Welcome to part II of my newest short story project, The Dastardly Adventures of Bard, the Disgruntled Elf. I hope that you enjoyed Part I! If you haven’t read it, click here to get caught up. Trust me, you’ll need to get caught up!
Let me know what you think of chapter two down in the comments! I’d love to hear from you. For now, though, enjoy!
The small child Elf, whose name is Timn, by the way, went bounding out of Bard’s office with such ferocity that he almost fell down the stairs. He wasn’t particularly known for his ability to remain upright so when a sudden squeal rang through the production floor business carried on as usual.
Timn was a baker, at least he wanted to be. He spent the vast majority of his work days slaving over a hot stove trying to keep up with the demand of the elven people. Each Elf required precisely 300 sugar cookies, 45 candy canes, and 15 cups of hot cocoa a day. An absurd amount, you say? Far from it. Cleef currently holds the record for most sugar cookies eaten in one sitting: 542 to be exact. Needless to say, Timn and the other baked, err…baker elves had their work cut out for them.
Timn was also young. The oldest Elf in the North Pole was around 3,216 years old. Timn had only been sniffing the kitchen fumes for 630 of those. Not only was he young but he was clumsy. Timn often found himself getting far too excited about baking that he would forget the bare necessities of life. One time he became so excited about a recently finished batch of cookies he grabbed the tray straight out of the oven without protective gloves. He spent a week in the elfirmary being treated for second-degree burns.
One time he tripped while carrying a tray full of cookies in the middle of an oncoming band of musical elves. Not only were 600 sugar cookies ruined but one Elf ended up with his head stuck in a tuba and Timn found himself back in the elfirmary because of injuries due to trampling.
I could go on and on but I’ll spare you. Do you remember how I said that he was at least trying to be a baker? Well, due to the constant nature of his accidents, Timn was relegated to bakery delivery boy. The Head Elf department couldn’t afford to keep paying the insurance bills much less for a number of replacement cookies they had to make; so they demoted him.
Timn was usually a pretty peppy Elf, but this particular incident was discouraging. His fellow baker elves made sure that Timn knew of their disapproval. They didn’t appreciate his clumsiness nor did they believe that he could bake. That fact wasn’t negotiable, either. Timn seriously sucked at baking. He knew that, but it never stopped him from trying.
“Timn! Where are you?”
The sudden voice erupting out of his earpiece startled him so much he almost dropped his tray.
“Oh…Oh, hey, boss! I’m just uh…out delivering cookies!” Timn replied shakily.
“I thought that I had you on candy cane duty today?”
“I finished those an hour ago, sir!”
“And then I told you to go clean up after Cleef. Is that finished?”
“As clean as Cleef can be, boss!”
“So, who put you on cookie duty?” His boss’ voice was growing sterner.
“Uhhh…Well, you see…It’s funny…uh…”
“I did, sir. I spent all of last night baking more cookies so that I could get better and I delivered some to Bard! You know how he’s my best friend.”
“Best friend? Bard hates you just like he hates everyone else! Regardless, we have deadlines and we don’t have time for your shenanigans. My office…NOW!”
He knew what that meant. They told him that one more meeting with the boss man and he would be fired. Any and all fired elves would end up working sanitation for the rest of their lives. Think of it as an elf purgatory of sorts.
Sure enough. After a long and loud conversation, Timn left his boss’ office with a pink slip and a mop. For all that he knew, his dream of being a baker was over.
He shuffled over to his desk and began packing up his things. He had this desk for 400 years. He couldn’t believe that it was all over. Item after item, he stashed his belongings in a box while a single tear fell from his eye. Through the midst of his sorrow, he saw a familiar picture frame resting on the corner of his workspace. It was a picture of himself and Bard laughing. Well, it was really a selfie of Timn laughing while Bard stood in the background scowling.
“Good ‘ole Bard…” Timn said wiping a tear from his cheek. “If only he knew what was going on. He’d help me.”
Then, it was as if a lightbulb had gone off in his head!
“Wait a second! He can! He’s a manager, of course, he can help me!”
He tossed the picture down, sprung for the door, but missed and faceplanted the side of the wooden wall.
“Shake off the cobwebs, Timn! We’ve got a Bard to catch!”
Mangled face and all, Timn took off down the hallway with a tray full of his leftover sugar cookies. He figured that maybe he could coax Bard into helping him by offering him some of his favorite sweets. Forget what his boss said! He knew he could be a baker and he knew that Bard liked his cookies too. If anyone could help him, it would be his best buddy Bard!
By the time that Timn reached Bard’s office, the production floor had been shut down and an eerie silence had overtaken the factory.
“It sure is creepy down here.” he thought to himself. “I wonder if Bard is still here?”
He walked up the steps, peered into the office window and found that everything had been shut down for the night. As Timn turned to walk down the steps, he noticed a piece of paper laying in the middle of the production floor.
Being the good elf that he was, Timn bent over to pick it up and went to throw it in the trash. He stopped dead in his tracks, though, when he saw that the paper said
“MASTER PLAN TO STEAL SANTA’S SLEIGH”
A loud clang erupted through the factory as Timn fainted and dropped like a block of ice on the cold, wooden floor.
You are loved.
You are valued.