AN: Okay, this story came about because I was searching for the perfect Bernard fic... you know how it is, when you find a story that just totally moves you, more than any other? It's not that the ones out there aren't wonderful, they really are, just... well, if you're an avid fanfic reader like me, you'll understand. And not being able to find it, I had no choice but to simply write it myself. *sigh* I love/hate when that happens... Anywho, I'll be making this up as I go, so bear with me! Expect some darkness/angst, cuz that's just how I roll, but not too much, I'm no Emo. There will also be plenty of fluff. I'm rating this T for later yummyness. I'll try to avoid straying from the way I see the characters from SC, and any OCs will fit the world suitingly. I'll try to avoid any Mary Sue tendencies, as well. I might be borrowing some elements from other fanfics; some elves I can't remember if they're from fics or the movies, and some elements of the world come from various fics. I'll try to give credit if I take anything really specific, but if you notice something you think is yours, PLEASE let me know and I'll be more than willing to give credit where credit is due. Ok, well enough chatter. Here goes nothing! Oh yea, PLEASE R&R! Thanx!
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. I'm so poor!
Chapter 1 - Nostalgia by Firelight
Bernard sighed as he slumped into the large armchair, staring distractedly into the lit fireplace. Yawning and stretching, he kicked off his boots and tried to relax. Santa had left about an hour ago, and wouldn't be back for a while, so the Head Elf had a chance to rest for a while. He smiled as he sipped his cocoa, closing his eyes as the warm liquid soothed his aches. While elves may never get sick, they do get sore, Bernard thought with a chuckle, and no elf had more reason to be sore than him, the second hardest worker at the Pole (behind Big Red, of course).
Bernard thought about that for a minute. He really did bury himself in work, even more than his job required. He always found ways to keep busy, with paperwork, or making rounds, or something. He didn't really have any hobbies, and he almost never went out with friends. He wondered why that was. After all, he was fairly young, a mere 1832 years old. But then, he'd never really fit in with the other elves, even when he was little.
"Big surprise there," Bernard said to himself quietly. It was true, the fact that he was only half-elf had made him somewhat of an outsider. It wasn't anybody's fault really; it was just that half-elves were so rare, even less so at the North Pole. To the best of anyone's knowledge, no half-elf had ever been born at the Pole. Of course, it didn't help that his father (the mortal) had left his mother (the elf) when he fell for a mortal woman. Any bitterness Bernard had felt was long-forgotten, however; his father had died centuries ago. His mother, tragically, had also died, while giving birth. The only human trait present in her son's body was his size, which was too much for the poor woman.
Bernard sighed and closed his eyes tiredly. He really wasn't in the mood for nostalgia, but the memories came nonetheless. He saw himself as a child, in school. He was so much bigger than the other children. At times, they asked if he'd been held back, laughing. Quite the contrary, however, Bernard was always head of the class, the first to pick up the lessons, the highest scorer on tests and quizzes. It came naturally, to a point, but also, he worked harder than most. Having no friends, he had nothing to do with his time but study and read. In fact, he often took on extra credit projects. This did nothing to help him gain friends, however. Now, instead of accusing him of being stupid, the other children called him a nerd, an egg-head, a loser.
Through the years, Bernard's work ethic grew, earning him a good job in Santa's workshop right after graduation. It didn't take him long to rise quickly, and at 800, he became the youngest Head Elf in history. After that, it was all too easy for him to keep busy. He had almost no free time to himself, but that was how he liked it best. At times, though, his difference still bothered him. As time passed, he continued to grow, and for a time, he worried he was more mortal than elf. But thanks to the doctor's tests, it was proved that he was, indeed, an elf in every way, except for his height. Thankfully, after hitting the millennium mark, his growing had slowed, and now that he hadn't gained an inch in over 300 years, it seemed to have ceased.
It did still bother him from time to time, the fact that while most elves looked between the mortal age of 7-12, he appeared to be in his early 20's. Still, it came in handy from time to time, such as on research trips into the world of mortals, and dealing with the various new Santas.
Bernard smiled at the thought of the current Santa, formerly Scott Calvin. He had taken the position about 20 years ago, and was doing a remarkable job. The elves were happier than they'd been in ages, and production had been so streamlined that the elves got an extra month of vacation time now. He and his wife, Carole, were two of the nicest mortals Bernard had ever met; another was Scott's son, Charlie. Bernard laughed as he remembered giving the snow globe to the boy that first year; he'd looked up to the Head Elf so much after that. He'd grown so much, he was married now, with a little girl of his own. Even his half-sister Lucy had a set of twins. It never ceased to amaze Bernard how quickly humans grew.
A dark thought passed over the elf momentarily. He knew there would come a day when Scott would outlive his child, his grandchild, and so on. It was never easy for any Santa to watch the effects of mortality on their own babies. But Bernard would be there to help, as he always had been.
A knock on the door startled him, followed by Curtis' voice, and he glanced at the clock. Seeing that he'd dozed off, he knew Santa would be back soon, and so he threw his boots back on and headed to greet him. Dark thoughts mostly forgotten, Bernard smiled, glad that he was able to be there for someone, in a way that no one had been there for him.
