I have been thinking lately of all the wonderful stories that my grandparents would tell me as a child for bedtime stories, and at other times. I miss these stories and legends. I just saw Handsel and Gretel which reminded me of an old story I'd like to reprise that went like this...
Prologue
What if the Christmas tale was as simple as:
Claus stood upon the rise, staff in hand, and asked the
Gatekeeper, "May I pass?"
"No, but I can sell you a Christmas card for $5.99
will that do?"
And what if there were more legends and tales to tell,
about Santa, and his role in bringing gifts to humankind.
The Cheapening of Oral Tradition
(c) 2013
Upon
the stony rise the legendary warrior near met his match, such was the howling
wind, and the banshee fury from the north whose chill touch virtually tore the
life from his human skin. Claus
(pronounced: Clow +ss) was a warrior, and a man of legend. And he was a man and a mission and would not
let ice, nor sleet, nor snow stop his climb up the steep cliff. Yet this was the only pass that led into the
Vale of Winter's Night beyond for many many miles.
He trode forward pushing his
virtuous and virile face to the wind.
It had been Summer from the land he had come from. In his hand the mighty staff of Sigdis, that
the sage of his hamlet had leant him.
He had been young when he had started his path, beyond the rises of
Krodor, near the beautiful Homlin's Vale.
It was indeed the most scenic place in all the lands of the One
Kingdom.
At last he came upon the
gate, and found a tale figure standing nearby.
Neither man nor woman, young nor old.
The large figure with spidery fingers stood, guarding the way to the
warrior's fate.
Before Claus could say a word the stranger figure spoke. His voice boomed through the land in a deep
bass, yet fingers of a wise humanity also echoed through its strange
music. "Who is it that
comes."
"It
is I, Claus, warrior of Homlin Vale."
"And
why, should I let you pass, Claus? I
know all things so do not lie to me?"
"Who
are you then, that I should answer you?"
"I
am the guardian to this gate to the kingdom.
And if you don't answer truthfully I will see to it that you shall never
face."
Claus
ran his fingers over the surface of his enchanted staff. Brute force might teach this sappy
spiderling a lesson, yet diplomacy, he had found was a sweeter brew to suckle
on.
Claus
answered, "I am Claus, a warrior.
I have come because an ancient legend told me that I must face the Ice
Queen in the land's past Kordor, past Kingdom of the Shade, I might find the
Vale of Winter's Night, that leads to the lands beyond."
"The
legends do not speak of a battle."
"'I
wish that my lands must always remain winter,' The Good King, Weincelaus told
me. "And thus he sent me force to destroy that fell Witch whose icy hands
clutch my land in ice and snow, and all life is turned to death when her dark
embrace falls upon my land."
"Not
all die. Humans do not."
"Yet
we must suffer. No seeds may be sown,
the bitter winds make it almost impossible to travel, we must burn fires that
harm our lungs. And the cold is most
unbearable we would all say."
"And
you think defeating her will stay this plague upon your lands?"
"Yes
it will, and by defeating her I will increase my lot, and win the hand of a
fair maiden."
"Yes,
certainly a maiden will you fall for.
And how do you know I am not in league with those beyond."
"Those
beyond would not bar the icy pass that will suck the life out of most mortal
men. The path so far has been a
battle. I would expect all who enter
might die, as only dark things leave the entrance."
"It is not as cold in there as Canada, but it is
quite cold. And you speak sagely. I keep things out. But you I will let in, if only in time to be defeated."
Even
as the guardian moved to let him through the gate, Claus spat upon the
ground, "The orcish knaves that
dogged my path, near Krondor did I slay them.
And the wolves have harangued me on the way. Yet I have been led in day by the morning's light, and in night
by the light of the moon. So I have had
my allies thus far. I don't need you or
your league of temperance."
"No,
the bottle will be your sage if you enter there. But mayhap something good will come of your demise, and so I will
let you through."
"You
are the strangest to think I would die without a fight."
"I
will not fight you, certainly."
There was a mild howl in the wind, and I took that for a chuckle.
