You're the Star Atop My Christmas Tree, Charlie Boone! - 5. Part 5

"Awesome," Charlie said, looking about the big room. "You live here?"

"This is called the 'greeting room'," Ronja said, smiling. "But actually, it's reserved for special guests, as Nicholaas and I spend much time here ourselves. I know it's big, but we've tried to keep it down to earth."

The room itself was grand, but the furnishings were tasteful, and even a little homey. They sat about the polished hardwood floor before a grand hearth, big enough to park a car inside, which held the boles of a couple of fair-sized trees burning on the grate. The chimney face and the mantel were of natural stone, smoothed and polished and mortared together by a talented hand. The furniture that sat before it was upholstered in Christmas green, red, and gold, but a far more subtle use of those colors than the furniture down in the entry hall, and resulting in a look which was even more pleasing to the eye. A feminine touch, Charlie decided, smiling to himself.

Again there was a Christmas tree, tall and ornate, and somehow old-fashioned looking, and comforting in its cheerfulness. It stood to one side of the hearth, its ornamentation aglow and atwinkle in the light from the fire. Charlie squinted briefly at the oversize balls hanging from the branches, but saw no pictures on any of these.

The end tables, cabinets, and the huge coffee table were all of a dark brown wood, and looked handmade, and not by an amateur, either. There were bookcases full of books, and small things atop the cabinets and tables that had the look of personal effects - things that actually meant something to someone, rather than just there for decoration. Another of the great windows like the one downstairs occupied the back wall, only this one was looking down a brightly lit town street, one draped and crisscrossed with colored lights, which was full of people walking together, and was simply as cheerful as could be.

The effect of the room was that of a polished, very comfortable lodge, perhaps high in a mountain village somewhere, with a view of the small town beyond that was both charming and...and familiar.

Charlie stared at the scene beyond the window, and then laughed delightedly. "Is that Twombly?"

Kippy gasped and put his hands together, and also laughed. "It is!"

They crowded before the window, looking every which way. "There's the town hall!" Uncle Bob said, grinning.

"And the post office, and the library!" Kippy added, pointing.

Adrian laughed. "And Miss Cubely's dress shop!"

"It's great to see the town again," Charlie put forth, sighing. "What a wonderful place."

"And wonderful people," Kippy finished.

"It's a real-time view, too," Nicholaas said, smiling. "We wanted them with us for the holidays."

Kippy sighed. "That's so sweet of you."

They stood and watched the faraway elves as they moved about their business, waving to each other, and calling, 'Merry Christmas!' They couldn't hear them, but it was easy to see their lips move, easy to tell what they were saying. That these were all happy people was just so obvious that all Charlie could do was smile, even while feeling a pang that felt like homesickness to his heart. He would love to revisit Twombly, to see Kiley and Kiri and their father, and all the elves that lived there again.

It was almost overwhelming, almost too much, and Charlie backed away from the window and wandered over to the bookcases, trying to focus instead on what was there. They would revisit Twombly, that was certain. But on top of all they had already seen and experienced here, missing Twombly and its people was more than Charlie could manage in his mind all at one time.

The bookcases were tall and wide, and filled to capacity. Many of the volumes were leather bound, with no titles showing in the spine, though most were well-labeled as to their content. He scanned the rows, and was surprised to see that he recognized many of the titles, but that there were also a great many that he did not. The editions represented here ranged from the modern to the very ancient, and the ones that were old, he decided, were very old. There was literature from all over the world, and Charlie began to suspect that these were the original printings of the books. Nicholaas was immune to time, and he had lived his life through much of the common era. That his interests were represented here in books demonstrated a love and respect for the thoughts and ideas of others, and a desire to keep them at hand forever.

The man came over and stood next to Charlie. "I am not at all surprised to find you here, Charlie. You and I share a common interest in knowledge, and the tomes that keep it dear."

"Yes. I know some of these, but not others."

"Some are lost in your world; or at the least, forgotten. But most can be found in libraries even in your own land, though some have not been touched in a very long time." Nicholaas sighed. "In many cases they have been dated by the passage of time, and the wisdom they contain seems to no longer apply. But I recall each one when it was fresh and new, and the ideas exciting; or at the least, apt for the times."

Charlie waved a hand around at the decor of the room, and smiled. "I see a tendency towards the pastoral here."

Nicholaas also looked about, and laughed. "My origins are humble ones, Charlie. I tend to keep to that in my heart, even if I also have a need for space. You will find no small rooms in this place, but neither will you find a single one outfitted as if a lord were in residence. I like natural, and I like comfortable. And yes, I do love the pastoral."

Charlie nodded at the filled shelves in the large bookcases. "You've read all of these?"

"Every single one. Some, many times." Nicholaas sighed, and closed his eyes. "'And this our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.'"

Charlie nodded. "Shakespeare, I think. As You Like It?"

"Wonderful, Charlie!" Nicholaas exclaimed, opening his eyes and clapping the boy on the shoulder. "You are always so much more than I expect in one so young."

Charlie grinned. "Well, I try. Having a love of reading helps."

"Having a questing mind is at the bottom of it, though. You have the gift of curiosity, Charlie, and the need to know things, and to experience things." Nicholaas looked over at where Kippy and the others were still gazing at Twombly and talking with Ronja. "All of you have this gift, but in you it is most strong, shining like a light in the dark of night." Nicholaas leaned closer then, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Would you like to hear one of my favorite quotes? I wonder if you can identify it?"

Charlie smiled, feeling a sudden thrill at the challenge. "I'll try."

Nicholaas sighed softly, and his eyes narrowed to slits, as if looking deeply inward: "'Nature that framed us of four elements, warring within our breasts for regiment, doth teach us all to have aspiring minds: Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend the wondrous architecture of the world, and measure every wandering planet's course, still climbing after knowledge infinite, and always moving as the restless spheres, wills us to wear ourselves, and never rest, until we reach the ripest fruit of all, that perfect bliss and sole felicity, the sweet fruition of an earthly crown.'"

Charlie closed his eyes, the passage familiar. "It has the ring of Shakespeare, too," he said. But then he opened his eyes and smiled at Nicholaas. "But it's not. Christopher Marlowe, right?"

Nicholaas looked as pleased as Charlie had ever seen him. "Yes. From his Tamburlaine the Great." He dropped a hand on Charlie's shoulder and gave him a fond squeeze. "You and your friends put confidence in the world back into me, Charlie. Because I know that, for each one of you, there must be many other young people out there that have not lost touch with the world, nor the people it holds, nor the history it has learned."

Charlie was astonished at the praise, and felt his cheeks grow warm. "We just do the best that we can."

"I know that. It is as much what was born within you that I find so appealing, as it is what you have done with it. One cannot build lighthouses without bricks, Charlie."

Kippy turned from the window and came over to join them. "In all the excitement, I forgot about our new friend. Where'd he get to?"

Nicholaas laughed, gave Charlie a last pleased look, and then took each boy by an arm and led them around the Christmas tree. The foobear was sprawled on a rug there, looking blissfully happy in the warmth from the fire. "He is here, soaking up the local color."

Charlie and Kippy both stared, wide-eyed, for the creature laying there had indeed changed color! Its yellow pelt had deepened in color to a warm, honey gold, and the dark bands had turned from brown to a deep red. But what was most startling was that the black mane had developed dark red tips, looking like a ring of fire about the creature's neck.

"Oh!" Kippy breathed. "It's beautiful!"

"He," Nicholaas corrected. "Our friend is a he."

Kippy grinned. "Naturally!"

Charlie laughed at that, but shook his head. "What's happening to, um, him?"

Nicholaas smiled at his new guest. "He has become more real, Charlie. What you all originally saw was what you imagined he might be like, a group impression of a sort, employing bits from all your imaginations. He has become that, and more. And now he is developing his own unique traits, expressing his own individuality. He has become alive, and himself now."

Kippy looked amazed. "And we didn't even know we were doing that!"

Nicholaas nodded. "It is part of who you are - all of you - that you look for the best in everything. It was unconscious on your part, yet you took your combined mental image of what you thought a foobear would be - and you simply made one." The man laughed. "With his own help, of course. His own magic. Or mine, perhaps. It's all the same. Once again I am in your debt, it seems."

Charlie shook his head. "No. We're happy it turned out this way, but we didn't even know we were doing anything." He smiled. "It's this magical place that you created that is responsible for it."

"Thank you. But I know better, Charlie." Nicholaas indicated the big cat at his feet. "And so does he."

The cat - for Charlie felt certain that the foobear was actually some sort of feline, despite the extra bear-like features in its face - opened its yellow eyes and looked up happily at them. "Mrowf."

Kippy grinned at Charlie. "He spoke."

"Sounded more like a groan of happiness," Charlie said, smiling.

"It is both, I think," Nicholaas said. He smiled. "I know you are fond of him, but he needs to stay here with me. He is far too over brimming with magic to be allowed loose in your world."

Charlie laughed in amazement. "Believe me, I had no intention to take him home."

Nicholaas looked pointedly at Kippy, who shrugged. "Okay, I won't take him home. It was just a thought."

Ricky, Adrian, and Uncle Bob came around the tree in the wake of Ronja then, surely to see where the others had gotten off to, and again there were amazed stares, and again Nicholaas had to explain what had happened with the foobear.

"Then we can't call it a foobear anymore," Adrian said, shaking his head. "What is he?"

Nicholaas looked thoughtful, and then smiled. "He is the cat of all cats, of course."

Kippy looked delighted. "Well, of course!"

Nicholaas laughed. "I'm perfectly serious, I assure you. This fellow is of that breed, but only physically, as that soul which dwells within the body is much more like you or me than any true feline could ever be."

"So he's a smart cat," Ricky said, matter-of-factly.

Nicholaas looked pleased. "True."

"And he's a unique cat," Adrian added, laughing.

"Also true."

"And he's quite the magical cat, also, isn't he?" Uncle Bob put in, smiling.

"Most definitely true," Nicholaas agreed, nodding. "But fortunately for us, he has benefited in disposition from your expectations of him, and we need not fear his magic getting away from him, nor being used for ill purposes."

"Our expectations of him?" Ricky asked.

"Of course. Our friend here was very much the ball of loose magic that the elves first saw him as when he materialized here. We'll call his appearance a spillover from something I was working on earlier, and was apparently a little too careless with in creation." Nicholaas cleared his throat noisily, and grinned. "But that's a story for another time." He pointed at the foobear. "What happened next was that some gifted people saw potential in him, and very much forged that ball of energy into something more. And, once forged, that creation had the power on its own to finalize the journey into life, and has become what you see here now."

Nicholaas smiled at them. "Those talented people were you. All of you. You have helped to create this fellow, and he knows it. You will ever be close to his heart hereafter."

"We made this...this person?" Uncle Bob asked incredulously. "How can that be? I know that I, at least, don't have a magical bone in my body."

Nicholaas laughed. "Don't you? Magic is a term with dimension, Bob. It's meanings are many, even among your own kind. But that each of you is magical in nature I have known for quite some time now."

Kippy frowned. "I have some skwish. So does Adrian, I think."

"Yes. That's an elf term for many things, actually, that have a less concrete meaning in the elf world. It's like saying in the human world that an artist is creative. It's a catchall phrase to cover less easily named talents that combine to produce a unique overall quality. One that allows someone to be a painter, or a sculptor, or a poet, for instance. And among the artists of that community, the qualities of their talents range from the small to the extreme. So it is with skwish, and other magics."

Nicholaas smiled. "All of you have skwish, but how it manifests in each of you is different. Kip and Adrian are the closest in execution; or, should I say, that some of their apparent abilities are similar in nature. Yet even these two have very different talents that are not so noticeable. At least, not yet."

"I've never felt any skwish," Ricky protested. "I'm just a normal guy."

Charlie shook his head. "It sounds like you're warning us to look out for more to come."

Nicholaas looked surprised, and then laughed. "Not at all. I am not warning you. I am preparing you. There is a considerable difference."

"You mean we'll all get stronger?" Kippy asked.

"Yes. You see, humans and elves are not as different as you have imagined. The one tremendous difference between living in the elf world and the human world is that elves are exposed to magic around the clock, every day of the year, for their entire lives. Their natural talents are therefore expressed from birth. Humans, on the other hand, have no such igniter for their magical abilities. It takes a rare association with persons of magic to start the ball rolling. But, once in motion, it just keeps going. And growing."

Charlie cleared his throat. "I never asked you how you became a human that does magic."

Nicholaas nodded. "Good thing, because I don't really know how I came to be what I am."

"You don't know at all?"

"Not a clue."

"But you're a human, and not an elf." It was a statement, not a question.

"I'm as human as you. I didn't even become aware of the elf world until I stumbled into it one day while trying to do something completely different. And I was already quite magical by that time."

The idea that Nicholaas had ever fumbled his way through the dark was new thinking for Charlie. He was used to the guy being so proficient at everything! Pretty much like a certain elf Charlie knew!

Charlie looked around then, suddenly aware that Max was not with them. Nor Frit and Pip! "Huh? I thought we all came up from the cellar together? Where's Max and the kids?"

"Max and the two boys had errands to run. They'll be along." Nicholaas smiled, and Charlie got the distinct impression that the man was chuckling inside, as if he knew a secret that Charlie didn't. He had an urge to explore that...but didn't. If something was up, best to wait and see it come on its own.

He turned back to look at the big cat, which was lazily, and definitely fondly, looking back at him. "Should we give him a name? Or does he have one?"

Nicholaas also looked at their new arrival. "Have you a name, my friend?"

The cat's tail flicked back and forth contentedly, but it made no sound.

"That means we can give him one, right?" Kippy said, excitedly. "How about 'Kitty'?"

Nicholaas did laugh out loud then. "Rather generic, isn't it?"

"But it does fit," Adrian said. "More or less."

"He looks more like a hellcat to me," Ricky decided, grinning.

Adrian gasped. "We can't call him that!"

"Well, I didn't mean to call him by that name. I just mean that he needs something bigger than just 'kitty'."

"What about something to do with magic?" Charlie asked. "After all, he is magical."

"How about 'Voodoo'?" Ricky asked, grinning a little evilly.

"That's too dark," Adrian complained. "He seems like such a sweetie."

"I have a suggestion," Uncle Bob said. "How about 'Auggie'?" The boys turned to look at him, and the man smiled. "A variation on 'augury', which means a sign of something to come."

"An omen," Charlie said. "In this case, a good one. I like it."

"I think I do, too," Nicholaas said. He turned to the cat, and smiled. "What do you think, my friend?"

The cat flicked a paw at them, and grunted out what sounded like, "Oogie."

Nicholaas laughed. "I think he likes it."

The man that was Santa then turned to the other new addition to his life, and smiled at her. "You've been very quiet throughout all of this, my dear."

Ronja sighed, and made her way to Nicholaas. "Listening is also an art. To listen is to learn."

"Yes." Nicholaas drew her closer, and briefly kissed her. "And what have you learned?" he whispered.

She smiled, rubbing her nose against his. "That you made a wise decision in asking me to come here." She followed that with a small laugh, her eyes bright. "And that I made the wisest decision of all, in coming."