I hoped it would be carolers. Maybe I was old-fashioned and out of touch with the times, but people going from door to door singing about the joy of Christmas warmed my heart, especially after the year I had. I tried not to look at the three urns on the mantle.
I looked through the peephole of the front door and did not see a crowd of people dressed in Victorian outfits singing “Joy to the World”, rather a young woman bundled up a little more than necessary. It was cold, but not “fur coat, hood, heavy wool skirt, and mittens” cold. I opened the door cautiously.
“May I help you miss?” I said hesitantly.
“Yes, please you must, son of Adam. May I come in?” She replied quickly.
“Oh...okay...” I said with a raised eyebrow. As I spoke, she came inside and I quickly shut the door to trap the warmth in the house. The sound of the door closing startled her.
“Is everything okay, miss?” I asked. She did not answer.
“Please have a seat by the fire,” I continued.
She shuffled over to the couch and sat down near the brick fireplace. She was hugging herself and rocking slightly back and forth. I shivered a little as the heat in the room inexplicably changed. It was as if the fire itself was aiming its heat directly at her and away from everywhere else.
“Are you cold? Do you need something to eat?” I asked. The spirit of Christmas is real, even if I no longer believed.
“Y-Yes,” she replied. I went into the kitchen and heated up some chicken soup for this mysterious lady. I returned to the front room with the bowl of soup and a spoon. She sat and stared at the spoon with her large, unblinking eyes.
“I cannot use this iron implement,” she said, pointing to the spoon, which I put away. She grabbed the bowl with her mittens and drank deeply of the soup. I cringed a little as I heard her greedily slurping up the noodles.
“Would you like some more soup?” I asked as I took the bowl away.
Her shoulders visibly relaxed as the spoon was removed from her presence. “Yes...but I have no valuables to pay for it,” she said, fear in her voice.
“You owe me nothing,” I interrupted, “It is Christmas time. Shouldn’t we all be a little more giving this time of year?”
Tears began to form in the corners of her too-large eyes. Somehow, her eyes seemed to be entirely black, as if the eye was a giant pupil and nothing else. I quickly exited the room to get more soup. When I returned more soup, her eyes were completely dry, as if nothing had happened. I handed her a plastic spoon and she easily gripped it through her mitten.
“Miss, I will gladly take your coat and mittens,” I said. After putting the spoon down, she stood up and delicately removed her outer garments. I stood still and tried not to stare as she handed them to me.
She was not human.
Her ears were long and came to a point at the same height as the top of her head. I cannot pinpoint exactly how, but her bodily proportions were not quite right. Her fingers were just a little bit too long and her entire body was impossibly skinny. Underneath her coat, which was a normal fur coat, she wore a dress made of light. It was the comforting light of a child’s night light made solid. I blinked several times and, in my stupefied state, I dropped her coat.
“Sorry...I...err...Miss...” I stammered as I picked it back up. She looked at me with her enormous eyes and I saw something flicker briefly in their dark depths. Fear? Sadness? Apprehension?
“Forgive me Son of Adam,” she said. “I forget that your kind is not used to us. I know you have a lot of questions. I will be glad to answer them for you. However, I wish to ask of you a single boon. Take me to the church tonight.”
I snapped out of the haze that I had floating in. Who was this mysterious woman? Was she even a woman? What had I invited into my home? The fact that I had not been to church since the funeral slipped my mind entirely.
“Do you swear that your intentions are noble? I will drop you off at the church, so long as you promise that you will not harm anyone,” I said.
“I do not swear,” came her soft reply, “It is forbidden. I promise I shall not harm anyone at the church. The One who sits on the Throne will judge me harshly if I deliberately harm any humans.”
Chastised, I accepted that response and began asking her questions. She introduced herself as Liiassargher. I could not pronounce that to save my life, so I called her Leah. Apparently, she was what we would call an elf. She was not a Tolkien-type elf, but an older type; the type that stole babies from their mothers before replacing them with changelings, turned invisible, and danced wildly in the light of the full moon. She was fleeing elf-kind and believed that she could find safety at the church.
“That is quite a story, Leah,” I said once she finished, “but why did you want to leave your kind?”
“A dream,” she said, “I had a dream of a man in white. He told me many strange and wondrous things. He told me to seek you out, but I am forbidden from telling you more.”
For some reason, I believed her. I could not explain why I believed such an incredible tale, but in my gut, something said that she was being honest with me. I agreed to take her to church, as soon as I got my coat and gloves on. As I was trying to figure out how to hide her “fae-ness”, she interrupted me.
“Can we leave now?” she blurted out suddenly, “Can we go to church?”
“One moment, it is cold out there. Let me get my coat…” I began.
“LIIASSARGHER. COME OUT NOW!” Came a booming voice outside the back door. Leah whimpered and began to tremble.
“I’m sorry...I’m sorry…” Leah repeated softy.
“Who is that?” I whispered harshly.
“It is the Elf-King. He has come for me. I fled, but he found me. Son of Adam, he found me,” she half-said, half-cried. As she spoke, the back door shook, nearly coming off the hinges.
“No,” I said. Leah looked at me with a confused expression on her face. “He has no claim here. You have come into my home. You are my guest and I will not violate my responsibility as a host by surrendering you to him,” I continued, surprising myself with my intensity. The year had claimed too many kind and innocent people. My eyes were drawn to the urns. I decided not to let it claim another.
“You cannot have her!” I yelled.
“I hear you, human. I have no quarrel with you. Yet. Surrender Liiassargher now and I will forgive your audacity.” The Elf-King’s voice was regal and authoritative. In my mind, I found myself agreeing with him. His claim was just. Of course the Elf-King had authority over all elfs. His claim was just. Leah’s story about a man in white was surely some strange trick meant to put me at ease, so that she could do something evil to me. His claim was just. The king was here to take her back to her people, where she belonged. His claim was just.
I took a step toward her. His claim was just. As I took a second step, I felt the rosary that I wore around my neck, more out of habit than belief, burn. My mind instantly refocused and I felt a new thought infuse my soul. A higher King had a claim on Leah. I picked up the fire poker with grim determination.
“Leah, the Elf-King has no claim on you. So long as I draw breath, I will not allow him to take you,” I said to her. I knelt down in front of her and continued in a soft voice, “Should I fall, flee to the west. Look for the building with the cross on top. That is the church.” Leah looked at me with a confused look on her face, until I demonstrated what a cross looked like with my fingers.
“Well human? Do you surrender her?” asked the Elf-King. His honeyed words were anathema to me now.
“No.” was my reply as my fingers tightened around the fire poker. As I spoke that one word, all the windows in the house simultaneously shattered, letting the cold wind in. The back door also flew open, coming off the hinges and crashing into the kitchen table, reducing both to splinters.
In walked a royal figure, dressed in the finest purple robes I have ever seen. This was clearly the Elf-King. Upon the Elf-King’s head was a crown made of gold that seemed to be not be entirely solid, but flowed like a river of honey. Occasionally a small wave appeared on its perfectly polished surface. From the top of his head rose deer-like antlers, adding at least another foot and a half of height to his already impressive figure. He was impossibly tall, at least 8 feet from toe to tip of the antlers, but he walked through the door without stooping. In his left hand, he held a wooden scepter wrapped in ivy. Even though it had snowed yesterday, no snow from the yard fell upon the floor as he walked. He looked me over slowly, then pointed one bony finger at Leah.
“As King of all Elfs, I name you, Liiassargher, a traitor to us all. The sentence I pronounce is fit for a traitor. Death. As for you, spawn of dust, for your resistance, upon you, you who aided and abetted a traitor, I pronounce the same sentence. If you submit to me now, I shall make it painless,” The Elf-King said with a smirk as he strode into the front room.
Fear coursed through my veins, but I had made a promise. I deliberately stepped between Leah and the Elf-King. I planted my feet firmly and gripped the fire poker tightly with both hands, until my knuckles were as white as the snow outside.
“A different King has laid claim on her,” I said, “and your claim upon her life is no longer valid. I defy you, Elf-King. Leave now.”
“You defy me mortal? I, who existed long before your race came to these lands? I have caused empires to rise and fall. I have wrestled with sea serpents and battled dragons in the skies. The mighty trolls of the North still pay me tribute from a war eons ago. The Emperor of the Seven Seas has shared the secrets of the deep with me. Who do you think you are?” said the Elf-King in a haughty voice.
“I am no one special,” I replied, “just a man with a heart of pain and hate that has now found an outlet for it.”
“Just you. A mere mortal, fashioned from dust, whose brief life will amount to nothing. No one will remember you when you are gone, for they will be gone too. Your race is one full of meaningless mediocrities, of which you are the most mediocre of them all. You have not even found a new mate and procreated again to replace the ones you lost. But we could talk all night. I have a traitor to dispose of,” said the Elf-King dismissively.
When I did not flee after his speech, but stood my ground instead, he swung his scepter sideways at me. I backed up a step and as the scepter crashed in the fireplace, a brick fell to my feet with an audible thud. In a rage, I lunged forward with the fire poker, swinging wildly at the Elf King as if I was desperately trying to hit a home run, but he deftly avoided my clumsy attack. An incredible pain erupted in my back, as the scepter connected with my spine and I fell to the floor. I tried to pick myself up, but found my legs were not responding to my mental commands.
“Pathetic,” sneered the Elf-King. He kicked me in my ribs and rolled me over onto my back. The agony within me flared up anew. Every nerve in my back was erupting with agony. He stood over me and raised his scepter above his head, a wicked grin on his cruel face. He wanted me to see my doom come. I clenched my teeth in determination; I was not going to die without a fight. 30 minutes ago, I did not believe in elfs and now I was in a life-or-death struggle with their king.
I knew that I lacked the strength to block the scepter, so with my remaining strength, I feebly swung the fire poker at the Elf-King’s left ankle. It connected, or rather, it did not. It passed through his ankle as if it was not even there, but his foot detached and a viscous blue liquid dripped out of the stump and all over the freshly-vacuumed carpet.
The Elf-King erupted in a scream of pain. He fell against the mantle and knocked the urns onto the floor. By some miracle, they did not spill their contents.
“You dare! You assault me with your iron! I shall never forgive your kind this indignity. Know this human, my vengeance shall be merciless. I will cleanse this town of all life! Not even a rat shall escape my wrath! You have not only doomed yourself, but all you hold dear.” When my sister and her family came over for Christmas Day lunch, they would find my broken body. The shock of that event would surely put my nieces and nephews into therapy for years. If the Elf-King laid an ambush, he could wipe out what as left of my family.
“Know this and despair!” ranted the Elf-King. The scepter went up into the air again. I had failed. I failed Leah, I failed my family, and I failed my community. Nothing I did now could stop that. All I had left was an unfilled promise to a stranger.
“Run Leah!” I shouted before darkness took me.
* * *
I awoke on my couch. Warmth and comfort filled every fiber of my being where pain once held me in its iron grip. Leah sat in an armchair next to me with a piping hot cup of tea in her hand.
“Here you are Son of Adam,” she said sweetly as she handed me the cup. I sat up and looked around. I was fully intact; I even wiggled my toes, just to confirm the fact that my body was whole. The fireplace was undamaged, the windows were all in place, and the back door was firmly on its hinges. I accepted the cup with a dumbstruck look on my face.
“What happened?” I finally asked, before sipping the tea. It tasted like fresh mint and sunshine. A warmth beyond merely sitting near a fire flooding every fiber of my being.
“Many events have transpired, Son of Adam. The One you turned your back on has made you whole. You have done the impossible; you have grievously injured the Elf-King. Unlike your wounds, his will never heal, just like his pride. You have made a powerful enemy today, but for tonight we are safe,” stated Leah.
“Safe? But he is still out there?” I said. Leah frowned and cocked her head to the side as if she was listening to something faint. She nodded once and turned back to me with a sad smile on her face.
“Could you please take me to your chariot?” she asked, “I wish to go to the church.”
I got off the couch and out on my coat. After locking up, I escorted her to my car, but before I opened the door, she tugged on my arm.
“Listen, she said.
“I don't hear anything,” I replied.
Then my ears were opened.
A million voices all sang out in unison, singing a song as old as time itself. The language they spoke was not English, but I understood every word. I fell to my knees and put my head against the car door, as hot tears streamed down my cold cheeks.
"Can you hear them?" Leah said, "The stars are singing. They sing for the lost. They sing for you."
Author's Note: I know it is not Christmas time. But when I saw this old story on my hard drive, I made a couple edits to it and released it. I wrote this before I discovered Steemit, the PulpRev, or that fact that elves are lame, just as an FYI.
Picture Credit: "fire" by Arun Marsh is licensed under CC by 2.0
