How They Saved the Joy of Christmas

by blueberryscowler

Summary:

As they have everything they could wish for, and are not quite children anymore, the Grail Child Rose Dyson, the valkyrie Laura Glue and the young mapmaker Edmund McGee, along with the badger Caretaker Fred and the mechanical owl Archimedes, decide they should help Father Christmas with his work.

But when they arrive, they stumble into a great adventure, where they meet friends and enemies who are old and new at once.

Notes:

• For EternalLibrary.

Chapter 1: When John didn't want anyone to help Father Christmas

The Nursery was, of course, not really a nursery. There was no small child at Tamerlane House, but compared to most residents, the nursery's users were practically babies. Fred might have been a Caretaker of the Imaginarium Geographica, but he was also the youngest member of his family and therefore always considered a child, in a similar way to Edmund, who has always been the “little McGee.” Laura Glue was a Valkyrie, a warrior, but John, Jack and Charles were unable to see anything but the eight year old they met in the garden at the Kilns, even though she was almost Jack's height by now, and taller than the other two. Rose, though among the oldest residents of Tamerlane, still looked and felt no older than thirteen and was expected to stay that way for a while. The only longbeard allowed to enter the nursery without asking was Archimedes, for Rose's emotional security.

The room itself was large, not as large than the other rooms at the House, but nonetheless larger than a usual bedroom. The walls were painted with a simple, stylized scenery, featuring all times of the day, with a large bed near the “night” (mostly used by Laura Glue, who was the only one who didn't live on the Nameless Isles), a sofa and several large shelves filled with diverse books at "noon" and a table with four stools at “evening,” where they had muffins, tea and leprechaun crackers (without any leprechauns), while Archimedes had several branches made by an excellent woodworker for him to sit on, that sprung from each painted tree. As the the paintings on the wall changed to fit each season in the Summer Country, most parts of the picture were still in various shades of orange and red, but grey and white slowly grew more prominent.

On the bed sat Fred, and Rose lay beside him, on her back, reading a sheet of paper to the others.

“Dear Christmas Saint,

I hope you had another wonderful year, as we certainly did. It was exciting, of course, but not too adventurous to be enjoyable. Laura Glue wonders, whether you have much excitement on your island and Fred wonders how many polar bears live with you.

We all, that is Fred, Laura Glue, Edmund, me (Rose) and all people at Tamerlane House (which includes Archimedes) are very thankful for the beautiful gifts you gave to us, as they are of much use and very pretty. Thank you very much, again!

Many people, especially children, in the Archipelago and in the Summer Country have nothing, or very little, while we all do have a lot. We don't wish for any kind of toy, tool, or treat this year.

Give all you have to those who need.

We do, however, long for knowledge. My Uncle John, the Caveo Principia, told us that you are frequently writing letters to his children, which is very nice. And he also told us, that you and him met a some years ago. Now, one of us (I'd rather not say who at this point) is at many times a little sad and we know that your island is not far away from the Nameless Isles and that you could always need help with your work, especially at this time of the year.

Laura Glue is a great Valkyrie and a very experienced aviator, while Edmund McGee can find a way to anywhere and draw anything in the world. Fred is a Caretaker and Scowler, and even I can be useful if there is a helping hand needed. Archimedes is a genius, and those people always come in handy and now I would like to ask you, Father Christmas, whether we may come over, or not. Please answer on the direct way.

With love, Rose Dyson.”

She rolled over on her stomach, laying an arm around Fred, who grabbed the letter and read it to himself.

“'Tis good?” Rose asked her friends.

Laura Glue and Edmund, who sat very closely on the couch, nodded, while Archimedes made a derogative noise with his beak. “I say, we should not do this. It's ridiculous. We don't even know if this saint exists.” he said.

Fred vanished under the blanket and Rose scowled at Archimedes. “You know, he does exist. Everyone knows!” she said. “You're such a negative person, Archie.”

“If you keep that expression, your face will stay that way and you'll look your Uncle Charles for the rest of your life. Also, most people don't believe in him, especially in the Summer Country.”

“Who cares what some longbeards think, who have never even heard of the Archipelago?” Laura Glue interjected. When Edmund opened his mouth to speak, she added: “I know many children don't get what they want! So did I, very often. But there must be an explanation. There has to be.” She crossed her arms and looked out of the large window, at the seemingly endless sea.

 

“Uncle John! Uncle John!” Rose exclaimed as she ran down the stairway to the library at Tamerlane House. “I need you to send this to the Christmas Saint.”

“A letter for Santa?” Twain asked. “Aren't you a bit too old?”

“I haven't been much younger last year,” Rose answered, “so, please Uncle John, could you do this?” John put the book he was just reading away, took the letter from Rose and looked at the sender.

“So, there's one letter from all of you? Including Archimedes?” he asked her.

“Sounds economical to me,” Charles said. “What do you children wish for?” he asked.

“We want to visit Father Christmas and help him preparing the presents and send them to the children of all worlds,” the girl answered honestly. Then, there was a silence in the room that made her feel uncomfortable.

“Impossible!” John exclaimed. “Father Christmas doesn't want any visitors.”

“And he certainly won't need any help with his work.” Twain added.

“Archimedes wouldn't like it and it's very clammy over there. He could get rusty!” said Jack.

“It's really a long journey and you wouldn't enjoy it at all. Just work, no Christmas magic.” That was Dickens.

Everyone looked over to Charles who just made an odd expression and focused on his book about Co-Inherence. “I need Fred over here,” he said when the looks felt too uncomfortable for him. “You know. Caretaker things. Like...”

“Reading?” she finished the sentence for him.

“Exactly. And making everyone happy. Don't you see no ones happy when you kids go?” he asked rhetorically.

“And we might need Edmund and Laura Glue in case there's an... adventure.” John said. “So, you can't go. It's useless. Just write a pretty letter and ask for some candy and new books and that purple hair dye you always use, that's much better. Good night!”

“And Merry Christmas,” Charles added, with an incredibly stupid looking grin.

He's making fun of the others, Rose thought to herself. I wonder what they are all worrying about.

Chapter 2: When the Children went to help Father Christmas

“Told you so,” Archimedes said. “He doesn't exist and that's why you can't visit him. Simple logic.”

Rose shook her head. “No, in that case we could have still sent the letter. They could have made up an answer so we couldn't go there. He has to be true. Simple logic, Archie.”

Laura Glue snorted and let herself fall on the large bed. “Longbeards,” she said, “always have to kill the fun. Charles is different, he's odd. But he knows as much as them. And Jack would probably like to come with us, but he's still a longbeard.”

Edmund said beside her and he was silent until now. “Perhaps there is a secret or danger we should not learn about. A problem they think we couldn't solve.”

They all nodded in agreement.

“But we can solve any problem,” said Fred. “A Valkyrie, a cartographer, a Caretaker, the Grail Child and a mechanic owl is all that is needed to fix somethin' - the Little Whatsit says so!”

Again everyone nodded.

“So, how do we get the letter to Father Christmas?” Rose wondered.

“If there's really a problem, we couldn't wait for an answer, anyway. Can't you make a trump, Edmund?” Laura Glue asked her friend.

He shook his head. “I have to spare them. And that would also be too dangerous, we could end up at the North Pole.”

Fred was still browsing through the Little Whatsit. “We need to take a ship,” he said.

“Did you read that in your book?” Edmund asked.

“No, that's jus' a Caretaker's common sense,” the badger replied, not looking up from his reading matter. “If I am correct, we have one small ship somewhere outside on the island. No, not form the Little Whatsit either,” he added when Edmund opened his mouth to talk again.

“We take the boat and travel there.”

“And how do we find his island?” Edmund asked.

“Fred's a Caretaker. He can take a map out of the Imaginarium Geographica!” Laura Glue said, but the badger shook his head.

“I can't without anyone noticing. But I can take a look at it. It's not too far away, anyway.”

“Apparently, I don't have a say in this,” said Archimedes. “But someone has to take care of you all, so I will come with you.” Rose smiled and hugged her companion, who did his best to make an unhappy face, although he did not succeed.

 

The nights at the Nameless Isles were very dark, and very beautiful. The stars, which were not truly stars, shone bright but while looked beautiful in the sky, they did not make it easier to see in the night. The quintet, ready to travel to Father Christmas, to solve any of his problems, had just sneaked out of Tamerlane House and was now heading towards the little boathouse near the small coast.

“Do you need any help?” came a voice from the shed. It was Charles, who stood in the opened door and who looked at the children and the animals.

“Yes, actually, we do,” said Rose, and Laura Glue and Fred nodded in agreement.

Edmund looked slightly perplexed and Archimedes seemed annoyed.

“Why do you tell him so?” Edmund whispered into Laura Glue's ear, but she ignored him and walked towards Charles.

“So, how can you help us?” she asked.

“Well,” the Caretaker began, “I have already prepared your ship, and I have also copied a simple map of the Northern Islands. I hope you don't mind, Fred, that you can't take the original with you. But do take your Little Whatsit.”

The children looked at him in disbelief.

“By the way, here's your provisions,” he added and handed a large bag over to Edmund.

“Thank you,” he stammered and looked into the bag, in which he couldn't see anything, as it was too dark.

“What supplies will you be taking with you?” Charles asked.

“Well, the Little Whatsit, some paper and pens for Edmund, a few empty trumps, muffins an' a knife,” said Fred.

Charles looked at him, then patted his head, which, surprisingly, didn't offend Fred at all. “Then to this I have added some more empty trumps, Fred's anabasis machine—be careful, I tell you, and stop keeping it in places where anyone could find it!—some clockwork mice, leprechaun crackers, butter and cheese sandwiches, mayonnaise and peanut butter sandwiches with ketchup and crisps for Rose, and some water. You cannot forget water.” He looked at them and made a pause. “And, a few copies of the letters Father Christmas had sent to John's children. You may need them.”

Then, he hugged Fred and the girls, shook Edmund's hand and waved to Archimedes.

“Don't worry about the others. They might not want you to visit Father Christmas, but I do.”

With that being said, he walked back to Tamerlane House, in his typically wooden manner.

“That was... highly unusual,” said Edmund.

“No, it wasn't,” said the others.

“Not, if you know that odd man,” said Archimedes. “He's like Rose. He never behaves like a normal person, until there is something terribly wrong,” the owl explained.

“Thank you, Archie. Now, I think we should sleep a few hours, I am sure it's safe enough. Uncle Charles won't tell the others about us being here.”

And so, they slept.

 

Laura Glue was the first to wake up, shortly before dawn, and began to prepare the boat, before she woke up Edmund, and then the others.

“I think we should start now,” she said.

Rose gasped and looked at her. “Yes, I think you are right. Archie, what do you think?”

“Do you have to consult me about everything?” the Owl asked. “I think it's fine,” he said in a milder way.

Rose piloted the boat, Edmund read the maps, Laura Glue and Archimedes flew around to look out for land or possible dangers every few minutes, and Fred took care of most everything else. He frequently read in the Little Whatsit and in Father Christmas' Letters, but he also brought food and drinks to the others, read to them aloud whenever they had a chance to listen, and discussed the plans on how they could help the Christmas Saint with Laura Glue, when it was Archimedes' turn to fly around.

“I wonder what his problem might be,” said Laura Glue.

Fred scowled and looked around, as if he'd find the answer in the sea.
“If it were with wrappin' his presents, they'd have let us go,” the badger said.

“I just wunder, why Scowler Charles is fine with us goin' an' Scowler John is nut,”

“Probably, because Uncle John is very cautious, and Uncle Charles is not,” answered Rose, who just joined the two.

“Have we been wrong all the time, and our boat is truly a Dragonship?” asked Laura Glue, jokingly. “Or is the wind just right?”

Their boat was, in fact, an exact replica of the Indigo Dragon, albeit much smaller.

“The wind is perfect, my dear Laura Glue,” said Rose. “We are to reach Father Christmas tomorrow, or at least the day after.”

She sighed and laid on her back. “I wanted to meet him ever since I have first heard of him at school in the Summer Country. Only small children there believe he is real,” she added.

“Most think he's been made up by their parents. Even their parents think so.”
Laura Glue snorted. “Longbeards believe all they make up. That's what makes them so dangerous.”

Fred looked at her. “You mean they made Father Christmas up, but believe in him?” he asked.

“No, Fred. They made up that they had made him up and they believe that they don't believe in him,” the Valkyrie answered.

“That makes sense,” said Rose.

 

Rose was right, and they reached the Christmas Saint's Island the next day.
To everyone's surprise, it was not particularly cold, at least not as cold as they'd imagine the North Pole to be.

“'Tis pretty,” said Fred, and all others nodded in agreement, with the exception of Archimedes, who made a snarky remark and flew around.

“He doesn't like to be proven wrong,” said Rose, and again she was right.

“This is incredible,” said Edmund, cautiously taking a shimmering candy cane from a pine.

“I knew it,” said Laura Glue, who stepped forward.

The Christmas Saint's Island was truly beautiful, and nobody disagreed on that matter. It resembled a beautiful, wintery pine wood, but everything was decorated like an old fashioned cottage at Advent time. There were penguins, small elves, and at least three polar bears.

“I wunder which one is the one from the letters,” said Fred and Laura Glue nodded.

“Surely not this one!” she said, pointing on one who was decorating a tree. Polar Bear from the book was clumsy, as everyone knew. This must have been a more competent, though lesser known bear.

“I wonder,” said Rose, “why all of them seem so sad,” and the companions looked more carefully at Father Christmas' workers. It was true, they looked awfully unhappy. None of them smiled, few of them sang, so much unlike every description of the Saint's helpers they knew.

“It's the problem, of course,” said Fred and stepped forward to greet a penguin.

“Well, you're surely an odd bird,” the black and white animal said and Fred scowled at him.

“I think I am genetically closer to the polar bears than to you,” he answered.

The bird made a sound not unlike Archimedes and then left.

“Very friendly animals here,” said Fred and tried to greet someone else. “Where's Father Christmas, I mean, where is the Saint?” he asked a passing elf.

The small creature looked at him. He looked much like a human, except he was much smaller, and had a nose like a baby and ears like a faun. “I don't know,” he said.

“Fine,” said Laura Glue. “And who does know?”

The elf looked up at her and for a moment he seemed almost fearful.

“You should know!” he said. “It's been people like you, who took him away!”

Chapter 3: When Polar Bear told what He knew

“People like us?” asked Edmund. “What do you mean?”

The elf stared at him in the coldest way he was capable of, which was not truly cold.

“You should know, human,” he said. “Who do you want to get now?”

“We want to get... ah, screw it,” said Laura and dragged Edmund and Rose by their arms behind a pine, away from the elves and penguins. Fred considered to follow them, but didn't.

“This is useless. But at least we have found the problem,” Laura Glue said and Edmund nodded.

“But who kidnaps Father Christmas?” asked Rose. Her eyes were widely opened and she looked unusually pale.

“I shouldn't be too surprised,” said Archimedes who just landed on her outstretched arm. “Humans can come up with the most destructively idiotic things. That what makes them different from animals,” he added arrogantly.

“Especially longbeards,” said Laura Glue. “Told you they'd do rubbish.”

“I just wish to find someone to help us,” said Rose and looked around her. “Could you try and find someone, Archie?” she asked her companion owl, who immediately shook his head and flew a few feet away, to keep a distance to the others, much to Rose's sorrow.

“He's just peeved 'cause he wasn't right,” said Laura Glue to comfort her friend.

“I'm not and I can still hear you!” squeaked the mechanical bird, but no one reacted.

It was Edmund who decided they should explore the island before doing anything else. Perhaps they would find hints, or help.

“This place is extraordinary,” he said.

“And not yet cartographed. I know what you want, Ed,” added Laura Glue, winking at him.

“Drawing it down could be helpful. And we have to look around, anyways,” the young mapmaker said, and so they began.

The island itself was about the size of Avalon, much smaller than the Summer Country's Arctic, and it was filled with pines, firs and similar evergreen trees. Most were decorated like traditional Christmas trees, but some of them were adorned in certain themes, like candy (it was difficult to keep Laura Glue away from it), angels (much to Rose's fascination), and various animal figurines.

“Fred should see this,” noted Edmund. “Where is he, actually?” he wondered.

The girls shrugged. “I assume he wants to talk to the polar bears. As far as I know, they're tame,” said Rose and so, they went on.

The snow was just a bit warmer than real snow, like a cool drink in Summer, and the air was fresh, but nonetheless soft. There were several tiny huts that seemed much too small to contain more than one person at once. When Rose opened one of them, they discovered that they led down with stairs. Laura Glue wanted to follow one, but Edmund held her back. Also, there were small tables with benches, strayed all over the island, to rest and eat and drink on them. The only silent animals they saw were heavy horses and reindeer who pulled sleds filled with presents, trees, and elves sitting on them. Even the animals were decorated with bells, baubles, springs holly and, oddly enough—

“Thimbles!” exclaimed Laura Glue, when she pulled one from a horse she stroked. An elf grabbed it from her hand and put it back on the harness.

Whenever they met a penguin or elf, they were mostly ignored, but sometimes they got highly unfriendly stares.

“I wonder why they don't attack us, considering they obviously see us as their enemy,” said Edmund.

“Go on and suggest it!” snapped Laura Glue back.

“Oh please, don't argue,” pleaded Rose. “We have enough problems already.”

And that was true, so they continued walking until Edmund told them to stop.

“I think we have already seen enough to write down the basics. Also, I think this is a good place for a trump,” he added.

“A trump?” asked Rose. “Don't you think that would be quite a risk?”

He shook his head and began, without saying anything more.

 

Meanwhile, Fred had tea.

“Thanks a lot, that's very generous of you,” he told the polar bear.

“I'd have never dreamed of meeting the Polar Bear,” he added. “You're famous in the Archipelago, and the Summer Country. Did ya know?”

The bear nodded, and topped up the tea in Fred's cup. “Trying to bring the Father, and still saying 'thank you' for some tea. Very polite, you batchers. I like you.”

Fred smiled. “It's badger, and I like you, too. We're very distant cousins, by the way—both caniformia.”

The bear nodded. “Father Christmas took me to California once,” he said. “When have you been there?”

To avoid further embarrassments on either side, Fred switched back to a more important matter. “So, you said these men wore simple grey suits and bowlers. Did you notice anything else?”

The bear mused for a while. “Black glasses and gloves.”

Fred leaned back in his chair, as that description didn't help him too much.

“Have you ever heard of Charles Williams?” he asked the bear.

“Charles who?”

“Williams. I was his apprentice before I became a Caretaker, he is a good friend, not only of me but also of John Tollers.”

The bear scowled at him. “You don' talk like an 'nimal,” he said.

Fred shrugged and smiled at him. “I do, when I am excited. But Caretakers should not talk with too much accent, I hope you don't mind,” he added. "I am a real badger, don't worry.”

“Well...” the bear began. “If he is a friend of John Tollers, I shall like him.”

“Yes, but do you know him?” Fred persisted, but the bear did not answer.

“Where are your friends?” he asked instead.

“Outside exploring,” said Fred. “They want to help, too. You don't hate humans, do you?”

The bear looked at him. “Would I help making presents for them if I did?”

Of course not, thought Fred. But why do the others?

“Is Father Christmas a human?” he asked casually.

“No. He is not Saint Nicholas, ya know? Not exactly, at least.”

Fred chuckled. “I know, of course. But he is a Saint, or at least people call him so. Why is that?”

Now the bear scowled at him again, but not in a distrustful way. “Do ya believe in Father Christmas?” he asked.

“Why, of course,” said Fred.

“Do ya believe in Saints?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And do ya believe in Christmas?”

“Of course I do!” explained the badger.

“Do all people believe in each?”

Fred shook his head.

“See?” said the bear. “That's why he is called the Christmas Saint. He is the Patron of Christmas, he is the one to make sure people have a beautiful Christmas. He brings them presents and food, even if they have no munny, they just need the faith.”

Fred thought about it for a while. “What is,” he began, “when people need, but only the children believe?”

“Then,” said the bear, “the parents do nut believe the truth, but a lie they use t' explain to themselves what they dun want to believe. They think they had enough to buy these things. But poor people yewshly believe more, I think.”

“You said he is not exactly Saint Nick, but he admires him and he based himself on him, in some ways,” explained the bear.

“He based himself on him?” asked Fred. It seemed a strange sentence. The bear scowled and then said: “He is a Maker, after all.”

They sat for a while and drank the rest of their tea, but they didn't talk any more. Fred met the Polar Bear outside and he recognized him immediately as the one mentioned in Father Christmas' letters—he was the only one unable to decorate a tree without crashing every single bauble. Unlike the Saint's other helpers he was immediately open to him and led him down a stair in one of the small huts, down to the room they were now in. It was surprisingly large and very warm, because of a the large fireplace. There was few furniture, just three chairs, a table, one bookshelf opposite the fireplace and a large rug. Aside from that, there was, as expected, Christmas decoration—a garland made of fir branches and holly, and a medium sized Christmas tree beside the bookshelf.

“I know you don't want to answer any questions about Charles,” Fred looked at the bear in an unusually serious way, and so did he speak.

“But he must know more about it. He told me to keep my Anabasis Machine with me, and some Trumps, so he had to know we would leave the island.”

“Let's find your friends,” said the bear.

Chapter 4: When Nobody found Archimedes but He found Something

"Got ya!"

Edmund looked up from his work for the first time in two hours.

"Fred! Where have you... oh," he said, as Fred looked on his map. "I should have asked you first, but..."

"It's allright. We'll need it soon enough," said Fred and patted the boy's head. "Where are the girls?" he asked his friend.

"The girls? They must have left when I was working... they..."

But the Polar Bear was already calling. "Fund them!" he called over to them, which sounded a lot like a roar. "They were trying to climb down a hutstair!"

He was indeed coming with a girl to each side of him. It was a surprisingly beautiful picture, Edmund thought. They looked good with a bear.

"We have to tell you something," said Fred when all gathered together to talk.

"Father Christmas has been kidnapped by two Englishmen in grey suits, and I assume Charles sensed sumthin' about it. We have to go to them Summer Country to find him. And don't worry about the elves and penguins, they're naturally cautious. Polar Bear, can you tell them what you've said to me?" The bear nodded.

"It was last month, when the mens camme and stole Father Christmas. They wore grey suits and round hats and black glasses and gloves and they came in an automobile but thru nuthin'. One of them was a bit taller an' thinner than the other, but they looked similar enuff to mix 'em up. They din't tell who they were nor what they wanted nor why they came, just opened every hut on the island, but they din't find Father til he came to greet all us here who were working. He's very nice, ya know? At least... he often is."

The bear made a pause, but no one said or asked anything. They knew they had to wait.
Then, he continued: "I'm not sure, but methinks he knew them. He looked at 'em in a way that said something. I just don't know what. But he woun't look at a stranger that way."
He paused again.

"Of what time where they dressed?", asked Rose.

"Contempray, methinks. A bit older maybe. I think people dressed like that when... when was I in England to see... ten years ago, probly."

Rose nodded. "Was there anything interesting about them or the way they looked?"

The bear shook his large head and made a sound that reminded Rose of a sad laugh.

"Th' plainest people to grace - or disgrace - this Earth an' any other.

“But there was something they said. It was in an odd language, not English or anythin' I'd know. I have heard many languages when traveling with Father Christmas, and he speaks ev'ry single one, and I sing many of 'em. Singing's much easier than talking in strange languages," he added with a nod to Fred. "It sounded very mo... momo..."

"Monotonous?" helped Edmund.

"Yes. No ups an' downs, no feels. Very odd tongue. Heard no animal or human or being talk like that before."

Rose sighed and looked over to Laura Glue, who seemed equally clueless, and to Edmund who was once again lost in thought.

"Did you even listen?" she asked him, but it was Fred who said "yes". Then, the small mammal straightened his back and said: "We have to go now. Where's Archimedes?" Nobody knew.

"Well, he'll find us, we'll go to the boat."

Once they have reached the Indigo Dragon's miniature cousin, Fred took Edmund's work and closely studied it with the boy's help, while he sent the girls to find their owl companion.

"He has to be close," he told them. "And I am sure he learnt more on his own."

It can be uncomfortable, thought Rose, when he gets so authoritarian. She, of all people, did by no means mind taking directions from an animal (especially a talking one) but it was unusual for Fred. Or actually, she then thought, it's not. Fred often behaved like that, in sudden outbursts. Each time, Rose thought it was unusual for him, although it happened often enough to be considered his typical way of behaviour in important situations. He was cute, of course, but he was also a Caretaker of the Imaginarium Geographica and a highly educated man.

Archimedes was nowhere to be found, not in the air ("he's not up and not down so I can't find him, neh", said Laura Glue), not in a hut (or down the stairs) or in the small woods.

"Are you sure we have looked everywhere by now?" asked Rose her friend who sadly nodded. "Yes, I am."

Then let's call him, thought Rose. "Archie! Archimedes!" the girls called out loud.

"Archie, come!" screamed Rose. "Maths are rubbish!" shouted Laura Glue, but it was all useless.

"He won't come that way," said a very deep voice behind them. It was the Polar Bear and he was looking into Laura Glue's and then Rose's eyes. "I have asked my fellows and they have not seen the owl since you've all parted and they never lie." He carefully stood on his hind legs and, surprisingly gently, laid a paw on each girl's back. "We should go back, perhaps the badger knows more."

But here, the Polar Bear was wrong. Fred knew nothing. "I went on my own much earlier, if you remember. But he can't be kidnapped, too. He might've went back to Tamerlane."

"Or I might just as well have saved your butts!" said a snarky voice behind their backs.

No one said anything, but Rose embraced Archimedes as soon as she could.

"I have found something, look if you can."

The owl released a tiny, shiny thing from his claw and laid it on a small bench.

"It's a gearwheel!" exclaimed Edmund, who examined it through a lens. "Made of..."

"Yes?" the owl persisted. "That's cavorite! So it must be from a friend..."

"Or an enemy," finished Fred. Everyone, including Archimedes, stared at him in shock.

"The watchmaker is not bound to us," the badger explained. "But he is the only one who'd use cavorite for his watches. John, Jack, Charles and Dickens are the only Caretakers who've ever been here in ages, and none of them have damaged watches, and even if they did, Archimedes couldn't have found a part of it after so much time on the snow.

“Where did you find it?" he asked the brilliant bird.

 

Chapter 5: When It smelled like Trump and Fred knew a Lot

The mechanical mathematician owl called Archimedes led the group consisting of Rose Dyson (grail child and Imago), Laura Glue (valkyrie and former Lost Boy), Edmund McGee (cartographer and Trump maker), Fred (Caretaker of the Imaginarium Geographica) and Polar Bear (assistant to Father Christmas) to a place far away, on the other side of the island.

Walking directly through the isle was a surprisingly long way, thought Laura Glue. She was not used to using her legs for long distances, and while it certainly didn't exhaust her, she did notice the unusual feeling. She looked at the others who went seemingly normal, but she herself felt odd while walking.

What she didn't know was, that the rest of the group did, too. Especially Rose felt highly uncomfortable, but like her friend, she said nothing and went on.

Edmund was afraid, but he would have never told anyone. He knew he shouldn't go there, but he did.

Fred smelled something, but he was not sure what. It vaguely reminded him of Tamerlane House and of some of his friends, some of his enemies. He saw a picture in his head that might have been Charles, or Ransom, or Chaz.

Ransom, he thought. Why him? But also Edmund. He looked at the boy. There was nothing with him.

Polar Bear thought of the day Father Christmas was stolen.


"Here it is!" said Archimedes and landed directly before the group arrived at the place where he'd found the gearwheel. It was the North Coast of The Christmas Saint's Island and it looked much unlike the rest. There was very little decoration and, surprisingly, much less snow.

It reminded Rose and Edmund of a late February day in England.

“It smells like Trump!” Fred suddenly exclaimed and they all turned around to him.

“The ink,” he continued, “the colour and the... magic.” The humans nodded, especially Edmund.

The boy went closer to Fred. “You tell them?” he asked and the badger nodded.

“Tell them what?” asked the valkyrie sharply.

“Where Father Christmas was kidnapped to, and what Charles knows about it,” answered Fred. “Come,” he said, “lets find a more comfortable place to sit down and talk.”


In a nearby wood, they found one of those small picnic tables, although it was in a much lesser state than the others. “You don't go here much?” asked Edmund and the Polar Bear shook his head.

“It's neither pretty nor useful,” he explained and lay beside the companions in the snow.

Archimedes preferred a bench on a pine tree for himself and watched the others from above.

“You know, it is, the Scowlers John, Jack and Charles were not too meet in 1917 if it all went as it was expected, but they did, 'cause the Winter King killed Professor Sigurdsson.”

They all nodded and told Fred, who made a dramatic pause, to go on.

“They should have met in the thirties, in Oxford. And then they would have become Caretakers, as til then, the other three would still have been complete - if Scowler Stellan wasn't killed.

I don't want to disrespect Scowler Jack's privacy, but... once he made a choice, and that choice was right and good. You follow so far?” All nodded and the badger went on with his story:

“But he was expected to choose wrongly, which in the end would have turned out to be good for all - except some. But as that did not happen, as he unexpectedly chose to do the right thing, that planned future turned into a history, that never truly happened. It is true, but not real.”

“So you mean, because they met two decades earlier, the world as planned was turned into another history?” asked Laura Glue, but the Caretaker shook his head and said:

“No. It went much differently. A choice can change the course of the world and turn the future into a history. A circumstance can make another dimension. After all, they were chosen to meet and to become Caretakers, but not then.

Nobody suspected that anything happened at all, until Charles discovered the truth and he shared it with Scowler John, Scowler Jack, The Prime Caretaker, Poe, and me.

What happened was the creation of a temporary dimension, and a very dry one, too. A different version of the dimension of the Summer Country we know, but disconnected from the Archipelago, as there was no connection needed - there already was the version we all know.

In other words, the original became the rip-off, if ya know what I mean. The Scowlers met each other in the expected time, but didn't become Caretakers, but instead lived through some things they would not have because they'd have spent less time in the Summer Country.

Still, they became authors, as the knowledge and inspiration from their realer and truer counterparts reached them, and so did the many myths and stories that arrived in the Summer Country before 1917. They din't know 'bout the truth, but they'd feel it deep down, don't you know?”

He made a pause and looked at the others. Rose was the only one to speak.

“You said 'temporary', what does that mean?” she asked. “In this case, that is.”

Fred unwrapped a sandwich he kept in his bag and slowly ate it until he continued.

Talking made him always hungry, as he still didn't feel as much at ease with it as a human would.

Also, he liked to eat, even when there was a stressful situation - or especially then.

“Some things that were planned, and expected were not affected by 1917, had happened anyway. Through this, the dimensions were connected again and things went on as they did. That was when World War II ended and when Charles died. No one is exactly sure which date sealed the dimensions together actually.

As it is, that dimension is an in-between of a dimension and a history, and more of a pendant to our Summer Country than anything else. But it's dry and sad and without all magic and even our Scowlers were much different at that time. Charles caught a short glimpse of them, when experimenting with dimensions. His counterpart, interestingly, did so too,” he explained.

“And that's where Father Christmas was kidnapped to - the Dry Dimension's Summer Country in 1940, a year after World War II began, when nobody was happy and when there was no way to the Archipelago at all.

They went through a Trump," he added.

“That's why it smells so odd.”

 

Chapter 6: When Oxford was sad and our Children looked strange

“Why would the Echthroi kidnap Father Christmas to a temporary dimension in World War II?” asked Laura Glue and put everyone's thoughts into a proper, albeit peculiar, sentence.

“To make everyone sad, especially the children,” said, surprisingly, Edmund.

“Then, when so much was needed, when children lost their parents and when there was a shortage in everything, then Christmas would be ruined, from the start of the War, to the end.

It's not the presents, it's the spirit. He is not merely a gift bringer, but a...”

“Saint,” Polar Bear said.

Fred sighed. “When everyone lost hope, there won't be an end of the war. That's what they'd try. If we're lucky, they are truly only at the beginning of war right now. If the children will be corrupted, especially those who are young in the beginning, but old enough when the War goes on, to influence its going on their own, then there would be much less hope. And from that place, Father Christmas couldn't find his way to the Archipelago - not with a Dragonship, not through Avalon or by accident. Only by Trump.

But luckily, Little Edmund McGee over here made a Trump.”

Edmund, who was at least twice of Fred's size and very close to him in human years, said nothing about the name Fred gave to him, but instead handed out the Trump he had made.

“That's where we go through,” he explained. “Oxford, 1940. Will you, Rose?”

The girl looked up. “Archie? Will you come?”

Without saying anything, the bird came down and sat on her outstretched arm, with which she also held the card.

The picture looked very grey, it was a cloudy spring afternoon in Oxford and very few, but very sad, people in shabby, colourless suits walked on the unusually ungreen grass.

As she concentrated the picture grew larger until it finally grew to the size of a large door.

“Goodbye, Polar Bear,” she said gently and stroked his head.

“Goodbye,” said all of them and the great bear lowered his head.

“Thank you,” he said and sounded not much like a bear, when all went through the door.


“Aaargh!”

Edmund let out a scream and clung closely to Laura Glue, until he noticed what he did and embarrassedly distanced himself - but only a small bit.

“What was that?” he asked.

“An auto mobile. Similar to a principle,” explained Rose. “Not a big deal, actually.”

Edmund stared at her in shock. “A very big deal, if you ask me! A huge deal! Do principles stink like they want to kill you or roar like a wild beast? They don't!” he exclaimed and raised quite a lot of attention. “Look!” said a student to another. “A girl with wings, another with pink hair, a chap dressed like he was from the 18th century, an owl and... is that a badger in a Little Lord Fauntleroy Suit?” But when his friends looked over to them, they were already gone.

“See, whatever you take might push your studying, but... you might better stop it,” said the other.


“We need to find Father Christmas!” said Laura Glue.

“Yes,” said Rose and Edmund.

“We need to find Charles!” said Fred.

“Yes,” said Archimedes.

The humans stared at them.

“Are you serious? He won't recognize us and we can't take any risks!” said Rose, but the animals didn't care.

“Do you want to knock on every door in Oxford, or even England or the whole Summer Country, and ask if they were hiding Father Christmas?” asked Archimedes.

“We shouldn't be seen by too many people here, anyway. It's much more dangerous than the Summer Country we know.”

At that point, they all agreed.

“Where can we look for him? At the Kilns?” asked Rose but Fred shook his head.

“Bird and Baby, prob'ly,” he said. “Perhaps with Scowler John and Scowler Jack,” he added and so they went.

Fred, Laura Glue and Rose were shocked to see Oxford in such a state. It looked not truly different from how they knew it, but it seemed incredibly sad. No one they saw seemed light hearted or happy or at least content.

“They walk around like those who lost their shadow,” said Laura Glue and shivered.

There were few cars, but made Edmund a big deal of each one.

“Just wait till you see an air plane,” said Rose and laughed, probably the first laugh heard in Oxford for a year.

“An air plane? What's that?” asked Laura Glue with wide eyes and a very excited tone in her voice.

“You be curiouser and curiouser, neh, Laura our Glue?” asked Rose and laughed again.

“You'd like it. Or not, depending on the view. It's like a principle or auto mobile, too. But it won't drive on wheels - it's flying.”

Laura Glue gasped. “Flying? And where's the persons to be?” she asked.

“Inside it,” explained Fred.

“That's not possible,” said Archimedes.

“It well is,” said Fred. “You'll see soon enough if you're lucky. Or not,” he added and the mood sank again.

“If we be lucky, we'll save Christmas. And the world, of course,” said Laura Glue.


Of all things in Oxford, the Eagle and Child, fondly named Bird and Baby, looked just as all but Edmund and Laura Glue knew it.

“I din't have the chance to see it, when I was here,” said Laura Glue. “Actually, I only saw the Kilns and London. But this looks interesting. What do you think, Edmund?” she asked but her friend just swallowed and looked at the building.

“England has changed in many ways. But this... is fantastic.” His face truly beamed with joy and he hugged Laura Glue tightly until he awkwardly let go of her as the others looked.

The two went in first and Rose turned to Archimedes and Fred.

“Archie, I think it would be best if you'd wait outside. On a tree maybe?” she asked.

“Do you think all those intellectuals couldn't handle a mechanical bird? I'd have expected them to be interested in me. Some of them might have studied my work, after all.” Archimedes complained but flew out to find a fitting tree immediately.

Rose chuckled and went down on her knees to look Fred directly in the face. It was, in many ways, an odd face. It was cute and serious, simple and intelligent, animal and somehow human, modest, but authoritarian. He was completely innocent and uncorrupted, yet he had knowledge of the harshest and darkest, but also the most beautiful and good things in the world. In that way, he was very similar to herself. But while she was odd and behaving peculiar, compensating her physical, her intellectual, her emotional and her actual age and experience, Fred was simply Fred. A young, happy, mostly normal talking badger, who was hardly any different from the rest of his kind, with the sole exception being his better education. But in recent times, he seemed incredibly sad and Rose knew not how to help him.

“You be fine, Fred?” she asked and he nodded.

“We should have you with us when addressing Charles - if he's there, that is. It was your idea and he might feel who you are. But it's too dangerous now. Make sure you're not seen, yes?”

Fred looked at her, and he said yes. “But do you know,” he added verbally, “you don't make any better impression.” They both laughed, but it was not happy.

“Yes, my dear, but while they'd think we're loony - which we very well may be - they could be dangerous for you. Haven't you seen King Kong, my dear? I know, a bad example.”

They laughed again and she kissed him and followed her friends, while Fred made sure to hide in the bushes.

 

Chapter 7: Looks at Charles and Mesopotamian Trumps

"Blimey, neh, what much it looks like the Flying Dragon," said Laura Glue while looking around and Rose and Edmund nodded in agreement. Of course, the Bird was not magical or in any way special, but it did have a similar feeling to it, in all the way it was. It was full, they noticed, and people were much more lighthearted than they were outsides. "All men, neh?", the Lost Boy (who was a girl) chuckled and fixed her eyes on a group of men in one corner of the room who were talking to each other while drinking beer and smoking pipes. The only one without beer (but wine instead) and with out a pipe was - "Uncle Charles!", exclaimed Rose, but Edmund held her back. "And Uncle John, Uncle Jack and... Uncle Hugo!", she added with a lighter voice. Some men looked at them, appaled by their strange appearances, but no one said anything. "We will sit at that empty table now.", said Edmund and led the girls to a corner, not too far away or too close to the men that were their friends, albeit they didn't know.

"Two pints of ale and a glass of milk, please", said Edmund to the innkeeper, and handed him the money he knew was the right sum. They had to be able to leave fast, and he'd much rather pay earlier. "Now, that looks old.", the man said as he looked on the coins. Edmund was uncertain what to say, but Laura Glue helped him. "Yes, as old as his clothes, you see? We found in an old bust in our house, as we don't have much anymore in these dreadful times, you know?", she explained with a voice, that made her sound like a horribly sad child.
"Yes, I see", said the innkeeper as he eyed Laura Glue's wings and overknee boots and Rose's brightly pink hair. "Our parents worked in the threatre and had some nice costumes.", added Rose, smiling. "You have to wear what you still have left, you know?"
The man slowly nodded. "Yes," he said. "that's certainly true. I will bring your drinks in a minute."

Edmund, still perplexed, looked after him. "You...", he began to say.
"We know we're brilliant, but thank you very much, neh?", said Laura Glue and beamed at him. "Why can you two drink beer and I will have milk? I'm a million times older than you!", asked Rose, but her exaggeration was merely playful. She didn't like beer anyways, and a seemingly thirteen year old asking for wine would have seemed all the more unusual.

She looked around, still smiling, and then focused on the group she knew was called the Inklings. Hugo Dyson, Owen Barfield and Warnie Lewis looked just like she knew them and that felt well. Jack was much fuller and a bit balder, but he also looked cheerful and drank a lot of beer. He sat right beside John, who looked older and more tired than she knew him, and a bit more serious. He was, nontheless, in a good humour, too and friendly discussed with all of them. Charles sat opposite Jack and drank from his glass of wine. He looks the strangest., thought Rose. He was thinner, older and, somehow, frailer than she knew him. It seemed that the time in the Archipelago, unlike she would have expected it, did by now means cost his energy or tire him, but did the opposite. This Charles looked like he had lived through much more hardship and stress, although he was simply and writer and editor in London, and now Oxford, facing not more, but less than her Uncle Charles. Or did he?, she asked herself.
After all, the time not spent travelling through magical lands and time, dimensions and space could have been used differently. There! He looked at her. It was a short, but unmistable stare. I look odd., she then remembered. But of all people who'd be the least shocked to see someone odd? That was Charles, of course. But every Charles? Even this Charles? Or merely her Uncle, who had seen more stranger things than herself.

He wrote a book about the Holy Grail before he met me. Perhaps he sensed her? Sensed that she was close to what he longed to find? Perhaps he subconsciously knew what her Charles knew, as Fred had said? She boxed Laura Glue with her elbow, who, instead to look at Charles as Rose has wanted, let out a shouted curse which made almost all Inklings look to the small group.

"Really, an Angel shouldn't curse like that.", said the man who somehow was Jack and smiled at Laura Glue. "Neh, Jacksie, that be right.", replied Laura Glue and her companions looked at her in shock. Calling her friend, who didn't know he was, by his nickname was fully intentional, although she knew it would seem like a mistake to the others.
"How do you know that name?", said Jack, but Laura Glue did not answer.
She smiled at him, like she did as a child and then continued to drink her ale, just as Edmund did. Rose kept staring at them until she said: "Mr Williams, we would like to discuss something with you later, when you have finished talk with your friends."

The reaction was surprising, to all of them. John scowled and stiffened a bit, Jack made an odd kind of grin, but he, too, looked uncomfortable. The others seemed to look either like a mix of them both, completely clueless or uninterested. Charles nodded, but but stayed silent.
Instead, he drank another glass of wine and started to chat with Owen Barfield.

"What was that?", whispered Edmund, hoping the girls knew more than him.
"I have no idea.", said Rose. She took a sip from her milk and continued to watch the men she was a stranger to. In her dimension, she knew all of these men. Very few of them knew who she truly was, but all of them have met her, as Hugo Dyson's orphan niece who lived with him when she was not in her boarding school in Reading. Now, they all looked at her like she had just escaped from a freak show. Rose usually didn't care what people thought about her, but this time, it was uncomfortable.

"You know," she said to her friends. "I wish it wasn't like that." Laura Glue looked up at her. "Like what?", she asked. Rose made a simple gesture she thought would say everything she couldn't express with words. "And I am happy that Fred is not here right now.", she added.
"I think he's not too happy," said Edmund. "I'm sure he would love to see Charles instead of hiding in the bushes. Then again," he added, "he might be heartbroken to see him like that."

It was true, Charles physical appearance almost painful to look at - he seemed to unhealthy and unhappy, and so did the others. "Summer Country air", explained Laura Glue with a much saying glare. "The Lost Boys told the worst stories about them. That's why people grow older in the Archipelago. Except they get killed more often, of course.", she added.
"Yeah," said Edmund and swallowed the rest of his ale. "Of course."


Fred was bored, frightened and sad. Additionally to all problems he already had, he was now alone in the Summer Country, in World War II, in a dimension where there was now Archipelago and where people would either kill a talking badger, or make horrid experiments on him.

Hiding in a bush was by no means natural for him, and he had no interest in taking up customs of his silent cousins. Archimedes above him was fast asleep and he had no interest in doing the same - he was neither nocturnal, nor mechanical, after all.
I wonder if Charles is there., he thought. I'd luv t' see him.
He took the Little Whatsit out of his pocket and started to browse through it.

Muffin recipe, Akkadian letter from a king to his daughter, instruction on how to make a pocketknife out of a broken frying pan and a toothbrush, a map of Egypt from 1916, a map of Paralon, his home. He took a breath and continued to browse. Th' moust Ancient and Noble History of th' Making of Leprechaun Crackers in Ireland, on Avalon and the whole Archipelago of Dreams, according to the European Badgers, native to the British Isles, who followed th' devel'pment since 430 BC. His grandfather was especially proud of this archievements of their species and he included it, although many would have deemed it unnecessary. After all, it was part of the Great Whatsit in Paralon, also known as the (not so) Lost Library of Alexandria. Good grandpa, thought Fred, but he did his best to turn his thoughts away from him as he browsed on. Windmills and Donkeys and Knights, oh, do they follow me?,
the badger thought and used his paw to sweep away a tear.

Trumps! Something about trumps. They were used in Mesopotamia. They were used where? When? In Bronze Age? Did Charles know? Oh, how could I ask him. He sighed. Did he truly discover new knowledge about space or even time travel? How could it be done at that time, much before the Odissey? Until now, Fred was sure trumps dated back to the Old Greeks and only in the earliest stadium of their existence, until they were perfectioned in the Middle Ages.

Apparently, his grandfather just copied them, without thinking too much into it and he just never looked well enough. But who wrote the original text? And who translated it? He had to ask Charles. Or did he? He looked again and found something he'd have never expected.

Chapter 8: Eureka! part I

The men left, one after another, some shook hands, other clapped backs, some nodded, after said "see you", all went out, except for one. Charles Williams stayed where he was, in his preferred corner of the Eagle and Child, or the Bird and Baby, as his friends and aquintances called the place. He looked at the two girls and the boy who sat on a bank by a tearby table. One girl, who looked younger than the other two, wore normal clothes, consisting of simple pants, a blouse and a cardigan. However, she had pink, bobbed hair, something he had never seen, and he would have not expected on a girl so young. More like a flapper, he thought. The other two were older, almost young adults, and they were the same height. The girl was tall and had uncombed light brown hair, which was covered by a pair of goggles. She also wore wings, as if she truly intended to fly. She was dressed most inapportiately for the public, in a tight leotard with high cut legs, boots that covered her knees and a kind of pantyhose below, and a wide shirt on top, kept together with a corset. The boy was dressed like he just stepped out of a painting from the 1700s, and his hair looked just like girl's - light brown, unmade and long. Cautiously they came over to him, just like they had said. He wondered what they wanted and how they knew him.

"Good evening, Mr Williams.", said the pink-haired girl. Her eyes looked older than her face, he noted. And her body seemed, while still young, somehow exhausted, and used, as if she had it much longer than she presumely did. Her eyes were of a strinking bottle-green colour, in perfect contrast to her hair. Her eyebrows were of a dark auburn, apparently her natural hair colour. When he thought about it, he found that of all three the boy looked the youngest, although he seemingly was much farther progressed in terms of physical development. Even the winged girl seemed older than she was, and younger at the same time. They're all odd., he thought.

"Good evening, Miss", he replied. "Dyson.", said the girl. "My name is Rose Dyson. Hugo is my Uncle.", she explained. Charles scowled at them. "Your Uncle? Then why did he say 'Look at those strange children? Did they go mad, becaus of the war', if he's your Uncle? A bad joke?"
The winged girl talked now. "He doesn't know yet.", she explained. "And you will tell him? Is your father his brother?", he asked, but the girls shook their heads, while the boy said nothing.

"We are not really related.", said the girl called Rose Dyson. "He is more of an adopted Uncle."
"He adopted you and doesn't know?", asked Charles. They were stranger than he thought.
"He probably will never know, at least not here.", said Rose and suddenly looked sad.
"But we have to talk to you, anyways." To me?    

"My name, Sir, is Edmund McGee.", said the boy and offered Charles his hand, which he accepted. "And I'm Laura Glue.", said the other girl. "Good evening, Laura.", said Charles, only to be corrected. "It's Laura Glue. Just calling me 'Laura' is just as bad as calling me 'Glue.'", she explained and Charles flatered. He felt like he had a kind of déjà vu, but he felt unable to connect it to a clear memory. "Of course, Laura Glue.", he said, scowling at her. It was Edmund who began to talk again.

"Have you heard of Captain Hank Morgan?", he asked. "You mean Captain Henry Morgan?"
"Yes, him. Elija McGee made his maps.", he explained further. "He was my grandfather."
Charles looked at him. "That seems... unlikely.", he finally said, after a while.
"Not really actually, when you consider it's true.", said Rose. Charles chuckled.
"Do you have any unlikely relation, Laura Glue?", he asked. The girl chuckled, too.
"Actually, yes, if you consider Peter Pan unusual enough - he's my grandfather, you know?
But actually, that's not too impressive if you know Rose's family tree. Her father was...", but Rose shushed her. "Well, not related to Hugo Dyson", the winged girl who said she was Peter Pan's granddaughter finished her sentence, laughing.
"And your grandfather? Let me guess... Odysseus? Why are you laughing? What?"

"Mr Williams," said Edmund McGee, whose grandfather made maps for Henry Morgan, with a surprising authority and the girls went silent and looked at him.
"Mr Williams," he said more gentle and Charles nodded as a signal for him to continue.
"Have you ever wondered if... everything was and is true?" Charles scowled again.
"What do you mean?", she asked.
"Well...", began the girl who insisted she was adopted by Hugo Dyson, "everything."
Charles scowled all the more. "You mean the things you are telling me?"
"No," laughed Laura Glue. "Everything. Every myth and legend and story. Everything."


Translating Cuneiform without having anything to write the progress down is awfully difficult, found Fred. He considered to call Archimedes, but he was afraid to be heard, and the owl probably wouldn't have been much of a help, anyways.
What he tried to translate was a photography of an ancient bronze carving, printed on a particularly uninteresting looking page of the Little Whatsit. He never cared to make anything of it at all, neither did any of the Scowlers. He thought it may be another presumabely lost part of Gilgamesh or anything else that would be fascinating to a normal person, but rather boring to a Caretaker of the Imaginarium Geographica, especially one born in the Archipelago, who practically grew up in the Great Whatsit. While many humans deemed badgers, like other animals, to be unecudated, because of their way of talking, they held an incredible knowledge, when it came to ancient languages and classic literature. Just because they couldn't pronounce something, it didn't mean they knew any less about it than a human.

His own father, Uncas, who was actually called Charles Montgolfier Hargreaves-Heald, and who was usually considered to be one of the less educated or intelligent mammals, could recite several pages long passages of the Iliad, given a quarter of hour to prepare his mind and throat.
Fred sighed again. He missed his father, especially now. Uncas had been working in the publishing business all his life, until he became squire to Don Quixote. Fred sometimes worried about him. They saw each other very infrequently now, especially after having lived together for a long while and they had some arguments in recent times.

It was of no use. Whenever Fred thought of home, he felt sad, so instead continued his work.
The little he could read, said something like "pictures from the heart" or "places of dreams" or "destinations of desire", and there was something like a story that seemed to be about a child, a girl, that stepped through a picture she drew into the sand. The photography was of a very bad quality and Fred had to admit tp himself that his knowledge in Cuneiform was, indeed, limited. Also, he could hardly concentrate. His friends have entered the Eagle and Child (Fred was not in a mood for cute nicknames, especially when he connected them to a much happier place and time) three hours ago, and most of the Inklings had left it at least two ago, including a very sad Scowler John and a chubby Scowler Jack. He wished he could meet Charles, who was, apparently, inside with his friends. But he knew, this Charles could have never made anything from what he discovered.


The children were inside the inn and Fred was lost in his small book and Archimedes was awfully bored in his tree. He couldn't sleep at such a moment and he felt incredibly useless. He was to take care of Rose and to be the intellectual guide of the group, but, with the exception of the gearwheel he found, he contributed nothing by any means useful to the adventure at all and now he was captured in a horrible dimension, where everything was bleak. He was, of course, native to the Summer Country, but he was born (or rather: made) in a time, when it was still in well connection with the Archipelago of Dreams. According to Fred, this dimension was only seperated from the Archipelago in 1917, which meant that, if he travelled in the past, he would be in the Summer Country he knew. Not that he desired to travel there, by any means. The thought of being nearly home comforted him. He was one of the greatest minds of this world and even the people in this bleak place learned and knew about him.

He heard a shouted "Eureka!" from below him and chuckled, then decided to leave his friend.
If the badger was foolish enough to talk any much more in this place, he couldn't help him, so it would be no use for him or anyone to stay in this boring and useless tree. Hew stretched his wings and flew away, as silent as he could. An owl at daytime was unusual, but not impossible and he would most likely be safe. When the time was right, he shot down, to take a sheet of paper and a pencil. One never knew when one would need to write, after all.

Most people in Oxford were students and professors and all of them seemed unhappy, and bland. Of course, seeing others as bland would be unfair coming from someone as Archimedes, and he knew that. The diet of none of these poeple consisted of clockwork mice and that certainly had its effects on them. He saw the Scowlers, as the badgers used to call them. At least, some of them. Charles Williams was not with them, as they walked to their homes. They looked like shadows of the versions he knew of them. Not being Caretakers did not do them well. Not knowing him didn't help either.

He flew down on a neat lawn and put the sheet of paper on the street beside it. Then, he began to write what just came into his mind. He praised himself for taking the paper.


"So," began the man that was and was not Charles Williams. "You mean, there are other dimensions?" The children nodded. "And I exist in multiple times?"
"Not exactly," said Rose. "More people that could have been you if things went differently exist in other places. And then other people that are or were very similar to you. It seems that of all people, you are especially inclined to the whole business of dimensions, and such.", she continued.
"Apparently, the Charles we know once connected with you somehow.", added Laura Glue.
The man nodded. "Yes, I presume that is true. I just didn't know what to make of it, till now.
It was certainly wise of you to talk to me first.", he added. Jack and Ronald would not have been as open, if you understand what I mean." and they surely did understand.

"So, why have you searched for me? How am I to help?"
"Well, actually...", said Edmund. "We have to find Father Christmas. John, I mean Ronald does know him, but he doesn't know, you know? Like with Mr Dyson and Rose.", he exclaimed.
"Father Christmas?", asked Charles. "Why do you have to find Father Christmas?"
"Well...", said Laura Glue. "He was kidnapped, so the War would never end - at least not the way it should." Now, Charles looked all the more curious. "Will Father Christmas stop the War?"
They shook their heads. "No, but everyone being all the more sad will just make everything worse.
Do you see? There are much little things..." Rose looked down on her hands, which she elegantly folded on the table. "The one who... not sent us exactly, but...the one who knew we had to do this has been you. And so we thought we would ask you."

"First," said the man who was more Charles than they thought until then. "I want to meet Fred."

Chapter 9: A Letter and a Visit for the Lewis Brothers

"Scowler Charles! Scowler... Charles?" Fred sniffed at the man's legs. He did smell like Charles. It's not like it was with the tulpa. He did look less like Charles than the tulpa did, actually. A bit more... worn, actually. But Fred knew it was supposed to be like that. It was difficult for him to hold his tears back, so instead he hid face in the man's touser legs. Awkwardly he kneeled down and carefully stroked Fred's head, with shaking hands. Fred did not feel insulted, as he knew this Charles would not be used to a talking badger in a velvet suit with a lace collar that could read Cuneiform and that would cry in his pants. The shaking hands concerned him, as he was not emotionally nervous. His hands were that way. Another difference from Caretaker Charles, although he, too, had a tendency to an irritated nervous system. "You fine, Scowler Charles?",
he sniffed and looked at him, and the man nodded. Fred knew that he would die in a few years and become a tulpa. While Charles would be content and he himself made it through well, and while this version of Charles would not exist anymore very soon, he felt nontheless sad about it.

"Tolkien is at at the Kilns with Jack and his brother, I think.", said Charles as they were on the way to them. "Fred, could you pretend to be a dog? I don't think anyone would be surprised if I dressed a dog up.", he added. To his and Edmund's surprise, Fred, Laura Glue and Rose began to laugh very loud and hard. "What is it?", he asked. "It's just...", Rose pressed through her laughter. "We had already done that.", explained Fred and the girls laughed all the more. "To hide from witches on flying bicycles." Charles raised an eyebrow. "I am sure they exist in Oxford, too."


Jack sat on a bench in his garden at the Kilns, with his brother Warnie and his friend Tollers, and read a letter he found in his mailbox aloud:

"Jack, Jacksie, Jack-Jack the Giantkiller, Caretaker, the Second, not John's student, nobody's apprentice, chosen by Bert, the Frenchman, and Stellan. Clive Staples Lewis. You, my friend.

In 1917 you have met many people and you have become who you are, and who you are.
You have not become who you are not, which is good, but the people you happen to be can make it complicated. You have written beautiful things and you will write beautiful things and you have done very good, and very bad things, but the way you are here you don't know why.

When your friend died in war, and when your friend died in war, you couldn't have done anything the second time and it should not have happened differently the first time, as he knew.
You don't know the first time, not the you, you are here, but the first time made the second time happen, so you would feel and understand. So you would become you, both times.

When you had that walk with John and Hugo, and Hugo stepped through that door and did not step through that door and when he did, you met Rose and me, and Uncas and Fred and some others, you did not live through the same things either time, but they had the same result.
The path you took was right for you. Personally, I could not understand your (or the other Scowlers (am I becoming a badger?) Scholars and Caretakers) interest in these modern religions, as they seemed by no means more exciting than those I was used to know. But I unserstand your comfort - and the truth in it has opened itself to me, in some ways, especially through my dear girl I am to take care of. I am her tutor, but I understand much through her, that has never been in my field of intelligence if you understand, which you don't.

You grew through your fears and the shadows that haunted your past, metaphorically
- and literally. I have never been a sentimental or emotional person, so it is unusual for me to say such a thing: do listen to your heart, Jack. And tell John to do so, too.

People you know in your heart are people you have met in a different life and when time is right, you will become one with yourself, in just a few years or hours, as it might seem.

Do listen to Charles, and tell John to do so, too.

And ask John, how he met Father Christmas in thought. The truth might surprise you both.

P.S.: Don't tell Twain about this letter - or anyone at all. I'll pick out what's left of your hair, if you dare to!"

The three stared at each other. "Perhaps one of Charles's... friends?", suggested Warnie.
"But how could either child know about... and... why would Charles tell?", asked Jack, while John preferred to scowl. Archimedes, sat in a nearby tree and chuckled. Charles's friends, indeed!, he thought to himself.
"Maybe, he wants to make fun of us? He has an odd sense of humour, after all.", said John but Jack and Warnie shook their heads. "Not that way," said Warnie. "Not like that."

They looked up, when Charles and the strange children came, taking a very strange animal with them. John stiffened, Warnie goggled, Jack beamed. "A badger dressed like a Victorian child!"
"Charles?", he laughed. "Have you written this ridiculous letter?" The handwriting was truly similar, but Archimedes felt insulted.
"'Mpossible, he'd had no time!"
Now everybody stared at Fred. "Your badger talks?", asked Jack and Charles laughed. "You thought I'd take a wild badger and dress him up? If anything, I'll do that with my wife."
Another scowl from John and a full-hearted laughter from Warnie accompanied Jack, who sat down to greet Fred. "I have had dreams of you.", he told the small animal. "I have a badger in my books, he's called Trufflehunter.", he added and Fred smiled. "My father, Uncas, was the inspiration, if I am correct. But you first knew my grandfather - Mr Tummeler. John! You got the name for your little Hobbit novel from him: There and Back again - a Badger's Tale!" and he laughed and Jack laughed all the more, soon to be joined by Laura Glue and even Edmund and Warnie. John stepped closer and looked at the badger. "I know you.", he said. "Well, sure you do, we've met years ago!" and he hugged his leg, while Warnie shook hands with the girls, and then Edmund.

"We don't have too much time," said Rose. "We have to find Father Christmas! Any chance you have seen him?", she asked and looked at John who seemed as clueless as before.
"I have just made him up for my children!", he cried out. "It's me who wrote that letters!"
Rose sighed. It was of no use, he would not remember as fast as she'd hoped. Jack was far more open-minded it seemed, and so was Charles. John, however, seemed just as frightened as he did back in Tamerlane House. Just what worries you so much, John?, she asked him silently, hoping for an answer she knew she wouldn't get that way.


It was Archimedes who sensed the danger first, but he did not warn them. It would have been too early. Many men in Oxford wore grey suits and most of them looked bleak, in those bleak days of war. These men, however, looked differently. They did not look like lecturers and they were certainly not students. They did not live in Oxford, as they had to look on a map, but they were by no means tourists. The way they moved reminded him of clockwork men or similarly dead, or rather: not-living people. And the only people who would be in charge of beings like these were not their friends. They surely were not.

Then, they went.

Chapter 10: The Dreadful Thomas Weston

Jack, John, Laura Glue and Edmund sat at one side of the garden table, while Charles, Rose, Warnie and Fred sat at the other and they drank tea, ate sandwiches and were generally very happy, although they were still a bit confused.

"And that Atlas," said John. "I am the Principal Caretaker? I have to do..."
"The most.", finished Laura Glue. "So to speak. But you generally do it very well, and you have lost the book very few times. Once you forgot it in your car when we were at Jamie's, but that was in the 20s, when everyone was crazy anways and I flew all the way from London to the Archipelago, when I was eight, neh?", she told him, not being particularly modest.
"Who's Jamie?", asked John, hoping to find a more normal answer. "James M. Barrie.", said Laura Glue and stuffed another tea sandwich in her mouth. "Theve arw gweat!", she added and Edmund laughed. "Barrie... why don't I like him too much?"
"That is, Jack," said Fred and Edmund laughed even more, "he was Aven's first great love. And you never had chance. Din't bother you with Captain Nemo or Artus, but maybe in this life? After all, you like Jamie a great deal when we knew you." Jack blushed and took a sip from his tea. "Rum, anyone?", he asked. Now, Fred and Rose laughed the most, and John instinctively joined them, although he was not sure, why. "What is it?", he asked.
"Why do we laugh?" Rose, who could hardly help from laughing, explained: "When Uncle Hugo stepped through that door... and you've found me and did some other... things. Well, Fred can you tell him? You've been there, after all." Fred sighed, but chuckled at the same time. "I said I wished, I'd brought some pie and then my father, Uncas, said he wished he'd brought more crackers, and then Jack sad he wished he'd brought the rum. In badger speech!",
he added. "Yes, that's how you told it! 'I'm thinking I wish I'd brought the rum!'", said Edmund and all started to laugh.

"Uncle John, try to remember, please." Rose could not feel as light-hearted as the others. She knew the people she was with would not exist in that way for long anymore and they had much more important things to do. "How did you first think about Father Christmas? How did you get the idea for it?" And she looked at him and he looked back at her. "I don't know anymore... I think it might have been in a dream... I think it was a dream, but I don't think I was asleep. I saw such a beautiful, snowy place and a man with a white beard and tanned skin, black eyebrows and brown eyes... and the Polar Bear, of course. But also penguins, which don't live at the North Pole. I think there were little elves, too. More like hobbits than my elves.", he added. to make sure everyone understood what he meant. "I thought it would be perfect for my children.", he then said, rather sheepishly and Rose nodded. "Any chance you've seen a similar looking man in Oxford?", but John just shook his head.
"I think... I think I've seen a Turk yesterday. Coul be wrong, of course.", said Warnie and Fred looked up. "He's not Saint Nicholas, you know.", he began. "But he may look like him!
At least Polar Bear suggested something like that. I don't really know..." Warnie nodded.
"That was what I meant. He did have a beard, but it was not impressively long."
"How old was he?", asked Edmund, but Warnie simply shrugged. "He seemed ageless, to be honest. His beard made him look old, but his face seemed middle aged, his body seemed very healthy and strong and he had eyes like a child. He immediately caught my eyes, he was such an unusual figure. And his coat was amazing, so elaborate and colourful. Mostly red.", he added.

"Was he alone?", asked Archimedes who just left his hideout. John and Warnie both gasped, but Jack and Charles seemed rather content with a talking, mechanical owl. When Warnie found his speech again, he said "no." and took a sip of water. "He had...", he made a pause and looked in the bird's eyes in which gearwheels shimmered behind the light golden glass.
"He had two men with him. Grey suits, black glasses. They looked like bodyguards.", he added as an explanation. "Nice bodyguards, who'd kill him if he was a mortal!", said Fred with a bitter expression and Archimedes puffed out his bronze feathers. "Did they move strangely?", he asked and Warnie nodded. "Where did they go?"
"I... don't know.", the man said and sighed. "I'm sorry, I simply don't know."
Archimedes straightened his feathers again and cleared his throat. "If I might suggest, we'll better go and search for him. In smaller groups, of course."
Rose frowned. "Who do you think should go with whom?", she asked her friend.
"You, me and Warren are one group. Charles, Fred and John another. Jack, Laura Glue and Edmund form the third. That's about as perfect as we could make it. At least Hugo Dyson is not with us." The last remark earned him a scowl from Rose and a slight chuckle from Fred, but nobody disagreed with his idea and they immediately went, John, Jack and Warnie still being confused.


The sun was slowly setting and Oxford was tinted in various shades of orange and purple, a nice change from the bitter grey. Jack walked in front of Laura Glue and Edmund, who shyly held hands. "Why are you watching my shadow, Laura?", asked Jack, after he had turned around his head a few times, for the girl's stares made him feel uncomfortable.
"It's Laura Glue, Jacksie and I am watching your shadow, because I am glad it is in its place."
Jack accepted the answer, as he knew not how to respond to it. However, he thought of a way to distract them, as the slightest hint of romance could always make him uncomfortable.
Laura Glue, who sensed this, chuckled and leaned a little closer to Edmund, who, while not understanding why she did so, gladly laid his arm around her shoulder. Jack swallowed.
"It's pretty, isn't it?", he asked with a vague gesture at the rose coloured horizon.
"Yes, pretty indeed," said Edmund. "Just right to make a picture of it. Or a Trump." The last bit was hardly more than a whisper, but Jack heard him, while Laura Glue just shook her head.
"What is a trump? You children have mentioned it rather often, but I still don't understand. A kind of map? I think Charles connects it with tarot.", he askend, and then mused.
Edmund, to Jack's relief, let go of Laura Glue and went to his right side, while Laura Glue joined him on his left, and hook in his arm. "A Trump is how we got here.", said Edmund.
"It's a picture of a place, but it alters with it. It can, at the same time, lead to different times and dimensions. When you concentrate on it, it enlargens and you can step through it. They can be useful, and dangerous."
Jack looked at him in surprise. "And you make them?", he asked and the boy nodded.
"What a skill... at your age." The boy nodded again, but smiled this time.
"Did you invent them?"
"No."
"Who did?"


"Ancient Sumerians! I am certain.", said Fred and his companions stared at him with wide eyes.
"You are? That's fascinating. I've been playing with Trumps and dimensions for so long... it's incredible to learn if has been true all time!", said Charles.
"I can't wait to tell... you know... you.", stammered Fred and Charles leaned his head down.
"I understand.", he said. And he did, as he was not afraid for this dimension to end.

John felt less certain than his friends, as he was sceptical of the influence Charles had on Jack.
Who knew what his plans were and wether he would pull them all in something dangerous or, worse, wrong? But at the same time, how could he have made a badger talk, built a mechanical owl or given wings to a girl? What he saw was true, but he knew that seeing meant not believing.
Believing is Seeing, thought John and abruptly stood. Yes, Believing is Seeing. But do I Believe?
No matter if he knew at that time or not, he did Believe.
"Fred, how did your grandfather inspire my book's name?", asked John, who decided he should learn more about this strange sitation. "Oh... I think he simply suggested it. As his autobiography was not to be published in the Summer Country, he thought you could finely use it, you know?"
John nodded and beside the other two. "Is your grandfather a good friend of that... other me?"
Fred frowned and looked down. "Yes, certainly. You two are almost as good friends as he is with Scowler Charles.", he told him, with a very unhappy tone to his voice. He then straightened his back, but was immediately pressed down on the ground by Charles, who then eagerly stroke his neck.

"Hallo, Thomas!", said John. "How are you?"
"Oh, I am having a fine day, sir. Hope you are, too?", asked the young man called Thomas and John nodded. "What a nice dog, Mr Williams.", the boysaid with an arrogant undertone.
"Priscilla dressed him.", explained John and Thomas nodded, albeit with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes," said Charles, "she's very fond of him. We just want to see her, right, Ronald?" asked Charles and John swallowed.
"Yes, that's just right. She's quite excited, ever since Charles got that... dog." ("woof")
Thomas's arrogant face immediately lit up. "To your house, Mr Tolkien? Now that fits just right, as I wanted to visit you and your dear wife. She's always so nice to me.", he said with a wide grin.

"Well, then... now that's fine. Let's go.", said John and Thomas continued to grin.
"The other direction, Sir."
"Oh, of course."

"What a dreadful boy.", muttered Charles and picked up Fred, who found it difficult to walk on all fours.

Chapter 11: Eureka! part II

"Good ev'ning, ma'am. I won't bother you too long, but have you seen an old Turk in a lovely long coat?", asked Laura Glue and the woman shook her head before fastly closing the door.

"That's a nice evening, isn't it? No, I don't want to sell anything, Miss. I'd just like to ask... have you seen an eccentrically dressed gentleman?" The young woman stared at Edmund form his long hair, over his wide and blouse-like shirt, to his strange boots. "Yes," she said, "but I don't think he is a gentleman.", and closed the door.

"O, Jack, nice to see you. A man that looks like Father Christmas?" The man in the door laughed.
"No, have you been to long at the Bird? You'll better go to bed, Jack."

"Searching like that is useless," said Laura Glue. "But I know what to do!"
She looked around her and saw no person in the streets. It was already quite dark and so she stretched her arms and wings, jumped up from the ground and flew over Oxford.
"It's incredible," muttered Jack. "She's actually flying!" Edmund chuckled. "Of course, she is!"
But not for long, as she came back soon. "Who taught you this?", asked Jack.
"Scowler Jacksie, my dear. I told you a long time ago, when I was still a child-"
"You were a child a long time ago?", interrupted Jack. "That I was taught to fly by Daedalus."
"But if that's true... how are you successful?" and he laughed.

Laura Glue loosely hugged Edmund, but then frowned. "Can't ya make a map? Like the pirates your grandfather worked for did... just imagine the place where you'd find Father Christmas."
But her friend shook his head. "It would take too long, and it's too vague. I don't think I could."
Laura Glue pouted and kicked a stone. "It's too stupid!", she said and crossed her arms.
"There has to be..."


"...a way.", said Rose and Warnie nodded.
"Certainly." It was among the few things he had said that evening. He also asked Archimedes several times if he truly was Archimedes and he asked Rose the same question whenever the bird answered, but they all got tired of that repetitive trialogue very soon.
"Where do you think could a person be hidden in Oxford?", asked Rose and Warnie frowned.
"In any given house, as long as whoever lived there wouldn't tell.", he said.

As Rose and Archimedes followed Warnie, they suddenly stumbled over Jack, Edmund and Laura Glue. "So I assume you are equally helpless?", asked Jack and Warnie shrugged. "Actually yes. Have you seen anything of interest?", he asked his brother.
"We've just ran into Tollers and Charles. They're heading towards Northmore Road, with Thomas Weston." He said the young man's name while clenching his teeth.
"That dreadful new student of Tolkien's?", asked Warnie. "Why him?"
"Well, apparently he likes Edith alot."
"Likes Edith? What does that mean?", asked Rose.
"It means that he's a crawler. And he always wears sunglasses.", said Laura Glue and stuck out her tongue. "I told you he is sensitive to sunlight!", exclaimed Jack.
"Yes, of course. At eight o'clock in the evening!"

Warnie straightened his back and looked at Archimedes, who nodded.
"We should go over to Tolkien's."

The walk over to Northmore Road was not long anymore, but Laura Glue was beginning to feel nervous. "I think I should fly ahead!", she said, but Jack shook his head. "No, you shouldn't. You might be a valkyrie in the Archipelago, but now we're in Oxford."
Laura Glue turned around. "Who told you this?", she asked him and he frowned at her.
"You, of course. Or was it Edmund? Rose?" But both shook their heads, while Edmund scowled and Rose simply smiled.
"You are becoming yourself more and more, Uncle Jack. That's wonderful", she said cheerfully and began to walk a little faster. "I am sure Uncle John and Uncle Charles do the same. I wonder if they have already found Father Christmas..."
"I hope so!", said Edmund.


When John knocked at his own house's door, his wife immediately opened the door. She greeted all of them enthusiastically, in particular Thomas. "Oh what a lovely dog!", she said.
"He looks a bit like a badger, doesn't he?", she added with a wide smile.
Why do her eyes look so fearful?, thought John. Why does she behave so unnaturally?
"Are you fine, darling?", he asked and she nodded, with a bright smile, but harried eyes.

"Come in," she said, "come in. Here, I have just prepared tea. I thought you'd come, John, Thomas and... oh, Mr Williams? How unusual. But, it's nice to see you."
Unusual? Why?, wondered Fred. "I don't know... how do you like your tea, Mr Williams?", she asked him. "Oh, just plain, like it is.", he said.
"Anything to eat?", she asked but and John and Charles said "No, thank you.", at the same time, while Thomas asked for biscuits.
"Is there a chance you have fairy cakes? My dog loves them.", asked Charles.
Edith looked at him with wide eyes. "I am afraid, no. But he might like some biscuits, too?"
"Woof!", said Fred, which was taken as a "yes", just as he intended.

"What was that?", asked John. "The doorbell," said Thomas sleekily and went to open it, but was overhauled by Charles. "Oh, thank God, it's you!", he said and let everyone in.
"Look, Ronald!", said Edith. "We have even more guests now! And an owl. Wonderful."
Rose frowned at her. "Auntie Edith, are you fine?", she asked her and the woman looked at her. "Oh, dear girl. I am not your Auntie. But I am fine.", she said, and touched her cheek.
"I don't think she is," whispered Jack to Warnie, who nodded.
Edmund politely greeted everybody and Laura Glue straightforwardly opened the first door and entered the room behind it (which turned out to be the living room) and did the same with every single room in the house. Edith stood perplexed, but still with a cheerful smile, while Thomas got seemingly angry. "What are you doing, girl?", he asked her and followed her through the house. "My name is Laura Glue, and not 'girl'," she said, "and I don't have to tell you anything, Thomas Weston."

She stretched his back to his full height and looked down on her. "And what do you have to tell me, Lauren gluten?"
For that, she slapped him, and then let out a scream, as his glasses fell down. Instead of eyes, he had two dark balls in his face, which coldly stared at her.
"He's not real! I told he was wrong! I told you!", she screamed as Jack and Edmund ran towards her. "Any tea?", asked Edith with her eyes beginning to tear up and her husband and Warnie began to shake her. "Edith? Edith are you... under a spell?", asked John and her eyeballs went up and down, as if she tried to nod with them. Then, she sighed and fell into his arms, while Rose grabbed Charles' hand and they went down to the house's cellar, followed by Fred.

Down there, they found a man, tied to a stool. "Father Christmas!", exclaimed Fred.
"Eureka," said Archimedes, who appeared behind them. "So he's been real all along."

Chapter 12: They rescued Him and He rescued Them

Rose attempted to run down the stairs, but Charles held her back. "Look, there's someone down there with him," he told her, "and he looks familiar.

Daniel, I know you like to kidnap people, but isn't that a little... ridiculous?"
Rose tried to walk down to him, but Charles held her arms even tighter. "How did you get out of your portrait?", she asked him and the man grinned at her. "It's not Defoe, Rose, look at his face. His eyes are hidden beneath his silly wig. Another unfinished tulpa, that is all."

Rose scowled at the man who stood behind the Christmas Saint's chair, but then turned around and stared at Charles. Fred, in the meantime, tried to smell Charles legs. But it was impossible. "It's gown," he said, "you're smell is gown! You are becoming a tulpa, Scowler Charles!", said Fred. "Oh, that means this dimension is fading..." He turned around to Rose.
"Come," he whispered, "we'll have to attack him! Help me!", he said and the both stormed towards the tulpa that was not exactly Defoe, followed by Archimedes.


"So, that must be enough," said Laura Glue and wiped her hands on each other.
Thomas Weston was all tied up and neatly parked underneath the kitchen table, and Laura Glue, Edmund and the Lewis brothers congratulated each other on their good work, pulling him down. "I had no idea how strong tulpas are!", said Warnie and Laura Glue frowned. "But you had an idea what they are, huh?", she asked and Warnie raised his eyebrow. "Well, I am not sure... apparently, I do.", he said and frowned. "Yes, I think."

John was still holding Edith in his arms and she was still trying to say the things she truly wanted to, but all that came out were mutterings like "such a nice young man" or "I have used or best tea for this precious day" and her eyes still looked highly distraught.

"What was that?", asked Edmund and turned around, as there were horrible noises down in the cellar. "Where are the other actually? Wait... Mrs Tolkien, is there a man hidden in your cellar?" Edith stared at him. "No, what man should be there?", was what she said, but her eyes went up and down again, the only way for her to say "yes". And so, all but the Tolkiens stormed down to the cellar, where a man without eyes but with a large wig was held by Charles, kicked by Rose and bitten by Fred. Archimedes tried to cut through every single rope that was wrapped around -

"Father Christmas!", explained Laura Glue and embraced the man, who was still tied to a chair. "Laura Glue, there's no time for hugs right now!", said Jack and the valkyrie crossed her arms. "There is always time for hugs, okay?", she said and Father Christmas nodded and so did Rose, who was clinging to Defoe's leg, trying to make him fall to the floor.
"Yes, we should all be nice to each other!", insisted Fred who then bit again in Defoe's leg. "It's of no use! You can't really hurt a tulpa!", he said angrily. "Oh, those tulpas make me...", but then, he stopped and looked at Charles, who opened his mouth to say something, but in that moment a brilliant light filled the whole room and everyone had to hide their face, until it was over. After their eyes had adjusted to the dark again, they noticed that Defore had disappeared and that Father Christmas stood beside his chair, as he had just been freed by Archimedes and Laura Glue.
 
"That is a magic I use when talking puppets do not work as they should.", he explained.
"If he was a tulpa, then one without a true aiua, as the magic eliminates all things that do not truly live."
Fred stared at Charles again, took his hand in his and smelled on it again. It still smelled like nothing. Not like human, not even turpentine. But Scowler Charles has eyes, he thought. He has a soul. But why is he dead? It's much too early for this dimension to fade...
"Seems very dramatic.", said Jack and Father Christmas shrugged.
"The penguins certainly like it."


The door to the kitchen opened and Priscilla stepped through it, staring at her parents.
"Is Mama allright?", she asked with wide eyes and John frowned.
"Almost, my darling. She just needs some rest. That's why I'm holding her.", he explained.
Priscilla looked around and noticed the noises coming from the cellar. "What's that?", she asked
and her father continued to frown. "That's... Father Christmas. Hiding presents for you! But, hush, you're not allowed to see him now!"

Now, it was Priscilla's turn. She frowned so much, that her eyebrows touched and her eyes looked as tiny as they could get, causing Edith to laugh. John noticed that the laugh was more natural than it was for the rest of the evening. "Shouldn't you be in bed, Cilla?", he asked as he ran out of idea to keep his daughter out of any superfluous danger.
"You were all screaming so loudly," she said, "I thought I could maybe help, if something's wrong."
Such a good girl in the worst circumstances!, thought John, as his daughter gasped.
"Is that Thomas under our kitchen table?", she asked, just when the cellar door opened.

"Yes, that is Mr Thomas Weston, who helped kidnapping me.", said Father Christmas, who was followed by the others.
Priscilla let out a joyful scream and ran over to meet Father Christmas. "It's you! It's really you! It's truly you!", she said, jumping up and down.
"And who are you?", she asked the others, and so, they introduced themselves.
"Such a cute dog!"
"Badger," corrected Fred and allowed her to hug him, a very rare gesture, as he was not a toy.

The Christmas Saint went, to help Edith and, while Rose and Laura Glue began to entertain Priscilla, Fred began to talk to Charles and Edmund. "This dimension is fading sooner than it was supposed to, which means we have to leave as soon as possible."
"Why is it?", asked Edmund and Charles frowned. "I assume because through you all, the connection to the Archipelago was re-established - we were not supposed to have any connection to you, after all." Edmund stared at him. "But, the war can't be over now, can it?", and Charles and Fred shook their heads. "No," said Fred, "but it won't be prolonged as Defoe had planned. Charles is dead now, because he is becoming one with his future self - he is still alive in our dimension's equivalent time. But you are all becoming yourselfs now - it's the Faith.
Believing is Being."

Edmund looked at Jack and Warnie who were eagerly thanking Father Christmas, who freed Edith from her spell, and at John, who hugged his wife and daughter. "Will they remember?", he asked and Fred shrugged (as much as a badger could shrug, that is) and looked up at him. "Possibly, but not in a fully direct way. They might remember it the way these versions of them remembered the Archipelago, and possibly realize it, if someone tells them. But I do think, that-"
"I will know.", said Charles and Fred nodded. "Yes, you will, Scowler Charles." He sighed.
"I have to tell you so much! The Little Whatsit - I...", but Charles signaled him to stop.
"Do tell me later, somewhere else.", he said, and then added: "Though I can hardly wait to hear.
And tell your family."


Edmund sat at the kitchen table and drew as fast as he could. "I thank the Mercy for your photographic memory, my boy", said Charles, as he looked over his shoulder.
"It looked just like that, when Jack and I accompanied John to the Christmas Saint's Island."
Then, he lifted Priscilla, to look at the Trump. "You all have been there?", she asked. "Amazing!"
"And Awesome, neh?", added Laura Glue. "I am sure your father will take you there one day.", she said and John nodded. "Certainly. But not now.", he added as he knew Priscilla would suggest following through the Trump. "We can't do that. We have to do, in our timeline."

"I am done, I think. Mr... Father... Christmas Saint... would you take a look?", he asked and the tall man looked at him and then came over. "Certainly. Yes, it looks like home. Very nice."

Edmund smiled, stood up, and looked at the card, which soon enlarged to the size of the kitchen wall. "Now," he said, "it is time to say goodbye. That is, for a very short time. But goodbye, nontheless. Who will go through first?"

Rose hugged Edith, then John, then Jack, then Warnie, then Charles and stepped through.
Laura Glue shook hands with everyone in played formality, then hugged everyone.
Archimedes might have muttered something that sounded friendly and flew away.
Fred said everyone "Goodbye", hugged Charles' leg, and went through.
Father Christmas nodded to everyone, bowed to John in particular, winked at Priscilla and went.
Edmund waved and jumped through, before the Trump closed.


"Goodbye," said Charles and Priscilla waved one last time.

Chapter 13: When there would be Christmas this Year

The first fresh snow fell on The Christmas Saint's Island fell just a few minutes after his arrival.
The first to greet the group was Polar Bear, who could hardly talk through his tears of Joy.
The first to apologize, was the Penguin, the second the Elf. The children beamed with delight.
The first cup of mulled wine was drunken by Father Christmas, and soon he was joined.


"Edmund, where's the green wrapping paper with the candy canes on it?", cried Rose over the whole large wrapping room and got an equally loud answer. "Laura Glue's got it, but I don't think she's wrapping presents!"

In fact, she was wrapping a penguin, who made jokes about her wings. Birds who could not fly could be jealous of humans who could.

Rose rolled her eyes and continued to help put teddy bears, teddy badgers, toy locomotives and automobiles, toy principles, dolls that looked like elegant ladies, dolls that looked like valkyries (a new design for little girls in the Archipelago, who aspired to be like Laura Glue), toy goats in battle armour, crayons and coloured pencils, many different books and plenty of sweets (candy canes, vanilla biscuits, flamed marzipan, milk chocolates, peppermint fondant, hard candy, cinnamon fudge) in nice, simple boxes, which she then wrapped in beautiful, colourful paper.


Fred, in the meantime, was helping outsides and decorated trees with animal shaped baubles and tinsel. Father Christmas decided much earlier, that he could not trust him when it came to edible ornaments - many candy canes, ginger snaps and marzipan hearts had mysteriously disappeared when Fred was to decorate a large pine with them.

"Polar Bear? Do you have some more golden tinsel?", he asked and the giant white animal immediately handed him some. "Here, Scowler Fred.", he said cheerfully.
Scowler Fred? Really? He looked at the large animal in surprise, who smiled at him.
"Thank you... Master Bear.", he said and the Polar Bear beamed. He is Master Bear, indeed.

He frowned, as he continued to decorate the lower branches. What makes person special is not that they have a title or position. Everyone has one, and they are equal. What makes a person special is their unique position in this world and any other. The position that makes them, and they who make the position. He sighed. Don't take pride in feeling better than others, Fred., he said to himself. Take pride in being the best of yourself.


"Are you at peace with that peculiar bird again?", asked Edmund as he sat beside his friend on the ground, and Laura Glue nodded. "Certainly. He's actually quite funny."
Edmund smiled at her. "Yes, penguins are funny. I always thought they were cute.", he said as he wrapped his arm around her. Laura Glue looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Cute?"
He laughed and then shrugged. "Sure. But I even think you are cute. And I think Archimedes is sometimes cute, but do not dare tell him.", he added and continued to laugh. "Yes, because Archimedes and I are such cute winged things, like that penguin. Do you like everything that has wings, huh? What about the other valkyries? And the Dragons? Is Samaranth cute?"
Edmund stared at her, with a confused look. "I tell you what something we all have in common - we're dangerous. Really, really dangerous! Oh, stop it! Stop laughing, will you?"
She got up and started to throw paper boxes at him, then hit him with a roll of wrapping paper, until it was too much for Rose, who stared at them from behind.

"Oh, stop it," she said as she took the wrapping paper from Laura Glue. "You're wasting material!", she contunied, put everything back where it belongs and then took each friend of her by their back hair and pulled their heads together as best as she could, completely ignoring that she was physically inferior to either of them, having them ending up in an awkward kiss. "You need help being happy, don't you? Why does everyone need help?", she said and then went away to let Laura Glue and Edmund be alone for a while. "Wait!", said Laura Glue and took the paper roll again, to hit Rose. "No go on, and don't disturb us!", as she kissed Edmund again, who still looked slightly fuddled.



"They say 'Believing is Seeing', but I need to see first. I believe in many seemingly impossible things, but only because I have seen them. I live in the Archipelago for years now, I myself am a creature of a kind few people believe in. But I still could not believe in you."

Father Christmas sat in his personal office, browsing through the list of children.
It was not a list of naughty or nice children, as many people believed, but a list of children, whose parents could afford presents, and of those whose parents could not. The second list got longer with every year, the first got shorter. It was a lot of work for the Saint and his helpers and they did not complain - at least not for themselves.

"You know, Archimedes. I don not think the problem is with your ability to Believe, but with your way to label the things that you think or feel within you. Being mechanical and very ancient, you work much different from a human, an animal or even a magical creature. What you now call 'Believing' is what others would usually call 'knowing'. You do Believe, but is it not possible that you call it 'doubting'?

Until you have seen me, you could not know that I am both True, and Real. But you might have still considered it. You might have even hoped it, despite yours taking pride in maturity.
You have helped your friends searching for me, you have written a letter to Jack - oh yes, I do know a lot more than you might think, Archimedes. Even more than you do, and I am much older than you.

But as it is, I am certain for you Believing is Seeing, and Seeing is Knowing."

Archimedes nodded and then looked at him. "How old are you, Father Christmas?"
The man chuckled. "I am as old as Compassion, but I hold this occupation for almost two milennia. I have chosen this appearance about three centuries later, out of respect for a human Saint that I admire very much. I am very old."

"I have lived before you became Father Christmas. What have you been untill then?", asked Archimedes and Father Christmas looked at him.

"I have always been who I am. And that means, I have always been doing Good."


When the day of work was over, Polar Bear led them all to another subterranean room, but a much larger one. "It's huge!", said Laura Glue.
"At least twice as huge as the dining room at Tamerlane House!", added Rose.

The room was decorated with several Christmas trees and garlands, floating candles and a beautiful Nativity Scene.It had several long tables, at which the elves, penguins and polar bears sat, standing on many colourful, warm rugs. On one side of the room, was another table, where Father Christmas sat, with some of his higher ranked helpers. Rose noted that there were six empty places by now. Opposite to it, was a large window, lined with hay-, oat- and fruit-filled mangers, from which the horses and the reindeer ate.

Polar Bear led the group to the Christmas Saint's large table and everyone took a seat (there was a beautiful, large bird perch for Archimedes), Polar Bear and Fred to each side of Father Christmas. Then, Father Christmas stood up.

"Before we are to have supper, I want to thank you all. You took the best care of our Island that could have ever been possible. I am as happy to know, that I can always rely on you, as always. But now, I want to thank some other people, without whom I could have never come home to you. Without Miss Rose Dyson's leadership qualities, Miss Laura Glue's incredible vigour, Mr Edmund McGee's excellent cartographic and chronographic abilities, but also, at least as much, Scowler Fred's and Scowler Archimedes' Wisdom and Faith, and most of all, Master Polar Bear's eternal Loyalty, I would not be here tonight."


"I will awfully miss you all!", said Laura Glue, as she hugged Polar Bear and Father Christmas. "We will come back soon.", said Rose, who stroked the Penguin, who then went over to Laura Glue, to exchange a quick wingshake. Fred waved at Father Christmas, and bowed his head at Polar Bear, then joined Edmund, who already sat in their boat, soon followed by the girls. Archimedes looked in the Saint's eyes, then followed the others.


"Thank you, not for having saved me. Thank you for saving the Joy of Christmas.",
said the Saint, but they could not hear him anymore, as they were already too far away.

The journey back to the Nameless Isles felt much longer than it was.

Chapter 14: Something Awesome

When Charles went upstairs to take a look at what was happening in the Nursery that night, he felt a great lot of... sleep.


He first went over to the sofa, were Rose lay, halfway hanging on the floor, so he picked her up, to lie in a better posture. She was too deep asleep to notice. He placed a blanket on her and looked at Archimedes, who sat not on his perch, but on the armrest, his right wing laying on Rose's head. She was still wearing what she wore the last time he saw her, except that it was no stained with grass and dirt, and got wet at least once.

Laura Glue and Edmund looked like they simply fell on the bed, from opposite directions and moved not at all since they fell asleep. They did, however, hold hands. Charles chuckled and placed another blanket on them.

Fred fell asleep on the writing desk, his head lying on a letter. Charles took him, and put him between Laura Glue and Edmund, solving the problem of finding a bed for him and seperating the two, at once.

A badger is more comfortable than a sword, after all., he thought and went over to the desk again, to take a look at the letter, which said:


Dear Pop, and Dear Grandpa Tummeler. No, it should be:
Dear Squire Uncas, and Dear Master Tummeler.

I am sorry, because I think I have become arrogant and because I am certain that I neglected you both. I am a Caretaker now, and in some ways a Scowler, but that is my identity, not my quality, as I thought for a while.

Or I think I have thought so - I just don't know anymore.

Recently, I have been sad, very often. And I didn't know why.
But now, I do: I was sad, because I missed you, but was afraid to meet you. I was afraid, you would reject me, now that I became so different.

I started to spend less time with you, when I became Scowler Charles' apprentice, but then I didn't notice, because I had much to do and to learn - and because I had him. Not that he could replace you, but I didn't realize how much I missed you until I was truly lonely.
And that was, when Scowler Charles died. And when he came back as a Tulpa, it became not better, but worse. I began not only to feel guilty for spending too little time with you, but for feeling so distant from his new self.

So, I began to study more, to become a better Caretaker - and to become a Scowler, as I have always wanted. But then, whenever I met one of you, I felt that you both, and in particular you, Pop, thought I would become stranger and perhaps even vain.

And I can't remember if you were actually right about it. I simply can't remember.
But I remember something else - how brilliant you both are.

How adventures and brave you are, Pop! I wish we could have had you with us on our last adventure - I have to tell you everything, the next time you visit us! It was incredible and would have been just your kind of fun - we have to visit Father Christmas together!
I have visited him just yesterday and brought many baked goods for you, and a wonderful cookbook with Father Christmas' own recipes for Grandpa Tummeler!

And how visionary you are, Grandpa. You are, who made me a Scowler and who taught me at least as much as Scowler Charles did. And if you had not printed the Little Whatsit I would not have made such a wonderful discovery, that makes me a Scowler - but most of all helps Scowler Charles and Master Edmund! It is about Trumps and it is the photography of the text in Cuneiform you have added to the Little Whatsit - just how did you get that idea, Grandpa?

I now have better adjusted to Scowler Charles being a Tulpa. I have learned about his soul, and I don't really care about his smell anymore, although it is still difficult. I hope you will adjust aswell. Or do you even have to?

I often thought I was a bit closer to a human than you. And that was most foolish in three ways - thinking that adjusting to things as this was easier for humans, thinking that being like a human would be better, thinking that I was closer to a human than you both.

But you both have human friends you are at least as close with as I and Charles - Charles himself is closer to you Grandpa, than to me, I think. At least in understanding. And you and Don Quixote work like one person, huh, Pop? You both enjoy seemingly human activities - especially Pop - and you both have a lot of human knowledge - especially Grandpa -, but you are still proud badgers, and you are content with your identities.

You are a fabulous Badger Squire and Rescuer, Pop, and you are a fabulous Badger Publisher and Writer, Grandpa.
I aspire to be as fabulous as you two are, as a Badger Caretaker and as a Badger Scowler.

I cannot wait to meet you two! And I am sure Charles would be happy to see you, too!

With Love,
Fred


Charles smiled and put the letter back to where it belonged, then considered to turn off the reading lamp, but didn't. Instead he took a sheet of paper out of his pocket, which he got through a Trump. It said, in clusmy, large letters:
"Thank you, Scowler Charles. We have Father now!"

He smiled, put it back in his pocket and then, he went down.


"John, Jack!", he said. "I have to tell you something Awesome."
"About what?", asked John.
"About Father Christmas, World War II, Fred's Happiness, and Mesopotamian Trumps!"
"That's truly Awesome!", said Jack.

Chapter 15: Author's Notes

I do not know if the Tolkien house at Northmoor Road had a cellar or which room led to which. I've tried to find more information about it, but then handed it over to artistic freedom.

I have tried to pick up typical elements from the actual series, but could not do this as elegant as I wished to. At the same time, I have tried to make everything as logical as possible.
This story is set between "The Dragon's Apprentice" and "The Dragon's of Winter", so I preferred not to use Mr Kirke and Mr Bangs as failed tulpas - although I first considered it.
Another Defore and a Mr Weston were just right in my eyes, although "Out of the Silent Planet" was first published in 1938. But time flows in all directions, doesn't it?

This leads me to the inconstistencies - I have touched some themes and then neglected them, as I have written the whole fanfiction very spontanously and without much planning. Still, I have tried to finish everything as well as I could.

I have been very insecure about the style - it's much dialogue, and some action, with little description. That is unusual for me and not what I generally prefer, but when I think of it - the books are full of dialogue, certainly better than mine, but dialogue nontheless. That's how the characters and the setting are - everyone talks a lot, many things happen and you don't get too see much. So, I am content with it now. It fits well.

I hope I have written the characters as well as I wanted to, and I hope my portrayal of Laura Glue's and Edmund's relationship does not appear too silly.

I drifted away from what I actually wanted to write - a nice story about helping Father Christmas. I truly thought that would be what I would write - mainly focusing on the kids and animals (as requested and as I personally like it a lot) and neat and funny and not too long.

But now I have written this, drifting off and off again, through dimensions, time and other crazy things. That's how it is once you step a foot in the Archipelago - you get drawn into an insane adventure before you even know what happens to you. Apparently, this does not only appear to characters - but also to writers.

I hope it was rather entertaining to read, despite all its faults.

I had some fun writing it!