by Detergent
Palcë stood in his room looking out over the fields nestled under their blankets of snow. He stood close enough to the window that he could feel the cold through the panes of glass. He frowned and crossed his arms, leaning nearer to the window until his breath fogged the glass, blotting out all detail in a layer of white condensation. Giving an almost inaudible growl of frustration, the Eldar turned from his window and, after a tense moment, began kicking the corner of the heavy rag rug that covered the floor at the foot of his great bed.
Whump! Whump! the rug landed against the wood floor again and again making satisfying noises, although not nearly as satisfying as the sound his enemies' bodies would have made hitting the same floor. If he had his way, each hit would be a dead orc, a powdered undead, the corpse of someone who had harmed him or his family. Though the Farm and everyone on it had been so nurturing, Palcë wasn't sure today if he liked this place, this... what was it called again? Indiana. Too much evil lurked here.
Realising that he had started to fray the indigo and grey woven rags of his rug, the warrior made himself stop kicking it. He did not wish to be a poor guest in anyone's house but especially in this one. He harrumphed out a sigh and squatted down. Gathering up the loose ends of cloth he had kicked free, Palcë spent some minutes reweaving them until the rug looked presentable, his damage to it rectified. He felt himself slipping into the dark place he had spent so many years in, locked away in his cell, away from light and hope. His fists balled up. He could almost see his room dim, could almost smell the dank, fetid air he had breathed for so long. He felt the manacles encircle his wrists, his throat.
He gave himself a hard shake, his silvery-white hair flying out like a starburst as he shook his head. He liked his room but he did not wish to be alone now. He needed to be amongst his kin, with his people if he was going to keep the inner darkness at bay. He nearly grabbed both of his swords from where they hung on his bedpost as he went by on his way downstairs but thought better of it. Though everyone had become accustomed to his need to carry arms around the house, he knew that in this sort of mood, he could be very intimidating and the last thing he wanted to do was to cause fear in the very people he loved, the people he needed now. He went down the hallway and took the stairs down to the living room.
As he descended, he spotted a basket of folded laundry sitting on one of the last few treads. Sitting on the very top of the fluffy pile was the garment called The Snuggie that Sören had purchased for him months ago at the indoor bazaar in Indianapolis. He stopped his descent and sat on the stairs and touched the warm, plush material.
"Snuggie is for when you're feeling angy, to help you feel the opposite of angy," he could hear Sören's voice explaining again as when he had decided Palcë would be getting a Snuggie. Palcë frowned. Did the magic of the Snuggie work if a man was far, far more angry than angy? Did it work for horrible moods? He was willing to try anything at the moment but he didn't want to disturb his family, what he was feeling threatened to overwhelm him and he did not wish for it to harm anyone else. He pulled the Snuggie out of the basket and draped it over his arm. He tiptoed over to the sofa and then donned the Snuggie and waited to see if the magic would take effect.
For a while, the house stood silent. Then the front door burst open and in bounded a rosy-cheeked Ryu and Hiro, his fur full of snow. Hiro stopped at the door and shook himself out, pelting his owner with a barrage of icy slush.
"Baaaaahhhh!" shouted the young man, as he attempted to cover his face from the frigid pelting.
"Waaaaaa!" Hiro whined with a canine grin on his face.
"You did that on purpose!" accused Ryu, smiling now. He tackled his pet and they began to wrestle.
Palcë watched the joyful display for a while. As he did so, his nose began to catch a whiff of something that smelled delicious.
"What the blazes...?" he heard from the kitchen at the racket coming from the living room.
Dara poked his head into the room and saw Hiro ploughing his face into Ryu as Ryu turtled on the floor, trying to keep the huge wolfhound from flipping him onto his side.
"You win!" squealed Ryu as Hiro gave a mighty push and tossed him onto his back and began licking his face in triumph. The young man laughed and laughed as Hiro refused to let him up.
It was good to see them play, Palcë reflected.
"You're home in time. And well, Palcë- Good it is to see you. I'm making hot chocolate. You'll be wanting some, I'm sure. Just a tick."
Small clanking noises issued from the other room and after a moment Dara appeared with two cups. He extended one to the elf on the sofa and then waited for Ryu to pick himself up and handed him the other.
Palcë looked into the cup's belly and saw a mound of whipped cream topped with chocolate flake. Hot chocolate, yes. This sweet called chocolate, ever since he had discovered it on Halloween, he had grown very fond of it. He could see why people would accost their neighbours for it, though he knew one did not need to do such to get it. He pushed the whipped cream into his mouth and revelled in the sweetness. After he had eaten it all, then he tried the drinking chocolate. Mmmmm. His frown lightened just a bit.
He heard a door slam. "We're baaack!" he heard Sören trill.
"Did you find anything at the craft show?" Dara asked.
"Did we! Look at all of the different cakes Anthony got! There are five of them. Five!"
"Ah, you know cake is a weakness of mine," Anthony's slightly-sheepish voice floated above the commotion.
"The cake is more than passable," which was a compliment, coming from Nicholas.
"Well here, let me put these on the table and we can have some now and some for dessert."
Palcë heard the door open and shut again.
"Whew! It's starting to come down out there again," exclaimed DeKalb. Palcë could hear him stomping the snow off of his boots. "Brought home some of the stuff from processing at the butcher's."
A moment later DeKalb came into the living room, still in his uniform and began distributing what looked like jerky from a big packet. He handed some to Ryu, who sat on the floor petting Hiro and some to Hiro himself. He approached Palcë and stopped for a moment, his head tilted a bit to the side, a sympathetic look in on his face.
"Oh, you got out the ole Snuggie. Better take extra. It's dried, flavoured deer meat from the deer I got this season. I think it's right up your alley." He held the packet out to the elf on the sofa. At his urging, Palcë took a few pieces and tried one. He looked up at DeKalb in pleased surprise when he tasted the deer and spices- It was very close to something he had in times long since passed. The meat was tender and not at all dry as he had expected, it yielded pleasantly to his teeth. He chewed and nodded to DeKalb.
"It's good," he declared, feeling his frown decrease a notch.
"Thought you might like it. We came up with the spice blend just this fall," he nodded to Palcë and retreated to the kitchen. Palcë took another bite and looked over at Hiro, who lay on the floor, his piece of dried deer held between his front paws as he snapped off bite after bite, his great tail wagging happily.
Anthony came out of the kitchen, a plate in each hand. "Here you go, a preview of dessert." He handed out the plates. Five small pieces sat on each one.
"You look like you're enjoying the Snuggie," he said off-handedly.
"Hmmmm," responded Palcë. "Thank you for the cake." He picked up one of the darker pieces hoping for chocolate and was pleased with his guess- The chocolate cake had been infused with chocolate crunch and the icing was very rich, a mixture of chocolate, cream cheese, and caramel. The other pieces were also pleasing in their own ways.
The door to the garage opened a third time. "Sorry we're late! It's Snowpocalypse out there," he heard Yeyette apologise.
"Ah, but it's cosy in here," he heard Victor exclaim.
Sören dragged Nicholas into the living room and sat on his lap. "You need to sit. Your arthritis!"
"As you know..."
"Yes, yes, as I know, you've been on your feet all day and you have arthritis!" Nicholas harrumphed but finally submitted to Sören's antics without further grousing.
Palcë gave a little snort.
"Just the man we wanted to see!" Yeyette had a small package in her hand. She strode across the floor with Victor in tow and before Palcë knew it, he had the package in his hands, and Yeyette had taken away his now-empty plate setting it aside on the coffee table.
He looked up quizzically at her.
"Ah, you'll have to open it," she flashed him a teasing smile. "I have to go upstairs for a moment. Be right back."
Victor went to the hall closet and removed his winter gear. "It's the other part of why we're late. Once we saw what's inside of the packet, we had to have them. The artist wasn't sure if she wanted to part with all of them, so we had to haggle. It was quite the experience, however, she agreed and here we are. Yeyette was not going to leave without them."
"Hmm." Palcë turned the small parcel over and over in his hands. Even after Yuletide, he had not become accustomed to receiving gifts.
"Oooh, it's a mystery. I didn't see where you two went," Sören tugged Nicholas up from his seat and came over to get a better look at the proceedings.
"You three were well-preoccupied with selecting from the absolute glut of cakes," Victor smiled.
Palcë sat staring at the parcel in his hands.
Yeyette came up behind the sofa where Palcë sat.
"You can open it. The contents won't bite, I promise."
He glanced over his shoulder at her and turned back at the sound of more clinking. Dara and DeKalb came into the room, each bearing a tray with cups of hot chocolate. They distributed the drinks and put the trays on one of the end tables and found seats close to Palcë. Anthony came out of the kitchen. Palcë noticed a smear of frosting on Anthony's cheek but said nothing. He suspected there was a little less cake in the kitchen than the preview of dessert would warrant and he snorted to himself. Anthony had always enjoyed his cake.
"Mmmmm!" Sören exclaimed, practically diving into his cup and, predictably smearing whipped cream and chocolate flake all over his nose.
Nicholas, tutting, took his handkerchief and under the guise of cleaning Sören up, playfully tweaked his nose behind the cover of the linen. Sören's laugh wrenched a snort out of Palcë. Now curious rather than uncomfortable about the gift, Palcë tore open the brown craft paper package to reveal a plain box. He removed the lid of the small box and his green eyes grew round and then misted.
"Oh god," exclaimed Yeyette anxiously, seeing the start of tears gathering at the corners of his eyes when Palcë turned to regard her, the box in one hand. "I'm sorry. Is it too much? Victor and I remembered you once had a set similar to this..." she broke off.
"No. It is very appreciated. I didn't expect to see anything like these again," Palcë tilted the box so everyone else could see what was inside.
Sören beheld a set of seven carved silver beads for hair nestled on a bed of pine needles and dried flower petals. His eyes grew round. The beads were very Palcë, carved with knotwork in a style very reminiscent of the craftsmanship of the Noldor. One of the beads had gold detailing. Another bore a small dome-shaped green stone.
"Thank you. Thank you all for all of this," he gestured to his kin gathered around him, cosy and safe in the snowy evening.
"Awww, you're welcome," he heard Sören reply as the warrior closed his eyes in contentment. He heard murmurs of agreement from the others.
"Do you want to wear one?" Yeyette asked.
"Please."
He couldn't help but snort at her- Yeyette had run upstairs to fetch a comb and some oil instead of getting anything for herself. He smelled the scent of white flowers and sandalwood as she took his hair down and braided a portion of it it back, accepting one of the beads from him and securing her handiwork. It had been a very long time since anyone had attended to his hair for him. The kindness threatened to break him but he settled the gesture and those of the evening around the wounds inside of him and sighed with contentment.
"Nice!" complimented Sören.
Everyone settled down with their hot chocolate. It was then that Palcë remembered he was wearing the Snuggie. He put his gift in his lap and felt himself begin to smile.
The Snuggie possessed great magic indeed.