CHAPTER 2:
In which F. C.'s merry troupe argue about whether he is a gnome, human, etc. Also written for a Reddit writing prompt.
My dear Children,
Here we are again. I am frightfully sorry to say that I may be a bit late this year. Everything has been turned topsy-turvy! You will excuse me if my writing is more wobbly than usual. Perhaps you may be able to solve this terrible problem on my hands.
It all began when the North Polar Bear asked me what I am. I quite truthfully told him that I am merely Father Christmas, and Father Christmas means me. Alas, he wasn't quite satisfied with that answer and has since concluded that I am a very great gnome. Isn't he so silly?
he doz act like a nome sometimes!
He soon told everyone else as you might expect. The gnomes were quite satisfied with it until one observant chap mentioned that I get cold more quickly than them. How embarrassing! But I'm afraid that is very true. They insist that I am a very old human.
That was when Ilbereth decided to make his own guess. You remember Ilbereth, my secretary? He is quite sure that I am secretly one of the Maiar! He reasons that I am one because I am merry and dearly love music. I suspect he has been delving much too deeply into your father's stories. Not that they are bad stories if I may say so myself. In fact, they are quite enjoyable to read. But I digress.
So now Polar Bear, the gnomes, and the elves have been quarreling about my origins for the past few days. They have just now dragged Snow Man into the debate. What a din they cause! I am getting such an awful headache. I think I shall take a walk under the Northern Lights. They always cheer me up.
We are all doing well otherwise. Tell John and Priscilla I have received their letters and like them very much. I send you all tons of love and good wishes.
Your Loving
Father Christmas
It's quite clear Father Christmas is a Maia. He's old enough to be one, and he knows lots of languages. He even knows Elvish!
silly little errand boy. Maiar dont look old.
They can take on the form of old people.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Use ink the next time you write, Snow Man. We can't read your writing when you use your finger as a pen. Oh dear, Father Christmas just went outside. I fear we have angered him greatly. We have been far too loud as of late.
you are louder
Nevertheless, I think we should stop arguing. We are clearly not getting anywhere in this debate. We should apologize to Father Christmas when he returns. I think I will make him a hot cup of cocoa.
i wil fetch him some cookies. suger cookies and gingerbred make him hapy.
We are terribly sorry to have bothered you wonderful children. It is not nice to quarrel with your friends. We promise to be very good for the rest of the year.
Yours, Ilbereth, Secretary to Father Christmas
LOVE BISY NOW. North Polar Bear