Prompt 17: Uncertain
Mr. Donaldson was waiting for Snoball when the elf appeared at the shop the next morning, just after sunrise. The bells at the top of the door jingled as he walked in while staring at his phone. "Good morning, boss," he said without looking up. He was wearing a white short-sleeved buttoned shirt, black tie, grey-blue slacks pulled halfway up to his chest and faded black leather shoes -- a typical office worker, though perhaps very short.
"Snoball," Donaldson nodded. He was leaning on the cash register, wearing his regular business clothes but with a large brown sack over one shoulder.
Snoball walked past him, still absorbed in whatever he was reading on his phone. "I'll make coffee," he said. "Sorry I'm late, I was reading the files on the Sacking of 1412."
"The Dwarvonian rebellion." The big man grunted. "Good idea. I should review those files myself."
The elf punched at his phone. "I've sent them to you," he said. He slid the phone into his shirt pocket and climbed on a footstool along the back counter to where the coffee maker lived. He removed the glass carafe and jumped back off the footstool to run down the corridor to the restroom. He returned a moment later with a carafe full of water that he poured into the coffee maker's reservoir. He ladled a handful of coffee beans into the grinder and then, while the beans were grinding at a tremendous volume, winked and pointed at Donaldson. "Smells like morning now," he said cheerfully. "I love coffee!" Satisfied with the state of the grind, he poured the dry grounds into the gold-filtered bucket at the top of the device.
He pushed the button labeled, "brew, dark," and climbed down the footstool and then climbed up the barstool behind the cash register. "Should be done in a few, sir," he said to Donaldson on the other side of the cash register.
Donaldson nodded, watching him. "Thank you," he said. "I could use it. I was up all night working out plans. Speaking of which, I have an assignment for you, should you choose to accept it."
Snoball sat up straight on the stool. "Yes, sir, absolutely, sir!" He considered saluting but didn't, and a concerned look crossed his forehead. "Do you think I can, sir? You remember I'm the clumsy one."
Donaldson laughed, "Ho ho ho, very funny, my friend. Of course you're the clumsy one, but also the lucky one." The elf straightened up a little taller in his seat. "And the brave one. So the mission I have for you isn't difficult but it's a bit of a into-the-lion-den kind of thing."
Snoball sagged. "I'm totally not the brave one, Mr. Donaldson. Perhaps I should just stay at the shop while you go."
Donaldson stepped away from the cash register, nodding at Snoball's admission. "Believe me, I am far from certain that this is the right thing to do, but for Biscuit's sake -- for all of us -- it's the only thing we can do. That you can do, specifically."
Snoball had stopped breathing. The only way Donaldson knew the elf wasn't just unconscious with his eyes open was the sudden groaning coming out of his chest. "What ... what's the mission?" he croaked. "You make it sound dangerous. Very dangerous!" Less excited, more abysmally frightened.
"I need you to infiltrate the junior high school. That was Unocello's original mission. Not one of them wrote a letter to Santa last year. They were too depressed. Every single one of them, numb to life. I mean, it's not like we get a ton of letters but those that do write them are important. They believe!" He waved his hands in the air. "And you don't have to do anything but be one of them. The story will undoubtedly come to you. The complication is the Dwarvonians. They detoured Biscuit from his meeting with the principal. We know the Dwarvonians are at the mine, so they might also be at the school."
"What about Cane?"
"Busy at the mines."
Donaldson paced back and forth in front of the counter. The alarm on the coffeemaker started beeping so Snoball jumped off one stool and climbed the other and began pouring coffee.
"Now, we only had the one magical disguise. It was perfect, whoever wears it appears as an incredibly normal human pre-teen. Ubiquitous the world around. Even if we had hardware for another, Biscuit and Unocello aren't here to put it together, and so for now, you're the only one who can believably go into the school."
Snoball pushed at his thick fake glasses. "Have you seen me, boss? Even with this incredibly clever human costume," he spun around slowly on the stepstool, "I'm still the size of an elf. I get away with it here by staying behind the counter. Everyone pretends not to notice, it's so cool. But I've seen all the movies about human schools. I'll be destroyed!"
Donaldson shifted his bag from his right shoulder to the left. "I know that, Snoball, and even with the most perfect disguise, there is obviously some element as risk, as we've found out today with Biscuit. I know that. And so, I think I have an even better solution." He rolled the bag off his shoulder and let it flop to the floor.
Snoball's eyes widened. He whispered, "The Christmas bag. I didn’t even notice."
Donaldson said nothing. He knelt on the floor and dug his hands down into the bag, far deeper than the depth of the bag from the outside. With a twinkle in his eye, he pulled something black out of the bag. He stood up and held it out so Snoball could see it unfurl -- a large penguin costume, half the size of Donaldson but two or three times that of Snoball. "You get to be the school mascot!"
The elf clapped his hands together merrily. "Oh, penguins! I love penguins!"
The big man ho-ho-hoed. "I know you do, son," he said. "I know you do."