Young Writers Society

There's no job too small for an elf. Nope. They'll anything for anyone. Provided that they are well paid for it. 'Cause an elf can do anything. Be any size needed to get the job done. Fix a wagon. Easy. Give a giant a good scratch right where it can't reach. No problem. Making and fixing shoes, however, is an elf specialty. There's an entire town full of elves that make and repair shoes and only one shoemaker. The elves don't make shoes for everyone, but it's not all that uncommon for a pair of baby boots or children's church shoes to appear if there's a family in need. But they must leave a bowl of milk in the place where they found the shoes or else the elves with snatch the shoes back as quickly as they had appeared.

But even if they don't make shoes for everyone, the shoemaker was a poor man. Couldn't hardly buy food for his family. It didn't take long for a pair of shoe elves to notice this and start to feel bad for him. Making mischief was one thing, but letting a family starve because the town didn't need their services was another.

"We did this to him, didn't we?" asked Neeko.

"Yes, we did," said Teeko. "Spending so much time fixing shoes, we forgot about the human who makes and fixes shoes." He hangs his head in shame.

"How awful for the shoemaker!" exclaimed Neeko.

"He's not going to have enough money to buy leather soon, and he won't be able to make shoes to sell. He'll starve!"

"Come. We must come up with a plan to help him."

The two elves shrunk down to the size of mice. That way they could stay hidden. Humans of the town knew that the elves were out there. Where else did the baby boots and church shoes come from? But the humans weren't allowed to see them. Everything would be ruined if that were to happen!

Neeko and Teeko climbed up into the rafters of the shoemaker's house. From there they saw the skinny little made cutting up his last piece of leather. It was only enough to make shoes for a boy of four years. The shoemaker worked slowly, but diligently. He was so thin that his cheeks were sunken into his face, and the shape of the bones in his hand could be seen easily.

The elves' hearts sank. It was horrible. Just horrible that their light-hearted shoe-fixing could cause such suffering, while it made everyone else so happy. They went into the next room, where his wife and three children were. His wife was standing over a cooking pot, making a stew that was hardly enough to feed a family of five, and the tiny children were waiting patiently.

"Look at their shoes!" said Neeko. "All tattered, they are."

"That's not they way things should be." Teeko shook his head. "Not at all. A shoemaker's family must have shoes of their own.

"Right. What shall we do? We must help them, of course."

Teeko nodded. "Of course."

The elves scratched their chins and chewed their cheeks. What to do? What do to? It had to be something good.

Then Teeko snapped his fingers. "I've got it," he said. "He'll not be putting those shoes together those pieces of leather today. His supper is nearly ready, and he's very tired."

"So we shall put the shoes together for him?" asked Neeko.

"That's right." Teeko scratched his chin. "Hm. But there's one problem. Who shall buy the shoes? Making shoes takes a little of the work out of it for him, but what good will it do if he can't sell them?"

"Too true, too true," Neeko agreed.

Again, they scratched their chins in thought.

This time it was Neeko's turn to snap his fingers and say, "I've got it!"

"Yes?" asked Teeko.

"The miller has a son of four years who will fit these shoes perfectly. My sister, Neeka, was going to give him new shoes in a few weeks--the miller has always been good about paying her--so we'll just put a few extra holes in the boy's shoes so he'll need them tomorrow instead of a few weeks from now."

"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"

Neeko smiled proudly. "I thought as much. Come, let's go to it."

And so the two elves went to work. The miller lived no too far from the shoemaker, so it was a fine, relaxing walk. By the time the elves arrived, night had fallen, so the miller's son was tucked away in his little bed. Such a sweet face he had. He would be so pleased with his new shoes.

Mischief-making is an elf's favourite activity, so Neeko and Teeko snickered and giggled the entire time they were poking holes in the boy's shoes, deciding how big they should be, where they would go, and wondering how Mrs. Miller would react once she discovered her son's shoes were ruined. What fun!

Neeko brushed his hands together, satisfied with his work/ "Well, I think these shoes are sufficiently ruined."

Teeko nodded in agreement. "Mr Miller and his wife won't know what hit them."

"Darn straight." Neeko rubbed his hands together with delighted anticipation. "Now, let's go make some fantastic shoes for the little boy."

To be continued