And inside you're burning
with some secret yearning
ENOUGH! The word cracks through the air like a whip, resounding heartily across the group of battling elves and demons. Lirren freezes, just as the rest of the group does. She can hear the chiming of bells, and she knows before she even turns around who has arrived. Santa. Her silvery gaze turns skyward, disbelieving even in spite of all the events that had taken place that night. She had known Santa must be real, but the truth doesn’t really sink in until her eyes are locked on that floating sleigh. On the reindeer harnessed to its front. Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen. The lyrics of that ridiculous song echo through her head as the names come to her. No Rudolph though. How odd.
Although, given all the odd things she has seen today, the lack of Rudolph heading the team is the least of them.
And then suddenly everything is happening at once. Saint Nick has challenged the Grinch, daring him to come get him. The demons are running off, the elves are straightening themselves and preparing to depart. And Lirren is simply standing there, gaping stupidly at them all.
Mr. Thimble turns towards her, hand outstretched as he gestures for her to join them. ”Come, Miss Lirren,” he says in that no-nonsense tone of his. ”We must go. Quickly.” Shaking off her reverie, she stumbles forward, forgetting for a moment that she is still wearing the too large boots. As she drops her hand to grab his, the sleeve of her jacket falls over it, though the elf seems to have no trouble finding her hand underneath all the fabric. As soon as her bare hand touches his gloved one, the world shifts. Between one blink and the next, she has been transport to somewhere entirely new. A place she does not recognize at first.
Around her she sees trees, well sculpted hedges, a manicured lawn. Gardens. Turning in a circle, her eyes fall on a fountain spilling clear blue water. Then on a building to the right of the fountain, square and plain. A classic European design that always seems to house something official. Entirely unremarkable, in other words. As her gaze turns, lifts, her eyes fall on a building that is the very opposite of the other. From here she can only see the top part of the building. Pale stone and a clay red roof. This is not what catches her attention however. No, it is the dome on top. A very distinctive dome. It is only when she recognizes the place from pictures she has seen that shock truly sets in.
”Hoo-lyyy shit,” she whispers. Although, given their current location, that was perhaps the wrong epithet to use. Turning to Mr. Thimble, she stares at him with wide eyes for long a moment before she is finally able to stutter out ”Is this… is this really the Vatican? The Basilica of St. Peter?”
Mr. Thimble glances around him with mild interest. ”Why, I believe it is, Miss Lirren. Fancy that.”
Her eyebrows nearly disappear into her hairline at his blasé attitude towards the whole thing. How could he not find this place entirely fascinating? Lirren had always dreamed of traveling the world. Of being able to behold these magnificent sights with her own two eyes.
But then again, perhaps this is normal for the little elf. Gazing around herself with wonder, she remains mute for a time. At least, until the urgency of their situation catches up with her and she shakes off her wonder as best she can. ”Why have we stopped here?” she finally asks, ashamed of how long it took her to ask such an obvious question.
Mr. Thimble smiles reassuringly, as though he recognizes her self-reprimand. ”’Tis only a pit stop, as you would say. We need some time for the magic to rekindle before moving on.”
Ah. Yes, she can understand that all too well. Memories come forward, memories of her life as a horse. Of the magic she had wielded so freely. But even that magic had not been limitless. It had been possible to over-extend its use. And no doubt the Christmas magic has been stretched very thin this day.
But alas, it seems they are not to be left in peace while the magic regains its strength. The sound of a vehicle startles her, drawing her attention back to the road behind her. ”Miss Lirren, we must hide!” It is another elf who speaks this time, one whose name she does not know. Nodding, she turns to follow them.
But they are too slow.
”Arrestare!” An authoritative voice rings out as the motor cuts. Shit. She doesn’t speak Italian. She can only hope that these elves do. Actually, she really rather hopes the little men haven’t been seen. She doesn’t know what these strangers might do in the face of a whole horde of Santa’s little helpers.
The elves continue to scurry forward, so Lirren follows suit. She can hear the distant footsteps of the man behind them as he approaches, speaking into the walkie talkie clipped to his shoulder as he does so. ”Ho detto smettere!” He calls out after them, more urgently this time.
The elves don’t stop, so neither does she. She really hopes they know what they are doing. As if to belie her words, a shot rings out behind her. The bullet grazes past her shoulder, slamming into a tree and sending splinters flying even as Lirren dives for the cover of the nearest hedge. Her heart thuds wildly in her chest as her adrenaline kicks in, honing her senses and focusing her on only one thing: escape.
The elves have also darted for cover, scampering up trees and diving into bushes much as she had done. Peeking out from behind her impromptu shield, she finds the man slowly advancing upon them. He is wearing navy blue pants, a crisp white shirt with epaulettes on the shoulders, and a badge tucked into his front pocket. Great. This must be the Italian version of the police.
Deciding to go for a broke, she calls out to the man, hoping he will be able to understand her English. ”I’m sorry, Sir. I don’t know Italian.”
There is a pause as his footsteps cease. He seems to be waiting for something. This pause is ended when she hears him make a sound of disgust followed by a grunted ”Americanos.” This she needs no help in translating. She’s also fairly certain she should be offended.
”You trespass, Americano.”
Well, at least he knows English passingly well. Deciding to take a leap of faith, she edges out from behind the bush until she can see the man, keeping her hands where he can see them as a precaution. ”I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” she says, her tone placating. ”We’ll just leave then.”
The guard shakes his head at that, his gun still pointing at her. ”No, you come with me.”
Well, this is certainly not going as planned. Belatedly she realizes he must have called for backup as several other small vehicles appear and skid to a halt. Men bail out of each car, guns already in their hands and pointed at her. Jeez, how much trouble did they expect one woman to give them? Well, one woman and nine elves.
Suddenly the guns are ripped from each guard’s hands by an unseen force, the weapons landing with a clatter just in front Lirren, much to her surprise. Before she even has time to react, all of the elves are running towards her. The magic must be ready, she realizes. Wasting no time, she turns and reaches a hand out to the elves. The last thing she hears as they disappear into the ether is the angry shouting of the police they had just left behind.
When they materialize once again, they are surrounded by forest and snow. Taking stock of their new location, she finds herself faced with one of the most beautiful sights she has ever seen. They are on top of a tall rise, the forest stretching out before them in miles and miles of mountainous terrain. She notes several odd rock formations in the distance. Formations she feels she should be able to recognize, though the name or location won’t come to her just then. She knows only that they are in a remote area, surrounded by acres of pine trees and untouched snow that glitters in the weak sunlight.
The elves huddle together, conversing quietly amongst themselves. Lirren joins them, figuring she may as well be in on the plan. It seems that each jump is taking them closer and closer to the North Pole. The next one should get them there. From what she can understand, they are currently somewhere in the Russian wilderness. Before they can continue however, a mournful howl echoes across the hills and valleys. A howl that is quickly followed by several others.
Lirren immediately jerks herself upright, glancing around with wide silver eyes. The elves have straightened as well, peering at each other with worried glances. The elf that had spoken to her before, the one whose name she does not yet know, comes to her side. He grabs her hand, urging her along. ”We should keep moving while we wait for the next ‘port,” he says quietly. Lirren heartily agrees.
As they walk through the forest, the elves somehow manage to dance across the snow without sinking through the surface. She studies the traveling band with blatant interest. They are lithe and graceful little creatures, able to move far more quickly than she might have given them credit for. Even with her significantly longer legs, she struggles to keep up. Of course, it doesn’t help that her feet keep slipping inside her overly large boots, effectively prohibiting any graceful or efficient movement. She is starting to wish she had taken more care in choosing her footwear.
”You know, I don’t even know most of your names. Besides Mr. Thimble, of course,” she says after several minutes of silence, offering the aforementioned elf a small smile. The elf leading her tugs at her hand slightly, drawing her attention. ”I’m sorry, Miss Lirren, but we must be quiet,” he says in an urgent whisper. ”I am Mr. Pimble. We would be happy to introduce ourselves properly once we reach the North Pole.”
Lirren clamps her mouth shut, realizing belatedly that perhaps she should not have allowed her curious and gregarious personality to overwhelm good sense. As if to emphasize the point, another round of howls split the air. These ones are much closer. Far too close for comfort, as far as she is concerned.
Perhaps she had jinxed them somehow, for they had not even gone another quarter mile when the first wolf appears in the distance. The group breaks into a quick lope. At first she thinks the creature must be quite close. Studying it as well as she is able to at a run, she soon notes just how wrong she was about the wolf’s distance. It had actually been quite far away. But as it closes in, quickly followed by at least three others, more and more terror suffuses her features with each glance. It looks as though it is actually quite massive. And unfortunately the distance doesn’t seem to matter much. The small pack closes quickly, crossing the snowy wilderness with swift ease.
Oh god.
She starts praying, hoping that the magic warms up enough to jump soon. Very soon. She can hear their heavy panting now, can imagine the steam from the breath even if she is not looking at it. Can almost feel it on her neck.
A sudden crack rings through the air. She whips around wildly, just in time to see one of the massive trees that fill the forest falling over. Directly onto the group of wolves. She can only imagine it must have been the work of one of the elves. They don’t stop to look however. Instead they are running, telling her to hurry, and so she does. She sprints as fast as she can.
Unfortunately the tree did not stop all of the wolves. While it seems to have reduced the pack number by one, the remaining three are quickly back at the chase, nipping at their heels again all too soon. Suddenly a branch catches her eye. One that had fallen from its parent tree. One that appears to be quite sturdy.
The wolves are too close. Even so, she pauses to snatch the thing up. Perhaps it is fortunate that she had ducked down to retrieve the branch when she did, for at that very moment, she hears a vicious snarl and feels the passing wind of something sailing over her head. The massive wolf lands about ten feet from her, cutting off her path to the elves. Clutching the branch to her chest, she flings her wide-eyed gaze from one wolf to the next. Two of the beasts have focused on the group of elves. The remaining one has focused its vivid yellow gaze upon her.
She has watched too much Game of Thrones, she thinks. These creatures look far too similar to the giant dire wolves on the show. They certainly look just as lethal. As the thing comes closer, she swears she can smell its fetid breath. Suddenly it leaps. Lirren, as ready as she will ever be, swings the branch at the wolf. To her amazement, the large beast flies twenty feet through the air before slamming heavily into a tree trunk and falling into a crumpled heap at its base.
It is only then that she realizes Santa must have given her some of his magic. Unfortunately, the massive wolves seem to have some sort of magic surrounding them as well. To her dismay, the battered wolf clambers to his feet and shakes himself, almost as though he can simply shake the injuries off. And, even more alarming, she sees the fourth wolf, the one who had been crushed under the tree, rejoining his brethren.
True fear clutches at her throat as she glances anxiously towards the group of elves. They seem to be holding their own against the pair of wolves stalking them. Barely.
Before the two remaining wolves can target her once again, she bolts for the elves, crossing her fingers that they might be able to try that teleport now. She is almost there until, seemingly out of nowhere, one of the massive gray wolf leaps onto her, crushing her slight frame beneath his. The stench of his breath is overwhelming, his nails digging sharply into her even through her thick winter jacket. She can almost feel his teeth ripping at her throat already.
This cannot be how it ends. It simply can’t.
A sudden force lifts the wolf bodily off of her even as his teeth scrabble for flesh, leaving several bloody gouges in her cheek. As the weight is removed, she claps her hand to her cheek, curling in on herself as the shock and horror set in.
In the next moment, elves are surrounding her, clutching at her with little fingers. She glances up to see everyone except Mr. Pimble. Looking around for the familiar little face, she sees him a short distance off, facing the wolves alone. ”Mr. Pimble!” she shouts, desperately calling for him to join them. But a sick feeling has settled in her gut.
The last thing she sees of him is a small, sad smile tossed over his shoulder even as the world dissolves around them.
”NO!” she screams, but the word echoes into nothingness. As they land in a thick, powdery layer of snow, she gazes into the spot where Mr. Pimble had disappeared with a blank stare. It takes her a long moment to realize that they have made it. They are at the North Pole, just outside of Santa’s workshop.
Except they aren’t all here. They have arrived one short.
Lirren
starlit daughter of joythief and carnage
Places visited: Vatican City, Italy and Krasnoyarsk Stolbi, Russia
Obstacles Encountered: Corps of Gendarmerie of Vatican City, Dire Wolves
Magic Used: Telekinesis on guns, tree, and wolf x2