[On the streets of Montfort]

The rich couple had just left the clothier when the young boy ran up to
them. He couldn't possibly have been more than seven years old, and his
face was smeared with the dirt and dust of life on the Montfort streets.
His clothes were mere rags, but they were very good rags and they looked
like they had been clean not too long ago. His curly blond hair was filthy,
but it was combed and almost orderly.

"Excuse me, kind sir and madam, could you spare a few coppers-"

"BELTHIER!" bellowed a large man as he ran around the corner. His
appearance was not much better than the boy's He looked at the rich
couple, and then at the boy. "Sorry sir, madam... Belthier what did I
tell you about bothering strangers?"

"But Mr. Horace, I was just trying to-"

"Hush now, boy, these nice people don't want you dirtying up their
shopping."

"It's really no bother," said the rich woman. "He's such a fine lad. Is
he your son?"

"Oh, no. He's an orphan. My wife and I run a local orphanage."

"Really?" the rich gentleman raised an eyebrow.

"Well... we do our best." Horace stiffened and tried to look distinguished,
which was quite impossible given his ragedy appearance. He gave up,
sighed, and slumped his shoulders in defeat. "After the big fire there
were just so many children that we couldn't care for them all. But we
couldn't turn them away, either. They kept coming... so many children, and
only so much food and space in the house. But I'm not complainin'... We
get by whatever way we can. But NOT by begging, Belthier! If your
parents were still alive they'd be spinning in their graves!"

"Take this small offering, sir," said the gentleman as he reached for his
money pouch. "It isn't much, but it's the least we can do to help out those
in need."

"Oh, we're not in need, sir," protested Horace. "We have a roof over our
heads... well, those that sleep inside do. The children eat every day.
My wife and I join them once or twice a week. We are rich compared to
those on the streets... I could never-"

"Nonsense," said the woman. "Darling, give them some money."

"Ma'am, I wouldn't dream of accepting your gift..."

The man held out a few gold coins. Horace just looked at them, not
knowing what to say.

"Sir... your charity... I- I could never..."

"For the boy then. He's the one who asked." The man handed the coins to
young Belthier, who took the slowly and stared at them as if he'd never seen
money before. "Go buy the lad some clothes."

"Belthier? What do you say to the nice man?"

Beltheir smiled and hugged the rich gentleman, then gave the lady and
equally gracious squeeze.

"Thank you, sir" he said.

"I hope things get better for you all."

"Enjoy yer shoppin' ma'am. Sir."

"Bye!" young Beltheir waved at the couple as they walked away.

"Come along, lad," said Horace. He started down the street and Belthier
walked a pace in front of him. As they passed an openinging between two
buildings, Horace grabbed the boy and yanked him into the dark
alley.

"What'dja get, boy!"

Belthier reached into a secret pocket sewn into his pants and removed the
contents... several small fistfuls of coins. It was the contents of the
rich gentleman's coin purse. The boy handed the coins to Horace.

"Is that all?" Horace sneered.

"That's all, I swear!"

"You'd BETTER not be holdin' out on me, boy!" Horace grabbed the boy by the
shoulders and puncutated each syllalble with a violent shake. "Don't make
me strip you right here in the alley!"

"That's All! That's All! That's All!" screamed Belthier.

"Good," said Horace. He stood and pulled a perfectly clean white rag from
his pocket. He used it to wipe the grunge from his face. Then he looked
up at the sky. "Almost lunchtime."

"Will I eat today, sir?"

"Hell no!" Horace spat. "You still have to make up for yesterday when
you didn't bring me anything."

"But Ma'am made me clean the floors yesterday! That's why I didn't-"

"SHUT UP! Lazy brat! No money, no food... it's the same every day and it
ain't gonna be changin' any time soon. All the rest o' the lads will be
sharin' your gruel until you make it up."

"But when will THAT be? I'm HUNGRY!"

"Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after."

"But I'll STARVE!"

"Nonsense. Takes weeks for a man to starve... and you ate two days ago."

"But I'm just a boy..."

"Welcome to adulthood, boy. Come on... you get to watch me an the missus
eat."

Horace shoved the boy out into the street and followed him back home.

-------------------------

[The Fenigton Residence]

"Sit STILL, girl!" hissed Anya. She glared at her daughter's squirming
reflection in the mirror, then smiled as she shifted her attention back to
her own face.

"But Momm!" little Sari whined. The servants were so rough when they
brushed and combed her long, golden hair that Sari wondered if they were
trying to hurt her on purpose. "OUCH!"

"Hush, girl, and let the servant finish." Anya smiled at herself once
more.

She and Sari sat at opposite ends of a richly over-decorated dressing room.
In addition to the dressers and closets, the room was dominated by two huge
gold-trimmed dressing mirrors... one for Anya, and one for her daughter. It
was a room so feminine that Mr. Fenigton refused to set foot in it... the
whole place reeked of perfume and powder. "Stop squirming, Sari. You have
to have your hair brushed with a hundred strokes every morning before you go
out. You want to go shopping with me, don't you?"

"Nooo." said Sari. "I want to go out and play."

"Nonesense, you'll only get yourself dirty. Besides, we have to buy you a
new dress for the Christmas festival. You want to look nice for the
festival, don't you?"

"Noooo. I don't even want to go. OUCH!"

"Oh, I don't really blame you. There'll be so many dirty, smelly working
people there, but we DO have to go and make an appearance. And show off
our dresses."

"I don't WANT another new dress!"

"Nonsense. You're just being rebellious and I won't have it."

"I'll wear an old one. I want to go play outside, not go shopping in stuffy
shops that smell funny."

"Wear an old dress!?! PROPER ladies do NOT wear the same dress TWICE!
You'll have people thinking were PAUPERS who can't AFFORD the latest
fashions! I won't have it!"

"But mother-"

"I'll not have you out looking like a servant-girl." Said Anya, oblivious
to the two servant girls in the room.

Sari sighed in defeat. She knew that tone of voice and knew that there was
no getting around another day of shopping. Suddenly-

"OUCH! MOM! She did that on purpose!"

"Shhh... let the girl finish. She's almost done... aren't you, girl?"

"Yes, Madam Fenigton," said the girl humbly. "On the last twenty-five
strokes, in fact."

"Well hurry it up, then. We don't have all day."

Sari suffered silently while the girl finished with her hair and started
straightening her clothes. They were already dressed in matching silk
'shopping dresses' worth more than each of the servants made in three years.

The servants applied perfume to Sari and Anya, then bowed deeply and stood
silently in the corner. There was nothing left to do, but Madam Fenigton
hadn't dismissed them yet.

"Come here, Sari." Anya held out her dainty, gloved hand. Sari sighed
and walked over to her mother. She held her hand and stood next to her in
front of her mother's mirror.

"The four most beautiful women in Montfort," said Anya.

"Four?"

"But of course! You, me... and our reflections! HA HA HA!" Anya's laugh
was cheap and shallow, and it hurt Sari's ears to hear it. But then, they
DID look rather pretty...

"Come along, now... the stores await the arrival of the Beautiful Fenigton
Women!"

Anya pulled Sari out of the room without even bothering to dismiss the
servants.


---

[The Orphanage]

"Looky here," Horace placed a pouch with the morning's haul on the kitchen
table. His wife Reetha, a huge swollen cow of a woman, snatched up the
pouch, felt its weight, and quickly stuffed it into her bodice where it
joined several other money pouches, a few pieces of jewelery, and a fresh
stick of chewing tobacco.

"That new boy's doin' good," she said after taking a few labored breaths.
The effort of walking over to the kitchen table had taken a good bit out of
her.

"Aye," said Horace. "He's the best pick-pocket we got. That's why he goes
out with me every day... he's too good to run around by himself like the
others. Might start gettin ideas about runnin off for himself."

"Where is he now?"

"He says he's too hungry to watch us eat, so I sent him to the basement.
What are we havin anyways?"

"Steak and potatoes. The boys are having gruel and corn-slop from the pig
farm next door."

"Mmmmm." Horace smiled so hard his eyes squinted shut. "I LOVE steak.
Boy, this is the good life.. This orphanage scam is the best yet... we've
had it better than ever."

"That's what happens when ya listen ta me."

"You!?! This was MY idea!"

"Bullsh-"

The front door suddenly flew open. Horace leapt from his chair, pulled a
sharp dagger and prepared to hurl it into the skull of whoever had dared
darken his doorstep.

"WAIT! WAIT! IT'S US, MR HORACE!" cried one of eight small boys who were
cowering in the doorway.

"DAMMIT! I done TOLD you about burstin' in here! BRING the damned gold
over here and leave it on the table! And you'd all BETTER have somethin or
I'm gonna start handing out black eyes and sore backsides to ALL of ya!"

The team of thieves... none older than nine... scrambled into the kitchen
and deposited the day's take. Rings, necklaces, hatpins, lapel buttons,
cuff links, coinpurses, loose change, even silk handkerchiefs created an
ever-growing pile of splendor before Horace and Reetha's greedy eyes.

When they were done, the boys huddled around the kitchen table and waited.

"Okay, who's it gonna be today?" said Horace. All of the boys shivvered
and backed away. Horace picked a boy at random. "You! Pauly!"
Pauly's face fell, and all the others sighed in relief. "The rest of ya
get downstairs NOW!"

The boys vanished... all running to the heavy door that lead from the
kitchen into the damp, dark basement where they stayed. There were several
iron locks on the door.

"All right, you know the drill," said Horace to the one remaining boy. "I
gotta search one of ya every day... make sure nobody's holdin' out.
You're it. Start emptyin' pockets and pullin off clothes. And when yer
done I'll seach up yer innards."

Pauly disrobed while Reetha started sorting through the morning's haul.

---

[The Coiture Emporium]

"Isn't this LOVELY!" Anya turned around on top of the little pedestal,
modeling the dress for her daughter. Sari stood impatiently atop a similar
pedestal, wearing a child's version of the exact same dress. They were
silk and puffy and difficult to move around in... but quite stunning nontheless.

But then, the twenty-five dresses they'd tried on before were equally
stunning, though they varied greatly in silken puffiness. The clotheirs who
attended them looked worn and haggard. The Fenigton women had literally
worn them down, and there seemed to be no end in sight. "What do you
think, Sari?"

"Mooooommm, I wanna go hoooooome..." Sari said in her most annoying whine.

The clotheir's helper rolled her eyes in silent agreement.

"I like this one much better than the last one," Anya studied herself in
the clotheir's mirror... although she spent most of the time looking at her
own face and hair rather than the dress she was wearing. "Absolutely
gorgeous. We'll take them!"

"You- You WILL!?!?" gasped the clotheir.

"Thank the HOLY GODS ABOVE!" exclaimed the clotheir's assistant, who
seemed on the verge of fainting from shock and relief.

The clotheir informed Anya of the ridiculously exorbiant prices of the
dresses. Anya produced a scroll of payment bearing the Fenigton Seal,
which the clothier happily accepted.

"Shall I have these dresses placed in bags so that you may carry them more
easily?" asked the assistant.

"What!?!" howled Anya. "Bags!?! CARRY!?! DEAR woman... We are woman of
aristocracy! We will not soil our hands with menial tasks such as lifting
and... ahem... CARRYING! Our SERVANTS shall pick up the dresses this
evening... have them cleaned and ready or you shall HEAR from me! Come,
Sari!"

Anya pulled Sari out of the store. Sari looked back, and saw both the
clothier and her assistant scowling at them.

"Why are they mad, mother?" she asked.

"They're angry because they are jealous. Unlike us, they are neither rich
nor beautiful."

"Oh," said Sari. She was silent as they walked back towards home. Lots
of people stared at them, and Sari assumed it was because she and her mother
looked so pretty. Some people looked angry, though... espescially when Anya
walked past them without speaking. They were probably jealous as well.

"Can I go and play now?" asked Sari when they reached the gates of Fenigton
Manor.

"Play what? With who?"

Sari lowered her head.

"SPEAK up, girl! How am I going to give you permission to do something if
you won't tell me what it is?"

"I like to play hopscotch and hide and seek with Fenna and Jez-"

"The SERVANT'S children!?! Dear GODS, girl!" Anya commenced to scolding
her right in front of the guard. "I did NOT bear the most beautiful little
girl in the kingdom so that she can dirty herself with SERVANTS! They are
FILTHY and they STINK and you will NOT play with them!"

"But... but they're my friends! And they don't stink!"

"They are UGLY little gnomes and they do not BATHE! If their mother wasn't
such a good cook I'd be rid of them altogether. And if I catch you
getting all dirty playing with them, I'll get rid of them ANYWAY!"

"But... but..."

"Do you know what happens to cute little girls that dirty themselves with
beggars and working people? They turn ugly! They get boils and wrinkles
on their little faces, and grow up to be hideious ugly WITCHES! Is that
what you want, Sari?"

Sari hid her face in her hands and cried. All she wanted to do was play
with her friends. Play hide and seek. Or Hopscotch. She didn't want to
turn ugly with wrinkles and things on her face.

"Ahem!" The guard beside the gate cleared his throat. The man was short
and thin, and his uniform didn't fit quite right. Anya didn't recognize
him. She assumed that he was new. She looked at his slouching stance,
shifty eyes, and ill-fitting clothes, and made a mental note to have her
husband fire him in the morning.

"WHAT, You smelly litte man?"

"Nothing, Ma'am," said the guard. His voice was high and squeaky. Anya
didn't like it, even though it sounded a lot like her own annyoing shrill.

"Just clearing my throat, ma'am."

"Well CLEAR it away from the ladies of the house. This isn't the STABLE
your used to sleeping in! COME, Sari!"

Once again, Anya grabbed Sari by the arm and tugged her along the walkway
toward the front door.

As soon as they were out of earshot, the guard pulled off his hat to reveal
short, ruffled dark hair and tiny, pointed ears. He removed his shirt,
tossed it and the hat away, and calmly left the gate. He had to step over
the pair of human legs that were poking out of the decorative bushes just to
the right of where he had been standing.


---

"Fenna?" whispered Sari. "Fennaaa?"

Sari crept out of the snow-covered bushes and tip-toed over toward the
garden's giant fountain. The fountain was huge, depecting a giant fish
jumping out of the water and pouring water from its mouth. The fountain
was heated magically, so that the water never froze no matter how cold
it got. Sari was absolutley certain Fenna was hiding behind it.

"GOTCHA!" she cried as jumped behind the fountain. There was no one
there. "Hmmmm... where could she be hiding?"

Sari looked around. She didn't feel guilty about playing with her
friends... probably because she hadn't been caught. Her mother was
taking her late-afternoon nap and her father was out doing whatever father
did. Sari had another hour before it would be time for dinner, and she was
going to use it to enjoy herself whether her mother approved or not.

"Fenna, where are you?" Sari said with a smile. There was a rustle in
the bushes not far away. Sari headed that direction. She pushed through
the shrubbery, which deposited a fair amout of dirt on her white silk dress.
On the other side was... not Fenna.

The man was an elf, of that she was almost certain. He was barely taller
than she was, and had sharply pointed ears on either side of a boyish,
innocent face. The man wore green from head to toe... green tunic and
tight green pants, funny green shoes that curled up at the toes. He even
wore a floppy green hat. The hat and shoes had tiny bells on them, but
for some reason they didn't make a sound as the man turned towards her.

Sari opened her mouth to scream.

"Shhhhhh..." The elf put a tiny finger to his equally tiny mouth. "Hi
little girl. I'm not here to hurt you." His voice was high and squeaky,
but not in bad way like her mothers. It reminded Sari of someone else,
but she couldn't remember who.

Sari relaxed. For some reason, she knew this little man wasn't going to
hurt her. He studied her for a few moments. His eyes seemed to twinkle.

"You're not naughty," he informed her. He seemed somewhat disappointed...
as if he was looking for somone who turned out NOT to be Sari. "But
someone is, and that's bad for everybody. Hmmm... What does your daddy do,
little girl?"

"He buys and sells things," said Sari. "From far away." She had no idea
why she answered his question... he wasn't supposed to be here. He was an
intruder, and her father said that intruders were bad. But she just had a
nice, safe feeling and wanted to help the little man as much as she could.

"And mommy?"

Sari shrugged.

"Hmmm..." The elf glanced at the surrounding bushes, then looked back at
Sari. "Have you seen any other elves around? Like me... only dressed
differently? Maybe not as nice?"

Sari shook her head.

"What about a big man in a red and white suit? Santa? Have you seen
Santa?"

"Daddy says there's no such thing as Santa."

"Hmmmm... so if you saw a man dressed like Santa in your house...?"

"Daddy would call the guards and have him taken to the Tower!"

"Goooood," said the elf. "Very good. Well then, you take care little
girl."

The elf ducked into the bushes and was gone. Sari stood and watched the
place where he disappeared for several seconds before she even relized he
was gone. Her mother's shouting snapped her out of her reverie.

"SARIIIII!! SARI WHERE ARE YOU?"

"In the garden, mother!" Sari replied.

"Sari, the handmaid has left to fetch the dresses! We need to be bathed and
ready to try them on when she gets back!"

"Coming mother!" Sari looked around for signs of Fenna and Jez.
Thankfully they had heard Anya's yelling and vacated the area... if they
were ever there in the first place. There was no sign whatsoever of the
strange elf. "I'll be right there!"

"AND you'd BETTER NOT have gotten your clothes dirty!"

Sari looked down at her white silk dress, which was covered with dirty
smudges and grass stains. The hem was torn and one of the shoulder ruffles
was ripped almost completely off. Sari shrugged and ran for the mansion.

---


[The Orphanage]

"Will we get Christmas presants, Mr. Horace?"

"Eh?" Horace was halfway up the stairs, carrying the empty plates of food
back to the kitchen. He turned around and looked at the children as they
huddled in the basement. He didn't know which one had spoken, but he most
certainly couldn't have heard what he THOUGHT he heard... "What's that you
said?"

"Christmas," said Pauly. It figured... Pauly was the dimwitted one.
"What about Christmas?"

"What ABOUT it?" Horace walked back down the stairs, figuring that he'd
better nip this 'Christmas' foolishness right now, before it got any
further. The boys were all laying in their beds, which were just piles of
rags shoved over against the wall. A single oil lamp in the center of the
room provided the only light. It would burn out in about an hour, leaving
the boys at the mercy of the rats until morning. All of the youth's
pale, sullen faces were turned toward Horace. "Eh? What ABOUT
Christmas?"

"Well..." Pauly looked around at the other boys. No one was supporting
him, but a few had hope in their eyes. "Will... well we get p-presan-"

"HELL no, you greedy bastards!" spat Horace. "Only GOOD little boys get
presants."

"But WE'RE good!" offered another youth.

"Yer a buncha bloody THIEVES, that's what ya are. And some of ya aren't
even good at THAT!"

"But, but YOU told us to do it!" said Beltheir.

"Yeah!" said Jocob, another slow-witted boy. "You won't feed us if we
don't!"

"Damn right. No money, no food. And the lot of ya are too young to do
anything but steal, so that's whatcha gotta do. That don't make ya good."

"That's not fair," said Pauly. Tears were beginning so form in the corners
of his eyes. They glistened in the oil-light. "That's... that's not
fair!" Pauly buried his face in the bag of oily rags that served as his
pillow and started crying.

"See! You made 'im cry!" said Jocob.

"He made HIMSELF cry... or was it one of YOU that filled his head with all
this CHRISTMAS nonsense? Eh? I tell you boy's every day... ya gotta
WORK for everything you get in this world. And here you are expectin' FREE
PRESANTS! For WHAT! For bein' KIDS! BAH! I tell ya what... when yer
all growed up and workin for yerselves you can by yourself all the presants
you want. But until then, FORGET IT!"

"But all I want is candy!" said Beltheir. "It doesn't cost that much!"

"Yeah!" added another boy. "Sugar-bombs!"

"And pixie-dust!"

"And candied apples!"

"And chocolate!"

"Did I hear one of you boys say you wanted me to bring the shackles down
here and tie you all up til after Christmas? With no food? Is that what I
just heard?"

The boys quickly shut up and cowared against the walls.

"N-no, sir." Beltheir peeped.

"S'funny... I coulda SWORN I heard that. Must be my ears."

Horace walked to the center of the room and grabbed the lamp by its handle.
He carried it with him up the stairs, leaving a perfectly black basement
behind him. None of the boys said a word as he slammed the door and
secured the two iron locks.

"Christmas presants," he mumbled. "Greedy bastards... always wantin'
something. Next thing ya know they'll be wantin birthay presants or
somethin..."