The Tomte And The Friendly Beasts, by Leanne Johnson

It was very late one Christmas Eve.  While the family slept, their old house stood proudly in the moonlight.  Fresh white curtains glimmered in the windows.  In the kitchen, copper cookware glowed like burnished gold.  Throughout the house, the woodwork gleamed with an extra coat of polish.  The tree was decorated with sparkling ornaments.  The smells of the Christmas Eve smorgasbord still lingered in the air – roast pork, fish, and bread.  Mmmm.  Even the shoes were all neatly lined up together, so that the family would live in harmony all year round. 

Out in the yard a large pole had been set.  Together the family had attached a sheaf of wheat to the top, and around it sprinkled kernels of corn, seeds, and breadcrumbs.  Even the wild birds had enjoyed a feast that Christmas Eve.    

Out in the barn, the Tomte crept from his hiding place under the floorboards.  Do you know about the Tomte?  He is a wee little man, about yea big.  He has a full beard, and gray hair.  His clothes are gray, too, except for his bright red, knitted cap.  Tomtar live in many homes across Sweden.  But this particular Tomte was very, very old.  Why, he had been living in that same barn the year of the great famine, the year that St. Lucia first came to Sweden, bringing gifts of food and light.

Many families had lived in the Tomte's house over the years, but this was the best family yet.  They took such pride in their house, they took good care of their animals, and they always remembered a gift for their Tomte.  This year, they had even left a lantern glowing in the barn for him.  Tomte looked, and sure enough, beneath its yellow glow was a beautifully painted bowl of his favorite treat.  Yes indeed, it was rice porridge, with a pat of butter melting into golden puddles.

 "Ah, now that's just the way I like it.  Warm, sweet, creamy and buttery.  Mmmm."  He finished the bowl, and wiped it clean, then set the spoon carefully inside.  "This is such a good family.  They follow all the traditions.  Why, it's almost like the old days, back when even the animals could share their stories on Christmas Eve."

And as Tomte remembered the old days, he began to sing an old song.

"Jesus our Brother, kind and good,

Was humbly born in a stable rude,

And the friendly beasts around him stood,

Jesus our Brother, kind and good.

Ah, yes, those were the days.  I wish the animals could still talk on Christmas Eve."

"Hey! Whadd'ya mean?  We can still talk!"

"What? Who said that?"  Tomte looked wildly around the barn, and then looked down.  A small beetle was tapping his foot. 

"Down here, Tomte!  Here I am.  It's me, the beetle.  Hey, hello there.  How you doing? It's Christmas Eve, and since you're listening, I can talk.  Let me tell you my story."  The beetle crawled up on Tomte's knee, sat back on his two hind legs, (he had six of them, you know) and began to tell this story. 

"It takes place in a stable, near Bethlehem.  You've heard of the place?  It's pretty far away from Sweden, and much warmer.  My great-great-uh-I-don't-know-how-great grandpappy used to live there.   It was a pretty boring place, nothing ever happened there.  But one night he woke up and found the stable was filled with light.  There was a young woman kneeling in the straw.  She was holding in her arms a new-borne baby.  Well, that was a surprise.  My grandpappy hadn't even heard her come into the barn.  Then, what happened next was amazing.  All of a sudden there were angels flying around the stable, in and out the door, and across the roof.  Hundreds of them! Wow.  Nothing like this had ever happened before in the little town of Bethlehem!  My grandpappy was so excited.  He wanted to fly out into the countryside, spreading the good news.  But it was dark outside, and he was afraid.  Just then one of the angels looked down and saw him.  The angel somehow understood that my grandpappy wanted to help spread the good news, but he was afraid of the dark.  So, you know what that angel did?  He reached up into his own hair and plucked out a flashing jewel.  He gently placed the jewel upon grandpappy's tail. And would you believe, that jewel to flash like a little yellow light.  With that light, grandpappy was able to fly out into the countryside.  In fact, you can still see all of us descendants to this very day, flying around the countryside at dark.  We still carry the light from the angel upon our tails.  And, whether you call us fireflies, or lightening bugs, we are still out here, lighting up the darkness.  Well, that's my story.  Gotta go now.  See ya!"

And with that, the little beetle blinked his light at Tomte, and flew out of the barn.

"My goodness," said Tomte, "how remarkable!  What a wonderful story!  I used to know some of those stories.  Let me think.  Ah, yes, there was one about the donkey."

And Tomte began to sing again.

"I, said the donkey, all shaggy and brown,

I carried his mother up hill and down,

I carried her safely to Bethlehem town,

I, said the donkey, all shaggy and brown.

Ah, yes, the donkey.  What would they have done without that donkey?  I wonder what other animals were in the stable that night, keeping watch.  It must have been a wonderful experience for them all."

"Nay!" 

"Why, horse, I thought you were sleeping. "

"Neigh, I'm awake.  I was listening to that foolish bug.  Sure, his family did OK that night, but not mine.  Let me tell you what happened.  My great-grand-mare was there.  She said that when the baby was born, they needed a place to put him.  So they put lots of fresh hay into the manger, and put the baby on top.  That's when the trouble started.  Now, grand-mare didn't mind having a baby there, but nobody told her not to eat that hay.  In fact, since everybody was so busy taking care of that baby, they forgot to feed her.  So, whenever nobody was looking, she would pull out some of that hay, just for a little snack. Just to tide her over until somebody remembered to feed her.  Was that so bad?  Nay! Of course, before long, she would have eaten all that hay, and  that baby would be lying on the bare boards of that manger.  And of course that baby would start crying.  So Joseph would fetch more hay and put it under the baby.  And Mary would scold grand-mare, and grand-mare would hang her head and look real sad.  But as soon as things quieted down, grand-mare would lean over and, you guessed it, snatch up another bit of that hay.  Until finally Mary threw up her hands and said, "Horse, from now on, you and your family will always feel hungry, and you will never get enough to eat. You will have to eat all the time." And that's what it's been like to be a horse ever since that day.  You think all the animals had a great time that night?  Nay, I say, Neigh!"

And the horse snorted, grabbed a piece of hay from her feed bucket, and chewed it thoughtfully.  Tomte tried not to laugh.  "Oh, horse, I am so sorry for you, uh, and your family.  I never heard that part of the story.  All I knew was the song of the cow and the manger.

I, said the cow, all white and red,

I gave him my manger for his bed,

I gave him my hay, to pillow his head,

I, said the cow, all white and red."

"Cows, donkeys, horses, bugs – it sounds like the animals came from all over the world to be at that stable."

"Why not?" asked a voice.  And from the behind the feed sacks stalked a stork.  "After all, on the night the child was born, we animals came from all over to worship at his feet.  Among them stood my stork ancestor.  She was tall and proud, like me.  She gazed down at the babe, and her heart was filled with compassion, and pity.  She felt such compassion for this child, who would grow up to bear such burdens.  And she felt true pity for the baby who had to sleep in that rough, splintering, stained, wooden manger. How disgusting!   Then she had a noble idea.  Bending her long neck, she began to pluck the soft, downy feathers from her own breast.  Ow, it hurts just to think of it.  She used them to line the inside of that manger, until the baby lay in a soft, warm pillow.   Much more appropriate.  Joseph saw what she was doing.  And when she had finished, Joseph who blessed her, saying, "from now on you shall be the patron animal of all babies. There, that's my story.  I hope you enjoyed it.  Now, good night, Tomte.  I have other babies to care for."  And the stork stalked away.

"Thank you," Tomte called after her.  He shook his head.  "So many of the animals helped.  I had no idea.  Let me think, I do remember something about…the sheep.

I, said the sheep, with the curly horn,

I gave him my wool for his blanket warm,

He wore my coat on Christmas morn,

I, said the sheep, with the curly horn."

"Meow.  Who cares about the sheep? 

 "Cat, where did you come from?"

The cat smiled and licked his paw.  "Sheep.  Silly creatures, no brains in them.  Meow. Let me tell you a real story, about a creature with the wisdom to do something truly useful."  And the cat sprang into Tomte's lap, and began his tale, while Tomte gently stroked his back.

"Meow.  Among the animals that came to worship that night was Cat.  Back in those days, Cat was still a wild creature.  Rather than sitting with the other animals around the manger, Cat sidled next to the door and stayed there, waiting and watching.  Eventually the other animals returned to their homes, but not Cat.  He stayed in his place, waiting, and watching the child with his eyes opened wide. Unblinking.  It was Mary who noticed the devotion of Cat.  She blessed him, saying, "from now on you shall no longer be a wild creature, but instead, you will live with mankind.  You will watch our homes and our children, and in turn we will feed you warm milk, and let you sleep by our fires."  So it was that Cat was tamed, but not completely.  Watch Cat as he sleeps, for he will arch his back and unsheathe his claws.  And you will know that he is remembering the days when he roamed, wild and free. Meow, meow, meow!"

And with that, the cat leapt out of Tomte's lap, and chased an invisible something into the hayloft.  "Come back, cat!" called Tomte.  "Your story reminded me of another one."  But cat does not come when he is called.  Tomte hummed a bit, waiting, then sang.

"I, said the dove, in the rafters high,

I cooed him to sleep, so he would not cry.

We cooed him to sleep, my mate and I,

I, said the dove, from the rafters high.

Ah, that's such a lovely image.  I can just picture everyone, fast asleep in that stable."

"Well, it's a good thing that not everybody went to sleep."  Tomte looked around, and saw a small bird hopping towards him.  "What do you mean?"  The bird stopped by his feet and looked up at him with glossy black eyes.  "Well, I'll tell you the story the way it's been passed down in MY family.

They said it had been a long, exhausting day.  After all of the visitors had finally left, Joseph tucked a blanket around the baby.  Then he made a bed of straw, persuaded Mary to lie down upon it, and pulled a blanket around her.  He built the fire up until the stable was warm and comfortable.  Then he sat down with his back against the wall. Now, I'm sure he didn't mean to fall asleep.  But, it had been a long, tiring day.  His eyes gradually closed, and his head nodded down to his chest.  Snore.  Time passed, and gradually the fire began to dwindle, and die down.  The stable grew cold, and colder, until finally, Mary woke up.  She saw that Joseph had fallen asleep, and she didn't want to wake him.  He was so tired.  She tried to get up herself, but she was too weak.  She called to the ox," blow upon the fire to rekindle it," but the ox slept.  She called to the donkey, "blow upon the fire," but the donkey slept, as did the sheep.  Cat was right about those sheep, they were useless.  Good thing my family was there.  Because just then, they all  fluttered up to the fire.  Spreading their wings, they began to flap them quickly, vigorously, fanning the flames until they had been rebuilt to majestic proportions.  Only then did they stop and rest.  And Mary saw that some of their feathers had been scorched red by the fire.  She blessed them, saying, "Robins, from this day forward your family shall always wear a red breast, in remembrance of your sacrifice. See, take a look for yourself, Tomte!"  And the robin spread his wings wide, so that Tomte could get a good look. 

"You're right, Robin.  What beautiful red feathers you have on your chest!  Thank you so much for telling me your story tonight."  The robin preened for a moment, then fluttered away.

Tomte yawned.  "Well, it's been a long night.  I need to go to get some rest. Good night, animals!  Sleep well. Thank you for your sharing your stories with me."  He crept back into his hiding place, beneath the floorboards of the barn.    It had been a perfect Christmas Eve, just as good as the old days.

So all the beasts, by some good spell,

In the stable warm were glad to tell,

Of the gifts they gave Emmanuel,

Of the gifts they gave Emmanuel.