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In all, the village would never forget the Solstice eve of 9:40 Dragon. Preparations were in place for the following day, but around sundown, they became acutely aware of a figure lurking just past the shadowy line of the trees.
“A naked figure,” Erin swore when she whispered furiously to the guards. “Buck naked! Standing in the moonlight as bare as the day he was born! I only got a glimpse before he ran off.”
“Naked? Where's Adam? Is he drunk again?” the innkeeper 's wife grumbled unhappily, setting off to find her husband.
The guard scratched the back of his head, furrowing his brows. “Naked? Are you sure? Adam ain't drunk, he's... well, he's passed out, but I know where he is.” He didn't know where he was, but it was better to lie than face the innkeeper's wife's rage.
A scream echoed from the woods. The guard turned, hand reaching for the hilt of his blade. From the trees came two teenagers in various states of undress, evidently... interrupted.
“There's someone in there!” the girl screamed, waving her arms wildly towards the trees. “Me and Dan were just... picking flowers and then this man appears and tries to talk to us! He wanted Dan's clothes, so Dan punched him and Maker, he was naked. Do elven men really look like that beneath their clothes? Maker, those thighs...”
The poor guard raised his hands, eyes widening. “Wait! Explain slower! You were picking... flowers... and a man came along and asked for Dan's clothes?”
“An elven man! Well, first I think he was watching. Pervert! I mean... why would that be wrong? We were just, ah, picking flowers. I just... ah... wait, he um...”
Another scream echoed from the woods, and indeed, a naked man, Adam, came streaking into the village centre, hands clutching leaves to strategically hide his... bits. “Fucking elves!” he raved, half mad. “They want our clothes! They're coming! Buck-naked elves that steal your clothes! Lock up your wives and your children, the heathens are coming for your asses!”
“How many?!” What was going on?! Clothes-stealing elves-?
“Well I... only saw one, a male, but he was covered in blood! Like some heathen! He stood there, bits and all just dangling out, and demanded my clothes from the gestures he was making! When I said no, because hell no, he wrestles me to the ground and out of them! But I fought him off! I fought him off good and scared him away, the fucker.”
“He even took your smalls?!”
“I... well, no. I offered them to him after, terrified he'd force them off me as well!”
“So an elf didn't wrestle you out of your pants?”
“He did! He was like... the moon. I think he was the moon! I saw the moon. His head was so bright.”
The guard sighed and set his sword away. Drunk. He had to be. “Go back to your house – if you waste my time again, I'll lock you up for the night.”
“What about us?!” the half-naked, stricken youth squeaked next to her beau. “How can we go back in there now if there's clothes-stealing elves coming out at night? They're out to get us! Use us to rebuild their lost empire by taking our women!”
With a growl, the guard strode towards the line of trees. “You all are ridiculous. There are no clothes-stealing elves in there! Just watch!”
“Oh!” the leaf-clad man whimpered, “Don't do it! He'll take yours too!”
The guard dove into the dark trees, but there was nothing to be heard other than the soft noises of insects and animals in the undergrowth. Maybe it was some silly, childish prank they had decided to play on him? It wouldn't be the first time the inhabitants of the small village had done so.
“Ridiculous,” he scoffed, sheathing his blade.
A twig snapped behind him. “Ir abelas,” a voice grunted, hitting him hard over the head with something heavy.
The guard's impression of the disgruntled, bloodied and very naked elf that stripped him, was that he was angry about something. Maybe the bloodied nose he sported, or was it the lack of clothes? He was very... tall for an elf, but the pointed ears didn't lie. Plus he kept growling to himself (or him? He didn't understand the man) in Elven. Nonstop Elvhen. Not a single word in Common.
“Please!” the guard squeaked as the elf rammed his legs into his breeches, “I don't swing that way! I ain't never been that way! Not even when I was a lad! Please, Maker, don't let me be violated by some huge Elven lunatic in the middle of the woods.”
These humans were ridiculous, Solas thought in thinly veiled frustration. They all seemed to think that he was going to bend them over and up against a tree! First, the couple; he'd theorized that waiting until the young man had shed his clothes a good time to pounce (he would be much too busy to notice him, plus he seemed large enough to accommodate his clothing needs,) but oh no – he turned around at the most opportune moment and spied him in all his glory, sending both fleeing from the woods screaming. But not before the boy had clocked him straight in the face. Solas wasn't sure if his nose was broken or not. It felt like it was.
Only the girl's clothes were left, and he still had enough pride to leave them be.
Next up was the drunk. He wandered to and fro, wavering through the trees. It was easy to sneak up on him and confront him, asking with gritted teeth for his clothes. When he yelled at his crimson face, Solas lost his patience and tripped him up. If no one would be polite enough to help him in his state of undress, he'd take them instead.
But in the tussle, the clothes tore beyond repair. And Solas just found himself staring in disgust when the man shed his smalls and offered them.
Of all things to offer... the world had gone to the Void, the effects of the Veil forgotten.
Finally came the guard that came to see what all the screaming was about. Solas took no risks with this one, hitting him over the head with the length of wood he'd picked up nearby; the guard went down like a stone, spluttering like some dying animal the entire way down.
At least he apologized.
“Children!” he snapped to himself, ignoring the man's whimpered words as he stripped him. “Why do they keep clutching their backsides?! Like I would be interested in that!”
The guard, when he was left in nothing but his smalls, didn't turn on him. Solas just watched as he ran away, sobbing and still grabbing his infernal backside like it might fall off at any given moment. Once dressed in the slightly too big clothes, Solas turned away from the village and left it in peace.
None from the village ever stepped outside of the safety of their houses on a Solstice eve ever again, lest the Phantom Elf strike again, hungering after their clothes and backsides.