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    Elves and Deer
    Elves and Deer
    Elves and Deer
    Ebook172 pages2 hours

    Elves and Deer

    By Hollis Shiloh

    5/5

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    About this ebook

    Greer is a reindeer shifter working at a magical shipping hub up North.  He has little use for or understanding of elves—such delicate, short-lived creatures—but he tries to do his best by the ones in his life.  And it seems like more and more are coming into his life, confusing and frustrating him, needing help, needing rescued.  

    Since Greer is always busy, it's easy to overlook the things he doesn't want to acknowledge—until a terrible danger gives him unwanted time to think…and to realize there's just one elf who means more to him than he's ever wanted to admit.

    A Christmas tale
    38,000 words
    Heat level: very low

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSpare Words Press
    Release dateDec 7, 2016
    ISBN9781540199003
    Elves and Deer

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      Book preview

      Elves and Deer - Hollis Shiloh

      About the story:

      Greer is a reindeer shifter working at a magical shipping hub up North.  He has little use for or understanding of elves—such delicate, short-lived creatures—but he tries to do his best by the ones in his life.  And it seems like more and more are coming into his life, confusing and frustrating him, needing help, needing rescued. 

      Since Greer is always busy, it's easy to overlook the things he doesn't want to acknowledge—until a terrible danger gives him unwanted time to think...and to realize there's just one elf who means more to him than he's ever wanted to admit.

      A Christmas tale

      38,000 words

      Heat level: very low

      Elves and Deer

      by Hollis Shiloh

      My kind live a long time, and I had been serving the Boss for many years before I first met Jacob.  He was a child then, just a snippet of an elf, curling small and trying not to cry while the others kicked and taunted him.  I could see at a glance he was the favorite scapegoat.  Nobody, not elves, not reindeer shifters, seem to be immune to the taunts of school-aged peers.  It made me sad and a little angry to see it.  I always expect better here in the North, silly though it may be of me. 

      I waded into the little group of boys.  That's enough.  Don't you have schoolwork to do? 

      They snickered at me.  "Of course he'd stand up for the little fag." 

      I blinked, wondering where they'd picked up that word.  That wasn't the sort of thing the Boss put up with. 

      He wasn't bothered by my orientation, and I'd never bothered trying to hide it.  At this point in my life, I was confident and comfortable in my skin.  I was powerful in my reindeer form—both in the air and on the ground—and powerful in my human form, a big, solid man with dark skin and, I'd been told, startlingly beautiful blue eyes.  Of course one couldn't always trust such talk, but I certainly liked startlingly beautiful better than icy, cold, and the wrong sort of mysterious, which seemed to be the alternative. 

      Now I faced the elf children, looking at them each seriously and gravely in the face, letting them think about their behavior.  The obvious leader faced me with a half-defiant, half-smirking look, as if he thought perhaps it could all be played off as a joke or childish foolishness.  But he looked like he was afraid I could see through that façade. 

      "Whatever I am, and whatever this boy is or is not, there is no excuse for your behavior," I said, my voice deep and serious.  There's nothing quite like a mature, confident reindeer shifter for managing to sound grave and important, except of course the Boss, when he chooses to. 

      Some of the children looked like they wanted to run away or start crying.  The little one they'd been tormenting picked himself up and swiped at his eyes with one ragged sleeve, leaving a smear of tears, and blood from his split lip. 

      He had a hangdog look to him, and wouldn't look up at me.  They had tainted any hero worship he might've allowed himself.  Especially if he was starting to grow into an attraction to men rather than women. 

      Go off home now, all of you, I said.  And no more of this.  Santa would be ashamed.  They actually took the hint and fled, casting frightened and ashamed looks back.

      Honestly, one would think someone other than a passing deer could find a way to make these children not torture one of their own.  The boy stayed, still breathing with jagged sniffles, still not looking at me. 

      He was at that knobby-kneed, scab-picking age, and his expression was as flat and dumb as an animal's.  He kept trying to get his shoulders to quit shaking.  He had short curly hair, a muddy brown-black, and I didn't see what color his eyes were.  He seemed slightly underweight and an inch or two shorter than the other elves.  That could make a terrible difference at such an age, especially if he lacked the confidence to make up for it.

      My dearest friend growing up was a frightened boy until he grew larger.  I remembered how he never seemed to feel safe on his own, and wondered why this boy didn't have a friend to look after him, the way I'd looked after my friend.

      Is there someone at home waiting for you? I asked.

      He shook his head, staring hard at the half-frozen ground. 

      Are you due back at school, then?  I wanted to be free of him, to rid myself of this awkward situation.  It's all very well to say that a gay man should be able to be kind to children, but the fact is we both know that's not really true.  There are predators out there, and since it's hard to know what they look like, and too scary to think they can look just like anyone else, people take a guess and come up with someone like me—a strong gay man who rushes to rescue a little boy being bullied for his possible sexuality.  Not a safe place to be for either of us.

      I suppressed a sigh.  Well, why don't I walk you there—or back to school, if that's where you're due—so they won't come after you?

      He worried his bloody lip, making it start bleeding again.  He seemed to have stopped hiccupping at least.  I'll just wait a bit.  He glanced up at me, his face half tentative, half sullen.  Thanks, but it'll be worse now, you know.

      Well, why don't you tell me what I should've done, then—when you grow up and have to decide for yourself what to do if you see a little kid being kicked and taunted?

      His shoulders hunched up all over again and his face looked ready to cry.  I'm not so little.  He shoved his raw-knuckled hands into his tight pockets and kicked at a clod of dirt.  If—if there weren't so m-many of them, I'd never have—  He had to shut up then or start crying.  The miserable little guy's voice was breaking.

      Come on.  I'm walking you back, I said.  Do you live with parents, grandparents, what?  I steered a hand onto the top of his head, not quite gently, and turned him to town and away from the side of the road.  Walk, young man.  Lift your legs one at a time.  There, that's the way.  I gave a tiny ruffle to his hair (his head wobbled) and released him.

      Can do it myself, he grumbled.  It's not f-far.

      And you still haven't told me yet, I observed.  I've only asked—how many times?

      "Shut up, he grumbled.  N-nobody asked you to—to—"  He swiped at his nose and sniffed loudly, seemed like he didn't dare look at me.  His voice cracked again, and he shut up hastily.

      In a few years, you will be more than a match for any of them, even all of them, perhaps, I told him, trying to sound like I believed it.  And your voice won't do that anymore either.  Things will get much better.

      "Years are forever.  Don't talk about me anymore."

      I sighed and didn't offer any other dubious words of comfort.  I never knew what to say to young people—elves or deer. 

      We walked into town, and it felt like a walk of shame.  I just wanted to turn him over to the nearest authority figure and brush my hands off on my jeans, but clearly nobody was looking after the lad properly, and someone had to make them face that.  Teachers, parents, or both, somebody wasn't doing their job if he could be treated like that—more often than not by the way the children all acted about it.  This wasn't a one-time teasing that got out of hand.  It was premeditated, calculated cruelty.  Like twisting a stick-pin deeper and deeper in someone's thigh when they weren't allowed to make a sound, to see how long it took to make them cry out.  And then twisting it deeper still.

      It made me angry all over again.  I should really ask my best friend from childhood about how to handle it.  He lived far away now, but I could call him.  We do have some amenities at the North Pole.

      This was a few years ago, but we had cell phones even then, far before humans did.

      I live with my aunt and uncle.  There, okay?  Happy?  He ran the words together, so they were hard to distinguish. 

      Thank you.  Was that so difficult?

      He kicked extra hard at a dirt lump.  I gritted my teeth, reminded myself he was at a tender, difficult age and that my presence was at least as loathsome and unwanted to him as his was to me.  But this still needed done.  Duty is duty.

      We made it to his home without further ado.  A woman was shouting on the doorstep while two little kids ran away, giggling and grubby.  I caught the children by their collars and stopped them, and everyone fell silent, looking surprised.  The bullied boy—I still didn't know his name—quirked an amused eyebrow as he watched, almost gleeful.  For the first time he was no longer hiding from me.  He had a sharp sort of mark on his cheek, as if from a wound that had healed oddly.  It made his smile weirdly crooked.  He had eyes as blue as mine, but a slightly different shade—more seawater blue than iceberg blue. 

      Thank you, said the elf lady.  They're due for their baths.  I don't know what gets into you two.  She caught the little children from me and hauled them back indoors, scolding.  They grumbled, dragged their feet, and tried to look back at me over their shoulders, craning their necks to see a real deer. 

      This was the elf part of town, and the dirt poor part at that.  Not many full grown deer would come here, at least during the day.  I suppose there are always people who will go to a poorer area to take advantage of cheaper booze or sex for sale at night.  Made me shudder to think of it.

      I stopped on the doorstep.  Are you this boy's aunt?

      Oh, yes, is he in trouble? she asked carelessly.  Jacob, what did I tell you about getting into fights? she called, still wrestling with the two youngsters.

      The boy had moved up onto the porch next to me but not close enough that I could catch hold of him.  Not that I wanted to.  He kept his hands stuffed in his pockets and looked up at me from under his sullen, messy fringe of dark hair.  His eyes seemed to say, See what I mean?

      It wasn't a fight, ma'am, I said.

      Oh.  She sounded surprised, as if she didn't know what to do with a Jacob who wasn't fighting.  Well, just leave him here.  I'll bandage his knees or whatever later, I just have to take care of these two now.

      Jacob snorted, a rich sound of disgust and contempt.  Like anybody's had to bandage my knees for me in years!  Years.  He squinted at me defiantly in response to my skeptical look.  His knees were scraped, not quite raw but close, and there were healing scabs on them, too.  He probably picked at them, the little toad.

      His gaze went down to settle on his ratty shoes again, and I felt bad.  I

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