Hi, everyone. If you've found this story, it means you're a committed reader since you had to search around a bit for it. Lily Lindsey-Aubrey forgot to tell you where to go in the last story. Have no fear; we will punish her sufficiently for her neglect.
Anyway, if you haven't read the first story in this series, you can find it (The Iron Hills Mall) on Lily Lindsey-Aubrey's profile page. We are past the halfway point, so that means that all the things that got lost in the first six stories should be showing up.
Hope everyone's Christmas season is going well so far and everyone either has plans to watch or has already watched Hobbit 3. (I, lamentably, fall into the first category.)
Here's Lily Lindsey-Aubrey's replies to reviews for the last story:
Melkor'sOnlyLieutenant: Haha, your review made me laugh. I agree with you about Elizabeth; I don't like her much, either. But I can't feel very sorry for Jack.
Thalion Estel: Thank you so much! Will needs to go to school. ;) And you're very welcome. I love writing these.
OneSizeFitsAll: No it's not. He deserves it. :P
ThurinRanger: Merry Christmas to you, too! I love getting your reviews. Thank you so much. Will's part, I have to say, was the most fun to write. XD
2MFriedmanFreak: I was originally going to make them get to the South Pole, but I changed my mind.
Jesper Arratay: XD I kind of cheated... We're supposed to put something in each story that has to do with a verse of the song. Will's entry is very popular. :) Thanks for reviewing!
A huge thankyou to everyone for reading, reviewing, and enjoying!
Disclaimer 1: Just so everyone's clear on this, I do like the Pevensies (with the possible exception of Susan). How ever I may have represented them was purely for the sake of the story, not private dislike.
Disclaimer 2: I don't own the rights to the books or movies or any other rights.
Hopefully everyone has seen Narnia, but in case not:
Peter - oldest of the four Pevensie children
Susan - second oldest
Edmond - (referenced only) third oldest; at the time of this story he is with the White Witch, whose forces he has joined
Lucy - youngest Pevensie
Mr. and Mrs. Beaver - two kind beavers (rather obviously) who are helping the children escape the witch
Father Christmas - he visits Narnia too, apparently
Gift Receipts Required
The three Pevensies stared for several minutes at the figure before they recognised him without his typical trimmings of turkey red and fake whiskers.
"Santa!" screamed Lucy.
"Lucy, behave or you won't get any presents," said Susan. She looked hopefully at the large bag in the back seat of Father Christmas's sleigh.
"I thought there wasn't any Christmas anymore," said Peter.
"The witch's power is failing," said Father Christmas. "Her defences are weak and I was able to get through."
He winked pleasantly and picked up the bag, which seemed to the children to be remarkably light.
Father Christmas was in very good spirits this particular Christmas. On ordinary Christmases he came to people's houses and left them presents while they were still asleep, which meant that his job was a rather thankless one, but today he was glowing from all the emotional thank yous he had received from grateful animals. He thought he might try doing this sort of thing every year.
"Let's see, let's see," he said, rummaging officiously in the bag. "Here we are. Presents for Lucy."
He handed her a bottle of magic medicine and a small dagger. To Susan he gave a bow and arrows and a horn, and Peter received a sword and a shield with a lion on it in red. In fact, all the presents were more or less red. Very smart. Very Christmasy.
Father Christmas turned back to his bag and began rummaging with his usual last minute second guesses about who he'd bought what for.
"Hmm, that's strange," he muttered. "I thought I got the horn for Peter and the dagger for Susan. Oh no, that's right. I got the shield for Peter so I gave the horn to Susan. Ah yes, now I remember. So it's all even. But then, who's this for?"
He looked at the electric torch he still held in his hand.
"Oh, I know," he said, his face brightening. He looked up at the children. "Where's Edmond?" he asked.
"He isn't here," said Susan slowly, glancing at Peter.
"He hasn't been a good boy this year," said Peter.
"Oh," said Father Christmas, disappointed as he always was over naughty children. "Oh, well. I can give it to him next year. That will save me some money."
He reached into his bag and pulled out a large tray covered with a hearty Christmas breakfast, magically still hot and steaming.
"You know, I think these presents were cut from the movie," he said, handing the tray to Mrs. Beaver, "but they're in the book, so I'd better make sure I don't forget them. You've got a new sewing machine at home, and Mr. Beaver's dam is repaired. A good thing, since the wolves tore it apart."
"You're an angel!" cried Mr. Beaver.
"Oh, thank you," said Mrs. Beaver, getting choked up. "This smells lovely."
Father Christmas fairly beamed with pleasure.
"There are eight maids a milking on the cow creamer," he said. "-Although you won't understand the allusion, probably. Well, well; I must be off. I have many other stops to make."
He made a show of putting the sack back in his sleigh, all the while taking all the time he could so that the children could have an opportunity of thanking him. When at last he had gotten everything the way he wanted it, he turned around and dusted his hands, then stood and waited.
"Hem," he said, clearing his throat hopefully.
The children stared as if wondering what he was waiting for.
"How do you like the presents?" said Father Christmas encouragingly.
"Um, well..." said Peter, looking at Susan.
Lucy threw her presents on the ground and began to sniffle.
"What's the matter?" said Father Christmas.
"I wanted the horn," wailed Lucy.
"But you got a lovely dagger."
"I don't believe you read a single one of the letters I sent you," said Susan accusingly. "I told you I wanted the mascara from Harrod's."
"I wanted a wireless set," said Peter glumly.
"I never read Christmas letters until December the first," said Father Christmas. "Besides, those presents wouldn't do you any good in Narnia."
"Then why did you get Edmond an electric torch?" asked Peter.
"That's useful in Narnia," Father Christmas argued. "Mascara and wireless sets are not. You couldn't get a signal."
"Who cares about Narnia anyway?" said Susan. "I suppose you mean that we can't take these presents home with us? Because if not, then how are we expected to exchange them?"
"You're not expected to exchange them," said Father Christmas. "I picked those presents out especially because I knew you would need them."
"Well, you might at least have included gift receipts, just in case," said Susan sulkily.
"Look, I understand it's wartime and everything," said Peter, "but we're used to more than two presents each."
"Does that mean we aren't going to get anything when we have Christmas back in England?" sobbed Lucy.
"Of course no—well..." said Father Christmas, "now that you mention it, perhaps I shouldn't bring you anything. You're very ungrateful children."
"What about Edmond?" said Peter, looking at the electric torch still sticking out of the bag.
"None of your business," said Father Christmas sharply. "You'd think one Christmas would be enough for any children. It is the middle of the summer, you know, so by all rights I shouldn't even have bothered coming."
He climbed into his sleigh in a huff, glancing back at the three tearful children. This was not the sort of emotion he had expected and it annoyed him.
"Next Christmas," he said as he pulled away, "I'll stick to coming down chimneys in the dead of night. If I don't get any thanks at least I won't get asked for gift receipts!"
The children watched him disappear from sight. Peter picked up Lucy's bottle of magic medicine and read the label on it curiously. It said:
Fanfic idea, anyone? Like when Lucy gives some of it to Edmond, perhaps?
Please check back tomorrow for the next story, The Darth Mall, on OneSizeFitsAll's profile page. Happy Hobbit watching!