Lurk

Elemanzar, or Lurk as he is called, is an imp. He is a familiar; a minor being tasked with the guardianship of Tumbledown. Lurk is not photogenic, and to my knowledge this is the first time he has ever been photographed. He hates the camera now and if I pull it out of my pocket he will vanish into those dark crevices that he calls home.
I think it was the flash that startled him, possibly pained him, with those huge eyes of his.

Imps, I later discovered, are related to Fairies. Yes, Fairies. Not the tall, human-like, Tolkienesque fairies that you have seen in films. But the small, ephemeral creatures possessed of a child-like beauty. Imps and the other entities I later learned about are not evil, per se. They can learn to be evil, true enough, or even driven to evil. But for the most part they can be best described as selfish. Most of the Eld (those creatures of myth) are different from man in that they are selfish. The concept of helping another being is alien to them, much like the concept of true evil is foreign to most men.

What is evil? True evil?

A person, an entity, that derives pleasure from the deliberate inflection of pain upon another can be said to be truely evil. There are variations, shades of evil, that fall short of the actual participation required of the Soulless Ones. The Eld are just selfish to the point of cruelty, but not truely evil.

When Lurk had finished his milk and honey, he licked his lips with a horrible smacking sound and with a quiet whisper spoke. "The master commanded me to give this to you."

and with that, Lurk reached through the fieldstone and pulled out a book and key. I did not recognize either, but I would later come to hold both very precious. It was the monograph of my Great Uncle Edgar.

Clutching it in both of his twisted, clawed hands, Lurk leapt from the fireplace to my lap in a great bound and slapped the monograph against my chest. I could feel the dull claws of Lurks toes digging into my legs and smell the honeyed milk on his breath. My heart beat like a sparrow trapped in a cage at his closeness.

"Take it take it take it" Lurk hissed, thrusting the leatherbound journal against my chest. With trembling fingers, I grasped the rough leather.
Lurk turned and leapt back to the fireplace.

"You should make a fire," Lurk spoke, his black eyes glinting in the grey light "I would like that."

Hours later, Lurk was curled in front of a warm fire while I sat in Edgar's favorite high backed chair and read his monograph.