You're the Star Atop My Christmas Tree, Charlie Boone! - 6. Part 6

Ronja was a wonderful hostess as well, and set a fine table. They met in another great room, down a long dining table that immediately made Charlie think of Oliver Twist, though the setting here was much nicer than a poor house for children. The tablecloth was white, the dinnerware was blue, and the glasses all cut crystal in the finest of traditions. There were candelabras along the walls in which candles burned but never seemed to shorten, and a chandelier above the center of the table that Charlie was certain ran on gas of some type, by the merry but distinctly un-electric radiance it provided.

Yet none of it seemed out of place here. That the rooms all seemed imported from another time gave the place a lot of charm, and Charlie was certain that what they were seeing was a mix of the old world which Nicholaas had inhabited for so long now, and the somewhat more modern, yet still refined values that Ronja had brought along with her. There was no shortage of tasteful elegance, certainly.

Max and Frit and Pip returned to join them for the meal, and the soft strains of something classical yet Christmassy played in the background. Charlie was certain that it wasn't a recording, because the orchestra involved took periodic pauses during which the conversations of many people could be heard in the background. Heard, but not understood.

"Oh, it's live," Nicholaas said, when Charlie mentioned it. "Or, it once was. You're hearing the Christmas dinner celebration of the Duke Armand DeCord, from 1741. King Christian himself was in attendance that evening, as I recall."

Charlie and Kippy stared at each other. "Where was that?" Kippy asked.

"Copenhagen. I particularly enjoyed the music that evening, and like to hear it again every so often."

"But it's not a recording?" Charlie asked.

"No, Charlie. I simply open a window - an audio one - back to that evening, whenever I wish to hear the performance again."

"It's just time," Max reminded. "The boss is good with that stuff, remember?"

Charlie nodded, wondering what it would be like to carry the past of the entire world around with him.

"Would you like to hear something different?" Nicholaas asked.

"No." Charlie smiled. "I like this. I was just curious."

Nicholaas laughed. "One of the things I like about you, as you know."

The meal was the most unusual Christmas dinner that Charlie had ever had. There was something called Fondue Chinoise, comprised of thinly sliced beef cooked in bouillon. And Schinkli, a smoked ham with potato salad. Bread pudding with gingerbread men; and big, fat rolls that appeared to have been baked around a stick of cheese; a roasted flour soup topped with grated Gruyere cheese that was heaven on the tongue; and mangoes and passion fruit for dessert.

"It is a bit of home for me," Ronja told them cheerfully. "Dishes from my homeland. I know you will have a more traditional American Christmas dinner at home later, so I thought you might like something different here."

"It's wonderful!" Kippy managed, already on his second bowl of soup.

"It is amazingly good," Charlie agreed. "You're quite a cook, Ronja."

The woman laughed. "I wish I could take credit for it. But, alas, I simply supplied the recipes. All of this was cooked up by some of the workshop women."

"Be sure to thank them for us," Adrian said.

"Yes," Uncle Bob added, nodding. "I can't say when I have had a more unusual and tasty meal!"

Max looked happy at that. "The missus helped with this stuff. She'll be pleased that you guys liked it."

Ricky nodded. "If I ate like this all the time, I'd have trouble keeping my weight down."

Max patted his own belly. "I know what ya mean. It's a war, ain't it?"

Charlie laughed at that, as Max was as fit as Frit and Pip were, at 598 years his junior.

They talked on, and laughed, and told stories, and heard some pretty amazing ones themselves. Charlie had been thinking that he and the guys were actually becoming fairly worldly, what with their journeys in space and time; but the stories that both Nicholaas and Max could tell reminded him that he and his friends were just starting out in life. There was no shame in that, he knew. Both of the older men had simply lived such long and rich lives to this point that Charlie felt there could be no comparison to their own few trips out and around. Nothing told like experience!

But we'll get there, someday, he told himself.

They ate too much, and soon sat back in their chairs, completely satisfied. Max and the two teen elves excused themselves, saying they had a few things to do, but that they would be back shortly. Charlie lost track of the time, but it did seem like at least an hour had passed before Max returned.

He entered the room and went right to Nicholaas. "We're ready, boss."

Nicholaas smiled, and turned to his guests. "Shall we go? If you wish to see some of our presents being delivered, that is."

Adrian and Kippy both jumped to their feet. "Yes!"

They gathered into a group and were whisked to another room, this one simply gargantuan in proportions, and piled high with gift-wrapped packages of every size and shape. It looked almost laughably disorderly, yet there did seem to be some sort of pattern to it all. Still, it looked much more like the room had simply been stuffed with the stolen gifts from a few million million living rooms than it did a launching point for dispersing them.

"It's all in order, believe me," Max said, grinning. He looked around the room proudly. "There's just shy of sixty million gifts in here."

Charlie just stared. "And you know where each one is going?"

Max laughed. "Who, me? Not on your life, Charlie. But he does." The elf pointed at Nicholaas, who smiled.

"Oh, I can't tell you where or to whom each gift is going just by looking," the man said. "Each of these wrapped objects constitutes a spacial coordinate in a long equation - the delivery line, I call it - and when I set it into motion, every gift will be transported to another spacial coordinate, that falls somewhere within reach of the recipient." He smiled. "Under a tree, most of the time."

"But you must have known who wanted what at some point, or you couldn't do the math," Uncle Bob pointed out.

"Oh, I do.Or did." Nicholaas pointed at the towering piles of gifts. "But a skateboard and a PlayStation look much the same all wrapped up, and from this distance. But believe me, each gift will get where it is supposed to go."

Kippy simply shook his head. "I'm amazed the ones on the bottom of those huge piles don't get crushed!"

Max gave them a toothy grin. "Oh, they're not actually touching each other. It just looks that way from here."

Ricky stared around the room, and shook his head. "Sixty million sounds like a lot of presents, but not in a world of seven billion people."

Max sighed. "There's fifty other rooms, just like this one. Each room has about as many gifts. And they're all included in the delivery line equation."

Charlie whistled, impressed. "Three billion presents! Not quite half the people on the planet."

"Don't forget the ones that were delivered by your own people," Max reminded. "Your own delivery companies. That was another few hundred million there."

"Wow! So about half the people on the planet got something, then. Or will, I should say."

"Right." Max shrugged. "I already said that a lot of people don't participate in Christmas, or even think about asking for a gift. A few of those get them anyway. But there is still about half the planet that doesn't." He smiled then. "But the number of participants in Christmas is growing each year, though, so we are making some headway."

"So what happens next?" Kippy asked.

Nicholaas took a deep breath, and let it sigh out slowly. "The big moment. Everyone ready?"

They agreed that they were, and Kippy moved to Charlie's side and snuggled against him so that they could share the moment. Charlie put his arm around his boyfriend and kissed his cheek, and Kippy sighed happily. "Love you, Charlie."

"Love you right back, Kip."

Nicholaas closed his eyes, and smiled.

There was a sudden commotion among the stacked gifts, a sparkle of light, and then the wrapped presents began to disappear, first one, then another, and then in wholesale lots. Each disappearance was accompanied by a brief sparkle of multi-colored light, which soon became a virtual rainbow of color cascading about the room. There was also a miniscule pop! with each transference, and soon the room was bursting with sound, light, and color.

Charlie started laughing, unable to believe the wonder of it all. Kippy snuggled against him, also laughing in delight, and when Charlie turned to look, he saw that all the others were grinning and laughing, too. It was like nothing any of them had ever witnessed, almost like watching a city full of skyscrapers vanishing, one board room, one apartment at a time. Uncle Bob had his arms raised, just savoring the magic of the moment, a huge smile on his face, as the biggest disappearing act in history unfolded before him.

Despite the volume of the sound, it never became too loud, or annoying. Charlie turned to Kippy and hugged him, and kissed him, as the towers of gifts slowly disappeared around them. He saw Max smiling at him over Kip's shoulder, and smiled back. Adrian and Rick moved closer, grinning at them, and the four of them stood together and watched the show.

Charlie lost track of time. Sixty million is a big number, and Charlie was faintly aware that if only one package vanished each second, they would still be standing there in two year's time. So the volume of transfer had to be much higher than that, as the room had visibly cleared by now, perhaps as much as by half. And the rate of disappearance seemed to be accelerating, if the lights and sounds were any indicator.

Nicholaas simply stood there throughout, his eyes closed, a beautiful smile on his face. Charlie considered that, and had to smile himself. For Nicholaas this was not just magic, it was giving. Sixty million gifts, in fact; and so many more, if this same process was happening in each of the fifty rooms that Max had mentioned. Three billion gifts, materializing under trees, in stockings, in traditional shoes or baskets, or any of the myriad places that people placed the things they wished another to have at Christmas.

And of all those gifts, not one would garner thanks to the man who had actually gifted them, instead being attributed to moms and dads, aunts and uncles, grandparents and kids, and friends and family everywhere. No one would know the reality. No one would care one bit.

Except Nicholaas.

Charlie sighed, and kissed Kip again, just because he needed to share love with someone in that moment. Kippy nodded, perhaps their telepathic link working a little harder than usual, and kissed him back. And then they watched, as the towers of gifts grew smaller, the canyons and valleys between them larger, and the sounds of their passing dwindled from a soft roar to a last and pleasant chuckle.

And then it was done. A small pile of presents, far off on the other side of the room, was the last to go. It winked away, and then silence descended upon them. Nicholaas took a deep breath, sighed, and opened his eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Nicholaas," Kippy said. "You deserve to be told that more than anyone else right now."

The man smiled. "Ah. That's a good feeling, to have that done. Thank you for the kindness, Kip."

Charlie looked over at Max. "Are they all gone? Fifty roomfuls?"

"Yep. All gone. All delivered, just where they belong."

"Except for a very few," Nicholaas said.

Max nodded. "Except for a very few."

Kippy looked from man to elf, and then back again. "They're not all sent?"

Nicholaas shook his head. "Every now and then, there are a few gifts that deserve that special touch."

"That old-fashioned touch," Max said, nodding.

Nicholaas came forward to stand by them. "Sometimes, we feel that some few people deserve a real visit from Saint Nick." He laughed. "By sleigh."

Kip's jaw dropped. "By sleigh! You mean you actually go and land on the roofs, and go down the chimneys, and all that?"

Nicholaas laughed again. "I have never been down a chimney in my entire life. But we do make our visit by sleigh, yes." He leaned forward. "Would you all like to make the trip with us?"

Kippy looked at Charlie. "Would we?"

Charlie laughed. "Do you really have to ask?"

Kippy grinned. "No. I was just being polite."

Everyone was asked the same question, and no one said no.

Santa was about to make his rounds, albeit much abbreviated ones, and they had been asked to go long.

And going along they were!