Master Paul Simon Tellerman
August 04, 2008 11:44 AM
Midterm Recovery by Master Paul Simon Tellerman
With the advent of the new term, the weather had cleared and warmed enough that the snow from the blizzard began to melt. It was not, however, going away fast enough for Master Paul Simon Tellerman's taste. He had only a few months to whip the place into shape for the cultural fair. Snow and mud had no part in his plans for the Gardens."Put your backs into it!" he ordered, as he oversaw the elves assigned to shoveling out the paths. He snapped an imaginary whip in the air, but the lack of a sound effect bothered him, so he transfigured his scarf into one and repeated the action with his prop. He hit a little closer to one of the elves than he'd meant, but both the snappy crack and the startled yelp were satisfying.
Of course, now his neck was cold, but sacrifices had to be made.
He temporarily swapped the whip to his other hand so he could raise up his wand and cast another warming charm on the area. It dissipated quickly into the ambient chill of the January air, but every bit of melting and evaporation helped clear the blizzard's accumulation and Simon had no intention of lifting a shovel himself.
"Watch it!" he called in warning as one of the elves bearing a vision-blocking load of snow stepped toward a patch of ice but it was too late. The elf stepped on the frozen spot and his foot slipped up and he fell backwards with a great white explosion as the shovel full of snow went flying in all directions.
Simon sighed and wished the Founders had seen fit to model their weather charms on Southern California. He should probably get that ice away before an elf or student really hurt themselves. "Let me through, coming through, watch it. Hey!" The warnings weren't enough. Another elf hoisted up a shovelful of snow just as Simon drew even with her and the toss that should have sent the pile of snow harmlessly into the hedges instead went into the side of Simon's face and down under the collar of his coat.
Now he really regretted taking of his scarf.
She apologized profusely, of course, and began hitting herself on the head with her shovel. Shivering and trying to scoop the snow out of his collar before it could melt and drip freezing cold water down his neck and back, Simon tried to redirect her. This, of course, was the hardest part of the job. "No! It's okay. Keep working! I'm fine! Shovel! Clear the path, we need to keep working! Hey!" He snatched the shovel away from her, hoping that might make her listen.
"I said, hey! You are in the Third Order of Shovelers! Remember? So, shovel!" He shoved the winter tool back at her as she began nodding vigorously. He waited a few moments to make sure she actually started working again and then nodded approvingly. "Good. Keep at it."
"Alright, folks, show's over, get back to work, back to work, wait, not you, I'm coming through, excuse me, coming through." He managed to make it to the ice patch without further mishap and the elf that had fallen was already bowing and apologizing. He wasn't yet hurting himself, though, so that was promising.
"No, it's fine. Ice, I get it." Simon himself had fallen more than once already today. "Move up the path a little and I'll get rid of it. Keep working. Remember, if we finish this section before dark, I promised you guys a new song." Not that bribery was necessary for getting hard work out of prairie elves, but such stalwart fans were hard to come by and their appreciation was good for the ego.
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Master Paul Simon Tellerman
Midterm Recovery
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Master Paul Simon Tellerman
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