Bob, the elf, stretched out his limbs and yawned as the bud of his lily opened and embraced the sun. Rebirth! Finally. Time to play in the garden. His lily would be safe for a while.
In the distance, an itty-bitty human watched him.
Rude to stare. Two can play this game.
Bob stuck his tongue out. His opponent flipped him.
Bob started pointing and laughing.
The mortal-bull came charging towards the garden. With blood in their eyes, the monster-child stomped on the elf’s lily.
“You little sh—”
Bob perished with his petals. Game over. His soul connected with a new lily seed. A replay waiting for next spring.
According to German folklore (or at least this website), every lily flower is born with an elf. When the flower dies so does the elf. At least the legend, real or not, saved me from writing about goddess Hera’s breast milk…
More elf/fairy shenanigans can be read here.