The man passed the parchment to Elias, who sat closer, eyes widening in surprise before showing it to Henrik. He’d drawn arough sketch of a house, then pointed to the two of them before miming going to sleep.
Henrik was fairly certain the man intended to offer them somewhere to sleep rather than inviting them into his bed, but he wasn’t certain enough to agree.
“Are you able to hear us?” Henrik asked, a little louder than was probably polite, if the man could, in fact, hear him.
The man nodded his head. Then, surprising them both, he croaked out, “Johan.” And pointed at his chest.
“Speaking is difficult?” Henrik asked, that time at a far less hostile volume.
The man nodded again, and Elias looked confused.
“Are you offering us somewhere to sleep tonight?” Henrik asked, earning another head nod. “In your bed?” he added tentatively.
This time, Johan shook his head vigorously enough to reassure Henrik that his intention wasn’t to offer them a place to sleep in exchange for sex.
Before Henrik could even reply, Elias said, “Yes, please. We’re so cold, and we won’t be any trouble.”
In response, Johan reached out a hand to each of them, helping them to stand, and they picked up their cotton sheet along with the few coins they’d collected. Realising suddenly that Johan had already given them money, Henrik tried to return it, thrusting the silver coin in his direction. Johan just closed Henrik’s hand with his own, trapping the coin inside and shaking his head, refusing to take it back. Henrik struggled to believe anyone was really that generous without expecting something in return, and a seed of suspicion began to grow in the pit of his stomach.
“Are you sure?” he whispered to Elias.
“I don’t know how much longer I can last in the cold, Rik.” Elias’ words were a heavy weight on Henrik’s chest as he reallylooked at his friend. He was so thin; his face had grown more and more gaunt as each day passed, and he couldn’t ignore the truth of it.
They could either take a chance on the kindness of a stranger or risk dying of exposure as they neared winter with no regular sustenance or shelter.
Henrik made the only choice he could live with.
Three
Johan
J
ohan wasn’t entirely sure what had come over him. When he’d spotted the homeless elves looking starved and scared outside the market entrance, the urge to help them had overwhelmed him. He’d never seen elves up close before. The carriages that held them occasionally passed through town, and he knew there were a few who’d had the wealth to remain with the upper classes, but most were enslaved in the large factories behind closed doors.
They were smaller than he’d realised, and their pointed ears poked through their long, silky-white hair. Despite their current state of malnourishment, they were striking to look at. Alert amber eyes contained shadows that told of a life endured rather than lived, but they were not the eyes of people who had given up.
It wasn’t safe for them there; they were too vulnerable. All it would take would be for one desperate man to spot their weakness and capture them into the slave trade that had become rife in this kingdom. Leaving them there to fend for themselves felt as awful to Johan as offering them a death sentence himself.
My parents would have offered them a safe place to rest.
When Johan stepped into his shop, the floorboards creaked under his weight, but the elves trailed in silently behind him. Their gaze darted around the room, wide eyes taking in every detail, and as Johan tried to see the place through their eyes, he was suddenly not entirely sure what he could actually offer them. He was no knight in shining armour, nothing but a poor shoemaker.
Glancing at the two elves once more as they shivered, Johan could admit that while he didn’t have much, he could still help, and that was more than anyone else was offering.
After holding up a finger to indicate that he’d be back in a moment, he jogged up the stairs to his home to retrieve the spare mattress and his warmest wool blanket.
Upon his return, he found the elves exactly where he’d left them, huddled together near the door. Johan beckoned for them to follow and guided them towards his workshop in the back. It wasn’t warm, but it was warmer than being outside, and the wool blanket would help considerably.
He placed the mattress in the corner, topped it with the blanket, and managed to whisper “For you” to the elves.
Johan was quite proud of himself for having accomplished getting any words out at all to them. It had been a long while since he’d been able to speak in front of strangers, and this was an unusually tense situation, after all.
“Thank you, this is very kind,” the smaller and thinner of the two elves said to him. “Elias.” He pointed at himself. “Henrik,” the other elf said, his expression remaining understandably suspicious.
Johan offered them what he hoped was a friendly smile and stepped towards the door at the back; he opened it and gestured to the outhouse. Thankfully, they both peered outside to look, and Elias said, “The toilet?”
Johan nodded.
