Chapter 9

Again, time was altered in that special way that elf magic can do so. It only took them an hour or so in real world time to get to the North Pole, but to Bob, it seemed as if more time than that has passed. That might have been because there were so many questions - on the part of both human and elves - as he started his new tour of duty as Santa Claus.

Tawny asked him a lot of questions about Melanie. Some of them were quite intimate, such as how many times, and how often they engaged in the kind of thing the elves had interrupted.

"That's really none of your business, Tawny," he ended up saying.

"Of course it is," said the elf. I'm the statistician. I keep records of all sorts of things."

"You're going to keep records of how often I have sex?" He laughed.

"Among other things ... perhaps," she said, sounding defensive. "Which brings us to other women ... before Melanie. How many of them were there? Who were they? Do any of them know where you are now?"

Bob grinned at her.

"You're a nosy Nellie. That's what you are."

"I am most certainly not!" she huffed.

Reflecting on her behavior, he chalked her curiosity about human sexual behavior up to be the result of the fact she was still too young to date. Then he remembered that Gwyneth had alluded to what amounted to "playing doctor" in human terms.

Which reminded him of Gwyneth for the first time since he'd taken the leap and boarded the sleigh.

"How's Gwyneth?" he asked.

"Gelwenil Dappensol is in good health," she said, a little stiffly. "I believe her spirits will improve when she sees you again."

"Did she miss me?"

"Did you miss her?"

"Of course I did," he replied.

"I see," she said. "Forgive me. I'm young. It's hard to tell that you missed her since you didn't mention her in your letter to Santa and we found you having sex with Melanie."

"I never thought I'd see Gelwenil again," said Bob. "I had to move on with my life."

"Will you move on with your life now that you have left Melanie behind? Like you left Gelwenil behind?"

"I didn't leave Gelwenil behind. In fact, I was going to find her when I opened a door at the North Pole and stepped through it only to find myself back in my barracks."

"Oh," said Tawny, looking uncomfortable. "I didn't know that. We thought you left on purpose. You didn't do something to make yourself go to your barracks?"

"I didn't do anything except walk through a doorway," said Bob.

"Oh," said the elf again. "I suppose I owe you an apology, then. You really missed Gelwenil?"

"She was all I could think about for months," he said. "It almost drove me crazy."

"You mean they almost had to put you in the loony bin?" she asked brightly.

"Something like that," he said, smiling.

"I'm so glad you're coming home," she said, staring up at him.

He thought for a moment. It was all still too new to have been processed completely. He knew that. He also knew there would be bumps in the road. But he desperately hoped this was no coma ... and that he would not wake from it.

"Me too," he said, softly, reaching to pat her on the knee. "Me too."

There were other questions after that, and Bob was given the quick guide to all things North Pole and being Santa. There was actually a manual for it, and they'd brought it with them, anticipating he might want to peruse it on the way back. He was, in fact, turning pages, asking the occasional question, when he felt the sleigh come to a halt. He looked up to see a sea of elven faces, staring at him. Elves covered the ground, and filled every window of every building he could see. Some had even climbed lamp poles to get a better view of him.

But none had uttered a sound. The silence was deafening.

Bob stood up. He felt conspicuous, not because everyone was staring at him, but because he was wearing a gray Army T shirt issued for physical training, and a mismatched pair of sweat pants. He realized he hadn't combed his hair before leaving, and lifted a hand to smooth the inch long fibers into place.

An old elf approached the sleigh. His hair was white, and his beard long. He was taller than most of those around him. The inference was plain.

"Santa," said Bob, softly.

"Not any more, my boy," said the old man grinning. "I'm retired. I go by Faerveren now. That means Christmas in English, but you can call me Joe."

"You were Santa," said Bob.

"That is quite true," said the man who called himself Joe, but who couldn't possibly be conceived of as merely "Joe." "But that was then, and this is now, and now I will be your mentor for a little while, until you get your feet firmly on the ice. Welcome to the North Pole, Santa."

Then the silence vanished, and it was sound that deafened the new arrival.

It was a whirlwind of well-wishers, and protocol and being presented enough wine and goodies to serve a whole platoon. Then it was curiously like arriving at a new Army assignment, being issued uniforms. These uniforms were of red velvet, though, with white fur trimming. The boots and belt already shone as if they'd been spit shined and somehow Bob could tell he'd never have to pick up a cotton ball and a can of polish again.

It seemed like an entire day had passed before he finally found himself alone again with Gobelon, in the same office they'd last conversed in.

Bob sank into his big, black executive chair, behind a desk with a top that looked an acre in size.

"I'm glad you changed your mind," said Gobelon.

"I'm not sure I had a choice," said Bob.

"Kind of hard to leave us behind, huh?" suggested the HMFIC, smiling.

"Yes," said Bob. "I have a question."

"Shoot."

"Why didn't you look for another Santa?"

"Various reasons," said Gobelon. "The clause has its own powers. We can't force a change. It changes things when it thinks it's time to change things. We don't really understand it that well. It doesn't get invoked very often."

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The Bob Claus

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