Greetings from the North Pole, Part XXIII

Christmas Eve 2025

My dearest children,

Drums and trumpets—it’s Christmas again! When I was a Correspondent, the entirety of the year revolved around the axis of this One Night, but as an Historian, I am steeped in the Past, only to lose the Present to the Future all in a leap! Providentially, realizing that I am late starting has made me early finishing—a special delivery on Christmas Eve!

My new vocation goes well—or vocations, rather! The wedding last Spring came off without a hitch (except the One Intended, as Tuggs likes to say), and Bell and I are as happy as otters on a snow-slide![1] We have a portrait of my Gracie next to the grotto by the fireplace, and we are sure she and Our Lady are pleased and praying for us.

But also, my work compiling Elfin Lore and History is delightful, particularly after breaking the ice, as we say, with Lecturius Mustkeep. Ol’ Musty maintains the Archives and Stacks of the library at Saint Nicholas of Myra College and Seminary beyond the Pole in what you would call the North of Russia. He is a Tough Nut to crack—but his fondness for Old Things extends to scotch, as I supposed it might, and Santa himself permitted me to regift a one of his: a bottle of Cratchit Brothers, aged a century and extremely rare!

Lecturius and his brother Ponderus are great-grandsons of Pontificus Mustkeep, one of the founders of the college and the first Elfin Loremaster, whose personal collection is the foundation of the Archives. Ponderus hoards, and occasionally sells, antiquities and is even more reclusive his brother: large, menacing, and reticent as a mountain. Lecturius is gruff,  gray-bearded, and spectacled, but civil enough, and he has deep knowledge of all things Elf. Conversing with him through the narrow gap in the stacks of books that cover his desk is an experience not to be missed—particularly over two fingers of whisky!

Among other things, I am learning about misconceptions about us from Down Below. What can I share in a sentence or two?

It is a myth of your world that we elves eat only sweets. We love all good food and drink, and many of us cannot eat what passes for candy among your Folk at all! We do, however, all have sweet-tooths—or rather, sweet-teeth—and enjoy the homemade desserts and confections made here in the North or shared by all of you. (Your pies and cookies look outstanding!) Since the winds blow cold and our blood flows quick and hot, we burn calories much more quickly than even the Largest and most Athletic of humans, so we Elves are never large and rarely fat!

Also, although we are fond of jingling bells and often sew them to our warm outer garments, we are not so fond as to wear them on our toes.[2] Indeed, none of us wear boots or shoes with pointed or curling toes or bells, except for certain Traditional Dances. In these cases, both the dances and shoes are handed down from generation to generation.

On that note—the mention of tradition—I offer the following thoughts: My life has changed significantly since first we began corresponding, and so has yours. It must be so. Humans grow and change quickly: In just the next few months, Emma and Isaac will marry and your Parents and Lily will move. Next Christmas they will decorate a new house, without a banister or mantle, perhaps—or maybe with high ceilings for a massive Tree! Perhaps you will not all be together. Perhaps my work will take me abroad, so that I write to you early or late (or both, again!).

My Lesson is this: These little Traditions may change, and that is well. But Faith, Hope, and Charity do not change. People, families, and relationships may change—but the Lord does not. Our desires and needs may change, but our call to Holiness does not. You are all Good. Stay good, and you will weather these changes just fine!

I have learned this well, from Gracie to Bell!

Wishing you the happiest of Christmases and very blessed New Year!

Yours still and always,

Q

Siberius Quill

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[1] No “pups” yet!

[2] Bells on our coats and hats also help us to be heard, and thus seen, when we are out and about in the long winter darkness.

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XXII

 

Christmas 2024

 

My dearest children,

Christmas-time is here again, and I am blessed to be writing with Good News: Bell Doubletree and I are Engaged to be married! Never in my warmest dreams had I expected an Engagement in less than a decade, never-mind Four Short Years, but Madame Noelle Matchwright thought otherwise! Pere Noel agreed, and the two convinced old Tuggs to loose the reins and let us run. We are to be married on the Vernal Equinox!

In truth, it took little convincing. Master Doubletree is a practical-minded fellow as we Elves go, but he loves his Bell truly and sees the ways in which we complement and challenge each other. Plus, once I began recording the Doubletree family history, he and I spent many evenings together over a pint and pipe. God has blessed my new vocation as an Historian—wink!

Unlike the mild, grey December you are having, Winter here has been bitterly cold, and the Polar Maintenance Corps deals daily with Frozen Pipes and Flooded Basements! Coincidentally, the leader of the PMC is one Maglorious Chamberpot—a name I’m sure Miss Lily and your father will find amusing, given their urging of Brother Jude to choose St. Maglorious as his patron. Our Maglorious is descended from a long line of very capable custodians and pipe-fitters—the Clan Chamberpot has kept the Pole spick and span since before the days of indoor plumbing!

You may have noticed a tendency among Our Kind for families in similar kinds of work to be joined in matrimony,[1] and the Chamberpots are no exception. Glory’s wife, for example, is Pristine Ablewhite, a laundress of great renown whose grandfather, Fuller, is responsible for cleaning the soot from Santa’s suit upon his return Christmas morning, ensuring the fur trim is kept “dazzlingly white” (Mark 9:13). Priss now assists Glory in running the PMC’s Housekeeping Division; her siblings Prest, Prim, and Proper run the Great White Polar Laundry Service.

Congratulations to all of you for your persistence on the Nice List! I will continue to report your status, though you are older now, and there is little doubt year to year. Welcome home, Rome clan, and congratulations on your Blessed Addition, little Laverna—what a lovely way to commemorate your pilgrimage with St. Francis last winter, on the 800^th anniversary of the first Nativity Scenes. And kudos to you, Miss Emma, Master Trevor, and Miss Lily, for another year of doing good and doing it well. Persist in your Good Works, whether at school, at home, or in the Wide World, and you will be Rewarded—truly!

Finally, a word for your dear parents: We see you, dear Jodi, and know your Heart for your Children, which is much like ours (only more so). They love you, and the separations of Distance or Obedience will not change that. And you, James—cease your worrying! Your efforts to be a good Husband and Father have not been perfect but have born good fruit. Our Lady and St. Joseph shared your pains keenly, until they arrived before their Son in Heaven—then all such sorrow ceased. Such joy awaits you both!

Peace to you, one and all. Wishing you the happiest of Christmases and very blessed New Year!

Yours still and always,

Q

Siberius Quill

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[1] You might not guess it, but my Wordsmithery and Bell’s Engravery are not so different either—both detail-driven crafts requiring a keen eye, a practiced hand, creativity, and polish!

 

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XXI

 

Christmas 2023

 

My dearest children,

Mercy! Can I call you children? All five are grown, four are flown, and the Youngest, Miss Lily, towers over even the tallest elf! I must devise a new greeting—or perhaps, since you remain Thorplets through and through (and since I persist in being Far Older than all of you together), “children” is still best.

As you may have heard from your Rome Family, another scribe has been assigned to Masters Augustine and Charles—my cousin, Archival Gudwerds. He is an excellent Correspondent and a good elf—less fanciful, but more faithful, than Yours Truly. He will serve your extended family well!

The Better News is this: I was not assigned the Rome crew because I have been asked, instead, to compile more of the History and Stories of the Pole, as your Father and I did with The Terrible Caribou Flu. So while I won’t be taking on New Families as an annual Correspondent, I will continue to correspond with All of you—a joyous Note, indeed!

T         T         T

That said, there is still a Question among you, keen Readers that you are, and it is not an easy one for me to answer. It has been my great joy the past few years to share news of my courtship of Miss Bell Doubletree (which continues at a breakneck pace—shared meals and fireside carols now). But you, dear ones, noticed what I had forgotten: Many years ago, early in our correspondence, I mentioned dear Gracie, my wife…

Grace Goodcheer and I grew up together here at the Pole, not just elves of the same generation or grade, but birds of a feather and Fast Friends. In her eyes, I was a delight—colorful, humorous, and quick-witted, seeing the Tilted World with eyes of joy and wonder. In mine, she was good as Gold: pure-hearted, selfless, and faithful. I loved her from the first—a recess encounter in the school-yard. (I tackled her and rubbed snow in her hair, of course!)

Gracie was slight of build, even by our standards, fair-skinned, dark-haired, with eyes like deep pools of blue water and a light, tumbling laugh like the tinkling of tiny bells. I am sure your Father and Master Brendan can relate when I say she inspired me to be a better man. But she was never completely well, even as a child, and the cold and dark of Polar Winters can be hard on those who don’t have a typical hardy elfin constitution. We married as soon as we were of age, but she often spent the darkest, coldest months with the Devout Sisters of Our Lady of Perpetual Winter, who could nurse and encourage her in long-suffering and prayer.

Even then, she loved. She offered herself daily for those with less: less Health, less Comfort, less Family, less Hope. It may seem strange to you, given the tales and movies made about Us, but we are fallen and mortal, too. (Yes, Miss Emma, elves, like reindeer, pass away…) By God’s grace, elves tend toward warmth and cheer, health and hardihood—but there are a Few who wander in the cold and darkness, and Some, like sweet Gracie, who carry their crosses and offer their sufferings for the needs of those who struggle or stray.

You’ve noticed, no doubt, my use of past tense. She died, my bride, a few years before I started my correspondence with all of you.

I was heartsick, of course, and, like many men among you Big Folk, I threw myself entirely into Work. I requested more Families; I researched legends and recorded stories—I wrote and wrote and wrote—and failed to mourn and mend. I spoke to all as I did to you, in present tense—Grace Quill is my wife. And I refused help or advice, no matter who offered.

It is easy for an elf to feign Happiness, and, in this blesséd Place in particular, easy for others to Believe.

It was the Old Man himself—St. Nicholas—who finally interceded. “My child,” he said, “the Enemy would like nothing more than for you to lose yourself in Memories or Work. He does not need you to turn away from Light and Love, only to stop and stagnate. In faith, remember!—your bride is still alive, still a Grace and a Goodcheer!—and you are not alone. It is time again to live.”

His words found their mark. I took my first few steps back into the Light. I left work for an entire month and went on Retreat with the Sisters—they even gave me Grace’s room! I wept, and prayed, and slept long hours, and ate and drank heartily*, in silence, with her soft Presence so near, so near!

T         T         T

The Lord is good, and patient with us. When I first referenced Bell, I said “after decades of waiting.” It has been decades—just barely, and only two—and, by waiting, I suppose I meant marking time. I had no thought of courting or marrying again. I returned to my work at peace, with clear Eyes and an open Heart—and then I saw Bell. What a sight she was, for eyes sore as mine! Freckled and feisty, with rusty curls and rosy cheeks and glittering green eyes—I looked a moment overlong, and she saw and blushed and smiled.

And somewhere near my heart, Gracie did, too.

And so. I have come clean, and it was not as hard as I thought it might be—perhaps because you are all grown now; perhaps because I know of your own long-suffering these days, with the Passing of Becky’s grandfather and your Dziadzi’s illness. Know that it was never my intention to mislead—to paraphrase Gandalf from those great tales of Master Tolkien: A fool I remain, but an honest one!

We have much to be grateful for, even on a gray, muddy Christmas such as this. God so loved the World that He was born in barn, a helpless, wriggling Babe—the least intimidating, easiest-to-love form He could have taken. Let us embrace Him, softly and tenderly as Mary, watch over and protect him like Joseph—and then bring Him, like the Bishop of Myra, to the rest of the waiting World.

Wishing you the happiest of Christmases and a very blessed New Year!

Yours still and always,

Q

Siberius Quill

 

PS You are, each and all, on the Nice list, of course. Well done!

*Sister Catherine Cornucopia, who manages the Covent Kitchen, says she has never seen such an appetite; they were forced, as Master Gabriel might appreciate, to beg meat and wine from larder at the Kringle House!