Elf Magic

The sign on the wall read “Believe In Elves ... Or Else!” But the workshop was mostly empty at this hour. The only two occupants were much absorbed in one another. Red hair spilled across the dark mahogany of a table at one of the many work stations. Soft giggles filled the air, punctuated with the occasional moan or squeal. The table rocked with the motions of two bodies coming together over and over again. Wood clattered as several pieces of an unfinished toy rocking horse fell onto the floor.

The moans became louder, then became cries. They reached a peak where they were at their loudest, then faded off into pleased sighs. With a soft grunt, a dark-haired male pushed himself up off the petite red-headed female beneath him. He tucked a strand of sweat-dampened hair behind the point of his ear and stood, pulling his pants back up. The female elf stood up and pulled down her short red dress, smoothing it over her slender form.

“See you later, Kieran,” she said, giggling softly and wiggling her fingers at him. “And thanks.”

“Not a problem,” Kieran replied, grinning.

The female elf, Kyndi, was currently his favorite to spend time with. Sure, she was a complete bubblehead, but what a body! He watched her until she had left the workroom and waited a few minutes before leaving himself. Kieran had only taken one step out into the cold, snow-draped landscape when he felt, rather than saw, a presence come up beside him. Turning, he put on a sheepish grin. It always amazed him that a short, jolly fat man could seem so big and scary.

“Uh, hey, Santa,” Kieran said, laughing nervously. “I was uh ... just checking that everything was um ... cleaned up properly ... in the workroom ... you know...”

Santa scowled. “I’m sure it’s very tidy under Kyndi’s skirt. Come with me.”

Kieran yelped as Santa caught his ear in a strong pinch and tugged him along. He had to walk bent over, so much taller was he than the old man. Elves weren’t the tiny, little child-like waifs that humans thought they were, although admittedly he was even taller than the average elf. And where they had blonde hair or red, Kieran’s hair was as black as night. He struggled as Santa pulled him into the main house but was unable to break the old man’s grip, despite the fact that he was easily stronger than other elves, too.

“Ow!” Kieran muttered, rubbing his ear when he was at last let go. “Sheesh, you’re even moodier than Mrs. Claus when this time of year comes around!”

“Enough!” Santa snapped. “When are you going to start acting your age?”

“Aw, come on,” Kieran whined. “I’m only three-hundred and twenty-two! Just a babe yet!”

Santa glared at him so fiercely that he sobered quickly, straightening up to his full height. Kieran followed him into the central room of the house, where a large, brass-framed mirror stood, reaching up almost all the way to the thatched ceiling. Santa walked over to it and rested thick fingers against the surface of the glass. Kieran followed him, peeing over his shoulder as smoke began to swirl within the glass.

“I have a task for you,” Santa said.

Kieran grinned. “More hikers get lost? I love it when they do that, it’s great to do something other than muck reindeer sh-”

“Kieran!” Santa snapped warningly. “Not hikers, boy. Look.”

Kieran looked into the glass as the smoke began to clear, revealing a picture. A young woman stood out among others standing beside her. She had pale hair, white-blonde like a child’s, and a narrow, pixie-ish face with eyes of cool gray that were a bit too large for her face. Despite being rather plain, there was something attractive about her nonetheless. Perhaps it was that gloriously sensual mouth. Even though Kieran could hear nothing, he could tell by the movement of her lips that she was singing.

“A human?” Kieran asked, glancing at Santa.

“Winter Anthony,” Santa replied. “For twenty-two years, a believer in the magic of Christmas. But not this year. She is alone, and her belief in magic has faded.”

“Isn’t she the one who burns her cookies every year?” Kieran asked. “The reindeer love those things, although personally, I think they taste like rocks.”

Santa glared at him.

Kieran shrugged. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Help her,” Santa said simply. “Help her gain her confidence back. Help her meet people.”

“I’m not a matchmaker,” Kieran said, scowling. “This isn’t my job. Why do you want me to do it?”

“Because I said so,” Santa growled, his usually merry blue eyes narrowing in annoyance. “If you’ve got enough free time to be chasing skirts, then you can make yourself useful.”

“I can’t stand talking to humans,” Kieran complained. “They all think elves are little goody-goody toy makers! And the sunlight...”

“Go when the moon is high and return here to your duties when it sets,” Santa said. “I’ll have no arguments with you. Now go!”

Kieran scowled, but turned and left the main house all the same. He’d better get to work now if he was leaving when the moon came up. He was a black elf; a variety so rare among his kind that one was born only every several centuries, and there were usually never more than two at a given time. Most of his time was spent in the reindeer stables, taking care of them. Black elves didn’t make toys. Kieran did have another job, but it was one he wasn’t able to put to use as much as he would like.

The stables were dim and smelled strongly of musk. A small, slender slip of an elven boy was struggling with an overflowing wheelbarrow. Waylan was the other black elf that currently lived, but he was much younger than Kieran, having been born a mere fifteen years ago. He looked no older than five or six, but already he was learning what would eventually be his full-time duties. Waylan looked up when Kieran walked in and smiled brightly.

“I was just getting ready to feed them,” Waylan said in his high, squeaky voice.

“Go get the feed ready,” Kieran told him, reaching out for the wheelbarrow. “I’ll take this for you.”

Waylan grinned and ran off. He was small, smaller even than the other elves his age, but he was a hard worker and enthusiastic. Kieran sighed, glancing down at the hands that gripped the wheelbarrow; calloused and scarred from all his years of labor. It saddened him a bit that someone was bright as Waylan would have to be stuck in this lifestyle for centuries until another one like him came along.

---

“Silent night ... holy night ... all is calm ... all is right... ‘round young virgin mother and child ... holy infant so tender and bright...”

Winter finished the solo she was assigned and allowed her voice to fade into the harmony of the rest of the group. They finished the song together, sounding as one voice. The teacher was pleased with how well they sounded, but Winter didn’t stick around to hear any of her compliments. She stepped down from the choir bench and went to retrieve her bag. They were all getting ready for the Christmas show their school put on for terminally ill children every year.

What a depressing way to celebrate Christmas, Winter thought, sighing heavily. Not that I feel like being happy, anyway. She pulled on her heavy, fleece-like coat and zipped it up. It had been quite a cold winter this year. She walked as she pulled her gloves on, having to cut through the room the dancers occupied to get through to the hall. Winter had thought it would be a great thing, going to a school solely for the performing arts, but like community college before it, this was not the huge improvement on high school that people kept insisting it was.

“Winter! Hey, Winter!”

Winter winced, coming to a halt and going rigid. She glanced across the floor to where three girls, three lovely blondes, to be precise, were huddled together around a radio. One of them, the one with the most orange fake tan, was waving at her, smiling in a deceptively sweet way. God, her boobs are spilling out of that top, Winter thought, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. And that’s insane, because I didn’t know fakes could do that. She put on an equally sweet smile.

“Can I help you, Jessica?” Winter asked, through gritted teeth.

“Sweetie,” Jessica cooed. “We were just hoping you wouldn’t wear something freaky to the show and embarrass the whole school.”

Winter put her hands on her hips. “Well, why don’t you show me what you’re wearing? So I know what you mean by freaky.”

Jessica huffed, as though she were speaking to the stupidest person in the world. Her friends giggled, throwing each other looks as she reached into