Princess Claus and the Great Escape

by J L Gillham

  The only time the kitchen isn’t given a continual dusting of flour and doesn’t smell like baked goods is during the earliest hours of the morning. The wood-burning ovens are heated eighteen hours a day to keep up with the demand for sugary delights.

  There are sixteen elves in this room. All of them wear red aprons and green face masks, except unlike doctors covering the nose and mouth to keep from catching a cold, these masks keep the sometimes-floor-length beards from dropping hair into the food.

  With a quick glance I see Aelrindel isn’t working now. He and Jolly tie for my least favorite elves in all of Winter Wonderland. Once, I made the mistake of putting the jar of light pink star-shaped marshmallows where the dark pink jar was supposed to go. Aelrindel chastised me for a month.

  Aelrindel’s apron hangs on the hook under his name. He is the only elf who works in the kitchen and doesn’t wear a face mask. One day he bent over a pot of juniper berry broth. The bands of the mask must’ve been loose, because the mask fell into the pot. He had to throw it out and start the six-hour process all over. The next morning Aelrindel came to work with a beard-free chin. He began spouting how much better it is to not have to keep up with grooming his beard. However, none of the other elves who work in the kitchen followed his example. Unfortunately, since the elves’ beards grow back to full length when they sleep, Aelrindel has to trim it each morning.

  I grin when I notice the head baker named Geir. All of the elves either pretend not to notice me or are too busy with their cooking and decorating. You’ll find no cookie cutters here. Each elf shapes his treats slowly and with the patience like that of an artist molding a piece of pottery at a wheel. There are the typical circle and square-shaped cookies, and, of course, ones that resemble a Christmas tree. My least favorite are the ones that look like poinsettias. I know I won’t break out in a rash by eating them since they aren’t the real thing, but I still can’t go near one.

  There is every flavor cookie you could imagine. Today I see cinnamon cookies, raisin cookies, and of course, cinnamon raisin cookies. I inhale slowly and make a mental note to try some amaretto-flavored treats once they come out of the oven.

  Then I scurry to a shelf full of metal tins. I am about to grab the one with holly and berries on the lid so I can fill it with my lunch, snickerdoodles. Instead, I opt for something quieter. I pull out a cream-colored sack that cinches shut with a blue ribbon. Once it’s half full of Geir’s cookies from a cooling rack, I make my way toward the exit at the back.

  “Princess Claus,” a familiar voice says.

  I look up to see the elf Geir. He’s wearing his apron that’s embroidered with cookies of all kinds, and a knit long-stemmed cherry at the top of his hat. It droops down to the side, partially covering his pointy left ear.

  Normally, I tower over him, but since I’m on the floor, he’s the one towering. A hint of a smile betrays his gruff-sounding reproach.

  “Fine.” I roll my eyes as I open my sack. Geir puts something wrapped in a thick napkin into my bag.

  “Fiddle-d-fizz, your sweet tooth is just as bad as Tiny’s.” He turns and walks back to his countless tubes of icing.

  I grab a candy cane for Tiny and drop it into my now full sack. Since I wasn’t as stealthy as I’d imagined, I walk instead of crawl out the door. A couple minutes later, I stand by the east exit. Most doors leading out of the main building, or what is also called Homebase, have a rack nearby with an assortment of winter accessories.

  These include scarves, gloves, hats, and coats of varying thicknesses. I shrug into one of the lightweight jackets, wanting full movement of my arms for this endeavor. The heaviest of the coats makes me feel like a walking marshmallow.

  Looking at all the clothing reminds me of attempt #29. I broke all the washing machines in Winter Wonderland on purpose. However, I only lasted fifteen minutes at the bottom of a pile of Nicky’s dirty clothes before fleeing. I wouldn’t have been carted off the grounds anyway. Instead of sending the stinky clothes to a laundromat at the nearby town, the elves hand-washed everything while the machines were being fixed. Of course, I helped, seeing that it was me who caused the extra work in the first place.

  Focusing back on the task at hand, I soon pass the barn where we store next year’s gifts. All of the ones for this Christmas, which is in less than two weeks, are kept in a giant room next to Santa’s workshop. However, with the growing population the elves have to work overtime. An hour every day of the year is spent on the following Christmas’s gifts just to keep up. Those next year gifts fill this barn.

  Off in the distance I see Tiny lumbering my way. Normally, I would meet him in the middle and give him a good rub behind the ears. However, today I need to stay focused.

  It’s only a short distance from that barn to the barn for the reindeer. The top is made of wrought iron and curved into the shape of antlers. There are lamps inside the barn that dangle from the ceiling. Each have a light bulb in the center of an iron antler. Most of the building is an open area where the animals are free to roam. At the front and rear are shelves with supplies.

  I open then close the gate at the entrance after walking through, singing quietly to myself. Then I slip off my gloves and drop them into an empty slot in the shelves. A few of the reindeer huff and paw their hooves at the ground, probably from smelling my cookies.

  “Sorry, guys, I only have sweets. And you know those are not on your diet.” Then I remember the food from Geir. I unwrap the napkin to reveal carrots and share them with my four-legged friends.

  "And how might you be today, Noelle?" asks Kringle, the elf in charge of caring for the reindeer. He's one of the few people who don't call me by my nickname, knowing how much it annoys me. While most elves have ornate outfits that often relate to their job, since Kringle spends his days mucking out the barn, he wears practical clothes.

  They are dark colored without elaborate stitching that would be ruined in the countless washes to get out smells and stains. And then there’s his utility belt. I got the idea of using a utility belt during my Santa Simulation Training from seeing how much he makes use of his.

  "Okay," I answer. "But I would be doing much better if I was allowed to share one of Geir’s special cookies with you." I move the open sack towards him.

  He washes his hands at the sink, then gobbles all the cookies. When done, Kringle looks up at me, smiles, and rubs his belly. "Oh, were you saving some for yourself?" He mouths the word “Sorry,” then returns to organizing the barn.

  I shove the almost empty sack into my coat pocket, then walk to Roxy. The darling has toffee-colored hair with splotches of white scattered throughout. Patting her on the head gets her attention. She begins licking my bare hands. She’s our youngest and my favorite because of her sweet disposition.

  “These creatures are always more agreeable after they’ve spent a few minutes in your presence,” Kringle says as he begins brushing a knot out of Roxy’s tail hair.

  I bite my lip. One thing I hadn’t thought about in all my escape scheming is how much I’d miss not only Tiny, but all the reindeer as well. I wrap my arms around Roxy as I respond to Kringle. “They are good friends.” Then I release her.

  As I walk away, Roxy paws at the ground. I blow her a kiss but keep moving. Then I pull a piece of paper out of my pocket and unfold it.

  “Found you!” Unfortunately, it isn’t another elf. It’s Nicky. He leans forward and puffs out his chest. “Beat your score today by two minutes.”

  “Sooo impressive,” I respond, not wanting him to know how much his score bothers me. I can feel my cheeks warming in the glow of my embarrassment.

  “Sore loser,” he snaps. “And what are you doing that is so important?” He snatches the paper out of my hand.

  “I...” Unsure what to say, I glance around. Maybe I can come up with something about magic. I watch as Tiny approaches the entrance to the barn. He begins rolling around in the snow, entertaining the reindeer. Some ignore him while others stare. Tiny is free
to roam, while the reindeer are in the large barn because they like to wander all over Winter Wonderland and get into all sorts of mischief.

  Though the full-grown polar bear has freedom to roam all over the majority of Winter Wonderland, he prefers the company of the reindeer and usually hangs out near them.

  The magic here is locked tight and used sparingly. Though Winter Wonderland is a fantastical place, there aren’t many things here imbued with magic. Of course, there’s Dad, the current Santa. The little magic I am aware Dad has is the ability to make sleeping powder. This comes in handy with anyone who stumbles upon Santa during gift delivery time.

  He also smashes the magical balls against walls to get through them. Although, I have a feeling he has a secret ability he could do instead but doesn’t. He’s ever the secretive one, at least when it comes to the magic of Santa. I don’t know much about my impending coronation ceremony in a little over a week, except that at some point during it I’ll be imbued with the magic of Santa too.

  Then there is the glass dome covering this town. And the two flying sleighs. Although the reindeer are necessary to make the flight possible, they can only fly when attached to the sleigh. I come up with the idea of saying I was just doodling a picture where the reindeer could fly any time they want.

  Before I get a chance to speak, Kringle approaches us. “Nicky, can you reach that?” Kringle points to a harness clearly out of reach for the elf, who is a good foot shorter than my brother.

  Nicky holds my paper in one hand. With the other, he snatches the harness and tosses it to Kringle. The elf makes an umph sound as he catches it.

  By the time Nicky is before me again, I’ve thought up a better lie. “I’m just playing tic-tac-toe with myself.” I take my paper back. Hope that lie isn’t enough to get me on the naughty list. My cheeks burn warmer.

  He crosses his arms and eyes the paper. Though I was born a year before him, he acts like he’s the oldest.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me.” I don’t wait for a response, but return to the shelves, grab my gloves and an extra-large harness, then step back outside. The moment I feel the cold air, the shivering begins. I slip the gloves over my hands. “Tiny!” I yell, cupping my hands to my mouth. He was strolling away. At my yell, he turns his head in my direction, then begins trudging toward me.

  “There’s a good boy.” I pull out the candy cane from my sack. Tiny moans and paws at me. “Now, you know the drill. You only get your reward when we are done.” I shove the empty sack in one coat pocket and the candy cane in another. Tiny follows me to the second barn about two hundred feet from the one with the reindeer. This one is an exact replica of the larger one, except for the fact that the doors rest on sliding tracks and they are always kept shut. I slide one barn door to the left and the other to the right.

  Inside are two magical sleighs: Dad’s and his back-up sleigh. A little further down the barn are the three non-magical trainers for Nicky and me to use. All five have a black metal base. The bulk of the sleighs are wooden with intricately carved designs. They range from a depiction of Santa riding over a town with the full moon behind him to my favorite one showing row upon row of snowmen with a mountain for a backdrop.

  Along with learning how to read and write, we learned how to ride a sleigh. I was ten years old when Tiny ran alongside the reindeer as I led them forward. He became a great distraction. Dad teased that Tiny was jealous. I couldn’t get the thought out of my head. So, the next day I had one of the elves make Tiny a custom harness for our first sleigh ride.

  Dad insists I train with the reindeer since they are what I will have to use once I am the future Santa. But when I’m not officially practicing, I can use Tiny. And just like the reindeer, Tiny can fly when hooked to a sleigh as well, although the details of how the animals were made to do that are top secret.

  As a child, I liked to pretend Tiny was my own personal stuffed animal. I dressed him up in scarves and hats knit just for him. However, now his only adornment is his pale-gray collar.

  I stopped treating him like a doll the day he learned to fly. I had to wait inside Homebase while Tiny was imbued with magic. But once I was allowed to teach him to soar, I took off his crocheted hat that was decorated with candy canes made out of fleece material. He’d graduated from my playmate to my teammate.

  At first, he trotted as usual. Once he began to gallop, he also began to rise. This behemoth who was afraid of everything raced faster and faster. Apparently, he wasn’t afraid of heights. Tiny loved the feeling of wind in his face, and I loved being able to share my training with him.

  Tiny whimpers, pulling me from my thoughts. I walk Tiny to the nearest non-magical sleigh. Then, I carefully slide onto him the custom-made harness. The action of hooking him up warms me, but the moment I sit on the bench and he begins pulling, the added chill of the wind makes me shiver. Once outside, I hop off the sleigh and close the double doors, then get back on and begin the adventure.

  Years ago, I’d hand-drawn the map of Winter Wonderland as close to scale as I could make it. I’d had the forethought to sketch all the details on grid paper. This became my all-consuming focus, using it to find a way out of Winter Wonderland. It takes ten minutes to get to the grid I’ve decided to check today.

  As I journey on, I think about the next time I get to talk to Cole. Our moms were best friends growing up, and still are today. Although his parents and mine forced us to play together during the yearly two-week-long visit starting the day after Christmas, we’ve always gotten along well.

  Nicky and Cole are both sixteen, a year younger than me, but in every other way they are opposites. While Nicky would rather play snowball soccer, Cole would rather catalog the different varieties of poinsettias in the arboretum. However, both love board games. I join them when they play Ticket to Ride, where the players have to build train tracks to score the most points.

  Boardgame inventor—that’s one of the jobs I sometimes imagined I would have if I didn’t have to be the next Santa. Or maybe I could take care of animals at a zoo. Kringle always tells me I have a way with the reindeer. What if I make my way out of Winter Wonderland only to discover I’m no good at anything? I shudder and decide to focus on what I’m doing instead of what ifs.

  Cole’s the only one I’ve told about my plans. He never interrogates me and rarely tries to convince me otherwise. The few times he did, it was well deserved. Plan #37 and #61 were a bit on the dangerous side. During his vacation here last year, he even went as far as helping me. Though, if I truly did manage to escape, I fear he’d try to persuade me to not go further than a few miles from home and then return. He is a great person to vent to, the only person I have to vent to, but deep down I know even he doesn’t truly want me to escape.

  I reach the eastern edge of this grid. It touches part of the magical wall. I can’t see through the bottom half of it, like a snow globe painted white, hiding the festive winter scene inside from onlookers. As I look higher up on the snow globe, the thick white color gradually fades until the top canopy becomes the only transparent part.

  I place my hand on the shimmering barrier. For all I know, Ebenezer is right on the other side, placing his hand against the wall in the same spot and plotting my demise.

  It doesn’t take long to confirm there are no secret openings for me to sneak through. I move on from one grid to another. As I inspect the final section for today, I am so close if I stick out my tongue it would touch the wall. My face begins to warm again. Could the barrier be heating up? Is there some sort of new addition to security like electric shock? I bring my hand up, touching my face. Instantly, I realize my mistake.

  “Poinsettias!” I shout. My only allergy is scattered all over Winter Wonderland, including the table I hid next to earlier today when avoiding Nicky in the hallway. I rub my hand along the right side of my face. The more I rub, the more it itches. Then the itching turns to burning. I shave off two minutes by steering Tiny directly to the arboretum. “I’ll unhook you soon, I pro
mise.”

  I jump off the sleigh and run the twenty yards to the arboretum, then yank open the door. Without hesitation, I throw my coat and gloves on the floor. I’m soaking in sweat, not only from the exertion, but also because of the heat in here. I sneeze twice in a row, but don’t stop to find a tissue. The pollen from the flowers have a strong aroma, a little too strong for my taste. Winding my way down the isle of palm trees, I veer right at the fork in the path. No wracking my brain is needed. I have the spot memorized better than any other trail in all of Winter Wonderland.

  Finally, my goal is close. Once I’ve ripped off a piece of aloe and squeezed out all the goo onto my cheek, I bite my lip. The itching sensation only barely moves from extreme to high. As I pace in a circle, I grind my teeth to deal with the pain. Then I decide to plop down on a bench. Leaning my head back, I gaze at the ceiling.

  Much of the arboretum is covered in white large squares with what Tinker calls “happy lights.” Tinker is the groundskeeper. When I can’t find him by shouting his name, I look under the largest tree in the arboretum. He likes to curl up under it to nap during some of his breaks. No pillow or blanket is used, so there is usually dirt on his face and leaves in his hair. I don’t need him today, so I decide to let him continue with work (or napping).

  I glance around at the happy lights. Not only do they give the plants here the light they need, but it’s also supposed to make humans feel less depressed when they haven’t had much sunlight. However, the spot above me is different. While it is white, I think it’s a painted piece of metal. Maybe it’s part of the heater or air vents.

  I decide not to wait to leave until the throbbing diminishes; instead, I skulk toward the door. I’m not as gracious with myself as Thomas Edison and call it like it is. Attempt #187 is a failure. And, by the feel of my rash, I won’t be able to try attempt number #188 today.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Once I’ve returned the sleigh and Tiny’s harness, Tiny trots off to play with the reindeer. I make my way back to the Homebase. After stepping inside, I throw my coat over one of the many racks standing guard at each door. A hint of white peaks out of my pocket.