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Christmas Chronicles 8.8 - The Word
00:28:03
Christmas Chronicles 8.8 - The Word
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Classical89 KBYU FM Announcer
Classical89kbyufm presents the Christmas Chronicles an exclusive dramatic reading by Tim Slover. This eight part series captures the magic and mystery of everyone's favorite Yuletide character, revealing a true and complete history of Santa Claus. In episode seven, Klaus and Anna drafted protocols, rules and regulations concerning children's toy requests. Their beloved Dasher had a fatal encounter with the evil schemings of Rolf Eckhoff. A new flyer, Ranulph, distinguished by his scarlet fur, provided comfort and hope for the future of Christmas. Episode 8 the Word performed by Richard Johnstone and Tim Slover.
- [01:15]
Narrator
The eight fliers were stamping the ground, blowing steam, ready to depart for their long Christmas Eve flight. From the sleigh, Klaus looked up to the front of the line. It was strange to see the small scarlet reindeer hitched beside Dancer in the lead traces. His scant spread of antlers scarcely came to the larger reindeer's shoulder. Could this jolly little fellow really take Dasher's place? Klaus swallowed hard. He missed seeing his steady, great hearted friend leading the team. The moment of Dasher's passing was etched into his heart. So too were his last words. Be of good cheer. Those had also been the first words the scarlet reindeer had said when he and Anna first glimpsed him by the lake in the moonlight later the same night. Be of good cheer, he had said. His voice was light and clear and seemed on the verge of bubbling over with mirth. You know you will see your beloved again. Not for a long time, klaus had replied sadly. The little reindeer had come and rubbed against him for comfort. That will make the meeting all the merrier, he had said. My name's Ranulph. I've been sent to help. May I? Klaus heard the echo of what he himself had said to those who had suffered losses from the Black Death so many years before. He looked into the little reindeer's eyes, which were a remarkable emerald green, and saw behind them an outsized soul. You're most welcome, he said. At that the little reindeer had been so pleased that he leapt 30ft into the air and flew three times around Castle Noel, barrel rolling and doing back flips all along the way. Thank you. He called out. Klaus gazed up in astonishment. I hope he doesn't do that when he's hitched to the sleigh, he said. And Anna had replied, I like him. He's My favourite colour. Everyone had warmed to Ranulph's high spirits. It was almost as if he had come to help them through their grief at losing Dasher and to cope with their dread of the demon who had struck him down. He exulted in fun and had immediately introduced new winter sports to the True North. Klaus had gasped when he first saw Ranulph skid gracefully across the frozen lake by Castle Noel. It's called hoof skating. He called out. Why not try it? Soon all the reindeer were racing each other across the ice and dividing into teams to play hockey. In the end, Klaus had had to be a bit stern. We all have work to do if we're going to make this year's deliveries, Ranulph. No more of these reindeer games until after Christmas. Right, boss. Ranulph had said cheerfully and led the way off the ice. Now it was Christmas Eve. Klaus stood up in the sleigh. It was time to find out if the red acrobat could lead the team on. Ran off.
- [04:31]
Dunstan Wyatt
He cried.
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Narrator
And no barrel rolling, please. The sleigh took off like a shot. It thundered down the thoroughfare of ice away from Castle Noel, silhouetted against the purple and gold of a true north sunset. Ranulph took two strides for every one of dancers, but he never tired, and the team followed. Well. They entered the straight road, which opened up suddenly before them, and and sped down it through the clouds. Klaus had no idea where it would touch the earth, only that it would be where the love of Christmas burned brightest.
- [05:06]
Dunstan Wyatt
Time.
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Narrator
Stop. Commanded Klaus, halfway down the straight road. And immediately they plunged through the brilliant colours of the aurora Borealis and chronolepsy began. May this stop the demon, Klaus fervently prayed, and at first it looked as though it had. The road shot to the ground. The two silver pots with their variegated holly bushes appeared and anchored its entrance into the world like sentinels. There was nothing to see but the sunset winking through the snow clad trees of the Black Forest. Klaus began to think of his lists and deliveries. But then the demon was suddenly there, just beyond the foot of the road. A grey fog of malevolence. It had appeared with silent, deadly speed. Klaus's heart sank. Chronolepsy had not even slowed it down. Hold. He called to his team. And they trotted to a halt. Across the final dozen feet of road they faced the demonic cloud. All was still for a moment. No one moved a muscle. Then the demon let out a terrible moan. It was low at first, almost a whimper, but it soon grew to a Mighty agonizing sound. Like all the despairing souls of the world crying together, The reindeer fell to their knees in horror and hung their antlered heads. Paralyzing dread crept into their hearts. With a malevolent gurgle, the cloud leapt onto the road and began to melt it away like acid. Klaus jumped from his sleigh in a pan. If he did not act fast, all his reindeer would fall into the same black despair that had taken Dasher, and he would lose his tie to the earth forever. He was about to make a desperate charge at the cloud when he heard a voice say, loose me. It was said with such calm command that at first Klaus was confused. Surely that is Dasher's voice, he thought. Then he saw that one reindeer had not fallen to his knees nor hung his head. Little Ranulph stood upright and resolute. He glowered at the cloud, his green eyes blazing. This Christmas Eve fog is for me. Loose me. Without a word, Klaus unhitched the reindeer. Thanks, boss, ranulph said in his normal, carefree voice and bugled his shrill little bugle. It rang out clear as a bell and cut off the demon's moan. Then, still bugling, he stampeded into the grey cloud. For a moment, the little reindeer was quick, completely hidden inside the awful, dreary greyness, and Klaus could see nothing of the titanic struggle going on inside. Then the cloud shuddered and boiled with rage, and he caught a glimpse of Ranulph tossing his head again and again. Why, he's pronging it with his antlers, Klaus thought. Sensible plan. But suddenly the cloud grew dark as night lightning flickered around its edges and stabbed into its interior. Oh no. Thought Klaus. He'll be killed. He ran towards the cloud, but then he heard Ranulph's sharp bugle again. A moment later, the demon howled in pain and rage, lost its nerve, and fled into the sky.
- [08:32]
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- [09:31]
Narrator
Well done. Ran off. Klaus cried. Not done yet, boss. Ran off. Said, back in a minute. And he rocketed into the air after the demon. There followed one of the epic aerial battles in all of history, and none to see it except Klaus and the other seven fliers had begun to revive. As soon as the cloud had been driven from the road, Ranulph caught up with the fog In a scarlet flash. He bugled and pronged it again. The demon shrieked and streaked away at blinding speed, trying to get away from the searing pain of that agonizing sound and those sharp little antlers. But it could not. Wherever it zigged, Ranulph zigged. Wherever it zagged, Ranulph zagged and pronged again. All of the other reindeer laughed and called his name. Ranulph. Ranulph. In response, Ranulph did a cartwheel in the sky. It's called sky hoofing. He called out. Try it sometime. Look out. Klaus yelled in alarm, for the demon was now on the attack. It concentrated all the hatred and envy and desolation it could muster and charged the little reindeer from behind. If it had not put all its malevolence into that strike, it might have saved itself. But Ranulph turned in a flash and lowered his head and took the full force of the demon's charge. His antlers bit deep into the very heart of the cloud. A scream such as no one there had ever heard before, even in their nightmares rent the air, and the cloud looked for a moment as if it would come apart in tatters. But then it pulled itself together and disappeared in an instant over the distant horizon. A moment later, a flash of sheet lightning and a low rumble of thunder came from where it had fled. Ranulph landed lightly beside Klaus. You see, he panted, all those reindeer games paid off. From that day, the demon that had been Rolf Eckhoff hated and feared Ranulph above all persons. And where the little reindeer is, he will not come. That is why, at the conclusion of each Christmas Eve, Ranulph stands guard at the bottom of the straight road until all of the other reindeer and Klaus have made it safely up its length. He Protects the precious link to the true north right up to the moment it is drawn safely up out of the world. And later, Anna stitched a great work of art called the Battle of Ranulph and the Demon, which hangs in the reception hall of Castle Noel to this day. Incidentally, the demon now loathes two colours, especially when they appear together. Red for Ranulph's remarkable coat, and green for his piercing emerald eyes. And the sound of Ranulph's high pitched bugle, it cannot abide. So I advise you, should you happen upon an evil cloud demon, show it Christmas colors and bugle like a small scarlet reindeer, and you will be proof against it. And now I've come almost to the end of my brief biography of Klaus. All during that long Christmas Eve, he flew over the continents of the earth and worked his age old magic, delivering toys to children in many lands, spreading happiness and hope with each gift, as he had always done. And many times in that enchanted night, Klaus laughed out loud, thinking of Ranulph's great victory over the demon. And for the sheer joy of making Christmas. Ha ha ha. He laughed. Ho ho. And each peal of laughter floated down from the sky onto the sleeping houses below like a benediction. But, esteemed reader, will it always be so? Will Klaus always come into the world at Christmas? Alas, too few are now the places where the straight road may find purchase on the earth. For as St Nicholas predicted, the demon has struck at Christmas and struck hard. Unable to come at Klaus himself, the demon has assaulted humanity. Hundreds of years of simple gifts freely given out of the fondness and mirth in Klaus soul. Gradually at first and then more rapidly, have turned into a frenzy of commerce and competition until many in the world grow heart sick. As Christmas approaches, and that is the demon's work, love for Klaus begins to wane. So too does understanding of what he really means. Hearts knit together. Belief in happiness just for itself and in the joy of causing it without judgment or profit. And above all, hope. Hope that in a cold time, life will come again. And as the love of Christmas wanes, the demon that was Rolf Eckhoff grows steadily more potent. As he haunts the world, he spreads his gloom wherever he can. His grayness enters hearts and they falter and lose their way. And now we come to the heart of the matter and to the reason for this green book. Do not imagine it arrived in your hands by chance. It was made for you. If you would fight the demon, tell people this true account of Klaus of his youth as a wood carver and of his goodness to the people of his village. Spread the word about Anna and Great hearted Dasher and the Green Council. About the splendors of the True north and what is done there. Drink a mug of peppermint hot chocolate with a friend and explain Chronolepsy and the Maya Principle and the Great Pact. Tell your family of the merry antics of Ranulph, the red reindeer. Like Klaus himself, you, reader, can kindle belief again. That is why we did not let you keep the Green Book. To show to others the cynical world does not need more pale and weary proofs. It needs vibrant and vivid belief in things it cannot see. Only that will keep the tie with the Straight Road strong so that Klaus may do his work. And what is his work? Only healing the world of its hopelessness. Only curing it of its greyness only year by year helping the world remember that it has a heart. And so, dear reader, I bid you this year and every year, the very merriest of me Merry Christmases and I entreat you spread the word. Dunstan Wyatt.
- [17:02]
Dunstan Wyatt
And so I finished Professor Wyatt's biography of Klaus. Before I fell asleep that December night, I looked again through the rest of the book. It all made sense.
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Narrator
Sense now.
- [17:11]
Dunstan Wyatt
The beautiful engravings. The flight charts and maps, the production figures and graphs. The Great Pact with its red wax seal. I thought about how Professor Wyatt and Ranulph must have meant for the book to fall from the sleigh as it sped up the Straight road. And the road must have touched the earth where it did because. Well, because of me. Because I believe in Christmas. Yes, I do. And now I knew why that was so important. And now so do you. We all have to decide. Are we with Rolf Eckhoff or are we with Klaus? When I woke up the next morning, stiff from sleeping all night in a desk chair, I was glad. It was a stage Saturday. That meant nobody had to rush off to do anything in particular. I checked to see that everyone was still in the house. They were. My wife was already at her desk paying bills. One boy was making French toast in the kitchen. The other was still snoring lightly in his bed. I woke. That boy, gathered the wife into the kitchen and asked the other boy to make enough French toast for everyone. I told them I had something to say and that it might take a while. And son, I said, record me, will you? Because what I'm about to tell you is important. My wife sighed. I can hear the capital I in that last word. Right, said the boy, and got the equipment he used with his band. When everyone had settled, I looked at them one by one around the kitchen table. I took a deep breath, and then I told them everything. Everything that had happened to me the day before. Every word of Klaus's biography, which, as Professor Wyatt had predicted, I remembered with ease. When I got to the part about Klaus meeting Kelzong on his first chronoleptic Christmas Eve flight, one boy mused, they must have been at Potala palace in Lhasa. Where is that? I said. Tibet. Kelson Gyatsa was the seventh Dalai Lama. 1708-1757, the other boy volunteered. Everyone knows that. Keep going. This is pretty interesting. And I did. I kept going until I had recited the entire book, finishing sometime in the afternoon. Spread the word, I concluded. That's what Professor Wyatt said we have to do. There was silence for a moment around the sofas in the family room to which we had drifted sometime during my recitation. Then, wow. A boy said. The other boy said, let me support that comment. Wow. Another moment of silence. It really is the best story you've ever told us, my wife said. Thank you, I said, gratified. Then, wait. No, this isn't a story. Haven't you been listening? This really happened. This is all true. No one said anything. You believe me, don't you? I asked. My wife got that patient look on her face. The boys exchanged glances. Wait, I said. I ran down to the study and came back with a piece of paper and gave it to my wife. There. That's the note Professor Wyatt left when he took the green book. See? She studied it, passed it wordlessly to a boy. He looked it over and said, it's in your handwriting, Dad. I snatched it back. No, it isn't, I said, though upon examination, it did look a lot like my handwriting. An uncanny parallel I hadn't noticed before. I could see how they might make a mistake. Well, then, what about my being able to recite from the Green Book without correcting myself or even pausing? I asked. It was fantastic, a boy said, checking his recording equipment. I'm glad we got it down. You really are a born storyteller, my wife said, smiling. How do you come up with it all? The Green Book. I like it. I was flabbergasted. They didn't believe me. Was Rolf Eckhoff at work? Even in my own family? Wait, wait, I said. How about how I was stuck in the snow up on the mountain? How do you explain that? I got home. My wife got a funny sort of worried look on her face. She excused herself for a moment and came back with her own piece of paper. This is the notification from the tow truck guy that he submitted his bill to our insurance company. She handed me the email for pulling you out of the snow last night. I stared at the paper. I was in shock. I'm telling you, cross my heart and hope to never celebrate Christmas again. Everything I've told you is true, I said. The boys were looking a little uncomfortable. My wife frowned. Honestly, dear, why do you have to take everything? So far we've said we like your story. But it isn't a story, I protested weakly. I'm sure you boys have lots to do on a Saturday, my wife said. Right, said one. Thanks for the great story, dad, said the other. But I told you it isn't. But they were gone. I looked at the paper again. There was no tow truck, I said. Oh, honestly, said my wife. The evidence is staring you in the face. The next couple of weeks were the most miserable I can remember. I would try to talk to my family about my experience, try to persuade them about Klaus and the True north, and at first they were patient, but before long they just didn't want to hear about it anymore. I didn't mention it to anyone else, and as the bright memory of that day in the mountains began to recede into the past, it faded and got muddled. Had I really seen an elevated spirit? Had I really heard a reindeer talk? It had all seemed so real, but maybe it wasn't. On one subject, however, I was clear. Or mostly, there had been no tow truck. How could I have forgotten a whole tow truck? After a week I started to forget the words of the Green Book. It was recorded, of course, but I found I didn't want to go back and listen to it. Usually in December I attacked Christmas tasks with a kind of manic glee. This year I found I just wasn't up to it. I asked the boys to put up the Christmas lights. I found it hard to shop for presents. The heart had gone out of the holidays, and everything around me began to look a little gray. But on Christmas Eve I tried to pull myself together. I figured I owed it to my family. It had snowed a couple of days before, and the world was fresh and white again. I bundled up and went for a late afternoon walk in the neighborhood, just to try to straighten myself out. As I trudged along, I brooded on all that had happened, and for some reason I began thinking about it in a new way. Klaus in his village, figuring out how to help his mourning neighbors and finding joy in It Anna and then Dasher, bringing hope to Klaus when he despaired of making his Christmas Eve deliveries. And then suddenly, easily, like a whisper in the December air, a great truth wafted gently into me and blew away the gray. If the True north and Castle Noel and Anna's maple sugar cookies were made up, then the hope and joy they represented were not. And if I had concocted the whole story because I wanted so fervently to believe in Christmas magic, and, well, Christmas was magic enough all on its own. It didn't need my story. Hope and joy, they were enough to live a life on. As I walked back home, the sun began to set on the houses I passed. Christmas lights started to wink on in the east. Jupiter was rising above the mountains. My spirit spirits lifted. I sang a Christmas carol softly to myself. God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay. I was happy about Christmas again. In fact, I was so happy that as I plodded up our steep driveway and admired the lights the boys had put up. We favor the big colored bulbs. I didn't really notice a sharp, spicy scent in the air. And when I saw a boy at the side of the house, scanning the horizon in high excitement, it did not at first register that he was looking for me. But he was.
- [25:45]
Narrator
Dad.
- [25:46]
Dunstan Wyatt
He shouted, thank goodness you're home. Come into the backyard. And then, when I didn't actually run, he shouted, hurry. Come on. And disappeared around the corner of the house. That's when I registered the scent in the air. Oh, my, I thought. And then, could it be? I wondered. I sprinted into the back yard. There was my wife, bundled up in a quilt and pack boots as though she had just come out from a long winter's nap. How like Anna she looks, I suddenly thought. And there were the boys, underdressed for the cold as always, and all three were staring with shining eyes. What were they staring at? Why, at two silver pots, each engraved with a star and a reindeer rampant, and at two variegated holly bushes growing in those pots from which the sweet scent of peppermint was perfuming the frosty air, And at the new snow in our backyard, all patterned and churned with the hoof marks of reindeer and the track of a sleigh taking off into the Christmas Eve sky. Oh, I must tell you, when we called our insurance company after Christmas, they knew nothing about any tow truck. Spread the word.
- [27:32]
Narrator
And so, dear reader, I bid you this year and every year, the very merriest of merry Christmases, and I entreat you, spread the word dunstan Wyatt.
- [28:18]
Classical89 KBYU FM Announcer
You have heard Episode eight the Word the last episode performed by Tim Slover and Richard Johnstone. This concludes the Christmas Chronicles, an eight part dramatic reading written by Tim Slover. Music is by Robert Robary. The series producer is Judith Olassen Turney and and technical producer is Jackie Tateishi, assisted by Juan Mijares. The Executive Producer is Walter Rudolph. To acquire a CD copy of the Christmas Chronicles as you've heard it and for more information about the Christmas Chronicles, visit classical89.org the Christmas Chronicles is produced by Classical 89 KBYU FM, Provo, Utah in cooperation with the BYU Division of Continuing Education Education.
- [29:17]
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