Young Nicholas
It’s nearly Christmas, so thought I would try my hand at a little folk tale.
To begin with he was small and weak. A child that would likely not survive in the harsh sub Arctic. One less worry for his widowed mother. That’s what the women of the village said. When she remarried a noisy rosy little sister and brother soon followed to disturb his solitary life, but Nicholas loved them both and felt grateful to his new stepfather for just a little notice, small kindnesses.
Suddenly, at fourteen Nicholas grew. From the tiny shy boy who liked to sit quietly in the corner of any room he became not tall and strong, to be admired by other boys, but a lanky youth who felt embarrassed and uncomfortable in this strange body. He fast outgrew all his clothes and his mother had to sew new ones out of whatever came to hand. Worst of all was a coat and hat made from a red quilt that his Grandmother had made years before all trimmed with the white fox that his father had caught long ago. She was so proud of it, but Nicholas hated the very sight of it. Wasn’t it bad enough to be a six foot freak, without being made a joke in a scarlet outfit.
His stepfather expected him to work around the homestead and the days were long and hard, but in the evenings he would sit in his old corner by the fire and fashion the most delicate toys and ornaments from any rough piece of wood he could find. Something he was good at.
Little wood of any kind was to be had now, in this terrible winter. Everything that could be burned was burned, and only the barest food was to be had. Grandmother and Grandfather were the first to give in. Sadness, but also guilty relief at two less mouths to feed. Nicholas couldn’t help but wonder if his stepfather would have truly grieved at the loss of the child not his own.
Worst for Nicholas were watching the little ones suffer. He tried to amuse them; anything to take their minds off the hunger pains, but he felt his spirits sink lower with every day of the relentless cold.
That night the snow glistened with its cruel crystal white, and suddenly the sky was filled with lights, green, red, purple. He had seen them many times but this time they seemed to be calling him, leading him out into the whiteness and the great sky. When everyone was asleep he quietly got up. He had saved some scraps of his food, and managed’ two tiny reindeer out of shards of wood. He carefully wrapped them in two little rag parcels, tied them with a bit of red ribbon and left them gently on the little ones’ pillows for them to find in the morning. Then he put on the hated hat and coat, and walked out of the house and away from the village.
He kept to what he hoped was a straight path keeping the lights in front of him, but walking through the thick heavy snow, soon wore him down. His legs ached and he began to wonder how long he could last. Suddenly he was aware that he was not alone. A reindeer was walking beside him. He felt such joy to have the animal with him, but he did not dare stretch out his hand to touch it. He had heard of the strange visions that people saw when lost in the snow. The reindeer was just in his mind, he knew, but it helped him onward. Gradually another came, and more. He knew they were not real, but he could hear their breaths on the cold air, and see the cloud of snow crystals kicked up by their hooves.
How long could he go on with his strange companions he did not know. He did not feel afraid; he felt a strange feeling of elation, of certainty. There was something waiting for him out there in the snow and the eerie lights he was sure, and as yet he was still warmed by the red coat that had been made with so much love.