A/N: YAY! Another chapter at last. I really need to work on getting these out in a timely manner. Actually, if anyone has any suggestions, I'd be glad to hear them. My biggest problems are distractions and be able to sit and write for long periods of time.

Anyway, on with the show.


"You're pining."

"I'm not pining."

"Who's pining?"

"No one, Curtis. Get back to work," said Bernard half-heartedly.

"You see? You can't even bring yourself to yell at Curtis properly."

"Quinton, give me one good reason why I should be pining for some human girl."

"Because you enjoyed talking to her, and you miss the conversation. Because she challenges you. Because she showed you how to have fun again. And because she finally gave Curtis what you and I both have wanted to give him for the past two hundred years."

Bernard growled irritably in response. Quinton had given him quite a few good reasons, and he didn't have a decent rebuttal to any of them.

"Besides," the inventor continued, "It's good for you to have someone near your own age to talk to."

"Closer to my own-? She's nowhere near my own age. She's what? Fifteen? Sixteen? And I'm…"

Bernard caught Quinton looking at him expectantly and changed the subject with a glare.

"Look, even if I was pining after some girl, which is ridiculous, I couldn't just go see her whenever I felt like it. I'd be breaking every rule in that precious handbook that Curtis keeps tucked under his pillow-"

"Hey!"

"-and, more importantly, I'm needed here. Head Elf, remember?"

"Really Bernard, the Pole is not going to reverse its polarity if you leave it for an hour."

Bernard didn't have an answer to that either, and he knew that his silence would not escape the inventor's sharp eye.

"I know the real reason why you won't see her."

"Do you really?"

Before the Head Elf could protest, Quinton grabbed a hold of Bernard's arm in his calloused grip and pushed back the sleeve. The exposed wrist was mottled with bruises. Bernard ripped his arm out of Quinton's grasp and pushed the sleeve back down.

"That has nothing to do with this!"

"Oh pish, Bernard," Quinton began, but Bernard's tongue seemed to have unstuck itself, and he wasn't about to stick it back again now that he'd gotten started.

"Besides, if I go one time, it will be twice, and over and over again and where does it stop?"

"When will this stop?" Quinton nearly shouted, gesturing toward Bernard's arm. "When does anything here stop? You've led the same wretched existence for over ten years, and nothing ever changed. Until now. Until her."

"What are you saying? That she's the key to everything?"

"No. I'm saying you've been presented with an opportunity. She makes you happy. Do you really think that your discontent will not spread? Sooner or later, your unhappiness will turn into despair, and it will spread throughout this factory like a plague. And you know what will happen then. Productivity's down almost three percent since the last quarter and elfin morale is-"

"All right, all right, I get it!" Bernard didn't buy that visiting Lydia was going to solve all of their problems. He did know now that Quinton had been spending far too much time around Curtis. "But what can I do about it? If I run off even for an afternoon, certain people are going to notice."

"I wouldn't worry about that, Bernard. I'm sure you will think of something."

Bernard liked Quinton quite a bit, he really did. He would freely admit that the inventor was likely his best friend. But the elfin scientist really was an insufferable know-it-all, and what had infuriated Bernard the most about their conversation regarding the human girl was that on every point Quinton had been absolutely correct. Curse him! And now his hypothesis regarding Bernard's development of a plan to sneak away from the Pole rang true in every respect. The plan in question involved Judy, who Bernard found disgustingly enthusiastic about his proposed rendezvous with Lydia, and an excess of strong alcohol heaved in the direction of the main office. With their master successfully induced into drunken hibernation, Bernard was able to easily sneak away.

"He's asleep now," Judy said, shutting the door to the office.

"You're sure?"

"Positive. You better go now. I don't know when he'll wake up. Oh, wait. Here, take these."

"What are they?"

"Just some sandwiches in case you get hungry on the trip."

"Judy, I'm using magic to get there. I'll arrive the second after I leave."

"Well, take them anyway, just in case. Now go, go. Wait! Just a second."

"What now?" said Bernard exasperated.

Judy licked her index finger and twirled one of Bernard's curls that had gone astray, urging it back into formation.

"Perfect," she said. "Good luck, Bernard."


Bernard couldn't say he was fond of trees. Especially when there were so many of them and they all looked identical. How was he supposed to find a girl here, when everything looked exactly the same?

Bernard's information had led him here, to this exact spot. So where was she? He was in the middle of planning his lecture to the young elf that told him to come here, when he heard a whistle. It was a soft inquiring chirrup, but unable to discern the source, he whistled back. A reply was sent immediately, coming quite clearly now from just over his head.

"Lydia! Don't you ever learn? You remember what happened last time?"

"If memory serves, the tree to which you are referring was drenched in late December rain. But if you wish to prevent another tragedy, you may do the gentlemanly thing and help me down."

Once she had both feet firmly on the ground and had smoothed her skirts, Lydia smiled at Bernard and embraced him fondly.
"What are you doing here?"

"I'd ask you the same thing. You're an awfully hard girl to track down, you know."

"It was my uncle's idea to come to Venice for the summer. An old friend of his, Mr. Gregson, owns a house here, and we're staying for the summer."

"But what were you doing in the tree?"

"Hiding. The lady of the house, Mrs. Gregson, is determined to mould me into a proper lady."

"Good luck with that one," Bernard said, earning himself a playful pinch on the arm.

"You didn't answer my question. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, taking in the sights."

"Really? And are you enjoying Venice?"

"Yeah. The trees are very nice."

"Yes. Yes, they are."

"What? What's that look for?" Bernard said, for ever since she had climbed down out of the tree, Lydia had been giving Bernard the oddest look.

"I'm sorry," she said, diverting her eyes. "It's just that, in the many months after my return, I convinced myself the Pole, the elves, you, that it was all a dream. A wonderful, beautiful, entirely impossible dream. But here you are, and I can hardly believe it."

Bernard felt his heart sink rapidly toward the area of his stomach. Lydia had not forgotten him, but she might as well have. She had stopped believing in him. Bernard was just convincing himself that this had been a terrible idea, when Lydia thrust her arm through the crook of his and said, "Come. Walk with me."

They chatted for some time, exchanging "How-have-you-been?"s with "Very-well-thank-you's" as they strolled arm in arm over the grounds. Bernard found that he was enjoying himself in the relaxing atmosphere of the warm orchard light and casual conversation. Quentin had been right. Bernard could feel the tension leaving his body like the untying of a knot.

Then a shout cut through the air like a knife through a sheet.

"Lydia Hightower! Where are you hiding, you willful girl?"

Lydia started at the cry and grabbed Bernard's wrist. Her grip tightened over the tender extremity, and Bernard bit back a cry of his own. The flinch did not escape Lydia's notice.

"What's the matter?" she whispered.

"It's nothing." Lydia began to disagree, when the cry resounded again.

"Lydia!"

"Come with me," said Lydia. She took Bernard's and took off on what Bernard could only suppose was a secret escape route, the knowledge of which he would be forced to keep to himself always, under pain of death. In any case, Lydia seemed to know where she was going, and it wasn't until they had reached what appeared to be the outer wall of a group of stables that she stopped and allowed Bernard to take a breath.

"I think we've eluded her for now. What's the matter?"

Bernard was cradling his bothersome appendage in his opposite hand, trying to inconspicuously breathe away the pain it was causing him.

"It's nothing! I-I shouldn't have come here."

"But you did. Now tell me, what the matter is."

"It's my wrist, it just hurts a little."

"Only a little, Bernard?" she said skeptically, "How did injure it?"

"It's nothing, really."

"You're beginning to sound like a parrot, Bernard. Now tell me."

"It's a…uh, work injury."

"I see. Have you had it looked at?"

"That's really not an option."

"Why not? Surely you have facilities for injuries."

"We do, it's just...It's complicated."

The debate had reached a stalemate, with both parties frowning in consternation. Lydia sighed and said,

"For how long has it been hurting you?"

"A few days." When he was done extensively surveying the landscape, he returned his gaze to his companion, only to find her staring at him, an eyebrow raised in doubt.

"Alright, a bit longer."

"How long?"

"About a week and a half."

"A week and half? Bernard!" exclaimed Lydia. Her face was set into an expression of determination, and she pulled at his sleeve. "Come."

"Where are we going?"

"To see my uncle. I want him to have a look at it."

"No, that's really not necessary."

"Your protestations fall upon deaf ears, I'm afraid, Bernard. Now come. We must be quiet if we're to escape the dragon."

Minutes later they were safely in a cozy den, having arrived safely without having to engage in any perilous dragon-slaying. The lined but dexterous hands of William Hightower were gingerly prodding the elf's wrist, as the limb's owner glared at Lydia with half-hearted contempt.

"Ow!" Bernard yelped, breaking his scornful glower.

"I'm sorry, dear boy."

"What do you think is causing the pains, Uncle?"

"It's hard to determine, I fear. The duration of the pain suggests something at least mildly serious, and the bruising persists. I feel no major fractures, however. Perhaps a sprained muscle or even a minor fracture could be the cause. The pain will continue to persist, however, until you rest the joint and allow the injury to heal. If you will allow me, I can dress it for you."

"That's very kind of you, but if my boss sees that I'm injured…"

"I understand, but you must rest it if you wish for your wrist to heal. Even a minor injury can become a permanent one."

"If you were to keep your sleeve low over the dressing, he is unlikely to notice it," said Lydia.

"Alright," Bernard said, defeated.

"Where did you learn all this?"

"Here and there. As the younger son, expectations for me were not quite so high as my brother's. I explored here, there, and everywhere, brought back relics of my adventures, and well earned my title of eccentricity. Then my brother died, and suddenly, I had responsibilities."

"Lydia."

"Yes. Tragically, she was the only survivor of that terrible tragedy. In any case, I embarked on a different sort of adventure. There, that should do it."

"Thanks. I appreciate it," Bernard said, stretching his sleeve over his hand, hiding the bandages under burgundy velvet.

"Right, well, I'm now going to turn my head and pretend like my niece is not walking out of this room with a boy I've only met this afternoon. You had better run off before Mrs. Gregson catches up to you."

As they were leaving, William Hightower whispered in Lydia's ear, "Nice young lad you've found. Wonderfully strange attire, though."

Lydia smiled in response and joined Bernard in the corridor.

"Your uncle's very nice. This feels a lot better, I…Did he say afternoon?"

"Yes, it's just gone four o'clock."

"I shouldn't have co- I shouldn't have stayed this long. I have to go."

"Wait! Bernard, please! Will I ever see you again?"

"Take this," he said, handing her a glass ball mounted on a base of filigree gold. Inside the ball were water and tiny sparkling snowflakes, all swirling around a woodland scene with deer prancing around a frozen lake. The snowflakes seemed to flow on their own accord, and Lydia found herself captivated by their movement through the water. "Whenever you go somewhere new, just shake it. I'll be able to find you wherever you are."

"It's beautiful Bernard. I-" she began, but when she looked up, she found that only the trees had heard her. He was gone.


Over the next year, Bernard managed to escape the Pole and visit Lydia wherever she happened to be at the time. Their rendezvous were seldom, weeks and more often months apart, and on the rare occasion that Bernard felt he would not be missed, it took him some time to track down the girl's location. But he always found her. Every time, Lydia offered to help him and every time Bernard refused. Lydia decided on these occasions not to press the issue, but her concern for him grew with each farewell.

Then it came one night, like so many others, as the Pole slept, Bernard dreamt. Terrors and shadows played their ghoulish waltz in his mind as he tossed fitfully in his bed.


Bernard materialized in his bedroom and slung his messenger bag across the back of the chair. As he sat heavily on his bed, he felt the room somehow seemed colder and emptier than he had left it. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why he should feel that way about saying goodbye to a human girl. This was why elves didn't personally get involved with the children they built toys for. Then again, Lydia seemed sad herself to part ways with Bernard. Perhaps he could get away and drop in on her sometime. Soon. He thought for a moment at how dangerous sneaking away might be, but for some reason he couldn't explain to himself, he really wanted to see her again. If he timed it just right, he could get away when he wouldn't be missed. He thought this over very quickly, but soon he had a plan worked out in his head to visit her in her home in England. His mood lightened by his devious plan and the prospect of seeing Lydia again, Bernard threw his bag across his shoulders and made for the door.

He flung the door open and felt his heart leap into his throat. His Master's bleary eyes were filled with malcontent and his yellow teeth were bared in a malicious grin. Bernard's face was hot and his skin felt cold and sickly. His spine shook and he fought to keep his face calm as the man spoke with beer stained breath.

"And just where have you been Bernard?"

"I-I-I've been here, Sir."

"What a filthy little liar you are." Santa Claus stepped heavily toward Bernard, trapping him between his hulking body and an oak dresser. "It's a wonder why I put up with you."

"S-s-sir?"

"Yes. Why do I put up with you, Bernard?"

"I-I don't know what you mean, Sir."

"I know you're hiding something from me, boy."

"No, Sir I just-"

"I know you've been keeping secrets from me. Playing around with one of the little elf maids. Or maybe your inventor friend. I've seen the way you look at him. What have you been doing behind my back, you little invert?" Bernard's master gripped the elf's wrist in a clawed hand.

"Nothing Sir, it's not like that!"

"I'm going to find out what you've been keeping from me, and you know what'll happen then, don't you?"

"Please, Sir!"

Bernard's mind went blank as he was thrown to the floor. He made to stand, but Santa loomed over him, the stomping of his boots heavy on the carpet as he stepped closer.

Bernard shot upright with a gasp and a sob. The terror in the nightmare was but a memory now, but the pain lingered near. His heart hammered a war cry in his breast, and his curls hung damp over his leaking eyes. He looked over the night painted room, searching hopelessly for a corner of bright comfort, but all was doused in shadow. Air pushed its way forcefully to and from his lungs, and Bernard sprang from his bed and grabbed his coat and messenger bag. In the blink of a weary eye, he was gone.


A/N: Yes, I know, I'm a horribly person, I'm getting coal in my stockings and all that. I'm really sorry about this chapter. I'm not sure, but this could be the worst thing I've ever written. A lot of hand holding and running in this one. And yes, I know the scene between Bernard and Judy is strange, but I was just desperate to get this out. I'm actually really rather shocked that this didn't take me a year to get out…again. *shifts guiltily about Chapter 6* I've had a death in the family and that with school, work, and moving, normally I'd supposed it'd come a lot later, but I guess I needed some escapism. But enough about my messed up life.

There's been some question about my making S.C. a bad guy. Fret not, dear readers, explanation for what could have possibly gotten into me is on the way.

Well, I'd promise to have a new chapter out soon, and I really hope I do, but for now I need to throw myself into getting my stuff cleared out. But things are still mucked up on my end, so who knows? Thanks for sticking around though. I promise I'll get this finished eventually.

Merry Christmas to all!!