Shelf-Made Man

Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

“ T his is very good tea.” Alfred attempted a smile.

Tobias had propped him up using several pillows, and Alfred was able to hold the cup himself, although his hands trembled. At least he’d regained some color in his cheeks, and now that Tobias had tucked a blanket around him, his bruises and bandaged leg weren’t visible.

“It’s my favorite oolong.” Tobias had brewed a mug for himself too, hoping the familiar beverage would steady him. It had achieved only limited success, and his mind still felt like that trippy tunnel scene in the old Willy Wonka movie.

“I am sorry I called you a troll. I was terribly rude. It’s only… you’re very large and so are trolls, and I assumed…. Well, I apologize.”

Tobias had long since gotten over feeling offended; he had bigger fish to fry. Like the fact that there was an elf in his bed. He was finding it surprisingly easy to accept the situation, maybe because it was better to believe in elves than to fear the loss of his sanity. He smiled at Alfred. “So trolls are real. The under-the-bridges trolls. Not the obnoxious online trolls; I know they exist.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but yes, trolls are real. They’re dangerous, and many of them are in Snorkel’s employment.” Alfred shook his head slightly. “I should have known better. You’re much more handsome than a troll.”

Feeling his cheeks heat, Tobias tried to stay focused. “Who’s Snorkel?”

“It’s Snjokarl. S-n-j-o-k-a-r-l. And he’s….” Alfred shuddered so violently that Tobias thought he’d spill his tea.

“Hang on. You’re still pretty banged up and I think you’ve had a major shock. Hell, we both have. How about if I get you something to eat and then you take a nap? We can talk later.”

“You’re very kind. Thank you.”

The blush intensified. “Okay, what do you want?—”

“Wait. Please, am I safe here?”

“I’m not going to let anyone harm you.” Tobias was surprised by the intensity and truth of this statement.

Looking slightly relieved, Alfred set his free hand on Tobias’s knee. “But are you safe, my friend?”

A serious question called for a serious answer, no matter how distracting that hand was. “I’m clearly clueless about whatever’s going on with you and probably about a whole lot of other stuff too. But this is my home, so it’s as safe as any place can be, and I’ll do my best to keep it that way.”

Although Alfred still looked troubled, he nodded.

After a quick consultation regarding elven dietary preferences—it turned out that Alfred wasn’t picky—Tobias cooked a nice grilled cheese sandwich and heated some tomato soup. But when he carried them into the bedroom, Alfred was already fast asleep, and Tobias didn’t have the heart to wake him. He ate the food himself, figuring he could make more when his guest woke up.

Afterward, a bit at loose ends, Tobias scrubbed the blood off his living room floor and threw away the scraps of Alfred’s clothing. He examined the shoebox from Aunt Virginia, but although he’d kept the fabric and note, they didn’t provide any hints about what to do with Alfred. He now understood the note in a very different way than on his initial reading, however. Olve Lange hadn’t been worried about a damaged Christmas decoration; he’d been concerned about a living elf.

And now Tobias was too.

Eventually he sat in his bedroom armchair, playing on his phone. He must have dozed off, though, because he was startled awake by a crash and a yelp of pain. He found Alfred curled up on the floor, moaning over his leg.

“What are you doing? You’re hurt!” Tobias lifted him back onto the bed. It was the second time he’d had Alfred in his arms, only this time Alfred was conscious and naked, which made it quite a different experience. Probably for both of them.

Any naughty thoughts were sidetracked, however, when Tobias spied the blood seeping through the bandages. “Oh no,” he moaned. “You need to see a doctor and get that cared for properly.”

“I thought you were a healer.”

“I’m a data engineer.”

That got him a blank look. Then he dithered, because although Alfred certainly needed stitches at the very least—and possibly a lot more—Tobias wasn’t sure how the emergency room staff would react to treating an elf.

Alfred sighed. “I’ll be all right eventually. Have you a needle and thread?”

“You’re not planning to sew it up yourself!”

“I was rather hoping you would.”

Tobias did know how to sew, in fact. He’d taken classes a few years earlier because he couldn’t find shirts he liked in his size. He had actually become pretty good at it, and he had a sewing machine in the bedroom closet. But sewing clothes was a lot different than sewing… flesh. He shuddered.

“I’ll do it if you’re unable,” Alfred said quietly. “And don’t worry. My injuries aren’t mortal and I heal quickly.”

“Hang on.”

Tobias hurried to the kitchen, where he quickly fried up another sandwich and reheated the rest of the soup. While Alfred ate, Tobias dug into his sewing basket. He wasted a minute or two trying to decide on a thread color before remembering that the first aid kit had suturing supplies—no doubt a better choice than fuchsia-colored cotton. Next he watched a YouTube video on technique. It didn’t look too difficult, but then again, the person in the video was probably well trained.

“That was an excellent meal.” Alfred wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “And this bed is very large and comfortable. You’re being very kind to me.”

“Let’s see if you still think so after I stab you with this.” Tobias held up the sterile needle.

“I believe I could withstand many tortures if they came from your hands.”

Was that flirting ? Tobias was bad at recognizing that kind of thing when it came from regular people; he wasn’t at all equipped to identify an elf’s intentions. He shot Alfred a wan smile, sat on the mattress, and carefully unwrapped the bandages.

Alfred seemed oblivious to his own nudity. That was not true for Tobias, especially as he was tending to Alfred’s upper thigh, but at least it slightly distracted him from the blood. And from the full realization that it was a living body he was sewing and not fabric.

“I’m worried about infection,” he said after he completed the first stitch. “I’ve done what I can to avoid it, but?—”

“It’s not a concern for me.”

“Do you mean you’re not worried about it, or you don’t get infections?”

Alfred shrugged—and winced, likely due to the bruising. “I heal quickly and I don’t get ill easily.”

“How did this happen to you?”

“Snjokarl.”

“I still don’t know who that is.”

“Consider yourself fortunate.” Alfred closed his eyes for a minute. He was clearly being stoic about the sewing, which had to hurt. Hell, his entire body must be hurting. But evidently this Snjokarl guy was a bigger deal than the pain.

When Alfred opened his eyes again, he gave Tobias a weak smile. “I owe you an explanation, at least, in return for your hospitality. How much would you like to know?”

Curiosity had always been one of Tobias’s weaknesses. “Everything.” Before Alfred could speak, though, Tobias shook his head. “But you’ve had a hell of a day. Honestly, so have I. Maybe you should just take it easy and tell me tomorrow.”

“I may… I may stay here?”

“Of course. Unless there’s somewhere else you’d rather be.”

“I don’t….” Alfred chewed on his lip and looked so woeful that Tobias would have hugged him if he hadn’t been sewing up his leg. “I’ve never been here before. I don’t know anyone, or?—”

“You know me.”

Tobias surprised even himself with that statement. Not because he regretted it—he most certainly didn’t—but because he was so sure it was the right thing to say. Usually he stumbled over words when talking with other people, but not now. And when Alfred gave him the sweetest, softest smile, Tobias blushed and firmly returned his attention to the stitching. But his insides felt as warm and gooey as if he were a fresh cinnamon roll, and that wasn’t a bad thing at all.

“I am so sorry I was rude to you,” Alfred said after a moment.

“You weren’t. You were afraid, and who could blame you?”

“I was rude. I can be a bit… imperious, I’m afraid. My father is a king, you see, and— Was. He was a king. Now I suppose my brother is king instead.”

This was clearly a fraught topic, which Alfred definitely didn’t need right now, so Tobias tried to steer the conversation in another direction. “How should I address you? I’ve never met a prince before. Just a countess.”

To Tobias’s considerable relief, Alfred managed a small chuckle. “Under the circumstances, you may address me however you wish. But I think I’d most prefer Alfie. It’s what my friends call me.”

Yep, definitely a cinnamon roll. Tobias managed a nod before concentrating on the final two stitches.

By the time he finished and cleaned everything up, the wound looked a bit better but Alfie’s face was drawn with pain and exhaustion. Tobias brought him more soup, this time chicken noodle, and more tea. Once that was consumed, he helped him lie flat again and tucked him back in, noting that the bedding should be changed as soon as Alfie had recovered a little. Alfie fell asleep almost at once.

Tobias spent time puttering around: cleaning the kitchen, checking his email, rereading the note from Olve Lange. Then it occurred to him that Aunt Virginia might be able to shed some light on the situation. Although he had her number, he’d never spoken to her by phone. Apparently she’d long ago heard her voice on someone else’s answering machine and, appalled at how she sounded, thereafter refused to talk on the phone unless absolutely necessary. So he wasn’t surprised when she didn’t answer, and there was no way for him to leave a message.

Since Aunt Virginia was a dead end, Tobias turned to the internet. It was about as helpful as he expected, which was to say not at all. He found lots of stories and memes about elves of several varieties—especially those related to Christmas, Tolkien, and Nordic/Germanic folklore—but although it was interesting, he doubted that much of it pertained to his current guest. A side quest regarding trolls was similarly useless, and all the search for Snjokarl taught him was that snjókarl was Icelandic for snowman . Whoever Alfie was so scared of, Alfie doubted it was Olaf from Disney’s Frozen .

The internet was also useless on the subject of dolls being turned into living beings or vice versa, although he got a lot of hits for the Chucky and Barbie movie franchises.

After a long sit on the couch with his laptop, Tobias had just stood for a stretch when he heard a rustling from the bedroom. He hurried in and discovered Alfie sitting on the edge of the bed, face contorted in pain.

“Hey! You’re going to fall again.”

“But my bladder is going to burst and I don’t wish to soil your bed.”

“I don’t think you should walk on that leg.”

Tobias thought quickly, trotted into the kitchen, and returned with an empty mayo jar he hadn’t yet taken out to the recycling bin. He handed it to Alfie with a little flourish, then politely turned his back while Alfie used it. After he emptied it into the toilet and washed his hands, he returned to help Alfie back into bed.

“I feel so useless,” Alfie moaned.

“You’re hurt. Give yourself a break.”

“I’ll bet that if you were in my shoes, you would still be capable of caring for yourself. You’re strong as a snjómaeur .”

Although Tobias was pleased at what he took to be a compliment, he frowned. “Is that the same as Snjokarl?”

Alfie looked horrified. “Gods no! A snjómaeur is a very large being with thick white fur. They’re exceedingly powerful. But they’re also quite gentle unless provoked. They prefer solitude most of the time, but I’m acquainted with a few of them who don’t mind sharing some mead now and then.”

Oh. So yetis were real too. Tobias wondered what other mythical creatures weren’t so mythical after all.

“I’m a big baby about pain,” he said. “When I was twelve, I fell off my skateboard and broke my arm, and I guarantee I wasn’t the least bit stoic about it. I lolled on the couch for days as if I’d been mortally wounded.”

A smile teased at the corners of Alfie’s mouth. “But you were a child.”

“I wasn’t that young. My poor mom was busy enough already without having to wait on me.”

“Your father couldn’t help?”

Tobias shrugged. “Never had one. Hang on.” He went into the living room and returned with a framed photo from the bookshelf, which he handed to Alfie, who examined it closely.

His mother was in a pretty green dress and, since the photo had been taken at Tobias’s college graduation, he wore a cap and gown. The two of them looked like complete opposites. He was tall, bulky, and pale, while she was tiny and had dark brown skin.

Alfie, unlike most people, didn’t remark on their physical dissimilarity. “I can see in her eyes how much she loves you.”

“She did. She died not long after this photo was taken.”

Alfie looked stricken. “I am so sorry.”

“I still miss her. She adopted me when I was an infant and she was a single woman in her late forties. Some people thought that was a bad idea, but I couldn’t have hoped for a better mother. She was brilliant—a university professor—and strong and supportive and kind.”

“Ah,” said Alfie as he handed back the photo. “Then I am grateful to her for teaching you so well.”

The cinnamon roll feeling was back.

Tobias busied himself for a bit, checking Alfie’s wounds—which looked no worse, at least—and fussing with the blankets and pillows. He brought him tea and water and, when Alfie admitted that he could eat, a bowl of pasta with marinara sauce. He also brought in a comb for his thick blond hair and a damp washcloth and plastic basin of warm water so he could freshen up a little. By the time Alfie had peed again, the pain lines had returned to his face.

“Get a good night’s sleep,” Tobias instructed him. “That always helps.”

“Is this your bed?” Alfie looked troubled.

“Yes.”

“Then where will you sleep?”

Tobias had been considering that very question. His spare bedroom was set up as an office and had no bed. He’d once owned an inflatable mattress he’d bought for camping trips, but it had proved too flimsy for his body, and if he still owned it, he didn’t know where it was or whether it was still usable. The floor would kill his back. That left the couch, which was oversize but still not really big enough for him. He’d napped on it before, though, so he guessed he could manage even if he’d be scrunched up for a night.

“I’ll be just in the next room. Call if you need anything.”

“I can’t take your bed!”

Alfie moved as if he were going to sit up, so Tobias gently pushed him back down. “I don’t want to have to sew you up again. Do me a favor and stay here, okay?”

“It’s a large bed. There’s room enough for us both.”

That was technically true. But between Alfie’s injuries and his nudity, Tobias deemed it best to sleep somewhere else. His life was not a romance trope. “I snore. Now get some sleep. I want you in good enough shape to share your backstory tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, Alfie nodded. Tobias rearranged the pillows and turned out the lights. “I’ll leave the door open a crack if that’s okay. So I can hear you better if you need anything.” Or if he collapsed onto the floor again.

As Tobias was easing the door closed, Alfie’s quiet voice came out of the darkness. “Thank you, my friend. Your mother would be so proud of you.”