| |
By Winter’s Light the children were fully recovered and excited for the feast Pascal and Mallow cooked together. The small house rang with their chatter and laughter. Pascal hung stockings for Mallow and her children on the mantle. Mallow raised her eyebrows at that but Pascal just grinned.
“Santa will be here sometime tonight,” he stated.
“Elves call this night Christmas Eve, and you call it Winter’s Light. But they are not so different.”
“Many years ago, according to your ancient Mother’s Book, Santa was once your Santa, too. So I don’t think it is undwarfish to celebrate some of my traditions.”
He then told the children all about Santa and about Christmas being a time for giving gifts to your loved ones, a time to celebrate family and friends.
After a meal of Pascal’s cheese soup, crusty bread and roasted goose, Mallow led her small children through the Winter’s Light ceremony, dousing the fireplace and every light, then rekindling the fire, while singing a haunting melody about love and light in times of darkness. When the song ended, she lit the fire with a spark from her flint and the rest lit candles for the mantle.
“Lovely! I have not heard that song for many long winters.” A full, rich voice rang out.
Santa stood in the back of the small room. The scent of pine and spice filled the room. Santa had an inner glow, brighter than the small fire or the candles upon the mantle. His robes, rich red velvet, fell to his feet, trimmed in thick white fur. He carried a velvet and fur bag over one shoulder. On his long white curls sat a crown of evergreen, holly and mistletoe.
“Santa,” Mallow gasped, and the huge man smiled. The children clustered tight to her, but their eyes were shining with delight, not fear.
“I came to see Pascal. We all wondered what happened to you, son.” He looked around the room, smiling at the children who clung to their mother. “I see you are expecting me.” He waved a huge mittened hand toward the stockings on the mantle. The stockings instantly bulged with surprises.
“Santa, this is Mallow and her children.” Pascal slid an arm around Mallow. “She very kindly took me in and cared for me when I was injured in a rockslide.”
“There will be many thankful hearts on the morrow,” Santa said. “I can swing by here and pick you up in the morning on my way back to the North Pole.”
Mallow drew in a sharp breath. Of course he will leave with Santa. A deep sadness filled her heart, and she realized that she loved him.
Pascal let go of her shoulders and stepped forward. “Santa, I claim my Wishing Right this night.”
Santa’s eyes moved to Pascal’s misshapen foot covered by the leather slipper.
“Claim your wish, son.”
Pascal stood tall. “I wish to stay here, as the husband to the widow Mallow, and as the father to her children. If she’ll have me,” he added.
All eyes turned to Mallow who stared at Pascal. Tears pricked her eyes. “You can do that?” she asked. “Use your wish to stay with me? To be married to me?” She frowned.
“You want to be married to me?”
“If you will have me.” Pascal moved close, looking deep into her eyes with a slight smile. “I love you very much. If I were to leave you here and return to the North Pole I would miss you too much. My thoughts would always be with you and the children.”
“You should have him, Mama,” said one of the twins in a husky little boy voice. “He knows lots about herbs. And he plays with us.”
She smiled, and it was if light shined even brighter in the small cottage. “Yes. I will.”
Then she glanced at Santa. “My dear friend, my cousin Berri, danced to the Earth Mother for me to meet a man, right before we met on the mountainside. So it seems right with the Mother. If the Santa says it is all right. But will it cause trouble between our people?”
Santa smiled. “The Earth Mother is my Mother also, though many of her gentle ways have been lost to the Elves over time. But her time will spiral back to us...perhaps this is the start.”
Santa stroked his silky beard thoughtfully. “Long ago elves and dwarves married together. We have traded goods for centuries, as neighbors.” He paused to think.
“I do not have the power to change the minds of dwarves or elves. But I can ensure your safety should the villagers object and try to end the marriage, since I am the ruler of the North Pole. There will always be a place for you there if you cannot manage here. But...change is in the air.” His eyes had a faraway look.
“That will work,” Pascal breathed and he took Mallow into his arms for a long kiss.
“So Pascal the herbalist will become a farmer,” Santa said.
“Mallow is an herbalist, also, and she grows many herbs that we harvest in the wild. Or import. I plan to develop a trade route through the mountains, to deliver herbs.”
“Do you declare her your wife?” Santa asked. His tone was stately and the words rang through the cottage.
“I do,” said Pascal. His face was solemn, but his lips had a soft curve to them.
Santa looked at Mallow, who realized he was performing a marriage ceremony.
“Do you declare him your husband?”
“I do,” she whispered.
“I witness this marriage and give you a gift of rings.”
Then, with the sound of bells jingling, Santa was gone. Mallow and Pascal held their hands out to see two gold and silver twined rings around their marriage fingers.
“Are you married now, Mama?” Dawnli asked.
“Yes, children, we are married now,” she replied, still stunned at the rapid changes. Pascal was her husband.
The children cheered, delighted, and they celebrated with gifts, fruit pies, laughter and song.
Much later, after playing with the fine toys and books Santa gave them, the children went to bed up in their loft. They fell asleep as soon as Mallow covered them with their quilts.
At the bottom of the stairs Pascal swept Mallow up into his arms. “Now it is time for us.” He carried her to their bed.
“Pascal, put me down.” Mallow stiffened in his arms.
“What?” he asked as she slid down to the floor.
“You are not limping. You were carrying me without limping.” She leaned over and her fingers fumbled as she pulled off his slipper and wool sock to reveal a straight, high-arched foot.
Mallow laughed in joy.
“I guess Santa thought a farmer should have a whole foot,” Pascal said, awed.
“This is the best night ever,” Mallow sighed.
Pascal grinned and tossed her onto the bed. “Oh, I think the night is going to get even better.”
The End
