The Book of Monsters.

Eye of the Beholder.

"Beauty is in the eye and the heart of the beholder..."

He was hideous.

A collection of mismatched, sewn together skin. He was too tall, too skinny, too ugly to even look at. His eyes were large, one yellow and one green, and scary he had been told. He hid himself in the shadows like all of his kind did, covering himself beneath thick, tattered cloaks and masks that covered his monstrous face.

It was safer this way. Even if he hated it.

No one to scream at him, not torches or pitchforks, no stonings. He may be alone, living in darkest of places, but he was living and that was more then most of his kind could say. So it was enough.

At least...it was until he met you.

At first, he was content with simply watching you. You were so...lovely. You smelled sweet and you were so kind. He had noticed you as you took care of the strays in the alley behind your home. Instead of kicking them away or ignoring them like so many others did, you were gentle. You gave them food and water, even names.

He liked that. The naming.

He didn't have a name of his own and had often wondered what his ought to be. He wondered if you would name him...it was that thought that convinced him to stay. He just wanted to be close to you.

He liked you.

Everyday, he would watch over your little bookshop. Knowing a bit of magic, he cast a good fortune spell, hoping to bring a little business to your shop. It worked too, a fact that filled him with pride. Feeling confident, he cast another spell shortly after. A karma spell, punishing the people who were mean to you and your workers. Hearing your laugh when another rude customer got hit with a bought of karma was music to his ears!

He had meant to cast a third spell.

He had seen them, humans who crept in the darkness and stole.

Some did it because they had too (as he often did), others did it because they wanted to. They were of the second kind. He began to worry that they might break into your shop and rob you, maybe even hurt you, so he immediately began searching for a good protection spell.

But he found it too late. Just as he had carved the marking into your doorway, he heard it.

A loud clatter.

The sound of heavy boots on old floors.

A scream.

He ran, ran faster then he ever had from the mobs. He rushed into your shop from the broken backdoor, finding two men. One was shouting, trying to break the safe. And the bigger one was holding you, your limp body in his arms. They both froze when they saw him, staring in shock.

He knew exactly what they thought, it was what all humans thought. Ugly. Evil. Monster. The words hurt but this time he used them to his advantage. Rising to his full height, he glared at the men, his green and gold eyes glowing.

"Get. Out."

When he spoke, his voice was no more than a low whisper but it did the trick. They fled, rushing past him into the darkness. The second man had dropped you but he caught you, he couldn't just let you fall to the floor.

Looking around, he saw books all over and a couple of small shelves on the floor. The door would need replacing, he realized, among other things. Guilt racked his four hearts as he sighed sadly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should have cast my protection spell earlier...I should have stopped this."

"I don't blame you." A voice suddenly said.

He almost screamed at you sat up, looking right at him.

"I...I thought...I thought that...they had hurt you." He stammered.

"They tried," you said as you smiled, "so I just played possum. I was really surprised when they dropped me so thanks for catching me."

He could barely think right now let alone speak. Realizing that he was still holding you in his arms, he quickly let you go and tried to leave. But you stopped him, grabbing his arm gently and asking him to please wait.

"Those carvings, the spells, did you make them?" You asked.

He nodded, still to scared to say a word.

"Good fortune, karma, protection. You were trying to help me. Why?"

"Because...because you're nice. To the cats. To everyone. You're not like most humans." He whispered.

You said nothing for a moment, only looking at him. He wondered what you were thinking and what you were going to do. A part of him feared that you would yell at him, hurt him, and that he would be forced to flee.

But you didn't.

Instead you kissed his hand and thanked him for bring so kind. He was both baffled and enchanted, unable to do anything except for stare.

"What's your name?" You asked.

"I...I don't have one. We call ourselves Nobody or Nothing but I didn't like those names..."

"Hmm...can I call you Tolkien?"

Tolkien. The author. He nodded happily, saying his new name to himself quietly. Tolkien...

"Well, Tolkien," you said, "it's nice to officially meet you."

~

He stayed. For the first time in his long life, he stayed. Your basement was nice and cozy and, when the shop was closed, Tolkien would join you upstairs.

He had books and food and a warm place to sleep and a name of his very own but best of all...he had you.

For the first time, Tolkien was happy.