There once was a little girl with hair the color of gold and eyes as blue as the seas of her homeland. She was quite alone in the world, her parents having perished some time previously. A grand opera house was her home, and she spent many a happy hour exploring its hidden passageways and running from the Opera Ghost. She was learning to sing from the Angel of Music and learning to dance from the stern Madame Giry and was quite content with her lot, poor though she was.
It was the week before Christmas and she had yet to find gifts for her dear ones. She needed three: one for Madame, one for her little daughter Meg, who had befriended her, and one for her Angel. Though she had naught a franc to spend, she was determined to find gifts for all. She searched high and low, from the catwalks above the stage to the deepest of the cellars…or as deep as she could convince herself to go. One of the seamstresses gave her a bright blue ribbon the color of a summer sky for Meg, one she was positive would look beautiful in her friend's light colored hair. In the kitchens, she coaxed one of the cooks to give her a small box of the sweet candies that the stern Madame was quietly fond of. With a bit of colored paper and some sticking paste, she transformed the tiny parcels into things of beauty.
But no matter how hard she searched, she could find nothing for her Angel. After all, what does one give such a being? He (for she was certain her Angel was a he) had no use for ribbons or sweets. And nothing she had found in her search seemed suitable. It was already the day before Christmas and she began to despair of ever finding a gift for her Angel.
Madame Giry found her alone in dormitory Christmas Eve, the blond head buried in her thin pillow, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. When asked what was wrong, she could only blurt out that she had no gift for her angel. The wise woman listened patiently before whispering a suggestion in her ear. The child gave her a hug, and with a big smile, ran off to gather the things she would need. She worked long into the night, making sure every detail was perfect.
The next day after Christmas Mass, she hurried to the small chapel in the lower levels of the opera house where she had her lessons. "Angel!" she called. Several moments passed, and she began to fear that he would not come. Just as she was about to leave, she heard him call her name. With joy, she turned around to face the apparent source of his voice.
"Merry Christmas!" she proclaimed happily. "I have a gift for you!"
"A gift?" Were he not an angel, she would have thought he was confused.
"Yes! I found one for Meg and Madame Giry, but I couldn't find one for you until Madame helped me. Can I give it to you now?"
"Yes, little one."
She carefully stood up straight and tall like he always told her, closed her eyes, and began to sing. Her voice was still childish, but held hints of the glorious sound it could become.
Hold fast, my child, when fast the night
Comes upon the land, to fight.
Stand strong, stand tall
Hold fast to love, my child, lest you fall
For angels are watching o'er you
Leading you towards that which is true
Hold fast, my child, when darkness is born
For every dark night brings a bright new morn
Keep close, keep fast
Memories of love, my child, that never could last
For angels are watching o'er you
Leading you toward that which is true
Hold fast, my child, till daylight draws near
With joy and beauty and lasting good cheer
Laugh loud, laugh long
Love shall prevail, my child, and begin a new song
For angels are watching o'er you
Leading you toward that which is true
Love shall prevail, my child
Love shall prevail…
In the silence that followed, she began to fear he didn't like his gift. "My father used to sing that to me," she whispered. When he didn't answer, tears began to run down her face and she turned to run out the door.
"Wait…" the Angel called. "I am not angry with you, child, merely surprised. Angels rarely receive gifts."
"Really?" she said, awed. Her tears were gone now.
"Really," he replied, a laugh in his voice. "Now run, child, and see what St. Nick has brought you today." She ran off happily to join the other children in the dormitory.
Within a shadowed corridor, an angel shakily knelt, tears silently running down his face as he thanked the holy Child for the little girl who had given him the only gift he had ever received.
For the angel's song was more precious than any costly gift.
A/N: Merry Christmas, all!