Santa Claus The Movie

by Joan D. Vinge

  Then, one long-ago long winter’s night, the eldest elf of all, their venerable Ancient One, had a vision. He foretold that there would come a human who loved children as much as the elves did—who would become the one who would deliver their gifts for them to all the world.

  They had been waiting—and preparing—for centuries for the day when the prophecy would come about. At last they had found, in Claus, its fulfillment. Claus felt his mind still reeling as he thought about it. His brain seemed to echo Dooley’s words over and over again, refusing to let them go.

  He heard his wife sigh and restlessly shift position beside him. “Anya?” he whispered.

  “Mmmm?” she said softly. Reaching for his hand beneath the covers, she gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “Me, too,” Claus said. “I can’t fall asleep, either.”

  “I don’t want to fall asleep,” Anya murmured, and he heard a smile in her voice. “This mattress is so comfortable I hate to miss a moment of it.” They had never even dreamed of having a goose-feather bed; they had always slept on a mattress of lumpy pine boughs.

  Claus sighed and rolled over again. Anya had the right idea: If you were going to have insomnia, at least you should enjoy it. But somehow all this miraculous good fortune simply frightened him. He had been chosen by the elves as their special messenger to the children of the world. Was he really up to such a responsibility and honor? And what about the people of his village? He supposed they would find a new woodcutter . . . He wondered curiously and a little sadly whether he and Anya would ever have reached home again through the storm. Somehow he thought he knew the answer.

  And then he thought of Donner and Blitzen. They had been transported here, too, but he had not seen them since they had all entered the compound. If he were going to deliver toys, he needed his reindeer and sleigh. He ought to find out what had become of them, and whether they were being well taken care of. His mind seized gratefully on the idea of doing something so basic and sensible. As he slipped out from under the covers, Anya made a small, questioning sound.

  “It won’t take long,” he murmured. “I’ll be right back.” He took a lantern from the wall, and lit it.

  Holding the lantern before him, he made his way tentatively down the spiral stairs, across the Great Hall, and on in the direction he remembered the elf taking when he had led away the two reindeer. Almost by instinct Claus chose a way through the maze of unfamiliar log-walled corridors, ducking his head as he passed through the low, narrow doorways. All the elves seemed to be soundly asleep, and he met no one in the quiet halls.

  At last he found the entrance to the stable. As he approached, he suddenly heard a familiar voice—the voice of the elf Patch—speaking softly and soothingly from somewhere inside.

  “Easy, boy. It’s all right, easy now . . .”

  As Claus entered the stable, he found an unfamiliar reindeer standing in a stall to his left, peering with great interest at something he could not see. More steps revealed more reindeer, also watching something intently.

  At last he saw what all the reindeer were looking at. The stable was a circular structure, with eight spacious stalls ringing its inner wall, facing center. There was a reindeer standing in each of the stalls, and at the front of each stall was a large wooden manger filled with hay, with each reindeer’s name carved prominently on its side. At the far side of the room, Claus saw someone’s sleeping quarters, instead of another stall, complete with a bed. The name PATCH was carved on the bed’s footboard.

  And in the stall nearest the bed, on the far side of the dimly lit circle, Donner stood, trembling with fright. Patch, dressed in a blue-and-white-striped nightshirt and cap, was standing beside him, offering him a hand to sniff, speaking gently and reassuringly all the while. “I know how you feel, boy,” Patch said with a smile. “Strange place. Strange companions. But we’re all friends here.” Carefully he stroked Donner’s quivering neck and scratched him behind an ear. “Look at old Blitzen, now—does he look worried?”

  Claus and Donner followed Patch’s glance, and saw Blitzen standing in the shadows beyond his friend, quite oblivious to the strangeness of it all, happily munching his way through a generous portion of feed. At the sound of his name he looked up briefly at Donner and Patch, then went back to his meal.

  “Why don’t you eat a little something, hmm?” Patch urged. “It’s great food, believe me. See, look, even I like it—Yummm!” He scooped up a handful of feed and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing gamely, like a worried father urging his infant to eat.

  Claus smiled, warming to this impulsive, unpredictable young elf, who clearly cared as much about his reindeer as he did. “He’s like me, I guess,” Claus said ruefully. “A little confused.”

  Startled, Patch spun around to face him. “Oh! I didn’t—”

  Claus walked slowly across the wide, creaking floor. “He’s always been a fidgety type.” The warm scent of animals, feed, and wood was homey and reassuring.

  “He’ll be just fine, sir, just as soon as he gets used to the place,” Patch said with the assurance of someone who knew and loved animals. “He just needs a little elf-control.” He grinned.

  Claus smiled and nodded in agreement, glancing around at the other reindeer admiringly. “You certainly seem to know reindeer. There are fine specimens.”

  Patch straightened up proudly. “Hear that, boys?” he said to the reindeer. “You’ve made a good impression on your new boss.”

  “Boss? Me?” Claus said, raising his eyebrows.

  Patch nodded. “Let me introduce you.” He moved to the first two stalls. The two reindeer standing beyond the carved feed boxes bore a remarkable resemblance to one another. And in fact, Claus realized, they even did everything together. They raised their heads in unison to look at Patch, turned back in unison to study Claus with dark, equally placid eyes. “Those two are twins,” Patch said unnecessarily. “Prancer and Dancer.”

  He moved on to the next two stalls, where two more reindeer stood side by side. Patch pointed them out, “That’s Comet,” as the object of his introduction casually scratched his antlers against a beam, “and the next one is Cupid.” Cupid, graceful and large-eyed, ducked his head shyly as if he were embarrassed by the attention.

  “That one is Dasher,” Patch said, moving on to the next stall. Dasher, a restless, sturdy-looking animal, raised his head eagerly, pricking up his ears. “He loves to run, he does,” Patch said with a grin. “He’d rather run than eat.”

  Claus chuckled. “Hear that, Blitzen?”

  Blitzen flicked his own ears unconcernedly, not bothering to look up from his food.

  The last of the reindeer to be introduced stood snorting and muttering impatiently, as if he felt he were the victim of an oversight. Patch shook a finger at him in good-humored admonition. “And this noisy one here is Vixen. Keeps me up half the night with his snorts and whinnies, whinnies and snorts.”

  “You sleep here?” Claus asked, both surprised and impressed that Patch should be so diligent in his care.

  Patch nodded, pointing toward the empty room. “Over there,” he said. “Where I do my other work, as well,” he added significantly. He might be just a stablehand to most of the elves around here, but he knew he was destined for better things. This was a perfect opportunity to make himself and his ideas known to their new boss, before the others could dismiss him as just a reindeer-keeper.

  “They keep you busy, eh?” Claus asked politely. He stared, while trying not to seem as if he were staring, at the remarkable jumble of projects that littered Patch’s quarters. A bright red storage cabinet and a mirror bedecked with wooden reindeer antlers dominated the decor of Patch’s small, hay-floored room; but draped over them both, and over every other available surface, were elaborate blueprints, half-finished toy mockups, and odd random pieces of wood and leather.

  “That’s the way I like it!” Patch cried enthusiastically. “Sometimes I get so many ideas I don’t know where to keep them in my head.” He t
urned away, rummaging through the mess on his worktable, searching for examples of some of his favorite projects, the ones that were sure to make the best impression. He held up a carefully sketched blueprint. “A clock that wakes you up in the morning, how about that?”

  “Not bad . . .” Claus nodded, studying the drawing; he was taken by the novelty of the concept, though he suspected privately that a rooster could do the job just as well.

  Patch jerked out another sketch and held it up. “A plate that whistles when the food is too hot!”

  Claus scratched his beard, peering at it. “I like the first one better,” he said frankly.

  Patch shrugged and smiled, undaunted. “One thing about me, I don’t lack elf-assurance,” he said, his grin widening. And he had a million more ideas where those came from. Some of them were bound to be winners. Now that his new boss had seen his potential, he was sure he’d finally have the chance to prove what he could do.

  Claus looked around him at the circle of reindeer again. “But what do I need all these reindeer for?” he asked. Donner and Blitzen had always been quite enough to draw his sleigh. He couldn’t imagine needing four, let alone eight.

  “You’ll see,” Patch said, with a small, secret smile.

  “Humph . . . well . . .” Claus bit his tongue, growing more than a little frustrated at all the coy hinting around. It was rather like being given a gift in January, and then being forced to wait until Christmas to open it. But he didn’t quite dare to demand an explanation. He was still too new and unsure about all of this—and still just a little bit afraid of hearing the answers. “This is a very curious kind of place,” he finished weakly.

  “Oh, this is nothing now.” Patch shrugged. “Wait till you see how it gets during Season’s Greetings.”

  “ ‘Season’s Greetings’?” Claus repeated. “What’s that?”

  “You’ll see.” Patch smiled again like the cat who’d swallowed the canary. Claus gave a snort of exasperation.

  But Patch was already turning away again. “Look, sir! Now he’s having a bite!”

  Claus followed his glance and saw Donner standing by the feed box, munching away at his moss and hay at last. Reassured by the presence of his master, he had finally begun to relax and eat.

  Claus smiled, more to himself than to Patch, and sighed. He was still the master of his own reindeer, at least, if not of his own life. He had done what he had come here to do—seen that his reindeer were in good hands. He realized that he really did not want to get any further into this mystery tonight, after all. He was suddenly exceedingly weary. Stifling a yawn, he nodded, bidding Patch and the reindeer a muffled “good night.”

  Leaving the stable, he started back through the halls toward his warm, waiting bed. It seemed to him this time that he could hear a faint, rhythmic sound echoing through the halls, almost as if the building itself were asleep and gently snoring.

  Claus climbed the steps to his new house and went back into the bedroom. He settled into bed beside Anya, who had already fallen asleep. This time his eyes closed willingly of their own accord, and stayed closed. Soon his peaceful snoring had joined the regular sighing rhythm of the sleeping elves. The enchanted compound and all its inhabitants lay peacefully at rest at last, beneath the endless, star-filled winter night.

  The time flew by for Claus and Anya as they settled into their new life at the North Pole. No one offered them more explanation about their curious new existence than they had already been given, but somehow as the days and weeks passed, that no longer seemed to matter. They quickly grew to love the comfort—and the bustle—of their new home, and the warm friendliness of the remarkable elves.

  The elves quickly took care of the changes and alterations Claus and Anya had requested in their new house. In no time they had painted its exterior and interior with bright colors, made comfortable cushions for the rocking chairs, quilted a warm felt rug, and hung up curtains. They carefully matched everything to the color of the comforters and tablecloth, all under Anya’s practiced supervision. They even provided the delighted couple with new clothes, in eye-stopping colors to match their own.

  Meanwhile, Claus grew more and more familiar with the elves’ workshops. They showed him their many skilled techniques for creating a seemingly endless supply of toys, all the while politely and earnestly asking him for any suggestions he might have to improve their workmanship and designs. He marveled at the elves’ dedication, at their creativity, at the pleasure they took in creating, and their love for all children, which truly rivaled his own.

  Claus also found himself gradually learning about more inexplicable activities, introduced by an insistent Dooley. He accepted the mysterious goings-on good-naturedly, telling himself, as Anya had done, that at least the elves seemed to know what he was doing, and that surely someday he would know, too.

  By far one of the oddest things he was asked to do was to learn to drive a sleigh. He had protested that he was quite proficient at it already, but Dooley had insisted that Claus had never driven a sleigh like this one. And when Claus had been confronted by the curious arrangement of chairs, pulleys, and reins that Dooley presented to him, he had had to agree.

  “This?” he said in disbelief, staring at the bizarre scene in Dooley’s private study. Set up for Claus to study was a chart of the reindeer he had been introduced to in the stable, their places in harness, and their names and distinguishing features. But small green rocking horses took the places of reindeer before the rigged sleigh, and a backdrop of the starry night sky substituted for the real world alongside it. It struck him as especially strange that there was no ground visible in the painting.

  “Only a mockup,” Dooley had assured him. “To simulate flight.” He watched Claus cautiously for a reaction.

  “Flight?” Claus echoed, his eyes widening in disbelief. “A flying sleigh?”

  Dooley nodded. “Drawn by eight reindeer. Obviously we can’t train you in the air on the real thing.”

  “Eight?” Claus repeated again. He shook his head. That explained the other reindeer in the stable . . . sort of. “Well . . .” he murmured dubiously. He sat down in the proffered chair, and took up the reins. After all he had seen here, even a flying sleigh would not really surprise him; but he thought to himself silently that he would believe it only when he saw it.

  In the hours that followed, he discovered to his dismay how very little he knew about driving a sleigh—at least, a flying sleigh drawn by eight reindeer. Driving in three dimensions, or even pretending to, was a subtle art and a dizzying challenge.

  “Don’t pull too hard or they’ll bank too sharply,” Dooley called out, standing to one side as Claus manipulated the mockup’s reins. “Just a tug.”

  Claus let up on the reins, drew them in more slowly. “Now I’m climbing?”

  “That’s it,” Dooley said, nodding, “but gently, gently. And always into the wind . . .”

  Claus closed his eyes and tried to imagine the wind in his beard. He sighed, and wiped his brow.

  While Claus began his unique flight training, Anya stood in the elves’ sewing room, studying their latest creation. They had wanted to make a fine outfit for Claus to wear on his mysterious gift-giving journey, one that would keep him warm and comfortable as he flew through the icy winter night. It was to be a surprise, their special gift to him, and they wanted it to be something that would please and perfectly suit him.

  Anya studied the dressmaker’s dummy, which had been altered to suit Claus’s considerable size and girth, and shook her head at the outfit draped upon it. “No . . . not really . . . no . . .” she murmured. She frowned uncertainly. She liked the design very much—the long, flowing fur-trimmed coat with pants and cap to match, and the wide black leather belt. But something was just not right . . . Her fists clenched in her apron pockets as she tried to decide what was missing.

  She looked back at Gooba, the elves’ chief tailor, and his assistants. Gooba was a neat, stylishly clad elf who wore a tasteful blue
ribbon woven into his beard; he stood by nervously, twirling his scissors on their own ribbon at his belt. “It’s nice,” she added hastily, as his face began to fall. “Please don’t think I’m criticizing, but . . . well, green’s just not his color.” She tapped a finger thoughtfully against her lips. “What about . . . ?”

  “What about brown?” Puffy said quickly, pushing forward, eager as always to say the right thing.

  Anya hesitated.

  “Red!” Patch cried, having invited himself along with her to the showing, as usual.

  Anya glanced up, her eyes sparkling with pleasure as she pictured the suit before her in a new color. “Yes!” she said, delighted. “Red! Perfect. Matches his cheeks and everything.”

  Puffy glanced at Patch with a slightly peevish frown, as Patch beamed proudly, having proved himself indispensible, as usual. Gooba nodded, and his assistants set to work immediately, dismantling the suit to recut it from new cloth.

  The weeks and months flew past in a timeless routine that the elves had followed for countless years, and which quickly became a comfortable rhythm for Claus and Anya as well. Weeks seemed scarcely longer than hours, so easily did they pass.

  But at last a sense of unspoken anticipation began to spread among the elves, like a whispered secret passing from ear to ear. Eventually on one crystal-clear evening, they all gathered together, crowding into the Great Hall in front of Dooley’s library, murmuring softly among themselves as they stared expectantly at the ceiling. Claus and Anya stood on their front porch, gazing down in curiosity at the scene below.

  Patch stopped looking upward as he began to develop a crick in his neck, and called impatiently, “Well?”

  Dooley stood alone in the center of his suite of rooms, which served as the information center, library, and astronomical observatory for the entire elfish community. In one of its rooms, filling the great bookcase which covered two walls and was designed to resemble a great book itself, were the numerous volumes of ancient and practical lore that the elves had collected over centuries.