Greetings all, it has been quite some time since I have posted anything, but I do have a reason. My computer had to be restored, so I lost all of my documents. This short story is supposed to be in the universe of Our Story, but since that needs reworking I will simply leave it regular for now. Thank you for reading, reviewing with any tips, criticism, or Grammar Nazi corrections is greatly appreciated!
~Ereb Lor
v-*-*-v
Edmund, Susan, Peter and Lucy didn't believe in Santa for very long. Lucy was the last to stop believing of course, though she never told anyone when it happened. The encounter with Father Christmas in Narnia was rather startling for the three who were there at the time, but each were glad in their own way to have something back of their innocent youth that they had lost.
After the reign of the White Witch was over, Christmas was joyously allowed once again. But it was not the same as the world of Spare Oom. Christmas celebrations lasted the whole month long, and went into the next. Pre-celebrations were almost all different, and filled with many family traditions. There was a very special sort of contest between the four siblings that they began during their Golden Age; it started with the handing out of food, clothing and presents to the poorest regions of the land, emulating Father Christmas. Then it was brought up that the best way to do such a thing would be in secret, for how much more interesting is it to receive a gift and have no idea where it came from? Plus, they did not deserve to get the thanks when it was Aslan who it should go to. So the rulers would disguise themselves, and travel along roads until they found those who they felt led to give to. Eventually, it became a competition for who had the best cover, who was never discovered, and who had the best stories to tell.
Once, Edmund hid as a beggar, walking barefoot along the snowy ground and looking as much a wretch as any homeless person you would ever meet. He went to a poor town and held out a battered tin cup, seeing if he would get anything. He waited for hours, watching as disheartened people passed by with merely a glance his way. When he asked an elderly satyr if he could spare him anything, the reply he received was: "You must be real new at this, 'cause anyone should know that nobody has anythin' to give ya in this town."
Nevertheless, a family of fauns found a way. It was the last coin the mother and father had with them, but the child begged them for it, then walked up and dropped it in his cup with a smile. The next day they woke to find the cupboards of their small, lowly house filled to the brim with food, new plates, cups, and silverware, warm blankets, furniture, and a chest of money. The rest of the town was also given enough to rebuild their lives, and more. But the family who unknowingly gave their king the last of their money was often blessed with tokens of appreciation randomly for years.
It was about a week later when the young faun opened his eyes and spotted something on the pillow next to him. It was a silver coin on a chain. On one side was the face of a lion with kind eyes, engraved on the other were these words:
The one who gives when they have nothing is after the Great Lion's own heart
Edmund kept the coin he was given and had it strung around his neck. He wore it always to remind him of the sacrifice that had so touched his heart.