As he laid down his head that evening, Timothy noticed the uppermost pocket on his uncanny calendar. A soft light, coming from the inside, had set it aglow.

He looked to the elves for an answer, but Hinky, Stinky and Dinky were snoring heavily curled around his feet, each covered with a portion of the woolen blanket.

It seemed to Timothy that they had lost their magic and their colours, as they tossed and turned and fought for an extra bit of space, pushing each other and Timothy's feet like three sleeping perfectly ordinary children. Soon, Timothy's eyes closed too, and he pulled at the blanket unknowingly. Finding himself bared of his protective layer of warmth, Hinky jumped up.

"Wake up!" he whispered, poking Dinky. "Everybody's asleep. It's perfect, Dinky! Wake up!"

The elf opened sleepy eyes, glared at Hinky, then went back to sleep. But Hinky wouldn't have any of that, so he pulled Dinky out of bed forcefully after stuffing his mouth with one of his socks.

"Here," he said, shoving an axe twice his size in Dinky's arms. "You hold this end and I'll take the other one. It's such a pity Stinky can never be counted on. He always tells on me, he does."

Dinky's knees trembled under the weight. He made efforts to spit out the sock, but he just couldn't. Then, it occurred to him that the sock would have to be pulled on his freezing foot, and that couldn't be done without some help from Stinky, or without letting go of the large wooden handle of the axe. He stabilized himself on his naked foot and gave Stinky a push with the other.

Stinky sniffed and was not pleased, then he opened an eye and surveyed the sight. Then, he jumped out of bed and atop the axe that his two companions were struggling to carry away.

Dinky crashed to his knees under the weight. Hinky's end of the axe fell on his toes, and the elf let out a desperate cry of pain.

"I don't believe this!" said Stinky. "You are going without me! You said it wouldn't be done anymore! Treason! Wake up, Tim-something!"

Dinky pulled the sock out of his mouth with trembling hands. Then, as he clothed his naked foot, he started feeling quite sorry for waking Stinky up to cause such a drama.

"We were not going without you," lied Hinky. "You just looked so peaceful that we thought... errr... we should give you a few more minutes of sleep."

"You did think, didn't you? I always strike the first blow on the tree and you know it! You were going to steal my first blow! I don't believe it! I see what's going on... You're jealous! It's why you got me in this mess in the first place."

"Got you in this mess?" exploded Hinky. "I told you to be careful with Rudolph's nose! I told you to strap it on properly! You knew that it always came off, and yet you just let it blink and shine on its own!"

Stinky clapped his hands mockingly.

"That's what a nose does! It's supposed to be attached to the face! But not as far as Hinky is concerned! Hinky does as he pleases. Hinky takes Rudolph's nose off his face and uses it as a GPS system when Klaus isn't looking, and he goes searching for meteor pieces in the Snowy Woods. I should have told old man Klaus that you were to blame the exact time when Rudolph's nose first fell off. He could have undone your stupid magic in a second. But I didn't! And why is that, Hinky?"

Dinky handed Stinky his blue velvet robe, and the latter pulled it on angrily. As anxious as he had been to bring back a Christmas tree, he now sulked and hissed, and soon started working his magic to shrink the gigantic axe charmed by Hinky.

"I shouldn't have even mentioned it to him," he whispered, frowning at Dinky. "He always makes such a mess out of everything in the world. If Tim-something wakes up and the surprise is spoilt, Hinky will not have a velvet cap and a bell anymore, by my striped socks! Here. Grab this end and let's have a try..."

Stinky blew a wave of snow-like confetti. The axe was surrounded and enwrapped in a warm light that started to pulsate softly in the dark, casting warmth on the four sleeping children who sighed with happiness.

George, one of Timothy's four roommates, was suddenly in an upright position, his eyes wide open and his face aglow.

"Mrs Layla!" he cried desperately before he started to sob. "I'm scared! I had a nightmare! Mrs Layla!"

Stinky slapped the back of Hinky's head. Hinky, furious and frustrated, passed on the slap to Dinky's right ear which flapped indefinitely as the elf looked back with tears in his eyes.

"You had to wake him up!" Hinky hissed, pointing at Stinky. "And you," he said to Stinky, "had to make a scene, to wake him up!" he continued, pointing at the boy.

"Hinky, you lollipop, you! He can't see us! Remember?"

"Nevertheless," answered Hinky, covering his ears, for the sound of the little boy's cries was deafening him. "He feels us, and Timothy is going to kick us out. The mission will have to be aborted. And we've only got twenty-one more days until—"

"Shut up," said Dinky faintly. "Don't say it! I can't even imagine a world without Snowflake, Snowfall, and Snowball. I just can't!"

Hinky's red cheeks grew wet. Stinky started to snivel and to sob. As for Dinky, he pulled the flapping ends of his ears down, rocking himself until he grew dizzy and crashed to the ground.

"You had to call us by our names, you cocoa pudding, you!" said Hinky as tears trickled down his face.

"And such beautiful names they are!" answered Stinky, choking on his own sobs.

Dinky crawled across the floor until he reached George's small bed. He just didn't have the strength to stand up anymore, so he pulled himself over the edge of the bed, coming to sit next to the little boy.

"Once upon a time, there were three little elves, Georgie. Snowflake," he said, and his little hand went to his chest. "Snowfall," and he pointed at Hinky, "and Snowball," and he indicated Stinky, although, deep down, he knew the little boy wouldn't see a thing. "They were young and foolish and they stuffed themselves with pudding and gingerbread until they got sick. Old man Klaus loved them—"

"He didn't love them! Don't lie to him!" interfered Hinky, climbing next to George and the elf.

Dinky sighed. "He did love them, but they were so, so mean. They tricked him, they stole his clothes, they tied girly ribbons in his beard at night, and they pranked the other elves and disrupted the toy-making process."

George stretched his arms and yawned, and his little head came to rest unknowingly against Dinky's skinny shoulder. It felt very soft, a bit cold, but nonetheless comfortable.

"I remember that one time when Klaus sent Snowfall out to look for wood. The fire was dying out, you see? And because of it, the mechanism on the line was slowing down. It was the twenty-third of December, and the next day Klaus would take off. But there weren't enough toys for everybody in the world, so many kids would go without. And Snowfall was gone for ages. We set up a searching party because we were afraid the wolves had eaten him. But then, twelve hours later –"

"They found me hidden in the cupboards-room," said Hinky ecstatically.

George let out a new sigh and his frightened face was changed by a faint smile.

"And he had eaten all the chocolate pudding. He was just about as big as a pig by that time, so we had to break down the walls of the pudding cupboard to get him out."

Stinky roared with laughter at the memory of round-faced, balloon-like Snowfall – or rather Hinky- being pushed through the door forcefully by three of their elf-brothers.

"And do you know, little George, what they made him do to lose the extra fat?"

The boy curled with his head in Dinky's arms, as the elf patted his wavy hair with an almost limp hand.

"They made him chase a wild reindeer every evening to get him back in the stables. Now... old man Klaus has many reindeer, but there is one – this wild, mean one – who spits at you and puts out his large, red tongue. If you annoy him, his nose will catch fire. And he is mighty proud of his huge, red nose. He uses it to get directions right."

Stinky gasped. Awake and frowning was Timothy who secretly expected the three to start singing and throwing weird confetti, breaking things, and possibly scaring the other kids to death.

But Hinky came closer to George's ear, and he whispered softly.

"That's why I charmed his nose and made it fall off. And then I took it from him. And Rudolph has changed his naughty ways and has been listening to me ever since."

Timothy smiled. But, because he knew that Hinky's deed was essentially very, awfully bad, he covered his face with the blanket and waited patiently for the image of the noseless reindeer to fade from his memory.

"But," he said at long last, "why was he so wild and mean?"

Hinky, Dinky and Stinky drew in long deep breaths, then answered in a choir.

"Because all of the other reindeers used to laugh and call him names. They never let poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games. And one foggy Christmas eve, old Klaus came to say—"

"Rudolph with your nose so bright... Won't you guide my sleigh tonight?" sang Timothy happily.

George hummed asleep as the elves all frowned and pouted. "Now, why would you even ask us if you know the story?"

"But the story says that all the reindeer now love him," said Timothy sadly. "And you say you took his nose from him. All of the other reindeer must taunt him terribly. How could you, Hinky?"

"I didn't really take his nose from him," whispered Hinky somewhat apologetically. "I just made it come off to use it while searching for meteor pieces in the Snowy Forest."

"So I was right!" said Stinky proudly. "That's where you got those pieces. Bless you, Hinky Snowfall! What we would have down without them, I just do not know! I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"And I'm sorry I made Rudolph's nose come off," answered Hinky, grabbing his elf-brother in a tight hug. "What do you say we go get our Christmas tree now?"

They both looked at Timothy, and the boy stared back at them. He had indeed had a dream of a large tree adorned with stars and candy, but where he would find such a tree he did not know.

"But the surprise is ruined!" wailed Hinky, raising a hand to slap Dinky's ear again to which Dinky answered with a long, very loud snore.

***

The two elves worked their magic to shrink the Christmas tree, snowy boughs and all, in order to carry it back. Timothy hadn't been especially pleased. To him, the quest of removing a tree from a forest sounded awfully much like theft, robbery, or whatever it was called ( he didn't know the word ).

But Hinky and Stinky were completely unaffected by his worrying remarks. Where they came from, there was no such thing as tree poaching. Christmas trees were allowed to grow in peace, and only one per year was removed to serve Santa Klaus during the toy-spreading season.

"So," said Timothy as they silently sneaked out of the forest at the break of dawn. "What are we supposed to do with it now? We don't have ornaments, and we don't have money..."

"Ah, yes," answered Stinky with a serious air, "but we do have hope."

Hinky smirked and elbowed his elf brother. "I, for one, do hope we'll find some food quite soon."

"I'm being serious, Hinky," said Stinky. "We have to get a job."

Timothy was surprised. He squeezed the shrunk Christmas tree in his pocket until its needles sank into his fingers. What job could he possibly do, he wondered, remembering that he wasn't especially skilled at anything. He didn't even know how to sew properly, or at least so Jena said, even though he sewed consistently, fixing everybody's socks and shirts because the old lady didn't see very well anymore. He never made his bed because he had been scolded repeatedly for not arranging the bedsheet and the blanket as Jena would have liked them. He couldn't cook, because he had never been allowed to touch the stove ( "What if you set the building on fire, God forbid! Keep away!" ) or the food ( "You might pour too much in the pan, Timmy, and then we'll have to just throw it away!" )

"A job? All three of us must get a job?" he inquired timidly. "Do you suppose anybody will hire all three of us together or each—"

"God, I hope they hire us together!" voiced Hinky loudly. "I can only work in a team... It's why Stinky and Dinky are here with me. Back up North, we used to do everything together. Dinky would create a diversion, Stinky would watch out, and I would sneak in the cupboards room where Klaus kept all his candy. When our turn in the kitchen came, I mixed up the ingredients, Dinky oversaw the baking, and Stinky stuffed his pockets – hence the gingerbread cookies! Santa always suspected Fluff, and it must have been why the old man was kicking him that fateful night..."

No sooner had the elf finished the sentence than they saw Stinky running madly towards them with a newspaper that he had – undoubtedly – fished out of some garbage can.

"Disabled person," shouted the elf, stopping to catch his breath, then starting off again towards them. "Looking for somebody—"

He halted before Timothy and Hinky and rested with his hands on his knees for a moment, then he took the newspaper before his eyes again.

"To walk five dogs. Previous experience not required. Must be a dog-lover and very responsible. We are responsible, aren't we?"

Hinky glared at him after snatching the newspaper from his burning hands.

"Are we? It never occurred to me whether we are responsible or not. Dinky is responsible... He must still be singing little Georgie to sleep," he finished sarcastically, for he was absolutely sure Dinky was only being terribly lazy.

Timothy glanced at the newspaper ad over Hinky's shoulder. There was no way, he thought, they would convince the author that they could do the job without losing the dogs, killing themselves while taking care of the dogs or running away with them if they happened to be really fluffy and friendly. On top of everything else, he was feeling rather hungry, thirsty, and insecure, and he had just realized that depending on the kind of person the author of the ad was, he might not have seen either Hinky or Stinky, so they stood a better chance of going jobless.

"I propose we call him," said Stinky, pointing at the phonebooth across the street. "I found some coins. Come on!"

So they crossed the street holding Timothy's hands because the boy was very much afraid of the passing cars. What was more, the elves' ideas that they did not need to wait for the green light nearly got them run over.

The red booth was very much available, so Stinky dialed the number, listening closely to every beep that followed every push of a button. Music greeted his ears, and he started to pace around in a timid dance, to which Hinky poked his pointy ear.

"Pay attention, Stinky! This is very important. You said so yourself before—"

But Stinky put his hand over Hinky's mouth,

"Yes, hello," he followed in a serious voice. "My name is Timothy and I am ten years old. I read your post in the job section of a local newspaper... Yes – As it is, I am looking for a simple job to earn some money. I need the money for... ornaments for the Christmas tree with which I plan to surprise the children of a local orphanage."

Burning with shame, Timothy pulled the hood of his jacket over his face. He couldn't have put together half of that speech, so what would happen if they had to actually meet the man?

"Yes, of course, I can meet you, of course!" Stinky was saying. "And thank you very much! Indeed, half an hour from now, in the park. Yes, of course... Bye!"

Hinky grabbed him by the collar and gave him a good shake.

"What is wrong with you? It could be some crazy person or something! Half an hour from now?!"

"By my striped socks, Hinky, you ice cream cone of an elf! We are going to do this because we need to do good deeds. Timothy here will really enjoy it. He has five dogs! Five! Can you imagine?"

Hinky kicked him, then he grabbed him in his arms and squeezed him tightly. Timothy retrieved the newspaper to re-read the ad, even though he couldn't really read very well.

"Also," followed Stinky joyously. "He'll pay you three times the amount he offered, just because you're going to donate the money. How about that?"

***

As they approached the gate to the park, Timothy frowned. That much money would have sufficed for a week's worth of food. Not only was he unsure about meeting this stranger, but he also started to consider the possibility that he might not want to use the money as the elves had said he would.

Soon enough, the sight of an old man in a wheelchair grabbed his attention. Five large dogs lazed at his immobile feet and the man seemed to be getting ready to leave, giving the wheels ample pushes.

"We're late!" complained Stinky, staring at the sky. "Judging by the position of the sun, it's been an hour ever since we were supposed to be here, to begin with. And because of this, both I and Hinky will have to show ourselves and help you, Tim-something. You just had to wait in line for forty-five minutes just to buy an ice cone, Hinky!" He frowned at the elf who was just licking his fingers happily. "You know I told him, Tim-something! I said to him, I said, Hinky, you gingerbread elf, you, I said! Why do you always have to go spoiling everything! We should finish what we started first, but does Hinky ever listen?"

Timothy shook his head silently, remembering Dinky and his barely noticeable presence who would have – most definitely – completed the discussion with "Hinky never listens!"

"It's your fault," answered Hinky demurely. "You go on with your ice cones, gingerbread elves, and lollipops! And chocolate puddings too!"

"Oh, shut up!" yelled Stinky furiously. "Disabled person! Hey, disabled person!"

The old man in the wheelchair turned around and stared with amazement, for what he saw were not two elves and a poorly clothed boy, but three boys of which two seemed not more than five years of age. And, far behind them, a fourth boy was running to catch up with the lot, skinny and tall, and with a pair of weirdly clapping big ears.

One of the dogs turned towards them defensively. Another barked at the running Dinky. And the third and largest one broke loose.

In less than a few seconds, its massive paws were on Dinky's chest and the elf panted and snivelled, staring desperately at the beast that he had frozen with a violent whirl of snow. The dog's open mouth had formed icicles of frozen saliva.

"Dinky! Oh, my jingling bell!" cried Hinky, heaving to pull his brother free. "Dinky! Talk to me! I'll give you a gingerbread cookie. Stinky! Give me a cookie to give to him!"

Timothy stared apologetically at the old man, and the latter looked like he was about to faint. The other dogs pulled angrily, and the wheelchair progressed slowly, in spite of its brakes.

When Hinky and Stinky had managed to pull Dinky at a safe distance, Timothy patted the frozen dog on the head. The other four beasts changed their menacing barks into whimpers and hid behind their owner.

"How do we thaw him?" asked Timothy anxiously, apologizing to the man for the tenth time. "I am so, very sorry! He didn't mean it. He was just scared. Sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

The old man made a sign that he should approach him. The dogs trembled and whined even more, and the boy was at least glad that nobody else had witnessed the freezing.

"First off," said the man in the wheelchair, "your friend is very rude. You just don't call somebody disabled 'disabled person!'. And secondly, I expect Snickers to be good to go in about five minutes, so kindly ask your flappy-eared friend to undo whatever magic he's done."

Timothy scratched his head. The man seemed to be taking the situation lightly, which was perfectly unnatural, taking into account Jena's first interaction with the elves, not to speak of Jack's.

"Dinky! Hinky! Stinky! Get the dog ready as soon as you can! Pretty please!"

"Hinky, Dinky and Stinky, eh? What unusual names for such little children with such amazing magical skills. Christmas elves?" inquired the man.

Timothy shook his head, though unconvincingly. After all, Dinky had really brought it unto himself and the trio. The man in a wheelchair, however, turned around again, urging his other four dogs to go.

"You can walk Flea, Fang, Fur, and Flo here. They're good dogs, these four. I will forgive your friends for freezing Snickers and calling after me in such a rude fashion. You, boy, are a good boy. Get them running around the lake if you're up to it. And I'll need you to do this every day around this same hour. I'm getting old, Timothy. I'm getting very old."

"Who – who are you? How did you know my name?"

"I am called Nick," answered the man. "And I will pay you in advance."