----O Holy Night ----
It seemed almost a deafening quiet outside. So much so it became a distraction as the sullen silence interrupted his concentration. The literary piece in front of him sat still in his hands as Professor Duncan MacLeod gazed through the porthole. Each star flickered uniquely, no two alike, yet all part of the same huge Universe. He leaned back further into the soft leather of the sofa and sighed. Too bad people can't be more like stars, and the words came to mind. Peace....Peace on earth good will towards men. The conflict in the Middle East left his mind unsettled. War, it never changed no matter the cause or the origination. He fought in many, regretted much, and watched as history continued to repeat itself.
This must be the third time he caught himself dazing off. For some reason the chill of the late December evening took him other places. Not to mention his student's indecisive theories about Ancient Celtic Lore. He looked down at the paragraph before him, restarting it for the fifth time. It didn't hold his interest, but the paper did spark a few memories. Once again he focused as the author relayed his opinions on selected gruesome details in Scot history. Sensationalizing famous Scottish battles such as: The Battle of Bannockburn, and Culloden MoorDuncan's grip tightened as the red pen revolved between his fingers. A large evident circle appeared on the paper surrounding the year 1745, the incorrectly dated Jakobite battle. The Scot mumbled lowly, Yi'd think they cuid at least git the dates richt.
Grading final exams; the last thing he wanted on his agenda for the night, "Forget this" he said out loud and shoved the papers aside, instantly coming to his feet. The sudden burst of energy he exerted gave little support, as his knee buckled and a numbing sensation ran from the tip of his toes to the middle of his thigh. He lifted his loosely fit pant leg by hand and shook it as he hobbled for a brief second on one leg. Unlike a human, the lifeblood quickly returned to his limb, and the tingling prickles receded.
The Christmas Holidays gingerly slipped by faster than he expected. He glared at the stack of typewritten papers as he gathered them, unable to believe he took this on. His hands tapped the sides adjusting the uneven corners. Another step and he placed them neatly atop the sofa table. Why the eternal boy scout? He muttered, as he recalled the conversation between his grad student/T. A. and himself.
-----
"Professor MacLeod?"
"Yes Jean….?" Duncan slowly lifted only his eyes from the paperwork, and glanced through his spectacles; the nonprescription bifocals he purchased for appearance. For a Professor an essential part of his mystique, intimidation and a hint of wisdom made for the perfect aura.
He watched the tall slender lad with the scruffy goatee as he hmmmmd and hawwwd around the desk....the kid, always so predictable. Awaiting his request he returned his attentions to his research.
Finally the Highlander a bit impatient with Jean antics decided to give the aide his undivided focus. Concluding, the longer the student hovered, the less likely he'd finish his last minute prep for next semester. No homework, he promised himself, a Christmas Holiday free of school related business.
"What is it Jean?" as he tried to cast a reasonable stoic expression in his direction.
"You see, I have a chance to visit my elderly grandparents in the UK for the Holidays, and I know I promised to help grade the finals…." The clock in the background sounded the hour loud enough to interrupt the dramatic petition. "but....." and a familiar whining tone came from the young man with the thick French accent, and before he finished….
"Yes....Go....you must spend the Holidays with your loved ones," as the Scot stood from the desk and removed his glasses, he placed a comforting arm around the student's shoulder. "You never know how long they'll be around." and gave him a generous squeeze on the shoulder.
"Ahhhhh thank you Monsieur…..I mean Professor MacLeod." and the grateful student suddenly wrapped both arms about his mentor and kissed his cheeks. Surprised at the emotional display the Scot clenched the young man's shoulders and pushed him gently back.
"Okay, okay, now go, before I change my mind."
-----
So much for his promise, but in his defense the aide did remind him a little of Richie. Not in resemblance, just the whine. The same whine, the one when Rich wanted something, and felt completely justified in it. The one where he wasn't going to give him a moments peace until he got it. What he'd give to hear that unnerving tone again and Duncan stepped towards the simple Christmas tree. Slowly he moved the needled branches aside. His hand slid down the metal wall until he fingered the socket and pushed the extension plug into place. A thousand miniature lights illuminated the dark corner and played havoc with his eyes. Blinded momentarily, as little bright circles danced in mid air.
The Highlander yawned and stretched high above his six foot frame, his fingertips extended as they scraped past the textured ceiling. He teetered on the balls of his feet as the shadowy figure made one last flailing swoop of his arms. An audible sigh arose as he recalled the day; admittedly exhausted after the arduous hours of repairs aboard the barge. Each situation seemed to demand his immediate attention. The fuel pump on the compressor alone squandered a major part of his time. He loved grunge work, and getting his hands dirty, but….a nice shower and donning some dressier clothes put him in a more festive mood. It all seemed a bit fruitless now as the evening waned. He adjusted the collar on his burgundy turtleneck, and smoothed the black vest with matching pants as he finished his exercise.
Amanda mentioned she might drop by for dinner and dancing. He guessed nothing came of it, as the man depressed the translucent numbers on his cell and received the customary four rings. Followed in turn by the woman's hideous answering machine....Duncan never knowing what new method the woman might use to retrieve messages.
"Hello Amanda here," and a long pause proceeded as he started to answer her.... "Ooops, I guess I'm not, but….you know what to do at the beep." The corners of his mouth went up into a half quirky smile as he shook his head. He actually found her little game tediously annoying and left his message.
"Amanda....I guess I'll see you if you get here."
The later it became the more the Highlander reconciled himself to spend the evening alone. He leaned sideways and over the desk, grasped the lamp switch, and twisted. The light dimmed….and faded off into a hazy afterglow, as the hum of the generator clicked on in the background. Duncan gave no thought in concealing the grin that spread from one end of his mouth to the other. Funny how a simple noise, can give you instant gratification, he mumbled as the sound drifted off.
He rubbed his hands across his eyes as they slowly adjusted to the iridescent light. His fingers fumbled through the cd's on the near by shelf as he grabbed the first case in the Holiday section. Snow and a tree he visualized, but the words too blurry to read as he placed its contents carefully in the slot. Humming aloud as he made his way back towards the comfort of the sofa. Even in the faint light he'd made an excellent choice, he mused, as the soft and alluring tones of the seasonal melodies began with Celine Dion singing....
O Holy Night the Stars are brightly shining....
He sprawled lengthwise across the couch and moved his hand to the back searching for his Celtic afghan. Ahhhh he sighedas he touched the ribs in the yarn, and tossed the blanket high above him. Images of celtic knots flashed briefly before him as he spread the volume evenly across his legs and torso. The Scot turned and scooched his head into the leather armrest as he watched intently as each tiny light seemed to sparkle in sync with the ongoing music.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining, till he appeared and the soul
felt its worth….
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices....for yonder breaks the new and
glorious morn. Fall, on your knees, Oh hear the angel voices,
O night divine, O night when Christ was born....
A sense of anxiety aroused from the pit of his stomach as the words continued.
Surely he taught us to love one another....His law is love and his gospel
is peace....
And in his name all oppression shall cease....
"When, when will it cease?" his mind sought conclusion, as
Duncan stared up and in the direction of the antique star that glimmered atop
the tree, as it cast soft shadows against the wall. Not so long ago....twelve
years, they seemed like centuries and yet the happiness and pain as clear as
yesterday. The last Christmas he remembered placing the star on the tree. He
thought he might use it this year, but now as the ache rose in his heart he
wasn't so sure why, and turned slightly as he stretched the covers close about
his neck.
The words seemed to swim in his head taking him somewhere deep and into a trance with each additional note until he drifted and his eyes closed.
Where is this? The area didn't seem familiar as he walked further down the dusty road. There were few lights, only the soft glow of the odd candle or oil lantern shining within the weather beaten cottages. This is not his village of old, nothing like Glenfinnan yet it seemed strangely familiar. He'd seen many travelers along the way and wondered where their attentions lie. Their dress, mannerisms, and the architecture appeared more ancient than even himself. Distinctive and different the land, but the weary over-worked faces of the peasants seemed the same.
His heart pained as he stared on each group as they passed him by, some with little more than a piece of leather or cloth tethered about their feet. The blood stains on some of the trappings chilled his bones as he ached for the children knowing there be nothing in his power to do.
On his journey into the small town the sheep in the hills sparked memories of his boyhood, as he approached a gathering of shepherds off the worn path. Proceeding on into the midst of the strangers he asked if he might sit by the warmth of their blazing fire, but they seemed not to hear him. He found that odd, but soon realized their attentions fell elsewhere, as their eyes gazed upward into the Heavens. Listening....he heard the voice, it was not that of any earthly being, it filled the air and yet fell soft upon his ears as he staggered forth in awe. He understood the familiar phrases even though spoken in the ancient language of the Hebrews, and....an unforgettable warmth filled his soul knowing this message would be celebrated throughout Kingdoms and Principalities for millennia to come.
"Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy,
which shall be to all people.
For unto you is born this day in the city of David
a Saviour
which is Christ the Lord.
And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped
in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
And suddenly with the angel a multitude of Heavenly hosts praising
God, and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward
Men."
The Highlander's voice; lost to the lump that clenched taut in his throat, as his eyes filled with tears of humility. He followed the others a short distance behind, not feeling worthy to join with these favored people. It was they the Heavenly messenger appeared to. The words and songs echoed in his mind as the warming sensation grew stronger from within. Steadily, he walked the path as he gazed up at the new star, the same the Angels foretold would lead them to the place where the babe would lie. The light emanated from it far brighter than any other star, encircled about by a radiant glow that beamed like a beacon through the night sky.
Lowering his head, as they approached the entrance, he wondered, why an unworthy soul such as he should be there? What peace had he brought to the world over his lengthy stay? Had he really even believed in this child he was about to reverence on this night of all nights?
"Yes," he had believed, at times he wavered in his feelings, but when he gave it thought, whenever he despaired he knew it to be He who gave him strength. His knowledge that He existed gave his hungry soul the faith that pulled him through.
Along with the shepherds he made his way into the stable and knelt. He bowed his head amid the humble circumstances aside where the child lay. Stillness filled the air. Not a sound arose except the sweet coos from the newborn babe. The animals and people alike in awe of the child they knew would grow to be 'The Christ '. Duncan humbly raised his head and gazed into the child's eyes, a searing peace filled his heart, a sense that this infant had a greater capacity to love than anyone he'd ever known or would....oh yes he was indeed only a babe, but his spirit older than Methos permeated the air.
He, the great 'I am ' whom the prophets had testified would come unto the world. The eldest son of God, his power unlimited. He, the mighty one above all but God Himself. He needed no sword, the love of His fellow men His power. Peace on earth, His hope for the world. He, his Father's emissary here and now to accomplish a task no other could master. His hand fell forward and touched the wee babe's cheek so soft and new. Duncan wished that he might save him from the pains he knew His life must bring. That he may fight his battles for righteousness, but the great warrior knew different. There was no alternative this infant is "The Christ" the son of the living God. He alone, the only One to pave the way for others to follow and it must be done.
Somehow in that one brief moment he realized that he, himself, was not alone. The self pity and resentment he sometimes carried over his burdens stood as nothing compared to what this child would grow to bear. Swearing under his breath, he gave an oath to make a difference, and he slipped back into the night the way he came, as the strains of music filled his ears once more....
"O Holy Night...."
Noel…..Noel…..the song moved forward as a tear came to his eye, and he cleared his throat.
"412 years Tessa," he said as the lone tear ran down his cheek.
Finally, he faced the aching sorrow, never again would she be celebrating birthdays with him, as he stared at the star atop the tree. Her brilliant blue eyes appeared to his mind, as the softness of the strands of her hair slipped between his fingers. He wanted so much to believe their short life together wasn't all for not. That he might see her once more and now he knew.
A reassuring peace possessed his entire being. Christ was born, he lived, and he died that we might live again.
Her voice seemed to ring softly in his ear.
"Happy Birthday my darling."
NOEL…..NOEL…..
O Night….Divine……O….Night, O Holy Night!
Disclaimer: The story is my original work, the characters belong to the Davis/Panzer productions, and its subsidiaries except Jean OMC.
The Song "Oh Holy Night" sung by Celine Dion, and all rights belong to her.
The picture an accumulation not sure who did it but I have added to it.
But if
it belongs to someone and is copyrighted I would be glad to remove it.