Disclaimer: Christmas is the season of giving, not claiming; I do not own this story, and yet I'm giving it away to anyone who cares to read it.

Beta'd by trustingHim17, and she made it much, much better.

A New World Part II
(There's always a first visit to a new world.)

Many people wonder how Father Christmas manages to visit all the children of the world celebrating Christmas in one night, but a lot fewer have wondered how he visits every world that celebrates Christmas in one night. It's quite the undertaking, and the one time I asked him to explain it to me, his eyes twinkled, and he told me he'd explain it if I wished to take his job and give him his own, non-Christmas holiday. As that means there'd be no more time for writing, I declined. He laughed.

I don't think he meant it anyway - about explaining. He loves Christmas far too much, and so much of Christmas joy springs from mystery. And one of his greatest thrills (for he retains the joy of the heart of a child) is exploring a new world as it celebrates its very first Christmas.

This would be a short visit, Father Christmas knew, but he was smiling in merry anticipation. This new world had doors to other worlds, but they hadn't been found yet, and much of this realm was empty. So it was he bore gifts for only one place in the whole flat expanse. (Though he did take the long way to it; it was a new world, ho ho ho! For he loved new things, and there's few things better than exploring an entirely new world.) And not many gifts at that, but he smiled to think of the ones he had—a book of jokes for the Jackdaw, who would make his own new jokes as he tried to turn the pages, a new bees' nest for the Bears in a place warm enough it would survive, and a pink bow for the Elephant's neck, as she liked to look her best.

He slipped them in to the sleeping nests, caves, and various homes, but to his surprise he found them all empty.

Ah, but of course. This was their first Christmas, and Narnians would want to be together. Probably learning from the King and Queen about what this holiday was, and why they celebrated it. Father Christmas chuckled. He could picture King Frank telling the story he'd heard since he was just a little boy, and the animals listening with eager anticipation - and, of course, interrupting. No doubt they'd want to know why the animals in the stable didn't scold the innkeeper, and Father Christmas wished he'd been there to hear the new King's explanation!

He picked up his reins and went to his favorite new stop, the one he'd saved for last.

King Frank and Queen Helen's home, with their newborn child, living in a small, cozy wooden home in the middle of a clearing.

He'd known the two of them for their entire lives, of course, and Strawberry (bless me, it's Fledge now, I must remember!) had been a gift he'd given to the former cabby many years ago, with the help of young Frank's parents. Father Christmas chuckled to himself. He did like to see his presents kept well through the years; and Aslan had made Strawberry—Fledge—a very great gift indeed. He pulled the reins.

"Stop Dasher! Stop Blitzen!" he called softly. The reindeer stopped, stamping, even dancing, with excitement, and he laughed as he swung his black boots into the crisp snow and pulled his bag over his shoulder. He ran his hand over the reindeer on his side of the sleigh as he passed them, feeling their warm fur tremble with excitement under his hand. There was something about this new world that they loved.

But time to ask them that later. Quietly, Father Christmas crunched through the snow, circling the small clearing. The new Narnians were huddled together, some of them in newly erected shelters, and sleeping quite soundly. They were worn out from their first Christmas, but on each face was a look of peace and joy.

All the sleeping ones, that is. An Owl, watching from the trees, was watching him. Father Christmas smiled, nodding. What do you know, he thought to himself. Narnia is a place where I can be seen. Oh, this will make for some lovely traditions. But he still had one more visit, and he turned his attention to the royal home.

He shook his head; the Dwarves had made a fireplace for the King and Queen that had no true chimney. Narnia would have its own traditions about his entrance, and tonight was the night to begin them. The windows were far too small, and this was a welcoming country. Perhaps, in this world, he would use the doors? He set his hand on the wood, slipping though the unlocked opening as silently as England's stars shone.

Ah, there, across the room, was the cradle, set by the window. Father Christmas hummed happily, reaching into the bag and pulling out a metal ball. Cut into it, the edges carefully dulled for a child, were the constellations, and on one side was an opening within which to place a candle, when the child was older. For now, it made a good teething toy, and Father Christmas set it by the sleeping child's head, bending down to bless him with a kiss, his white beard falling on the cradle's wooden side.

Still humming happily, Father Christmas turned, and went to Queen Helen's cooking area. Already the Narnians had made her pots and pans, knives and spoons, but there was one thing they had forgotten, and Father Christmas withdrew a large, smooth rolling-pin from his bag, with bows tied on either end, and set it where she would see it when she came down to make breakfast.

Next, the King. Father Christmas smiled to himself. If the person giving the gift had a little wisdom, a King is easier to give a gift to than a Cabby. A King may often be able to gain what he wants, but he has so much more he needs. Father Christmas reached deep into his bag. Where was it, he should be able to feel it—no, that's the hard metal of a sheathed dagger, the smooth rim of a horn, where is it? Ah, here it is! In the bottom corner, of course! His fingers felt the smooth, worn cover, the crumpled page corners, and he withdrew the book with a smile. It wasn't much to look at. Foolish folk would say it had no place in the palace of a king! But here, in King Frank's homey cottage, the tattered diary fit perfectly as Father Christmas laid it on the table where King Frank would sit. The merry old man thumbed the pages, smiling. It was King Frank's own diary, filled with misspellings that gradually grew scarcer as the years went on; but it was a reminder of where the King (and Queen!) came from, and that was a good thing for a King to look back on.

And King Frank and Queen Helen would laugh till they cried at the stories written inside it. Father Christmas had rescued it from a garbage pile after the distant relatives had emptied the deserted house. Not all the best gifts are made by Elves, Father Christmas thought as he gave the book one last touch. Some are what the person makes his own blessed self!

"'Ello?" said a sleepy male voice from the door to the other room, and Father Christmas turned, smiling again. Apparently Narnia was a land where he could be seen, he thought as he put a finger to his lips, smiling at the half-awake King.

Good, that! It made the present for the next morning much easier! Father Christmas turned to the door, slipping through it again, and running to the sleigh. From his bag he drew tray after tray, a feast, and tables and chairs as well, and by the time the astonished King made it to the door, a feast had been set up in the front yard, scarlet ribbons fluttering over the snow, a feast for all the Narnians to wake up to on their first Christmas. Oh, yes, it was a good first Christmas, and a good tradition to start! Father Christmas swung himself up in his sleigh, nodded to the King and called, in memory of another tradition, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"*

OOOOO

*From "A Visit from St. Nicholas, 1823" by Clement Clarke Moore.