Father Christmas

by Charles Vess

  And that very hour he chose names for his daughters, one for each month of the year, and they were:

  January: Morningstar

  February: Alder

  March: Fern

  April: Joy

  May: Mayberry

  June: Apple (and her cheeks just as red as her namesake)

  July: Rosemary

  August: Lily

  September: Rowan

  October: Butternut

  November: Mistletoe

  and the oldest,

  December: Hollyberry

  They lived together with great happiness for nine years, and his twelve daughters laid claim to what room was left in his heart after his love for his true son, Jordy, and glad was he of them all.

  But a troll’s memory is long, and their bargains are never forgotten. And although a day may pass here where we humans live, it is but the blink of an eye to trollkind. So with the quick passing of those years, the queen mother of all trolls began to consider the bargain she had made with her daughter, and what she might do about it.

  Chapter Three

  Hush now, children. Hush. Listen carefully, or you will never know how young Nikolas became your beloved Father Christmas, will you?

  Now, then where was I? Oh yes …

  That very next night, in the absolute dark of a very dark evening, a booming crash thundered through Nikolas’ quiet household, followed quickly by many more. The stout oak front door shook loose from its hinges and fell to the floor with a great, heavy crash. With a whistling blast of icy wind, a huge, misshapen head, covered in long greasy hair, thrust its way through the opening. And the face that looked then at Nikolas was split with a huge, toothy, satisfied grin.

  The Troll Queen had come to visit her grandson.

  As she spoke, all the shutters flew from the windows in the room. “Hmmm, so you are Nikolas? What did my Nessa see in you, I wonder?” With no little effort, the Queen shifted her great body further into his front parlor. Her knees banged against the ceiling, and her broad, broad shoulders thrust against either wall, threatening to burst them apart. “Your wife and I had a bargain. I kept my part of it, and now I’ve come this night for what is rightfully mine.”

  Before Nikolas could answer, fear began to wrap itself around his stout heart. “Queen, I say to you now, nothing of mine will ever be yours.”

  “Hmmm. But it was agreed between my daughter and me. Nessa gave me her word that, on her death, the boy Jordy would come to live among his true family.”

  Pulling himself up straight and tall, flushed with all of his considerable strength, Nikolas spoke. “You must pass through me first then, monster!”

  “Hmmm, indeed. Let me get a better look at you, then.” But, just as it was with his bride, the magic of that house, though very great indeed, could not accommodate the Queen’s massive body. Craning her neck to look more closely at young Nikolas, her shoulders splintered two great beams that held the cottage’s ceiling aloft, showering thatch down upon them both. “Yes, you have grown since I last saw you. Hmmm. But come, you must know that living here, by yourselves in these great woods, the boy would be lonely—would he not? I promise you that your Jordy will be a Prince in the Kingdom of Trolls and that his life in my court will be filled with laughter.”

  Before Nikolas could reply, twelve young girls peeked from behind an inner door, and laughed and stared wide-eyed at the giant troll crouching in their well-kept parlor. Morningstar, the youngest, held little Jordy in her arms. When the Queen shifted her head to consider these unexpected intruders, she shattered two chairs and a table and all the fine china plates that the table had held. “Now who might these children be, then? Hmmm.”

  Nikolas, his arms spread wide, gathered his daughters to his side. “As you say, a growing boy needs a sister to take care of him. My son has twelve.”

  The Queen snorted in surprise, sending the delicate lace curtains laid across each window flying across the room. “Hmmm. Well, then we have much to discuss, do we not? But I fear that your poor home will be the worse for it if I stay here a moment longer. Hmmm, bring your son and his devoted sisters outside, where there is room enough for me to breathe, and we will talk more of this bargain.”

  Outside, the night was very dark indeed, and snow fell thick and fast. Hard against the great rock that protected the cottage was the Queen’s enormous sleigh, already filled with snow. Not even brushing it aside, she settled onto the plush seat of her curious carriage (for it had no visible means to propel it), with her back braced against the great hard rock. The Troll Queen looked down then at her grandson as he played in Nikolas’ broad lap and smiled at her twelve granddaughters before she asked, “Now then, where did these charming young ladies come from?”

  After he had named them all, Nikolas smiled proudly at his daughters and said only, “They were a gift from my wife to her son and myself, and they have filled our life here with joy and laughter since she left us.”

  But when the Queen noticed that each of Nikolas’ daughters wore a certain stone strung round her neck, she began to understand more than she had been told. For every troll born knows the power of those particular stones, and the Queen knew more than most.

  So, slyly, she wrinkled her nose and asked that he return to his cottage. “I smell a wedge of fine cheese that waits in your kitchen, do I not? And Nikolas, the cold of this night makes my empty belly groan so for something to fill it.” Wishing to appease the huge troll Queen, Nikolas gave Jordy into the care of his oldest daughter, Hollyberry, and went to do as he had been bidden. With a heart filled only with gladness and cheer, he would not have thought that others could—or even would—take advantage of him for it.

  But when Nikolas returned, balancing a platter piled high with cheese and bread, he saw the sleigh that had brought the Queen of Trolls with it, rising slowly into the snowy night. The Queen mother of trolls called back down to him, “Stupid man, a trusting heart is a weakness that can always be taken advantage of.” With one great arm, the Queen cradled the screaming boy and in the other she clutched twelve leather strings from which dangled twelve curious stones. And strewn across the snowy ground at Nikolas’ feet were his daughters, turned now to wood once more.

  As the sleigh hovered above him, just out of reach, the Queen laughed down at Nikolas, “Hmmm, my grandson is too precious for wooden companions such as those.”

  Suddenly, Jordy, tucked under her arm, lunged forward, and he bit deeply into one of the huge troll’s thick, hairy fingers. The Queen screamed then, such a scream that sent the snow swirling far to either side of her sleigh. And with that scream, one precious stone tumbled loose from her grip, and fell down and down, end over end, to land on the breast of one single wooden carving beneath her. Morningstar blinked once and sat up. Her father caught her safely up in his strong arms, and they both turned their faces back up to the sky.

  But already the Troll Queen and her sleigh had disappeared into the swirling, snow-filled sky.

  Chapter Four

  Devastated by their loss, Nikolas and his daughter looked at one another for a moment and then, without words, for no words were needed, busied themselves with preparations for a long journey through swirling snow and dark forest to rescue what had been taken from them.

  Morningstar lovingly gathered her eleven wooden sisters out of the snow where they had fallen and gently packed them between straw and moss in a cloth satchel that she swung from her shoulder.

  Nikolas quickly fashioned rough wooden skis for them both, so that no matter the depth of the snow and ice under their feet they would be able to glide over it. But even so, the midwinter’s night through which they traveled was long and dark indeed. The snow fell and fell and fell, until it became so deep that the grass that carpeted the forest floor beneath it seemed but a distant memory.

  To light their way in that utter darkness, Morningstar, true to the name she had been given by her father, illuminated the dense forest of towering trees so that they were able t
o begin before first light and continue on even as darkness again swiftly followed. For it was midwinter in the Northland, and as you children well know, the days then are done almost before they begin.

  At last another long night gradually gave way to a bleaker morning. The blizzard finally ceased and now, around them, they saw only black, snow-etched bowls of towering pine and spruce and cedar that marched endlessly away in every direction.

  Nowhere was there a landmark that was familiar to Nikolas. All was covered deep and deep with winter snow. No outcrop of stone or lightning-burned tree to mark their path. There was nothing to show him the path that they need take, for his Nessa had carried him many long leagues from the Kingdom of Trolls, and the land where humans lived was further even still.

  I can tell you now, that endless forest weighed at their hearts and wore away at whatever hope remained in their hearts. But then, far and far away, so far that it seemed but a pleasant dream they both shared, Nikolas and his daughter Morningstar saw a faint pink light the sky before them, and both then breathed a little easier and their strength was restored.

  Deep then within that dim forest they began to hear the howling of many wolves, followed by the bellow of a great elk or a stag, and Nikolas turned to his daughter and said, “Though our need is great, the stag’s need is greater still.”

  Morningstar, out of the goodness of her pure heart, smiled at her father and said, “Then let us do what we must.”

  Carefully they crept through those trees and the fighting bellow of that great stag came ever closer and closer, and with it also came the savage cries of a multitude of wolves. Then, just before them, they beheld the elk, for elk it was, its hot breath steaming into the frosty air, surrounded by wolves beyond counting.

  Without hesitation Nikolas charged among them and swung his great double-sided axe with both his hands. The snarling wolves bounded away then from their prey. But only for a moment, for their hunger gave them fell purpose. They turned as one and leaped upon Nikolas’ great form, tearing at his clothes and at his flesh. The great elk lunged amongst them then and impaled one, two, three, and a fourth beast with its long antlers. Soon, blood began to stain the snow at their feet and at the stag’s hooves.

  But clever Morningstar, knowing that sometimes even great strength guided by a valiant heart cannot overcome all that there is to overcome, walked softly among them and stood in the midst of those heaving bodies that churned the bloody snow, and she smiled.

  Far above her, through the dense boughs of the great trees, she saw the first star of evening glow softly in the darkening sky. And she raised her arms in supplication toward it.

  Her namesake must have smiled down upon the small figure below it, for the great star seemed to lend her strength and purpose with its light. For then Morningstar’s soft glow became a brilliant, searing light that etched the forest around them and the trampled snow and the great stag and the valiant man who still struggled in the midst of a swirling mass of fur and claw and teeth. That harsh white light shone forth from her brow and served to drive those beasts away, sending them howling back into the depths of that cruel forest.

  The elk spoke to them then: “Friends, I thank you for your service to me. I fear I would have been the worse for it if you had not come to my aid.”

  Morningstar spoke for both her father and herself. “Sir, what would we be if we did not help those in need? It would not be fitting if we were like unto those simple beasts that even now fled, with only hunger in our thoughts and blood on our hands.”

  With great dignity, then, the great elk bowed its head toward them both and gave his thanks. Then it spoke once again. “What has brought you so far from any of your kind? What seek you here, so deep in my forest?”

  Nikolas looked kindly at the elk and began to explain their urgent task.

  As it listened to the tale, the elk lowered its great antlers into the snow by their side and cleansed the blood from off them. Then, raising its head once more, it looked at them both, and large and sorrowful were its eyes. “My heart is saddened that Princess Nessa no longer walks amongst us. Unlike so many of her kin, she was always wont to show kindness to all who came to her. In her memory and in gratitude for the kindness you have done me, I would do what I can for you.

  “But alas, I do not know where those of trollkind live. But perhaps her friend the Snow Owl would know of this place that you seek?”

  And Nikolas answered his new friend, “Then I must ask that creature my question. In what land does it live? And by what path can I arrive there?”

  “It is far and far from here, but I will take you, if there you must go.”

  “I must.” Then Nikolas looked at his daughter’s hopeful face and spoke again. “If the Snow Owl knows the answer to this riddle, then we will seek it out, no matter the length of our journey.”

  The elk stood then before those two, its head and twisting antlers towering above even Nikolas’ great height. “Come, my back is strong enough for both. Sit upon me and I will take you to the land that the Snow Owl calls home.”

  For a day and a night and then another day the great elk ran tirelessly across the deep snow-filled forest, bounding effortlessly over ice-covered streams, until the trees around them grew so close together that they choked out the sky. It was then that they knew they had reached the land that they sought. And it was as they began to pass through the dark of that dense wood that the elk at last opened its heart to Nikolas and his daughter and told them its sad tale.

  Once the great elk had been a Prince in a land of humans, but that was long ago, so long that his kingdom had surely been swept away by time. An enchantment had transformed him into the beast that they now rode upon. “So long has it been, that I’ve forgotten even my true name or whose curse rendered me into this very form.” Hearing the beast’s tale, both their hearts were greatly troubled.

  Soon thereafter, they came upon a small open glade untouched by winter, filled with the fragrance of fresh wildflowers and sweet grasses. In the center of that glade rose a great tree with pure white bark, hoary with age but still living and still thriving. Upon every limb of that tree perched a hundred snow-white owls, and each looked at their three uninvited guests and blinked but once by way of greeting.

  As one, they raised their voices and filled the small glade with their calls, making the very ground under the elk’s hooves shudder.

  And before them, the tree awoke and trembled and each of those owls became a feather on the wing and the body and the tail of a single, enormous white owl that silently looked down upon the small figures below it. The eyes of Nikolas and Morningstar then grew wide with amazement and with wonder, but the elk merely smiled a greeting to the great owl.

  The Owl King too was saddened when it was told of Nessa’s passing, of the abduction of Nikolas’ son, and of the fate of his eleven daughters. Then, because of the deep and abiding friendship between The Troll King’s daughter and the great Owl, it too promised to do what it could to help Nikolas and his daughter Morningstar.

  Soon, seated astride the back of the Snow Owl, Morningstar looked down upon the stag that had brought them so far and a single tear fell from her eye. “You will always have a place in my heart, prince without a name.”

  The great stag bellowed then into the frosty air. “Go now. I will follow as I may, for I am your companion now and forever.”

  And so the King of All Owls flew with its two riders on its back, along secret paths through the high snow-filled clouds, over razor-sharp mountains that thrust up out of the earth, and over twisting black rivers and forests so thick that none could have found their way through unharmed. Finally, they arrived at the cave entrance that leads—for anyone so foolish as to enter it—down, down, down to the Kingdom of the Trolls.

  Eager to be about their purpose, Nikolas and Morningstar climbed from the owl’s back and entered that cave, but all they found there was emptiness—cold, lifeless, and dark. But when Nikolas set his ear to the floor of the
enormous cavern, he heard deep below, through a vastness of stone and rock, a faint melody that a troll might play upon a fiddle, and he knew that somewhere far beneath their feet lay the palace of the King and Queen of Trolls, where his son was held captive. Knowing that they must find a way through the rock of that mountain if ever they were to find Jordy, his heart despaired.

  Chapter Five

  Then, when hope was at its bleakest, Nikolas felt a faint warm breeze stir in the dank cold of that immense, dark cavern. He took Morningstar’s hand and followed that breath of air to an opening in the rock that lined the chamber. There they saw an arch of great, empty darkness rearing over their heads, and the air within it was blacker even than the dense shadows that kept it company on either side.

  They stepped then into it that emptiness and descended by a thousand times a thousand steps, every one of them carved from the solid rock of the mountain. Down and down and down they went, past underground streams that illuminated the darkness with their faint luminescence and under thundering waterfalls and through limitless caverns, each vaster than the one before it, until they stood hard against yet another arched stone doorway.

  And there they peered carefully through it and saw before them the court of the King and Queen of the Trolls, lit by as many reeking torches as were needed to light that vast space. Each torch was mounted on the side of a single column of stone that soared up to the vaulted ceiling far and far above. In the midst of that immense room were two thrones set atop a series of circular steps that towered above all else, save those columns. Indeed, everything in that court was roughly fashioned from a single piece of the stone of the mountain itself, and no part was separate from the other.

  Upon those two high thrones sat the King and the Queen of Trolls. Below them there danced a multitude of creatures who named them their Lord and Lady. In the Queen’s own broad lap played young Jordy, and around him there were gathered eleven hideous troll maidens waiting on the boy’s every whim and bidding, because through some arcane troll magic, Nikolas’ son took those eleven creatures for his true sisters and laughed and smiled with them.