given it much thought. Christmas had been the subject of little contemplation for him over the years. “Essentially it’s about the values and meaning it all embodies, the giving, the joy, and how all of this translates into what we do,” the elf explained.
“How long am I supposed to be here?” Screwge enquired, purely out of curiosity. He had no real reason to entertain thoughts of leaving.
“That, my dear fellow, is entirely up to you,” was his answer. Screwge still seemed slightly restrained, the elf sensing this. Screwge’s normal, well-established psychology and character had not been completely overcome. “On your journey here, did you at any point wish to be returned home?”
“Well, no,” replied Screwge. “I was so caught up in what was happening and so taken by surprise, so astounded by the entire experience, that the thought of going home never occurred to me. I was just so overwhelmed.”
“So there hasn’t been anything too disagreeable about the experience then,” remarked the elf, as if encouraging him to recognise how enjoyable this all was.
“Well, no, I suppose not,” Screwge agreed, realising how at-ease he was now, though somewhere in the back of his mind was a lingering trace of discomfort at having to accept this.
The whole atmosphere of this place had a vibrancy that seemed to fill everyone and consume everything. A log fire glowed intensely, the large Yule log crackling and snapping away while the Christmas tree was bathed in a warming glow by the soft radiance of its own lights. It all created a powerful, uplifting and inspiring effect. There was an abundance of cheer, happiness and merriment in the air. Screwge, though it was quite contrary to his nature, found himself still feeling rather joyous and exuberant, despite efforts to question this in himself. There was an abundance of food, mainly cakes and sweet things. There seemed to be mince pies everywhere, stacked lavishly on trays. Chestnuts were roasting on the crackling fire. It was a classic Christmas experience, just as the picture-postcard scenes outside were all characteristic, classic images of Christmas.
“I must say, there’s definitely something very special to all of this,” remarked Screwge. “Much as I thought I should feel reluctant to acknowledge it, this is simply and undeniably a wonderful, perfect celebration of Christmas. It really is everything it should be. There’s even the exquisite scent of roast turkey wafting around the kitchen,” he said gleefully, simply unable to retain any vestige of his dismissive and joyless attitude any longer. “You simply couldn’t have it more ideal than this,” he enthused.
“So what do you think about Christmas now then?” he was asked by the elf.
“I’ll have to admit there’s unquestionably something quite marvellous about it all if you can make it like it is here.” Screwge had been forced to confront the reality of what Christmas was truly about, though it felt somewhat strange and foreign to him to be feeling like this. “I never felt any inspiration to make anything of it before, let alone understand that it could or should be approached like this.” He paused. “But what about all the people who aren’t able to enjoy it?” he then asked, thoughtfully.
“Terribly sad and unfortunate,” the elf responded. “All we can do is promote the spirit of Christmas as best we can and try to bring that sense of joy and the feeling of Christmas to as many people as possible. Everyone, to some degree, can potentially feel the delight and excitement this time of year brings if they really want to. It’s always there, just waiting to be embraced. Just look at yourself now. Previously you rejected the Christmas spirit, but being here has allowed you to appreciate it properly and fully.”
“And I can go back and spread this knowledge to others,” Screwge had come to realise, knowing he was to return home and endeavour to make people more appreciative of the true joy and meaning of Christmas. “Not that they won’t be astonished at seeing me so enthusiastic about Christmas,” he added, aware of how his new, entirely reformed attitude and demeanour were going to seem to his neighbours and those who knew him.
“Which is precisely why it will have such impact. For you to be exhibiting such elation and radiance at Christmas, and spreading its joyful message of peace and happiness and generosity will give it that much more potency. People will be prompted to think that there must really be something to it for you to be so cheerful and merry about it.”
By this point, they had made their way into the kitchen, Screwge attracted by the incredible, enticing aromas; full, powerful, concentrated, distinctive scents, so intense he could virtually taste them.
“You know, where I come from, I’ve noticed that Christmas is becoming subject to fashion trends. If people decide that certain elements of it are no longer fashionable, such as the Christmas tree, which some think is becoming outdated, where’s that going to lead?” Screwge asked, raising the subject of future developments in the ways Christmas is observed.
“The true meaning of Christmas must be preserved. It can be represented and celebrated through whatever practices people choose. Traditions evolve; people come up with new ideas and new ways of thinking. Things change, but we won’t let valued customs fade or be easily forgotten. Those concerned with fashion and artistic expression can do what they want to do, but nothing can affect the core meaning of Christmas. It may become quite lost or obscured in many cases, and a lot of things might well distract us from it, but nothing can really diminish it; it will always be there,” the elf informed him. “Come, have a look around. Meet some of the others,” Screwge was then invited, in a very hearty and exuberant manner.
Mingling with the other elves and the people who were there, he found himself
being treated exceedingly well, as were all of the guests, as though they were each known personally. Telling people all about himself had the effect of reflecting just what sort of character he had actually been, causing him to realise all the more profoundly just how miserable, disagreeable and uncharitable he had been at Christmas, and just how much his attitude and his feelings had altered. Everyone was in high spirits. The elves were invariably very amiable and hospitable. After all, it was they who organised it for him to be brought here.
He remained there for quite some time, drinking eggnog and brandy, and being offered more and more mince pies. Exquisite chocolates were in generous supply and they insisted he indulge. They turned out to be the most superb, delectable sweets he had ever tasted in his life. The provision of delicious food seemed never-ending. Strangely, however, no matter how much he consumed he never felt full or that he was mixing too many different, contrasting flavours and ruining his palate, preventing himself from properly appreciating and enjoying individual tastes and flavours. It never even felt like he was overindulging. Instead, he enjoyed every scrumptious mouthful, no matter how numerous they were becoming. He found himself conversing with others who had also been brought here like he had, others who had lost their sense of what Christmas is really all about, having either dismissed it outright or become overly concerned with its purely material aspects.
Accepting an invitation to tour where the elves carry out much of their secret work, and observe some of the very covert projects to which their time is devoted, Screwge was conducted to what appeared to be the top of a large slide. With a mild sense of apprehensiveness he sat down in accordance with the directions he was being given, and following a rather exhilarating ride, found himself in what turned out to be a massive subterranean complex. It was interesting, he thought, that with all of their sophisticated technology they would be using something as primitive as a slide to gain access to their underground facilities. Clearly these elves had a great sense of fun.
From the bottom of the slide, he was escorted firstly to a large room in which he counted four drawing boards along with several desks and a number of laptop computers.
“This is where we carry out the design work for the various projects we like to undertake. We develop new propulsion systems for the sleighs, new snowmobiles, new designs for snow-sleds; things like that,” his guide in
formed him.
These elves patently had an enormous wealth of technological and scientific knowledge and resources at their disposal. From here he was led through into a much larger room, which appeared to be a laboratory. There were more computers, microscopes, test tubes and all manner of equipment and machinery.
“This is where all our research is conducted,” the elf told him, though it was clear that Screwge would have very little hope of properly understanding the functions of any of the apparatus he was looking at.
Any explanation would almost assuredly be quite beyond his comprehension.
Next he was ushered through into a yet larger room, the elf informing him that this is where they build their prototype systems and carry out testing. Here, there were several impressive-looking vehicles and what he could only suppose were engines of some description.
“This is the prototype for our most advanced propulsion system yet,” revealed the elf, noticing Screwge subjecting one particular item to some scrutiny, obviously fascinated though quite mystified by it.
Adjoining this room was a sizeable production facility, producing everything they had put into development. Finally he found himself accompanying his elf