The Elves and the Shoemaker

“Look, mack, I don’t make the rules.”

“Please,” begged the well-dressed man. “We’re spread too thin. We have to keep up production…”

“Local 47,” said the elf. He stood – the executive averted his eyes – and jerked a gnarled thumb at the door. “You wanna renegotiate terms, take it up with the bosses…”

The executive shuddered.

“…but if you want quality footwear, you’re gonna have to fork it over. A full set of clothes each, made to spec.”

“Do you know what those shirts cost?”

“I hear the princess what sews ‘em jacked up the price.” The elf grinned. “Smart girl.”