Each day we advanced our efforts and added to the variety of toys we produced.
There were many types of dolls and puppets suspended from strings, which were moved by wooden control arms to which the strings were attached. There were games of chess and checkers whose pieces were placed upon colorful boards made up of wood tiles cut from many different trees, revealing their interesting grains and diverse colors.
Much to the delight of the men, I also designed a wooden puzzle that depicted a scene in which reindeer were grazing in a meadow. I affixed my drawing to a thin board and cut it into a variety of shapes that could be scattered and reassembled. Pel and his men laughed and exchanged notes as they moved the reindeer pieces about and decided where they should stand and how they would fit together.
Enok guarded us with dedication as we worked, and so I carved him a wooden bone that he could carry about and gnaw on as he sat with us in his role as protector. Gabriella’s abundant meals and flavorful cakes were the fuel that kept us all going as we kept pace with our demanding schedule.
Our work was directed by our desire to create well-made toys that represented the pride of our craftsmanship while at the same time bringing joy and wonder to their recipients. And the types of toys were as varied as the children that would play with them.
We toiled together, and our collection of toys grew to an impressive size. The workshop became overloaded beyond our capacity to work around what we had already made. But Pel had a ready solution and offered another of his huts as a safe haven for our gifts. He and his men worked to safely transfer groups of toys to our temporary storage area.
Pel also became our primary toy tester as he pulled on strings, tweaked levers, rode rocking horses and hobbyhorses, and danced with puppets to our amusement and delight in the workshop.
One day as I began assembling the pieces of the great sleigh I had designed, Sarah watched me through the window. She was quite heavy with child and I could see the added difficulty she sometimes had while moving about our home.
When I had hammered in the last of the pegs securing the coach to the body of the sleigh, I cracked the reins and sent Sebastian bolting forward. His massive strength ripped the front half of the sleigh right off, pulling the runners and the floor out from under me. Still holding onto the front of the sleigh, I slid for half a dozen paces, then lost my grip and tumbled in the snow. In his enthusiasm he continued to run, and I had to chase him down to get him to return.
I could see Sarah laughing heartily as she watched us through the window despite the fact she tried to hide her amusement.
In the coming days I completed the sleigh and tried another test run with Sebastian. Our efforts were a glorious success and I knew I would soon be ready to begin my incredible journey.
After a long day’s work, sleep seemed a welcomed relief. But I remained restless and agitated in my dreams as I considered the great delivery I was about to make and all there was remaining to do.
I hadn’t noticed when Sarah left our bed, but I awoke when she returned as the light of the lantern shone briefly in my eyes. She curled into the bed beside me and wrapped herself in the sheets as she drifted off to sleep. I watched her lying there for a moment and reflected on all the love I felt for her, then raised my groggy head and decided to return to the workshop to see if I could finish still more of my toys.
Though my sleep was short, I felt a new sense of energy as I entered the workshop to stoke the fire and set about my duties. Then what to my eyes did appear but little bundles of toys, wrapped in bright red knitted material.
The bundles were scattered throughout the workshop, organized by village. Each bundle had a name to identify its intended recipient, written on a tiny wood plate salvaged from the shavings that Gabriela and Sarah had collected. Some lay on table tops, some in bags, some in great piles on the floor. And there was Pel wandering amid the toys, tapping each present as if counting.
“You have big, big, big herd of toys,” Pel stated proudly.
“You wrapped them?” I said with astonishment.
“Sarah,” Pel beamed.
I began tapping the presents as Pel had done, and he looked at me as if to question my motives.
“Just checking twice,”
Pel began digging in his pocket and pulled out a wooden doll he had constructed. He proudly set the simple doll, with its large, roughly carved wooden head and a body made from straw and sticks bound by cloth, next to the rows and piles of wrapped toys.
Dejected, he compared his present to the other beautifully wrapped gifts set about the room.
“What’s the matter?” I asked him gently. “What’s troubling you, Pel?”
“Doll have no blanket like other toys,” he said.
I thought for a moment, then walked over to the stove and lifted one of the socks left on the belly to dry. Pel watched me with curiosity. I retrieved his toy, opened the sock and dropped the doll inside. I then tied a clever knot in the top of the sock and set it down upon a pile of toys.
Pel smacked the table with delight, pulled another doll out of his pocket, and grinned at me.
With the help of Pel and his men, all was ready and loaded. When my massive team was harnessed four-in-hand with Sebastian at the left lead, I climbed into the sleigh and took a deep breath of cold night air. I could feel the excitement coursing through my veins and my heart pounding with anticipation. Pel looked up as if remembering something almost forgotten, took off his steeple hat, quickly stuffed it with hay from the floor of the barn, and pulled it down over my head.
I was sure I looked the fool, but he was right. Without a head covering, I would lose much of my warmth to the long winter’s night and endanger my well-being. Despite the aversion to my outward appearance, I left the hat on and gave a polite smile. Pel laughed so hard, he fell to the ground kicking and holding his tummy. I wondered how long he had waited and planned for this moment. I knew he loved the hat, and he knew I hated it. But I vowed in that jovial moment that he would never get it back.
Pel pushed the door of the barn wide open. I waved good-bye and threw kisses across the breeze to Sarah and Gabriella who were watching from the windows. I stood chariot-style on a stand behind the sleigh and commanded my team of magnificent horses as they launched their weighty cargo out into the wondrous night and down the tree-covered path. Their thick, long manes and tails and the white feather anklets dancing above their massive hooves, shone in the glimmering light of a moon that cut through the trees as we raced forward.
The horses ran with strength, pride, and determination. The sleigh’s lantern that hung above and in front of them from a long pole swayed in response to their speed as the first snow flurries of Christmas Eve began to fall.
I gripped the reins tightly in my hands as we dashed ahead across the countryside, standing behind the sleigh urging my beauties forward, my cape buffeted by the wind.
Ahead I could see a small village nestled among the foothills, and from the windows of cabins spread across the land the twinkling light of lanterns spilled into the night. Above the village, a star-peppered sky cast a majestic dome that brought the heavens and the earth together in a glorious scene.
As I arrived at the edge of the village, I steered Sebastian to a secluded spot and pulled the sleigh to a halt.
I leapt to the ground, shouldered a heavy bag of toys, and set off into the snow.
Sarah and Gabriella had prepared a number of small, fresh cakes to sustain me on my journey, and in my excitement I pulled one from my pocket and savored its rich flavor.
I selected a red bundle from my bag of toys and placed it proudly on the windowsill of the first cottage I encountered then rewarded myself with another bite of cake as I danced away to other cottages along the path.
I quietly moved to each new dwelling and placed my presents on windowsill after windowsill until each was endowed with a special gift intended especially for the occupants of that home, whose names I reviewed in my journal.
&n
bsp; When I completed my deliveries in this village, my bag of toys was lightened, and I returned to the sleigh to begin my journey to the next small hamlet on my list. I stopped momentarily to sample more cakes, as I knew I must maintain my strength for the long night ahead.
Along the way, I spied a single stone house nearly hidden by a thick growth of trees. It was immersed in dark shadows and looked anything but inviting.
I stopped my team and reached into the bag of toys resting behind me, where I located a brightly colored nutcracker painted in reds, yellows, and greens.
“What do you think, Sebastian, is this the one?” I asked him, seeking an honest answer that was promptly delivered.
Sebastian snorted at the gift.
I decided he was merely envious of my cake. And so as I walked past him, I turned briefly and whispered in his ear, “Don’t tell the others.” And I reached into my bag of treats as he nuzzled me only to find in my zeal that I had eaten them all. So I took my hat off to feed him some of the hay Pel had packed within, and he shoved his entire muzzle completely inside, nearly eating the fabric with it.
“That’s supposed to keep my head warm.” I cheerfully admonished. And when I put my hat back on my head, it flopped to the side, resting on my shoulder like some old stocking. At least I no longer pointed to the sky.
Facing the large house, I could see a pair of snarling stone bears that flanked its entryway as if to scare away intruders.
“Looks like somebody here could use a toy,” I said over my shoulder to Sebastian.
The house had a shingled roof and high windows without sills which left me absent a place to leave the toy where it was at least somewhat protected. I walked partway around its perimeter, flipping the nutcracker in my hand as I studied how I might attempt my delivery. Then I got an idea. The size and location of the chimney indicated it housed one of the large central fireplaces that heated the entire home, normally open to a great room that surrounded it. The hearth itself should span 6 to 8 feet on either side, more than enough room to drop a toy down without landing in the fire. The owners probably used the warm stone hearth to dry clothing and such.
I returned to the sleigh and grabbed a coil of rope that I slung over my shoulder. Sebastian watched me with interest. He tossed his head with a loud whinny, releasing giant clouds of his steamy breath, and then grunted as if in disapproval.
“Yes, that’s why you’re the horse and I’m the driver,” I answered in response to his comment.
I found a large crack along one corner of the house and places I could work my boots in between the stones in a long, hard climb to the roof. With the greatest of effort, I finally made it to the top. I rolled over onto my back and lay on the roof, gasping for air after my strenuous climb. The length of the walls made the roof abnormally high, and I lay there asking myself what I was thinking. When I had rested sufficiently to regain my nerve, I took the rope coil from around my shoulder and scrambled over the ice-covered roof to the chimney.
I looked inside the flue of the chimney to locate the position of the fire below, and I tied a slip knot around the toy soldier’s ankles and lowered him slowly into the chimney until he was dangling a safe distance away from the embers of the low-burning fire in the hearth. When I could see he was well positioned, I gave a little tug of the rope, and the toy soldier dropped and rolled just beyond the fireplace and onto the stone floor. I was thrilled with the success of my maneuver and congratulated myself as I began to work my way down the roof. “Ho, ho, ho,” I laughed until my foot hit a patch of ice and slid out from under me. I fell, sliding down the sloped roof, struggling to grab onto anything only to fill my hands with powdered snow. Unable to stop my descent, I shot out over the edge of the roof with my legs kicking through the air wildly. “Wh-whoah!” I shouted uncontrollably as I plummeted to the ground and landed flat on my back in a giant mound of snow with a loud WHOMP. Moments later, my bag of toys hit the snow beside me.
Sebastian and the other horses looked over to see what had caused the commotion, and he snorted and blew steam from his nostrils as if anxious that I might be caught.
I could hear the barking of a large dog inside the house, and additional candlelight began to glow though the windows of the upper story. I gathered my wits about me, collected my toys, and quickly limped back to the sleigh with an Ooooo, Aggghhh, Owwww.
Sebastian whinnied in response as he pulled the sleigh forward.
“Quiet,” I said to him flatly. “Or next time, you go up on the roof with me.”
On we went to village after village and town after town as we covered vast distances to deliver our gifts. Once again I experienced the strange stretching of time that came with every delivery, where I couldn’t tell if I had been traveling for days or hours.
Sebastian and the team moved with great speed, despite our long journey, and soon I directed them to the old church where I had long ago left my darling sister.
I pulled them to a halt beyond the sanctuary and jumped down from the sleigh to venture inside. The table where I had set Kendra to rest was still in place. And on it was the same wicker mat and stone nativity display from my very first visit, the one wise man still chipped from my momentary burst of anguish and bitterness.
From my pocket I pulled a figurine that I had delicately carved from stone. It was what I imagined the Sami Noiadi wise man who traveled across the world to welcome a small child might have looked like. When I placed him in the manger scene, I realized that if my hat still pointed to the sky, he might look a little like me.
I knelt down at eye level with the table and explored the tableau of figurines, from the beasts that lay in and around the manger to the bent and tired couple surrounded by shepherds and the wise men who knelt or stood before the child, offering their gifts of precious metal, oil, and incense.
“Merry Christmas, little one,” I said, to the small child whose birth was to be a beacon of hope to the world.
Then an old remembered voice rang out behind me in rich, warm resonant tones.
“How are the miracles?”
“I’ve decided to believe,” I confided to the holy man.
“Oh, why is that?” he asked, laying a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Because it is a much better world with them in it,” was my simple reply.
“Yes. Yes, it is,” the holy man said. Then he placed a steaming cup of tea and plate of cookies on the table beside me as if he still had them from our first meeting and had simply waited for my return.
Standing with effort, I realized that Pel was right. I was getting wider. And I had already eaten the whole batch of cakes made by Sarah.
“Oh, no. No, I really shouldn’t,” I said softly as I rubbed my ample belly.
The holy man looked at me with his cataract eyes and patted me on the cheek with a laugh.
“Never turn down a cookie,” he said with a smile as he turned to leave.
I selected one of the fattest cookies and took a generous bite. When I looked to say good-bye, he was already gone, though the room seemed filled with his presence.
Sebastian and his companions had waited for me patiently, and when I returned to the sleigh, I rubbed their necks as I walked by and thanked them for the incredible job they had done.
With the light of our oil lantern hanging in front of the sleigh like a guiding star, we set off for the last of the night’s deliveries near the mountain spine that divided our Norwegian lands from the lands beyond.
Silent snowflakes drifted down around us as we finished our monumental task, leaving us feeling triumphant and invincible. We surged along a snowy trail surrounded by imposing mountains that beckoned to us and stopped at the fork in the road that lead up to the mountain home of my early youth.
I had toys still remaining in my bag.
“These gifts would make some children very happy,” I said to Sebastian and the team. I looked up at my familiar mountains silhouetted against the starry sky, and one of the horses snorted.
> “What do you say, fellas?” I asked.
Another horse shook its backside and sent out a spray of snow from its haunches.
I fumbled absentmindedly in my pockets, now replenished by the cookies from the church. I stuffed a small one into my mouth as I examined the fork in the trail that would take us higher into the mountains.
“YAH!” I shouted with my mouth still half full. With a slap of the reins we shot up the mountain path.
I had forgotten the abrupt weather changes of the passes up into the mountains, and our passage became more challenging as we proceeded. Waves of wind-driven sleet pummeled the sleigh with loud THWACKS as our pace began to slow.
The horses’ hooves slipped from time to time due to the ice that appeared in growing patches, and it became increasingly difficult to keep the horses on the narrow trail along the side of the mountain.
I stood in the coach to chance a better look as we moved forward, and saw the trail cut away with a sharp edge and a steep drop-off to the boulders littering the valley below.
Pulling on the reins, I steered the horses to the left so Sebastian and the others would hug the mountain wall. The wind whipped down the trail and tore at us relentlessly, making it even more difficult to proceed. As our movement and positioning became harder, I knew we could not turn around on this narrow sliver of trail. There was no choice but to continue our forward momentum however we might, in hope of finding a wider segment of trail ahead, or a place to pull aside in shelter.
The wind would not relent in the punishment it gave us, blowing in gusts so great they almost threw me from the sleigh. I thought of the promise I had made to Sarah, the promise I had made and broken.
What I thought to be the howling of the wind became the howling and snapping of wolves as a snarl drew my attention to a giant gray wolf that ran along the ridge of the mountain above and beside my head, snapping his feral teeth. Behind me in the distance I heard the pack following us, waiting for the moment to leap upon the sleigh and tear at us in our helplessness.
Kris Page 15
