Silent Night

Restored from https://web.archive.org/web/20160314171700/http://pastebin.com/TtkFagWT



I'm cold; I'm lonely.

I'm cold because snowflakes fall from the sky and rest on top of my droopy ears. After a while there's so much snow on my head that it hurts. I have to shake my head around a lot to get the stingy lumps of snow off. There's a bunch of slapping sounds as my ears flop about my head as I shake. The snow comes off and for a while my head doesn't hurt anymore, but that doesn't last long. It's snowing really hard.

I'm lonely because I don't have anyone to pat the snow off my head for me. People see my dirty rags and scruffy hair and mangy paws n' claws and they think I'm a bad kobold. They think I'll hurt them. They think I'll steal their food or scare their children or sit on the things they like or that I'll do all of those bad things at once. But I'm not a bad kobold. I'm a good kobold. A good girl.

Even though I'm a good kobold people still don't like me. Bakers shoo me away from the front of their stores; they don't want a customer that can't pay for their food. Guards in metal helmets chase me away from the places in the city where the rich people live; they don't want me making the city look like it has a lot of poor people. People pretend not to see me when I get on my knees to beg; they don't want to be reminded that they're not willing to help poor people.

I sniffle. Even though my fur keeps me kind of warm, the little pink paw pads on my feet hurt when they sink into the snow covering the cobblestones. I want to find a place that doesn't have snow on the ground - a place that has a roof. I would even be happy with a crate knocked over on its side. I could crawl inside and wrap myself up in my rags and curl up and close my eyes and sleep. I like sleeping. Sometimes I dream about chasing fairies through meadows filled with poppies and sunlight. Those are my favorite kinds of dreams - dreams with lots of sunlight. I look up in the sky, hoping to see the sun, but it's gone. There's nothing but stars and clouds now. Even the moon is gone somewhere I can't see.

I hear crunching snow ahead of me. I look up and see that a guard is coming and I don't have anywhere to hide. My little scruffy tail shoots between my legs as I turn to run, but then I find out something else: I'm too tired to run. I stumble for a bit and then I trip. Snow covers my pink chin and cheeks as I fall to the ground. I whine as I try to get back up, but before that happens I feel a hand on my shoulder. I close my eyes and I stop whining, too scared to make a sound as the guard turns me around.

"Oh, heavens abuve!" the guard says, "lookit'cha, you poor little wretch..."

This wasn't ordinary. I open my eyes and look up at the guard. He's stout, he has little white hairs all over his chin, and a face that's wrinkly like a bloodhound's. His eyes are gray, and they're as shiny as his smile. The fuzzy hair on his head grows in a way that makes his forehead look two times as big as it should be; he might be losing all of his hair soon. After looking at his face I am not as scared. I do flinch when he raises his other hand, but instead of hitting me he brings it onto my head and softly brushes off the snow on my ears.

"Just lookit'cha," he says as his warm hands brush through my hair, "you must be frozen half to death you poor... oh, but I can't just keep callin' you a wretch, can I? Wassyer name, luve?"

"Olive," I say without thinking.

"Olive, eh? Luvely name! Short for Olivia?"

"N-no, just Olive."

He grins, showing a bunch of crooked but clean teeth. "So, why're you out here in the cold wearin' nothing but those manky rags, Olive? You can talk, so you must have a mam an' da that taught you how, right?"

"I... I don't know where they are."

The man's eyes narrow and he stops grinning. "What do you mean? Where do you live, then?"

I decide to answer the second question; the first question is too hard to answer. "In the city."

"Where in the city?"

"Anywhere where people don't chase me away."

"Well, that must be very few places then," he says with a sad smile.

"Uh-huh," I say, nodding my head slowly. For a while, the man looks at me with his sad smile, but then it brightens a little. He helps me up out of the snow. I shake my two furry legs free of snow once I'm steady on my pawed feet.

"Tell you what, Olive," he says, "you don't have a place to stay tonight, I wager?"

"No, I don't," I say, shaking my head.

"Well, usually I'd just boot'cha over to the nearest slum orphanage, but no child should spend Christmas Eve in such a place."

"It's Christmas Eve?" I say, my droopy ears perking up a little.

The man grins again. "It is, Olive, it is, and I'll be step-dancin' with a forked-tongued succubus in hell before I let you spend it out'n the street or in some manky orphanage!"

"R-really?" I say, my tail wagging hard enough to throw snowflakes around.

"O'course! Me pockets might not be tearing open from the weight of me riches, but I can certainly afford to give you one night's-worth of holiday joy."

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel a smile spreading across my rosy little face. With a little bark of happiness, I fall forward and hug the man's legs, my tail still wagging quicker than a greyhound on the chase. Laughing, the man reaches down and ruffles my hair, brushing the snow off at the same time.

"Here, luve," he says, shaking off his coat and wrapping it around me, "This'll hold you till we reach me gaff."

"T-thank you," I say with a sniffle.

He smiles. "Name's Nicholas, by the way. You can call me Nick so long as you don't call me Ol' Nick." He holds out his hand to me. I sniff it, and then shake it with both of my paws before leaving one on so he can gently lead me down the road.


♦ ♦ ♦


Nick lives in a small house that is far away from the rich parts of the city. It has bumpy gray walls that have pieces of wood stuck inside of them; the pieces of wood zig and zag in a way that makes it look like the wall has a bunch of giant brown capital Ns painted on the side. There are shuttered windows, and the roof is short and looks like it's made of fur; it makes me want to pet it.

"Well, here we are," Nick says as he pushes in the door with a creak, "make yourself comfortable, Olive, I'll fetch'ya somethin' to clean up with." I follow him inside, making a tiny little "yip" when I step on the dirt floor; it's covered with hay, which tickles my bare paw-pads. I don't mind, though. It's nice and warm and I'd much rather be tickled by dry grass than stung by freezing snow. I look around the room. Nick is crouching in front of a fireplace, probably trying to get a fire going. The fireplace is made of cobblestone and is big enough to fit a cooking pot inside; there's a rod inside you can use to hang a pot over the fire for boiling water. An animal-skin rug lies before the fireplace, and a chair and a small dining table are the only furniture in the room. A door leads into a room in the back, and I can see the outline of a bed inside.

I can see things well enough because of my dog-like vision, but Nick must be blind in the darkness. He quickly solves that problem; the fireplace is now burning with snapping and crackling fire, filling the room with homely orange light. I walk over, drawn by the heat, and sit down on the animal-skin rug, wrapping Nick's coat closer around me.

"Warm enough for you?" Nick asks with a smile.

I nod my head and smile as well.

"Wonderful. Just give me a moment, luve. We'll have you spick-and-span in a jiffy."

After saying that, Nick takes a pot that was sitting next to the fireplace and walks back to the front door. Pushing it open, he bends down and begins scooping snow into the pot by the handful, avoiding digging too deep into the drift so he doesn't end up with grass or dirt in the pot. Once it's almost overflowing with snow, he brings it back and lets it hang above the fire. With that done, he walks off to the bedroom before coming back with a rag. With a sigh, he plops down next to me, watching the pot and holding his hands out to the fire.

"Shovelin' snow with your bare hands really does a nasty number on your fingers, as'm sure you know."

"Uh-huh," I say, pulling my paws out of the insides of the jacket and mimicking his hands. The warmth of the fire feels good on my paws. We keep silent for a little while, then I ask a question: "does anybody else live here?"

"With me? Ach, no. I've been by meself for's long as I've lived here."

"You don't have any friends?"

Nick looks over at me with a sly grin. "Funny you should mention that, luve. I just so happened to be planning on spending Christmas Eve on the lash with the lads before I ran into a manky waif stumblin' down the road like a pissed Brit."

My face goes red. "I-I'm s-sorry I-"

Before I could finish saying I was sorry Nick is laughing and gently tussling my hair. "It's all well, luve, I'm just takin' the piss. The lads are a grand bunch, but an Eve spent helping the unfortunate is an Eve that gets you one step closer to the pearly gates."

"Pearly gates?"

"Just a figure of speech; don't let it bother you none." Nick sticks his hand over the pot and quickly dips a finger in the water. "Alright, that should be warm enough." Retrieving his hand, Nick uses the rag to pluck the pot off the rod and lay it down on the floor. Then he dips the rag in the warm water and wrings it out before turning to me. "D'you mind taking off the coat and rags, Olive?"

"Huh?"

"Can't have you walkin' about covered in filth, luve. It'd be a crime to let you keep wearin' those manky rags as well; I'll let'cha borrow some of me old wears 'till we can find you somethin' proper." He pauses for a moment, taking in my blank face. Then his eyes widen. "Oh, well o'course if you're uncomfortable I can step out and-"

"No," I say, unraveling his cloak, "I'm okay, you just surprised me." I lay down his cloak and then toss away my dirty rags. I stand naked in front of Nick. Even though I can handle being washed by him, I still feel a little embarrassed. Nick looks a little embarrassed himself, but he smiles and spins his finger around in the air to silently tell me to turn around so he can start by washing my back. I nod my head and turn around, moving off the animal skin rug and sitting down on the floor.

Nick washes me. I jump a little when the rag starts to slide down my back, but the warmth of the rag and the gentle brush of his fingers calms me. My shoulders sag and my head tilts down and my eyes droop shut as I get used to his touch. My keen dog ears hear the wet sounds of the rag as it washes away the dirt on my fur and my pale pink skin. I also hear Nick; he's humming a soft tune that reminds me of the singing I would sometimes hear when I slept in the alleys near drinking places. There's a little "phut-phut-phut" sound as Nick stops to shake the rag free of the dirt, then there's a tiny splash as he dips it back into the pot, and then a trickling and sprinkling sound as he wrings it out. I make a little happy sigh when he starts cleaning me again. When he finishes with my back, he gently raises up my arms and scrubs them down too. I giggle and wag my tail really hard when he cleans out my armpits. I can hear it thwapping against one of his thighs. I try to stop but I'm too happy to stop. I try to say I'm sorry but Nick just laughs and tells me it's okay; he says it tickles him too.

"Alright Olive," he says after wiping the last of the dirt off of my neck and shoulders, "let's tackle your front now. Can you turn around, please?" I nod and do as he asks. He shakes off the dirt from the rag and dips it in the warm water and wrings it out again. "Can you close your eyes for me, luve?" I nod and shut my eyes. I squeak a little when he starts carefully rubbing the rag across my face. He makes sure to be very gentle when he washes my eyelids. He's still humming as he moves down to my neck. Water dribbles down my chest, but he quickly gets that clean as well before sliding down to my stomach. After a few more shakes, splashes, and sprinkles, my front is clean as well.

"Can you stand up for me?" he says as he washes out the rag again, "we just have to tidy up your legs and then we'll be done." I nod and stand up. Nick starts washing me again, sliding the rag up and down my fluffy legs, cleaning and warming them up. Once both my legs aren't as dirty anymore, he sits me back down and lifts up my paws to clean those too. When the warm rag tickles my little pink paw-pads, I laugh hard enough that I have to close my eyes and scrunch my head up against my shoulder; bits of hay fly up behind me as I wag my tail. Nick smiles and laughs along with me. Soon my paws are just as clean as the rest of me, and Nick finishes it off by giving my ears a gentle scratch with his warm and wet hands.

"Okay!" he says, slapping his hands together to clean them of dirt and water, "let's get'cha by the fire so you can dry off." I nod and trot over to the fireplace, sitting down on the animal-skin rug and stretching my paws towards the fire again. I wait for Nick to come join me, but instead he walks back to his bedroom and comes back out again. Before I can ask what he was doing, I feel something gently digging into my head. I make a little yip of surprise, but once the tiny wooden prongs start scraping through my hair, I realize what it is.

"Some of the yoke was too deep to get out with the rag," Nick says, "so I think a combin's in order. Just relax and I'll get your hair and fur spotless down to the skin."

"Okay," I say, closing my eyes and listening to the scratching and sliding sounds of the comb. For a while those are the only sounds besides the crackling and popping fire. Then Nick clears his throat.

"Olive... D'you know why I took you in?"

"Because it's Christmas Eve?"

He chuckles. "Okay, yea, that's a little part of it, but mostly it was because..." He pauses, stopping both his speaking and his combing before starting again a moment later. "Because I'd never seen a child lookin' so lonely before. You know, even the homeless tykes usually have a parent or two to look after them, but you were just tremblin' there in the snow looking right wretched. I just couldn't help meself."

He pauses again, maybe waiting for a response from me. I don't have one. I just look into the fire and wait for him to continue. After a while, he does.

"Well, what I'm gettin' at is... what happened to your mam and da?"

I stay quiet and look at the fire for a long time. Nick keeps on combing my fur in the silence. After a while, he sighs and begins to say something else, maybe that he was sorry for being nosy, but I talk before he does.

"They went away."

"Away?" he says, stopping his combing, "away where?"

"I don't know."

"Why'd they leave?"

I take a few moments to look in the fire before speaking again. "I don't know. My daddy left first. Or maybe we left my daddy. I only know that I don't remember meeting him. I only knew my mummy. She still went to see him sometimes, but she'd never let me see him with her, and I never found out why." I pause. Nick starts combing me again and speaks.

"Well, if you want me opinion, methinks your mam and da didn't want anyone to know that they had a child together..."

I turn around and look at Nick's face. "Why wouldn't they want people to know?" I ask. Nick makes a strange face. His lips are pulled inside his mouth and his forehead is wrinkled like he's thinking very hard. After a little while, he asks me a question.

"Olive... was your da... was he rich?"

"Um... well, mummy never had trouble getting us food even though she didn't work, and she would sometimes bring back really nice presents that she said daddy gave her. So, I guess he was rich..."

"So he could've been royalty?"

I turn back towards the fire. "I guess so. Mummy did call him 'my prince' sometimes but I just thought it was a name she gave him just because she really liked him."

"So your mam did still love him even though he didn't want to be seen with his own daughter?"

"I guess so. Do you know why?"

Nick sighed. "I might have a theory or two, but you don't have to worry yourself about it. So what happened to your mam?"

I twitch.

"If you don't want to talk about it-"

"She left me in the park."

"What?"

"She told me that we were finally going to see daddy together. I was so happy. She took me to the park and told me to wait while she went to get him. So I waited. My clothes and fur weren't dirty back then so I could play with the other kids in the park while I waited and no one would try to chase me away. But after a while my mummy and daddy hadn't come back. I thought about going out of the park to look for them but I was too scared that they would come back to the park and miss me while I was out looking for them. So I stayed in the park. I stayed until it was dark and cold. Then a guard came and told me that it was 'getting close to kerr-few' and that I had to go home. So I went home, but when I got to the inn me and mummy stayed at..."

Suddenly the room goes wet and blurry. I'm crying. I blink away the tears and try to continue but all that comes out is "gone... gone... gone..." I start to slowly fall down to the floor, but before I can lie down, Nick wraps his arms around me and gently brings me close. I let him turn me around so I can hug him back. His arms are big and warm and he smells like hay and damp wood. I cry into his chest and he rubs my back and pets my head to try and calm me down. I'm shaking really hard, and my chest hurts really bad.

"Shhh, shhh," Nick says, gently scratching my ears, "don't fret luve, don't fret. The past is passed."

"Why d-did they leave?"

"I can't say, luve," he says, but I know he's lying.

"Why did they do something like that? Something so bad and evil?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to get past the pearly gates and talk to the boss upstairs for an answer t'that question."

"Huh?" I say with a sniffle

Nick gently tilts my head up so I can see his face. He's crying a little too. "I mean to say that only god knows what goes on in men's hearts; he's the one who gave us a free will after all."

"I don't understand..."

"You don't have to, luve. Many people thrice your age don't understand either. I certainly don't."

We sit for a long time, hugging each other. Nick rocks me from side to side and slowly and softly scratches my drooping ears. He starts to hum another song, but this one is much slower; it sounds like a lullaby. It doesn't make me sleepy, but it does help me calm down. After a while I stop crying. My eyes are red and my face is sticky and salty with tears, but I feel a little better. Nick gently taps my head to get my attention.

"Well, you must be starving something fierce. How about we get some food in that wee belly of yours?"

My tummy answers for me; it growls really loudly.

Nick chuckles. "Some grub will do you good, luve. You sit tight by the hearth and I'll whip up something for us - a humble Christmas Eve dinner."

After saying that, Nick gently lets me go and picks up the pot. He moves back to the door and tosses the dirty water out and then bends down to refill the pot with snow. Soon the pot is above the fire again with a stew simmering inside. Nick had brought out some salted pork and a collection of dry vegetables from the back room and after a tiny bit of cutting stuff up he had them ready to be cooked. He also brought one of his old tunics out. I'm wearing it now; it's so big that the end of the tunic goes to my ankles and my shoulders almost slip through the neck hole. It's like a big dress. It smells really nice because it smells like Nick. The stew smells really nice too - I tell Nick so.

"Thankye luve, but it's nothing to be proud of," he says, smiling, "let's just hope it tastes as good as it smells."

There's a problem when the stew finishes simmering: there's only one chair and one bowl and spoon to use. After a little thinking, Nick smiles, fills up the bowl with as much stew as he can, sits down at the table, and then pats his lap. I cock my head to the side.

"Come up on me lap, Olive," Nick says, "we'll just have to share what we have."

I slowly nod and then hop onto his lap. After I make myself comfortable, Nick scoots the chair forward with a loud squeak and we start to eat. We take turns eating stew; after putting a spoonful of pork and veggies into his mouth, he'd take another spoonful, cool it down with his breath, and then guide it towards my mouth. I lean forward when he brings the spoon close and I wrap my lips around it, closing my mouth tight and leaning back so I can scrape every last bit of food off the spoon. The stew is nice and hot and salty; it's the best thing I've tasted in weeks.    When the bowl is empty, my tummy is nice and full. I rest the back of my head against Nick's chest as I close my eyes and hum in stuffed happiness. The hum turns into a yawn.

"Ready for bed, luve?" Nick asks.

"Mm-hm," I say; my eyelids are as droopy as my ears.

"Right this way then!" he says, hooking his hands underneath my armpits and gently lowering me to the floor. I giggle and wag my tail; the wagging makes my oversized tunic swish from side to side. Nick sits up and walks towards the bedroom while I follow behind him.

"Oh, almost forgot," he says, turning back to the fireplace. He bends down and picks up a bit of hay from the floor, then takes a candle in a saucer from the table. He crouches down by the fireplace and sets the end of the hay on fire, then uses that to light the candle. When that's done he tosses the hay into the fire, puts the candle aside, and picks up a pail of dirty water that was lying by the fireplace. He uses the water to douse the fire with a big "psssshhh!", then he picks up the candle again and walks over to me.

"Alright luve," he says with a wrinkly smile, "let's get'cha tucked in."

I nod and follow him into the bedroom, the little candle lighting our way. His bedroom is small, with a wooden box for his clothes and a bed that's very low to the ground. It has a nice hay mattress and it's covered with a lot of lumpy pillows and lumpy covers. There's another door that leads to a really small room that looks like it has a lot of supplies, but we don't go over there.

"You don't mind if we share, do you?" Nick asks.

"I don't mind one bit," I say, just happy that I finally have a warm bed to sleep in.

"Splendid," he says. He places the candle saucer on a little box by the head of the short bed. He then crouches down and picks up the covers before sliding inside. After getting comfortable, he pats my side of the bed. There's not much space, but I don't mind. With a happy bark, I hop up on the bed and dive under the covers. My head pops out at the top near the pillows, and I rest my head on them. Everything is comfy and warm. Especially Nick. He blushes a little when I hug him, but he doesn't push me away. I'm glad. I feel safe with him this close to me.

"You comfortable, luve?" he asks.

I smile and nod my head really fast.

He laughs and gives my ears one last scratch before turning over and gently blowing out the candle on the nightstand. Everything's really dark now, but I can see Nick's outline besides me. He rustles around and then he's facing me again. I can barely make out his shiny gray eyes.

"Goodnight, Olive," he whispers.

"Goodnight, Nick," I whisper back.

After that I slowly drift off to sleep to the sound of Nick's gentle breathing and the soft "thwip-thwip-thwip" of my wagging tail on the covers.


♦ ♦ ♦


"And remember, no peeking!" Nick says as I cover my eyes with my little paws. I'm very excited. Even though he only had one night to do it, Nick has gotten me a Christmas present. We haven't even had breakfast yet, but he's already ready to show it to me. I squeal in excitement and wag my tail into a blur as he guides me out of the bedroom. I tense up as we pass over the hay on the living room. I almost open my eyes but Nick keeps on guiding me forward until I hear the front squeak open. I'm hit with a blast of cold air.

"I-It's outside?" I say, my teeth already chattering.

"Not exactly, you just have to be outside to see it," he says.

"Huh?"

He chuckles. "You'll see."

We don't walk for long before he stops us. Then he gently turns me around so I'm facing back the way we came.

"Alright, you can open your eyes now."

I bring down my paws and look. Nick's house is in front of me. The bumpy gray walls with pieces of wood that look like giant brown capital Ns. The shuttered windows. The short furry roof that makes me want to pet it. I look back up at Nick with my head cocked and my face confused. He's looking at me with a smile that curves from ear to ear.

"Where's my present?" I ask.

"You're looking at it, luve."

I keep on staring at him; I'm still confused.

He tussles my hair. "A home, luve. I'm giving you a home. Merry Christmas."

For a moment I'm still confused. Then my face slowly brightens when I begin to understand. Still smiling, Nick crouches down and lets me throw my paws around his neck and squeeze him tight. He does the same for me, and the two of us stay together, our warmth chasing away the freezing air around us. It feels like we'll never pull apart.