Chapter Three:

Bernard blinked and looked about his room, trying to remember the events of the night before. ‘Ah yes,’ he thought. ‘that…dance thing.’ He wondered just how long it would take for him to live down being a chaperone, when Curtis bounded into the Number One Elf’s room. Without knocking. Again.

"What is it, Curtis?" demanded the dark haired elf.

"How was your date?" asked Curtis, smiling mischievously. Bernard paled visibly. Yes, the elves knew that he’d chaperoned a date on Santa’s behalf, but a date of his own? With a human? Oh dear…what was he to tell them? He suddenly had an idea, though admittedly it was not the most creative one. Denial. If it worked for humans it would (hopefully) work for elves.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about." He said, climbing out of his featherbed. Mistake. He’d neglected to slip on his silk pajamas the night before, and now found himself in a less than dignified position. Staring down the Number Two Elf, while wearing boxers. It ought to be an Olympic Event.

"Oh?" said Curtis, batting his eyelashes at his boss.

‘Oh no. This is not good.’ Thought Bernard. He pulled his robe around his shoulders before returning his attention to the child-like figure before him. He had absolutely no idea what to do. Curtis – it seemed – had been watching the whole thing through the Christmas Crystal. Bernard sighed and crossed his arms, waiting for the inevitable blackmail. He didn’t have to wait long.

~ * ~

It had been a long time since he had seen the light of day. Of course, the North Pole didn’t get daylight during this time of the year, but even the opaque glow of the Northern Lights hurt his large, black eyes. Who would have thought that after all these years he would still remember what light looked like?

He, like those that had saved him, were cold, filthy and tired. Not for much longer, though. The elves – the fairer folk – might grow and thrive for now, but very soon the watchful eyes of that fat, old man would be plucked from his scull. How many Santas had there been since he’d come to this barren place? He snarled at the cheerful, beautiful town that stretched out before him. Why should he not rule over such a place? Why not over all of the kingdoms? Why not exact revenge…

No, he didn’t understand the concept of Christmas, nor did he understand any of the holidays or mythical beings that had become synonymous with such days any more than he understood why these silver-flecked children were brought to this place, while he was sent below. Who would have the answers to his questions? Would Santa? Would Father Time?

He turned his back on this "Christmas Town" and set off toward the surface. Once he remembered how his magic worked, he would find someone to explain all of this to him. That was when he recalled that once, he’d known how to read.

~ * ~

"Cassandra, what’re you doing?" demanded Francesca, peering at her sister from over a mountain of clothes.

"Trying to find something that doesn’t make my ass look big." replied the older girl. She looked herself up and down before tying her hair into a bun at the crown of her head. "No…" she murmured, pulling her hair out of the previously mentioned bun. She preferred her hair down.

"I got that," said Frankie, gesturing to the clothes on the bed. "but why?"

"I have a date."

If the middle Monroe sister could have sweatdropped – a kind of expression used in Japanese cartoons (Anime) to demonstrate sudden frustration – she would have. Instead, she collapsed onto her sister’s bed and watched her apply the usual eight ounces of makeup.

"He cute?" she asked after a while.

"Uh…here’s a pic." Said Cassandra, handing Francesca an eight by ten. A boy with chestnut hair, peaches and cream skin and frost blue eyes stared back at her. He had the kind of smile that surely broke dozens of hearts every five minutes.

"You don’t usually go for the heartbreakers." stated Francesca, eyeing the way her sister took special care while applying lip liner.

"He’s sweet. Wants to take me ice skating in the starlight."

"Aw!" exclaimed the middle child. "You gonna keep him?"

"Possibly. At least until after Christmas, I think." said Cassandra. Frankie giggled and shook her head at her sister.

"Hey, remember that story you were working on?" asked Francesca.

"Which one?" asked Cassy, peering into her reflection to scatter some glitter over her eyelids.

"The one with the elves and the boogie man and the skeleton." Replied the middle child. Cassandra had to pause a moment and think before she realized just what her sister was talking about.

"That thing I wrote after a particularly disturbing dream?" she asked.

"Dreams suck, don’t they?" said Francesca, loosing interest in the conversation. Cassandra arched an eyebrow at her friend and suddenly felt a strong urgency to work on that story. She – for some inane reason – felt like the Snow Ball would make for an engaging addition to the twenty page piece.

She then found herself wondering just how that story had ended.

~ * ~

‘I don’t wanna do this…’ thought Bernard. He’d told Curtis that there was nothing the Head Elf could say that wouldn’t sound better coming from his Second in Command, but this only made the child-like being blush and shake his head emphatically.

What was the blackmail that would make the eldest, most powerful elf in the North Pole so uncomfortable that he would have rather gone to a strip club with Charlie – which would have been the embarrassing moment of the millennium – than approach Judy on Curtis’ behalf? Admitting that he’d been on a date with a human.

What exactly was he supposed to say? "Hey, Judy, wanna go out to dinner with Curtis?" Bernard rubbed his temples, feeling his stomach twist into knots, and took a seat at the Cocoa Lounge. Judy popped up directly in front of him and gave him his usual. Cocoa made with cream instead of milk, with liquid marshmallow and mini-marshmallows, whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. He was the only one she made the drink for.

"You seem distressed." Stated the dark haired elf, smiling. She always understood everything. He was never going to be able to get his special cocoa again. Damn Curtis!

"Well – uh – I kind of am." he said, watching the whipped cream begin to melt into the cocoa.

"What’s the matter?" asked Judy, looking concerned.

"Well…uh…" What had he planned on saying again? "I have a problem." What was he going to say? "But, I’ll be fine." he added quickly. "I’ll figure something out."

Judy looked at Bernard with a slightly tilted head, and a curious expression on her face, but she did not inquire further. If she did, it would only annoy her boss, and why do that when he was so peaceful at the moment? The raven-haired elf drained the last of his cocoa, smiled politely and excused himself. He was not at all romantically inclined, and this was just another example of how little he knew about such things.

"I really need a new job…" he muttered, rubbing his temples again.

End of Chapter Three.


Chapter 4