“Why are you going that way?” asked the dwarf.
The elf looked over his shoulder as he steered his horse toward the far lot.
“No place to park here,” said the elf. “I think I see a spot over there.”
The sun rose in the sky and the heat of the day was building. Just the sort of day to head to the shore and cool off. Evidently the same idea had occurred to everyone else in the realm and the fenced meadow by the beach was full of horses and ponies and those armadillos the weasels rode for some reason but which annoyed everyone else on the road because of a) how low they rode, and were thus easy to miss; and b) how slowly they traveled.
Row after row of animals and carts lined the meadow, and finally the elf found an empty slot near the very back of the last meadow.
“Harrumph,” said the dwarf, “we might as well walked from home at this location.”
“Oh quit your complaining,” said the elf with a smile, “we’re here, aren’t we?”
The dwarf was removing his chain mail, his rough tunic and wide leather belt, and exchanged his mesh pants and long boots for half-pants and Crocs. Then he put his oversized hat back on and added a pair of sunglasses. The overall effect was jarring.
The elf merely wore a tank-top and Speedo and looked good in it.
After a long, hot hike through the lot and onto the nearest entrance to the beach, past the crowded central shore full of rabbits with large families having picnics and playing games, strolling past the hobbits with groaning baskets of food, and finally past the volleyball nets with impossibly athletic elves making show-off shots, they found a reasonably empty spot and set down their rough-hewn blanket and sat down facing the shore.
“What’s that sign say?” asked the dwarf squinting an official post stuck into the ground some yards off.
“‘Danger! Sea monster sightings today, only swim where the lifeporpoises can see you.’”
“Oh, I won’t go out that deep,” nodded the dwarf.
They heard a sound and saw a weasel pushing a cart with a bell hung on its handle to attract attention. “Flavored ices!” said the weasel scanning the crowds for customers.
“Hungry?” asked the dwarf as he rummaged through the pack they had brought.
“Sure,” said the elf, “hand me some fruit.”
The dwarf handed him a greenish, glowing plant, and a cloth to serve as a napkin. For himself he pulled out a rack of ribs and began chowing down.
“Oh look, a dragon,” the elf pointed.
“Where!?” said the dwarf spinning around to that spot. Then he saw it was just a dragon kite flown by a small chipmunk.
“Made you look,” smirked the elf.
“Actually,” said the dwarf nonchalantly, “the dragon is right behind you.”
The elf leaped to his feet and spun 180 at the same moment, causing a group of foxes nearby to clap, only to realize as he came face to face with a dragon behind him that there was no cause for alarm.
“George!” the elf exclaimed as he threw his arms around the dragon’s neck. “We didn’t think you could make it today.”
“Change of plans,” said George the dragon, “so I thought I’d fly in and surprise you.”
“Great, join us,” said the elf.
“Hey, George,” asked the dwarf holding up his half-eaten rack of ribs, “mind heating this up for me?”