Author’s Note: A short-story that explains how Father Christmas got back into Narnia. It elaborates on events concurrent with ‘The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. [Father Christmas – Santa Claus – is reimagined in a Viking style setting. Contains mild peril].
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“He comes – the brave old Christmas! His sturdy steps I hear,”
Many of us will remember Father Christmas in Mr Lewis’ fine chronicle “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.” Some of us may have scratched our heads, wondering what the merry old gentleman was doing in Narnia. I hope you’ll come to see that there’s no reason why he shouldn’t be there.
Although Narnia knows a great light, is there not darkness too? Father Christmas is not the light in the darkness but he does reflect that light. Think of him then as a mirror. Why, you ask, does he call himself Father Christmas when in Narnia? Well, does he not appear in various guises to different people in other cultures? That is a part of his magic. Echoes of him resound through many lands. Sometimes his magic and nature is even attributed to other, more local heroes. If Narnians are happy with the name ‘Father Christmas’ then who are we to gainsay them?
I hope you will agree with me that there is no reason to doubt Mr Lewis. Father Christmas does indeed visit Narnia.
In comes I, Father Christmas, Welcome or not, I hope Old Father Christmas, Will never be forgotten.
Picture the frozen ‘north-twixt-the-worlds’, at a time when the days shorten and the nights lengthen. Can you imagine a great Long-house of wooden boards, fifty metres in length? Snow lay all about it. Do you see it’s golden, thatched roof? It is a strange magical roof on which snow never settles. A few paces from the doors two huge torches burn in iron holders.
To its people, the hall was simply called “Sael”, for that was their name for such a thing. Inside, it was supported by two rows of wooden pillars, each decorated with pairs of huge reindeer antlers. Above each pair was engraved the name of a deceased, faithful beast.
On this particular night, there was a host of small people at the board. The aelfe (1) folk were particularly merry as there was ‘something in the air’ which stirred their blood. An old but beautiful woman sat on a throne overlooking the court. She was somehow ancient yet ageless (this is very hard to explain!) Her white hair was in two long plaits that reached down to her knees.
For those of you not familiar with aelfs, I had better tell you that they are small, magical beings. You may not have seen them because they are generally invisible in other worlds. On occasion one will let himself be seen; sometimes to provide a salutary lesson to someone who deserves it.
The aelf on duty heard the thunder of a staff on the door. He lifted the bar and swung the door open. A tall figure entered the Sael. He was well over six feet in height with a barrel chest and powerful arms. He was clad in a green mantle over a brown tunic with russet breeches. His long, white beard was tightly bound at the end with a leather thong. The chatter in the hall died down, expectantly.
“I have studied the skies, my faithful ‘aelfe-folc’. The time is nearly on us again. Can’t you sense it in the air? The nights grow long and soon it will be time for me to fly. Christmas is coming!” The last words were bellowed and there was a chorus of approval from the small people.
The man took the vacant throne and his wife filled his goblet. “You are as bad as ever; you cannot wait to leave me” she scolded.
He smiled and snatched her hand to kiss it chivalrously. “It is only one night, my sweet. See how excited are the ‘aelfe-folc’. I must decide who is to accompany me”.
“That is a lot of nonsense and you know it. Magically, it may only seem one night. You know full well that the ice will be breaking before you return. What is a woman that you forsake her?” With affectionate mockery she took an instrument and sang ‘The Harp Song Of The Dane Women”. (2)
Leaning back in his throne, her husband said “Beautiful. There’s nothing like the old songs, Mother.(3)”
“Come home safely, Father (3). Come home swiftly”. She sighed, “I suppose you will try to enter Narnia?”
“Of course, I must try. Even though a century will have gone by since I last got in. The land lies under a curse but somehow this year feels… significant. It’s as if I can feel change coming”. Father Christmas gave a profound nod.
Mistress Christmas rang her fingers over the harp-strings:
“My man will face the witch’s spite,
while I sit by the hearth.
Should I keen (4) or silently wait,
for one that might never return?”
To be fair, she was improvising and it sounds much more lyrical in its original language than it does in modern English.
“That Christmas day again may rise, and we enjoy our Christmas pies”
An aelf held the leaders’ bridles; not that it was really necessary. It was a very obedient and experienced team, used to working as a single unit. Father Christmas drove ‘eight-in-hand’ – meaning four pairs of Reindeers would pull his heavy sleigh. A large company of aelfs – those who weren’t going – stood around waiting to see their friends off.
The sleigh was large and had room for half a dozen companions plus a couple of full sacks. The bulk of the gifts weren’t stored in the sledge: they would be produced when required (for that was a part of the magic). The harness was strung with wide, jangling bells. There was a name painted gaily on the side (it read simply ‘sledde’).
The crew of six approached the sleigh. The chief aelf carried a wooden bowl full of cider. “Waes hael, Father”. (5)
Father Christmas carefully took the bowl and drank. “Drinc hael” (6) he said in reply. He passed the bowl back and the aelfs all drank solemnly in turn.
The aelf captain glanced up to the sky, looking for two particular stars, “Aethelwold and Aster (7) are about to kiss.”
Father Christmas put his arm around his wife’s waist and drew her in for a kiss too. “Farewell, my dear. I will be back when the night is over”. She rested for a few moments in her husband’s embrace.
“Aye; when the seas soften, for me!” she replied. “Fare you well, my darling”. Determined to put a brave face on it, she smiled and strode back into the ‘Sael’.
Christmas clapped his hands. He sniffed the air expectantly, like a dog that finds itself suddenly free. “Is there anything special this time?”
The head aelf, named Earpwald, gestured towards two bulging sacks stowed at the rear of the sled. “We have something very special. These are destined for Narnia”.
“Narnia! Aslan has spoken? This is a great day indeed”.
“Aye, Father,” Earpwald nodded. “Aslan has spoken. The Witch’s spell will be broken. There are gifts for the future kings and queens of Narnia. You will know them, when you see them”.
“Four gifts then? The thrones at Cair Paravel are to be filled at last.”
“Aslan says so – so must it be,” Earpwald replied.
Father Christmas banged his hands together in satisfaction. He tugged his thick, red robe tight and adjusted the broad leather belt. He never carried a sword but had a great staff that he could wield for protection. “Then let us board ‘sledde’ (8), my friends, and away to Narnia first!”
All safely aboard, Father Christmas took the reins and suddenly the sled was underway, sliding across the compacted snow. As the reindeers began to go at full pelt, the sledge began to lift. Soon they were flying through the night sky, singing as they went:
“Sing lads, sing, as we fly the gulls’ way,
Though the air is chill or wet,
Trying not to lose our way,
Or the bairns will surely fret!” (9)
Mistress Christmas sat in the nearly empty hall and felt utterly alone. A snatch of the song – carried on the wind and down the chimney – reached her ears. The aelfs outside stood and cheered as the sleigh disappeared into the night sky.
“Cast away the dreams of darkness, O ye children of the day”
The sleigh burst into the sky at the edge of the western waste, near to the Narnian boundary. “Good aim, Father,” Earpwald approved – and the other aelf-folc cheered.
“Not so rusty!” Father Christmas exclaimed, “Even after a year”. The rocky hills that formed the said border were on the leeside. He tacked onward and just reached them when an icy wind blasted him. He held his course. For the first time in a century, he was speeding over the border.
“Above and aft!” screamed Leofric, the observer in the stern of the sleigh. “It’s a hag!”
“Hag, above and aft!” went up the cry from the others. Father Christmas pulled at the reins and the reindeer swiftly began to turn in a half circle. An icy blast narrowly missed the rear of the sled. He drove straight at the hag. She was a small, crooked figure riding a broomstick. She screamed in frustration as she dived to avoid the oncoming threat.
Christmas deliberately nosedived; the sled hurtled down in pursuit of the Winter Hag. She was a creature now wholly controlled by the Witch Queen. The powers of the hag – and her weird sisters – had been harnessed to keep the land in a perpetual winter. Always winter and yet never Christmas, can you imagine?
“Curse you,” screeched the crone, using a wand to direct an icy, white jet up at the sledge. Father Christmas knew that he couldn’t be thwarted that year for Aslan had spoken. He veered sharply starboard and the spell flew past harmlessly.
With incomparable precision, Christmas turned his craft and dived once again. The Winter Hag lost her nerve and shot off westwards some hundreds of feet. Father Christmas levelled the sledge and turned towards Narnia. He was over the hills in a matter of moments and into Narnia proper. “We’re in,” he called triumphantly, “death to the witch!”
Coming up fast behind them was the Winter Hag. “She’s behind us!” Leofric warned.
“Take them,” Father Christmas said, passing the reins to Earpwald. “Hold her steady!” As the sled held a level course, Christmas rose in his seat and took his staff from the floor. Once again the hag tried to send a frosty blast at him but his magic staff parried the shot.
Their attacker spun her broomstick around and sped straight towards them. This time her shot surely could not miss? She was just three yards away when she fired an ice-white blaze from her wand, straight at Father Christmas. Coolly he tipped his staff forward; it connected with the jet that rebounded back at the hag. Her ugly face was momentarily frozen in horror. She went white as she then became literally frozen. For a second she seemed suspended in mid-air before her body fell to the ground.
“Narnia,” bellowed Father Christmas, “Christmas is upon you! ” With that he began to sing;
“Oh, he is a fine old fellow,
His heart’s in the truest place,
You may know that at once by the children,
Who glory to see his face.
For he never forgets the children,
They are all dear to him,
You’ll see that with wonderful presents,
His pockets are crammed to the brim”. (10)
The end
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Notes
- Middle-English for ‘elf’
- Actually written by Rudyard Kipling
- Until fairly recent times, married couples could still be found in England who referred to each other as “mother and father”
- Keen: to wail in grief about the dead
- “be thou hale” e.g. “be in good health”
- Meaning “drink and be healthy”
- For more information, see my short story “The star-bride Aster and Aethelwold”
- Middle-English meaning ‘sliding’ or ‘glider’
- “Or the children will surely worry”
- Poem by Mary Howitt, 1850.
I make no apology for mixing Viking culture with Anglo-Saxon names and Middle-English words; they all have the same northern-European background.