A/N: You've heard of the tale about the nice old cobbler who had elves come in the middle of the night and make shoes for him and that in return the cobbler made little outfits for them? Sure you have, everyone has. Well, things weren't exactly as nice as they appeared to be --is interrupted by a high voice-- Yeah, we're those elves and we didn't get nuthin' outta that old codger, so we decided to take matters into our own hands… --Snurfle clears her throat pointedly-- Ahem. Yes, well…this is their story.
Ch. 1: The Sales Talk
"Oh, come on, it'll be fun. And anyways, it's not like he doesn't deserve it," the shadowy creature pleaded with his companion.
"But…Oh, I just don't think it's right after all we did for him," the other whined.
"That's exactly why we have to do it. We did all that for him and look how he's treated us – more leather every night! And summer's coming, meaning less time to work. You can't really think he's just a gentle old man, can you?"
"Well, no, I suppose not, not really." The creature paused, considering, "No, definitely not gentle, but he is very old."
"Old and shrivelled, a dried up old prune-face. Why, he should be thanking us after all that we've done for him," the first speaker frowned, "and just think, we, out of the kindness of our hearts, snuck in through the window and started fooling around with his scraps. Those blue ones I made got him fifty pence, and not a whit of it passed on to us, I tell you, he needs a good lesson." His eyes narrowed as he finished his tirade, "so, are you with me or not?" The second shadow opened his mouth to protest but hesitated, then consented.
"Yes, all right, I suppose it's all we can really do. Do you have a plan?" His friend snorted in derision.
"Do you have a plan?" He mimicked in a squeaky falsetto, "Of course I have a plan, nitwit, it's all up here," he smirked and, with a slight misconception, tapped the side of his nose.