed. Since the elf and blue-skinned changeling were no longer sparring, he assumed the spell was broken. Gritting his teeth at the thought of slipping and splatting to the pavement, he reached over, gripped the bed of the truck, and swung himself inside.

The dark elf, the twin of her sister, looked happy beyond all reason. It was unsettling enough that Zuhrog had to swallow before he could properly speak. “What vows?”

Clasping their hands together and pulling in close, Chaos shouted, “Human’s usually quickest!”

Judging by the flashing lights they were zooming towards, quick would be prudent. Zuhrog opted for the most informal vows he knew. He took his wallet out of his back pocket (it had his certification as an officiator) and held it in front of him. Chaos placed her right hand on the wallet. “Chaos, do you take this changeling to be your husband, and vow not to murder him in his sleep?”

The changeling rapidly blinked his amber-red eyes. A crackling megaphone could be heard now. The vehicles slowed.

“I do!” Chaos took the changeling’s hand and put it on the wallet.

The changeling tugged at his collar. “Er, my name’s Colrim.”

“Do you, Colrim, take this dark elf to be your wife?”

Chaos pulled the changeling in and gave him a fierce kiss. The truck stopped.

Gasping, Colrim pulled away. He wrapped his arm around Chaos’ waist. “Yes!”

Zuhrog tucked his wallet back into his pocket and held his hands in the air. “Congratulations, you’re married.” He turned and gave Ruven a thumbs up.

The elf responded by honking and whooping until the cops yanked him out of the car. “My cousin finally got married!” He laughed, and his accent became thick enough that the humans hauling him to a vehicle looked thoroughly confused. “That’s nice buddy. Duck your head, or don’t.”

A pair of goliaths came towards the truck. One of them went towards Zuhrog—the happy couple had already hopped out of the truck and slid into the backseat of the nearest vehicle without any prompting—while the other peeked into the truck. “No one.” He sniffed. “Smell enchantment. Driver here somewhere.”

Zuhrog obediently dismounted. Judging by the thin fingers of dawn creeping over the mountains behind the city, the elves had stayed out of trouble for about four hours. Doubtless they’d be out of jail before lunch. Well, everyone except for him. Law would probably leave him for a day or two. Not that he minded; maybe he could catch up on his reading. And sleep. He was tired of being dragged out of bed for things like this.