The Elf Resistance - Book Six of the Magi Charter

By Jordan David and Rob Bockholdt

Two Centuries. Two Santas. The Belgian and the Cowboy. Internal dilemmas and external strife aplenty. It is during this era that Mistletoe Green flexes his grip over the North Pole and through the manipulation of the Santas ultimately succeeds in the sealing of the library. The Elders, banished to the Village, must escalate their resistance plans against the FCD and all their evils. Dire times tend to forge the people the future most depends on. And from these crucibles was Santa Christo so tempered, the upheavals of the twentieth century with its wars and technological leaps would serve as the foundation of a legacy that would forever cast him as the greatest Santa.

About the series, The Magi Charter:
For over two thousand years the legend of Santa Claus has endured. His is a Mission of peace as outlined in the Magi Charter, given to the first Santa by the Child. From humble beginnings, following that First Christmas, the Santa lineage has been passed down through the ages. This epic adventure tells the story of those Santas from the founding of the North Pole and the origin of the ancient elves, to our modern times where the world's problems affect even those in the secluded complex of the North, and concluding in the distant future which finds Santa and the elves committed to their mission on a galactic scale where Christmas traditions are barely recognizable. In every era, those committed to the Mission must find a way to deliver that which is needed most to those most deserving.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Sep 25, 2015
• ISBN: 9781456625795

Book preview

The Elf Resistance

Jordan David

Copyright 2020 Jordan David,

All rights reserved.

Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com

http://www.eBookIt.com

ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-2579-5

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

The Magi Charter

by Jordan David

The Elf Brief

The Elf Archive

The Elf Coup

The Elf Accord

The Elf Legacy

The Elf Resistance

The Elf Directive

The Elf Sojourn

-Contents-

Chapter 1

A Visit from Santa Basil

Chapter 2

Ode to Joy

Chapter 3

A Lump of Coal

Chapter 4

The Directory

Chapter 5

The Shell House

Chapter 6

Rebels

Chapter 7

At the Races

Chapter 8

A Fistful of Dreams

Chapter 9

Stoking the Resistance

Chapter 10

A Day in the Life

Chapter 11

The First Briefing

Chapter 12

Sealing of Fates

Chapter 13

Explorers

Chapter 14

Those Gentlemen of the AFS

Chapter 15

Search and Rescue

Chapter 16

A Matter of Judgment

Chapter 17

Mr. Underhill

Chapter 18

The Speakeasy

Chapter 19

Clementine

Chapter 20

The Taka Seal

Chapter 21

Shadow of the Mesa

Chapter 22

Trinity the Unholy

Chapter 23

The Prize

Chapter 24

Deviation

Chapter 25

Emperor Waltz

Chapter 26

Garden Party

Chapter 27

A Few Small Steps

Chapter 28

Magenta

Chapter 29

Seeking Kutuzov

Chapter 30

In the Shade

Chapter 31

Down the Long Helix

Chapter 32

The Immortal

Chapter 33

Deceptive Plans

Chapter 34

Of Books and Roses

Chapter 35

Planets

GLOSSARY



Chapter 1

*

A Visit from Santa Basil

The grandfather clock had scarcely struck midnight when a calamitous commotion erupted out on the lawn with such voracity as to wake the occupants of the cozy house this Christmas Eve.

Eliza Moore lay snuggled beneath several layers of blankets beside her husband in that pleasant dreamy state somewhere between sleep and conscious thought. They had recently settled themselves from the day’s festivities and only now was she about to drift off entirely. Elsewhere in the home, their children were long since put to bed; dreaming of the sugary plumes that would feature amongst Christmas Day’s merriment that was to follow come morning.

The Moore family had spent the day decorating the house for Christmas and making all sorts of delightful treats. Delicacies that came only once a year such as maple sugar candies, peppermints, ginger snaps, pumpkin and mince pies, varieties of sweet plums, and all sorts of other things. Thick garlands of holly and mistletoe decked the parlor and sitting rooms from floor to ceiling and would have made it up the stairs if Eliza had not forbidden the children from getting too carried away. Decorations of handmade colored papers hung from the garland and covered the walls leaving not a bare spot of wallpaper to be seen. From every doorway, mistletoe hung in hopes of being put to use soon enough. Christmas Day would see the Moore house filled with visitors and merrymakers throughout the afternoon and well into the night. Eliza could barely settle her brains with all there was to think about. She’d have to get everyone up early and organized for the morning church service. Not that that would be difficult, likely the younger children would be up long before sunrise and go bounding down the stairs to see what gifts were left for them in their stockings by the fireplace. There would hardly be time to spare for gifs; all must get dressed in their Sunday best and be on their way to the church. Afterwards, they’d have to rush home to get the Christmas dinner underway and be ready to receive an endless stream of callers.

It was 1825 and theirs was a small town in New England, though one would never know it the way Troy had been growing these past years. Eliza remembered the days when it was a sleepy little village on the Hudson River, a pleasant hamlet more likely to be swallowed up by Albany then ever become a recognized city, which happened around ten years back. And yet Troy was just the sort of town she would want to live in. Not as big as Albany or New York, and not too small to offer all the modern conveniences and services one would need. Although the harvest was over months ago, Troy was ideally situated as a kind of crossroads for the produce that filtered down from the orchards and farms of Vermont and New Hampshire thus giving its inhabitants the choicest pick of the fruits and goods flowing down the Hudson on their way to points south. It was no wonder then that the bounty of Christmas was perhaps more abundant here than most other towns in this part of the country.

It was hardly the foremost thought on her mind as she attempted to will herself into a deep sleep that would speed the night’s hours away and bring on the excitement of the holiday. Her husband Emmitt, shifted with equal restlessness. He was not the sort of man to give any outward sign of excitement over holiday merriment; never him. Emmitt would remain composed and dignified and only voice a concern should there be a risk they might be late for church. But Eliza knew him better; he was as excited as she. It was quiet throughout the house. The fireplaces occasionally let off a sigh as the last of the embers and ashes settled. Here and there the house creaked in a familiar way. Outside the night was still, not even a gust of wind deigned to disrupt the house; the peace of the night lending to the prolonging of the moment when the Christmas rejoicing might truly begin.

With all that was going on inside her and only minutes from sleep, it was the very last thing Eliza expected when a terrible noise jolted them from the bed. Sitting bolt upright, she and Emmitt stared about their room, the only light coming from the window, a dim bluish haze that made it impossible to discern each other’s faces. For a few seconds they sat listening, Emmitt held up a hand waiting to see if perchance it had been an imaginary disturbance as not even their two dogs laying nearby made the least notice and continued to sleep soundly.

Again, the crashing and calamity erupted in the vicinity of the house. It was evident the clatter came from outside on the front lawn. Emmitt sprang from the bed and went to the window, throwing back the sash and opening the shutters. Eliza quietly followed suit. And her eyes betook the most wondrous sight! There out on the lawn, in the gleaming snow, alight by the shine of the moon and stars, was a short figure of a man and a long team of animals who had all become entangled in their reins.

Who is it, papa? Eliza whispered to her husband, clutching her nightgown close as the frosty air flowed into their cozy bedroom. A wassailer lost his way?

I’m not sure, mamma, Emmitt answered in awe.

They watched as the little man, or at least it must be a man, for the figure was a bit short and round for the average person, and bedecked in thick furs from head to foot that altogether gave the impression of a bear. The little horses were some variety of pony that Eliza had never seen. The man busied himself with getting the team back in order, making a great bit of noise in doing so. He talked to the animals with words that were difficult to make out from their vantage point. Every so often they did manage to catch a phrase, ‘Tiret, Comète, Amour…’ it was evident the man was not speaking English.

What sort of horses are those?

Emmitt shook his head in disbelief. Not horses. Reindeer; a miniature variety. I’ve never seen the like.

Reindeer…. Do we know anyone with reindeer in these parts? Eliza asked. She’d heard of reindeer, but this was her first time seeing the species. And eight of them no less. Who on earth would need a team of eight to pull such a tiny sleigh for one man? She should insist Emmitt go out there and deal with the fellow; if he were allowed to carry on much longer, he’d wake the whole house.

And yet she did nothing. Nor did Emmitt. The funny little man never once turned to acknowledge them. He was nearly finished with sorting out the team and likely would go on his way up the road. Eliza hoped that was to be the end of it.

Settling himself in the curious little sleigh, the reindeer pawed at the ground anxious to be off. He snapped the reins and giving not a care for who might hear, he shouted out to the team:

"Venir Tiret, Tonnerre, Comète, Amour, Cabrioler, Renarde, Pirouette, et Franchir. Maintenant sur le toit, s’envoler!"

The reindeer burst into the air with a great showering of snow upon the lawn. Emmitt and Eliza both ducked in fear as the crazed team was about to come through their window! Eliza let out a shriek, but before she could think what to do, there came a great pounding on the roof as the animals landed, pulling the sleigh along the peak. It was impossible! What in the world?

Stay put, Emmitt bid her, dashing for the door to the hall. Eliza had eyes only for the ceiling now, half expecting the stranger to come crashing through. She was not about to stay here alone. Steeling herself, she quickly followed her husband out to the hallway; he intended to get downstairs to where the rifles were kept in his study.

Ebenezer! Bob! Eliza said trying to rouse the sleeping dogs. Be you deaf? Don’t you hear all the noise? Wake up, help papa! But it was no use. Try as she will, the dogs did nothing more than give her a lazy glance and shift around to a more comfortable spot; completely unconcerned for the Moores’ imagined peril.

Out in the hall, husband and wife crept cautiously down the stairs, the sounds from the roof were most unsettling, as if an army of boots were stomping about; far worse than any hailstorm the roof had ever endured. Eliza uttered a silent prayer that whatever bewitched them this holy eve would quickly come to pass. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand touched her shoulder.

Shh! Emmitt hissed at her.

What is it? What’s going on? insisted a woman in a thick flannel nightshift that was so long it concealed her feet.

Harriet, you startled me! We don’t know. Stay put. Don’t wake the children, Eliza whispered frantically to her sister who had come to spend the holiday with them. Harriett peered up and down the hall half expecting the children to emerge from their rooms any moment. Thankfully, she nodded assent and watched as the two made their way down the stairs.

Eliza caught up with her husband, keeping to his heels as they went step by step down to the landing on the first floor. She was growing impatient with Emmitt. Why had he stopped? They were only halfway down the stairs. Then she noticed it too. There came no further sound from the roof above. Silence pressed down on the house. The unnerving sort of calm…

From their vantage point on the stairs, they could see the informal sitting room where the family spent their evenings. Several comfortable chairs, a sofa, and table were set about on a plush carpet before a fireplace, the embers of which were still smoldering. The very last thing the children did before going bed had been to hang their stockings. Nine of them there were, six for the children and one each for Eliza, Emmitt, and Harriett.

There came a curious glow from the fireplace. Not unlike the glow of sparks leaping up into the chimney, but instead of leaping upward, this orangish-red glow emanated from above and grew brighter until a floating red orb appeared to hover above the remains of the logs. It wavered only an instant before drifting out into the sitting room. With a distinct flash and pop there before them stood the queer little man whom they’d glimpsed from outside! The owner of the sleigh and tiny reindeer and the source of their slumber’s interruption.

With the stairs being so thickly covered with the holiday garland, Eliza was forced to peek through the rungs of the banister at the sight before her. Emmitt too was equally astonished and dared not take another step further. The little man was indeed dressed in dark furs, splotches of soot and ashes clung to his person as he was not the most agile and tended to get his hands and feet a bit too close to the grime of the hearth while absently wiping his hands upon his coverings. He looked straight at them with a smile and nod, gave them a wink and set about his work. On the instant, Eliza felt she knew this stranger; he like some mysterious uncle that only blew in on the rarest of occasions, but she couldn’t quite recall his name.

This man was quite chubby, though Eliza allowed the sizeable fur coat might contribute to that impression overly so. His little dark eyes twinkled in a way that suggested he knew a joke that he was sworn to secrecy never to divulge and altogether gave her the impression he’d rather be no place else than right here in the Moore house and doing… something with that pack. Eliza had not even noticed it until he set it before him like a peddler, pulling out all sorts of goodies and stuffing them into the children’s stockings. She glimpsed oranges, a pair of shoes, spools of ribbon and thread, a pocketknife for one of the boys, a doll for a girl, a pencil case, a belt buckle, a shiny tin cup.

I thought you put the children’s gifts in the stockings… Eliza said softly to her husband.

I did. I thought you came after with additions…

Eliza watched wide-eyed as the jolly little man finished with the last of the stockings, hers and Emmitt’s. She was enthralled to see a gift of a new ornately decorated hairbrush slip into her woolen stocking. Next into Emmitt’s went a new shaving kit.

Do you… do you think it might be Saint Nicholas? Eliza asked with bated breath as if naming their visitor would cause him to disappear on the instant.

Emmitt shook his head in silent bewilderment.

And then it was done. Saint Nicholas closed his pack, slinging it over a shoulder and gave them a parting nod and wink once more. She was not able to see exactly what happened next as a paper decoration came off the garland and obstructed her view. Peering through the next rung, Eliza saw the man was gone and a little ball of red light flew up the chimney. Moments later they heard a commotion upon the roof. Again, it sounded as if an army was stomping around up there.

He’s getting away! Emmitt shouted, leaping over her and dashing back up the stairs. Eliza ran after, down the hall and back to their room where they hung out of the window to watch for the little sleigh and team to come charging down from the heights.

In short order, a thunderous rumble sounded from the roof and instantly was gone. The night was still and silent. They witnessed the sight of the sleigh and reindeer flying around the house, darting about the air like some fanciful butterfly. As the sleigh flew by their window, they saw Saint Nicholas wave and give a friendly farewell to them:

"Joyeux Noël à toutes et à tous une bonne nuit!"



Chapter 2

**

Ode to Joy

The sleigh pulled along the well-worn tracks of the path leading southwest away from the complex. Looking out over the bleak landscape, one could easily imagine being lost a thousand miles from any civilization. The day’s weather was gray and overcast. A thick haze not unlike fog obscured the view beyond like a shroud covering the world itself. Polar weather was a fickle thing and never satisfied with keeping to one characteristic. One day it would be clear and sunny with the full splendor of the frozen land on display, only to be shrouded in a cloud bank for days on end, or entirely blacked out by a lumbering blizzard. Even the sun itself indulged in games of hide-and-seek in this place, dipping below the horizon at times to keep the North in darkness for months without end. It was during those dark months that the true magic of the North could be glimpsed; on those nights when the sky was sufficiently clear of storms and clouds. That’s when the Aurous Borealis danced across the heavens in wondrous shades of yellow and green and gold. The twinkling stars and wandering planets were simply breathtaking in this unique place that reminded one that a prolonged night could be every bit as beautiful and optimistic as a bright sunny day.

Of course, nothing so scenic was to be seen on this particular day for the two elves sitting on the back of the sleigh. The gray gloom concealed their former home, the complex of buildings at the top of the world where they had lived for more than six hundred years. The lass’s eyes stared outward blankly; she’d given up trying to spot any lingering sign of the rooftops or the Great Christmas Tree. In truth their new residence was not that far, they were still elves after all, but the dreary day served to exaggerate the distance. Only a mile from the complex the Village lay and yet this was the longest journey of Anna’s life.

Beside her sat her oldest friend and companion. Cider Eggnog swung his legs and rocked back and forth in time to the tune he hummed as the sleigh clipped along. He was a lad of eight by appearance, only several years her junior but he had been here just as long as she. Cider was happy to be going anywhere and gave her an innocent grimace whenever Anna chose to tear her eyes from the depressing view. She tried to put on a brave smile for him. How much he understood of what was happening was hard to say. Still, it would not do for both of them to be so glum. The tune he hummed was the Ode to Joy, and Anna knew it well. They heard it the last time the elf symphony convened for a performance of the composer Beethoven’s works during a feast Santa Basil put together for the retired elves, a sort of farewell send off. If not for Cider’s humming the catchy chorus, Anna would just as soon forget the whole event. It was funny how Cider could pick up musical pieces with such ease yet telling him to put his boots on was a basic instruction he had to be reminded of daily.

The sleigh gave a lurch as it rode over a rough icy bump, nearly spilling Anna out onto the path. Perched delicately on the edge of the cargo bed, for their personal belongings were piled high behind them, Anna braced with her left hand, while Cider instinctively took a firm hold of her right arm. There was little chance of her being ejected onto the frozen land with him here. Some instincts never had to be relearned. Cider flashed her a grin and Anna returned him a genuine smile, a rare sight these days. And at that moment a comprehension passed between them. Those were the moments that she lived for now. And just like that, it was gone… Cider went back to humming and gazing out at the gray void in perfect contentment.

Theirs was the last in a line of twelve sleighs that departed from the complex with the last of the personal effects of the ancient elves. On their way to the little Village for retirement on the outskirts of the North Pole grounds. It had been a long and bitter fight. Anna supposed she should consider herself lucky that the elders were being allowed to stay on at the North Pole, albeit in a greatly reduced capacity and removed from the main complex. She vowed to remain active in elf life. There were still plenty of young elves who needed schooling, and she would not give up her Library. Even if she did have to walk a mile each way every day.

One hundred and forty-four. That was the number of elves who exceeded two hundred years of service and were compelled to retire. It was a blow to every department to be losing their most experienced and senior elves, but one would hardly notice the way the department heads acted. In the last two decades, the North Pole had seen the greatest influx of elves in its history. Nearly half the elf ranks, well over six hundred of them had been employed for less than a century. Elves had always been expected to serve a term of two hundred years… yet rare was the elf who accomplished that. Perhaps one in ten. And now? It remained to be seen how all these young ignorant elves would fare under the radical changes sweeping the North Pole. Perhaps they would last… perhaps not. Anna was certain that if one elf was left to his devices, he’d replace the entire elf staff every year if need be. It was no small victory to create the Village; as opposed to being put out of the North Pole and returned to the human world, as was tradition. Plus, going forward elves reaching their two hundredth anniversary would have the choice to retire to the Village. Bittersweet victories…

Anna planned to save as many of these new elves as she could. As the centuries ticked by, she intended to persuade them to retire, to join this new community she and her comrades were building. It would take time, but time was on her side. One day she might have a Village to rival the complex itself. Now wouldn’t that be absurd? Santa who-ever would have to see sense in the Council’s guidance. Even better, the one elf she despised would one day have to face the decision to leave or retire as decreed by his own policies. That would be a sweet day indeed.

In the meantime, she needed to keep herself busy. Her classes had been whittled down to almost nothing. Less than fifty students remained. Dorotea, her longtime friend and fellow teacher, had suggested they disband the classes. Anna wouldn’t hear of it. If only one elf showed an interest in acquiring an education, they were obliged to make it happen. Secretly though, Anna feared the day when the last student graduated. What would she do then? Tend the books in the Library, dust the shelves… a hundred other menial tasks. The Library would keep her busy… yes, there was no worry there. Elves still enjoyed a good book same as they always did. But deep down she worried that with no students the Library would be losing a key aspect of its purpose. And what might happen then she did not know. It was only a feeling. She would muster through.

Not all the elders were being forced to relocate. Or even resign from their jobs. There were a few exceptions. Two were close friends: Tetsu and Hilda. Tetsu, known around the complex as the esteemed Master Lux was a lad of fourteen and wise beyond his years. How Anna wished her friend would have been more willing to join her resistance efforts; Santa Basil would have listened to him. Tetsu was responsible for maintaining all the Rune devices and power generation of the North Pole. Not to mention the machines that made the heat and the toys in the Factory. Without Tetsu, Santa’s Mission would likely fail. A fact that most Santas, even the old retired ones, would only admit to themselves and to their successors behind closed doors. But Tetsu never took advantage of this. Tetsu was the epitome of modesty and commitment. He did his duty quietly, never asking for any kind of favor or privilege from elf or Santa. In fact, he kept largely to himself. Anna was one of the few who knew where to find the lad. She kept their friendship subdued and only called on Tetsu when it was of great import. Still, she had mixed feelings about how the situation had come to this…

Hilda was another exception to the retirement policy. Of course, she preferred not to answer to Hilda these days. The elves only knew her by her Elf Name of Angel Song. Doctor Song to be precise. She wore the pink hat and ran the sanatorium in a little corner of Elf Services. She was the first to assist newly arrived elves, helping them with the transition process, and tending to their health needs as the years went by whether they came down with Elf Fatigue or serious injury. Elf life was largely uneventful, but still accidents did happen. And one day when an elf decided he was ready to return to the human world, it was Angel Song who pronounced him fit to return through the same portal that brought him to the North. The North Pole had to have its doctor. A younger replacement was out the question. Who would train a protégé? Only Dr. Song could do that, and though she had been in residence as long as Anna, she had never been able to find the right elf to take her place. Dr. Song professed a lingering desire to retire and insisted to anyone who would listen that she was actively looking for a replacement. Her long-time nurse Chestnut would have been subject to the retirement policy too, but Dr. Song skillfully convinced Santa Basil that Chestnut was an indispensable part of her department. Santa agreed. Anna fondly remembered the meeting where Santa had consented on that exception. Much to the consternation of that elf…

That elf. She could hardly think of him without grinding her teeth. Vosichi Laclos, who now styled himself Mistletoe Green. That conniving little troll who’d weaseled his way into Santa Basil’s confidences. One word from Mistletoe and Basil would practically jump. It was even rumored that Mistletoe was the whole reason the elders were being sent off to the Village. Well, that was no rumor, it was the plain fact of the matter. If it were not for Anna and the Council, there’d be nothing to oppose Mistletoe’s ambition. Mistletoe saw himself as the only elf who knew what was best for the North Pole. He alone knew how to ensure the Mission was upheld from year to year. He would be the one to unite the elves under a banner of uniformity and harmony. One might think that before the time of Mistletoe the Santas had struggled in vain to accomplish their duty, that the elves were as reliable as glass hammers and just as prickly. It was no wonder that the new elves of late went around with an air of self-worth, looking down their noses at anything a senior elf instructed. Novice elves went out of their way to invent new methods of making toys, running the factory machines, and even baking bread; resulting in innovations that were costly of time and materials. But it was their way to go against the established traditions, never mind that it might not be efficient; it was change. And change was good. A sentiment that was echoed in the halls of Elf Services where the ideology was being demonstrated physically. The department was undergoing a transformation with the construction of walls and offices and the design of whole new sections.

All of it made Anna nervous. Change had thus far not been a good thing for the North Pole. Whatever was going on in Elf Services, she knew Mistletoe was at the heart of it. The Wise Council would do what it could to keep up with developments. For now, they were grateful to remain elves and have a role to play in fulfilling the Mission. After all, their names had not been stricken from the Accord. The future of the retired elves was not a certain one, but they would persevere. Anna would see to it. She had more to lose than the average elf should she be forced out, and she gave Cider’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

Being pushed out to the rim of the North Pole’s protective zone could have its advantages. She and the Council would be able to operate without the scrutiny of Mistletoe and his lackeys. And it was not perchance that their little Village had been erected on this exact spot. Anna smiled despite herself.

The sleigh bumped along as the snow packed path transitioned into the cobblestone streets of the little Village. These narrow streets were scarcely wide enough to allow the reindeer-pulled sleigh to make its way amongst the small cottages and houses. Here and there they went through a central hub where the houses were arranged in a circular fashion around a water well. There was half a dozen of these ‘town hubs’ throughout the village. Often the sleigh was forced to come to a stop as the streets were littered with crates, boxes, and displaced items as the elders were busy moving their belongings off sleighs and getting things set up inside their new homes.

The Husbandry elf who was driving their sleigh was a bit impatient, snapping the driving whip and calling for the elders and their brown hat movers to get a move on. Anna was not about to sit for that sort of rudeness. She briskly went around to the front of the sleigh, snatched the whip from the hands of the bewildered driver, delivered a quick smack of the whipping pole atop his brown hat, and stalked off taking the whip with her.

If you learn some manners you can have it back, Prestor Ornament. And don’t go thinking you’ll dump our belongings in the street and dash off. You will be helping us to unpack and not be in a bit of hurry. I’ll have you know Blizzard Dawn is an old friend of mine, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I kept the sleigh and sent you walking back to the reindeer barns.

She settled herself on the back of the sleigh with a contented grin and threw the blanket back over herself and Cider.

Excellent idea taking the whip, but don’t you worry if he goes too slow, we’ll be late for work? Cider asked eying the whip as if it were the sole means of driving a reindeer team.

Not to worry my dear. We have all the time in the world. Anna sighed. Her words had the immediate effect to dispel Cider’s concern; he took her meaning at face value and thought it the grandest notion. Anna though was left with a bitter taste; she could not have been more right in summing up their predicament. No jobs and all the time in the world to accomplish them.

The construction of the retirement Village had taken place in record time. Why from conception to completion spanned little more than a year. Once it was deemed the retirement was going to become fact, it was a matter of settling on a location and getting down to the building of new homes. The new little community consisted of cozy little buildings of two or three stories which were divided into apartments accommodating several elves in additional to the cottages built around hubs. The design of the Village had been done in stages with each stage getting a new style. Most of the streets were narrow and meandered along in a twisting fashion that precluded any chance of seeing too far into the Village. Indeed, the whole of the Village gave one the feeling of being back in some old-world European city that had been around forever. There were no views of the vast arctic wilderness here, only the cobblestone streets and the stark plaster and wood facades of the buildings. The largest of which tended to be clustered around the central hubs where the water wells made for a quaint focal point and gathering spot. The wells were not meant to be functional though, Tetsu had made sure the Village was connected to the complex’s water system. The retired elves would not have to go without the standard comforts they’d enjoyed for so long.

Tetsu had been a Godsend with this little project. Enough so that Anna was willing to overlook all his pacifistic shortcomings when it came to dealing with Mistletoe and Santa Basil. If it had not been for their resident Rune Master, the retired elves would likely have been thrown out into the arctic with only the raw material and their own hands and wits to build their homes. That would have been disastrous. But not with Tetsu around. Tetsu used those elfin Runes of his to assist with the assembly of superstructures, carving out the basements from rock and ice, and many sorts of other things. It also helped to have no shortage of master builders amongst the retired elves. Building a full-sized Village was a bit different from building a dollhouse or model castle, but the elves were a quick study. Anna was more than a little proud to see what had been accomplished.

Prestor Ornament pulled the sleigh around one such central hub, completely unremarkable from any other in the Village. The rough worked doorways and entrances here were all identical, though some doors were made from different sorts of woods, and each had a different number painted in black on the side. The sleigh stopped at the steps leading up to number 4. This would be Cider’s house. They jumped down from the sleigh to have a look at the place. This was the first time either had seen it. Anna had designed the interior herself but was only now getting to see it for real. There was a little porch over the steps of number 4, the only house like it in this hub. A distinctive feature she planned to help Cider recall where he lived.

As Prestor was left to unload the sleigh, the two went up the steps and opened the door. Inside they found a little sitting room, not much bigger than the sleigh, a cozy little fireplace with a stack of logs waiting to be lit, and a large front window looking out on the hub and its water well. There was just room enough for a chair and perhaps a sofa. For now, the room was cold and the air still. It smelled of fresh cut wood and paint. To Anna it reminded her of an empty unused closet than a real home, as she tried to shake off a sudden chill that came over her.

She watched carefully to see how Cider reacted. Her friend poked around the room with an air of placid curiosity, likely not understanding that this was to be his residence despite how many times Anna had explained it to him. Cider found the little side room that was to be his bedroom with the adjoining washroom. But it was the last room that Anna held her breath at. Cider stepped into the large room in the rear of the house and let out a cry of surprise. Anna quickly followed.

By far the largest space was the kitchen. A huge central table took up most of the floor space, it was loaded up with pots and pans and all sorts of cooking tools. Along one wall was a series of no less than three fireplaces, there was also a large cast iron stove, and a giant sink. Plenty of cabinets and counter space all in freshly painted white wood with colorful handles. Cider grinned like a Cheshire cat as he zipped around the kitchen exclaiming over all the features and immediately setting to sorting out where he wanted his culinary items to go.

Anna leaned against the wall grinning as she watched. The oversized kitchen was her idea too. Most of the elders’ homes did not have kitchens, only a fireplace or stove suitable for making a quick meal or boiling a kettle. In place of a kitchen, there would be an extra bedroom or a larger sitting room. But Cider was not likely to entertain much company and certainly not have a roommate. For him, the kitchen would keep him busy. And from the look on his face, Anna knew she had made the right choice.

Prestor Ornament and another Husbandry lad came through the front entrance with Cider’s bed. Followed by several boxes of his personal things, mostly elf uniforms and books and the numerous kitchen items. The lads also brought in a chair for the sitting room, an old faded yellow comfy chair they set before the fireplace. That was the last of his belongings. The other items on the sleigh were Anna’s. She still didn’t like the look of the mostly bare sitting room. She made a note to herself to find additional furniture as well as something nice for the walls and perhaps a curtain for the window. Yes, that would make things much better.

Cider wasted no time in getting fires going in the ovens and even in the little fireplace in the front sitting room. He watched silently as the brown hats brought in his belongings. Anna wasn’t sure what he was thinking. She needed to see to her own lodgings, but now she wasn’t so sure about leaving Cider alone with all these sources of fire. In the complex, he’d had no such means in his own room, and when he worked in the kitchens, there were always a hundred other elves around to keep an eye on him. Perhaps she’d not thought this out fully…

Why aren’t they bringing in your stuff? What are they waiting for? Cider asked from the window. The two Husbandry elves were loafing around the sleigh and tossing impatient looks at them, ready to be done with this chore.

Anna sighed. "I’ve mentioned this, Cider. Remember, I won’t be living here. This is your house. I’ll be right next door though."

Oh, was all he said. Then pressing his face against the window, he tried peering off to the right to get a look at the next house. Over there?

No dear, I’m at number 3. It’s to the left. Can you see?

Oh. Yeah. There’s no porch.

No, but it’s all right. I don’t fancy myself sitting about on porches in this cold. Now I need to go and get my things unloaded. If I don’t, Fede is likely to take over the place. If you need…

Cider was not listening. He was rummaging through one of the boxes Prestor had left just inside the door. It was a box of miscellaneous items. She watched as the lad produced a hammer, a nail, and eventually a frying pan. He shot her a knowing grin and went out to the front porch. Anna went along as the sounds of banging filled the little hub. The brown hat lads frowned up at them, trying to ignore the decorating. Quick as that it was done.

There! Cider pronounced proud as anything. His lucky frying pan was now hanging from a post on the porch. Now you won’t get lost, Anna. You’ll know right where I am.

Anna concealed her chagrin behind a grimace and a word of praise for her old friend. She thought it was silly of Cider to hang a frying pan so, but she kept her opinion to herself.

Giving Cider her assurance she’d see him in a little bit and making him promise not to burn the house down, Anna gathered up the Husbandry lads, escorting them the short distance to the neighboring house. Number 3 was as plain looking as any of the other houses ringing the hub. It was two storied with a white plaster front, the peak of which was highlighted with dark wooden beams in the Tudor style. Anna took a box from the sleigh and went inside as the lads began to unload.

It was a quaint little residence. A great deal bigger than her old room in the complex. The sitting room was noticeably warmer than Cider’s had been. The morning’s ashes in the fireplace were smoldering, but kept the chill away. A pair of mismatched chairs stood before the fireplace while her old teacher’s desk sat forlornly in a corner. In another corner stood a rolled-up carpet waiting to be set down. Here and there was a pair of gloves, a coat, some scraps of papers with sketches upon them, a drawing pad and charcoal pencils occupied one of the chairs. Anna tried not to see those out-of-place things. Fede was not the most organized of roommates. But they had lived together for longer than Anna cared to recall, and their new home would offer each their own space.

The layout of the first floor was almost identical to Cider’s. The noticeable difference being the larger sitting room with a tiny little kitchen tucked in the rear, and the addition of a staircase going up to the second level where Fede’s room was. Anna’s bedroom and the single washroom were also down here. She poked her head into the little bedroom, it was not much to see. Just big enough for a bed and a dressing bureau. There was not even a window. A single glowbulb in the ceiling cast a homely glow about the space.

Anna tried stoking the fire as the lads brought in her bed and other things. All the noise must have disturbed the artist, for Fede came bounding down the stairs.

Anna? Oh, it is you! I’m so glad you’re here! What do you think? Did you see the kitchen? Do you like your room? How is Cider getting along?

Fede was a lass of twelve, and one could easily mistake her for being Anna’s sister. Yet beyond the brown eyes and long hair, Fede had only to speak with that distinctive Milanese accent, and the difference between them was as plain as night and day. Fede raddled off questions faster than Anna could answer, not that she gave her a chance. Fede took Anna by the hand and rushed her through a tour of the downstairs rooms as if Anna hadn’t been able to find all three spaces.

The desk is fine where it is… yes, I might like some tea… no, I haven’t thought about a painting… We’ll see about a sofa… or maybe a table… Anna bit off a few comments while they tried not to trip over Prestor and the other lad as the two stacked up boxes here and there.

Oh! You have to come see upstairs! Fede declared and promptly dragged Anna up the steps.

Anna was not entirely shocked at what greeted her, truth be told she had expected her friend to be able to unfold her artistic wings, but this was breathtaking. The second story had no walls, just a large open space dominated by the massive glass window that made up the far wall. Everywhere she looked, Anna saw paintings and drawings stuck to the walls and ceiling. Sketches of elves and Santas, of landscapes and animals, of the Great Christmas Tree and reindeer, some few were finished, but most were only half begun works in charcoal lines, a few with color splashed upon them. There must have been a dozen easels set up with canvas frames holding even more of Fede’s creations. A table held all sorts of mixing cups and plates for making colored paints. Tucked away in a far corner and buried under still more paper sketches was Fede’s bed. And nearby stood their old wardrobe. It looked so small here in this open space, Anna couldn’t believe they had recently shared a room not bigger than the sitting room below. What would they do with so much space? Well, Fede certainly wasn’t having any trouble adjusting.

Fede was the official portrait painter of the North Pole. She was responsible for painting a new master portrait of each Santa who took office. The portraits of every Santa going all the way back to Leopold adorned the hallway that led down to Santa’s oval office. Aside from those, Fede also did commission works for elves who requested pictures of themselves and their friends, and sometimes of their long-lost family who’d they given up to come to the North Pole. In truth there was not exactly enough work to keep an artist like Fede busy all year, so her primary job had been as a seamstress in the Factory. But all that was going to change. Fede was retired from the Factory now, and with time on her hands, she had all sorts of ideas for artistic projects she’d always wanted to do and never had the time or space for.

I’d say there are no limits to what you will be able to accomplish now, Anna told her after receiving the grand tour of the studio. Perhaps you might like applying your hand to decorating our charming abode, we need something for the walls. No elves now, something of a green scenic variety say…

Hmm, I know just the thing. I’ve been experimenting with an impressionist landscape theme. Yes… I know just the thing.

And maybe something for Cider’s house as well, Anna added thoughtfully.

To be sure. I wouldn’t forget about Cider. Fede replied with a coy smile.

Anna didn’t see, she was already descending the stairs. There’s a whole Village to decorate Fede; if you play your cards right you may well find yourself with more patronage than you know. Perhaps you’ll even need to take on an apprentice.

Fede laughed and promised she’d do no such thing.

The hours fleeted away as Anna set about unpacking boxes, fussing over the wrinkled state of her wardrobe, and getting things set just so in her room. Arranging the sheets on the bed and getting a fresh fire started in the sitting room lent the place a more homely feel. Fede floated about between the upstairs and down helping where she could, but mostly bombarding Anna with decorating ideas and lamentations over what some of the other elders were doing with their homes. Fede had not been the first to take up residence in the Village, but she had been here for several days. Anna, for the most part, was not much interested in interior design tips, so long as the place had the necessary comforts and did not feel like a prison cell. After all, there were real problems to worry about. But subtlety and long-term planning were not traits Fede was known for.

It was not until her stomach began to rumble that Anna made a note of the time. One of her most cherished possessions was a little brass clock that had been set on the mantle over the fireplace. It chimed softly, announcing the four o’clock hour of the evening. They were both astonished that the entire day had practically flown by. Outside it was hard to discern the passage of the day as this time of year in late summer the arctic sun did not move much through the sky and the nights were only a couple hours long.

Anna and Fede took out the remains of boxes to be left by the front steps for collection. Throughout the Village, such leftovers from the move could be seen piled up outside the little homes, here and there a stray bit of paper or other undeniable refuse had been stolen by the wind and drifted about aimlessly. It would all get collected eventually.

After a brief stop to collect Cider, who thankfully had not burned down his house nor accomplished much that Anna could see; beyond moving kitchen utensils around in a way that only made sense to Cider, the three elves set off to the Tavern where the evening meal would be prepared and the other retired elves would be gathering.

Located in the center of the Village the Tavern was the largest building. It was an all-purpose space for holding meetings or just for the elves to gather in one place that was out of the cold icy elements of the streets, but it was also the best place to get a meal. As they went inside, they were greeted by a rousing shout of, ANNA! from about fifty elders. This being her first day in the Village it was nice to be so warmly welcomed.

The Tavern was by no means fancy. Tables and chairs of all sorts were scattered about the room. Tall tables, short, round, square, plank benches, stools, armchairs, sometimes no chairs at all… and absolutely nothing matched. The furniture had all been taken from the storage vaults beneath the Warehouse, the cast-offs of elves long gone, along with newer pieces which were procured from places around the world. The walls were bare as was the unfinished wood floor with just as many scuffs as knots. Glowbulbs hung in clusters on crude chains from the ceiling in various settings of white and yellow and orange and even red. At the back of the Tavern was a large kitchen suitable for preparing meals for a crowd. Naturally retired Kitchen elves were running the show back there, setting out steaming pans of food on the counter of the dividing wall making for a hearty buffet. When the kitchen chefs saw Cider, they wasted no time in calling him back and insisting he help them, to which Cider was only too delighted.

Anna was glad of that.

Settling herself at a table where she saw several of her old friends and other acquaintances, they traded the talk of the day and gave her honest opinions of their new home thus far. The table was rough and rickety, especially with a bunch of boisterous elves who threatened to topple over the equally dilapidated bench. Some of the lads were drinking from large steins of a kind ale, a few had managed to procure plates of food already from the kitchen. All in all, the Tavern was not that dissimilar from its counterpart in the complex if not for the absence of colorful department hats.

To her left sat Petra Ravel, a lad of twelve with wavy jet-black hair. Petra was once the head of the Warehouse department. He was telling how his bed, newly designed and built by his own hand, was not able to fit through the opening into his new residence and thus had to be cut into sections and likely he would have to split himself up and sleep in different rooms if he was to get any sleep. The table erupted with a round of applause and fits of laughter. Raul Rossini, Petra’s constant companion and not surprisingly roommate, blew ale from his nose while he choked back a snort at the end of the yarn. Rossini had been a former Factory head and claimed Warehouse elves were all thumbs when it came to actually building anything. Both were old friends of Anna’s and sat on the Council.

The door from outside blew open around that time to emit a strapping lad of fifteen, Wayne his name was. The ex-Husbandry lad hustled in six other brown hats, the ones who’d been driving the sleighs and helping with the move. A hush went around the room as the conversations dropped several decibels and the elders kept their eyes on the Husbandry hands.

No, I insist lads, Wayne was telling his charges in tones that none in the Tavern could mishear. The least we can do is send you back with a hot meal in your belly. Moving a bunch of old geezers works up an appetite, eh?

The six brown hats were not in a position to disagree. Wayne was a force of nature not unlike the notorious Blizzard Dawn, and they were not going to resist. He sat the group at a small table by themselves with a look that suggested they would stay, and they would enjoy their meal. Reluctantly, for they no doubt wanted to return to their fellows in the complex and the ample food being elaborately presented in the dining hall there, the lads sheepishly queued up at the counter to fix themselves plates when it was time. There were no serving elves here after all.

That one could rock a boat in the middle of a desert, Rossini commented. Anna gave Wayne a cool nod as the big lad settled himself at a nearby table where he could keep an eye on the brown hats. He was one of the very few Husbandry elves who when faced with retirement or dismissal had chosen to retire. It was not an easy choice. Brown hats spent their whole lives working out of doors with the reindeer. To be cooped up in a Village with no reindeer nor nothing of the husbandry craft to conduct, what was the point? It was no wonder elder browns over two hundred years took the opportunity to rejoin the human world.

He has the right of it, Petra said taking a drink. You think any of those brown hats will show their faces in this Village after today? Not bloody likely. Wayne used to be a top elf in that department. Here’s his last chance to make sure they don’t forget him.

Anna watched as the six brown hats ate hurriedly and kept their eyes on their own plates. Ever since the two-hundred-year rule went into effect, the complex elves had tried to avoid the elders. As if getting old was some kind of disease. The most infuriating aspect was that the elders were in no way different from even the newest novice elf. At least at first glance. Anna was reminded that in contrast to the young browns the other elves like her all had considerably longer ears. But that was the only physical difference. What really mattered was on the inside, their knowledge of the North Pole, the ways of Christmases past and all the Santas who had come and gone. Yet try to tell that to the young fools. Trying to argue the value of centuries of experience and expertise to an ignorant headstrong elf was pointless.

Once more the door opened with a burst of cold air to emit a tall skinny lad of fourteen. Anna recognized her old student, Witelo. She had not heard of him of late and was under the impression that he’d chosen to leave the North Pole. Witelo fought back an onslaught of yawns as he said a groggy good morning to those who knew him. He wore an old faded green hat of the Warehouse elves. Centuries of solitary work in the depths of the Warehouse had managed to overlook the former scribe of the Archive. Left alone to count toys and cross-check inventories, Witelo kept to himself chasing after wild philosophies and dabbling in mathematics.

That’s Witelo, Rossini mentioned to Anna as the lad in question helped himself to a stein of coffee and settled himself at a table with some of his fellow retired Warehouse elves, though he was the only one with the green hat. Few elders chose to continue wearing the badges of their former departments that had scorned them. Likely, Witelo had not managed to make this observation.

Yes, we go way back, replied Anna. Why does he look like he’s been up all night?

Because he has. Witelo spends all night gazing at the stars and moon.

For what purpose?

Rossini shrugged. Ask him. But be prepared for an astronomical lecture.

Anna supposed that it was only natural for the lad to have to reinvent himself. With their jobs given over to new elves, they would all have to find new interests to occupy the time now. Perhaps for Witelo the opportunity the Village afforded to be out of doors and observe the heavens was a welcomed division from the years spent in the Warehouse’s basements.

She got up from the table and went through the fixings set out, getting together a dinner plate. Duck and venison were on the menu tonight. As well as a vegetable soufflé, the contents of which were unidentifiable, but it looked good and smelled better, so she gave that a try. Soup was available too, but Anna was not quite that hungry. She complimented the chefs who were standing about the kitchen making sure everyone was happy with the meal. Cider was being kept busy by a lass of eight named Caramel Drop, helping her to butter the fresh rolls from the oven. Treacle Tart and Schnitzel offered Anna a sampling of cookies and other sweet delectables, but she turned those down with a promise to return once she’d cleaned her plate.

Those silly Elf Names were typical of Kitchen elves. The yellow hats were quickest to adopt an Elf Name, and it was almost always food related. Anna wondered if they might start using their real names again. After all, if the elders forsook their department’s hat, why not revert back to their real names? She had never liked the idea of giving up her human name. No doubt her refusal to comply with that bit of elf culture only served to work against her, but she would never bow to absurd fads and unfounded mitigation of one’s identity.

Where once the Kitchen elves had worn yellow hats, now they had none. Or rather they had removed the headscarves they’d worn when she first entered the Tavern. But that seemed the way of it here. Few of the elders were representing their former departments. She wondered if perhaps the Village should adopt its own hat and color. That might be worth doing. Perhaps she’d bring it up with the Council.

Hi, Anna!

Hello, Mahler. Anna greeted the exuberant lad of thirteen. She was perusing the sliced bread and fresh rolls. Mahler shuffled along the food line loading up a plate in a careless way trying to keep close to her.

Anna, Mahler asked dropping his voice low and practically whispering in her ear. Have you given any thought to my request?

I only arrived today Mahler, and I haven’t even had time to think about organizing my sock drawer. I haven’t forgotten though. I will bring it up when the Council next convenes.

Oh yes… said Mahler a little crestfallen. I didn’t mean to rush you. I only arrived today too. I… my house is bigger than my old room. And that Dante lad, he’s an odd one. I never did know him from our Guild days. Bit of a grandiose poet if you ask me.

Yes, well I’m sure you’ll make the most of it. I will speak with you later.

Anna quickly headed back to her table and was thankful there was no other vacant place available, lest Mahler think