A Matter of Inspiration

They're Just Shoes

"Why do you keep returning?" Melisende asked, reclined in the boughs of a willow. "Why do you do his work?"

Elden ignored her, preferring to bend his will on the pond he was kneeling beside. An image of the cobbler rippled there. As always, he was bent over his work. His dark hair was coming loose from the tie at the base of his neck, dark strands hanging in his face.

"Don't go back tonight," Melisende warned.

"Why?"

"He must be curious. What if you get caught?"

The idea thrilled and terrified Elden. His only reply was a shrug, which apparently wasn't enough for Melisende. She hopped down from her perch, the skirts of her dress rustling. She knelt down, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

"Mortals fade." Melisende sighed when he didn't respond. "He might not be able to love you. Remember the girl yesterday?"

Elden frowned. All he really remembered was the cobbler's expression of annoyance, there and gone before the girl could see it. "They're just shoes, Meli. He needs help and it doesn't hurt me."

"It might," she whispered before kissing his cheek and leaving him to his watching.

Before long, darkness fell in the mortal world. The cobbler stood, running his fingers through his hair. Elden's breath caught as he turned toward the workshop's window. The full moon illuminated the fine line of his nose and the sharp planes of his face. His blue eyes turned to silver, making him as beautiful as any elf.

The cobbler turned and climbed the stairs, exhaustion dragging at his shoulders. Elden blew out a breath, waited a few more minutes, then leaned forward. As soon as the cool water touched his skin, he was flung forward, falling into the human world.

He stole into the cobbler's shop, cocking his head at the pre-cut leather and the patterns laid neatly on the workbench, ready for tomorrow. Ready for him. With a sigh, he settled onto a stool and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He tied his long white hair back and lifted his hands over the leather.

A flare of light made him freeze.

"So you're the one. Who...what are you?" a low voice said.

Too late, Elden realized his pointed ears were easily visible. Not to mention his tail. Melisende's warning rang in his head and he sprang to his feet, ready to cast a sleep spell. The words died on his lips when he found the cobbler standing by the stairs, lamp in hand, his hair loose around his lovely face.

The cobbler tilted his head in consideration. "Are you a faerie?" 

The question made Elden laugh. He covered his mouth with a hand and shook his head. "I...I'm an elf."

"I see." The cobbler crossed the shop, setting the lantern on the workbench. He traced a long finger over the leather. "Is that different from a faerie?"

"Very." Elden snorted in derision. "My magic is far more powerful and I don't demand ridiculous things like your firstborn."

A smile twitched at the corner of the cobbler's mouth. "Do you have a name?" Elden nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. After a moment of silence, the cobbler turned to him. "May I ask what it is?"

"I—oh!" A blush burned his cheeks. "Elden," he mumbled, feeling foolish.

Another of those smiles pulled at the cobbler's lips, making it hard not to notice their soft blush color. Elden dragged his attention back to the young man's eyes. The cobbler blinked and quickly shifted his gaze to the workbench. He bit nervously at his lower lip, making Elden's stomach flutter.

"Why have you been helping me?"

Elden tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, the cobbler's eyes tracking the movement. "You...needed help."

"That's true enough." The cobbler crossed his arms. "But that doesn't explain why you decided to help."

He couldn't bear to answer truthfully. Elden's attention had been caught by the man's extraordinary beauty, his heart stolen by his determination. He was afraid to say that. So instead, he snapped his fingers. Golden sparks flew and the cobbler's mouth fell open, his eyes widening as the shoes assembled themselves.

"They're just shoes," Elden said, trying to sound bored.

"No," the cobbler breathed, picking up one of the newly made boots. "They're more than that." He smiled, the expression lighting his whole face. "Because of you, my sisters get to go to school. Because of you, I..." He stepped closer. "I get to walk around with my head held high."

Elden stayed very still. He could smell the cobbler—a scent of leather, pine and something citrusy.

"Please," the cobbler whispered, setting the boot down. "Please, how do I thank you?"

"You don't need to," Elden mumbled. He remembered the girl who always came into the shop—her pretty brown eyes and low-cut dresses. Perhaps it hadn't been a look of annoyance the cobbler had given her. He turned sharply. "I should go."

"No!"

Fingers wrapped around Elden's wrist. "Don't go," the cobbler said. "Please."

Swallowing hard, Elden turned back to the cobbler. The grip around his wrist softened and chills rushed across his body when the cobbler brushed his thumb along the back of Elden's hand.

"At least let me pay you," the cobbler said. "Or—"

"A kiss." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "If you want to repay me, kiss me."

His heart pounded in his chest. Better to be brave and risk rejection than be a coward and live with regret.

The cobbler stared at him, his lips parted with shock. A sinking feeling pulled Elden's heart toward his stomach, but then the cobbler smiled. He pulled Elden forward, his long fingers sliding into his hair as their lips met. Tentatively, Elden touched the raven-dark hair, delighted to find the strands just as soft as he'd imagined.

Elden wasn't sure how long they kissed. He was gasping for breath by the time the cobbler began to string kisses along his jaw, his teeth nipping gently at Elden's ear.

"Will you come back?" the cobbler whispered.

Elden hesitated, the laws of his world making unease prickle over his skin. "I don't know if I can."

The cobbler's lips returned to his, this kiss far more desperate. "Please come back," he murmured. He leaned back, grinning. "I might need you."

Elden's heart fluttered against his ribs. All he could manage was a nod before he pulled the cobbler close again.

For HurricaneBC's Fairy Tale Pride contest

Word Count: 1080