Santa’s Little Elves

Alasia danced the Dance of Meditation, letting her thoughts fall from her with her clothes. She danced to a music only she could hear, trusting the rhythm to lead her. Her eyes were closed softly, and she weaved and darted through the Woods, leaping and falling as the music bade her. At the moment she achieved true meditation, the point where her mind was entirely free of all burdens but the music, a horrible screech interrupted the tune. It was a purely mental scream, but it pulsed in her mind, knocking her into a nearby icy pool.

The clamor of thoughts returned as she coughed and sputtered her way back to the surface. The Wood was gone, leaving a blank white landscape. She rubbed her eyes, sure they were lying to her, and slowly the picture gained clarity. She was in an entirely white landscape, but it was not a solid picture. She could now distinguish individual flakes of ice crystals, ones that gave a distinctly unpleasant sensation as they melted on her skin. The blood temperature of the People was such that she could stand an hour or so of this cold, but more than that would be fatal. The pool that she’d immerged from was gone, so she set out to find shelter.

That shelter came quickly, in the form of a shining red cottage. She had the awful feeling that the cottage would have appeared no matter what direction she’d walked in, but it was either the cottage or certain death, so she approached it. Her first impression was of comfort. The cottage was lined with hundreds of tiny twinkling lights, and soft nickering came from a nearby stable. Smoke curled from the charming little chimney, and somewhat sappy music poured from hidden speakers. She almost let herself be lulled into complacency. Almost.

She walked warily to the door, keeping all six of her senses alert. Nothing would get past her, although she knew that she was walking directly into a trap. What other choice did she have? As she grasped the door handle, it turned beneath her hand. They knew she was there, then. She stepped back to allow the door to open, and walked in.

The entrance hall itself was much larger than the exterior of the cottage would allow. A simple trick, for one of the People. But for a human? Impossible. They had no magic, not like this. One of the people was responsible, as unlikely as that seemed. But it also explained the Portal.

She paced the length and breadth of the room, searching for some kind of opening in the glaring white walls. Nothing was obvious, but she could sense something. She waited, and surely enough a door opened from the floor. One of the People climbed through the hole. She smiled in relief. None of the People would ever harm another of their kind.

Apparently she was wrong. As she approached the other, she was lifted into the air and slammed into a wall. As she struggled to catch her breath, the other attacked. It was over quickly, but not quickly enough. Her bare flesh was covered in blue-green bruises, boot shaped. The other left her shaking on the ground, and she (mercifully) passed out.

When she came to, she was alone in a dim, barred cell. She was fully dressed, sort of. An impossibly tight tunic was laced over her tender flesh. It left nothing to the imagination, not to mention cutting off any circulation. She’d made tunics for newborn Littles with more material. The rest of the outfit was little better. The skirt barely passed the boundaries of nakedness, and the slippers were made of velvet, and curled at the tips. The entire outfit was green with fur trim, in a shade that she couldn’t stand. The bruises, and the pain with them, were gone, and she couldn’t help but think that it was only for the pleasure of the viewer. But no one seemed to notice that she was awake. She slipped from the cot, and tested the door to her cell. It was open, so she walked into her new home.

As soon as she stepped from the cell, another of the People dragged her down the hall, leaving her at a giant oak door. She waited patiently until they opened, then entered. The room was giant, resembling a giant dining room, but containing only a single mahogany chair and desk. Waiting behind the desk was a human, short and fat, with cruelty in his very posture. In other words, exactly like the rest of his kind.

He stood at her approach, motioning for her to kneel. She tried to stand in defiance, but something forced her down. Then he spoke.

"So," he drawled, in a deep southern voice, "We have another volunteer. Well, let’s get down to business. Let me see, we already have a Jingles, and a Merry, and most other names are filled as well. Smile for me, will you?" It wasn’t a question. She forced her lips into a tight smile, and cringed at he touched her cheek. "Perfect. You’re Dimples. Remember that, or you’ll learn the consequences."

She nodded, and tried to speak. "Why am I…" He cut her off mid-sentence.

"You’re here because I brought you here. Jingles will explain it all. Now go with Jingles. Jingles!"

Another one of the People appeared at the door. She cringed away, remembering the others, but he smiled at her with real kindness, and led her from the awful room. She followed silently until they arrived at a warmer, and safe-feeling room. Then she spoke.

"Jingles?"

"Call me Evin. That was my name, once."

"Okay, Evin. What’s going on?"

"Why don’t you sit down. It’s a long story. Comfortable? Okay, basically, we’re slaves. For the past couple hundred years, the Boss has been bringing the People through portals to his ‘little cottage.’ For most of the year we’re left to our own devices, but for the last four to five months, we are kept constantly busy. We take down lists, take care of animals, and make and package millions and millions of toys. Oh, and we have to set spells. That’s why we’re here. He takes a few of us for personal servants, but you probably are safe. He prefers redheads to blondes."

"What about those other People? The ones that met me at the door?"

"Those are his personal bodyguards. We call them Blanks. Generally, if you disobey the Boss, you’re dead. But, if you have strong magic, or just lots of brute strength, he wipes out you and leaves a blank in your body. They only have enough wit to obey the Boss’s orders, and only the Boss’s orders." Thus their conversation ended, and Alasia/Dimples was led to the room that she would remain in for a great percentage of her life.

As the years passed, Alasia/Dimples learned a vast number of things. Mainly, she learned how nothing in life was constant. Many of her co-workers were replaced over the years, even Jingles. And slowly Alasia, the maiden Princess of the People, disappeared into Dimples, jolly elf of the North. Of course, she wasn’t truly jolly. That was only a label, like so much else in her life. But somehow, she survived. She outlived generations of Jingles, and Merry’s and all the others. The Boss’s magic kept her looking as young as she had when she’d arrived. She still took the occasional beating from one of the Blanks, but that was acceptable. Occasionally, she even deserved it.

But then, one year in early winter, Dimples made a mistake. She’d been preparing a simple size-reduction spell, one that she’d done many millions of times in her life. Unfortunately, something had gone awry, and the toy exploded in balls of flame. Nothing had been seriously damaged, but that hadn’t been the point. Dimples, the perfect perky elf, had made a mistake.

And she would be punished for it. It had long since been discovered that her magic was unusually strong, and so she was slated for Blanking. When the news arrived, Dimples disappeared, and Alasia was back.

Her immediate reaction was to go to Jingles, but her friend Evin/Jingles was long dead, and the youngster in the position currently resented her. Or at least, he resented Dimples. So that door was closed, but another was open. She had magic, strong magic. And many friends, at least one of whom was trustworthy enough to have brought her the news of her appointment despite the consequences. She was prepared to take on anything, especially the fat old man that called himself ‘the Boss.’

Her first and most important act of business was to find the Wards that protected him from physical and Magical attacks. The former was simple, but she only came upon the latter by accident. She disposed of both quickly, and went to face off against the Boss.

He sat behind his mahogany desk, face plastered with a cocky and self-confident grin. He never knew what hit him. It was all too simple. None of the others believed her, until the blizzard faded into the sunny Wood. She had freed them all, so easily. She’d taken the abuse of the Blanks for years without fighting back, and without reason. So many deaths could have been prevented, if she’d only thought.

And there would be no presents under the millions of Christmas trees, that year. Or any other year. She’d never thought of the consequences, either way. She’d let herself be used by her emotions, without thinking. And the worst part was that no one noticed. Everyone was safe, and that was all that mattered to them.

So if Alasia’s smile seemed a little strained some days, well, she had a rough time ‘up there’. And if she insisted on being called Dimples, hey, who could blame her? If she refused to leave the table during winter, making millions of little toys, well gee, the Littles sure liked that. She was a bit odd, but in a harmless sort of way.

And they all lived happily ever after.