Disclaimer: The Doorkeeper is mine (this would be a companion to "The Doorkeeper," and that one-shot should be read first) but the doors to Narnia, or I would probably be through them. And if you object to my mixing so many fables into one story, well, Tolkien did the same to Lewis, so you're in good company. I'm still not listening to you.
Beta'd by trustingHim17.
OOOOO
Santa at Christmas is always so much work.
Oh, hush, I know you like him, and yes, I am quite sure he does more than I do—after all, I only open the doors. He goes through and visits hundreds within each world, I know. But that does not negate the difficulty of my task! Every year he makes his list, of course. He has to, his memory isn't as large as his silly, generous heart, but because he does that, I must make my list for getting him everywhere that too-large heart leads him. Oh yes, it's not so simple, not just letting him through the doors. It's much more complex than that.
No, I am no regular usher! Father Christmas has to go through hundreds of doors (which is more than most do, true, but hush about his specialness, please). Please remember that he also has to go and come within a single night. Can you imagine that? So many doors, so many worlds, so many people. And all the hurrying he has to do, to go back and forth, and to do it all in time! Now imagine me, Christmas night, hopping from door to door, opening and closing them for him and behind him, and scooting out of the way of those alarming sharp antlers! Whose silly idea was it to have antlered reindeer pull the sleigh? Each year, each door, the whole thing has to be timed perfectly to let reindeer gallop through with their hooves and antlers, as well as that huge ridiculous sleigh. My hands are worn out by the end of the night, but not as much as my poor aching head—and my eyes, staring at my watch! They have to go through at exactly the right time.
Time, time has so much to do with doors! There are times to walk through them, times to close them, times even to hide behind them. And when you walk through a door, well, that influences the time you spend beyond it. And that's the same for Father Christmas as for anyone else. So every year I must make a list of which doors the jolly (and that word's not quite a compliment, coming from me, I find jolly people objectionable) but good man needs to go through, and when, so that he may visit all his worlds during the same night. What a headache!
It's even worse when doors have to be opened for others. There was this one Christmas I had to open the doors for three ghosts, and open them again as the mortal they dragged through returned. And what a return! They took him into the past, the next day, and then years into the future! And I had to dodge to get his doors, as fast as that red-nosed reindeer, in between letting Father Christmas himself through! I took a non-negotiable break the day after. And I wasn't needed, for the mortal apparently opened a lot of new doors himself. Including ones in his heart, and those, my dear, are the hardest ones.
They are, you know. I know myself, for I try to keep mine closed, and part of the reason I object to Father Christmas is because he manages, every year, to reopen mine. He is a good man. Even if I don't particularly like his goodness, as it just...well, it makes me look so grumpy.
But this Christmas—this Christmas, my listener, is difficult even for a grumpy old man. I admit, I'm grumpier than ever I have been. That's what a hurting heart does.
This Christmas many doors have to remain shut. Many loved ones aren't able to walk through them to the warmth and light they remember. And many, many people are missing someone who will never walk through a wooden door again. Such silly things, wooden doors, or even beautiful glass ones, but…
Mortals miss the ones who don't walk through. I know.
In all of that, I've been given a new task. A harder one, harder than dodging antlers and timing sleigh rides—the hardest of all. In the months ahead of time, I've been tasked with making doors into windows. To open, not a place for a body to walk through, but a glimpse to open the doors to the heart. To connect, by sight and sound only, the lives of ones with hearts like mine, to the lives of ones with hearts like Father Christmas. And so I've come to ask you something. This year, when much changes this time of traditions, this difficult, dangerous, and lonely Christmas, will you try to make your heart's doors open? Safely, of course, sometimes with glass closed between you and someone else, and sometimes with the glass open—but please. The world needs more Father Christmases, and fewer grumpy Grinches who complain about opening doors.
Will you be someone on the other side of one of my windows?
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A/N: Hey, guys. There's a situation developing in RL that's taking up almost all of my attention, and I might disappear for a while. I'm sorry - I had several more Christmas stories planned, but I'm not sure I'll get around to writing them. If I can, I'll post them, but if I haven't answered your message, or thanked you for a review, my apologies. I'll come back when this situation resolves.