Page 21 of The Elves and the Shoemaker (The GriMM Tales #4)

Sixteen

Johan

T

he following week was a weird combination of welcome touches, full hearts, and worried looks over their shoulders every minute of the day, waiting to see if the Queen would return.

Unable to shake the mental image of the Queen’s men storming into his shop and snatching the elves from right under his nose while Johan watched on helplessly, he’d insisted that he spend the majority of the day minding the shop while they remained busy in the workshop, keeping them away from prying eyes as much as possible.

He was taking a look at what stock he had and marking it down on some parchment when the front door jingled.

It was late afternoon, and the sun was already low, casting the sky in a haze of pinks and oranges.

Johan stood to attention when he recognised the woman. She was the wife of the Queen’s ambassador in Hallin, their neighbouring kingdom.

“Good evening,” she said, her eyes darting around the room nervously.

Johan dipped his chin to greet her in response.

She went over to the window display and picked up the nearest pair of shoes before bringing them over to the counter.

Much like her previous visit, the ambassador’s wife stood out in her refined clothing, although Johan secretly thought that Elias and Henrik could both make finer clothes still.

“There will be people watching your shop right now,” she murmured. “It needs to appear that I am purchasing some shoes from you.”

Johan quickly took the pair and looked them over as the woman continued.

“The enslavement of elves has always left a bitter taste in my mouth. The reminder of what elves are capable of when they are given the freedom to create outside of chains solidified that view. If you wish to keep them safe”—she pushed a silver coin across the counter to Johan and took the shoes— “you need to get them far away from here. The Queen covets them. And what she covets, she gets.”

Johan gulped.

She looked out of the window nervously. “My husband and I… We were… misaligned on our views on this matter. If he were to stop by, I would be grateful if my visit were not mentioned.”

Johan so desperately wished his throat didn’t feel as if it was swollen shut just then. He wanted to thank her and ask her how much time she thought they had, but all he could do was nod his head and hope that his eyes shone with how grateful he was for the warning.

And with that, the ambassador’s wife took the shoes and left the shop, leaving Johan’s brain a tangled mess of yarn.

T

hat evening, Johan lay in bed with Henrik and Elias, each tucked under an arm.

After the ambassador’s wife had left, he’d waited an hour to keep up appearances —in case what she’d said had been true and there were people watching the shop— before he’d closed up for the day and told the elves what she’d told him.

“Maybe we need to consider going home, Eli,” Henrik said, causing Johan’s stomach to plummet.

“This is my home, Henrik. My only home,” Elias replied, sounding more exhausted than anything else.

“Well, where can we go, then? Or do you suggest we remain here where she can pick us off like apples from a tree any time she wishes?” Henrik sat up and folded his arms across his chest.

Johan’s stomach was in knots as the elves argued about something so serious.

His brain whirred a mile a minute in an attempt to come up with something.

Some place he could take them to and protect them, but who was he , really?

A mere shoemaker who had only recently begun to pull himself out of poverty with the help of Elias and Henrik. What did he have to offer them?

That night, they were not physically intimate with one another.

The elves clung to Johan all night long as though he were the anchor keeping them on the ground.

The weight of the responsibility to care for them was a heavy one on Johan’s shoulders, but he would do whatever it took to keep them safe and be worthy of their love.

In the early hours of the morning, long before the sun had risen, an idea came to Johan.

As quietly as possible, so as not to disturb the elves before necessary, Johan wiggled his way free of their embrace.

The gap he left behind was quickly closed as they reached for each other in sleep and became a tangle of long, slim limbs. Johan smiled softly at the sight.

He stuffed a bit of food into his knapsack, along with a skin of water, before dressing in his warmest clothes.

When he was ready, he knelt on the mattress and nudged the elves’ shoulders.

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” Henrik rubbed his knuckles into his sleepy eyes.

“It’s okay. Follow me?” Johan asked.

Henrik nodded and shook Elias with a bit more zeal.

Elias blinked his eyes owlishly before looking around the room. “Absolutely not. It is dark and cold, and the house is not on fire.”

“Come on, Johan wants us to follow him,” Henrik explained.

“Johan must learn appropriate waking times, then.” Elias glared at Johan as he spoke.

Johan chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Please?”

“That right there is emotional blackmail.” Elias pointed at Johan, who just reached out a hand and pulled the elf up to standing.

Elias huffed until Johan bent down and kissed him softly on the lips, and Elias became pliant.

It was always remarkable to Johan how quickly Elias could go from acting like a hissing cat to a puddle in his arms. Johan liked the effect he had on Elias a lot, and he was probably guilty of using it to his advantage more than he should have.

Henrik snuck up behind Elias and kissed his neck.

“This is bullying. I’m being bullied with affection,” Elias whined.

“However will you endure it?” Henrik teased.

Elias begrudgingly got dressed and stuffed his woolly hat onto his head before following Johan and Henrik down the stairs.

Instead of leaving through the front door of the shop, Johan led them through the back, where the outhouse was, surrounded by a stone wall.

Elias opened his mouth, and his expression told Johan he was about to complain, so Johan quickly held a finger to his lips. Johan felt a little guilty because Elias immediately registered his reasoning and looked frightened, his wide scared eyes staring up at Johan.

The shop was being watched; that’s why they were leaving this way.

Elias shivered and reached for Henrik’s hand while Johan stacked wooden boxes in an attempt at some makeshift steps to help them over the wall.

Near silently, Johan went first and landed with a soft thud on the other side of the wall. The jump was a little more challenging than he remembered it being as a boy.

Johan heard light footsteps on the boxes before spotting Elias’ head pop up at the top of the wall. Elias stared down at the drop and grimaced.

Elias was evidently not a fan of heights. Or rather, he was not a fan of jumping from great heights.

Johan stood ready and gestured for Elias to make the leap.

Elias took a deep breath and closed his eyes before leaping from the top and landing in the safety of Johan’s arms.

He blinked up at Johan as if surprised he had survived, and Johan smiled.

“You caught me,” he whispered.

“Of course,” Johan replied.

By the time he’d helped Elias to his feet, Henrik was at the top of the wall, looking down. Not wasting any time, he made the jump and landed in Johan’s arms before Johan had even registered catching him.

Henrik hopped down and brushed off his clothes, as though being caught had diminished his pride. Johan shook his head fondly before picking up his bag and leading them quietly away from the shop.

Surprising them all, Elias had remained quiet right up until they reached the tree line of the forest, when he whispered, “Am I allowed to speak yet, or must I suffer in every regard?”

Johan chuckled before gesturing for Elias to go ahead.

“Thank the Gods. Where are we going? Why are we going? And why are we going in the middle of the night?” Elias bombarded Johan with questions.

“You’ll see,” Johan managed.

“It’s harder for us to be followed if we leave during the night,” Henrik said, and Johan nodded his head in agreement.

Although helpful, it was a little unnerving how frequently Henrik seemed able to crawl inside Johan’s head and verbalise what he was thinking. He was grateful it was Henrik and not Elias, because Elias would not use those powers for good.

“Do we have a long way to go?” Elias asked.

“Few hours,” Johan replied. It lit him up inside that when he was alone with the elves, his words were coming much more easily.

“I’m already bored,” Elias said.

“You are annoying, is what you are,” Henrik sniped.

“I’m sorry that I enjoy being entertained in my life and don’t spend my days perpetually occupied by my own miserable thoughts.”

Johan hated when they got like this. They could be so mean to one another, and despite the fact neither seemed to ever hold a grudge, Johan always felt sure that their harsh words must leave festering burn marks all over their hearts.

He stood between them. “Stop.”

“He started it,” Elias muttered like a petulant child.

“You… you always escalate it,” Johan said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Elias evidently couldn’t deny that fact and so huffed in annoyance before kicking a pebble along the path.

Henrik looked a little too smug for Johan’s liking.

“He’s right. You do start it,” Johan said.

Henrik opened and closed his mouth a few times before clamping it shut and looking in the opposite direction, like the bushes were suddenly the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

Johan pondered whether all elves were quite as dramatic as the two he was falling for.

The sun still hadn’t risen by the time Johan took them off one of the main paths and onto an overgrown track.

“How much are you dying to ask him if he’s sure this is the right way?” Elias asked Henrik, who was eyeing the long grass sceptically.

“I’m certain that Johan is certain he knows the right way,” Henrik replied, and when the words registered, Johan snorted a laugh.

They walked a little farther and then broke through a tree line into a clearing of sorts. In the spring, it was quite beautiful, filled with wild flowers, but right then it looked neglected. Johan supposed that it had been really. How long had it been since he’d last come here?

On the far side of the clearing was a small hunting cabin.

The sight of it brought back bittersweet memories for Johan, and because he’d learned the grief of loss never really went away, being here poked at the wound until he ached to see his father again.

Ached to be able to ask his advice or receive a reassuring squeeze to the back of his neck.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself.

“I never doubted you for a second,” Elias gloated. “But what is this place?”

Johan swallowed past the ball of emotion in his throat as some of the greatest memories of his life bombarded him.

“Mine,” he said barely above a whisper.

Johan approached the cabin with the elves trailing closely behind him. He lifted the wooden latch on the door, and it creaked loudly as it swung open. A thick layer of dust showered them when they stepped over the threshold.

Inside was much the same as it had been the last time he’d come, only in desperate need of a clean.

By the door were his and his father’s bows and quivers filled with arrows.

He ran his finger along his father’s bow; the two of them had always struggled to connect, but hunting and fishing together had been the exception.

Hunting was the one place where Johan’s silence was a benefit instead of a hindrance, and one of the rare times he’d felt worthy of his father’s love.

Elias and Henrik remained quiet, clearly recognising that Johan needed a moment to gather himself.

“It’s… small. But the land is mine,” he explained. “We could build.”