Disclaimer: The Pevensies and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.
When Father Christmas Didn't Come
"He didn't come," Lucy said, her eyes brimming with tears and her lower lip quivering. "Father Christmas didn't come."
She was sitting on the floor that Christmas morning in front of the hearth in Cair Paravel's Great Hall. There wasn't a Christmas tree, because Edmund and Peter, only last night back from five miserable weeks slogging through the northern mountains fighting the Giants, had been too worn out to go fetch one.
Lucy understood, and truly, it was enough of a Christmas gift to have them home no more than tired and bruised. Two jaguars and a Centaur from General Oreius's army hadn't come back at all. But to have no Christmas tree and now for Father Christmas not to come at all— Well, it was too much.
She looked up into the anxious faces of her brothers and the almost-scolding face of her sister.
"We have all we need, Lu," Susan said, and there was understanding and sympathy along with the sternness in her eyes. "Christmas isn't about the presents after all."
"I know," Lucy told her.
This was her third Christmas in Narnia, and in the past two years, she'd seen and possessed every kind of wonder imaginable. She was a Queen after all. But despite the holly and mistletoe Susan had put up and the trio of packages she had gotten from her brothers and sister, it wasn't the same. Christmas was— Christmas was supposed to be special.
Peter, looking desperate to think of some way to cheer her up, leaned down and kissed her forehead and then swung her up into his arms. They must have been tired still, because they shook a little under her, and he sank quickly into the comfortable chair that was near the fire.
"I know it's not as grand a Christmas as last year," he said, his eyes warm, "but remember our first one? When we actually got to see Father Christmas? We were all tired and cold and afraid he was really the Snow Queen trying to kill us. That wasn't grand at all, was it?"
She smiled a little, snuggling into him at the memory of that long, miserable walk through the bitter night. And they still had those special gifts Father Christmas had brought them, Peter's sword and shield, Susan's bow and arrows, and Lucy's own diamond bottle of cordial. It had been Edmund's gift, too, even though he hadn't been there then. It had saved his life after he'd sacrificed himself to save all of them from the Queen's wand.
She reached over and took Edmund's hand. He was so different now, so changed from the spiteful little boy who had so often teased and tormented her. Oh, he still teased, but there was no spite it in. After Aslan had forgiven him, after Aslan had died to show His love to Edmund and to all of them, Edmund had learned that love was stronger than anger, stronger than pain. He had learned to let them all love him, just as he was, just as he had learned to love them. She had a feeling that he had always loved them, deep down inside, but he'd been too angry with the war and with everything else that had happened to know how to show it.
She thought, too, though the memory was growing more and more dim, of the Christmases back in the Other Place, of how a little baby had been born in a manger, in a lowly stable with only His mother and father and the poor, dumb beasts who couldn't even wish Him a good morning and a Happy Birthday. But He was a King, too, and even in such humble circumstances, He had been given rich and kingly gifts.
No, she told herself sternly. She and her sister and brothers were very different from His kind of King, as different as they were from Aslan Himself. It was only through His goodness and mercy that they were here now in a splendid palace, all four of them ruling together and showing His kindness to others.
She squeezed Edmund's hand again. Truly, she had nothing to complain about, nothing at all, and everything to thank Him for.
Edmund squeezed her hand in return and then shrugged a little, embarrassed, she was sure, at the gesture. After all, he was Edmund still.
"Maybe we should go try to find him," he said, glancing at Peter. "Maybe he got stuck somewhere."
"Father Christmas?" Susan said scornfully. "He can't get stuck."
"Then where is he?"
Susan scowled at him. "Why don't we have the nice breakfast Mrs. Penwing and Mrs. Kani made for us? I understand there are sardines."
She looked hopefully at Lucy, and Lucy dredged up a smile in return.
"That would be very nice." She took a deep breath and smiled a little more genuinely. "I know you're hungry, Ed. And so's Peter."
Both boys looked a little more worn than hungry, but the each took her by the hand and walked with her to the table. Susan had taken a great deal of trouble with it as usual, and Lucy hadn't even told her how pretty it was.
"Topping looking table, Su," Peter said as he sat down at its head. "Even better than last year."
"Where'd you get white roses this time of year?" Edmund asked, taking his own place. "They look nice with the holly and berries."
"Some of the Dryads brought them to me," Susan admitted. "You'll have to ask them how they managed it in all this snow."
Lucy hugged her. "Thank you for making it look so lovely."
Susan gave her a grateful hug in return. "I'm sorry about the tree, Lu. We'll make up for it next year, all right? And maybe Father Christmas is just running late this time. You know how many presents he has to deliver."
Lucy smiled and nodded as she sat down, but Edmund and Peter looked at each other.
"What do you say, Ed?" Peter asked as he nonchalantly helped himself to eggs and thickly sliced bacon. "Reckon we could track down Father Christmas and see where he might be?"
"I expect we could," Edmund said.
There was an eager keenness in both of their tired faces, and Lucy felt a pang of guilt.
"It's all right," she said quickly. "Really it is. Maybe he thought we had everything we need this year, and I think he's right."
"We'll go out and look anyway," Peter said, looking more determined than ever. "And maybe we'll still get a tree as well. We can decorate it and have it all the way until New Year. How would that be?"
"I'm in," Edmund said as he stuffed himself with toast.
Lucy's eyes filled with tears again. She knew they were tired. She knew a tree wasn't something they really needed. She knew they were doing it only to make her happy.
"No," she said, and there was a wobble in her voice. "Really. Let's just enjoy the day and remember what it means, here and in the Other Place. We don't need all the other things."
Peter and Edmund only looked at each other and carried on eating, but when they were through, they wrapped up again and went out. "To make sure the area is secure," they said, but Lucy was certain that wasn't really why. Oreius and his soldiers kept them perfectly safe.
It was well past her bedtime when Susan insisted she wake up from the chair she was curled up in and go to bed properly. Lucy protested that Peter and Edmund weren't back yet, but Susan said she could see them in the morning and whisked her off to bed. Lucy was too tired to do much more than pray for them to come home soon before she fell soundly asleep.
It must have been two or three hours later when she heard a clatter in the Great Hall. She crept down the hallway and to the top of the stairs. She couldn't see anyone, but she could just make out the low voices.
"She's asleep," Susan was saying. "She tried to wait up, but I finally got her to go to bed."
"Good thing," said Peter. "I'm afraid she won't be very happy with us anyway."
"Of course she will. We're both glad you're home and safe."
"I know, but we didn't find Father Christmas at all."
"And we didn't find much of a tree," Edmund added. "We spent most of our time trying to find Father Christmas, and by the time we started looking for a proper tree, it was nearly too dark to see. There's one out in the courtyard, but it's nothing to the grand one we had last year."
"It's all right," Susan soothed. "In the morning, we'll put it up and between the four of us and all of our helpers, we'll make it nice. For now, you two need to get warm and dry. Have you eaten?"
"Not since this morning," Edmund admitted.
"All right then, change into your night things and I'll make you some hot tea and toast to start. You can eat that while I make you some proper sandwiches to tide you over, and then it's straight to bed."
"Thanks, Su," Peter said. "It's awfully bitter out."
For a moment, Lucy was determined to go down and tell them she didn't mind if Father Christmas didn't come or if they had only a little tree or no tree at all. Then she thought about how tired and cold they must be, how hungry and ready for bed, too, and she decided it could wait till morning.
She went back to her bed, snuggled under the covers, and just barely managed a thankful prayer before she was asleep again.
When the sun first rose in the clear, cold sky, she got out of bed, put on her robe and slippers, and went round to peep into the rooms of her brothers and sister. They were all fast asleep just as she'd hoped, and she scampered down the stairs, meaning to get the guards to help her bring in the little tree Edmund and Peter had brought home last night so she could make it as beautiful as possible.
When she reached the Great Hall, she stopped, her mouth falling open and her eyes widening. There before her, glimmering and twinkling with silver and gold and jewels and the flames of a thousand tiny candles, was the most enormous, most glorious Christmas tree she had ever seen. And at its top, shining more brightly than anything else on it, was a shimmering star, a star of wonder, a star that must have been very like the one that had shone over that stable she'd heard about in that Other Place.
She stood where she was for a very long moment, feeling the bubble of laughter inside herself. This was nothing like the tree Peter and Edmund had brought home. These weren't the ornaments they'd used to deck last year's tree. Her brothers and sister were still fast asleep in their beds.
And presents! Under that glorious tree were stacks and stacks of presents, presents for all four of them and even some for Orieus and Mr. Tumnus! And, on top of the largest one, was an enormous envelope with a red-and-white candy-cane-stripe border and her name written in bright gold on the front.
Her hands trembling, she opened it.
My dearest Lucy,
I hope you will forgive me for being late. I knew your brothers were terribly busy all the way until the night of Christmas Eve and you wouldn't have a tree. As you can see, I brought you one, but it was so very large, it took me an extra long time to bring it to you. But I knew you wouldn't mind that because you already had what's most important, the love of your family and the blessings of the Great Lion. But it is never too late to remember Him and celebrate His love.
Merry Christmas and long live Aslan!
It was signed, with a great many flourishes, Father Christmas.
Lucy stood staring first at the note and then at the tree and then at the note again. And then she began to laugh aloud. Then she raced up the stairs to get Peter, Susan, and Edmund, to show them what had happened.
She clutched the note to her heart as she ran.
Truly, it was never too late.
Author's Note: Gentle Readers, I've been struggling with what to write for this Christmas. This is my tenth year writing Fan Fiction Christmas stories, and I sure didn't want to miss this one. But I've been so busy, I didn't have time for it. I was determined to have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off, but I spent those just doing nothing. My brain absolutely refused to do any writing at all. But, as Lucy found out, it's never too late to remember Him and celebrate His love, so I got busy and wrote this this evening. Merry Christmas, Happy Boxing Day, and many, many blessings for the year to come. I love you all!