Page 14 of The Elves and the Shoemaker (The GriMM Tales #4)

Ten

Henrik

T

he following day, neither Henrik nor Johan trusted Elias to speak up and ask for help, and so they stopped to rest at least every two hours. With everything they’d endured, Henrik had never seen Elias’ positivity waver, and so witnessing him break down the night before had shaken him.

That night, they had set up their camp down by the river.

Elias had fallen asleep as soon as they’d eaten supper, but Henrik’s brain wouldn’t quieten enough for sleep, so he’d wandered a short way to the water’s edge and sat down.

Their camp was still in view, so he wasn’t surprised when Johan joined him.

They took their shoes and wool socks off and both gasped when their feet plunged into the icy water, but it was refreshing on Henrik’s blistered feet.

“I love water that startles you it’s so cold, it reminds me of home,” Henrik said.

Johan didn’t reply right away, but Henrik got the sense he was trying to find some words, and so he sat patiently with his feet dangling in the water.

“T-tell about it?” Johan blurted out eventually.

Henrik smiled a sad smile.

“My home in Varinien was beautiful growing up. My family were fishermen, we lived near the fjord. Imposing mountains with deep-blue waters. At the right time of year, you could spot pods of dolphins leaping from the surface.” Henrik sighed wistfully.

“But elf families are huge, and people began to struggle to feed so many mouths. When the famine took hold and we could no longer procure imported food, things went from bad to worse. Brothers and sisters turned on one another, or like in Eli’s case, parents turned on their own kin.

It was as though this place, which had always had soft edges, was suddenly lined with blades.

I dream of returning home, but that place no longer exists. ”

Johan reached over and squeezed Henrik’s thigh in a way that felt as if Johan was taking some of his heartache and the weight that came with it.

Henrik had never realised how empty words could be until now.

How much a person could speak without saying anything and how much a person could say without speaking.

“I know you disagree with me, but you’re good with people, you know?

You are a bright spot in a dark world, Johan.

And I’ve seen some of the darkest corners it has to offer.

Don’t ever underestimate your light.” He pressed his leg against Johan’s, who hooked his foot around Henrik’s under the water.

Henrik could barely take a breath at the contact, and he merely stared at where they were connected until a short while later, when Johan pointed back to camp and said “Fire” before reluctantly getting up to tend to it.

Henrik waited a moment before returning.

Guilt churned in his stomach because his foot touching another man’s shouldn’t make him feel like this.

But it was as though tiny wings fluttered inside his stomach, and he wasn’t sure how they’d got there.

Like being scared, but not quite. Scared for something good, maybe.

Only, that was wrong of him, wasn’t it? Henrik rarely dared to hope for good, but these tiny wings seemed determined to betray his logical mind.

O

n the fourth day, there was a buzz of life in the air.

Excitement laced with fear accompanied them every step until, eventually, they entered a clearing where a tower that must have been at least five stories tall loomed over them.

It possessed only a single window near the top, and a large wall wrapped around it protectively.

There was an eeriness to how still and quiet the clearing was, and Henrik couldn’t fight the feeling they were being watched, the fine hairs on his arms standing on end in warning. Henrik stepped closer to the stone barrier to see what was lying across the bottom.

“Gaaah!” Henrik leaped back from the skeleton-like husks that littered the base of the wall. If that wasn’t an ominous sign, he wasn’t sure what was.

“What is it?” Elias asked, trying to peer around him.

Henrik gulped. “Some questions are best left unanswered. Where is the entrance?”

Just as Henrik asked, the stones in the wall began to shift on their own, slowly creating an entryway for them. It had been a long time since Henrik had seen magic in action, and it sent a thrill down his spine.

Johan stepped forward and through the gap in the wall but motioned for the two elves to follow closely behind. Not that they needed telling; they were practically glued to Johan’s back, frightened of both entering the tower and of being left behind in the creepy clearing.

Johan seemed to be searching for something near the base of the tower. Both Henrik and Elias were his shadows until they came to a spot where something was growing.

The plant had bright green leaves with gold stems, unlike anything Henrik had seen before. As they stared at the plant in wonder, stones within the tower stole their attention as they shifted on their own, creating another entrance.

Nobody greeted them from the gap in the tower, and all Henrik’s instincts told him to run, run far away .

But they hadn’t come all this way for nothing, so Henrik gritted his teeth and followed Johan and Elias inside.

Silently, they made their way up what felt like a never-ending spiral staircase before reaching their destination.

The room they entered was luxurious in comparison to the entrance and stairway, and Henrik was surprised to find a beautiful man with long golden hair sitting lazily on a fabric chair.

“We’ve met before” came a voice from somewhere else in the room.

The owner of the voice stepped out from behind a large bookcase. He was as equally stunning as the man in the chair, but with a darkness that emanated from him. Something about him was predatory and made Henrik feel like prey.

Johan nodded at the man.

“I assume that the predicament you and your parents came to me with is still unresolved, then?” the man asked.

Johan confirmed with another nod but appeared embarrassed. Henrik instinctively knew that Johan and his parents had come to the sorcerer to try to help with his difficulties speaking, and it sent a pang of pain through his chest.

Life must have been difficult for Johan without his words, but if he’d spent his life any other way, would he even be the man he was?

Would he have stopped outside the market on that frigid-cold day and offered two starving elves a place to stay?

He didn’t know, but he knew there was nothing he would change about Johan.

“Shame,” the sorcerer replied. “What brings you to darken my doorway today, then?”

Henrik had expected Elias to speak up like he usually did but he was staring at the golden-haired man in the chair like he hadn’t even heard the question.

“We escaped captivity,” Henrik began to explain. “But these”—he held up his wrist to display the bangles—“still suppress our magic. We’re looking for someone who can remove them for both of us.”

The sorcerer snapped the book in his hand shut, startling Henrik. He stalked towards Henrik and, without asking, grabbed him by the wrist. The sorcerer stroked his index finger along the bangle with his eyes closed, and Henrik shivered under the phantom touch.

Johan and Elias’ proximity as they stepped closer to see what the sorcerer was doing was a comforting warmth at his back.

The mysterious man hummed quietly to himself, and it felt like the copper band was heating up around the sensitive skin underneath. When it became so hot that it began to burn, Henrik snatched his hand back out of his grasp.

The sorcerer looked unapologetic as Henrik cradled his hand and glared at him.

“I can remove it… technically,” he said.

“What do you mean by that?” Elias asked.

“I mean that I’m capable. But if I’m going to expend my resources on you, I’ll want something in return.”

Johan took the leather coin pouch out of his bag and handed it to Henrik, who in turn, tried to pass it to the sorcerer. “This is everything we have.”

The sorcerer looked at the bag with disgust and snorted derisively. “Your petty coin collection is meaningless to me. I am not in need of money.”

Henrik’s stomach practically dropped out of him. This was all they had. He looked to Elias and Johan, who appeared equally distressed. Elias was rubbing at the copper band on his right wrist helplessly, and his eyes began to well up.

“Zel, do you know much about elves?” the sorcerer asked the golden-haired man sitting in the corner.

“Not much, other than what I know about you,” he replied.

Now that he said it, Henrik’s attention was drawn to the sorcerer’s pointed ears. They were indeed elf-like, but there was something not quite right about him at the same time.

“You are lovers, no?” the sorcerer asked Henrik unexpectedly. He stood with his mouth open, and his stunned silence answered for him. “It is extremely common among elves for men to desire only lying with men, and the women with other women. Do you know why that is, little elf?”

Henrik did know, but Elias spoke up first, “No. Why is that?” he asked.

It surprised Henrik a little that Elias was unaware, but he had not received the education that Henrik had as a child.

“I know it is common and not met with judgment. But not why,” Elias continued.

Henrik answered before the sorcerer could, beginning to understand what he might be after, “It is because elves were blessed by the Gods to be unusually fertile. It is a biological imperative for our people that we are not all… inclined to reproduce. It would be unsustainable, and people would starve. People already do.”

Elias looked shocked. “Why don’t I know this about my own people?” he asked.

“Some elf families believe to openly discuss the gift, risks the gift. There are nearly entire generations who will not speak of it out loud,” the sorcerer explained with more knowledge than Henrik had expected.

Elias’ expression was both confused and thoughtful before he blurted out, “You want a baby elf?”

The sorcerer snorted a laugh at the question. “No, little elf, I do not want any offspring from either of you.”

Henrik could practically see the cogs turning in Elias’ mind. “So you want this gift, then?” Elias asked. “The fertility gift from our Gods?

But that didn’t entirely add up for Henrik. “Why, though? You are also an elf, are you not? You must possess the gift already, surely,” he said, gesturing to the sorcerer’s pointed ears.

“I am not what I once was, and it has been a long time since I met others of my kind. A rare find, you might say, and a useful gift to barter with. That’s my price for removing the bands.”

“Take mine,” Elias rushed out, not even pausing to consider the consequences.

“Wait!” Henrik darted forward, grabbing Elias by the arm and spinning him to face him. “You need to think this through, Eli. You risk angering our Gods by doing this. It was gifted to our people. Think carefully before you give it away.”

Elias raised his hand and stroked Henrik’s cheek with the tips of his fingers.

“Have you ever thought that maybe they angered me first, Rik? During all the years of slavery that I needed them, what use to me was this ‘gift’ as they call it? I’ve been cut off from magic for five years, and I’m taking it back.

Our Gods owe me, not the other way around.

” His voice fiercer than his gentle touch.

Henrik didn’t argue. He let Elias’ words percolate through his mind. Lifting his head to Johan, he asked, “Would you do it? Would you give the gift away?”

Johan didn’t answer, but he stepped forward and squeezed the back of Henrik’s neck with one hand and pressed the other over Henrik’s heart.

He didn’t need to hear Johan’s words to understand. Johan was telling Henrik to follow his intuition and heart. He also knew that whatever he decided, Johan would understand, but when he looked at Elias, with the stubborn and determined set of his jaw, he knew what he needed to do.

“Okay. You may have it,” he whispered.

Elias went first with an almost feverish desperation to have it done.

Unfortunately, the process caused a repeat of the earlier burning, only far worse.

The skin underneath the bangle bubbled and blistered as the sorcerer held it, his eyes closed as he performed his spell.

It was gruesome to watch, and Henrik gagged when the smell of burning skin wafted towards him.

Elias remained stoic through it all, concentrating on his wrists until he appeared lightheaded from the pain and began swaying. Johan wrapped a large arm around his waist, holding him upright until the sorcerer had finished.

Henrik could see the second it was done, even through the pain, Elias smiled a smile Henrik had never seen on his lover before. It held contentment and relief that made him appear younger somehow. Johan squeezed Elias and pulled him into a hug that seemed to release a valve in his love.

Powerless to help, all Henrik could do was watch as Elias sobbed, a torrent of tears and emotion pouring from his soul as he felt magic for the first time in over five years. Magic which had been stolen from him.

“Damn my Gods,” Elias hiccupped. “Keep your gift. This is what it means to—to—to live again.”

It was difficult for Henrik to swallow past the lump in his throat.

He’d had no idea that Elias had been burying so much pain under his optimistic facade.

It hurt his own heart just to witness it.

The sharpness of it stung the air that surrounded them like thousands of pinpricks against Henrik’s skin.

“Come here,” the sorcerer said, entirely unmoved by the life-altering moment for the elves.

A bolt of fear lanced through Henrik, but he stepped forward, heartbeat racing, and his hands began to sweat. He feared his Gods in a way that Elias did not, but he’d made his choice. Swallowing down his trepidation, he straightened his arms to present the sorcerer his wrists.

It felt like his skin was being flayed open, so he scrunched his eyes shut and panted through the pain. The heat of it spread into every crevice of his being like he’d been set on fire from the inside. It seemed that he’d endured the agony for an eternity, but then when it stopped…

Oh, when it stopped, he could hardly believe it.

Magic. Lighter and brighter than the summer sun, it rushed through his veins like a tsunami of ecstasy. How could he have forgotten what this felt like?

Henrik suddenly understood Elias’ reaction as his own face was saturated with tears of pure joy. He stumbled into Johan and Elias’ embrace and wept.

How had he forgotten what it felt like to be whole and truly alive? What had he ever done to deserve having this stolen from him?

Like the needles they used to make fine shoes, magic began the arduous process of sewing the fractured pieces of Henrik’s soul back together, and he could take a deep breath for the first time.