The Unknown Elf

One

DRIFTS OF THICK, midnight lace sifted in the arctic winds of the North Polar Region. These winds threw the delicate bits of frozen filigree like torn fragments of spider silk. They dusted everything in sight, finishing a delayed spring-cleaning. Dark clouds hung low, barely letting in a pale-blue light. The moon hid inside its fairy ring in the only real opening in the sky. A few stars peeped through the cracks, hoping to catch the delicate sheen of the winter lace.

An elf walked across the barren, windswept trail. His long hair tried, without success, to escape the hood where his face shown a light red near high cheekbones. Deep, chocolate brown eyes reflected the night sky. He stared out, contemplating the darker blue shadows of the frozen wasteland. Clarence shivered. The night was colder than usual, not that it bothered him. He was far too familiar with the cold.

His gaze swept over the landscape, thoughts turning to his last errand. It was something someone else could have dealt with, but the timing couldn't have been more perfect. It had been some time since he'd last left North Pole City. His duties had made it almost impossible since even before last Christmas. Unfortunately, what was supposed to be a relatively pleasant escape had been a more complex event than what he'd first anticipated. One of the Observer Stations in Central Canada had been compromised. Fortunately, nothing seemed to have gone missing. None of the data appeared to be touched, at least as far as anyone could tell. But none of the testimonies quite matched any of the others.

Some claimed the intruder was male, others were adamant of it being female. None of the facts added up, and it made Clarence's head ache just to think about the matter. The most worrisome point was that this intruder, whoever he or she was, hadn't been detected on any of their scans or cameras. Whoever this person was had blended into their environment in such a manner that it was uncanny. Some were even blaming the strange phenomenon on a ghost, or, worse, saying that it was one of their own gone rogue.

Somehow, he'd managed to smooth things over, promising to send more elves from The Security League. He made a mental note to talk to Dena about that upon arriving back at headquarters. He didn't relish the idea of having to admit he had no idea what was going on, or who had found their way into the underground facility. All he had going for him were the reports of unease, of people seeing someone who shouldn't have been there. But with no proof, he wasn't sure how much Dena's people could do about the whole fiasco. Maybe it was just some kind of witch-hunt, though other incidents of similar nature negated that fact. It was not the first such incident of the New Year.

Clarence could have been home right now, warming himself by the giant fireplace in the Main Rotunda. He'd planned on doing just that, but something had made him take the long walk across the plains instead of using the Subway. He didn't know why but it just felt right to walk. He also felt the need to think through all of the recent developments. If reports were true, it could mean a lot of trouble for them all. There was nothing stopping someone from finding his or her way to this secluded chunk of ice. Especially not if that person had enough determination. It would not have been the first time someone had tried, or succeeded. It didn't bode well to think about the one time someone had succeeded.

The elf hugged his long coat around his body. A sudden strong gust of wind tried to swipe his hood in a mad game of hide and sneak, breaking his train of thought. He batted at the wind, trying to make it go away, but his efforts only seemed to add to its frenzy. It came back with more force, pushing the clouds until they blocked out the moon and stars completely.

After a while, he gave up at scolding. Instead, he tried to push his way through the rough splintering of ice crystals thrown up against him. The strong breeze had other ideas and would not let him move in any direction. It howled, rising with the sound of thunder, and forced him to the ground. It brought with it a faint echo of a voice.

The sound seemed to call out to him, rising in intensity and dying with each gust. The hopeless appeal caught his attention, sounding like the call of someone lost and afraid. It took him back to a day he didn't want to remember. It was the day when his so called friends had left him to wander out in the cold, without food or shelter to help him.

It had been a prank, one gone horribly wrong, and he'd been the object of it all. It wasn't his fault he'd been smarter as a child, quicker to pick up on things. Of course, his peers hadn't seen it that way, preferring to believe that he was only showing off to make them look bad. And he'd thought they were his friends! How wrong he'd been, realizing they'd tricked him and left him out on the tundra with nothing but the clothes on his back. Never again, he'd vowed. Never again.

Thinking back on that incident, he no longer found the desire to try fighting. The call had struck a small part of his heart he hadn't realized was still there. It was filled with the innocence of youth. It was the voice of a child afraid of the dark that couldn't help but call out, hoping that someone would come to the rescue. He gingerly stood and followed the insistent tug of the wind towards his new goal. The desperation in that voice was too great to ignore, more than reminding him of that horrible day so many years ago.

The wind led him around piles of snow that were taller than he ever would be. The dunes hid the voice from his sensitive ears. The wind changed directions many times. He realized it was guiding him through a labyrinth of ice and snow that he never would have been able to navigate alone. Each step took him farther from the path home and brought him closer to some unknown fate. No longer even able to pretend he could hear the helpless appeal, he walked for what seemed like hours, trying to find its cause. He had to trust himself completely to the wind for guidance. He didn't like the sensation.

The gusts finally released him near the bank of a large dune of snow. He looked around and wondered why the wind had brought him there. But when he tried to move away, the wind scolded him like a little child. He thought he heard laughter in it, which served to unnerve him more than anything else had that night. "All right! What do you want now?" His harsh question hung in the air, leaving him feeling disconcerted for talking to the wind.

Clarence kicked at the edge of the drift out of pure frustration. He stopped when his boot hit something with a thud. Something that was softer than ice. He immediately began to brush the cold flakes away from whatever lay hidden beneath, and ended up sitting back in surprise at what he'd found. Right before him was a young woman, whose age he could only begin to guess at. She was wearing nothing but a torn up ensemble of rags, with no cloak or coat to warm her freezing body. Her lips were icy blue with exposure, her skin a shade or two lighter. It surprised him that she wasn't dead. But her breath came in small threads of mist, confirming what the weak pulse under his fingers had already told him. She was alive.

Standing in indecision for several heartbeats, he rocked back on his heels, thoughts racing. Should he take her in? What if she was something different from what she appeared to be? What if she was an intruder caught by nature's furry? He mentally traced her outline in the snow, wondering how she'd gotten there in the first place. If he left her, she would die. That much was certain, but could he risk bringing her with him?

Clarence shook his head, stamped cold feet, and tried to drive back the numbness that had crept in. No, he would not leave her. Whatever he was, he wasn't heartless, though he would need to be careful about how he proceeded with this. He would have to tell both Dena and Santa about his find, along with delivering the reports from the break-in to them. Maybe the two incidents were somehow connected. Maybe not. But he would find out, one way or another.

Wrapping her in the excess of his cloak, he shivered as her skin touched his, but not because of cold. It was more from surprise at how warm her skin was, considering the circumstances. She seemed to weigh next to nothing in his arms. He glanced at her pale face, which seemed almost familiar, like from a dream only half remembered. It felt like déjà vu in the most uncomfortable sense of the word. Or, maybe, it was the overwhelming sense that something was going according to some great plan. Somehow, like his decision to walk home, this felt right. Even if he didn't like it.

Starting back the way he'd come, he finally managed to shrug off the unsettling sensation of crossing swords with fate. He filed the observation away for later examination. Right now, there was a task he had to finish, and such thoughts would only distract him from the here and now.

Clarence slowly found his way back to the path through the labyrinth he'd come through. It surprised him that the wind now left him alone. The arctic breeze only blew just enough to help guide him through the maze of snow and ice. The stars shed their light through the ever-increasing holes in the clouds and he found he was glad that spring was well underway.