Author's note: Read, enjoy, and review!
Disclaimer: I owe no-thing
"Holly, your ears."
"Very good, mud boy, elfin ears are pointed."
"No Holly, I meant, your ears." Artemis said while holding out a box of latex ears to Holly. The small girl obediently put on her ears. "You know I was on the internet the other day, and I find it quite amusing that humans would spend $29.95 for the ears of an elf, while the elf would do the same for a human ear," he chuckled to himself, "It's those stupid Americans, forever trapped in their world of fantasy made by Hollywood…that and plastic."
The rain had stopped now, and a lone bird was perched on a branch outside the teenager's window chirping its songs brightly to the world. A knock on the door sounded, followed by a deep, husky voice saying, "Artemis, you might want to see this." Butler, he thought. "Come in old friend. I believe you have with you a ransom note from our mischievous little pixie?" Artemis was as calm as always. "Yes…sort of." He answered hesitantly. "Sort of? Honestly Butler, thank the heavens you are not an open-heart surgeon. Was the operation successful, doctor? Yes…sort of." Artemis teased. The big man handed to the boy a disk. The boy studied it intently, as if he could distinguish what was recorded in the disk just by applying his solid-steel gaze. The disk caught light from the window, and reflected Artemis's face across its smooth surface. How much have you changed, he thought to himself, staring at his mismatching eyes. If only… He cleared his face of all thoughts, and finally said, "Father will want to see this, he is in his study."
Far away, possibly underground, Opal watched all this with a big smile of satisfaction spread across her face. This is only the beginning of the end, mud boy, she thought, and allowed for another wicked grin to takeover her face.
They made their way up to his father's study. Artemis Fowl Senior beat them to his door, and welcomed them in. "H-hello Holly," he stammered softly. "Mr. Fowl," she nodded politely, meeting his brief gaze. He sat down on his antique armchair. It was finely hand crafted in solid acacia wood with elegant foliate and shell like carvings, polished in striking dark walnut, on sturdy cabriole legs, beautiful velvet in a rich blue hue trimmed by brass nails. Definitely one of the earlier models. His hand firmly gripped the armrest, Artemis had noted. Nervous of course, I can't bring myself to remember a time when he wasn't.
"Father," Artemis handed him the disk and watched as his once strong father put it in the DVD player with trembling hands. Where's the cold businessman I used to know? He would be more helpful than a worried father right now. I shall schedule a talk with this heartbroken fool I call my father; this is certainly not the best time for an emotional stroll down the memory lane. Must I always be the one to do things right? Artemis Fowl senior sat down once again, this time with an old man's sigh. Butler pressed play on the remote control which he held firmly in his hand; and the silent, dark plasma screen suddenly bursted to life.
The video showed a little boy sitting on a chair, as still as the dead…