When they were as clean as he could get them, he hung them up by the fire to dry while he worked.
Humming softly, an old travel song he hadn't thought of in years, he set to work on the shoes.His hands, after the previous night, were remembering the work they had done for so long, before he had foolishly ventured off to parts unknown and lost everything.
The work went faster this time, so that even with the time wasted cleaning his clothes, he still finished with enough time to change into his clean clothes, tidy everything up, and slip away again.
Once more, he lingered long enough to see Alvin's joy.He sang as he wandered around the shop getting it ready, was singing still as he came outside to get more firewood, and his smiles were true as the first customers arrived.Brandt could ask for nothing better.
On the third night, everything was different.The door was unlocked, which at first Brandt thought a strange mistake, since usually Alvin was so meticulous about locking up.Only four pairs of shoes were laid out, though two of them were more complicated than previous pairs had been.But the fire was already lit, bright and cheerful and warm, and there wasfood.An entire heaping plate.Roasted vegetables, buttery potatoes, roasted chicken redolent in herbs and all of it covered in rich gravy.It had been set close to the fire on a little stool to keep warm.There were also a large mug of ale and a pot of tea.
Brandt's stomach growled loudly as the smells reached him, and tears stung his eyes.This must be meant for him, right?There was no one else.
He went through his usual routine of washing up, sparing a bit of time to wash his second set of clothes and hanging them to dry.Then he ate half the food and drank the ale before finally setting to work.He started with the harder shoes, intricate boots that were probably intended to be worn to solstice celebrations.Well-fed and warm, and with two days of practice behind him, though, the work came more easily than ever.It was one of the very few parts of home that he missed; he hadn't thought he'd ever get to do it again.
When he finished the difficult shoes, he paused to eat the rest of his food and enjoy a cup of tea.Then he ended the night with the two much easier pairs of shoes, tidied the workspace, cleaned all the dishes as best he could in the washroom sink, and gathered his clothes before finally heading out.
He lingered on the street long enough to watch Alvin arrive, see his joy.Better still, his hair was styled prettily today, twisted up and secured with a comb that kept catching the light, like it was bejeweled or something.His waistcoat was bright blue with a darker blue pattern that Brandt couldn't make out.
His shoemaker was getting better, and all it had taken was stitching a few pairs of shoes.
Still smiling, Brandt finally dragged himself to bed.His crate at the back of a dark, smelly alleyway seemed more depressing than ever after a hot meal by a crackling fire in a cozy workshop that smelled of comforting familiarity.But he was full and warm and his clothes were clean, and he'd made enough during the day that tomorrow he could go and get a bath, wash his blankets, maybe even cut his hair and shave.
Working in a shoe shop again made him even more painfully aware his own shoes were atrocious.He'd had fine shoes once, boots he'd made himself, green leather with white flowers, that should have lasted him years.Stolen with everything else after he'd realized the job posting he'd fallen for was a scam that would have made him little better than a slave.He'd fought back when they'd tried to keep him from leaving…
And now he was homeless, all his beautiful belongings long gone.
Still, he was alive, and for now, at least, he was finding joy in helping his shoemaker.
Days four and five brought eight pairs of shoes each, but also more plates of wonderful food.More chicken, roasted beef, vegetables and fruit, pasta and soup.He could not remember the last time he'd eaten so well, let alone days in a row.When he went back to scraps, to days without any food at all, he'd suffer greatly for having been reminded how good it felt to be full.
On the sixth day, he was greeted by a large bowl of beef stew and several slices of fresh bread with plenty of butter to put on it.He couldn't remember the last time he'd had something as frivolous as butter.The stew, the previous meals, were luxury enough.Meatwas luxury, certainly.The temple handed out free food a few days a week, but he always waited until all the children and older people had eaten, and often by the time they were done, there was no food left, though the priests always gave him whatever dregs they could muster.Usually it was gruel, sometimes with dried fruit or vegetables added, though not often.
He could have cried to eat so well night after night.How did Alvin know food would be so appreciated?Had he left some sign of his identity behind?Well, it little mattered in the end.
Brandt ate and drank, savoring where he could but not lingering, because there were seven pairs of shoes tonight, and it would require every available second to get them finished.
By the time he was done, the sun was once more teasing along the edge of the sky, and he had to hurry to get everything tidied away, pack up the extra slices of bread he'd set aside for later, and hasten back to his unhappy home.
As always, he lingered to see the happiness that was better payment than food and coin, no matter how much Brandt needed both those things.
Unfortunately, that was the only good part of his day.While he was washing his belongings, some mean kids stole them when his back was turned, and though he'd chased them down and gotten almost everything back, his poor shoes, that he'd cleaned so carefully and patched with scrap bits of leather and thread taken from the shop, wound up thrown in the river and lost.
No shoes in winter was a new level of misery, but there was nothing for it.He'd combed through the charity bins, but they'd been picked clean as people struggled to find any sort of solstice gift at all.So he'd trudged his way home in misery, pausing where he could to let his feet warm back up so he wouldn't get frostbite.
Back at his crate, he at least had wood enough to start a fire and warm his feet properly before tearing up one of his blankets to improvise wraps.They'd be useless for walking around, but they'd keep his feet warm here in his little hovel.
Maybe tomorrow he could scrounge around for suitable bits of wood, improvise sandals that he could cover with the blanket strips.Far from perfect, but significantly better than nothing.
When Alvin was well gone for the night, he hastened barefoot across the street and into the shop.He might have cried just a bit to see the food waiting for him.Tonight's meal was slices of ham, roasted potatoes, and dried apples that had been cooked with cinnamon, sugar, and roasted nuts.Even better, there was also an enormous piece of fluffy white cake with colorful frosting and candied nuts.Solstice Cake.He hadn't had a piece in years, always denied it as a form of punishment.
Disobedient.Stubborn.Embarrassment to the family.Nothing at all what a good elf should be.Rare was the day when he hadn't been punished for something that always came back to flouting tradition or not being as perfect and wonderful as his siblings and cousins.He hated the situation he was in, but it was still better than going home.Not that he could.His father had made it painfully clear that if he left, he would never be allowed back, would in fact be thrown right back out.
Funny how he was derided for ignoring tradition, when the oldest admonitions of the elves were kindness, understanding, and forgiveness.Thankfully, their flagrant hypocrisy was no longer his problem.
Banishing all thoughts of his rotten family, he ate the food and drank the ale, then set to work on six pairs of shoes, each more beautiful than the last.These were the shoes of nobles, made of dragon leather and unicorn hide, embroidered and embossed in ways wholly impractical for the shoes of working people.One pair even had glass beads on the heel and toe.Stitching all the pieces together required utmost care and concentration.
By the time he had finished, his eyes and hands ached fiercely, but the shoes were perfect.As usual, he had no time to give them a final cleaning and polish, but Alvin seemed to handle that just fine.He tidied everything up, including the floor where his dirty feet had left marks before he'd been able to clean them, gently secured his beautiful cake slice in a kerchief, taking care not to touch the frosting, and finally, reluctantly, left.
Though he ached to stand and watch like usual, there was no way he could do so with his bare feet.So he retreated to his hovel, wrapped his feet up once more, and slowly ate his beautiful, sweet and fluffy cake while his feet got toasty warm.
