Ward Father Christmas Letters 2001

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The Ward Family Father Christmas Letters. From the frozen banks of the Eon River to the looming peaks of the Wreath Mountains, Father Christmas invites you into a north far older and stranger. than the one we think we know. These letters written across 20 years revealed the hidden lore of the Arctic Elves, the fierce honor of the Winter Dwarves, ancient battles with polar giants,

the secrets of the Great Northern Library, and the many perils faced to keep the spirit of Christmas alive. Rich with myth, humor, and adventure, this collection opens a doorway into a world where hope is a weapon. Friendship is a fortress, and even the smallest lights hold back the longest night. Enter, and let the North remember you.

Christmas 2001. My dears, what joy it is to have brothers. I'm sure the two of you are beginning a long journey in learning how much you share with your parents, and yet how different you both are. It is now my second year with our Christmas train of sleds, elves, reindeers, and wolves trekking along the tundra in search of a new home where we might build a Christmas castle to defend against our foes.

Were it not for the visitations of my own kin, Black Peter and the Green Brother, our joyous mood, even in this blessed season, might have been dashed. You remember that the snow goblins who destroyed our former home had been following us hoping to spoil our plans. And now with the mad mage awakened, we fear too many visitors instead of too few.

Beren, my head elf, is such a clever girl. She's been making all manner of schematics and designs, and recently used some of the same lightweight wood we employ for our sleigh runners to fashion a most remarkable invention. an aerodynamic snowboard. After several attempts at improving its tack, Boreen hitched herself to Geigelfear, and that playful wolf... bounded across the powder with her cutting and carving behind as though she were water skiing upon a frozen lake.

I suppose the similarity did not escape our mischievous wolf, for he slyly towed Berenes straight across a patch of slush that had formed over a sulfur bed. I had never seen her so alarmed. In an instant she went from gliding gracefully through the drifts to sliding wildly across snow the consistency of applesauce. The poor elf let out a cry as she tumbled headlong, getting a mouthful of icy slop and a neckful down her tunic. You can imagine how cross she was with Geigelfure. As you know...

Elves dislike the cold more than anything, and it took three mugs of hot chocolate and a full hour by the fire before Boreen's teeth stopped chattering. After that, she added two extra skegues to the board for stability. She realized most snowboards don't use such a design, but she vowed never to be the butt of another of Geiglefear's jokes. Thankfully, the two have since made up.

And Geigelfir has taken his role as an advanced scout more seriously. On one of their patrols, Boreen reported back that they had discovered a most unusual circle of pine trees, not far from our encampment. Trees so far north are rare, my dears, and as fortune would have it, my green brother was visiting at the time. He is deeply connected to the flora of the world and recognized these as ancient pines, the monastic trees of their order.

The pines had grown themselves into a perfect circle, for they pine away, as he put it, in meditation to understand the meaning of existence. With Geigelfir and Boreen leading, I lashed up Blitzen and Comet. my fastest steeds, to a smaller sled. My green brother prepared an alchemical offering which he called Fumagent Regis to protect the venerable trunks from insects and decay. When we arrived,

We bowed deeply before these wise sages of the northern snows. The Green Brother translated their whistled speech as the wind whispered through their needles and creaked their ancient boughs. They were grateful for our gift. and listened with quiet patience to our tale. Near the end of our visit, one of the eldest jackpines, called Glaminendias, offered a single dormant branch for a sacred purpose.

Boreen listened intently to the Green Brothers' translation, while I continued misting the chiron of trees with the fumigant. When we returned to camp, she set immediately to work, and by morning, she showed me her creation. She had fashioned the old branch into a finely carved whistle. According to Glamenidius, its tone was designed to be unbearable to snow goblins.

Boreen took the whistle, fashioned her new board, and set out again with Geigelfear. Through my binoculars, I watched them skim across the tundra towards a band of those filthy fiends following our trail.

The goblins hurled their spears, trying to strike Boreen or Geigelfyr, but they were far too swift. At the right moment, Boreen drew the whistle and blew with all her might. Though I heard nothing, the results were immediate. utter chaos. The snow goblins shrieked and clutched their great floppy ears howling in pain. They dropped their weapons and scattered into the wastes, utterly routed.

Beren and Geigelfeer chased them for leagues until the last of the beasts vanished into the horizon. And so, my dears, we finally shook those nasty pursuers. So remember... Even the meekest of instruments or the mildest of ideas may prove the key to victory down the snowy roads of life. There are times, my dears, when the greatest strength lies not in muscle.

but in mind and heart together. My fingers grow stiff again, and the ink is stubborn by the fire. Have a glorious and happy Christmas, my dears, and treat your parents well. It may be a joyful season, but it brings its own share of noise and stress. Yours ever and annually, Father Christmas. Thank you for listening to these selections from Ward Family Father Christmas Letters, compiled by me, Jay Ward, and illustrated by Madeline Knight. Now available on Amazon for your reading pleasure.

I'm Jack Ward. Have a happy holiday season and a very Merry Christmas. Thank you for listening to Sunday Showcase on the Mutual Audio Network. We invite you to continue the amazing audio tomorrow on Mutual with the Monday Matinee. Our weekly series of dramatic...

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