Hello, my name is Moshe bar Jacob but you probably know me better as Father Christmas. Already I can hear you saying, “Santa Claus, or Saint Nicholas, The Three Wise Men, Three Kings, or the Magi deliver my Christmas presents”. Patience, in chapter one you will learn that there are three Gift Bearers who deliver on three different dates.

Now, where was I? I was born in 48 B.C. in the village of Bethlehem, not far from Jerusalem. From the age of seven I was a shepherd, and for twelve years I was chief shepherd of the temple flock. To pass the long winter nights I carved animal figures from pieces of discarded wood. Then, one cold, clear winter’s night, an angel sent me to see a child born in a stable and lying in a manger. I had just finished carving a lamb out of a piece of old vine and I gave that to the child as his first present.

I have been giving presents to children ever since, only now I need some help. For today, I deliver one billion presents, weighing one million tons, to 500 million children in 300 million dwellings, in one night. So to help me I have the world’s greatest cargo delivery crew. This is composed of three teams each with a different strength. It takes the genius of the elves to build the sledge and plan the route. It takes the strength of the gnome cargo team to handle those one billion presents and deliver them to me on deck, in the right order, at the right time. It takes the athletic endurance of thirteen reindeer to haul the sledge round the world for 31 hours. What’s that you say? “Night doesn’t last for 31 hours!” Oh, yes it does and Jed will explain it to you.

How did I meet Jed? In 1969 he called in at the port of Christmas, Alaska, on a Liverpool cargo ship to deliver 8000 tons of toys. He was 21 years old then, the youngest officer on the ship. He was so young the crew called him by his boyhood nickname of Jet. Right there he began pestering me to let him tell the story of what we do in our little town. I refused. Every year since then he has repeated his request. After 42 years I’ve finally agreed. He’s retired now, lives by the sea and grows 33 varieties of apple. More importantly, he has grandchildren, so he finally appreciates the true beauty of Christmas.

You’ll have to ask Jed why, out of all the years he could choose, he has chosen to tell the story of the only year (so far) when I didn’t deliver the presents.

God bless you and your families, have a joyous Christmas and I hope you get the present you wish for.

Moshe

Typical, he doesn’t even mention me. So from Mother Christmas, love and a big hug to all the children of the world. I hope to see you one Christmas soon.

Martha

Chapter 1 – The Three Gift Bearers

January 6

353 Days to Christmas

Around the world, 400 million children slept and wished the night away. For in the morning they hoped to find waiting for them –whether under the tree or by the fire - a sack full of Christmas presents.

Meanwhile in Christmas, Alaska, Father Christmas also slept. ‘Chimneys’ he muttered to himself. ‘Stockings hanging by the fire.’

Outside the cabin, a snowstorm battered its log walls and shuttered windows. But inside, all remained dark and warm as the cast-iron stove glowed. A half-burnt log collapsed in a shower of sparks and startled mice dashed for the safety of the walls. Duke, Mother Christmas’s ginger cat, half opened one eye to look at the mice and then closed it again. He had eaten enough tonight.

Christmas muttered. ‘Three Kings.’ He rolled over and mumbled again, ‘Magicians.’ He twitched, ‘Flying robots. Unwise.’

He sat up in bed and shouted, ‘No!’

Next to him, Mother Christmas grumbled, ‘Moshe, if you’re going to snore, go and sleep on the couch.’

He slid out of bed, pulled on a robe and his feet searched for slippers. Shuffling through to the kitchen, he tossed more wood on the fire and put the coffee pot on the stove.

‘Moshe, his wife called sleepily from the bedroom.

‘Yes dear?’

‘You’re not drinking coffee are you?’

‘No dear.’

He took the coffee pot off the stove. It was no good standing here worrying; he might as well go over to the schoolhouse. Maybe the elves had news.

He pulled on waterproof trousers, boots, a thick coat and a hat, and crept out of the cabin. Groaning, he realized it was too early for the gnomes to have cleared the paths. He would have to break a path through two foot of fresh snow. Still this new powder snow was soft and dry. Not for the first time he wished he had set up base somewhere warm, like Hawaii. But hot and sunny Hawaii didn’t suit reindeer, they liked it cold.

As he stamped out a path, dawn began to slide down the eastern mountains and reveal the shapes of the small town of Christmas, Alaska. Over at the coast, the heads of giant cranes loomed out of the dark. Next to them was the world’s second biggest warehouse. The only one bigger was at NASA. Looking inland, he saw the squat block of reinforced concrete that guarded the sledge.

Father Christmas crossed Moot Green, crunching his way towards the cabins of the elves and gnomes. At the far edge of the cabins, just before you reached the vegetable gardens, stood a single storey wooden schoolhouse.

As he opened the schoolhouse door, he saw the backs of three elves huddled around a shortwave radio.

‘Any news?’ he asked as he stamped the snow off his boots.

Columba, the senior elf and Timekeeper of The Way, answered.

‘She’s trying to make contact with them now.’

At the radio Professor Pascal, the world’s leading expert on the Parcel Delivery Problem, twiddled dials and listened intently to the crackling in her headphones. In this isolated valley, without roads or phone lines, shortwave radio was still the quickest way to contact the outside world.

‘Christmas calling Epiphany’ Pascal spoke slowly and clearly into the microphone. ‘Christmas calling Epiphany. Can you hear me? Over.’

‘Perhaps they’re late’ said Christmas, chewing on his beard, ‘delayed by bad weather.’

‘I doubt it’ said Columba, ‘they’ve only been late once in 2000 years.’

‘Sshh!’ the third elf, Peregrine, hissed at them. Professor Peregrine was the genius who had hunted down a universe hiding in a cave, captured it and caged it in a larch wood sledge. He was far happier dealing with troublesome universes than with people.

Pascal gestured them all to be quiet. ‘I can hear you now Epiphany, over.’

Looking over Pascal’s shoulder they all watched as she scribbled figures on a pad.

‘Any casualties?’ She tapped a pencil on the pad. ‘Good.’ She glanced at Christmas and nodded. ‘Father Christmas will speak to you later, for now enjoy your sleep. Well done. Over and out.’

She flicked a switch on the radio and pulled off her headphones.

‘Well?’ Christmas asked.

‘The Three Kings finished their deliveries one hour ahead of schedule’ Pascal answered. ‘They delivered to 20 million households an hour, a new record.’

‘Another successful year, praise be to God’ said Christmas.

Pascal pressed the point. ‘Twenty million, that’s four million an hour more than we have ever done.’

Christmas waved a hand, ‘All those machines, it’s so impersonal. I prefer to deliver each child’s present myself. Besides, the reindeer have enough weight to haul as it is without adding thousands of tons of machinery.’

‘But the Three Kings don’t use a sledge’ said Columba, ‘or reindeer.’

‘Or gnomes’ Peregrine added.

Christmas said cheerily, ‘We’re still faster than poor old Santa Claus. He won’t give up his chimneys or stocking hanging by the fire.’

‘So’ Columba continued, ‘all three Gift Bearers have completed their deliveries and the Christmas season is finished for another year. Will we be having our usual post-Christmas review?’

‘Yes, my cabin today for afternoon tea; Mother’s been baking for days. Milt and Bosun will be joining us.’ He stretched. ‘Well, now I can go and enjoy my breakfast. I’ll see you all later.’

As soon as they heard the outer door slam shut Peregrine challenged Columba. ‘I thought you were going to tell him to get rid of the reindeer?’

‘No Peregrine, I won’t be telling him to do anything. He is Father Christmas after all. This afternoon, over tea and Mother’s delicious cake, I will suggest to him that perhaps the time has come to consider replacing our reindeer with a powered delivery vehicle. You two will back me up by pointing out the problems, the many problems, the reindeer give us.’

‘What’ said Peregrine, ‘like their noisy quarrels, their ritual fights, their endless arguments about ancestry? Let’s not even mention the fact that they seem unable to run a mile without tripping over and breaking a leg.’

‘We already push them to the limits of their physical endurance’ said Pascal. ‘They haul that sledge for 31 hours; I think another hour would kill them. We would be doing them a kindness by retiring them.’

‘A good point professor, make sure you mention it’ said Columba.

‘And how are we going to mention replacing the gnomes when Bosun is sitting with us?’

‘Please Peregrine, one thing at a time’ said Columba. ‘Let’s not forget Christmas is 2000 years old, change needs to be introduced slowly. Perhaps next year we can suggest bringing in some machinery to help move the cargo around the sledge.’

‘But we’ll still need some gnomes to look after the machines’ said Pascal.

‘I know’ said Columba. ‘We need to improve the gnomes schooling; introduce physics and mechanics.’

‘They won’t all be able to handle that’ said Peregrine.

‘Those that can’t can always grow vegetables or chop wood’ said Columba. ‘Now if that’s all then I’ll see you this afternoon at Mother’s for tea and cakes. And remember not a word of this to anyone.’

Chapter 2 – Freehoofers and Runners

Beneath the black pine, Trey stirred, shook off his blanket of snow and opened his eyes. Grey trees were silhouetted against a grey sky; dawn was near. He rose and slid down the hill on his four hooves, like a four-legged sledge.

From the valley floor he walked towards the coast until he reached Lookout Point. The dark figure of a reindeer appeared from behind the Wall of the Immortals.

‘Hello young feller’ the old reindeer greeted him.

Trey groaned. He knew what was coming.

‘Come down here for inspiration have you’ said the old buck. ‘I don’t blame you. Why when I was your age I was always down here. I know the story of every one of these heroes.’

The old buck took a step towards the Wall of the Immortals and touched a nose against one of the carved names. ‘Now see here, this runner was my cousin Coho. He was one of the heroes of ’98 you know. That was the year The Way nearly came to an end. Why folks say if it hadn’t of been for uncle Coho they’d never of …’

‘Yo Trey!’

A small reindeer came out of the dark and touched noses with Trey. It was his best friend, Wolfbait. His real name was Pussytoes – after the flower – but he was so small that no one had expected him to survive his first year. Even his own mother had said on first seeing him, ‘Why that poor child’s just wolfbait’.

‘You two boys going out for a training run?’ asked the old buck. ‘Good day for it. Why I remember cousin Coho always said train hard and run easy.’

‘No’ said Trey, ‘we’re not doing any boring training run. We’re going out to stretch the envelope, bust our moves and do things that no reindeer has ever done before. We’re freehoofers and nobody, not even Father Christmas, puts a harness on us.’

The old buck looked bewildered. ‘Why every young reindeer wants to run The Way. Everyone.’

Trey snarled at him, ‘Well we don’t.’

‘Leave it Trey’ said Wolfbait as he nudged his friend away from the wall. ‘See you old timer, we’ve got a long way to go.’

‘See you boys’ said the old buck. ‘Don’t step into any gopher holes.’

‘Cousin Coho’ Trey muttered. ‘Great grandfather Jeremiah.’

‘Leave it Trey’ said Wolfbait. ‘It’s not his fault.’

‘They make me sick. They can recite every family member all the way back to their great-great-grandfathers and bore you with their heroic deeds.’

‘It’s not his fault.’

‘Everyone in this town has got family ….’

‘Except you. Let it go Trey. All you need to remember is that we’re freehoofers. We live on the edge, in the danger zone. We jump off mountains, shoot the pier, and run up frozen waterfalls. We push the envelope about as far as it will go. Remember how you got your name?’

Trey nodded. ‘The first time I jumped a 360 you gave me the name.’

‘I gave it you because you earned it bro. Let those poor deluded runners keep The Way, we’ve got each other.’

The two friends touched noses again and set out together for Half-Pipe valley. Trey took the lead, breaking a path through the fresh snow. Wolfbait was in for a surprise. For Trey had been practicing a new move. A move so difficult that after 100 practice jumps he still hadn’t got it right. In the air he was fine; landing on an icy mountaintop was the problem.

As they arrived at Half-Pipe valley Trey began to trot and then broke into a run. He wanted to be first into the air so that Wolfbait would see his new move.

Racing up the mountainside towards the lip Trey quivered with excitement. He raced to the lip of the mountain and jumped into space.

He rose above the mountaintop into that cold, clear air 5, 10, 15 foot. Then he threw his head back and swung his rear legs forwards. Flying upwards and forwards, he rotated backwards. As he began to rotate he flipped his weight sideways and went into a spin. It was a 360-degree reverse roll with full twist.

‘Yes!’ he shouted.

He carried on rotating until he was the right way up again. Now he had to land. Landing on a frozen mountaintop is tricky. Too hard an impact and you snap a leg. Skid on the ice and you tumble out of control down the mountain. He looked up to check his landing zone and froze.

Running flat out towards him, head down, was another reindeer. Trailing behind him in a long line were a further 11 reindeer. Runners!

Freehoofers and runners don’t mix, and he was about to land on top of one of them. There was going to be a fight. He roared out a warning to Wolfbait and the runners.

‘Way!’

As the sun rose the 12 runners set off from Christmas, Alaska. But this was no gentle jog for Deke had mapped out a brutal 50 mile rollercoaster ride across seven mountain valleys.

‘You don’t make The Way by running round a track’ he told his teammates. ‘You do it by being the toughest and the fastest. Last year we spent too much time on the tundra, this year we’re going to climb mountains.’

The guys didn’t say anything but they all knew that one month ago, in the trial to select the 12 runners for The Way, Deke had finished 13^th. He had missed The Way by two seconds. Now, if he felt tired, if he ever felt like giving up he just thought of that 13^th place and kept on going. Next Christmas he was aiming to run the 100 mile selection trial in two hours dead.

They began the day by climbing an icy 3000 foot slope strewn with loose rocks. The merest touch of a hoof would send rocks bounding down the slope like cannon balls. At the top, they had a few seconds level running before plunging down into a valley filled with deep, powder snow. Running in powder snow is like trying to run in water. But water doesn’t suddenly slip from beneath your hooves and bury you in an avalanche.

Down on the valley floor they pounded across a frozen river. Their hooves plunged through the ice into freezing water. Even a reindeer’s double coat of hollow hair couldn’t keep out that cold..

At the edge of the third valley, Rigel was running lead. Clouds of virgin snow billowed from beneath his hooves like one of those old steam engines pushing a snowplough. But no snowplough can pick a safe path down a near vertical gradient.

But after a minute at the front Rigel’s legs had turned to jelly and his lungs were on fire. His brain screamed, “Stop!” But behind, he could hear the unchanging rhythm of his teammates hooves on the snow. Mouths wide open, pink tongues lolling out to one side, the runners gulped down as much as they could of the cold, dry, Alaskan air. If Rigel slowed down the next reindeer in line would bump him so he kept on running.

Deke, number three in the line, called out, ‘This is supposed to be a fast 50 guys, let’s pick up the pace.’

Rigel could give no more and stepped aside. Grollier took over. He upped the pace and gaps began to appear in the line of twelve reindeer.

After two minutes running lead, Grollier too stepped aside. Deke stepped up. Looking back over his shoulder he saw the exhausted faces and turned up the heat. He shouted, ‘Old Silver and his pack are after you looking for fresh meat, run!’ Several of the team shot frightened looks over their tails, looking for wolves, but there were none. As Deke ran onto the frozen river his hooves rang on the ice before he leapt into the powder that marked the start of a steep, uphill climb.

As he powered on up the hill, the line behind him stretched to 200 yards. Deke knew he could afford this effort for the next valley was shallow, with smooth concave sides. It was like a giant half-pipe that had fallen onto the tundra and pressed itself into the frozen earth.

He reached the summit and saw before him the 200 yards of flat ground that separated the two valleys. It was easy running here. Deke tucked his head down to reduce wind resistance and raced towards the lip of the valley.

‘Way!’ a voice suddenly roared at him from above.

Quickly looking up he saw a reindeer fall out of the sky towards him. Deke threw himself onto the icy ground and skidded towards the edge. The unknown reindeer skimmed over Deke’s head and then tumbled over in the snow.

Deke slid across that raw mountaintop, bouncing from one boulder to another Ice-shattered rock sliced off chunks of his hide and tossed it into the air. As he was about to plunge over the edge he prayed that he didn’t break a leg.

Right on the lip Deke collided with a frozen tussock and came to a sudden stop. Cautiously he flexed his legs, dreading the sharp pain that would warn him one of them was broken. But all four legs responded. Then, furious, he jumped up and spun round.

‘What the …!’ Deke spat out through clenched lips as he advanced on Trey. Spinning round was a mistake for Wolfbait came whirling out of the half-pipe at speed but without enough height to avoid him. He crashed into Deke sending him sprawling face down again into the frozen ground.

Deke’s nose dripped blood and holes in his coat revealed patches of raw pink skin. Even angrier than before, he jumped up and bumped heads with Wolfbait.

‘Heh, pick on someone your own size’ said Trey.

Deke looked round. ‘Well that wouldn’t be you would it, because you’re not big enough.’

‘Oh yeh?’

‘Yeh!’

They crashed heads and began a push-of-war. Trey dug his hoofs into the icy ground but Deke pushed him back towards the edge. He was about to plummet down the mountain when Wolfbait picked himself up out of the snow, seized Deke’s tail and bit it.

‘Ow!’

The rest of Deke’s team started to arrive. It was looking bad for the freehoofers as the runners outnumbered them and outweighed them by at least 50 pounds a reindeer. But Grollier, placid, gentle Grollier arrived just in time, as reindeer say, to settle the snow.

‘Guys, guys, can we back off’ he said in that rolling French Canadian accent of his. ‘Let’s remember we’re all on the same side here.’

The runners formed a ring around the two freehoofers and stared at them. The freehoofers snorted and pawed the ground to show they weren’t scared, but they huddled together. They were an odd-looking twosome. They’d dipped their heads into icy water and frozen their hair into spikes and dreadlocks. They’d rubbed their heads and necks against bark and lichens and stained their hair a dozen shades of red, orange and green.

‘Well look at them’ Polaris said, ‘aren’t they just too cool for school.’

‘Freaks’ Rigel growled.

‘Now, now’ said Grollier. ‘What happened?’

Deke nodded towards Trey. ‘Rudolph here …’

The freehoofers bristled and snorted, Rudolph was an insult.

‘Trey, the dude’s name is Trey’ said Wolfbait, ‘it’s short for 360.’

‘Whereas you’re just short’ said Rigel.

‘Now please guys’ said Grollier, ‘we achieve nothing by calling each other names.’

‘Anyway’ Deke continued, ‘Trey here came falling out of the sky feet first and almost knocked my brains out ..’

‘If he had any’ Wolfbait whispered.

‘.. and shorty crept up behind me and knocked me down.’

‘I didn’t knock you down’ said Wolfbait, ‘it was a forward 360 that wiped out because you stole my air.’

‘We weren’t creeping’ said Trey. ‘We come here to practice our freehoofer moves: rolls, spins, 180’s, 360’s.’

‘360’s?’ said Polaris. ‘Isn’t that what those stupid gnome kids do on skateboards. I don’t see any boards.’

‘Can’t fool you can we’ said Wolfbait. ‘When you’ve got four legs you don’t need a board. Freehoofing is a radical fusion between snowboarding and free running. This valley is where we get air time, bust our moves, and stretch the boundaries of what’s reindeerly possible,’

‘Moves! What you four-year-olds are doing is playing games.’

‘Yeh, whatever’ said Trey. ‘You big five-year-olds run along now, maybe Mother Christmas has made you fairy cakes for tea.’

Polaris stepped forward. ‘Watch your mouth freak.’

‘Come my friends’ said Grollier, ‘we’re wasting time. Let’s move before our muscles get cold and tighten up.’

The twelve runners drew up into line again, Deke in the lead. He addressed his team. ‘Tonight, our brothers who ran The Way will be the guests of honor at a torchlit ceremony at Lookout Point. The Gift Bearer will unveil their names on the Wall of the Immortals. If we train hard enough then next year it could be our names on that monument. So guys, let’s finish this off as a fast 50.’

He looked back at the aviators. ‘Heh, freaks, look out for me next Christmas won’t you, I’ll be the one running The Way.’

The 12 runners set off at a slow warm up pace down the slope, picked up speed crossing the valley floor and charged up the opposite slope.

‘Oh Trey’ said Wolfbait as they watched, ‘your move before - reverse 360 with full twist - awesome dude, just awesome. Shame that freak spoilt your landing. You had it nailed.’

They touched noses, then looked up at the disappearing figures on the hill opposite.

‘Runners’ said Wolfbait, ‘don’t you just hate them.’

Trey agreed. ‘What’s the point of all that drudgery? What are they running for? Where are they running to? Freaks.’

Chapter 3 – Mother Bakes Cakes

The three elves Columba, Pascal and Peregrine, the chief gnome Bosun, and the human Milton strolled towards Father’s cabin for tea and cakes.

On the porch they all took off their boots and carefully stepped over the threshold into slippers which Mother had laid out ready. Mother was very fussy about her floor and polished it daily. As they entered the living room Mother came through from the kitchen bearing a china plate crammed with cakes.

‘Mother they look delicious’ said Bosun. ‘I hope we can have more than one.’

‘You can have as many as you like Bosun’ Mother replied. ‘I’ve got plenty more in the kitchen.’

They sat round the dining table while Mother brought through a large teapot. The china cups were already on the table next to matching plates all with a border of red roses. Mother poured the tea and fussed over everyone. ‘I’ll fetch some more cakes shall I’ and she returned to the kitchen.

Columba asked Professor Pascal to begin her review of the world’s three Christmas deliveries.

‘I am pleased to report’ said Pascal, ‘that this Christmas all three gift bearers completed their deliveries on time and with only minor injuries to personnel.

‘On December 6^th Santa Claus ran the smallest of the three routes and was 20 minutes over schedule.’

‘Only 50 million children to deliver to and he’s 20 minutes late!’ exclaimed Peregrine. ‘Huh!

‘Well’ said Father Christmas, ‘he won’t give up his chimneys or his stockings by the fireplace. It’s just as well he’s thin. There’s not many chimneys that I’d fit down’ and he laughed, a big, deep, belly laugh.

‘Odd, isn’t it’ said Mother as she entered with more cakes, ‘how people confuse the two of you. Saint Claus is so thin and you’re …’ She waved a hand towards Father’s stomach.

‘That works to our advantage’ said Columba. ‘People have combined Claus’s red bishop’s robe with Christmas’s body shape and think it’s one person. Claus has to deal with the fans and publicity. We are mercifully obscure.’

‘How come no one knows about the Three Kings?’ Bosun asked.

‘Oh they’re well known in their own territory’ said Pascal, ‘but not in the English speaking world. I have their figures here.’ She consulted a folder. ‘The Magi, or the Three Kings as they are commonly known, finished their deliveries this morning one hour ahead of schedule. Their route was almost as long as ours: Russia, eastern Europe, Spain, Mexico, sweets to the Philippines. They delivered to’ she paused for effect, ‘20 million households an hour. A new record.’

‘That’s four million an hour more than we have ever done’ Peregrine added.

Pascal continued. ‘Now we come to our own performance last Christmas.’ Peregrine pulled down a movie screen as Mother drew the curtains.

A picture of the earth appeared on the screen. The view was of the side of the earth away from the sun, the dark side. As North America entered the darkness an animated picture of a sledge took off from Alaska.

‘Take off was at one minute past midnight on Christmas Eve, as scheduled’ said Pascal.

Christmas nodded, smiling as he watched the animated sledge. ‘Those reindeer are very good’ he said. ‘They’re almost lifelike.’ The three elves looked at each other and frowned.

Christmas watched the sledge as it ran its route. North to south, south to north, up and down the dark side of the earth like a yo-yo.

As Christmas watched the little sledge Pascal droned on with facts and figures about presents delivered and time schedules. Only at the tip of South America did the sledge slow down.

‘This is where we ran head-on into 150 mph winds as we rounded Cape Horn’ Columba reminded him.

Christmas watched as the little sledge halted, then began to fall back towards the boundary between dark and light.

‘At this latitude said Columba, ‘we were only an hour from dawn.’

‘Yes but then Rock took the sledge high above the winds’ Christmas countered.

‘Dangerously high. Reindeer survival time at that altitude is 15 seconds.’

‘A good job he did it in 12 then’ said Christmas.

On the screen the sledge began to move forward again. Then it turned north, ran up and down South and North America and returned to Alaska.

‘Touchdown in Alaska was at 7 a.m. Total journey time was 30 hours and 59 minutes.’ Pascal closed her folder. ‘Another successful year.’

‘Yes’ said Christmas, ‘another successful year. But I can only deliver presents to the children of the world because of the hard work of you and your teams. Thank you.’

‘Christmas, we are all delighted to be part of The Way’ said Columba. He coughed as if to clear his throat. ‘But every year the task gets harder. True, there are less children now who believe in you, but the ones who do believe get more presents, bigger presents ..

‘Can’t we put a limit on the size of presents’ Bosun interrupted? ‘Some of them are so big they won’t fit on the super-glide conveyor.’

Columba refused to be distracted and continued. ‘Every year we run along a knife-edge between success and failure. Last Christmas Eve we were only three seconds from failure. What if Rock hadn’t been able to run above those winds in under 15 seconds?’

‘But he did’ said Christmas, ‘and we’re all here, safe at home.’

‘Father Christmas, on behalf of all elves I wish to express our concern. The Way is now too big to rely on reindeer. I know that they can pull the sledge for 31 hours but by the time we finish our route they are exhausted.’

‘I think a 32 hour run would kill them’ said Pascal. ‘You know if the SPCA knew what we were doing they’d close us down …’

‘They are also prone to injury’ Peregrine interrupted, ‘and let’s not even mention how quarrelsome they are or their endless arguments about ancestry. We need to modernize, if we don’t The Way will fail. Father Christmas, please allow us to visit the Magi and study their delivery vehicle.’

‘Whoa’ said Christmas, ‘let’s all just calm down. ‘Timekeeper, how many times have we failed to deliver our presents?’

‘Never’ said Columba, ‘but we almost failed in ’98.’

‘But ’98 was the worst year ever’ said Christmas, ‘and we still delivered our presents and came home. Columba, you know my views on machines. Machines can’t feel, they can’t sense danger the way a reindeer can. Remember the freezing winter of ’61 when that starving wolf pack tried to eat us. Now what’s a machine going to do if it’s attacked by wolves?’

‘Forgive me for pointing out the obvious Father Christmas but wolves do not attack machines.’

‘Well you know what I mean. Columba, machines can do simple things, but they can’t sense danger or react to complex problems. What if the route had to change?’

‘Christmas you know that a route that delivers presents to 500 million children in a single night is so complex that once set it cannot be changed.’

‘But what if we had to change the route Columba? What if an accident forced it on us?’

Columba made a resigned gesture. ‘Then The Way would fail. But …’

‘Ah ha! No quibbles Timekeeper. You admit it; machines could not cope with a change of route.’

‘But neither could reindeer.’

‘If I have to choose between machines and reindeer then I choose something that lives and breathes, with feelings and a brain. I choose reindeer.’

‘Father Christmas, next Christmas Eve we anticipate a record number of presents and the longest ever route. It is our opinion that the reindeer will struggle to complete the route in time. At least agree to this, that if next Christmas the reindeer don’t bring the sledge home by 7 a.m. then we will switch to a machine powered vehicle.’

‘Columba, you know I don’t like numbers. Let’s just say that if the reindeer fail to complete the route in good time then I’ll consider a change to machine power.’

‘Agreed’ Columba said quickly.

‘Huh’ Peregrine grumbled, ‘another delay. ‘

‘Why, who’s going to tell poor Rock?’ Mother asked, concerned.

‘Please, not a word of this to the reindeer’ said Columba. ‘It might upset them.’

‘Upset them!’ said Bosun. ‘They live for The Way, and now you’re going to fire them.’

‘Nobody’s going to get fired, yet’ said Christmas. ‘Can we all keep this to ourselves.’

Mother refilled the teacups and brought in more cakes. They all made polite conversation but everyone was thinking about the reindeer.

Gee, thought Bosun, that’s a tough break for the reindeer. Still you can’t stand in the way of progress, just look at the way the super-glide conveyor had speeded up parcel handling. But you still needed gnomes to organize the parcels on the racks and put them on the conveyor. He was glad he was a gnome; no machine could ever replace a gnome. He saw Peregrine looking at him with that intense stare of his, like a weasel stalking a rabbit. Gee, that guy could freak you out the way he looked at you. Bosun gave him a friendly smile.

Chapter 4 – The Announcement

March 19

281 days to Christmas

In the centre of Christmas, Alaska, on Moot Green, the town flag - blue and green with a flying reindeer - flew proudly. Next to it, the town sign announced:

Christmas, Alaska

Mayor: Milton Stone

Founded 1917

Elevation 48’

Population: Humans 3

Elves 547

Gnomes 968

Reindeer 2012

Wolfbait rubbed against the town sign and scratched himself as his thick winter hair started to fall out. Trey stood next to him looking bored. All around them, standing in snow that was already turning to slush, two hundred reindeer gathered.

A large group of excited gnomes swirled at the front of the crowd. They were in constant motion: talking, grasping hands and slapping backs. The twins, Thunder and Lightning, were in the front row, hopping from foot to foot with excitement.

Behind the gnomes, a gathering of elves stood politely chatting.

It was almost spring and everyone waited for Father Christmas. Today, he would start the team selection process for The Way. As the four figures of Father Christmas, Milt, Columba and Bosun emerged from the grove of tall balsam poplar and quaking aspen at the edge of the Green everyone fell silent.

A distinguished, silver backed, reindeer left the crowd and joined them.

‘Rock’ Father Christmas greeted the reindeer with great warmth and threw an arm over his shoulder.

‘How did the meeting at the cabin go?’ asked Rock.

He had to ask because reindeer could not get their hooves into slippers and so Mother Christmas barred them from the cabin.

‘The teams were chosen, just as we discussed’ said Christmas.

The elf allowed himself a small harrumph of annoyance. Everything they had discussed at this morning’s meeting had been agreed beforehand with a reindeer, a common beast of burden. In spite of his training Columba couldn’t help but be annoyed. Once again Christmas had shown his favoritism for reindeer. Then he scolded himself, these feelings could disrupt the harmony of The Way.

The five companions walked across the Green and took up position on a slight mound as gnomes, elves and reindeer crowded around. Christmas looked kindly over the eager faces and could sense their anticipation.

‘My friends’ he addressed them, ‘my dear colleagues in The Way, while we sit around the fire and spin tales of last year’s Way spring has surprised us. Once more we must begin our long preparation for Christmas. As you have come to expect on this, the feast day of our patron, I will announce the team leaders for this year’s Way.

‘The rigger for this year’s Way will be trained and selected by Milt.’ Milton nodded an acknowledgement to the applause. The twins cheered, clapped and roared ‘Good old Milt!’ for they both wanted to be the rigger. But only one rigger would run The Way to maintain the tow and tug lines that connected the reindeer to the sledge. Back on his parents’ farm in North Dakota, Milt had harnessed and ploughed with a four-horse team. Then, after his goldrush days in Dawson, he had run a dog team along the Yukon. No one in Christmas knew more about rigging. Besides, he would only train the rigger; he was too old to run The Way himself.

‘The cargo team …’ the gnomes crowded round pushing and shoving and many began to shout with excitement. The cargo team was exclusively gnome and they were the largest group to run The Way. Sixty of them would board the sledge on Christmas Eve. Christmas raised a finger to his lips, ‘Sshhh’. He continued. ‘The cargo team on last year’s Way set records for the number of parcels handled and the prompt delivery of them to the Gift Bearer.’ Gnomes cheered, hollered and slapped each other on the back. ‘That team was led, and inspired, by a great leader and I hope he will repeat that success this year. The Bosun of this year’s cargo team will be Basil.’

As Basil stepped forward the gnomes chanted, ‘Bosun! Bosun!’

Basil raised his clenched hands and yelled ‘Team!’

Every gnome on Moot Green threw their arms over the gnomes on either side of them, hugged, and roared back ‘Team!’ The grove of quaking aspen quaked and dropped great clods of snow to the ground with a noise like muffled cannon fire. Christmas let them celebrate for several minutes – for excited gnomes were like excited children and it was far easier to let them tire themselves out than to try to get them to be quiet - before continuing.

‘Now we come to the elves. No team performs a greater variety of roles. The elves keep The List, they order the presents and arrange shipment, they co-ordinate and manage every aspect of The Way. On the run itself they are the route and drop navigators. On the sledge the Timekeeper is second in command to the Gift Bearer. This year’s Timekeeper has filled that role for the last four years, and I am proud to appoint Columba for a fifth year.’ The elderly elf bowed politely as Christmas presented him with a two-faced watch. One face counted down a year - from sunrise on December 25^th to sunset on Christmas Eve. The reverse face counted down a single night. The elves applauded and the reindeer stamped their feet two or three times. The gnomes responded half-heartedly for they disliked the elves superior attitude and their refusal to acknowledge - as anyone with a heart would - that the gnomes were by far the most important team on The Way.

‘Last but not least we come to those brave runners who pull our heavy sledge around the world in a single night. No reindeer has ever run The Way more than seven times. No reindeer has ever run as leader more than five times.’ Reindeer stretched their necks and flicked up their ears as they waited for the news they all wanted to hear. ‘This year one reindeer will break both those records - Rock!’ As Rock smiled modestly the other reindeer stamped the ground, snorted and the females who had antlers rattled them together. Even the gnomes joined in, for reindeer were not as pompous as the elves.

‘I’m sure you’ll all want to get together with your team leaders now and start making plans for this year’s Way. Can I remind you that on Saturday night in the town hall there is a dance with music provided by the gnomes brass band’. The gnomes cheered. ‘During the interval the elves will entertain us with a display of Scottish country dancing.’ The gnomes groaned.

‘So, this year’s Way has started; now let us pray together to our patron for its success …’

Columba coughed and whispered into Christmas’s ear.

‘I have just been reminded’ said Christmas ‘that I have not announced the final position on The Way. This year, the Gift Bearer, as he has been for the last two thousand years, will be me, Moshe bar Jacob, of the house of David and the tribe of Judah. I was born in 48 B.C. in the town of Bethlehem during the high priesthood of Hyrcanus II and the second consulate of Gaius Julius Caesar. For twelve years I was chief shepherd of the Temple flock. Then, one cold, clear winter’s night, I visited a child born in a stable and lying in a manger. That night I brought the child his first present and because of that, and all that has happened since then, the world has come to know me as Father Christmas.’

Chapter 5 – The Challenge

After the announcement, groups of elves, gnomes and reindeer stood in groups and gossiped about their favorite subject - who would make the team to run The Way. A group of five-year-old reindeer gathered around Deke and discussed their chances.

‘How about you Polaris?’ Deke asked.

‘Nah, I’d rather go to the Fall Ball.’

‘But you’re fast’ Deke protested.

‘Yeh I’m fast, I’m faster over 50 miles than any other five-year-old. But after 50 miles I tire quickly and The Way is a 31 hour non-stop trip around the world. It’s too hard. I’d rather do the ball and you can’t do both. Anyway what chance have I got when you’re in the trials?’

‘You should have made it last year Deke’ said Rigel, ‘you were unlucky.’

‘Thanks, but luck had nothing to do with it. No four-year-old has made the team since Rock.’

‘Rock, yeh, he’s the man.’

‘The one and only.’

‘The greatest reindeer ever to pull a sledge. Well, that’s what the gnomes say. Anyway, excitement’s over, I’m going to eat.’

The group walked down towards the coast where the snow was already melting, exposing tasty, green, spring shoots. As they got to Lookout Point they stopped. Trey and Wolfbait were scratching their heads against one of the sundials, exposing the stubs of what would be this year’s antlers.

‘Well’ said Deke, ‘if it isn’t the freaks.’

‘Heh’ said Wolfbait, ‘that’s what I’ve just said.’

‘What are you doing here anyway’ Rigel asked, ‘have they closed the kiddies’ playground?’

‘Bro’ said Wolfbait, ‘you know the opening hours, and heh, you should be careful on that see-saw, I think you were going too fast yesterday.’

Rigel took a step forward but Deke stopped him. ‘You children go back to your games, we’ve got real work to do.’

‘The Way, said Wolfbait, ‘yeh, we just heard the announcement.’

‘You heard the announcement and what’ said Polaris, ‘you’re going to enter?’ The five-year-olds all laughed.

Wolfbait straightened up. ‘Yeh, we thought we’d give it a go, didn’t we Trey?’

Wolfbait winked at Trey who backed up his friend. ‘Yeh, we thought we’d show you guys how it should be done.’

‘What!’ said Deke. ‘You’ll show us?’

‘No, wait a second guys’ Rigel interrupted, ‘maybe we should let them show us how it should be done. You know, maybe we’ve been doing it wrong all this time. Let little Trey here take out the Christmas sledge carrying a billion presents and then throw a 360. Imagine it guys. Bosun would come up out of that hold like a grizzly bear with a toothache. Why he’d rip his antlers off and shove them …’

The reindeer butted heads together and guffawed.

‘Bosun!’ Polaris gasped and fell down in the snow laughing at the thought of what that that bad tempered gnome would do.

‘360!’ Rigel howled as he rolled in the slush.

Even Grollier smiled as he imagined the gnomes trying to sort out a billion presents after the sledge had flipped a 360.

Embarrassed, Trey said, ‘The rules say the trials are open to any reindeer, four-years-old and up. I can try out if I want to’.

‘And you think you’ll measure up to Rock’s standards?’ Deke asked. ‘Do you know how much training you have to put in just to make it to the trials? The 50 mile sprints, the 100 mile runs at speed, the, the 200 mile cross-country marathons. You think you can go from playing games to that?’

‘What’s up Deke, scared of the competition?’ Trey asked.

‘Scared? Not of anyone. I’m Deke, son of Gus, son of Wally, my father and his father ran The Way and I will too. What’s your pedigree junior?’

Trey snorted and pawed angrily at the snow.

Grollier whispered something into Deke’s ear. ‘Ahh, I understand’ said Deke, nodding. Grollier whispered, ‘Take it easy on the kid will you.’

‘No offence junior’ said Deke to Trey. ‘When I mentioned pedigree I didn’t realize that you don’t know who your father is or that your mother used to’ he paused, ‘tramp through the woods.’

Trey lunged forward and Wolfbait squared his small shoulders, ready for the fight.

Nose to nose with Deke, Trey said, ‘Here’s my list of fancy ancestors. Father –ran away before I was born, name unknown. Mother - eaten by wolves on my second birthday. I may not have your special bloodline but I’m as good as you. I’ll run The Way this Christmas. In fact, I’ll do it by beating you head to head in the trials. Oh, and along the way I’ll throw in a 360, just for fun. You might have pedigree but I’ve got talent you can only dream of.’

‘You’ll beat me? Junior you’ll be lucky to catch my shadow as it disappears over the hill in front of you. Besides, you’re only four; even I didn’t make it into the team last year. No four-year-old has run The Way since Rock, and you’re no Rock.’

‘If I win the trials I’ll be old enough. Besides, Rock’s too old’ said Trey, ‘he shouldn’t be running.’

The whole group went quiet.

‘Whoa, that’s blasphemy man’ said Polaris, ‘Rock is The Way.’

‘Have you reindeer nothing better to do than stand here gossiping like a gaggle of gnomes?’ The voice was deep and authoritative and the circle opened up to reveal a solitary reindeer, the hair on his head and back a distinguished silver and with the buds of this year’s antlers just starting to break through between his ears.

‘Rock’ the youngsters said nervously.

Rock strode into the centre of the circle.

‘You boys have spent the winter living on lichen’ said Rock, ‘now spring’s almost here and soon there’ll be leaves and berries and wildflowers. Go out there and eat, build up your muscles, stretch those legs, get into shape. Training for the runners starts on midsummer’s day. Until then – eat! And Deke, hope to see you there.’

‘I’ll be there sir’ Deke answered.

Rock walked on through the circle, which parted like the sea for his passing. As he passed Trey he nodded to him and said ‘Two White Socks’.

When Rock was out of earshot Rigel said, ‘Two White Socks! That’s your real name?’ Everyone looked down at Trey’s front legs. ‘My, he has got two white socks. Aah, isn’t that cute.’

The five-year-olds went away laughing. When they’d left Wolfbait said, ‘Trey, I only said we’d run because those freaks were irritating me.’

‘That’s OK Wolfbait, you do what you want’ said Trey. ‘But I’m going to show Deke, son of Gus, son of Wally, that I’m better than him. I’m going to take him on in the trials, head to head, and beat him. This is no game Wolfbait. This is war.’

Chapter 6 – The Parcel Delivery Problem

May 1

238 days to Christmas

Professor Pascal looked at the senior class of elves and wondered how they would react to the problem she was about to set them.

‘Class, Father Christmas has the following problem.’ She turned and wrote on the board:

300 million homes

500 million children

1 billion presents

1 night to deliver them in.

She turned back to the class. ‘Father Christmas has only one night in which to deliver presents to 500 million children, so of course he wants to make those deliveries by the shortest route and in the least possible time. This is a common problem; it even has its own name - the Parcel Delivery Problem. But it’s a problem with one little snag – it’s insoluble. Why is it insoluble? Well let’s say Father Christmas has 10 presents to deliver to 10 isolated cabins right here in Alaska. The number of possible routes he could take to deliver those 10 presents is – anyone?’

‘3,628,800’ a young elf voice answered immediately.

‘So’ Pascal continued, ‘to deliver presents to just 10 homes he has a choice of over three million different routes. Imagine how many different routes we could take to deliver presents to 300 million homes. Let’s take a number, any number…’

‘Five’ someone shouted out.

Pascal wrote 5 in the top left hand corner of the blackboard and followed it with zeros. After she had written a line of zeros she stopped and turned back to face the class.

‘I’ve stopped’ she said ‘not because that is the right answer but because I would have to write so many zeros that even though I covered the whole blackboard I would still not have enough space to write the number of all the possible routes he could take on Christmas Eve. So, I think you’ll agree that we have an insoluble problem.’

She put the chalk down carefully on the desk. ‘You’ she looked slowly across the class, ‘will solve this problem. By November 30^th you will deliver a route for Father Christmas to deliver presents to 300 million homes in a single night.’

As she said this Pascal carefully watched the elves faces; half looked horrified and half looked elated. The horrified ones clearly understood the complexity of the problem but were overawed by it. The elated ones clearly underestimated the complexity of the problem but they were committed and enthusiastic. Her challenge was to meld one half’s clear sightedness with the other half’s optimism and produce a single team that pulled together.

‘Now for the good news, I don’t need a perfect solution, but I do need one that is 99 percent perfect. Don’t worry too much about “Should we deliver to the east side of town first or the west?”, we can afford to lose the odd second. What we can’t afford to do is miss somewhere out. Just imagine a child waking up on Christmas morning to find no presents at all.’ Pascal looked sheepish as she said this.

It had been after one of the European wars. Old countries had disappeared, new countries with new names appeared on the map, and some towns sat on disputed borders between arguing neighbors. It was just such a disputed town that Pascal had omitted from the route. All the children in that small town woke up on Christmas morning and found there were no presents.

Pascal continued, ‘In addition, four of you will be selected as singing navigators. Reindeer have difficulty memorizing a route with anything over 1000 deliveries. So four of you will ride with the reindeer and sing the route to them. Two of you will memorize the route between the four million named cities, towns and villages on this planet. The other two will memorize the route order to the 300 million homes in those named places. You will begin learning the route on December 1^st.

‘Now, any questions?’

Chapter 7 – Summer Training

June 21

187 days to Christmas

Written over the high double doors of the large barn were the words “Livery Stable”. Inside the stable, Milt and gnomes from the rigger team opened recycled oil drums and pulled out sets of harness. The drums had kept the harness dry and safe from mice all winter. In teams of four they stretched each harness, pulling it to test its strength. Then they searched the leather for any cracks or splits. Finally, they rubbed it down with grease to keep the leather supple.

At the back of the stable, gnomes from the coach-building team clambered up a high rack and took down small, one-reindeer sledges. They shook them vigorously to check the joints were tight, then turned them over and greased the runners before lining them up in a row behind the doors.

When all the sledges were greased and ready, Milt looked out through the postern gate and saw a queue of about two hundred reindeer waiting nervously.

He stepped back inside and said, in his steadfast mid-west farmers voice – a voice that had refused to break even as hailstorms, drought, tornados, and swarms of grasshoppers destroyed a year’s work – ‘Customers are waiting boys, time we opened for business.’

Gnomes drew back the latch and pushed open the doors, bumping it into the noses of those reindeer who stood too close.

‘Form a queue gentlemen’ said Milt, ‘we have 80 sledges and sets of harness. Those of you who get rigged up this morning are to return here when the sun reaches its height.’ He walked down the line counting the reindeer until he reached 80. ‘All of you runners past this point are to return here once the sun has risen to its highest point and starts to fall.’ Reindeer, like all other animals - and man until not so long ago - told the time by the sun and stars and not by a machine that they had to carry round with them. So rare were watches in this town that the Timekeeper’s elaborate watch was the symbol of his office.

Milt continued, ‘Any of you who don’t get a sledge this afternoon will have first choice tomorrow morning. Every runner will get the same practice time. I’m not a runner and I have no favorites.’ The reindeer knew that Milt ran straight so they accepted his ruling without grumbling.

Gnomes began to move along the line, harnessing the 80 who would get a sledge this morning. Milt walked back down the line, inspecting their work as young gnomes rushed about, eager to impress. They all hoped that, come December, they would be the rigger who ran The Way.

One gnome snatched a harness from a rail, ran towards a reindeer and while still four paces away flung it like a lasso. The harness dropped over the reindeer’s head and settled round his neck. The gnome sprang up onto the runner’s back. Startled, the reindeer reared up and threw the gnome into the dirt.

Milt reached a hand down and pulled the red-faced gnome up. ‘Good trick Thunder but this isn’t a circus. When you’re on the run …’ Thunder’s eyes brightened ‘..you need to move calmly among your runners so you don’t startle them.’

The older gnomes grinned. These young ones would learn quickly that Milt only had one way of doing things – calm and steady - and any tricks or showmanship would guarantee your elimination at the first selection trial.

Milt moved on to the next reindeer and ran his fingers along the neck strap and bellyband. His fingers paused. ‘Lightning isn’t it; aren’t you and Thunder Bosun’s boys?’

‘Yes sir, we’re twins.’

‘Well Lightning, if you have a kink in the harness, by the time your runner’s been up there for one hour that kink will have rubbed away a patch of hair and skin and he’s going to start bleeding. Now he’s on the run, he can’t stop and call a vet, he’s going to have to run another 30 hours with a bleeding sore in his shoulder. And when he gets back, if he gets back, he’s going to kick your backside all over Moot Green. So, never rush when you’re putting on a harness. A rushed job is bad job.’ He patted the gnome on the shoulder, ‘Take the harness off and start over.’

As Milt moved on he saw every reindeer suddenly straighten up; hooves pawed at the dirt, nostrils flared. Milt smiled, turned round and saw Rock and Christmas strolling together towards the stable.

‘Fine morning Milt’ said Christmas as he stopped and slowly looked around the gnomes busily but calmly harnessing reindeer. ‘Do you think we have a candidate rigger here for The Way?’

‘Every one of them is a candidate Christmas.’ The gnomes beamed, for they loved compliments. ‘But only the best one will run The Way.’

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