Wayward Woolpack
Winter Solstice is drawing near
When naughty children start to fear…
Young forest folk in brightly colored furs and wools ran to and fro pelting each other with snowballs and laughing uproariously. Snow forts had been built at opposite ends of a clearing and were stockpiled with icy ammunition used to wage wintry war. Across the clearing, others were ice skating on a small pond. The younger ones frantically fluttered their small mothlike wings as they tried to keep their balance on the slick surface.
Rainbow-colored lights reflected off icicles and fresh snow. They were strung through the trees and crisscrossed a field to illuminate the winter festival. Wooden tables were heaped with platters and trenchers filled with roasted goose and blackened carp, smoked ham and sausages, hot potato salad, pickled cabbage, gingerbread, sugared plums, fruitcake, cookies, and roasted chestnuts. The scent of warm mulled wine and apple cider spiked the air with sweet spiciness. Steam continued to rise from the food despite the chill in the air.
A venerable woman with gossamer wings looked on with satisfaction. She was blanketed in a burgundy cashmere robe trimmed in ermine. The robes were embroidered in silver-blue runes that matched the color of her pageboy hair.
"You've certainly outdone yourself this year, Alba," said a portly middle-aged man with thinning blond hair and hairstreak wings. He stopped beside her and handed her a mug of cider.
"Good evening, Taih," she smiled. "It certainly appears that everyone is enjoying themselves, doesn't it? I do wish Rorahan's two boys would stop cheating though. It sets a bad example. I don't know how such an honorable man ended up with such naughty children."
"I expect he's too soft on them since they lost their mother," Taih speculated. "I know it's been a few years since she left, but I think they all hope she'll come back from the Otherworld one day."
"If that's the case, I'm sure she'll be appalled to see what little rapscallions they've become," Alba wryly retorted. She looked up at the clouds and clucked her tongue as the moon continued to hide. "There's never been a festival with such a dark sky. I hope it's not an ill omen."
"I wouldn't worry. We'll see the Mother soon enough," Taih nodded confidently and patted her arm before moving on to speak to more friends. Alba continued to watch the sky.
Elsewhere in the forest, an odd pair was steadily making their way toward the festival.
"I cannot understand how ye got us lost, Eikthyrnir," the old man grumbled as he let go of the branch. It swooshed backward and smacked the reindeer behind him in the antlers. A shower of snow settled upon the rack. The huge six-legged beast snorted a disgruntled grumble of his own as he shook the flakes free.
Eikthyrnir continued to make various argumentative snorting and grunting noises as they tromped their way the forest. He was a monster of a beast standing half as tall again as a draft horse. His oiled leather harness was adorned with brass bells, and sprigs of holly sprouted from the velvety antlers crowning his head. His fur was muted tones of grey and white.
"Yes, yes, I know, the sky is very cloudy, but I would think that after doing this for so many years that you'd have a clearer inkling of just where we were heading without the Dog Star for guidance!"
One second they had been on course, making their rounds to check off the Naughty and Nice list, and the next they were enveloped in a short-lived snow squall. They had been forced to land in an unfamiliar forest and now were hopelessly lost. Shortly after landing they had passed through a frosted arch of trees that had looked very much like gate. They had seen nothing but nondescript trees and bushes since then.
The wizened man adjusted the burden of his woolpack and shook his head. His blue eyes narrowed in frustration under a craggy brow and bushy grey eyebrows. It continued to flurry as they walked, and his elaborately braided beard was dusted with snowflakes. A bulbous nose, reddened by the cold, featured prominently in the center of his soot-stained face. He tugged a fur-trimmed cloak closer against the cold. It was oft-mended and patched, the hood capped with small antlers. His simple tunic and breeches were in need of a good washing, but his black leather boots were sturdy and still waterproof.
Both were feeling short-tempered. Winter Solstice would soon end, and they still had much to accomplish. Eikthyrnir scraped a hoof across the frozen ground and then butted his shoulder against the old man's pack which, in turn, caused him to stumble. This prompted said bumbler to threateningly shake a willow switch gripped in one gloved hand.
"By my beard, you unruly beast!" He scolded but his voice lacked conviction. It trailed off as he peered through the darkness. A twinkling of lights flitted between the trunks, and the faint sound of merriment carried on a blustery gust. Man and beast simultaneously turned west and began to make their way toward the source.
They soon poked their similarly large noses through some evergreen bushes and gazed in wonder at the spectacle laid out before them. An energetic carnival was in full swing. A veritable zoo of ice sculptures leapt and slumbered its way across a field. Prancing deer artfully framed feasting tables, and delicate glasslike birds perched upon snow-covered boughs. Mischievous ground critters were forever suspended in mid-scurry across the landscape.
A stage had been erected at one end. A band bedecked in evergreen robes and berry-colored hats was belting out a jaunty tune. Dancers lifted their feet and clapped their hands to jingling bells, exuberant fiddling, and warm drumming. A gigantic star was suspended above the musicians. It cast a cheery illumination upon them and the makeshift dance floor. Everyone's faces were rosy with lighthearted spirit and wreathed in smiles. Wassailing voices swelled with joy.
"'Round the map and through a night sky,
Our Mother's reach, loft sun up high!
Rebirth! Rejoice! All who come here,
Winter shall wilt and spring gain near!"
The old man once again adjusted the weight of his coarse woolen sack. He then rubbed his equally wooly beard with a gloved hand as he mulled over the scene. He spotted two rascals sneakily stealing snowballs from their opponents and resupplying their own fort.
"I don't believe we are where we think we are, my boy, but it looks to me like we might have a job to do here nonetheless!"
He resolutely pushed his way through the greenery and walked straight into the center of the ongoing festivities. Eikthyrnir followed a bit more cautiously. His nose twitched as enticing aromas reached him. As the reindeer's gaze fell upon a rather redolent pudding, a huge tongue lolled out of his mouth followed by a quiet gurgle.
A few nearby voices stopped. The stillness rippled to the fringes until one last squawk of a fiddle brought complete silence. This didn't seem to faze the grizzled fellow as he wrenched a leg of goose free and took a bite of the succulent flesh. He spun around slowly with a little hum of satisfaction as he marked every eye upon him. Mentally, he was already tallying up Naughty versus Nice among these strange folk.
Although Alba's face was lined with age, her gait was spry and nimble as she approached. Her gaze lingered on the six-point antlers that jutted from the old man's tattered hood before returning to his weathered face.
"Greetings, stranger, to our Keeper of the Cauldron Festival. I am Elder Alba and I welcome you. You are not from around these parts," she stated shrewdly.
"Greetings!" he boomed in a jolly voice. "I am Belsnickel, The Seeker, and I thank you for your welcome, Elder Alba. I and my companion," Belsnickel turned, frowned, and then cracked his whip through the air.
"Eikthyrnir!" The reindeer snapped his head up. His muzzle was frosted in fig pudding. He endeavored to remove the evidence with wide swaths of his tongue, but it was already too late as everyone stared in either amusement or horror.
"He ate nearly the whole
thing!" one boy exclaimed in fascination. "I wanted to do that!"
Belsnickel grunted a sigh and continued, "As I was saying, I and my companion, Eikthyrnir, seem to have gotten ourselves lost. You see, we have a very important duty to perform for the Wish-Granter, and now we are woefully behind schedule. Tell me, has the Wish-Granter delivered gifts unto you in years past?"
Alba shook her head slowly as her brow knitted with mild confusion. "I have never heard of your Wish-Granter. Tonight we celebrate the Keeper of the Cauldron as she watches over our Mother Moon giving birth to the new Sun. The days will grow longer and warmer as he grows and chases away the dark of winter. We light candles to welcome his arrival." She motioned to neat rows of palm-sized cauldrons, each with an unlit beeswax candle nestled within.
Belsnickel rubbed his hands together with a grin. "Ah! Perhaps I could light a candle with you, and perhaps you would like to partake of my tradition in return? The Wish-Granter will visit you during his Wild Hunt and deliver gifts to all those I deem good of heart." He dropped his pack upon the ground and uncoiled the red rope tying it shut. His hand