Here, have another. Two in one day, ooooo
I either have ideas and don't know how to put them together or want to write and don't have a clue what. Everything seems to be very long and plotless. I'm lacking at the minute and not enjoying it.
Just once, North thought as a loud thud echoed behind as Phil crashed through the door, muttering jibberish and pointing every which way, a crazed look in his eyes, I would like an uneventful day. Judging by the crashing coming from outside, today would not be that day.
"Slow down, Phil!" the large Russian exclaimed as he laid down his unfinished project - an intricately carved wooden box shaped like a wrapped present with ornate detailing which, when opened, would surprise the opener with a dozen miniature different planes flying out and about the room. He'd been working on it for a while but hadn't yet managed to get the planes to fly. Not because he couldn't (heck knows if anything magic needed creating, North was the one to go to) but because every time he picked up a project it was almost immediately put back down again due to interruptions. "What do you mean 'mutiny'..?"
The yeti simply responded with one word as though that was all the explanation needed. Of course, you can guess what that word was or, better yet, that name. And unsurprisingly, it was plenty explanation enough. More crashing and some squealing sounded from the next room and North just sighed. This boy would be the death of him.
The sight he was met with when he pushed open the large oaken doors made him wish he'd stayed in his room. Toys were scattered all over the floor, the small elves scrabbling over each other in a pile-up, seemingly trying to reach something. It was as though the hoard had fallen from a net on the ceiling, leaving a jumble of the little helpers rocking on their behinds, jingling shoes and pointy hats sticking up in every direction. Tinsel in all colours hastily decorated the room and some of them had resorted to slight violence to increase their lead. More than a few of them lay discarded in the corners of the large space, tied up by their fellow elves. Yetis stood at the back, looking less than amused at the scene before them.
Though he couldn't see what the brainless creatures were doing (he had no other words to describe them - they were definitely not the helpful things the story books imagined them to be), North was not surprised to see a certain winter spirit hovering gleefully over the mass, a mischievous smile covering his face. His eyes were lit up like some kind of madman, staring down at his creation with glee. No doubt about it, Jack had created this mess and funnily enough, it would be North to clean it up.
"Ah, North!" The winter spirit waved as he spotted the Cossack, signalling as though to call him closer. Below him, the elves were still scrabbling. "You're just in time!"
North eyed the boy suspiciously, seeming far too happy above the giant 'mutiny', as Phil had called it. "In time for what…?" He almost didn't want to know.
A gleeful trumpet sounded from the centre of the room, shocking the large man who jumped backwards, clutching his hand over his heart at the shock of the sudden sound. In an instant, the elves stopped scrabbling, defeated murmurs echoing the room. Jingling hats swished as the hoard moved back to reveal a singular elf standing triumphantly at the centre, a glistening golden crown on his head and a small stick in his hands. North peered closer, trying to ascertain what the item was when Jack announced: "All hail Lord Tinkle, winner of the newly annual 'Elf games'!".
North had no idea what was happening in front of him. Jack had never looked so happy as the so-proclaimed Lord Tinkle held the staff above his head, forcing the hoard to bow in resignation at their new leader. Tinkle aimed the stick at the two elves closest to him who were still standing, a stern look decorating his face as he jingled what, if North spoke Elfish would have most definitely been 'bow, peasants'.
The two grumbled but with a swift smack from the staff, they grudgingly lowered to the floor. Tinkle gleaned somewhat sadistically and if North didn't know any better he would absolutely say this new Elf King was Jack in disguise.
"Jack, what is going on?"
"Elf games." He simply said, as though that explained everything.
"Meaning?" North coaxed. One look at the large Russian's face confirmed he was clueless as to what was going on.
"Meaning Tinkle now runs the workshop for the next year."
To prove Jack's point, the said elf walked up to North, held out his stick and delivered a swift blow to the man's leg. North looked down, baffled. The elf jingled for a few moments, talking around to the yetis (none of whom had any idea what he was rambling about, nor did they really care) and his elf subjects, then wandered off in the direction North had just come from.
A loud slam echoed as the door to North's private workroom was hurled shut. Out of sight, Tinkle made himself at home on the Russian's chair (now his), sitting in a very authoritative stance. He did have a lot of responsibility now he ran Sanford Clausen so it was only right to act that way. His eyes gleamed as he spotted a plate of freshly baked cookies. Also his, he declared.
Outside, North was still standing in the same spot, his mouth agape.
"I don't think you're getting back in there," Jack chuckled, obviously more amused than the yetis, "Tinkle takes his role very seriously."
North started to walk back to his office (presumably to kick the elf out) but didn't even manage to finish his first step before a swarm of elves surrounded him, all jingling at once.
"Shoo with your little pointy heads," he muttered, pushing one to the side with his foot. The action was clearly not appreciated, for he received about twenty kicks back in return. Another step; another twenty kicks assaulted him. The message was clear - North had been kicked out of his office and wasn't allowed back in.
Jack could practically sense the moment the Guardian of Wonder decided to murder him. All it took was one glance for the winter spirit to jump up, calling for the wind to carry him out the window and away.
Laughter erupted from the young spirit at the same time a loud bang came from the workshop, a string of curses following in Russian.
Jack decided he'd stay away for a while, just to be safe. Just over two weeks later he returned to find the elf still in the same chair, countless empty cookie plates surrounding him and a golden plaque reading 'Lord Tinkle's office' hanging on the closed door.