My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

An eternity after I stumbled myself into the world's most taxing alternative to Tinder, the game, and the event, was finally over.

They cut the music, they tinkled the bell, and Felicia seated right across, batted her long, thick eyelashes lasciviously for the last time. Chester gave her a small parting smile before he rose to his feet, and the creamy brown of her cheeks flushed faintly to an adorable pink.

"Gentleman, gentleman!" the elf-lady's voice filled the blended ambiance of trepidation in the air. "The time for debauchery and sleaziness is over! To your places! C'mon, sort yourself into order! Game's over! Good job, everybody! Now, just kindly give me and the judges' a couple of minutes to tally up your points before we announce your scores, in the meantime… try not to let your heads swell too big now, alright?"

Contrary to her blind claims, most of us numbered lovers looked more humbled than anything, a gloomy shamble instead of a flamboyant strut one by one returning back in line.

I wasn't faring much better myself, I know I did my absolute best, but looking back now, I probably made some slight hiccups here or there, flubbed a line maybe, or did something cringe which at the time I thought would be cool, just the small little things that could make or break a point scored.

"So," chest puffed with pride, and the usual confidence glimmering in his eyes, Leon strode up beside me. "That was quite fun, huh?"

Had no opinion. A half-hearted shrug was all he was getting and receiving.

"How do you think you did?" I asked, curious.

He shrugged back. "I'm really not sure. A six? seven? Honestly, I'm not very good at flirting and all that kind of stuff."

A blatant, dirty lie such as that on Christmas day? Welp, someone's going on the naughty list.

"Forget me, though," Leon said, the closer half of his gaze just simply gushing with that same competitive spirit. "How about you?"

Fortunately in my case though, I wouldn't be spouting much of a lie.

"Probably not as good as I'd hope."

"Liar," he chided. "Don't think I didn't see the judges' smiling and laughing every time I turned to look at you."

"You saw what you say," I shrugged again. "Who knows? Maybe they were actually laughing at me."

"Nah, no," To that, still confident, still adamant, Leon just shook his head. "The way you were acting, talking? Definitely with you."

We joined the others, taking our designated spot leaning against the gray canvas wall. For the longest minute, we were left standing with our thumbs twiddling and uneasy about worth as loving men.

After what seemed like a moment wedged between eternity and no time at all, the judges dispersed from a collective circle, breaking out and returning to their tables, then, striding forth bearing a single slip of paper and an impish smile, the elf-attendant raised her voice.

"Well, well, seems looks aren't everything, after all! And before you go wondering, yes, for some of you I mean that for the better. And as for the rest of you lot…" She trailed off, her smirk obscured behind a thin white page. "Let's get started with the scores then, shall we?"

The results came pouring in through fevor and fanfare announced in ascending order. One started strong with a hopeful nine, but then Two dashed our hopes back with a measly three. Three had a five. Four swung his best charming six. Five busted with an even lower two. Then Six, having scored the lowest in the first round, somehow managed a comeback of the day with a solid ten. The highest yet.

You wouldn't think it looking at him. Looks really aren't everything, huh?

"Number Seven!" The elf quickly spun toward me, her white locks soaring and momentarily obscuring a devilish smile. I held my breath, here we go. "Blowing away the entire competition with a staggering eleven points!"

It was like I heard her and didn't hear her all at the same time. Seven, five, two, heck, even one. So many numbers blaring and swimming around my head, it's no wonder I almost didn't believe her, but even then though…

Did I seriously just get an eleven?

"Well done, well done!" The elf applauded, and amidst a long, narrow row of envious stares, I spotted Leon spotting his own expression of congratulations. "But it's not over yet! Moving on…"

I was in too much of a blur to hear the rest of the grades, feeling the oddest feeling of satisfaction, flattery mixing with the slightest splotch of pride, but I did manage to hang around long enough to the present to hear number ten's ranking among the placements.

"Of course…" I blew a sigh, hearing loud and clear the elf's explosive reveal through her widest smile yet.

Fourteen points out of fifteen. He did it again. Pretty much solidifying his spot in the first place no matter what. Then again, was I actually expecting anything else different to happen? This small deflating feeling inside me. I suppose a part of me kinda did hope to beat him.

But alas, it seems Chester the Suave was no match for the man Leon himself.

Not yet anyway…

Finally, the results ceremony came to a close, with number Fifteen concluding us to a rather anticlimactic three points.

Still, at the end of the day, we were still only just playing a game, and as such, we all treated as so. No harbored ill-will nor grudges, everybody clapped and cheered for each other for a game well played.

"So, to cap things off, in third place, we have number six! And at a close second, number seven! And finally in an uncontested first place, number ten! Goob job, everyone!" The elf chimed in for the final time, her lively voice finally worn way past its use. "But I'm afraid this is where I have to say where our time must come to an end. You're all free to go and wait for your respective partners outside. Well, my fellow Romeos, until the next game!"

As everyone began to flood the entrance, I lingered in place for a time, just waiting, watching, as steadily the crowd grew thinned away. The contestants were the first ones gone, all except for one though… slowly approaching me in all his charm and fluttering golden locks.

"Eleven out of fifteen," He chuckled, as if having expected no less of me. "You see? I really do have to watch my step around you."

"And clearly you did," I said. "Fourteen out of fifteen. So much for sucking at flirting, I guess."

"Well, I try."

Try you did, Leon. Try, indeed.

"Well, anyway," once again, his hand fell onto my shoulder, leaning with a gaze, an expression that showed that this was far from over. "I'll see you in the next game."

And with that, he turned and departed, leaving me to my lonesome, as I stood there, continuing to simply wait, simply watch. Gradually, the remaining people within the tent dwindled down to five, then to four, with a parting wave from the elf herself, four became three, and seeing that, I finally decided to made my move.

Forward again, weaving the gaps between tables, until I reached that spot the furthest in the back, and there, I took my place, sitting across from her once more, across from Hayley.

The vigorous scribbling of her pen made a pause, and slightly, she flicked her attention upward, saw me, and formed that same, puckish smirk of hers.

"Eleven out of fifteen. Seems you really can be a heartthrob of a hunk when you try," She muttered, the pen in her hand beginning to move again. "Suppose I better tell Amanda to be wary of having girls around you too much."

I mustered only a grunt. Back and forth banter wasn't what I approached her again for. No, I was here for something else, something I promised, and made absolutely sure to keep with me at all times… just in case.

Thank God for foresight.

"I got a present for you," I said slowly, reaching into the left pocket of my jacket, placing the small bowtied box I was handed all those days ago in the middle of the empty table. "It's from someone, uh… someone special."

Here it was, and here she was. A gift finally delivered… here and now I finished playing my part as the mailman.

"Someone special, right…" She didn't bother to look up just yet, only smirking, only giggling. "Really a bad look to be giving gifts to other girls that aren't yours, you know?"

"It's not from me."

"Sure, it isn't," She said, continuing to take it all in a fun, casual stride.

"It's from your father," I admitted, throwing every and all caution to the wind, peering closely at her reaction. "He… he came to me one day. He told me—uh, he asked me if I could deliver you his present for him, since he's apparently unable to do it himself or something like that."

Even as he elaborated, I could see her actively responding to every word. The sudden stop of her pen, the sudden rigidness in her expression, the sudden silence overtaking her. All very sudden. Just like this situation.

"My father, you said…" She spoke up, her tone suddenly turning overtly nonchalant. "When was this? What day did he see you?"

"A day after he visited the cafe, I think," I answered, pretending not to notice anything amiss. "Not sure why he didn't just give it to you then, honestly."

"Because I'd have tossed it into the bin in front of his face," Hayley glanced up, throwing the small present a look of complete disdain. "I suppose he didn't want to see that for himself. Save himself the pain, the disappointment. The coward."

This was new, staggering… seeing her… like this. I already knew she hated anything and everything to do with Harry, and I was very well aware what to expect once I accepted to play courier to this gift for her. But knowing just wasn't the same as seeing…

And all I could see, indeed… was only hate.

"Now's he got you doing his dirty work for him instead, and here I thought, he couldn't possibly stoop any lower," She heaved in, and loud and clear, I heard her breath tremble. "Can't help himself. Always finding loopholes. Always wiggling for a way out. He hasn't changed one bit. That man… that asshole…"

"Hayley, listen…" I began, having no idea what the next word would come out of my lips even was. "Your father, he…"

"Don't get involved in this. Please, don't get involved," She implored me, her brows arched, and her eyes pleading. "I'm sorry he's dragged you into this, but really, you don't need to do anything. Leave this alone, forget this. Do this for me, as a friend, please."

Hayley didn't bother to stick around to hear my response. Before I could even fully wrap my head around this raging whirlwind of emotions, away she went from it all, taking both pen and clipboard as she hastily got up from the table, marching off, her gift remaining still untouched.

"Wait, Hayley, wait! Hold up," I called out after her, and she nearly stumbled coming to a stop, stagnant in place, her head practically bowed to the ground. 'What… what about this present, then?"

"It's not a present," She whispered harshly. "All that is… is an apology. And one that shouldn't have to be made. I won't accept it. I'll never accept it. If he comes to you again, you tell him that."

There was nothing I could say to her, nothing that I could think of anyway to somehow remedy this situation. If not for the lack of forgiveness, then certainly for the lack of believing… because the things I knew, the things I have to say… knowing and seeing for myself the extent Harry had suffered through… there was no way for her to believe me without having seen it all for herself.

And even then… with this much festered hatred… I'm not sure if she'd even forgive him then.

Not that she should have too. I know that.

So I kept quiet, I let her walk away.

"Can't just leave that here though," I muttered aloud, unsure if she even heard, staring down at the bright red ribbon wrapped around the box and wondering briefly if he had tied it himself.  "What do I do with it?"

But turns out, she did hear me.

"Do what I would have done," I heard her say, and in the corner of my gaze, I saw her slender silhouette inked black by the light of the entrance. "There's a bin in the corner there. I'll leave you with the honors."