THE ELF WHO SAVED CHRISTMAS
A (Sweet) Horror Novella
by
Rebecca M. Senese
SMASHWORDS EDITION, 2011
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PUBLISHED BY:
RFAR Publishing on Smashwords
The Elf Who Saved Christmas
Copyright © (2011) by Rebecca M. Senese
Cover Design copyright © (2011) by RFAR Publishing
Cover art copyright © Leosynapse/SXC.hu
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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THE ELF WHO SAVED CHRISTMAS
Giljagaur didn’t mind the constant sunlight at the North Pole during the summer months as much as the other Elves. Whenever they had to go outside, traversing the short distance from the Elf dormitories to the workshop or the reindeer barn or even Santa’s house (a special occasion whenever that occurred) they always donned blackout sunglasses and wrapped thick strips of fabric over their heads. It was as if they thought the sun would burn them or something, Giljagaur thought. He’d shake his head at them, his thin spindly ears almost flapping at the movement. It wasn’t like they were vampires. They were Elves, for Santa’s sake!
Gil (as the other Elves called him) actually enjoyed the sun. It made a nice change from the constant darkness of winter, although he enjoyed that too. The bright sparkling stars shining above them in the constant night sky of winter always seem to be counting the days to Christmas, in Gil’s mind. The bright sunlight of summer signaled a brief respite from the flurry of preparation leading up to Christmas. Until the end of July, they worked on slow summer hours, allowing for extra leisure time and the occasional visit to Santa’s house for cookies. Mrs. Claus always baked too many in the summer. Gil suspected she was a little bored and made the additional cookies on purpose as an excuse to have them all visit. It must be hard for her when Santa took his annual fishing trip in mid June, Gil thought. The cookies always seemed to multiple when Santa was away for a month.
Gil stepped out of the dormitory. His worn leather boots crunched on the snow. He squinted against the sunlight. Although his friend Kertasnikir insisted he carry a pair of blackout sunglasses Gil refused to put them on. He loved the sparkle of the sunlight on the white snow. Sometimes he even spotted a polar bear lumbering across the ice in the distance.
He heard Kertasnikir’s grunt from behind him as the older Elf joined him.
“Another sunny day,” Kert said. “Why can’t we even get clouds?”
“Don’t worry,” said Gil. “It’s already July 5th. Work will start gearing up soon and you won’t even notice the sunlight.”
Kert adjusted the blackout sunglasses on his bulbous nose. His white mustache shifted as he pursed his lips. “Can’t come soon enough for me.”
Gil laughed, a deep rich sound that emanated from his belly. He almost sounded like Santa when he laughed, a fact he was immensely proud of.
He clapped a hand on Kert’s shoulder. “Let’s clean out the reindeer stalls then. Give you something to do.”
Kert grunted again, frowning and sour-faced. But his hurried step betrayed his own enthusiasm as they headed for the barn. No matter how much he grumbled, Gil knew that Kert loved to work, loved to be useful.
He just also loved to moan about it.
A bright flare of light greeted them as they opened the barn door. Kert yelped, shielding his eyes even with the sunglasses.
“Settle down, Rudolph,” Gil said. His eyes watered and he blinked to clear them. The sound of stomping and snorting filled the barn. The reindeer were as anxious for winter as the Elves. As his eyesight cleared, Gil found himself staying by Rudolph’s stall. The reindeer poked his nose through the wooden slats. This time, his nose glowed a dull red, not the wild flash of bright light to light up the night. Gil scratched the reindeer’s muzzle, eliciting a snort of approval.
“We should get the mucking done before we feed them,” he said to Kert.
“Is the back fence bubbled?” Kert said.
“Better make sure,” Gil said. “I don’t want to have to chase them through the air again. Last time Donner almost made it to Greenland.”
At the sound of his name, Donner stomped his foot and tossed his narrow head. Almost half a head smaller than the other reindeers, Donner made up for it by being mischievous.
“Yeah,” said Kert. “I’ll check.” As he walked down the main path through the barn, he wagged his finger at Donner as he passed the reindeer’s stall. Donner tossed his head up.
“It’s already July 5th,” Gil said to the reindeer. “Santa should be back from his fishing trip in a few weeks. We’ll start gearing up for Christmas soon.”
A chorus of snorts, stomping and tossed heads greeted this announcement.
A moment later, Kert returned, pushing the sunglasses up his bulbous nose. “The bubble’s intact. Let’s take them out.”
One by one, they opened the stalls and lead the reindeer out to the bubbled paddock area. Santa had created and installed the bubble after the first attempt to let the reindeer out for fresh air had resulted in them all flying off in different directions. Now they could only fly so far and so high before they bumped into the bubbles edge. Most of them were so used to it they didn’t even bother to check the bubble’s activation except for that troublemaker Donner.
Sure enough, as Gil released Donner’s bridle, the reindeer leapt into the air, heading straight up. He soared high, ten feet, twenty feet. Gil watched and then nervously wondered if Kert was right about the bubble working but then at fifty feet, Donner bounced back from some invisible force. He snorted and headed back to the ground. Gil breathed a sigh of relief.
Gil and Kert headed back into the barn, leaving the reindeer to frolic and play in the snow, safely contained in the paddock. As they worked, Stufur wandered in, the blackout sunglasses looking huge and bug-like on his narrow face.
“Hey guys,” Stufur called. “Do you need some help?”
Gil popped his head up, standing on tiptoes to see over the wall of Blitzen’s stall. “Sure Stu, grab a shovel.”
The little Elf scurried over to scoop up a shovel and pitch in. It just showed how bored they all were, Gil thought. Normally no one liked to muck out the reindeer’s stalls.
Over the next ten minutes a few other Elves wandered in, looking for something to do and within twenty minutes, they’d finished the mucking, spreading new hay on the stall floors for the reindeer. Stu made a big fuss over measuring the feed for each reindeer, making sure all the amounts were the same. No wonder he was one of the quality control Elves, Gil thought.
Coaxing the reindeers back into the barn took a longer time. Donner, being mischievous, leapt into the air, flying around the circumference of the bubble until all the other reindeer except Rudolph leapt up to join him. Gil rubbed Rudolph’s neck.
“You show them who to follow, Rudy,” Gil said.
Rudolph snorted and stomped his foot. Gil squeezed his eyes shut. Still he saw the flash of light on the insides of his eyelids. Soon, other snorts and pawing feet sounded around him. He opened his eyes. The other reindeer fell in line behind Rudolph, even Donner.
Gil grabbed hold of Rudolph’s bridle and led him back into the barn. The other reindeer followed, and the Elves herded them into their respective stalls. They distributed the feed bags and soon the barn filled with the sound of hearty munching.
Gil stepped back, nodding to Kert and Stu. A job well done! The Elves smiled at each other in satisfaction.
The sound of crunching snow came from outside the barn. Redda appeared in the doorway, his thin spindly legs pumping fast. He skidded to a stop in front of Gil.
“Santa’s back!” he said. “He’s back early!”
A cheer erupted around Gil. Before he could say anything to Redda, the other Elf turned and raced from the barn. The other Elves streamed after him.
Gil grabbed Kert’s arm, stopping him before he left. “Isn’t that strange,” Gil said. “Santa never cuts his fishing trips short.”
“He did this year,” Kert said. “We can get a jump on the season. Let’s go!”
He pulled away from Gil and scurried out of the barn. Gil shrugged and followed.
The voices of excited Elves drifted toward him on the cold breeze. Gil rounded the workshop and headed toward Santa’s house and the sound of the voices. The sunlight seemed especially bright today, gleaming on the snow with a white vengeance. Gil found himself squinting more than usual. He almost considered putting on the blackout sunglasses.
The crowd of Elves ahead of him distracted him from the blazing snow. Although none of them reached higher than four feet, many leapt into the air, arms waving, the fabric covering their heads falling away, revealing pointed ears and flapping hair. Many wore tunics and pants of plain, muted colors, not at all like their work clothes. Even against the white snow, these muted colors blazed forth, a parade of beige, pale green, soft blue, faded red and anemic yellow. Their cheer echoed over the snow until the man standing on the porch of the sprawling one story house raised his arms, gesturing for calm.
Gil’s own heart beat faster as he saw Santa smile across the crowd of Elves. Santa still wore his fishing hat. White curls poked from underneath. His beard was trimmed close to his face. Over the next few months, he would let it grow to its Christmas time version of bushy, soft whiskers but in the off season, he kept it neatly trimmed.
He looked incongruous in his khaki fishing jacket and denim pants although the red scarf tied around his neck gave him just a touch of Christmas.
Behind him, Mrs. Claus stood just outside the door, wearing her traditional red dress with white apron. A stylish red bonnet tied beneath her chin. Only a few curling strands of white hair escaped the bonnet and accentuated her heart-shaped face. She held her hands folded in front of her. Her gaze fixed on Santa and a slight smile curled her mouth.
“Thank you for the kind reception.” Santa’s voice boomed over the Elves’ heads. “You’re probably wondering why I came home earlier than usual this year. I’ve decided to get a jump on Christmas. The fish were biting well and I reached my quota so I thought, let’s do the same up here. Let’s make this the best Christmas ever!”
Another cheer erupted from the Elves. They waved their arms and stomped their feet. Small puffs of snow tickled Gil’s nostrils as he cheered along with the rest of them, only taking a brief moment to rub his nose.
Santa held out his arms again for calm. The noise died off.
“We’ll start work bright and early tomorrow,” he said. “For tonight, we’ll have a special feast. Mrs. Claus will be cooking up all the delicious fish I caught and you’re invited to join us. Seven o’clock in the dining hall. Bring your appetites!”
The Elves cheered although Gil noticed Mrs. Claus raised her eyebrows. That was quite a big job for her, he thought. Maybe she could use some help. Santa gave a final wave and disappeared into the house. As the Elves dispersed, Gil moved forward. He leapt up the stairs, grabbing the edge of Mrs. Claus’s apron as she turned to follow Santa.
“Mrs. Claus,” Gil said. “Do you need some help in the kitchen?”
She turned back to him and a smile brightened her face. “Why Gil, that’s so thoughtful. I could certainly use some help in the kitchen. Would you mind peeling potatoes?”
“Not at all, ma’m,” he said.
She smiled again and gestured for him to follow.
* * * *
Even with his magical speed, peeling potatoes was a long, monotonous task. For every potato he peeled it seemed another two appeared in the pile before him. He narrowed his eyes at the pile as he grabbed the next spud.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” he said, wagging the peeler. “I’ll finish you.”
At the oven, Mrs. Claus bent to turn the fish under the broiler. Her hand flipped at a dizzying speed. “Did you say something to me, Gil?”
“No, ma’m. Just telling the potatoes to behave.”
“You tell them Gil.” She snapped the oven shut and turned to the pot on the stove. “Since you’ve been such a wonderful help, I’m going to give you a special piece of fish. What do you like?”
“Oh none for me, ma’m,” Gil said. “I’m allergic to seafood.”
She paused before dipping the steamer into the pot of boiling water. “I didn’t realize that. And here you are being such a help.”
Gil grabbed another potato to hide his blush. “No problem at all, ma’m.”
Mrs. Claus set the steamer into the pot and closed the lid. “Well, I’ll just have to make you something else.”
“Oh don’t go to any trouble for me.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “I can’t have you only eating vegetables and salad while everyone else gorges on fish.” She opened the refrigerator. “I recall that you liked my special baked macaroni and cheese, didn’t you?”
The peeler in Gil’s hand almost missed the potato. His mouth automatically drooled at the thought of her baked mac and cheese with three different cheeses, so densely baked you had to cut it with a knife. “Oh yes, ma’m.”
“I just happen to have some here. I hope you don’t mind leftovers.”
Gil felt faint and was grateful he was already sitting down. “No, ma’m.”
She turned back, holding a casserole that contained a slice of heaven, as far as Gil was concerned. “Then you’ll have a special dinner in our special dinner.”
She set the casserole dish on the counter and they continued preparations for the meal.
Eventually the pile of potatoes succumbed to Gil’s onslaught. Mrs. Claus produced another huge pot and filled it with water. Soon the potatoes were boiling away and afterward, Gil had the pleasure of mashing them to bits. Mrs. Claus added a touch of cream and some basil, turning the potatoes into succulent mounds of mashed potatoes. As Mrs. Claus presented the finished fish to the cheering table of Elves and Santa, Gil brought in the massive bowls of potatoes.
The dining room, normally accommodating up to eight, had magically expanded to allow all two hundred and twenty-two Elves a seat. Santa sat at the head of the table with Mrs. Claus’s seat to his right. Gil’s own seat was farther down between Kert and a sour-faced Elf named Gattathefur. But even Gatt was smiling on this auspicious day.
Bowls of food stretched down the length of the table. Mrs. Claus had set out the special Christmas plates, beautiful white embossed with a pattern of pine branches and red bows encircling the edges. The beautiful red velvet table cloth tickled the top of Gil’s legs. He set the green napkin on his lap. Huge plates of broiled fish moved along the table, followed by lemons and butter. But Gil had the best meal of all, in his opinion. The leftover mac and cheese sat majestic and delicious in the center of his plate.
To his left, Gatt speared two pieces of fish and then handed the platter to Gil.
“None for me, thanks,” Gil said. He passed the platter to Kert on his right. Even the brief whiff of fish turned Gil’s stomach.
“Here, take this,” Gil said to Kert.
“Oh yes, I’ll have extra.” He grabbed the platter and added another chunk to his plate before passing the platter down.
Gil bent over his mac and cheese, inhaling the rich aroma. Granted, he didn’t like fish because it gave him hives but the aroma had never smelled so bad to him.
He was just becoming more sensitive to it. He’d heard that could happen.
He shrugged and dug into his mac and cheese.
* * * *
Although the celebration dinner lasted late into the evening, the work day started early the next day. Even Gil wanted those blackout sunglasses after the libations of the night before but he couldn’t bring himself to put them on.
He squinted into the bright sunlight reflecting off the snow. Normally he loved this view, but today as he hurried after Kert, his head pounded, although not as badly as some of the other Elves he could see. Most hung their heads low, almost doubled over as they hurried to the workshop. Once inside, they kept the lights low as they made their way to the workshop benches.
Santa appeared soon after everyone was settled. A huge smile spread across his jolly face. His round cheeks became rounder with his smile. His eyes twinkled under the white fringe of his hair.
“I’ve got new plans for this year’s toys. You’ll see copies at your work stations. I know you’ll work extra hard this year to make it the best Christmas ever!”
The cheer from the Elves was a little less enthusiastic than usual but they all turned to work with diligence.
Gil found the new plans a little odd. All day, they bothered him as he hammered and sawed and assembled. He couldn’t figure out what exactly was the problem but it nagged at him. He tried to mention it to Kert but Kert gave him a puzzled frown before turning back to the toy tank he was working on. Gil dropped it but the unease festered inside.
After the shift, he headed over to the barn to muck out the reindeer. He’d been assigned muck duty this week and although it wasn’t normal to put in a full shift at the same time, he relished the time alone with the reindeer. They snorted and scratched at the hay as he wandered up and down the stalls, patting noses and mumbling to them. Rudolph’s nose glowed a brighter red as Gil rubbed his neck. His nose butted into Gil’s chest as if he knew something was wrong with the Elf.
“I’m just having an off day, Rudy,” Gil said. “It isn’t anything to worry about.” He tied the reindeer to the post in the hall as he shoveled out the stall and brought in new hay. Then he led the reindeer back into his stall. Rudolph snorted his disapproval.
“Sorry I can’t let you guys out into the paddock tonight,” Gil said to each reindeer as he finished their stall and led them back inside. “We had a full work shift today. I’ll make sure the day shift Elf lets you out tomorrow.”
Snorts and stomped feet as well as the occasional butt with a nose seemed to indicate they expected he would fulfill this promise. Under the reindeer glares, he finished filling the feed bags and delivering them to every stall.
“I promise, I really do,” he said.
Finally the reindeer accepted his pronouncement and they bent their heads to eat.
Gil trudged back to the dormitory in the bright sunlight. Normally it didn’t bother him that it always seemed like noon when it was almost nine o’clock at night but for some reason, tonight it irritated him. He’d been irritated all day he realized and he couldn’t quite figure out why. A good night’s sleep would take that away, he thought. Things would be brighter in the morning.
And with twenty-four sunshine, they couldn’t help but be brighter.
By the time he undressed, washed his face and scrubbed behind his pointed ears, all the other Elves in his ward were tucked into bed. Strange that they would be so silent. There was always a bit of rough housing and nonsense at bedtime. Chatter across the aisle, someone throwing a pillow at someone else to shut them up or argue a point. Once a full scale pillow fight had broken out with strategic forts and battle lines. They hadn’t gotten to bed until almost four that night.
But now just after nine, the beds were full of sleeping Elves. Soft snores filled the room as Gil crept down the aisle to his bed at the back. Even Bitahaengir and Frodusleikir, the two main forces behind Operation Pillow Fight and ones never to fall asleep before midnight lay conked out on their respective beds. Bit’s mouth hung open eliciting a soft honking snore. Frodus lay curled on his side, hands tucked under his chin.
Must be the effect of the big celebration and a full day’s work, Gil thought as he reached his own bed. He stowed his folded clothes in the trunk by the foot of the bed. In the morning, they would be magically cleaned and pressed. He never had any need of another outfit.
He crawled under the sheets and pulled them up to his chin. Beside him in the gloom, he could see Kert sleeping on his right. Redda slept on his left. No one to say good night to, Gil thought, and no one to wish him a good night.
“Good night,” he whispered into the darkness.
No one answered.
* * * *
Another early morning found them heading for the workshop again after a fast breakfast in the mess hall. Gil lingered over his juice while Kert was already picking up his own tray to carry it to the disposal. He then headed for the door.
“Hey, wait for me!” Gil said. Kert turned and made an impatient gesture. Gil gulped down his orange juice and ran to catch up.
Everyone hurried through breakfast faster than normal, Gil noticed. Even during the crunch times, the Elves made sure to have a hearty breakfast and linger a little over coffee. Sometimes it was the only break they had, having to often work through lunch, grabbing half a sandwich that appeared on the desk beside them. But not this morning. No one lingered over coffee. Even before Kert left, almost half of the Elves had finished and headed for the workshop.
Strange, Gil thought, especially since they’d started so early this year.
As the pace of work took hold, he forgot his concerns.
The day stretched on and they finally finished after six o’clock. The Elves dragged themselves out of the workshop and headed for the mess hall. Just as he reached the door, the cloying scent of fish reached his nostrils.
“Oh boy, left overs!” Kert said. He pushed past Gil to hurry inside. The other Elves also streamed into the mess hall, eager to enjoy the fish again.
Hadn’t they eaten it all at the celebration, Gil wondered. He didn’t remember seeing any leftovers. Maybe Santa had caught more than enough for one feast.
He squeezed in between Redda and Stufur. As the platter reached him, Gil passed it across to Redda.
“Don’t you want any?” Stu said.
“I’m allergic,” Gil said. “Pass me the potatoes.”
Without the special treat of Mrs. Claus’s mac and cheese, Gil had to settle for filling up on vegetables and potatoes. It wasn’t the same but so many in the world went without so he couldn’t complain.
He finished earlier than the others and headed out to the reindeer barn to muck out the stalls. Another few days and he’d be rotated out of this duty. But he didn’t mind it. The barn was one of the few places an Elf could find himself alone with his thoughts. He hummed Dreaming of a White Christmas and pet the reindeers as he led them out of their stalls. They seemed to almost snort and stomp in time with his humming.
He finished the mucking in record time and left to the comforting sound of the reindeers munching their dinner. Now the bright light didn’t bother his eyes. His headache from the other day was gone.
Gil headed for the dormitory. Maybe he could get a game going with Stu and Kert. Crazy Eights or Go Fish. He preferred Crazy Eights, playing kamikaze style with three decks of cards. With no limit as to how many cards you had to pick up to match the card played, it sometimes got really crazy. He remembered the time Stu had almost forty cards in his hand. Great game!
But when he pushed open the door, instead of the usual carousing and goofing off, he found all the other Elves already tucked in bed.
It’s not even eight thirty, Gil thought.
Even Tilfill and Sledda, notorious for staying up late past any and all curfews were stretched out on their beds, eyes closed, fast asleep. Gil pulled out his pocket watch to check it. Yep, eight twenty-three, just as he’d thought. Not everyone could be asleep so early.
He wandered up the aisle and found all the beds full of sleeping Elves. In the twilight created by the blackout curtains, he could still see the sleeping forms and hear the snores and deep breathing.
So much for getting a game going, he thought. I guess I’ll head to bed.
He pulled off his outfit and stuffed it into the truck at the foot of his bed. He climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up to his chin.
But sleep was a long time coming that night.
* * * *
Gil woke to the usual jingling bells of the alarm clock to his right. He waited for Kert to slap the alarm off, something he always liked to do but the jingling went on and on. Finally Gil opened his eyes and looked over.
Kert’s bed was empty, already made.
Gil sat up.
All the beds were empty. All the blankets had been pulled up to the pillows. The jingling of his alarm clock continued until he slapped it off himself. Silence spread through the dark shadows created by the blackout curtains. Gil checked the clock. Had he set it wrong? Had he overslept? Six am shown out of the clock. No, not late then.
He slipped out of bed and got ready. He pulled on his outfit and smoothed his hair behind his ears. Bright sunlight sparkled on the snow as he stepped outside and headed for the mess hall.
Even that was empty. What in Santa’s name was going on, Gil wondered. Dirty dishes stacked on trays filled the tray racks at the end of the mess hall. The breakfast bar looked empty. He headed for the back and found a lone box of cereal. Rinsing out a bowl, he poured out the cereal and added some milk. As he ate, he noticed even the fruit bowls were empty, as if breakfast was long over.
But it usually ran to eight o’clock!
Gil finished eating and set the bowl on a tray in the rack. Normally he would go brush his teeth before heading to work but this time he headed straight for the workshop. Summoning his magic, he swiped his hand across his mouth. His teeth gleamed.
He pushed open the workshop door. The sounds of work filled the air. Hammering, sawing, sliding. Except no talking, no chatter, no laughter. All the Elves worked with serious faces, mouths pursed in thin lines, brows drawn down in concentration. No wasted movement. No joking around. No spontaneous bursts of Christmas carols.
Gil shivered but it wasn’t the cool wind from outside that prickled up his back. He moved through the room to his workstation. Beside him, Kert hammered away on a plane.
“Everyone’s working early,” Gil said. “What time did you wake up?”
“Three,” Kert said. He didn’t look up. His attention focused on the plane.
“Three!” Gil said. “All of you? Why?”
“Have to get a jump on Christmas,” Kert said. “Don’t you think?” He looked up and his dark gaze fixed on Gil. A lull in the work around them told Gil that others had stopped to focus on this exchange. But no one said anything.
Gil felt sweat trickled down his sides that wasn’t from the heat inside the workshop. He shifted on his stool.
“Well, sure we have to get a jump on Christmas,” he said. “I’d say we’re doing that.”
The force of attention shifted away. Hammering and sawing started up again around him. Kert looked back at the plane.
“But did you have to start at three?” Gil said.
“Have to get a jump on Christmas,” Kert said. He finished the plane and set it on the conveyer belt. Next he picked up a replica machine gun.
Gil glanced around but no one met his eye. No one spoke. They just worked and worked and worked. Had Gil not realized the urgency this year? Had there been some huge population explosion to increase the number of toys needed and no one had told him? It had to be something that they all understood and he didn’t.
Gil picked up his saw and went to work.
The day crawled by but finally ended at six o’clock. The Elves headed for the mess hall but again with none of the usual joking and talking. Silence filled the mess hall as the Elves ate. Gil only managed a few bites before he fled, explaining that he had to check on the reindeer. None of the other Elves even lifted their heads as he left.
Snow crunched under his boots as Gil headed for the barn. How he wished for the blackness of the winter night instead of the sparkling summer sun. The blackness would match his mood. He’d never felt this way, never felt so off balance, so out of step with the other Elves. Obviously they knew something he didn’t and no one would tell him. It was something important and serious but he wasn’t important or serious enough to be told.
Tears prickled in his eyes as he pulled open the barn door. Inside, the reindeer stomped their feet impatiently. Gil could tell from the stale smell in the barn that no one had been in here all day. Where was the Elf assigned to the day shift with the reindeer? He should have let them out into the paddock. He murmured soothing words as he hurried the length of the barn and checked on the paddock. Everything looked all right, the bubble was intact.
He was halfway back to the front door of the barn before he realized he was going out to ask Kert for help with the reindeer. He stopped outside Prancer’s stall. Could he ask for help? Should he ask? They might just look down on him even more if they thought he couldn’t even handle the reindeer.
Okay, it was a big job but he could do it. He started at the back and led them out one at a time. Even Donner, the mischievous one, seemed to realize something was strange. He came along to the paddock quietly, not once trying to dash away. Finally, Gil took Rudolph out and led him toward the back.
“I guess Santa wants you well rested,” Gil said to the reindeer. “Did he come see you today?”
The glow on Rudolph’s nose dimmed. He wagged his head from side to side. The bells on his bridle jingled.
Gil stopped in the center of the barn, holding fast to Rudolph’s lead. “Santa hasn’t visited you?”
The reindeer pawed at the ground and shook his head again. Gil could swear he saw tears in Rudolph’s eyes.
Indignation puffed Gil’s chest out. This wasn’t right at all! The reindeer loved Santa. Seeing him gave them the strength and spirit to channel the magic necessary to traverse the Earth in one night, delivering presents. Without enough time and attention from Santa, the reindeer withered.
“I’ll talk to him, Rudy. I’ll tell him to come visit you, I promise,” he said.
Rudolph snorted and rubbed his cheek against Gil’s shoulder, almost knocking him down. Gil led the reindeer out to the paddock and let him go.
He turned and commenced mucking out the stalls. He’d have to bring the reindeer in once he was finished. It wasn’t nearly a long enough time for them to play around in the paddock but it was the best he could do. As he finished Rudolph’s stall near the front, he checked the clipboard hanging on a nail by the door. Sure enough Tutur was the day shift Elf in charge of the reindeer this week. Gil would speak to him and see why he missed letting the reindeer out. It had to be a misunderstanding. He was sure that was all.
When he finished the stalls, he returned to the paddock to start bringing the reindeer in. He knew it would be a challenge for just himself. The little devils never liked to come back in and were always goofing around. But instead of the thought of chasing them annoying him like it usually did, the thought now filled him with joy. At least chasing reindeer was silly fun.
But instead he found them standing around in clusters. As he opened the door, they raised their heads almost hopefully, then they sank back down. He could almost feel their disappointment that he wasn’t Santa.
Of course that’s why they didn’t feel like playing, they knew Santa was here but hadn’t come to visit them and they were sad about it. As he took each one’s bridle and led them back to their stall, he whispered the promise that he would talk to Santa and have him visit them tomorrow. Each reindeer’s ears flickered at the promise. Gil received many shoulder rubs with furry cheeks. Even Donner bumped his head against Gil’s side in acknowledgement.
Gil finished distributing the feed sacks. Munching sounds filled the air. At least that was one thing that sounded normal, he thought as he closed the barn door. Snow crunched as he took two steps toward the dormitory and then he stopped.
Maybe he shouldn’t wait until tomorrow. Maybe he should talk to Santa now. The reindeer’s health was vital to the Christmas mission. Santa always insisted on the best of care for them. He would surely want to know if they were in distress.
It had nothing to do with Gil wanting to be let in on any secret.
Before he could change his mind, his feet started moving toward Santa’s house. The red sprawling one story structure came into view. Lights twinkled along the white fencing on front porch. A huge Christmas wreath, bedecked with red and white bows, hung on the white oak door just above the huge brass door knocker. Even on tiptoes, Gil couldn’t quite grab the knocker. He settled for knocking his fist on the door.
A long moment ticked by. Gil started to think no one was there to answer when the door creaked open an inch. He caught the barest glimpse of Mrs. Claus in the doorway.
He grabbed the hat off from on top his head and gave her a bow.
“Good evening, Mrs. Claus,” he said. “May I have a word with Santa?”
“I’m sorry, Giljagaur, Santa can’t be disturbed at the moment. He’s very busy with Christmas duties.”
Her voice sounded thin and tired, not at all her usual, boisterous self. He hoped she wasn’t getting sick or anything.
“It’s just that the reindeer, they miss him,” Gil said. “He hasn’t been to visit them and I know they’d love even a few minutes with him.”
“I’ll let Santa know, Giljagaur,” Mrs. Claus said. The door began to close.
“Thank you again for the macaroni and cheese at the celebration,” Gil said before the door shut in his face.
The door paused. He could see one eye and part of her cheek. Was that a tear in her eye?
“I’m so glad you liked it, Giljagaur,” she said. “So glad. I’d be happy to make you more of it. Come by tomorrow evening after eight and I’ll have some for you then.”
She closed the door before he could entreat her not to go to any trouble for him. He raised his hand to knock again but then let it fall. How could he turn away such a generous offer? That would be so ungrateful.
At least he could tell the reindeer he’d delivered the message to Mrs. Claus if not to Santa personally. She would be able to persuade him much better than Gil ever could.
He was halfway to the dormitory when a thought struck him so powerfully he stumbled and almost fell.
Mrs. Claus never called him ‘Giljagaur.’
* * * *
At six the next morning he awoke again to an empty room. He hurried to get ready although he didn’t expect to find anyone in the mess hall either. Sure enough, it was empty, the same signs of earlier breakfast as yesterday. Gil once again found a box of cereal and this time just ate standing up by the racks of tray so he could slip the bowl onto one.
He headed for the workshop but then stopped. He should tell the reindeer that he’d talked to Mrs. Claus last night. Knowing that would cheer them.
He detoured toward the barn and found the front door ajar. Had Santa come early to see the reindeer? His heart thudded in his little chest. He loved making things right and this was as right as anything could ever be. A huge smile blossomed on his face. He grabbed the door handle and pulled.
The door swung open but the person standing in the center of the barn aisle patting Rudolph’s nose wasn’t Santa but Mrs. Claus. She jumped at the sound of the door creaking open. Her hands clutched up to her chest as if to protect her from a blow. Her normally coiffed hair hung in stringing sections around her face. Dark circles gave her eyes a sunken look. Her shoulders hunched. Even her red dress looked faded. Her white apron had streaks of some dark brown color on it.
“Mrs. Claus?” Gil said. “Are you all right?”
“Oh Giljagaur.” Her voice broke and she burst into tears. Her hands came up to cover her face.
Gil hurried forward, swinging the door shut behind him. He pulled a wrinkled but clean handkerchief from his pocket. He reached up to press it against her hands as he patted her upper arm.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Claus, there there.”
Her fingers finally gripped the kerchief and she pressed it to her face. After a minute, her sobs lessened. She used the kerchief to wipe her eyes. When she lowered it, sorrow etched across her face. Her eyes looked red and puffy.
“Thank you, Giljagaur, you are always so thoughtful.”
“You mustn’t cry, Mrs. Claus,” he said. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
She shook her head. “It’s just all so wrong.”
“What is?”
“Everything. Can’t you see it?”
From his stall, Rudolph stamped his foot and pressed his nose against Mrs. Claus’s arm. A weak smile turned her lips up and she lifted a hand to pat the reindeer.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Gil said.
She turned her weak smile to him. “Oh Giljagaur, you always try to be so thoughtful of others but I know you must see the changes going on. It’s supposed to be to make this Christmas special but you know it isn’t that.” She stopped and coughed, her hand reaching up to her throat. Gil tried to pat her back but could only reach up to midpoint.
So she had noticed too. That meant it wasn’t just him. A strange relief washed over him. He thought he’d been left out because of something he’d done or something he didn’t do. Now he saw that the strangeness wasn’t just in his imagination or his own sour grapes. It really was strange.
“The Elves are getting up awfully early to go to work,” Gil said. “They don’t laugh or joke in the workshop anymore. They hardly talk, only to ask for parts or whatever for the work. And the work...” He trailed off and shook his head. How to explain the feeling he got from the toys they were building? They all felt just... wrong.
“They aren’t right,” Mrs. Claus said. “Nothing’s been right since...”
She stopped and looked around the barn. Silence stretched between them and Gil realized even the reindeer were still. None of them stomped their feet or shifted in their stalls, moving the hay around. It was as if they were all listening. Gil looked down the aisle and saw reindeer heads poking over top the stall gates, all paying close attention. Then he saw the barn door half open. He could almost feel the pressure from the reindeer and Mrs. Claus. Close it.
“Let me just get the door, Mrs. Claus.”
He hurried over and grabbed the door handle. He took a quick glance outside, not even sure what he was looking for and saw only sparkling snow. He pulled the door closed and hurried back to Mrs. Claus’s side.
Her shoulders dropped as she relaxed. “You feel it, don’t you?” Her voice was a bare whisper as if she was afraid to speak too loudly, even with the door closed.
Gil almost looked back at the door but stopped himself. This was ridiculous, his brain tried to tell him but the sweat trickling down his sides and the pounding of his heart let him know that his body felt otherwise. He nodded.
“It’s not been right since... since the celebration.” She bent her head down until she whispered into his pointed ear.
“It’s Santa.”
“Santa!” He staggered back a step. Mrs. Claus clutched the kerchief to her chest. Her puffy eyes widened with fear.
“Be quiet,” she said. “Don’t let him hear.” Her lips quivered.
“Is he sick?” Gil said. He kept his voice down so quiet she had to bend down to hear him.
“No, I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think so. I think... I don’t know.”
He put a hand on her arm, knowing it was presumption of the highest order but this didn’t seem the time to stand on ceremony. “What is it? Please tell me, Mrs. Claus.”
She bit her lip and tears filled her eyes again. “I don’t think...” Her voice broke. She took a shuddering breath, her shoulders trembling with it.
“I don’t think it’s Santa.”
Her whispered words filled Gil’s ears. He could almost feel them sink down his body, traveling from his ears, down his neck, along his torso and arms to drain down his legs to his narrow feet. They left him shaky and more than a little frightened because he knew it. Somehow he knew it was true.
The strange toys, all designed for battle and violence, sharp edges and nasty colors. No joy in the making and no wonder in the playing. The Elves, stripped of gaiety and zest, moving like robots from work to the dormitory and back, never smiling, never laughing. And Santa, locked in his house, not even visiting the reindeer, the very least he would do. When was the last time Santa had gone two days without visiting the reindeer? When was the last time he went two days without coming to the workshop?
Gil had known, of course he’d known but he hadn’t want to face it because now, now he would have to do something about it.
“If not...” Gil let the word trail away. “Who is it?”
Mrs. Claus shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Then that was the first step, they would have to find out who it was. If not Santa, then who? Once they knew the who then they could figure out what to do. There was obviously some very strong magic going on. There would have to be to keep all the Elves in check this way. But why hadn’t it affected him?
“How did this all happen?” he said. “Why doesn’t it work on me?”
“I think it was the fish,” she said. “Something in the fish.”