Father Christmas (2 page)

During the day, as his bride slept safely under the ground, Nikolas built for himself a small birch-bark hut topped by bowers of spruce and carpeted with moss, and slept there through each long summer day. His only thought was to bide there, waiting for the fall of night so that he and his bride could be together once more.

And in that way they lived by themselves and were happy for many, many years.

Every night that Nikolas and his bride spent together in their meadow was made sweet with the fragrance of pine and cedar and of spruce, and Nessa filled their table with all manner of food, gathered from the forest as only a troll knows how to find. And secretly, because she loved him very much, with each meal she plied Nikolas' drink with a certain potion made with ancient troll magic and a wisp of moonlight. So, each new day, he awoke taller and stronger and broader than any human who ever lived here in the North.

In time, a son was born to them. The boy was as smiling and as pleasant as both his parents. To protect the child, his proud father began to enlarge the small hut, and had soon fashioned another room from the boughs of the trees that surrounded them and carpeted it with thick, green moss. Nikolas' only sadness then was that no matter how much wood he cut and split and carved, or how cleverly he bent and shaped that wood, his home could never shelter his troll wife from the sun's awful purpose.

Nessa chose to name their son Jump at the Sun, but Nikolas liked to call him Jordy. Nurtured by his parents' love, the boy grew quickly, and soon a jumble of curling black hair fell down across his small shoulders, and his tiny arms hardened with muscle.

Jordy loved both his parents and his life in the greenwood with them. But sometimes, when they slept, he sat by himself in the grass by the stream, blowing sharp sounds from between long blades of grass caught up in his hands, and he grew lonely.

Then came a day when his father slept longer than was his wont. Restless, the boy followed a beautiful bird that called to him with a sweet, sweet song far into the forest. When at last he stumbled to a stop in a small meadow thick with wildflowers, Jordy looked about him and knew that he was lost. Of the bird that had led him hither there was no sign; neither did its brightening notes linger gracefully in the air.

*****

Later, when Nikolas awoke, he could not find his son. He spent all the hours of that long summer's day frantically searching for the boy, but without success. Come the night, though, when his wife arose, she immediately suspected what had come to pass.

Nessa smiled grimly then to her husband and spoke: “You must stay here, for where I go now is forbidden to any that are human.” No matter how difficult the thought of doing nothing was to him, Nikolas, being a wise man, could only accept the truth in his wife's words.

*****

Soon, in a vast cavern, so far underground that the light from our sun had never been known there, Nessa found, as she had expected she would, her son, sleeping peacefully in the lap of her own mother, the Queen. A dozen armored trolls, huge creatures with their bows drawn and at the ready, guarded their Queen and the small boy in her lap.

“Hmmmm. Daughter, did you think you would hide from me forever? I will not even speak of this husband of yours, for he is a human and therefore of no consequence to me. But your child here will be a Prince of our kingdom and should be raised at its court where he rightfully belongs.”

“Never.”

“Hmmmm. So you say.”

Nessa had not come there to wage war on her own kind, though, but to plead for the return of her son, Jordy. In that darkness we will never know how long she begged and pleaded and cried, but in the fullness of time her tears began to fill that vast cavern. And standing there in that great and overwhelming pool her mother, the Queen of Trolls, gave in to her daughter's wishes at last.

“Hmmmm. Very well then.” And extending her thick, hairy arms across the pool made from all the tears that Nessa had shed, the queen mother of Trolls gave Jordy back to Nessa. “But know this, daughter: as long as you live, the child may stay with you and his father. But when you have passed, the boy will then come to live with me. For what does a man know of raising a child?”

Now, the princess knew that trolls live for a very long time indeed, and so was well satisfied with her bargain. She took Jordy then and ran back through the darkness of stone and earth to the surface of our world, and there continued to stride on her great legs straight back through the limitless forest back to her home in the forest glade.

But night began to fade to light then, and just as she had reached the pleasant meadow that Nikolas and she had shared for so long, the sun began to rise.

As its light spilled over the forest beyond and the glade around her, she handed the boy to Nikolas and, unable to find shelter, Nessa was transformed then into an immense mountain of stone. And children, I tell you now, there she lies to this very day, a craggy mountain ridge that circles, protectively, around the home of Nikolas and their son.

Ha! I see your looks of disbelief. You've but to look out the window there and you will see that mountain for yourself. Yes, that very one, with the three fine spruce trees topping it.

Even so, let me continue …

Weeping at his loss, Nikolas cradled the boy in his arms. Later, when his tears had at last ceased to flow and his eyes had cleared, he saw that around Jordy's neck was a soft leather bag. In it he found twelve tiny pebbles, worn smooth by time, each cut by delicate marks of red and green and blue. Unknown to Nikolas, these stones were infused with the strongest of all troll magic.

But when Jordy finally woke and found his mother gone, he became desolate and began to cry and wail, never ceasing through night and day, day after day. And try as he might, Nikolas could find no means to comfort his son. So in his misery he laid the boy in his cradle, thick with sweet grasses, and, sitting by its side, picked up a fallen branch and began to carve upon it.

Day and night he carved. For nine months and a day. Without food or sleep. And as the wood shavings piled around him on the floor, figures began to appear out of the rough wood logs that he held in his hand. Crude at the first, each gained refinement with every new figure that he completed. Till at the last there were twelve small wooden figures with flowing gowns and smiling faces, gathered round about the still-wailing infant. Looking then at his wooden sisters, Jordy's sorrow eased and for the first time since his mother's death he grew silent and a slow smile of happiness spread across his small face.

Looking down at his son, now happily clutching the wooden figures, Nikolas reached into the leather pouch that still hung round the boy's neck and pulled from it the twelve pebbles that were within it, one each for Jordy's sisters, made from wood. And he hung them then, one by one, around the shoulders of the carved figures.

The silence that settled then over Nikolas' home was pleasant indeed. And with its coming both he and his son fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. Hours or days or weeks later, they were awakened by the sound of merry laughter and the tread of light feet all around them both. When he looked up, Nikolas saw that the twelve carved figures were now twelve young maidens made of flesh and blood.

Bewildered, he asked, “How can this be?”

The tallest of his daughters gave him a warm smile, “ Why, Father, you wrought us from the oak and the ash and the thorn, and after, our mother's magic brought us to life.”

“But you are so many. Where will you stay? My house is small and very humble.”

His daughters laughed then as one and gestured around them.

The house had become so infused with cunning troll magic that it had shaped itself anew while Nikolas and his son slept. Where once there had been but two rooms, now there were bedrooms for all who lived there under its roof. There were also warm hallways and sewing rooms and a lovely work space for Nikolas himself. And, best of all, there was a long kitchen table in the middle of a cozy kitchen, big enough for them all to sit and eat.

In time, they discovered that their home grew or shrank according to their every need, adding or subtracting rooms and hallways, doors and storage closets, windows and beds as their usefulness came and went. In that manner there was never more to clean up or put away than was ever absolutely necessary.

Delighted with his new home and his twelve beautiful daughters who looked back at him with such love, and also, then, with his happy, laughing son, Nikolas threw off the grief that had settled over him for so long.

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

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.

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.