I've always been a big fan of Christmas :) It's my favorite holiday, and it was this very holiday that inspired me to write this story. That and the first two "Santa Clause" films. It was originally a novel, but I knew I'd never be able to write it w/out copyright issues coming up. But since this is , why not?

Before anybody starts, I just want to say that this story is not precisely a fanfic about "The Santa Clause" or "The Santa Clause II," but it closely relates to both of them in many ways.

Also, I want to say that I do not own the Santa Clause films. Any elements, similar characters, and places belong to Walt Disney Studios and the people who worked hard to make those films.

That's all, enjoy the story…


A cool breeze wafted down from the Pyrenees Mountains one autumn afternoon. It wove its way into the little renaissance village of Prades and brushed past Melena's russet skirts. She breathed in the spicily scented air and happily strode down the cobblestone street to the market. The village was alive with activity, for today was the day of the Fall Festival, the most important day of the autumn season.

Awnings over shops and carts were decked in fall colors and garlands of paper leaves. Melena could see wicker cornucopias spilling out bountiful displays of wax food, pumpkins sitting by sculpted cornstalks, and colorful streamers dancing in the wind from the various street lamps. The nearby forest and hills seemed to blaze as if on fire from all the red, orange, brown, and golden leaves on the trees. Melena enjoyed shopping on days like this. Normally she would have been tending the horses at the courier's stable, but no one was sending messages today. And there was always more to find on festival days than a regular day at the market. Horse-drawn carts rattled by, dogs and children ran through the streets, and vendors yelled out their wares.

Melena merely looked at several of the carts. She didn't have much to barter with and was saving the coins she earned from caring for the villager's horses for something special. She did buy a few parcels of food to add to the batch she and Brigitte were taking to the bonfire. It was going to be a big one this year. More people had come to Prades than last year, and the harvest was plentiful.

As the young lady walked to the scarf vendor, she noticed several of her neighbors and customers staring with the usual curiosity. Of course they stare, she told herself, buying a few scarves in bright fall colors, it's because they have nothing better to do. She shrugged the stares off and headed home.

Melena lived in a house just outside of the main village. Her father had never liked the cramped living quarters or bustling town life in Prades. He and her mother had enjoyed the peaceful quiet of the nearby woods and the lack of nosy neighbors.

The house was especially warm that afternoon as Melena came in. Brigitte was bustling away in the kitchen, the oven fires at full blaze as she baked away. She sung a folk song to herself as she worked. Despite the warmth, Melena's home had once been more alive and jovial than this. Up until seven years ago, three people had lived there. Then there had been only one inhabitant for a short time. Now there were two. Melena picked up a set of three wooden angels her father had carved to represent her family. They were simple in design, with two adult angels holding hands with a child angel and standing in a circle. A tear came to the girl's eye when she thought of her parents. So strong they had been, and in one night they had been snatched from her.

Melena put down the sculpture and went up to her room, opening the only glass windows in the house. This room had once belonged to her parents. But after Brigitte moved in, she insisted that the room belonged to Melena now, and the girl gave up objecting after a short time. She hoisted a small wooden trunk up onto the window seat and lifted the lid, revealing an abundance of linen and silken scarves in just about every color and pattern.

Melena knew why many people in the village stared at her. They had been doing it since before she could remember, and they all knew she had a reason for wearing scarves, hats, and hoods on her head, but none had ever learned her family's secret. Melena went over to the large wooden trunk at the foot of her bed. Her father had carved this as well. He was a wizard at creating art out of wood. She remembered his strong hands and kind, handsome face. She remembered her mother's lovely face as well when she looked at the bracelet on her right wrist.

It was silver, with an aquamarine jewel hanging from it. Her mother had given it to her when she was little, saying it was a family heirloom. Everyone said Melena looked like her mother: the same face, the crystal blue eyes, the long, thick, curly blond hair, exactly like her. Melena even had her mother's small stature, which was unexpected since her father was so much taller. The girl was barely more than five feet in height, causing a lot of the men in the village to dwarf her. But there was one other thing Melena and her mother shared, something which no one outside their home ever learned.

Melena pulled out her festive fall season dress and went over to the tall, ornate mirror. It was the only one in the house, and her father had always said that they were very lucky to have it. It used to hang in the sitting room, but ever since Brigitte had moved in, the glass piece had somehow made its way up into Melena's room, and not by her own doing. The blond stared at herself, seeing the blue scarf lying across her forehead like the bandanna of a warrior. She reached up and untied it, carefully taking it off. Underneath the scarf revealed two pointy ears. Melena tucked her hair behind the ears and stared at them. No one in the village had known, and they probably never would.

Melena's mother had been an elf, a beautiful one at that. There were very few elves in the world, and even fewer that married humans. And yet, her mother had fallen for her charming father and decided to settle down in this village. Unfortunately, since the people of Prades were somewhat superstitious and wary of magical creatures, the girl's mother had been forced to hide her ears under scarves and hats as well. When Melena was born, her parents had been surprised that she possessed her mother's ears, though her arrival was not unexpected.

So, ever since she could be taken out of the house, Melena had been forced to hide her ears from the world. She wasn't even a full elf. Her mother had told her that part-elves were different from full-blooded elves, but she had never said why. Melena could never figure it out. She didn't even know what made pure elves different from humans, besides the ears.

People in the village had all sorts of stories explaining elves. Legends abounded of little people with large, pointy ears, living in the forest and frolicking with fairies to hide away gold. Some stories also told of elves dancing during certain heathen holidays, celebrating magical parts of the year, such as the onset of Spring. When Melena regaled her parents of such stories, her mother would laugh her laugh of tinkling bells and take Melena into her arms, telling her not to pay attention to such hogwash. Her father agreed as well, and he claimed that elves neither came in that form, nor did they do such silly things.

"Elves are people like you or me," he would tell Melena, before going off to create some other kind of wood carving. Melena agreed as well, even to this day. She missed her parents so.

It was an unusual winter night, when a freak snowstorm had blown in from the mountains. Her father had gone out to help one of the farmers get his goats in from the nearest mountainside. When the two of them did not return, Melena's mother went to help, getting caught in the avalanche that claimed the lives of her husband and the farmer only minutes before. It had been a terrible night for Melena, and she still felt anxious whenever she came near the mountains in winter.

As Melena pulled on her dress, she wiped away the stray tears that had come. The pain was not as bad as it had been seven years ago. Now, the memory of her parents had simply become a dull ache inside, a reminder of her orphan status. As she finished dressing, Melena took one last glance at her pointed ears in the mirror before putting on one of her new scarves, hiding them once more.

By the time she came downstairs, the sun was starting to go down and Brigitte had finished baking. Melena smiled at the sight of her one and only friend in all of Prades. Brigitte was a plump little old woman that had a smile as sweet as her personality. She had a sort of aged beauty that simply couldn't be erased by wrinkles and time. Brigitte was also one of the few elders in the village that still had all her teeth, hair, and strength. Despite her age, there was a child-like quality about her as well.

"Why hello Melena," she greeted warmly as she placed the various loaves of bread into baskets, "I didn't hear you come in, cheri."

"Sorry Brigitte, I should have helped you finish these," the blond said apologetically as she helped load the meat pies and tortes into the baskets.

"Oh pish-tosh! You deserved some time out of the house," Brigitte said as she unwrapped some of the parcels Melena had bought, "you have been working day and night for the past few weeks with those horses. I've seen you with circles under your eyes in the morning. You need to rest once in a while ma petite." Melena managed a small smile as she wrapped some of the stickier tarts in wax paper. Brigitte noticed the girl's demeanor immediately.

"Why what's the matter, child? Are you all right?" It was a few moments before Melena spoke.

"I was just thinking about…maman and papa." The old woman looked up from the baskets and saw the sad look on the girl's face. She immediately dropped what she was doing and wrapped Melena in a hug.

"I'm sorry Melena. I know how this time of year reminds you of them. I just wish things had been better for you." Melena sniffed a bit, grateful that Brigitte was there.

Soon after her parents had died, Brigitte took it upon herself to act as Melena's guardian, since it was unseemly and unsafe for a ten-year-old girl to be living by herself. Melena didn't object, since Brigitte was an old friend of the family. She was the grandmother Melena never had. She had acted as midwife for Melena's mother when she was born, and she was the only person in the village who knew that the girl and her mother were elves. The blond elf was grateful to have Brigitte in her home. The woman was so warm and comforting, and it was almost like having a family again.

"Come into the kitchen, ma petite bijou. I still have some tea on the kettle." Brigitte beckoned, leading the girl into the still-warm room.

"This should keep us warm out there," the old lady said as she poured some of the hot liquid into two clay cups.

"I'm glad you're coming," Melena said, starting to smile again as she drank her tea.

"I can't imagine who wouldn't," Brigitte said as she joined the girl at the table, "I always get excited at this time of year."

"I know why too," Melena said mischievously, "Christmas is coming." Brigitte pretended to gasp in surprise.

"Now how did you guess that?" she teased.

"Oh, I don't know," Melena said, an impish smile on her face.

One of the reasons Brigitte had been allowed in on Melena's family secret was she believed in elves, real ones. When she found out that the girl's mother was an elf, she had regaled the family countless times of her experience with elves in the far north. It was this memory that sparked Melena's interest at that moment.

"Brigitte, can you tell me your story again? About when you met le Père Noël?" Unlike earlier, the older woman was genuinely surprised at this.

"Isn't it a bit early in the season for you to be asking me that? It is still autumn, after all."

"I just feel like hearing it before we go to the bonfire. Can you indulge me in that one favor, please?" Melena asked, though even she was unsure as to why she requested it. It seemed that Brigitte never tired of telling the story, and unlike many people, she never changed it to make it sound better or more fantastic than it truly was.

Brigitte checked the position of the sun out the window before making up her mind.

"All right, we have time," she agreed, winking at the young lady. Melena smiled shyly at this before sipping her tea. With that, Brigitte began her tale.

"When I was a little girl, no more than six, something extraordinary happened. On the eve of Christmastide, all had gone to sleep in my home. But I woke late that night to the sound of something on the roof. The rest of the family slept soundly, but I could not.

"I went out into the main room and found Father Christmas himself leaving gifts under our tree. It was of great surprise for me to see him at all, for maman and papa had always told me he was invisible. But there he was, in a red suit and white fur, placing parcels as was expected. When he saw me, he smiled and greeted me by name, as if he'd known me my entire life. I was delighted to see that he was as real the trees and the earth beneath my feet. I couldn't resist embracing him like a beloved grandfather, and he kindly accepted it. Dutiful child as I was, I whispered that I would tell no one I saw him and headed straight back to bed. But then le Père Noël did something I did not expect.

"He offered to take me to the Far North, to visit his homeland. I was so happy I nearly woke the house with my delight, and eagerly accepted. Father Christmas promised that I would be home by morning. He then took me into his sleigh with him, and I was amazed when it flew into the air, just like the stories said. The wind was very cold, so Father Christmas wrapped me in a blanket. It was truly extraordinary seeing the world up there. Everything looks so different from up in the sky, and the reindeer pulling the sled really did fly without wings. I eventually fell asleep during our journey up into the clouds.

"When I woke, we were in a beautiful, colorful world of snow. There were elves and snow everywhere. They were like children, but they had ears that were pointed, just like yours, and they were wise beyond their years. They sang and danced everywhere I went, and were already working hard on next year's gifts. It was so overwhelming and delightful at the same time. I do not think my eyes could get any wider at everything I saw there.

"Father Christmas led me around, showing me many things in the North Pole, including reindeer and the place he lived. It was very beautiful. Glitter and colors everywhere. After a while I grew quite tired. Father Christmas took me to the guest quarters in his home and put me to bed. As he tucked me in, I thanked him for the gift of seeing his world. He enjoyed sharing it with me, and gave me a special ring as his token of affection for me. When I awoke the next morning, I was home and had a wonderful tale to tell mama and papa. They, of course, enjoyed what I had to tell, though they never really did believe me. Not even when I showed them this ring."

At that she showed Melena a ring that the girl had seen many times. It was a simple gold band with holly leaves etched into it. It was lovely in its simplicity, and though Brigitte's hands were the same size as Melena's, the blond could never try the ring on for some strange reason. It always seemed too small for any of her fingers, even her pinkie. Also, Brigitte had told her in the past that it seemed no matter how much her hands had grown over time, the ring always fit her. There was magic in it, no mistaking that.

Despite what others had thought, Melena believed every word of the tale. Somehow, all the unusual presents she saw under her own tree every year, the way Brigitte described things; she simply couldn't see how her friend could have made any of it up.

"Thank you," Melena said when her friend finished, "I never tire of that story."

"Pray that you never do ma petite bijou," Brigitte teased, finishing her tea.

"Are you ready?" she asked, getting up and putting the tea things away.

"For the bonfire?" Melena asked back, helping with the cups in the copper sink.

"Of course! You didn't think I'd forget, do you?" Brigitte laughed. With that, she headed for the main room and gathered up half the baskets they had packed. Melena joined her.

As the two women headed out towards the far side of Prades, Brigitte couldn't help but say to Melena,

"How unusual for you to request the Christmastide story so early before winter. I was thinking about it while cooking today."

"Really?" the blond asked, intrigued.

"Normally you ask to hear it when the first cold winds come off the mountains. Is there something you wish to talk about?" Melena shrugged.

"Not really. Though we should have quite a bit to talk about after this bonfire." Brigitte laughed at this.

"Yes, with the bountiful harvest and extra guests this year, this will be a night to remember."


Yep, we've met our heroine, though I won't reveal too much for now. I know there was more back-story than dialog but what was written here is important for later in the fanfic. I did some re-editing recently to make Melena & Brigitte's dialogue sound more French, so that's where all the French terms came from. I tried doing research as best as I could, since I never took French while in high school, but hopefully they translate to what I intended. It's pretty obvious what maman and papa mean. Le Père Noël means "Santa Clause," :) ma cheri means "my love," often a term French parents use for their little ones ^^, and ma petite I believe means "little one," and ma petit bijou means "my little jewel."

I promise there will be more action in the next few chapters. You'll also see how this relates to the "Santa Clause" stories soon.

By the way, in regards to the "Santa Clause" films, I specifically mentioned the first two, because I am a huge non-fan of the 3rd one. Believe me, it's totally not worth watching compared to the first two.

For those of you who saw "The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause," and not the others, I strongly urge you to see the first two. They're much better. For those of you who have seen all three, forget the 3rd one existed.

For those of you who liked the third one, I apologize for my forwardness, but after reading up on it, I really missed Bernard—oops! I said too much, lol.

Ok, enough of my rambling. Read on everyone!