This story is copyrighted. Do not copy, print or distribute this
story without written permission from the author.
By
M.C.
Woodruff
You might think it would be hard to be lonely, living at
the North Pole in Christmas Town. After all, how could anyone possibly be
lonely when you live with Santa and Mrs. Claus, a great herd of deer (there are
more than just eight, you know) and a hundred thousand elves, all working elbow
to elbow six days a week (rule number one in Christmas Town and Santa’s
workshop is no one works on Sunday) all year long? And yet, that was exactly
what Alpert was; he was the loneliest elf in the North Pole.
It’s
not that other elves didn't like Alpert. Those elves who knew him, liked Alpert
a lot—he was a very likeable elf—they just respected his privacy, thinking that
he preferred to keep to himself. They had no way of knowing that Alpert was
just too shy to tell anyone that that was not really the way he felt at all. He
longed to connect with the other elves, to have friends, but he had been alone
for so many centuries, he just didn't know any other way to be.
Every year, Christmas Day was a huge party at the North
Pole, celebrating the successful completion of another Christmas delivery. Alpert
always attended these celebrations, of course, everyone did. Fellow elves
hugged him, patted him on the back, pressed a cup of eggnog or hot chocolate
into his hand, or clinked his mug in a toast, shoved a cookie or piece of fudge
into his mouth, all of which Alpert accepted with a shy smile, but no one sat
with him or asked him to join their group. They did not do this out of
meanness; they just all assumed that he would prefer to be alone like he always
was, and would have felt awkward had they tried to include him. They did not
know how his heart cried out for just such an invitation.
You are probably wondering why Alpert was so lonely, how
anyone could be so lonely when surrounded by so many people who worked together
on a daily basis. Well, you see, Alpert was the only child born to an elderly
couple, who had not been blessed with a child until late in life. Alpert’s parents
loved him very much and always kept Alpert as close as they could. Perhaps they
were a little over-protective, but that was only because they loved their only
child so much and couldn't bear the thought of any harm coming to him. So,
Alpert had a very sheltered childhood.
When
he was old enough, Alpert’s father had made Alpert his apprentice in the mail
office, passing his job on from father to son. Alpert loved working the mail
office, performing the very important job of sorting Santa’s mail, and he loved
his parents just as much as they loved him and never left their side, as much
as was possible.
Now,
I am sorry to say that, while elves live for a very long time, they are not
immortal. When his parents became too old to care for themselves, Alpert took his
father’s place in the post office and cared for his parents as they had taken
care of him. This did not give Alpert a lot of time to spend with other elves
or to make friends, something that bothered his parents, but did not overly
concern Alpert when he was a young elf. His parents were the only friends he
needed. But as he grew older he began to realize that he longed to join other
elves in their merriment and socializing, but by then all of his time was spent
either in the mail-room or carrying for his parents, whose health had begun to
fail when Alpert was in the latter half of his first century.
Hundreds, perhaps even thousands of elves (there were far
too many for me to count, I know that), attended the funeral of Alpert’s
parents who went to sleep one night holding each other’s hand, and never woke
up again. Both Mrs. Claus and Santa shared some beautiful words, and everyone
expressed their love and condolences to Alpert, who accepted every kind word
and every warmly offered hug with the kind shy smile he was known for. Then they
all quietly went on their way, leaving Alpert to go home to his now empty
little hovel across the street from the mail office where he spent long days
reading through letters to Santa.
As
one of many postal elves, Alpert spent his work day sorting through vast stacks
of letters. His job was to copy down each child’s name and what they had asked
for. He then sorted the list between those children who had made the nice list
and those who had not quite made it (although really, many of those children
who might have been placed on the naughty list still found their way onto the
nice list under Alpert’s tender, watchful eye). The advent of the home computer
made Alpert’s job much easier and quicker, but he never rushed through the
children’s letters. He carefully read each one, and remembered many of the
children from previous years, and in many cases even recognized the children of
children who had grown to become parents themselves. He could often be heard by
passersby making comments such as, “Oh, Billy, you are so much like your papa.
He once sent a letter to Santa saying he was sorry for hitting a baseball
through the neighbor’s window too. Like father, like son, they always say,” or
“Cindi, two I’s no Y, you are growing up so fast. I’m sure Santa will make sure
you get the dolly with red hair this time. Oh, and look, you included a picture
of yourself so the elves can get the color right this time.” And he double
underlined “Red Hair” next to doll on the list next to Cindi’s name.
If truth be told, Alpert loved each child he placed on
Santa’s list, almost as much as Santa loved them himself. Even though not a
single letter was ever addressed to Alpert, and these children went happily
through their lives without ever knowing the quiet unassuming elf who read
their letters, he secretly imagined the letters were to him and that they loved
him as much as he did them. And so Alpert spent the years, decades and
centuries doing his job, reading the letters, making his lists, passing them on
to Santa, who checked them all twice, and quietly going to his empty home,
wishing there could be someone there waiting for him. But no one was; he couldn't even have a pet because he was allergic.
Then one day he picked up little Nadia Young’s letter. “Dear
Santa,” the letter read. “I hope everything is good in the North Pole, and that
all the elves are happy making toys. Does Rudolph’s nose really glow like a
light bulb? You know the part of the song that says you would even say it glows
and then everyone says, like a light bulb? Daddy always changes the words to
like a glow stick, but I think light bulbs are brighter. For Christmas this
year, please bring me a friend. Love, Nadia.”
A friend. Little eight-year-old Nadia just wanted a
friend. Now, as you know, all of the elves are magic. But what you might not
know, is that their magic tends to be rather specific, geared towards the
particular job they are tasked to perform (the video game production elves are
particularly powerful). Alpert’s special ability was to be able to hold a
child’s letter in his hands, close his eyes, and see the child in his heart.
When Alpert held Nadia’s letter and closed his eyes that day, he saw right into
that little girl’s heart. What he saw there brought tears to his eyes.
Little
Nadia Young was a small delicate child, who spent much of her time alone. Nadia
had been born with two clubbed feet, her feet twisted in the wrong direction.
She had learned to walk with her feet in casts, and after numerous operations to
try and correct her feet, had developed a rather awkward walk. There were some
children at school who poked fun at the way Nadia walked and often teased her.
So, Nadia, with the long curly dark hair and large brown eyes that her father loved
so much, was spending most of her childhood alone. She would often sit in her
living room, peeking through the blinds, watching the other children in her
neighborhood play, longing to join them, but afraid of being teased.
Tears came to Alpert’s eyes as he pressed this dear
child’s letter to his heart. But how could Santa give her the gift she wanted?
Not even Santa had magic strong enough to make a friend for Nadia, did he?
“Oh, Alpert, I’m sorry,” Santa said after holding the
letter to his heart just as Alpert had; Santa has all the magic every elf has
and more, after all. But even he has his limits. “I’m sorry, but I am afraid
you are right. I don’t know how we can make a friend for dear little Nadia.”
“But, we have to try, Santa, we just have to,” Alpert
lamented.
“Perhaps a teddy bear would make a good friend?” Santa
suggested, speaking more to himself than to Alpert.
“It would need to be a very special teddy bear,” Alpert
said. Like Santa, he was speaking more to himself. “She asked for a friend, not
a simple stuffed toy.”
“I am open to suggestions,” Santa said, this time looking
directly at Alpert over the rim of his antique wire frame glasses. If you could
have seen Santa’s lips under his bushy white beard you would have seen the
slight smile teasing the corner of his mouth, as if he knew something that Alpert
did not.
Thinking that Santa was rebuking him, Alpert hastily
apologized. “I did not mean to imply I could ever do your job, Santa. You know
better than anyone, the perfect gift for each child. I just feel for Nadia. I
felt her heartache, no child should be so lonely, Santa. Especially not at
Christmas.” Alpert fell silent and looked down at his hands, now clasped in his
lap.
“You mistake me, Alpert,” Santa said, placing a large
hand on the small elf’s shoulder. “Even Santa needs help, you know? Only God is
all knowing; I am just a toy maker. We have time before we need to be on our
way to deliver the gifts. You are almost done with your letters, I’m sure one
of the other elves in the mail sorting department will not mind taking over
your load. Why don’t you take some time and see what you can come up with for
sweet little Nadia Young?”
“I wouldn’t want to burden anyone with my work, Santa,” Alpert
said, although it was obvious that this was exactly what he would like to do.
“Buddy will be more than happy to take some of your
load,” Santa said, speaking as if it was already a done deal. “He always moves
through his allotment of letters quickly. He can use some more work to keep him
occupied. He does not have to read all of your letters; I know how much they
mean to you. But take a few days and see what you can come up with for Nadia.
She needs your help.”
“Thank you, Santa!” Alpert said, brimming with
excitement. He sprang from his chair, clutching Nadia’s letter in his hand. “I
will not let you down.”
“You will not let Nadia down, you mean,” Santa said,
tapping his nose with one large finger and smiling.
Alpert gave Santa one of his shy smiles, bowed, and
hurried from Santa’s office.
Elves passing him on the street said hello, wished him a
Happy Jubilee, or asked him how his day was going, but Alpert’s mind was
elsewhere and he barely acknowledged these polite salutations as he hurried to
his small home.
Locking
the front door behind him for privacy—no one in the North Pole worried about
break-ins—Alpert hurried into his study and took out a writing pad. He stared
at the blank page for several minutes, tapping his pen lightly against his
forehead, a ritual he always performed before writing. He began by making a
list of possible choices. He then added a second column in which he listed the
reasons why the choice might work and a third to list why it might not.
Possible
Choices
|
Possible
Benefits
|
Possible
Problems
|
||||||||||||
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|
|
The
list was longer of course, but he kept coming back to the last thing he had
written: himself. He couldn’t possibly leave the North Pole, could he? Well, he
doubted he would be missed, but this was his home. He looked around at his
small home. There was nothing in the kitchen except for the stove, sink and
refrigerator. His bedroom held only his bed and dresser. There were no pictures
in the bathroom, since he spent little time in there; he did all of his reading
in the study where he now sat, the only other room in the house. He looked
around; he looked at the comfortable chair he sat in, at his antique desk that
had been brand new when he had bought it over a century ago, at the books on
the bookshelf. Was that it? Was that really all he owned? He hadn’t meant to live
such a meager life; he’d just never needed anything other than books to read.
And of those books he really only read a few; A Christmas Carol, The Hobbit,
and The Winter Toy Maker. That was
it. He wouldn’t be leaving much behind.
But he still couldn’t do it. He couldn’t risk exposing
the secret of Santa. Such an act would risk destroying the very magic of
Christmas and the last home of the elves. The magic of Santa and the elves comes
from the faith of children like you, and me, who believe in them. Christmas is,
after all, about faith; faith that Santa is real, faith that the elves will be
able to make the toy you asked for, and above all faith in the baby whose birth
is celebrated on this most holy day. But faith requires choice. You have to
choose to believe. If an elf just walked into your living room, there would be
no more faith, and therefore no more Christmas magic, and without Christmas
magic there would be no more happiness! He could not risk the end to all the happiness
of Christmas. But what about Nadia’s happiness? What about his own? Would the
happiness of one little girl really threaten the happiness of the entire world?
Alpert didn’t know, but he knew Santa would never risk that.
So, was there really no other option? Alpert thought and
thought…and thought some more. He looked at the page, saw “teddy bear” and saw
“me,” then he looked back at “teddy bear” and then back at “me.”
“What am I supposed to do?” he asked, looking at his
reflection in his window. And then suddenly he knew what he had to do.
It was neither early nor overly late in the evening when
he came to his decision. He was not sure if Santa would be up or not, but he
could not wait until the next day; time was running out. There were only a few
days left before Christmas Eve, if his idea was going to work, he needed to get
things ready now. He looked at his reflection in the window one last time and
asked, “Are you sure about this?” But he knew he was.
“Alpert, this is not the solution I expected you to come
up with,” Santa said, when Alpert was seated once again in Santa’s study. “Are
you sure about this?”
“I am, Santa,” Alpert said.
“Well, I can’t say I am surprised,” Santa said, tugging
thoughtfully at his beard. “But Alpert, you are making a real sacrifice.”
They talked about it for some time, but in the end, Alpert
convinced Santa that this was not only the right decision; it was what Alpert
wanted as well.
That Christmas morning, little Nadia Young rushed down
the stairs, dragging a bleary-eyed Daddy by the hand, to see what Santa had
brought. Mommy had gone down first with Nadia’s baby brother to turn on the
lights. The glowing Christmas tree was surrounded by at least a dozen
beautifully wrapped treasures; there was something for everyone in the family
and several somethings for the family as a whole. In front of all of the
presents, thought, were the stockings and two special presents, bigger than all
the rest, one for little Jonny, and one for Nadia.
Nadia ran to the box that was almost half as tall as she
was, and tore open the wrapping paper, wondering how what she had asked for
could possibly be in this box, if Santa had brought it. Once she had the paper
torn away from the lid, she opened the box, and saw sitting inside a stuffed
elf. She took the little elf out of the box and sat him on the floor in front
of her. The elf was soft and beautifully crafted. He had brown hair, the same
color as hers, beneath a bright, red postal worker’s hat. He had a round face
with large blue eyes beneath large, bushy eyebrows, and a pleasant, shy smile.
He wore a long-sleeved green shirt with stripped green pants and pointed red
shoes. Over the green shirt he wore a red vest. On the pocket of the vest was a
name tag that said “Mail Room” and beneath that “Alpert.” Attached to the
stuffed elf’s shirt was a note. Nadia sat cross-legged in front of the little
elf and read the letter.
Dear
Nadia,
Merry Christmas. This little elf is
named Alpert, and he was the loneliest elf in the North Pole. Alpert needed a
friend, and so I have brought him to you. Like all elves, Alpert has very long
ears; he can hear very well. He will hear everything you have to tell him, even
the most softly whispered secret. His little hands are open, waiting to be
held. If you squeeze them, they will squeeze back. He is very ticklish; if you poke
him in the tummy he will giggle. Alpert has a big heart, and loves to be
hugged. When you hug him close, he will whisper in your ear. Keep Alpert close,
and he will always be your friend.
Love,
Santa
Nadia smiled and picked up the toy elf, sitting him in
her lap. “Hello, Alpert,” she said. The stuffed elf looked at her, a shy smile
stitched on his kind face. Nadia poked a finger in the toy’s soft belly, and it
actually made a giggling sound! Nadia laughed with glee, and hugged the elf
tight. As she did so the little stuffed elf whispered in her ear, “I love you.”
“I love you, too!” Nadia said, hugging the elf even
tighter.
“Do you like him?” Mommy asked, admiring the
craftsmanship of the little stuffed toy.
“I love him,” Nadia said. “He’s the best friend I could
ever ask for.”
Nadia received other gifts that Christmas, but none that
she loved more than Alpert the Loneliest Elf. She kept him close to her all the
day long, and sat him next to her pillow that night when she went to bed and
every night after that. From that day on, neither Nadia nor Alpert was ever alone
again.
When
the time finally came, many years later, that Nadia no longer needed Alpert, he
was placed in a box, wrapped, and placed beneath another Christmas tree. That
year the box was opened and another child, Nadia’s son, lifted the stuffed toy
elf out of the box and read the letter attached to the collar of his green
shirt, “Merry Christmas. This little elf is named Alpert, and he was the
loneliest elf in the North Pole…”
