C H A P T E R    O N E

Cookies and Calamities

(4 months til' Christmas)

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                  THEY PUT HARRY in charge of the cookies today. He loved this job; he got to spend several hours supervising the elflings without interruption, and, depending on the type of cookie they were instructed to bake, sometimes they were allowed outside for an impromptu snowball fight or snowman-building competition while they waited for the first batch to finish in the oven. He liked to have little Frieda on his team for either activity. She was his favorite kind of feisty.

                  Really, though, he didn't prefer any elfling over another. It didn't matter. No matter the elfling, he'd rather have their company over the company of any other elf. The elflings were too young to have lost their spark yet, to become the cheerless shells of the elves their parents and the other elders were now. Harry was terrified of turning into that, so he surrounded himself with the elflings as often as possible.

                  As he rummaged through the cupboards for the sprinkles and cookie-cutters, he thought about his future as an elder, uncertain for a moment about whether he'd lose his spark or not before he remembered a very important detail that erased all of his worry almost immediately: he was half human. And humans never lost their Christmas cheer.

                 "Alright, I come bearing gifts," Harry announced as he returned to the large table, squeezing himself into a spot between Frieda and another elfling called Spencer. Everyone's faces lit up when Harry lowered his armful of goods onto the table. "We've got to split into three committees, and I can't be in charge of all of them. Do we have any aspiring Elder Elves in here?"

                  Hands popped up all around the table, less than Harry expected there'd be, but definitely more than the two that he needed. He rubbed his hands together and pursed his lips, eyeing the rosy-cheeked little faces staring back at him hopefully. "Hmm. Erica," Harry pointed, "you look like you spent a lot of time on your hair this morning. I like an elf who knows how to clean up. We'll put you in charge of the dough-cutting committee."

                  Erica lowered her hand, nodding curtly as if Harry'd just assigned her to the front line of an army. He slid her the sack of cookie-cutters from across the empty table.

                  "Okay. Greg, you've got a knack for design, yes?"

                  Greg, an exceptionally small elfling for his age with hair the color of cinnamon and freckles everywhere, nodded quickly, his eyes widening with anticipation.

                  "Perfect. You'll head the decorating committee." The elflings began to whisper amongst themselves then, so Harry had to speak a little louder. "I'll head the baking committee. Split yourselves up into the three groups, and whoever's joining the baking committee let's make some room at the table and head over to the counters."

                  Elflings were efficient and smart. Harry loved this about them. For the most part, the committees ended up being pretty equal in size; when one seemed larger than the other two, a handful of elflings would realize this and volunteer to join a different group. The dough-cutting and decorating committees split the table into two halves, staying out of each other's ways and organizing their supplies so that they'd be ready for the first batch of cookies to make the rounds.

                  That wouldn't happen until Harry's committee got to work. He pulled out a large bowl and gave everyone jobs, passing the bowl along like an offering plate, and his elflings played their parts perfectly. He did the mixing and supervising, but otherwise Harry hardly had to help them. When they were all finished, he brought the ball of dough to Erica's committee.

                  "Here you are," he smiled at her.

                  "Thank you." Erica handed the dough and a roller to Frieda, who went to work immediately while the others began to cover the table in flour and pick out their favorite cookie-cutters. By the time Harry returned to his corner of the kitchen, his elflings were already beginning the next batch.

❄●❄

                   "MAKE SURE YOU haven't forgotten your scarves or mittens!" Harry called over his shoulder as he began to lead everyone out of the kitchen and into the cold. Fourteen of them, Harry included, carried wrapped plates with a dozen cookies each carefully down the icy path that led to the dining hall. Harry was grateful the Maintenance Elves had gotten this far today with their shovels; there'd been a blizzard the night before and the pathway to the kitchen often gets neglected as it's so out of the way. It might have still been icy, but at least they wouldn't be trudging through knee-deep snow.

                  There were no incidents on the way to the dining hall. Harry and the other thirteen elflings that had been carrying the cookies delivered their plates to the dessert table, and then he bid them farewell so that they could return to their parents.

                  Harry's mother smiled at her son when he took his seat beside her at the table in the far right corner of the hall. They always sat back here, have for as long as Harry could remember. "How'd it go?" she asked, removing her hat so that she could fix the loose bun she'd tied her hair into that morning.

                  "Really great. Ed never showed, but the elflings were all well-behaved as always," Harry told her, peeking over his shoulder to see if the carrot-top in question was going to make an appearance for food that he was allowed to eat.

                  "Harry," his mother said, "look at me when we're talking, bub."

                  "Sorry."

                  The hall was filling quickly with the elves of the second sector. The North Pole was separated into five sectors technically, but nobody referred to Claus Village as the fifth sector. It sat at the center of the other four and was essentially just Santa's mansion and the Elf Council building. The second sector, where Harry and his mother and sister lived, was responsible for raising and educating and training the elflings. Harry's mum and his sister Gemma were teachers; Gemma had just begun her first year.

                   The first sector was where the factories were. If Santa couldn't be found at Claus Village, he was likely in the first sector overseeing his Worker Elves. Harry's only been to the first sector a handful of times, and for as long as he can continue to avoid it, he'll never go back. The Worker Elves weren't particularly the most pleasant.

                  Harry liked the third sector. That was where the reindeer stables were. Sometimes, when he had nothing else to do, he'd go to the arena there and watch the Stable Elves train the yearlings. The yearlings were clumsy and clueless, but it was fascinating to see how well the Stable Elves knew how to do their jobs. After just a week, a yearling that was totally unable to fly in a straight line would be able to fly laps around the arena flawlessly.

                  The fourth sector was where Harry went to work when he wasn't helping with the elflings, which he volunteered to do mostly on the weekends. Weekday mornings, he traveled through the third sector by horse-drawn sleigh to his favorite place in all of the North Pole: the Hit-Maker House.

                  "What's on your mind?" his mum asked, regaining his attention.

                  "Nothing. 'M sorry. How was work?"

                  This successfully distracted his mother from his poor social skills. She launched into a tale about an argument she got into with an elf-in-training, one just a few years younger than Harry was. Harry knew she didn't like to argue with her students, but it was unavoidable sometimes. It happened most often with elflings whose parents were Worker Elves from the first sector, which didn't surprise anyone, really.

                  Harry was sort of grateful today was a normal day of work for her. His mother had gotten herself into something recently that he hated hearing about, so he tried to avoid talking about it as much as possible, but he never remembered which days of the week she spent at the Elf Council. He made a mental note that Sundays were thankfully not one of those days.

                 While she spoke, Harry pretended to pay close attention even though he felt a sudden presence on his other side waiting for his attention. After what felt like forever, Gemma asked their mother a question and Harry was free to turn away.

                  "Hello, mate. How was cookie duty today?" Ed asked, propping his elbow up onto the table.

                   "Ed," Harry greeted him. "Where've you been?"

                  The carrot-top shrugged. "Wasn't really feeling it today, I don't know. What kind did you guys make?"

                  "Sugar. You can't just skip your volunteer work," Harry sighed, annoyed. "You're going to get into more trouble."

                  "It's not volunteer work for me, in case you've forgotten."

                  "Yeah, it's punishment for skipping your actual job, in case you've forgotten."

                   Ed waved a hand. "It's not a big deal anyway." Then, after a moment where Harry had no clue how to respond to his idiot friend, Ed continued. "Is it time to eat yet? I didn't drag myself out here to sit around and - "

                  "Ed," Harry hissed, lowering his own voice with the hopes that Ed would do the same before he says something that would get him into even more trouble. "Quit being rude. What's the matter with you today?"

                  Harry knew, though. Sometimes Ed had bad days. Both his parents died when he was young, so he was handed off between several different households to be cared for before he was finally old enough to live on his own. This had obviously impacted the way he carried himself now, and Harry often felt like his father more than his friend, but he did his best to keep him in line regardless. When Ed was having a good day, Harry loved to be around him.

                  Instead of waiting for a response, Harry shook his head quickly and said softly, "At least save your outbursts until later when it's just you and me, alright? And look, the front tables are lining up to eat already. Cool your jets."

                  "Why do you guys sit all the way in the back?" Ed sighed. "It's so unfortunate."

                  Harry rolled his eyes but bit his tongue.

                  The four of them ate dinner - seasoned pork with a side of mashed potatoes and green beans (and frosted sugar cookies for dessert, of course) - and then the boys parted ways with Gemma and their mother for the evening. Harry had his own place, but he always sleeps over at Ed's on Sunday nights. In the morning, they take the sleigh together to the Hit-Maker House to begin the work week.

                  "So what's on your mind?" Harry asked once they were completely out of ear-shot from everyone, safe and distanced on the path that leads only to Ed's place. While he waited for Ed's response, Harry tilted his head back and gazed at the dim sky; it was beginning to snow.

                  "I received a message this morning," Ed started, a bitter smile curling up a corner of his chapped lips. Harry didn't like that expression on him, thought it made him look a lot like the Worker Elves looked whenever they completed a toy that worked perfectly. "Remember when we asked about completion of our training last week?"

                  "Sure. Won't we be promoted in time for December? Isn't that what they said?"

                  "Yeah, that's what they said," Ed nodded. "Turns out they lied."

                  "What?"

                  "The Elder Elves have created a new policy. Apparently there isn't a lot of interest in the holiday season amongst the humans this year."

                   Harry frowned, letting Ed's words echo in his head a couple times before asking, "What new policy? Why wouldn't they promote us? We're good at our jobs, and our jobs are to create interest in the holidays."

                  "I know it is, but they don't think it's working."

                  At this point, Harry stopped walking. "So they're shutting down the Hit-Maker House?"

                  "No."

                  "Then what? Why won't they promote us? We've already been in training three years longer than almost any other elf has to be." The only other elves who need more training than those who work in the Hit-Maker House are the ones who want to be teachers.

                  "I know, Harry. It's not just us. No one is getting promoted this year," Ed said.

                  "I wish you'd tell me what's going on, because this doesn't make any - "

                  "There's nothing to be promoted to this year. Christmas isn't happening. The North Pole and Santa are going on hiatus."

                  Harry stared at his friend for a long time before he was able to react in any way. His brain didn't seem to be working. The snow fell harder as the two boys stood there in silence, and after a while, it was Ed who finally broke the stillness. "Well, I'm going in. It's freezing out here. You still coming?"

                  Harry's been waiting to be promoted for years. There's no way this could possibly be happening. He was supposed to have his own office in the Hit-Maker House by December 1st. He was going to change the way humans looked at Christmas. He was... He had too many plans for this year! How could this be happening?

                  "I'll see you tomorrow," Harry mumbled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat and turning back the way they came. Ed didn't question him or stop him.

                  There were few elves who knew anything about the Elder Elves without actually being Elder Elves themselves, and Harry had a lot of questions for one of them. He just hoped she hadn't headed to bed yet.