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Description
Ozward Chapter 1

One afternoon as usual, Iandore 'Ian' Wilden Lightfoot hurried home from school, his boyfriend not so much scampering as SPRINTING beside him. They were both sweating, panting, and out of breath, looking back as if they were afraid somebody might be following them- although this time it wasn't a biker gang of sprites. No; it was worse.
"He- He isn't coming yet, Barley! Did he- did he hurt you?" gasped Ian as he and Barley stopped to rest for a moment, the younger and thinner of the two pale-blue-skinned teenage elves reaching up and running his small long-fingered hands through what the thicker one's black dwarf-like beanie didn't cover of his long-ish wavy hair that was nearly the same azure-blue shade as Ian's shorter unruly curls and rubbing his broad back. Despite what had just happened, Barley seemed to be okay- though Ian scowled and muttered "He *TRIED to*, didn't he?" upon seeing the upset wince still on his boyfriend's handsome rounded features. "Come on!" he said decisively after pressing a quick kiss to Barley's stubbled cheek. "We'll go tell Mom- Corey too, if she's there. C'mon!"
*
When Ian and Barley reached the Lightfoot household, they were about to go inside when they heard Ian's mom Laurel Lightfoot doing yard work outside in the back, so they changed their direction, finding her clipping one of the flower bushes. "Mom! Mom! Mom, just LISTEN what Officer Bronco *did* *and SAID* to Barley-!"
"Ian, honey, please; I'm trying to prune here."
"Wha-?! But Mom, he *HIT him* over the HEAD with a-!"
"Sweetie, don't bother me right now. After I finish this job, I need to head inside and pay some bills."
Ian was so upset that she wasn't listening that he tried to take the gardening shears out of her hand as Barley then spoke up. "Hey, Ian, wait; don't do th- Never mind. Mrs. Lightfoot, Ian's upset due to my being hit right over the back with Officer Buzzkill's nightstick (or is that *DAY-stick* right now since it's daytime?) just because he says 'the screw-up' gets in his garden and chases his nasty old dog every day."
"*Ian*- Barley, PLEASE!"
"But I *DON'T do it* EVERY day- just, like, once or twice a week. And I can't catch his old dog, anyway."
"Barley, that's neither TRUE *NOR* *funny*! I love you, I really REALLY *do*, but this is *NOT* *at ALL* the time for jokes right now. *And NOW* he (Officer Bronco, I mean, not Barley) says he's gonna-!"
"*Iandore*! *I'm busy*!" exclaimed Laurel exasperatedly, though her eyes that were the same shade of caramel-chocolate-brown as Ian's if not the same shape still held a kind glint as she finished clipping her hollyhocks.
"*Mama*, REALLY- *you KNOW* what Officer Bronco said to he was gonna *DO* to Barley?! He said he's going to-!"
Laurel sighed heavily and wiped off her glasses to clean them, then replacing them and patting one of Ian's skinny shoulders with one small plump hand and running the other through her colbalt locks cut short, gently tapping one of Barley's ankles with the toe of her sneakered foot. "Now, Ian sweetie- you too, Barley, STOP *IMAGINING things*. You *ALWAYS* get yourself into *a FRET* over NOTHING; and while Colt may *still* have problems with you, Barley, I am QUITE *sure* that he would *NEVER* do anything of the kind that you *clearly* insinuated and that you DIDN'T."
"No-," Ian tried to protest yet again, but Laurel that day had neither the time nor patience.
"Now you boys just help me out today, please and thank you, and find yourselves a place where you WON'T get into *ANY* trouble."
With that, Laurel strode in the back way, leaving Ian staring miserably after her and Barley sighing and shaking his head. "Someplace where there isn't *ANY trouble*..." the former mumbled.
As the two teenage elves slowly lifted their heads to look at each other, Ian questioned clearly but still softly while tossing a cheese puff to Barley from a packet he'd taken out of his dad's sweatshirt pocket and opened (no 'Aloft Elevar' needed this time), "...Do you suppose there is such a place, Barley?"
"There *MUST be*," agreed Barley almost dully yet hopefully, deep sage-green meeting bright caramel-chocolate-brown.
"It's not a place you can get to by a car, bus, plane, boat, or train, though. It's far, FAR *away... behind the moon- beyond the rain... -Somewhere over the rainbow..."
Almost as though that last sentence were a cue, Ian took out something else out that was in his sweatshirt pocket: a small portable cassette player. When he pressed PLAY and turned the volume up, Wilden Lightfoot's kind soothing tenor-bass voice drifted out from the speakers as Barley walked over to Ian, gently embracing him in his big arms.
~"-Someplace where there *isn't* *ANY* TROUBLE... Do YOU suppose there *is* such a place, Ian? -There *MUST be*. Though, it's not a place you can get to by a boat or a train; it's far, *FAR away*... Behind the moon- beyond the rain..."~
(Although Wilden Lightfoot had been a TERRIBLE dancer in life, the elf accountant had been a *WONDERFUL* *singer* until his voice no longer worked.)
~"Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high,
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby...

Somewhere over the rainbow,
Skies are blue;
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do *come true*...

Someday, I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are
Far behind me;
Where troubles MELT like *lemon-drops*,
Away above the chimney-tops-
That's where you'll find me...

Somewhere over the rainbow,
Bluebirds fly
-If *BIRDS fly over the rainbow*,
Why, then;
*Oh, WHY* CAN'T *I*...?

-If happy little bluebirds fly
BEYOND *the RAINBOW*,
*WHY*, *oh WHY*, can't- I...?"~
.............................................................................................
While the two elf boys listened to the sweet but sad song on the cassette, Barley laid his cheek against Ian's soft hair as the younger laid his head against the elder's shoulder. During the middle, Ian turned around in Barley's embrace and leaned up just enough on his tiptoes so that they were cheek-to-cheek, softly nuzzling- gently scratchy stubble against soft smooth skin. Near to and at the very end, Ian cupped Barley's face at the same time Barley's larger hands cradled his own. They leaned in slowly together and sweetly kissed, Ian moaning softly at the feeling of Barley tenderly cupping the back of his head with the hand that was no longer in a cast with the other still gently cradling his lightly freckled cheek, Barley making the same noise in response from the sweet taste of his sweet beloved and also enjoying Ian caressing his face as they kissed.

But while Barley and Ian were 'spooning' while wishing that there were someplace where there wasn't *ANY* TROUBLE, trouble was actually driving their way in the form of a disapproving pinch-lipped, steely-eyed centaur who also happened to be 'Mom's boyfriend'.

Description
Ozward Chapter 1

One afternoon as usual, Iandore 'Ian' Wilden Lightfoot hurried home from school, his boyfriend not so much scampering as SPRINTING beside him. They were both sweating, panting, and out of breath, looking back as if they were afraid somebody might be following them- although this time it wasn't a biker gang of sprites. No; it was worse.
"He- He isn't coming yet, Barley! Did he- did he hurt you?" gasped Ian as he and Barley stopped to rest for a moment, the younger and thinner of the two pale-blue-skinned teenage elves reaching up and running his small long-fingered hands through what the thicker one's black dwarf-like beanie didn't cover of his long-ish wavy hair that was nearly the same azure-blue shade as Ian's shorter unruly curls and rubbing his broad back. Despite what had just happened, Barley seemed to be okay- though Ian scowled and muttered "He *TRIED to*, didn't he?" upon seeing the upset wince still on his boyfriend's handsome rounded features. "Come on!" he said decisively after pressing a quick kiss to Barley's stubbled cheek. "We'll go tell Mom- Corey too, if she's there. C'mon!"
*
When Ian and Barley reached the Lightfoot household, they were about to go inside when they heard Ian's mom Laurel Lightfoot doing yard work outside in the back, so they changed their direction, finding her clipping one of the flower bushes. "Mom! Mom! Mom, just LISTEN what Officer Bronco *did* *and SAID* to Barley-!"
"Ian, honey, please; I'm trying to prune here."
"Wha-?! But Mom, he *HIT him* over the HEAD with a-!"
"Sweetie, don't bother me right now. After I finish this job, I need to head inside and pay some bills."
Ian was so upset that she wasn't listening that he tried to take the gardening shears out of her hand as Barley then spoke up. "Hey, Ian, wait; don't do th- Never mind. Mrs. Lightfoot, Ian's upset due to my being hit right over the back with Officer Buzzkill's nightstick (or is that *DAY-stick* right now since it's daytime?) just because he says 'the screw-up' gets in his garden and chases his nasty old dog every day."
"*Ian*- Barley, PLEASE!"
"But I *DON'T do it* EVERY day- just, like, once or twice a week. And I can't catch his old dog, anyway."
"Barley, that's neither TRUE *NOR* *funny*! I love you, I really REALLY *do*, but this is *NOT* *at ALL* the time for jokes right now. *And NOW* he (Officer Bronco, I mean, not Barley) says he's gonna-!"
"*Iandore*! *I'm busy*!" exclaimed Laurel exasperatedly, though her eyes that were the same shade of caramel-chocolate-brown as Ian's if not the same shape still held a kind glint as she finished clipping her hollyhocks.
"*Mama*, REALLY- *you KNOW* what Officer Bronco said to he was gonna *DO* to Barley?! He said he's going to-!"
Laurel sighed heavily and wiped off her glasses to clean them, then replacing them and patting one of Ian's skinny shoulders with one small plump hand and running the other through her colbalt locks cut short, gently tapping one of Barley's ankles with the toe of her sneakered foot. "Now, Ian sweetie- you too, Barley, STOP *IMAGINING things*. You *ALWAYS* get yourself into *a FRET* over NOTHING; and while Colt may *still* have problems with you, Barley, I am QUITE *sure* that he would *NEVER* do anything of the kind that you *clearly* insinuated and that you DIDN'T."
"No-," Ian tried to protest yet again, but Laurel that day had neither the time nor patience.
"Now you boys just help me out today, please and thank you, and find yourselves a place where you WON'T get into *ANY* trouble."
With that, Laurel strode in the back way, leaving Ian staring miserably after her and Barley sighing and shaking his head. "Someplace where there isn't *ANY trouble*..." the former mumbled.
As the two teenage elves slowly lifted their heads to look at each other, Ian questioned clearly but still softly while tossing a cheese puff to Barley from a packet he'd taken out of his dad's sweatshirt pocket and opened (no 'Aloft Elevar' needed this time), "...Do you suppose there is such a place, Barley?"
"There *MUST be*," agreed Barley almost dully yet hopefully, deep sage-green meeting bright caramel-chocolate-brown.
"It's not a place you can get to by a car, bus, plane, boat, or train, though. It's far, FAR *away... behind the moon- beyond the rain... -Somewhere over the rainbow..."
Almost as though that last sentence were a cue, Ian took out something else out that was in his sweatshirt pocket: a small portable cassette player. When he pressed PLAY and turned the volume up, Wilden Lightfoot's kind soothing tenor-bass voice drifted out from the speakers as Barley walked over to Ian, gently embracing him in his big arms.
~"-Someplace where there *isn't* *ANY* TROUBLE... Do YOU suppose there *is* such a place, Ian? -There *MUST be*. Though, it's not a place you can get to by a boat or a train; it's far, *FAR away*... Behind the moon- beyond the rain..."~
(Although Wilden Lightfoot had been a TERRIBLE dancer in life, the elf accountant had been a *WONDERFUL* *singer* until his voice no longer worked.)
~"Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high,
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby...

Somewhere over the rainbow,
Skies are blue;
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do *come true*...

Someday, I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are
Far behind me;
Where troubles MELT like *lemon-drops*,
Away above the chimney-tops-
That's where you'll find me...

Somewhere over the rainbow,
Bluebirds fly
-If *BIRDS fly over the rainbow*,
Why, then;
*Oh, WHY* CAN'T *I*...?

-If happy little bluebirds fly
BEYOND *the RAINBOW*,
*WHY*, *oh WHY*, can't- I...?"~
.............................................................................................
While the two elf boys listened to the sweet but sad song on the cassette, Barley laid his cheek against Ian's soft hair as the younger laid his head against the elder's shoulder. During the middle, Ian turned around in Barley's embrace and leaned up just enough on his tiptoes so that they were cheek-to-cheek, softly nuzzling- gently scratchy stubble against soft smooth skin. Near to and at the very end, Ian cupped Barley's face at the same time Barley's larger hands cradled his own. They leaned in slowly together and sweetly kissed, Ian moaning softly at the feeling of Barley tenderly cupping the back of his head with the hand that was no longer in a cast with the other still gently cradling his lightly freckled cheek, Barley making the same noise in response from the sweet taste of his sweet beloved and also enjoying Ian caressing his face as they kissed.

But while Barley and Ian were 'spooning' while wishing that there were someplace where there wasn't *ANY* TROUBLE, trouble was actually driving their way in the form of a disapproving pinch-lipped, steely-eyed centaur who also happened to be 'Mom's boyfriend'.