16: Dear Santa

With Halloween over, there were only two more weeks of classes before the final exam. No one yet knew what form the exam would take and when students asked, they were simply told that the details would be forthcoming. By now everyone had had a chance to visit the various resorts and safari companies. Everyone had been given instructions on reindeer sleigh rides, snowmobiles, husky sledding and snowshoe walking and the students were as proficient as they were ever going to be, though they were assured that once they started working as guides on a daily basis they would do just fine.

Glorfindel especially enjoyed the husky sledding lessons. He thrilled at the utter silence with which the huskies pulled the sleds and commented to Daeron that he wished they had had such a means of transportation when they were crossing the Helcaraxë.

“It would have saved a lot of time,” he said to the minstrel as the two unhitched the dogs from the sled they were using during their practice run.

“Obviously,” Daeron replied with a smile.

With the tours to the resorts and safaris completed, Tuesdays and Thursdays were now open for the students to help out with answering children’s letters to Santa. Students were assigned the task on a rotating basis, and when they were not working at the post office they would be helping to set up the Christmas Market. This was in Wiseman’s main square. People were encouraged to buy gifts for families experiencing financial difficulties so that there would be at least one gift for each child and adult in the family. Wish lists were collected from various social agencies and distributed to the townspeople. The students were charged with collecting and wrapping the gifts and making sure that they were correctly labeled. There was also a collection of food, including turkeys, to provide Thanksgiving baskets for these same families. They would be doing the same thing for Christmas later in December.

The week after Halloween, in groups of about twenty, the students made a visit to the most important place of all: Santa’s Grotto. All the holiday packages that the resorts and safari companies offered included a visit to the grotto to meet Santa. This was an artificial cave built in the middle of a forest in a more or less central location to all the different resorts. It was important that all the students knew where the path began for there would be no outward sign of its existence. The idea was to make it as exciting as possible for the children (and adults) to be led along the trail to the Grotto, pretending the path was secret and known only to the ‘elves’. While the clients would walk the trail in the late afternoon when it was full dark, the students were walking it in the morning with the sun still just above the horizon.

“So you can’t mistake this trail for anything else,” said a young man named Ed Kent, who was acting as their guide, showing them the signs they would need to look for to know where the path started. The trail, they were told, would be lit by candlelight.

“Elf-path,” Glorfindel muttered as they moved along the trail.

“What was that?” Shane asked as she walked beside him.

Glorfindel shook his head, clearing his mind of long-ago memories of Mirkwood. “Nothing. I was just thinking out loud. We should refer to this as an Elf-path and make it more mysterious than it really is.”

“I like that,” Shane said, “and the candles lighting the way we can call elf-lights.”

Glorfindel smiled at her. “Indeed,” he replied. Several students who had overheard their conversation nodded in agreement.

The path wound its way through the forest until it came to a small glade. Glorfindel looked about and saw that the grotto had been cleverly constructed to appear as natural as possible. At the grotto’s entrance were two torches burning on either side. It had been built in such a way that only one person at a time could enter and many of the taller students (including Glorfindel, who was the tallest) had to bend down to clear the lintel. Once inside though, the grotto opened up into a large round cavern. Before them they saw a richly carved wooden throne with red velvet cushions sitting on a two-step dais. Folding screens were set up behind the throne and on either side, hiding the back half of the cave. The screens depicted winter scenes having to do with Christmas and Santa.

“There are cots and a propane cookstove in the back for Santa and his helpers,” Ed told them. He folded one of the screens back so they could get a peek. Glorfindel saw four army cots along the back wall. To the right was the two-burner cookstove sitting on a cabinet that presumably held cooking utensils and foodstuffs. Next to this was another table on which sat a large cast iron kettle that Ed told them served as a sink. Snowmelt would be used for washing. In the middle of the room there was a small wooden table with benches. On their left they saw two port-a-johns. On the door of one someone had tacked a sign that read: SANTA; the other door had a similar sign that read: ELVES. They all snickered at that. The entire cavern was lit with candles in hurricane lanterns and Glorfindel could imagine the awe which the little ones would feel when they were led here. He was looking forward to seeing their eyes grow wide with wonder.

“Hello.”

Glorfindel and the other students in the group turned to see an older couple come into the cavern. The man was in his late sixties, Glorfindel guessed, with long white hair and beard that he realized were quite real. He was also fat, though not obese and the crinkles around his eyes bespoke of someone who laughed a lot. Beside him was a woman who looked to be a few years younger, perhaps in her late fifties or early sixties. She, too, had white hair and wore wire-rimmed glasses. She was plump and had a ready smile.

Ed made the introductions. “This is George Chandler and his wife, Abby,” he said. “They will be playing ‘Santa’ and ‘Mrs. Claus’.”

George reached out and began shaking hands with everyone. “We’re really excited about this,” he said. “Abby and I have been doing this for a few years now and to have real professional elves helping out will be a boon.”

“Oh yes,” Abby chimed in, nodding to everyone. “Before now our elves have usually been college students on Christmas break looking to earn some money, but most of them had no clue.”

“George and Abby are professional actors out of Fairbanks,” Ed explained. “During the Christmas season they come here and play Santa and the Missus for us.”

“So, when you bring your clients in, I’ll be sitting here,” George said, pointing to the throne, “and Abby will be standing over there. We will have hot drinks and gingerbread cookies ready for everyone. The resorts will give us a list of their clients and when they will be coming. I think the first group will be scheduled for just after sunset and the last group will come here around seven or so.”

“You’re going to be doing this every day?” someone asked.

George shook his head. “We trade off with two other couples who are also professional actors, so we’re only going to be here every third day. We start on the Saturday after Thanksgiving and then the final day will be the twenty-first. That’s twenty-four days, so we will be working eight days.”

“I noticed there were four cots,” Glorfindel said, pointing to the back of the grotto. “Why four?”

“We’ll have a couple of helpers with us,” George explained. “Not Elf Guides, but people from the town who will be here with us, helping to make the gingerbread cookies and bringing supplies. There’s an access road behind the grotto leading to Wiseman and supplies will come that way. We’ll only be working for about four hours a day entertaining the kids, but experience has taught us that it is wise to be here by noon to set up and the weather can turn suddenly. If we are forced to spend the night....” He gave them a shrug and a hearty laugh. “It does help to have your own cot to sleep in.”

The students snickered. After a few minutes more in which George explained how the students should conduct themselves when they brought their clients into the grotto and what the routine would be, they bade the couple good-bye. George and Abby waved enthusiastically from the grotto’s entrance as they retraced their steps back to where they had left the bus.

“So, that was Santa,” Shane said musingly.

“Well, one of them, at least,” Glorfindel said with a sly smile and Shane laughed, playfully hitting him on the arm. Glorfindel reached down and scooped up some snow and quickly made a snowball to throw at her. Shane squealed with laughter when it hit her and she was ready to counterattack almost immediately. The others in the group quickly caught on and before another minute had gone by they were all engaged in a riotous snowball fight. Their guide tried to get them to stop, but when Glorfindel neatly hit him in the face with a snowball, Ed’s eyes glowed with the light of revenge and he was soon throwing snowballs with as much abandon and glee as the rest. It was some time before they made it back to the bus, most of them wet with melting snow.

****

The other Elves eventually visited the grotto in their own groups and everyone commented on the experience.

“Elf-path and Elf-lights,” Elrohir said, looking amused when Glorfindel told them his and Shane’s idea. “Thranduil should have lit the forest road to his stronghold with candles. It would have made the journey so much nicer.”

They all laughed at that.

“Too bad they didn’t have us Elves help with the construction of the grotto,” Elladan said. “We could have built a doorway that opened only with a Word of Power. That would’ve impressed the Mortals to no end.”

Glorfindel gave the younger Elf an amused look. “And do you even know any Words of Power? Certainly none of the Mortals would be able to use it. There would have to be an Elf in every group and even then they would have to be taught the Words. Most Elves of my acquaintance had little experience with such things. Only the most powerful of our people ever employed them.”

“Including you?” Daeron asked, his eyes bright with mischief.

“Yes,” Glorfindel said shortly, all levity aside, “and the first time was a mistake that almost cost the lives of half the population of Eldamar, including all three kings and their queens.”

Daeron’s smile melted away and the others gave him sober looks. Glorfindel’s own mien was dark, his eyes stormy with memories and emotions to which the others could put no name.

“The first time?” Nimrodel asked softly.

Glorfindel looked at her, and she shuddered slightly at his expression, so cold and distant, but then he seemed to realize the effect he was having on his fellow Elves and his expression lightened somewhat as he gave her a shrug. “I’ve had to use them once or twice since,” was his only answer and the others were wise enough not to pursue the matter further.

****

When it was their turn to go to the post office, they found themselves herded into a back room where there were four long tables set up with seating for eight at each table. Before each chair was a stack of letters, perhaps six or seven. There were also sheets of fine white stationary, envelopes, and several pens of different colored ink.

“Take a seat,” said one of the postal workers whose name was Joan. She was in charge of collecting the letters to Santa that flowed into Wiseman’s post office.

When everyone had found a place, she pointed to a stack of letters at one of the tables. “We’ll start you off with these and when you are finished, just raise your hand. We’ll come along and collect the letters and give you some more.” Then she pointed to several large posters hanging on the walls where they could easily be seen by everyone regardless of their position. “This is what you will write.” Each poster had the same message, a standard reply to the letters that the children sent:

Dear (Child’s Name),

Thank you for your letter to Santa. As you know, Santa is very busy getting ready for Christmas, so he asked me to write to you. Santa will do his very best to fulfill your wishes. He thinks it would be a good idea if you also tell your mom and dad what you want. That will make your parents very happy.

Be good and may you have a merry Christmas.

Sincerely,

(Your Name)

Santa’s Head Elf

“In previous years,” Joan continued, “we would sign the letters ‘Mrs. Santa Claus’, but I understand that each of you have come up with an elvish-sounding name, so we thought it would be easier to have you just sign the letters with whatever name you came up with. We’ve made a concerted effort to make sure that letters written by children from the same family are together. It wouldn’t do to have two head elves, would it?” She gave them a wry look and they all chuckled.

“You have different colored flow pens and we have plenty more if you run out of ink. If you are good at calligraphy, go for it, but at least make it legible for the children’s sake. You have a regular pen to write the child’s address on the envelope. You will see that they are already stamped. To save on wearing out tongues, these envelopes are self-adhesive. Just remove the strip on the flap. Any questions? No. Then write away.”

Glorfindel picked up the first letter on his stack, opening the letter to see a childish scrawl. He smiled at the simple language telling Santa how good she had been and what she wanted for Christmas. It was signed ‘Your very best friend, Sandy Fairchild, age 8’.

He took one of the flow pens and placed one of the pieces of stationary before him. It had a letterhead depicting a scene of Santa’s workshop and underneath, ‘Santa Claus, North Pole’. Glorfindel carefully wrote out the letter, then signed his name. Giving the letter a once over he then added the anga tengwa to the right of his name, embellishing it with stars.

“Cool.”

He looked up to see Evan, who was seated across from him, leaning forward to get a look at the letter, giving Glorfindel a smile.

“Is it supposed to mean anything?” Evan asked.

“I guess it’s supposed to be a ‘g’ in the Elvish script,” Glorfindel said diffidently, as if he had just made it up on the spot. “I would imagine that Elves would have a different writing system than we do.”

Evan nodded. “That makes sense. Let’s see... I wonder what an ‘e’ for Eärendil would look like?” he mused.

“How about this?” Glorfindel said, taking the letter Evan had just finished writing and next to his Elvish name he drew the yanta tengwa, which looked a bit like an upside down ‘v’. “And then you can fancy it up however way you want,” he added. “Elves were lovers of stars, so that would be an appropriate embellishment, like I’ve done with mine.”

Now the other students at their table were taking a look at what Glorfindel had done with his letter and wanted to know with what Elvish letter their names would begin. Students at the other tables, including the other Elves, got up to see what all the fuss was about. Glorfindel gave Daeron a wry grin and the minstrel nodded.

“Why don’t we make up an Elvish alphabet that everyone can use?” he suggested, giving Glorfindel a significant look.

“That’s a good idea,” Glorfindel said on cue. “Here, I’ll make up a chart and then we can make copies at the copier out front. Anyone who wants a copy can chip in the dime.”

There was a chorus of agreement. Glorfindel used the back of one of the pieces of stationary and quickly drew the chart for the Beleriandic Sindarin mode, neatly labeling each tengwa with the appropriate English letter or, in some cases, combination of letters. In the meantime, Joan had come around to see what was going on and when Glorfindel explained she readily agreed to make copies for everyone.

“I’ll take the master copy back to the college and put it on the bulletin board in the cafeteria with an explanation of what it is,” Glorfindel said to the others while they were waiting for Joan to return. “Then anyone else who wants to can make a copy for themselves.”

Everyone thought it was an excellent idea and when they were handed their copy of the tengwar, they looked for their letter and spent a couple of minutes practicing writing it and deciding on how they wanted to embellish it. Then they all returned to the business of writing letters, but now they ended each letter with their personal ‘elf-sigil’ as one of the students put it.

During a break in letter writing, while everyone was standing around stretching, drinking cider and nibbling on molasses cookies provided by the post office personnel, Evan happened to be standing next to Glorfindel. “That’s real cool about the alphabet,” he said. “I can’t believe you made that all up just on the spur of the moment.”

Glorfindel refused to look at Daeron, who happened to be standing nearby, giving him a wide grin. “Oh, I’ve been thinking about it for quite some time now,” he said with a shrug. “You know, sort of wondering what my name would look like in Elvish. I’ve been doodling around with it for weeks now.”

“It’s a neat looking script,” Evan said. “I wonder what the elves would have called the letters though? Certainly not ‘ay’, ‘bee’, ‘cee’, ‘dee’ and so on.”

“Hey! Maybe we can come up with names for these elf-letters,” Shane suggested, coming over to join the conversation.

Daeron’s grin grew even wider and Glorfindel resisted a sigh. “I’m way ahead of you,” he said, going to his seat and neatly writing out the names of the tengwar underneath the English letter for each tengwa. By the time he was finished everyone wanted a copy. Glorfindel simply handed his copy to Evan.

“Write in the names on your copy and then pass it along,” he said and Evan quickly complied.

As the post office was closing up, Joan thanked them all for their help. “You guys are really taking this elf business seriously,” she said with a thin smile as she gathered up the last of the letters.

Shane shrugged. “Well, that’s what they’re paying us for,” she said and the other students chuckled as they filed out of the building and headed back to the college.

****

The wilderness survival outing that had been interrupted by the forest fire was rescheduled for the Wednesday after Halloween. All was going well until Zach managed to trip over a tree root hidden in the snow and nearly knocked himself out hitting the trunk of the same tree. He had a gash on his left temple that bled rather copiously and the students all clamored for the honor of practicing their first aid skills on him. In the end Ranger Pettingill had Glorfindel tend to the wounded young man who sat there cursing a blue streak for his clumsiness.

“J-just wh-wh-what I need!” he protested as Glorfindel pressed a coldpack on the gash.

“It’s not too bad,” Glorfindel said gently, speaking in the same tones that he remembered Lord Elrond using on the Dúnedain patients that had made their way to Imladris, the same tone he had employed countless times during his days in Search and Rescue. He removed the coldpack and gave the gash a clinical examination. “It will need stitches though.”

Zach groaned as Glorfindel turned to Pettingill who was looking over his shoulders. “Does Wiseman have a hospital or clinic? He’s going to need stitches.”

“The college clinic should do,” Pettingill said as he straightened. “Okay, listen up,” he said to the other students. “I’m going to take Mr. Austin and Mr. DelaFiore back to the college. Ranger Doran will take over.”

Francine Doran nodded and spoke up. “Okay, get into groups of three. One of you will begin making fire in the snow, another will construct a shelter using whatever materials are at hand, including the snow, and the third person in your group will collect berries and roots and anything else that’s edible. Decide who’s going to do what and....”

As the students complied to Ranger Dorans instructions, Glorfindel helped Zach to Pettingill’s jeep. The Mortal was woozy and Glorfindel thought he might have a concussion. He and Zach piled into the back of the jeep while Pettingill drove.

“Zach,” Glorfindel commanded, “keep awake.” He had noticed the young man was fighting to keep his eyes open. “Come. Tell me how to make fire in snow since we’re not going to get the chance to do it for real today.”

“That’s it,” Pettingill said, looking into the rearview mirror. “Keep him talking.”

Zach was reluctant at first but Glorfindel would not take no for an answer. “I’ll start out. First, you run to Home Depot and buy a propane stove and lots of waterproof matches and then....” Zach uttered a sound of protest and Pettingill snickered. “No?” Glorfindel asked innocently. “All right, then you tell me.”

“You either d-dig a hole in the snow and line it with a layer of sm-small-to-medium-sized sticks to protect the burning wood from melting snow, or if you have a fire pan....”

“And what’s a fire pan?” Pettingill asked as he turned onto the access road leading to Wiseman.

“It’s any flame-resistant metal pan with high sides to keep ashes and wood inside and you can lay it on rocks or logs,” Zach told them.

“So far so good,” Glorfindel said. “What kind of equipment do you need?”

“Hmm... an axe, waterproof matches or tinder in a zip-lock plastic bag and... um...” He gave a yawn and Glorfindel shook him.

“You’re doing fine,” he said. “Keep going.”

“And a snow shovel and....”

****

When they got to the clinic they had to wait for fifteen minutes. Glorfindel kept Zach talking, asking him about anything he could think of to keep the young man awake while Pettingill spoke to the nurse and filled out the necessary forms. As the head instructor at the time of the mishap, he was responsible for all the paperwork. Finally they were ushered into an examining room where the doctor took a look at the wound.

“Stitches for sure,” he said as he went to a cabinet to start preparing the necessary equipment. “We’ll just give you some novocaine....”

“I’m aller-lergic to novocaine,” Zach stuttered, looking suddenly pale.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “Well that makes things interesting.”

Glorfindel touched Zach on the shoulder and the Mortal looked at him. “I know a trick that will keep you from feeling any pain, if you will trust me.”

For a moment Zach just stared at him and then he nodded. Glorfindel turned to the doctor. “It’s a sort of hypnosis,” he explained. “It’ll only take a moment to implement.”

“Well, it’s highly irregular, though I’ve read about using hypnosis rather than drugs to keep a patient from feeling pain during a procedure. Very well. As it is, I would have to hunt for a substitute for the novocaine anyway and that will take a few minutes, so go ahead.”

Glorfindel nodded and turned back to Zach who was looking at him somewhat doubtfully. He smiled warmly. “There is nothing to fear, Zach,” he said softly as he put a forefinger on the Mortal’s forehead. “Just take a deep breath and let it out. That’s it. Again.” Then he began to sing an ancient lullaby, ignoring the astonished looks on the doctor’s and Paul’s faces. In a matter of minutes Zach’s eyes were glazing over. Glorfindel moved to sit next to him on the examining table before turning to the doctor with a nod. “He’ll feel no pain, but I suggest you do this as quickly as you can.”

The doctor grunted but complied and soon he was stitching up the gash. Zach never flinched. Though his eyes were wide open, it was obvious to the others that he did not see them. “What is he seeing?” Paul asked.

“A pleasant memory where there is no pain,” Glorfindel replied, keeping his eye on Zach, monitoring him on a deeper level than any medical instrument of Man’s devising. “He is reliving it as if he were actually there.”

Five minutes later the doctor declared that he was done. “I think we’ll keep him here for the night for observation,” he said as he cleaned his instruments.

Glorfindel nodded as he leaned forward and whispered into Zach’s ear, bringing him out of his state. The Mortal blinked several times before he was able to focus on the here and now. “Is it over?” he asked, tentatively reaching up to feel the stitches. Glorfindel grabbed his hand and pulled it down.

“Yes, it is,” he said. “The doctor is going to keep you overnight for observation.”

Zach grimaced. “Do I have to wear that stupid hospital gown?”

The other three men laughed. “I’ll go back to our room and grab some stuff for you,” Glorfindel offered and the doctor nodded.

“How are you feeling?” he asked Zach, checking his vitals. “Any pain? I can give you some ibuprofen if you need it.”

Zach shook his head slightly. “No pain,” he replied. “Actually, I’m feeling hungry, which is odd because breakfast wasn’t that long ago.”

“Not odd at all, but a very good sign,” the doctor said with relief. “Let’s find you a bed and I’ll order you some lunch. I think it’s chicken noodle soup and tuna fish sandwiches. How does that sound?”

Zach nodded. “Sounds good, just so long as I don’t have to wear that stupid gown.”

“I’ll go get your stuff right now,” Glorfindel said, standing. “I’ll be back shortly.”

He and Pettingill exited the room, leaving Zach with the doctor and a nurse who had come in at the doctor’s call.

“An interesting trick,” Pettingill said to Glorfindel as they were making their way out of the clinic. The ranger had offered to drive him over to the Academy and Glorfindel had accepted.

“It works,” Glorfindel said, “or at least, most of the time. I used to employ it when I was in Search and Rescue, usually when dealing with hysterical people, children especially.”

“I can see how that would be beneficial when you’re trying to rescue someone,” the ranger said with a smile and Glorfindel smiled back.

****

Everyone wanted to visit Zach at the clinic and several of his friends banded together to buy him a miniature potted Christmas tree decorated with ribbons and miniature ornaments from a local florist as well as a chocolate Santa from the Fanny Farmer shop in town. Glorfindel stopped at a toy store and selected a stuffed reindeer toy with a red nose, which brought much laughter to all who saw it.

“Just in case you need a friend during the night,” Glorfindel said, and only the other Elves knew that he was being serious.

Zach thanked everyone for their gifts, but they could tell he was somewhat upset. “The doc says it’ll be a couple of weeks before the stitches come out,” he groused when someone asked him what was wrong. “How can I be an elf looking like this?”

Elrohir smiled. “Just tell people you were in a battle against evil monsters attempting to destroy Santa’s workshop.”

“What sort of monsters?” Zach asked, intrigued in spite of himself.

Elrohir shrugged. “I don’t know. Make something up. Murderous snowmen led by Frosty who’s turned evil because he’s wearing the wrong hat.”

That set everyone laughing and they spent several minutes elaborating on the ellon’s words, coming up with more absurd ideas of who would attack Santa’s workshop and what role Zach as ‘Finrod’ played in the battle. By the time the nurse came along to shoo everyone out, Zach’s attitude was more positive.

“I’ll come by tomorrow after breakfast and pick you up,” Glorfindel told Zach as he was leaving. “I think you should spend the day quietly resting.”

“I was looking forward to answering letters to Santa,” Zach said with a sigh.

“We’ll see how you’re feeling tomorrow,” Glorfindel replied. “If you don’t overdo it, I guess it’ll be all right. Have a good night.”

“Thanks, Loren,” Zach said with all sincerity. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

“As am I,” Glorfindel said warmly. “See you in the morning.”

****

Note: The anga tengwa is No. 7 and is used for ‘g’ in Sindarin. The yanta tengwa is No. 35 and is used for ‘e’ in the Beleriandic mode of Sindarin.