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

---

[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

---

[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!

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XX

December 2022

My dearest Children,

Once more around the Sun, and it’s Christmastime again! The Practicalities, first: The Rome Clan’s gifts were mismarked for Minnesota. Our twin Doublecheckers, Dothea and Crossby Thorogood, caught the mistake only moments before the Sleigh departed. Rather than resort to elfin Magic to reroute the gifts, they used much older method: a Favor. They consulted with our lead Rerouter for the Italian Peninsula, Linguina Pacchetta-Eubetta, who learned of Master Nick Waddell’s pending visit. Gwin reached out to the Seminary, and he has agreed to bring the the Old Man’s gifts on Our Behalf, along with those from Minnesota. All’s well that ends well, as they say—and there’s none better that Dot and Cross when it comes to Is and Ts like these!

It has been cold in Minnesota—a White Christmas, indeed, with Polar temperatures and winds to boot. Quite a contrast to a balmy winter in Rome! Although Everyone is now of age in terms of All Things Christmas (save Masters Augustine and Charles, who are as yet Too Young to have many questions), your Watchers still check on occasion.

Brendan, Becky, and the Boys: What a blessed home you’ve made already in the Eternal City! As you’ve no doubt noticed, Children are in Short Supply there, but young Augie’s bright blue eyes and boundless Energy, and the perfect, plump Adorability of “Chuckito-Burrito,” as his Dziadzi calls him, will water seeds in the driest of hearts. Continue to witness to the Joy of Family Life, my Friends—the world Down Below is in Dire Need!

Master Gabriel: The Winter has not been kind to your Car or your Pocketbook, but as you know well, it matters little! Your calling to join the Franciscans will bear fruit in the coming months, and these problems melt away with the Snow now that the days are lengthening again! You and your Younger Brother have always been Good Boys; now you are both becoming New Men in profound ways. The Sisters of Our Lady of Perpetual Winter pray daily for you both, as they do for all budding Vocations. Well done, Master Trevor, on your first semester of College Seminary classes!

We are so proud of you, as well, Miss Emma, for finding Studies you love in Bismarck and for committing to your church’s Missionary Trip this winter. Serving those in need will no doubt make a Deep Impression on your Heart, dear one. Let it. Like any scar, Hearts that are broken from Love heal stronger!

And Miss Lily: My, but you have embraced your Role in Christmas well this Winter! Keep up the Good Work—you help to keep the magic of the Season alive for young and old alike! But always Remember: The Magic of Christmas can only point to the Meaning of Christmas…the great gift of our Savior, born a Babe in a manger. St. Nicholas believes in Him, and so must you, or it’s all just bubblewrap and tinsel!

But here I am again, running long on Words and short on Paper. One final Note, if I may: The lovely Miss Bell Doubletree and I have taken numerous sleighrides in the past year—not in THE Sleigh, of course!—and our courtship is progressing wonderfully. Another year or two and we could be engaged, if ol’ Tuggs (her father) and Miss Matchwright (our elfin Matchmaker) approve—a whirlwind Courtship by our standards! We elves move quickly in Everything, save romance! Wish me God’s good providence!

For my part, I wish you only the Happiest of Christmases and a blessed New Year!

Yours Still and Always,

Q

Siberius Quill

 

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XIX

 

Christmas 2021

My dearest Children,

How wild the Whirlwind blows for you who live Below! Here it is always one white and wonderous Winter, but you must deal with Seasons and Wardrobes changing, travel plans, illnesses, and who knows What Else! Even the most energetic Elves can lose the Thread that connects the Start of Human plans to their End. Truly, I am glad you were able to come Together in Bismarck, God willing in good Health and full Vigor!

But your question of Thursday morning was well-placed, Miss Lily! You asked whether old Santa would visit your home in Minnesota, or Bismarck, or both. As usual with such things, your Father was correct: We try our Level Best to deliver Everyone’s gifts to Where-They-Are, not Where-They-Were or Will-Be. Our elfin Routers are constantly calculating and recalculating the most Efficient path to the homes of all Believers, always taking into account the latest information from the Watcher Corps. Since your Family’s plans were up in the air until just a few days ago, the Gifts and Routing naturally could not be finalized until Your Father and Brother tested free and clear of sickness!

It may please you to know that last-minute re-routes are expedited by two Roving Routers—identical twins Felicity and Ezekiel Fleetfoot (Fliss and EZ, we call them!). Not only are they quick on their Feet, as their surname suggests (descended, as they are, from a long line of Messenger Elves), but they can finish each other’s Thoughts and Sentences, which makes last-minute changes a breeze!

Still, mistakes happen: Thus there is a Gift missing from Mistress Becky’s delivery, and only a card in its place. (Our apologies, Dear One!) Fliss discovered the issue—a lost note from the Kitchens of Mrs. Claus to the Makers’ Workshop—and her brother thought to simply ship the final gift to Minnesota when it was finished to reach Becky when she arrives for the New Year. EZ does it, as they say!

Masters Brendan, Gabriel, and Trevor; Miss Emma Rose and Lillian; and dear Becky: You continue to do such Good Things in this tilted World, putting your Gifts to use for Our Lord and His Kingdom. We all serve Someone—even jolly St. Nicholas!—and he is Most Pleased that you continue to choose the Good almost always! I am blest to be your Scribe and would dearly love to continue writing for you (and the Next Generation—bless me!) for years to come!

But things do change as the Children of Men age, and what must Be shall Be. Miss Lily has now reached double-digits and had new Responsibilities to take on regarding All Things Christmas. Ask your Father in a quiet moment, young One—and do not be alarmed if he gets a bit emotional. He has always been Softer than he appears.

A final Note: I mentioned in last year’s Letter a certain Bell Doubletree, who holds my tiny Heart in her nimble Hands. I am overjoyed to share our Courtship has begun—which also means I am now spending time with her Father, Master Tuggs, learning all things Harness, Hoof, and Horn. (Antlers, actually, but I am a Scribe, and fond of alliteration.)

I wish you only the Happiest of Christmases and a blessed New Year!

Yours Still and Always,

Q

Siberius Quill

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XVIII

Christmas 2020 

My dearest children, 

The Blessed Day has at last arrived, and this most unusual Year is drawing to a close—not a moment too soon, I think, for you living Down Below. One of the great Blessings of life here at the Pole is that (aside from Reindeer Flu and the like) we are generally free of your Human illnesses. The so-called inhospitable climate of the Great White North, coupled with our natural Isolation, has rendered the Great Pandemic of 2020 moot. Would that were true for you! 

And yet Christmas has come to the Thorp Clan, on time and glittering for all that, with a deep cushion of new snow for soft landing all around—thank you, Lily, for your White Christmas wishes! You have all been entirely Blessed this year—all working or in school in a more-or-less Normal Fashion (for Humans, at least), all Healthy, and with a brand-new Wee One to extend the Thorp line. Welcome and well-met, Master Augustine! I shall await next year’s Duty Board (tell your Father, “Yes, he said ‘dooty’”) to see if I am named scribe for the Bismarck Thorps, as well—but in the meantime, the joy of Master Brendan and his beautiful bride brings into sharper focus the desires of my own Heart for Love and Family. Yes, after decades of waiting, there is a Girl, with lovely long hair and warm, smiling eyes like those of Mistress Becky! Her name is Bell, the youngest daughter of ol’ Tuggs Doubletree’s harness-making brood, a rough and rowdy lot. Miss Bell does the finest filigree tooling on Santa’s sleigh bells, and she is just as brassy and joy-filled as her name suggests. I shall have my hands full should my Desires one day be realized—but first, a Date would do! 

But enough of me and my concerns: Lily, you have a couple as-yet Unanswered Questions—though I believe if you read back through past letters (14 years…bless me!) you would find you are not the First to ask these Things! I believe you asked how Santa enters homes without chimneys (a more and more common Phenomenon these days), and how the various reindeer from the great Poems and Songs are doing. 

May I take the latter question first? I hope you won’t be too disappointed to know (as your sister was and does) that those earlier reindeer are No Longer with Us. Naturally, they are long passed—unlike Elves, who, though mortal, are miraculously long-lived, our Reindeer are just deer—bodily and animated creatures, well attended by Doc Vendy and others to be sure, but not the least bit magical in Themselves. Other deer have long since taken the place of Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, et al—just as there were countless generations before them—but all from the same stock and all with a Fearless Disposition with regard to treading clouds and windswept rooftops! 

Indeed, nothing at the Pole is rightly conceived as magical in the Human senses of the world. Reindeer cannot fly by illusion and or sleight of hand, like that of your performing Magicians—and of course, St. Nicholas would not have even a whiff of occult nonsense or pagan Mumbo-Jumbo mixed up in his Business. Heaven forbid! What passes for magic to your eyes is really an extension of Our Lord’s teaching that, if you have Faith the size of a Mustard seed, you could move mountains. As you might imagine, if you have enough faith as to tell a Mulberry Tree to plant itself in the Sea and watch it do so, you must be Very Careful what you wish! Thus when I write of elfin mathematimagicians and aeroanimages, spells and magic, what I really refer to extreme Precision and Persistence in Prayer. We are thorough and detailed in what we ask of God’s providence and plan, in order that the miracles of Christmas as you know and love it may come to pass each year with scarcely a Ripple in the Cosmos, despite that we are doing grand and wonderous Things! Indeed one of the great Myths of life at the North Pole is that, when Master Kringle takes to the skies, we elves celebrate or take our rest. Not so! When the sleigh departs, all of us—young and old, of every trade—join Fr. Aloysius and the Sisters of Perpetual Winter for an all-night vigil including Midnight Mass, caroling and Adoration, that our plans be good, true and beautiful, and that God’s will be done through them! 

Nearly out of paper from rambling, and I still have the question of how the Old Man enters homes without a chimney. In retrospect, I see I’ve answered twice before, so I will share my 2016 reply in hopes that Mistress Lily and the Family might revisit the old letters: 

St. Nicholas goes where he wills, in whatever form is required: a tall and saintly bishop, a plump and fur-clad toymaker, a wisp of Christmas Spirit swirling on a winter breeze. Doors and locks are no obstacle for him—a chimney, a vent, or even a keyhole is as good as a doorway if we wished to enter!

You elder Children have made us proud here at the Pole: Master Gabriel with his missionary service and prayerful simplicity, Miss Emma—Rosebud, as your Father says—spreading Joy and expanding your Horizons at the University of Mary (or Merry, as the case may be!), and Master Trevor sharing music and growing in knowledge and faith at a new school this year. Our Watchers never tire—and never tire of watching you. May God continue to bless you now and in eternity—stay close to Him, and you will weather the Storms of This World unscathed. A very Happy Christmas to you all!

Yours Still and Always,

Q

Siberius Quill

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XVII

Christmas 2019

My dearest children,

Your Father asks, and rightly so: Where does the Time go? Another year, come and gone—One might think the great looping path by which the Earth circles the Sun were diminishing day by day, shortening the Seasons (and warming the Winters!), but I assure you it is not so. The Great Chronometer skips not a beat, year by year; it is We who perceive it differently as We age.

Do the Years seem shorter to you, yet, Master Brendan? Brace yourself, youngling—and your Lovely Bride, too! In a Few Short Days, it may feel as though Tuggs Doubletree has harnessed another young Team or two to your Sleigh. Two I dos and away you’ll fly into the frosty night as Husband and Wife. In centuries past, Such Things were arranged for both Your Kind and Ours, but rest assured, the Both of you: you have chosen well. Noelle Matchwright has studied you from afar and is Most Impressed with your Formation and Discernment, which are mostly absent in Marriages these days.

But forgive me: Madame Matchwright is unknown to you! She is the original elfin Matchmaker here at the Pole, and for many centuries, arranged all Marriages among Our Kind. She has the keen eyes of her father’s Farseer kinsfolk and the saintliness of her maternal Trueheart blood, both of Which lend themselves well to her Mission. It was God’s Providence that she married Sulpherous Matchwright and gained a name that matched her trade. Old Smoky makes matches, as well, but of a much Different Sort. Still the spark was there, and they have many Daughters, each a Spitting Image of their mother in looks and knack, and each named Noelle like the Mother who bore them, making her the First Noelle—truly!

The rest of you Young Ones may notice a speeding of the spin of this Tilted World, as well! Master Gabriel, it is well and wise that you should strive to live in Christmas Present, and neither languish in the Past nor sprint too quickly to the unknown Future. God has great plans for you, today and always, and you are doing the Best Work a man can do: Sharing the love of Him Whose birth eclipses all the Wonders we work up here! Miss Emma Rose, do enjoy these next few months at home with your Siblings and Parents and Friends of all Ages—you and the University of Mary will be mutually blessed next Fall, no doubt, but such Changes are coming, and you are no longer a little girl (much to your Parents’ dismay). Continue to pray and may your new veil serve to focus your attention on the Universal Bridegroom. (I know you hoped for blue lace in honor of Our Lady; this one is more a silver hue, woven of Moonlight on the Snow by the Sisters of Perpetual Winter—I hope it will suffice!) Master Trevor, we continue to enjoy your musical career, in Various Bands, Choirs and Theatrical Productions, as well as the blossoming of your potential Vocation. Fr. Aloysius and Sr. Providence offer Masses and Rosaries for all such aspiring Young People, and have prayed for you, in particular. Whatever the Future holds, know that it will be Blessed to the extent you are open and allow it to be!

And finally, Miss Lily: Bursting with curiosity this year about All Things Christmas. Your dark eyes see much, Little One, but your Heart knows more! Let it lead you to the Truth of things, especially as you prepare for your First Holy Communion! Your Note was late going out, but as I’ve said in the Past, even late is rarely Too Late for jolly old St. Nicholas. You have received what the Old Man thought best, and I’m sure you are happy even without Everything on your List.

You also asked a question: Which is Kris Kringle’s favorite reindeer? I am sorry, but I cannot answer that simply, because there is no Simple Answer! Just like we Elves, Santa’s reindeer come from long family lines, each with its respective strengths that serve us well. The names so familiar to Big Folk below—Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, and Rudolf, of course—are but one generation of reindeer representing countless deer before and after! In their day, Dasher and Comet were the fastest bulls and urged the other six to fly at great speed; Dancer and Prancer were the nimblest of cows, and could bring the Sleigh to halt atop the smallest and steepest of Rooftops; Cupid and Vixen were older, wiser cows that balanced out the dauntless courage of Donner and Blitzen, two bulls who would fly headlong into a Blizzard if it meant a child’s smile. And Rudolf, of course: That miracle buck (bull, rather) whose snout enlightened the gloom of a wet, grey Christmas Eve was gifted supernaturally for the task at hand. Asking Father Christmas to choose a favorite reindeer is like asking him to choose a favorite Child: It cannot be done, because each is a Miracle in his or her Own Right!

I hope that is satisfactory. Alas! The sand in the glass is spent, and I am still writing. I must close now, or this letter will not be delivered! A very Happy Christmas to you all!

Yours Still and Always,

Q

Siberius Quill

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XVI

Christmas 2018

My dearest children,

How very Strange it must feel to age as swiftly as Your Kind! We elves mature slowly, live long, and are by and large born into our Trades, which we Practice and Perfect for decades stretching to centuries, all here at the North Pole. But you: You must grow up and decide in No Time at All what to do with yourselves, learn All You Can in a few short years, and do your best to make a Way for yourselves in the Wider World. It brings a Tear as much as a Twinkle to my eye, as it must for your Dear Parents, to see you grow and leave the proverbial Nest.

But my, what Fine Fledglings you are! Master Brendan, woolly and bearded as old Lewis’s Tumnus, nearly finished with your first degree and with dear Miss Wilke by your side, on the cusp of so many Possibilities and Horizons; Master Gabriel, tall and straight as an aspen, traveling the roads and sharing the Good News like the Apostles of old; the beautiful Miss Emma, ever the elf, spreading Holiday Cheer throughout the year just as We do: with thoughtful Gifts, kind Words and only the best Baked Goods; and Master Trevor—in High School already?—with such talent and love for Music that all the Day-Watchers prefer Seamus Farseer to check in on you in the morning, before School, to hear you play and progress on the piano!

And then, of course, is Lovely Miss Lily: sharp and smart and quite Elfin yourself, with your Pixie cut and eyes like Dark Pools beneath a moonlit sky. It is a Blessing for me and your parents both to have a youngling with such enthusiasm for All Things Christmas as well as a Love of Toys, which are still very much in Our Wheelhouse, as your Father would say. You sent no questions with your Note to Santa, but you mentioned to your Dad that you wondered whether that white-bearded Wonderworker would know you wanted a Vikings shirt even though you forgot to mention it! Your parents took care of that for you, but the answer is, Of course He knows! He always knows!

Not only is the Watcher Corps well aware of all such Wants and Conversations, but should Things change drastically in the Last Hours before Christmas (or Heaven forbid, we Elves make a mistake—for we are no more Perfect than you Big Folk!), the Swifters sweep into action. These the most fleet-footed and stealthy of Elves make Emergency Switches and Last-Minute Deliveries, unseen by even the keenest of eyes of night-bird or -beast! The first Swifters were Flit Golightly, a skilled and silent Hunter with bow and blade, even on the open tundra, and his fiancée, Feather Fletcher. Late in your 19th Century, the two delivered several forgotten Gifts one Christmas morning even as the Sun rose in the East, and No One below the Circle was the wiser! Their firstborn, Flint, was as lead-footed and clumsy as our Kind come, but remains a master Bowyer and Arrow-wright in his Mother’s line; his younger twin siblings, Felix and Felicity, now handle last-minute deliveries in the Wee Hours!

Such stories I could tell, had I the time to Ramble—but alas (and at last), it is Christmas Eve! Perhaps your Father and I should collaborate again on a story? A Pipe and a Pint would help matters, but we are Not Allowed to meet Your Kind face-to-face, or what would it mean to Believe? Faith, then, children, and a Very Happy Christmas to you all!

Yours Still and Always,

Q

Siberius Quill

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XV

Christmas 2017

My dearest Children,

Has it been Another Year already? Your parents have no doubt shared how quickly Time Flies as one gets older—imagine, then, the heady speed for one as Old as I am! And human Children grow and change so fast: Master Brendan, as steadfast, woolly, and bearded as a Bison; Master Gabriel, sharp and penetrating as a Hawk; Emma, lovely and joyful as a Lark in spring (even in winter!); Master Trevor, as shaggy and ravenous as a winter Wolf—and Miss Lily, as fickle as Reindeer calf, now bucking with your herdmates, now gazing wide-eyed at the Auroras, now nestled near your mother as the Wild World goes by. Ah, but it does my Heart good to see your Family flourishing!

And you’ve added a puppy to the mix! A brave thing, to be sure—puppies (and Airedales in particular) are not for the Faint of Heart! But Eugenia and Hawthorne Mushardy assure me that with patience, a firm hand, and lots of love your Bruno will join the ranks of Boomer and Puck as the very Definition of a Good Dog—and I know of no better judge of Canis familiaris than they! Gee was a Deervermer before they married and worked with Doc Vendy to keep our working packs healthy, while Haw mushed, hunted and trapped alongside Spurius Longwind, the Woodsman and Teller of Tall Tales you’ve no doubt heard about!

You asked no questions of me this year, Miss Lily, which must mean your Siblings and Parents are doing a fine job explaining All Things Christmas! Nonetheless, I will share a bit more with you: On the Feast of St. Nicholas, you left a note and picture for the Old Man, assuring him you had been Good this year and sharing a lovely picture you drew. While we always love notes, letters, pictures and other Handiwork from Your Kind, let me assure you that you needn’t worry: our Watcher Corps has seen you from afar and Knows Well the content of your Character. Indeed, your family—having achieved a certain age and stability—has recently been assigned to one of our Watchers-In-Training. Currently a first-year, Iris Stargazer, keeps tabs on you, Lily. Young Iris has a keen eye and a good heart, but a wandering mind, which makes a generally Good Girl like yourself the Perfect Charge until she finds her focus!

And now I must go: My maternal great-grandfather, Papyrus Parchment, is not long for this World, and with our work done tonight, the entire Clan will be gathered for his Passing. It was old Pappy who began the Wrapping of Presents, and it was he who founded our Paper Mill for the production of everything from list-rolls and gift wrap to boxes and tags! He even began recycling paper well before your pulpwrights Down Below, and for long decades now, has sent elfin Separators south to glean and gather reusable wrap from trashcans and dumpsters Down There. Oh, you may still tear into your presents, Young Ones—we even recycle the scraps and tatters…but it’s not entirely true when they say, “We aren’t going to save the paper.” Perhaps you aren’t, but We are!

Old Pappy—we will miss him, but he was as faithful and true as they come; the divots in the kneeler match those in his knees, as they say. He is bound for Heaven, I am sure—if I leave this World and miss him still, it’s my own fault.

Have a very Merry Christmas and a blessed New Year!

Yours Still and Always,

Q

Quill

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XIV

Christmas 2016

My dearest children,

Joy and Peace to you on the Feast of the Incarnation! It is a Wonder that, in a world of glitz and gadgets, a lone candle burning bright can still draw our gaze, and the mystery of the Babe in the Manger can still make the most restless heart skip a beat. Such is the power of Our Lord, which exceeds even St. Nick’s.

And what Child is this, whose curiosity about All Things Christmas has yielded not one, not two, but four Questions this year—and two of which I’ve never answered before for your family! Lovely Miss Lily, you have at last arrived at the age at which the Magic of the Season bubbles over and colors everything it touches a bright red and deep green. I shall do my best to answer, and may Santa find no fault in my explanations.

You only actually wrote down two of your questions, and the first is the hardest: Does Rudolph really guide Santa’s sled? Your Dad believed so when he was young and was almost ready to come to blows over this question, so I do not take it lightly! But you should know that parts of this Tale are debated even here at the North Pole!

The short answer is No: the young buck called Rudolf (technically a bull, not a buck) lived many years ago, but has long since died and gone back to grass. He would be an Old Deer, indeed, were he still pulling the sleigh today! Others have since taken his place, as they have for Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, et al—but all of this, of course, is lost to your world in the Timelessness of Christmas!

Was there ever a Rudolf? Certainly!—and all elves agree that one dismal, damp, and gray Christmas Eve long ago, when visibility was almost zero and navigation nearly impossible, this particular reindeer manifested a peculiar light from his snout, which pierced the gloom so that the other Reindeer and the Man in Red could find their way. Being quite young and not full-grown, he was not among the Eight planned to pull that night, but was added at the front by our harness-maker, Theodore Doubletree, who had his work cut out for him making a collar and harness on short notice. (Hence the shorter spelling of Rudolf, with an F instead of a PH—no one had ever written the name until old Tuggs hurriedly stamped it in leather!)

But according to Rangifer Deervermer, Santa’s original herdmaster, he was not an outcast as the Song and Film suggest. He was indeed the most playful of reindeer—strangely fond of games, in fact—and as a young deer would chase and kick a red ball all around the yard and encourage the other reindeer calves to do the same! And he was always drawn to light—Christmas lights, lanterns, candle-light, fire—you name it, he was there at a run. So it made sense that, when this sort of Miracle was needed, Rudolf would be the one to deliver!

This story might raise a final question: was he born with a glowing red nose? This, my dear children, I cannot answer precisely. Some say his nose always glowed—they swear to have seen it!—while others claim it was the work of the Miracle Corps on that particular Christmas. Old Jiffy (Rangifer, that is) won’t say, and neither will Buoyancy Castor, whose incantations are responsible for getting our reindeer off the ground. Both wisely say that there is no explaining Miracles, or they wouldn’t be Miracles!—and both hint that if a glowing nose is needed, whether to help Kris Kringle see or to help a child believe—it will be provided. So if you see a red glow in the sky some Christmas Eve, it may well be your very own Rudolf, come to visit!

Onward, then! Your second question, Miss Lillian, was, Does Santa have a telephone? In a word, no—at least, not one he regularly uses or that children like yourself may call. However, there are many phone lines (like the one you’ve no doubt heard about on your Father’s radio) by which we elves and Father Christmas gather information about the wants and needs of children like Yourself—so phone calls to our many “Santas” in your world certainly help the real Gift-Bringer know what to bring!

Your final two questions, Little One, were spoken, not written—and have been answered by me in past letters. You asked how Santa gets into people’s houses, and how we know what your Questions are. I will give you the quick answers, and leave the longer explanations for Master Brendan to look up in past letters. St. Nicholas goes where he wills, in whatever form is required: a tall and saintly bishop, a plump and fur-clad toymaker, a wisp of Christmas Spirit swirling on a winter breeze. Doors and locks are no obstacle for him—a chimney, a vent, or even a keyhole is as good as a doorway if he wishes to enter! And Santa has an entire Corps of elfin Watchers, whose sole job is to keep an eye on children and families and track their behavior, questions, and needs. They never miss a trick, those Watchers, so always be on your Best Behavior!

And you have! Once again, the entire Thorp Gang has been nothing short of a Joy and Pleasure to behold this year—oh, each of you have had your Moments when the sweetness of Life seems sour and you spit it back at each other or your Parents. But you are only Human, after all, and even we Elves bicker at times! Master B, it is as your Father says: the University in Bismarck is magnifying the best in you, and diminishing the worst. Let Monsignor and Company continue their work! Master Gabriel, know that Fr. Lamplighter and all the Sisters of Our Lady of Perpetual Winter are praying for your vocation, whether priest or husband—and asked me remind you that God wills only the Good for you. (Remember that, when young Master Trevor passes you in height!) Miss Emma and Master T: do continue to make Music and raise a Joyful Noise unto the Lord—I have no doubt He loves it, as do we Elves, when we tune in!—and continue to spread joy and laughter wherever you go. Both are in short supply in this tilted World!

Finally, Miss Lillian: thank you, Dear One, for sharing your tremendous Christmas Spirit with those around you—both as a five-year-old Lover of Santa and Presents and as the Virgin Mary in your Christmas Play the other night. Always remember that even St. Nicholas kneels before the Babe in the Manger—this Great Day marks the birth of Our Lord Jesus Christ, and no gift is greater than He!

Merry Christmas, my friends, and a very Happy New Year!

Yours Still and Always,

Quill

The Terrible Caribou Flu Is Available Now!

Amazon delivered early! Siberius Quill Presents: The Terrible Caribou Flu is now available for as an e-Book for Kindle—just in time for Christmas. It tells the story first outlined by Quill in a letter to my children back in 2009, of a Christmas that almost wasn't, and two unlikely animals that may have replaced the reindeer had they not been cured in time!

This our first venture into self-publishing and was finished very quickly on Christmas Eve Day, so if you see any errors or run into any problems, please let us know. 

And yes, the price is higher than expected, but the proceeds will be going to our local St. Vincent de Paul chapter. Merry Christmas, all!

It's Done! (But Not Quite Ready...)

Siberius Quill Presents: The Terrible Caribou Flu has been published as a Kindle book to Amazon.com! Unfortunately—as this is an experiment—we've learned two things we had not expected:

1. It can take up to 72 hours for the story to be reviewed and actually appear on Amazon. Quill and I will let you know the moment it appears!
2. For best visibility (and for any sort of reasonable royalty from Amazon), we need to sell this story for $2.99. Since this is more than we anticipated charging, we have decided that any proceeds will go to charity.

As a reward for your patience, Quill said I could share with you his original cover art. Quill admits he is not an artist, but it captures a bit of the story beautifully!

(And if all goes as it has for the past 13 years, we'll have a letter to share tomorrow!)

Update on the Eve of Christmas Eve

Well, dear Readers, I have done what I could, and the Story is in Master Thorp's hands now. I must admit, the Tale grew long and complicated in the telling, and I pray he will be able to mold it into Something Reasonable. I have little doubt it will be ready for you to Read and Enjoy soon, and I sincerely Hope you do!

Now, as this is my Very Busiest time of year, I must return to my correspondence. Christmas comes, and quickly!

Yours Still and Always,

Quill

Answers to Questions...

Master Quill's post after Thanksgiving raised a few questions we thought I should answer here.

• When and where will the full-length story "The Terrible Caribou Flu" be available? We will be publishing it on Amazon for Kindle—our goal is by Christmas Eve.
• How much will it cost? Not free, but not much. Quill's goal is to get these stories out, and the reality is that free books and stories draw far less attention than those that cost even a little. Plus he insists I get something for my time, and I'd rather not draw from Santa's reserves!
• Will we be able to purchase a hard copy of the story? At this time, no. I have no way of creating one myself, and Quill has only been allotted so much time away from his "day job" to produce these stories—and none with the Bookbindery!
• What about your family's letters? Will those be available? They already are, on this site! But as a bound volume? Maybe someday, but not yet.
• Quill has answered lots of questions about Santa and the North Pole—any thoughts about creating a Q&A here on this site for families with similar questions? That's a great idea! If the story progresses well in the next week or so, I'll try to pull that together.

If you have other ideas for this site, or other questions about the story, let me know in a comment below!

A Glimpse at the Work In Progess!

Dear Reader: What follows is a Sneak Peek at the tale we are working up for you this Holiday Season! It is the story of a Christmas that Almost Wasn't—when most of the reindeer came down with Caribou Flu and no one knew how the Old Man's sleigh would take to the skies. We had hoped to have it done today, but Time has conspired against us. With the prayers of the Good Sisters of Our Lady of Perpetual Winter, we'll have an e-story by Christmas!

Read on, and wet your whistle—much more will be coming soon!

Yours truly,

Siberius Quill

* * * * *

In a snug room in the back corner of the barn and stables, Hiram Deervermer slept soundly, his snores rattling the latch of the heavy plank door. Old Hitch, as he was known among his friends and family, had been chief herdsman and head of the Stable Corps for long years now, since the retirement of his great-grandfather Rangifer, and had lived at the stables since the untimely passing of his wife, Cervidia. He was stout for an elf, nearly as wide as he was tall, balding and beardless, but with magnificent black mutton-chops on both cheeks, and the same sparkling blue eyes of his sister’s sons.

Silas rapped on the thick door with his knuckles and called out, “Uncle Hiram?” A snore shook the door in reply.

He knocked again and called louder: “Uncle Hiram!” No response at all. He banged the door with the side of his fist. “Hey! Uncle Hiram! Wake up!”

From behind the door, Silas heard a grumble and the groan of old bedsprings, then silence. “Uncle Hiram?” he called. A snore like the snarl of a wolverine was followed by the deep and peaceful breaths of slumber.

“HITCH DEERVERMER!” shouted Silas, pounding with all his might. “AY! HITCH! RISE AND SHINE!”

“Antlers in velvet!” cried the old elf. “At this black hour? Who pummels my door?”

“Your nephew, Uncle,” said Silas, grinning at his uncle’s grouchiness. “And all hours are black this time of year. It’s time for the morning feeding, and most of the herd is sick. Come quick!”

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XIII

Christmas 2015

My dearest children!

Greetings to you—and Sincere Prayers that neither this grey and muddy Winter nor the toppling of your tree as you were decorating has dampened your Christmas Spirit! Though your Father and eldest Brother had a time wrestling the Prickly Thing into a new stand, the old spruce looks Splendid and is holding its needles as well as can be expected given the Strain! Well done!

Another Christmas has arrived! It has been Quite Some Time since you Elder Children have asked a question about the Old Man—his Appearance and Ways, or How he does What he does. At long last, at the urging of your own old man, lovely Lily-bell has posed a deep question, indeed: “Why is Santa’s nose so weird?” Your Father wisely pressed her on this, thinking perhaps she thought it too Red or too Jolly, but she insisted that theinside of his nose was weird. No more would she say, and I fear that’s little to go on, though not quite Nothing. I shall make an Answer that I hope will satisfy. I have spoken to his personal Physician, Vitali Mendwell, from the elfin Hospital Corps, and verily, the inside of Kris Kringle’s nose is, in fact, strange by Mortal standards: without drip or drainage or unsightly Bogeys. Even here above the Circle, he never runs down, never catches Cold, never has so much as a sniffle—truly!

Why this is nobody knows for certain: Doc Vittles, as we call him, always credits diet; Muggsy and Froth at the Buttery says it’s his daily doses of Cocoa with cayenne and cinnamon in the morning and Peppermint Tea in the evening; and the good Sisters of Perpetual Winter insist that it’s his Jolly Sanctity—the joyous reward of a Life Well-Lived! I tend to side with the Sisters: more often than not they are right, and Sinter Klaas is a Saint, after all!

It is a Joy to watch you all continue to grow in the Virtues—Faith, Hope, and Charity—not to mention height! A towering Bunch you are, like a roving Forest to elfin eyes—and I am Blessed to be able to check in on you Now and Again. Do not forget our Correspondence, and encourage your youngest sibling in All Things Christmas: but especially the Peace that comes from Giving and Serving. Heaven awaits!

A Very Happy Christmas to you all!

Yours Still and Always,

Siberius Quill

Greetings from the North Pole, Part XII

Christmas 2014

My dearest children!

“Another turn around the Sun; another Year begun and done—just like that!” as our Head Astronomer, Nebular Farseer, would say. Just last week, he and Pendulus “Tick” Chronin were debating, over cocoa and gingersnaps, whether the years merely seem shorter or actually are. Your human Stargazers actually claim the years are lengthening by a millisecond or two each century; Tick claims we’re losing time, but Nebbs is on the fence—and each year, when the Chief Timekeeper marks the Year’s End on the Great Chronometer, Nebbs blames Tick’s itchy trigger-finger for any loss. 

Truth be told, it is conceivable that Tick’s finger is too fast. I’ve told you before that he is markedly slow for an Elf, save his eye and finger—and indeed, these traits runs in his family: his great-grandmother, Sedentary Chronin (née Scattershot), rarely left her little cottage, but was the Best Wingshot north of the Circle, and crack with a Rifle, too! Why, she was known to harvest wild Ptarmigans and snowshoe Hares out her bedroom window, then send Bob-Catchit, her half-Lynx housecat, to fetch them in for supper—truly!

So the Debate continues, year upon year, and Christmas Day has come again—a Much-Needed Feast, indeed, in this catty-whompus World! The Old Man has been jolly, as always, but has pressed us Elves most intensely this Winter—such a need there is for Peace and Goodwill as he has not seen in Many Centuries! Peace has been the particular prayer of our Good Pastor, Fr. Aloysius Lamplighter, too, this Advent, and may it resound the World ’Round. Amen!

I am, like your Dear Parents, so grateful these days for Miss Lily, who has kept your Family young and the Spirit of the Season bright in your Home. She is Spoilt, to be sure, but the Fault is no one’s—she can hardly spoil herself, and who can blame the Rest of you for falling prey to her Charms and dark eyes. Your Dad has suggested she might become a “Mary,” as she calls the good religious sisters of Your World. Whether ’tis true or not remains to be Seen, but Sr. Providence Goodpath, Director of Vocations of the Sisters of Perpetual Winter, has looked in on her and insists she will draw people to The Incarnation, regardless!

You elder four continue to persist in Goodness and grow in Virtue, year upon year; nevertheless we continue to look in on you. Master Brendan, I am struck by the Seriousness with which you are seeking your own Good Path and remind you to treat your Special Someone with the same or greater care than you show your Own Soul. Master Gabriel, I am impressed by your persistence in All you do and the Strength of your prayers, which echo both over the Earth and in Heaven, as well! For you, Miss Emma, there will always be room at the Inn, and welcome: your Music and your Baking warm the hearts around you, and your Beauty and Joy are infectious (in only the Best Way). Master Trevor, you are becoming a Fine Young Man with your own Callings and Interests. Strick Thumpertink, our Lead Percussionist, has heard you practicing—keep it up, and you’ll be welcome in our Drum Corps anytime!

Speaking of Time and the Flight of it, Marcus Milestone (Monitor’s son, who works Birthdays and other High-Sugar Special Occasions for the Watcher Corps) stopped by the Other Day to remind me on his Elder’s behalf that young Master Trevor has reached Double Digits this year—a Momentous Age, to be sure, and one I’m sure you’ll recall entails Special Responsibilities toward the Keeping of Christmas. Speak to your Father in a Quiet Moment, and he will, no doubt, explain. Marcus also noted Lily’s recent Birthday celebrations and was impressed by the Love shown by friends not her own. How kind they are to mark her Third Year in such a Splendid Fashion!

On that note: Bishop Nicholas trusts you will be Happy with your gifts this year, and gives his Blessing to you—which, from a Saint, is not Insignificant! A Very Happy Christmas to you all!

Yours Still and Always,

Siberius Quill


P.S. All of us here, but Dr. Vendy most of all, send our Condolences on the loss of your dear Schnauzer, Puck. He was the Very Definition of a Good Dog!

Greetings From the North Pole, Part XI

For several years, we received a Christmas letter from an Elfin correspondent, Siberius Quill. On Christmas 2013, we were in South Dakota and found the brief, handwritten note below. It offers us the first glimpse of Quill, as well...

It reads as follows:

Christmas 2013

My Dearest Children!

My apologies for the shortness of this message -- accidents happen, even at the North Pole! We were celebrating the Birthday of Brevity Parchment, & let's just say 1,171 candles and miles of tinsel and wrap do not mix! A more thorough update will follow soon -- look for it when you return home.

Quill


When we returned home, we found the letter below...

Christmas 2013

My dearest children!

Belated Season’s Greetings to you and your Family. Another year has come and gone in a twinkling, and I find myself writing belatedly to a brood of Thorplets (as your father would call you!) whom I scarcely recognize. How quickly the five of you are growing, and how Helpful and Wise for ones so young! We elves live for many centuries, so the Rapid Progression of humanity from Infancy to Adulthood never ceases to amaze. Scarcely do we know you, ’ere we are writing to your Children’s Children!

It is a bittersweet transition, as well, for as always I’ve watched and listened as often as I might, and not once in the Past Year have you elder four raised a Single Question about Kris Kringle, reindeer, or the Magic of the Season. Perhaps I have answered your past Questions too well, so that None remain, or perhaps your Faith is just that Strong—nevertheless, it has been with Great Joy that I’ve heard young Miss Lillian say “Santa Claus” and “Ho, ho, ho!” these past few days. My thanks to you for instilling in her the Wonder appropriate to her age at Christmas! Soon she may have questions of her own for me! 

By the time you receive this, you will have seen by your Gifts the weight of your Goodness this past year. My apologies again for the brief handwritten note on Christmas Day. (I hope the hasty self-portrait made up for it!) I promised a full account, and it follows: My maternal Grandfather, Brevity Parchment, whom I mentioned in my very first letter to your family, celebrated his eleven-hundred-and-seventy-first birthday on December the 23rd—an unusual milestone, to be sure, being neither a nice Round Number of decades or centuries, nor abnormally Old for most Elfin families. In the case of the Parchments, however, “Brevity” is more than just a name—Papa is the seventh Brevity in the line, all of whom have worked in Tags and Greetings, and all of whom have passed to the Next Life all of a Sudden when aged 1,170 years. (This is no sad thing; we Elves know well that this current Life, however long, is merely a Stepping Stone to a more wondrous world, so we have none of the Dread that accompanies the thought among so many of Your Kind!)

So on the Eve of the 22nd, as our seventh Brevity was about to outlast his elder Namesakes, we threw a tremendous Birthday Party. All the Elves from all the Divisions were there, with the Elfin Choir and the Sisters of Our Lady of Perpetual Winter leading our favorite Songs and Carols, and a cake baked by the Mrs. Claus herself. And such a cake! The only place with tables enough to support so many acres of fresh-baked Sweetness was the Wrapping Gallery, and then, only with all the paper pushed to the sides and all Tables pushed together at the center! The young Chief Engineer of our North Pole Lighting Corps, Wick Talloswerth, conspired to ignite simultaneously 1,171 birthday candles stuck at intervals across the Massive Expanse of frosting. It was an audacious attempt and worked flawlessly—for a long moment, Papa Parchment’s kindly old eyes shone with the light of a Thousand and More candles gleaming just for him! But some of the Younger Elves had filled Countless Containers with confetti and tinsel and balanced them among the rafters to dump down upon the Revelers at party’s end, and the roar of Laughter than accompanied Papa’s attempts to blow out So Many Candles caused several of the buckets to toppled from their perches, and their contents to ignite! Every attempt to reach and extinguish the Fire at the center of a Roomful of Cake further shook the rafters and dislodged more of the Celebratory debris—and so the Fire spread, candle to tinsel to confetti to wrap, until the building itself ignited. By the time Reginald Meltwater, the captain of the Fire Brigade, and his men escaped the party and returned to battle the Blaze, it had spread the Mailroom, destroying Countless cards and letters.

Old Red felt badly that the Party, the Wrapping Gallery, and the Mailroom were a loss, but Papa was no worse for all the excitement of the evening, and went right to work alongside the rest. With just two days to work, we Correspondents were scrambling to get any letters out at all—but he and his best Versewrights and Calligraphers pitched in to be sure that Everyone who expected a letter received one! 

And with that, my Story and my Letter are both complete. A Very Happy Christmas to you all!

Yours Still and Always,

Quill

Greetings from the North Pole, Part X

Christmas 2012

My dearest children!

Rejoice! Christmas Day has arrived at long last—although I suspect your Loving Parents feel much as I do this year: as if Christmas Eve has approached like the Jolly Old Man himself, in sparkling silent magic, at night and unawares. For them, the Mad Rush of work, extra-curriculars, illnesses, and birthdays leading up to your trip to Michigan has made it Impossible to Think, much less to Prepare or Plan. You may have notice them moving through these last few days as in a Thick Frost (we have so little Fog up here that it is nearly impossible for an Elf to think in such terms), dazzled, dazed, and in need of the proverbial “Long Winter’s Nap.” I spoke to one of our Boosters in the Parental Relief division, Miss Conscientious Heartner, and she acknowledged that an Early Thanksgiving in the United States, followed by a foreshortened Advent and the Sleepless Nights resulting from constant flutter and song of your Baby Sister have conspired against your Mother and Father. Be gentle with them, elder Children, in all the ways little Lillian cannot!

As for me, I have less reason to have been Caught Off-Guard by Christmas—and at the same time, Significantly More. The terrible Arctic Cold Snap that has descended upon Russia in recent days spent several Long Dark Weeks building layer upon layer above us here at the North Pole. In the deepening cold and howling winds, our Shops were drifted over, making the simple act of Getting to Work an arduous chore; meanwhile, our Ptarmigan Coops blew clear of snow, leaving the nests rocky and uninsulated, so that Every Available Hand was deployed to preserving Mrs. Claus’s flock and eggs. Just as we completed a windbreak that funneled the drifting snows back into the Coop, the local fauna began to appear, seeking shelter, for they know well that the Kringles are great Friends of Beasts and will not turn away even the most couthless Norwegian rat in need. Thus we had a bit of a reindeer reunion—the Night-Flyers and their Wild-Runner cousins—plus a sleigh-house packed full
of cheerfully surly polar bears (who, though peaceful enough when the cocoa is flowing, are polar bears, after all), clever arctic foxes, and cunning white wolves curled by the fire.

By the time we had All Creatures Great and Small situated on the place and Dr. Vendy Deervermer making the rounds, it was Gaudete Sunday...and we of the Letter Corps had written nothing. We were quite at a loss for how to Catch Up, until Bounteous Chronin, (Tick’s grandson, who is built like a boulder and serves as Captain of the Continuum Guard) had a marvelous idea! Old Bounce suggested we ask we ask the Mathematimagicians for a Hall Pass into the Worm-Hole—Santa’s very own Gateway to the Space-Time Continuum. The passes were granted immediately, and we soon found ourselves writing our letters altogether outside of time, awake and inexhaustible, in parallel with our Other Selves from various Other Dimensions. We worked quick as lightning, though I will admit it is a bit disconcerting to meet one’s-self coming and going, delivering letters one is only beginning to
write, and the like. I was quite beside myself!

And long-winded, by the looks! I shall permit myself to spill onto a second page, if only to amend this account of our Long Winter with my Personal Greetings. Master Brendan, I am glad to see you upright and eating again. I know it isn’t easy to be 15 (or 150) year old and confined to bed-rest—Be Well, and stay that way, for I so enjoy watching you strive and succeed, at home and school, work and wrestling! Master Gabriel, I remain struck by your persistent Humor, Faith, and Courage in the face of a ramshackle world toward which these are the only appropriate responses. They have been in Short Supply in recent weeks! Master Trevor, you have grown much in the past year, and have become such a Bright and Helpful boy! Work hard when tasked with a chore or to-do, and you will find your focus. (Oh, yes: and Clean Your Ears!)

As for you, Miss Emma Rose, you have blossomed into quite the lovely young lady—and having reached the decade mark, you (like your Elder Brothers) have new roles to play in All Things Christmas. Have you guessed? If so, whisper it to your Mother and Father in a quiet moment sometime soon; if not, speak to them in Private upon your return to Minnesota. And one last thing: squeeze Miss Lillian for me! (Such a precious girl, and so unfiltered—has it been a year already?!)

What a ramble! Ah, well...I believe it will serve for now. A Very Happy Christmas to you all!

Yours Still and Always,
Siberius Quill