Page 9 of Shelf-Made Man
When Alfred opened his eyes again, he gave Tobias a weak smile. “I owe you an explanation, at least, in return for your hospitality. How much would you like to know?”
Curiosity had always been one of Tobias’s weaknesses. “Everything.” Before Alfred could speak, though, Tobias shook his head. “But you’ve had a hell of a day. Honestly, so have I. Maybe you should just take it easy and tell me tomorrow.”
“I may… I may stay here?”
“Of course. Unless there’s somewhere else you’d rather be.”
“I don’t….” Alfred chewed on his lip and looked so woeful that Tobias would have hugged him if he hadn’t been sewing up his leg. “I’ve never been here before. I don’t know anyone, or?—”
“You know me.”
Tobias surprised even himself with that statement.Not because he regretted it—he most certainly didn’t—but because he was so sure it was the right thing to say. Usually he stumbled over words when talking with other people, but not now. And when Alfred gave him the sweetest, softest smile, Tobias blushed and firmly returned his attention to the stitching. But his insides felt as warm and gooey as if he were a fresh cinnamon roll, and that wasn’t a bad thing at all.
“I am so sorry I was rude to you,” Alfred said after a moment.
“You weren’t. You were afraid, and who could blame you?”
“I was rude. I can be a bit… imperious, I’m afraid. My father is a king, you see, and— Was. Hewasa king. Now I suppose my brother is king instead.”
This was clearly a fraught topic, which Alfred definitely didn’t need right now, so Tobias tried to steer the conversation in another direction. “How should I address you? I’ve never met a prince before. Just a countess.”
To Tobias’s considerable relief, Alfred managed a small chuckle. “Under the circumstances, you may address me however you wish. But I think I’d most prefer Alfie. It’s what my friends call me.”
Yep, definitely a cinnamon roll. Tobias managed a nod before concentrating on the final two stitches.
By the time he finished and cleaned everything up, the wound looked a bit better but Alfie’s face was drawn with pain and exhaustion. Tobias brought him more soup, this time chicken noodle, and more tea.Once that was consumed, he helped him lie flat again and tucked him back in, noting that the bedding should be changed as soon as Alfie had recovered a little. Alfie fell asleep almost at once.
Tobias spent time puttering around: cleaning the kitchen, checking his email, rereading the note from Olve Lange. Then it occurred to him that Aunt Virginia might be able to shed some light on the situation. Although he had her number, he’d never spoken to her by phone. Apparently she’d long ago heard her voice on someone else’s answering machine and, appalled at how she sounded, thereafter refused to talk on the phone unless absolutely necessary. So he wasn’t surprised when she didn’t answer, and there was no way for him to leave a message.
Since Aunt Virginia was a dead end, Tobias turned to the internet. It was about as helpful as he expected, which was to say not at all. He found lots of stories and memes about elves of several varieties—especially those related to Christmas, Tolkien, and Nordic/Germanic folklore—but although it was interesting, he doubted that much of it pertained to his current guest. A side quest regarding trolls was similarly useless, and all the search for Snjokarl taught him was thatsnjókarlwas Icelandic forsnowman. Whoever Alfie was so scared of, Alfie doubted it was Olaf from Disney’sFrozen.
The internet was also useless on the subject of dolls being turned into living beings or vice versa,although he got a lot of hits for the Chucky and Barbie movie franchises.
After a long sit on the couch with his laptop, Tobias had just stood for a stretch when he heard a rustling from the bedroom. He hurried in and discovered Alfie sitting on the edge of the bed, face contorted in pain.
“Hey! You’re going to fall again.”
“But my bladder is going to burst and I don’t wish to soil your bed.”
“I don’t think you should walk on that leg.”
Tobias thought quickly, trotted into the kitchen, and returned with an empty mayo jar he hadn’t yet taken out to the recycling bin. He handed it to Alfie with a little flourish, then politely turned his back while Alfie used it. After he emptied it into the toilet and washed his hands, he returned to help Alfie back into bed.
“I feel so useless,” Alfie moaned.
“You’re hurt. Give yourself a break.”
“I’ll bet that ifyouwere in my shoes, you would still be capable of caring for yourself. You’re strong as asnjómaður.”
Although Tobias was pleased at what he took to be a compliment, he frowned. “Is that the same as Snjokarl?”
Alfie looked horrified. “Gods no! A snjómaður is a very large being with thick white fur. They’re exceedingly powerful. But they’re also quite gentle unless provoked. They prefer solitude most of the time, butI’m acquainted with a few of them who don’t mind sharing some mead now and then.”
Oh. So yetis were real too. Tobias wondered what other mythical creatures weren’t so mythical after all.
“I’m a big baby about pain,” he said. “When I was twelve, I fell off my skateboard and broke my arm, and I guarantee I wasn’t the least bit stoic about it. I lolled on the couch for days as if I’d been mortally wounded.”
A smile teased at the corners of Alfie’s mouth. “But you were a child.”
