[Winter Contest Entry 2021] Klaus and the Reindeer

In a magical wood now lost, when the trees were young and man still feared the dark, there lived a spirit. In those days, the spirits of nature roamed freely and meddled in the affairs of mortals, much unlike today. He was a wish-granting spirit, a djinn as the people called his brothers in the desert, and his name was Klaus.

Klaus was young, born on the first snowfall of winter, and he was free. The other spirits clung to each other and their fae courts and solstices, but Klaus loved the unknown, the wider world outside. Many a time travelers would catch glimpse of a boy in the woods, flitting through the trees and making birdsong noises, and they might wake to find themselves refreshed and their flasks refilled with packets of biscuits in places there previously hadn’t been. Klaus enjoyed the look of wonder and joy that would cross a man’s face when he received such a present in a cold, unfriendly place so far from home. He enjoyed granting wishes.

Word soon spread of the kind and benevolent spirit of the magical wood who would bless travelers with tea and biscuits and a safe journey, and Klaus’s wood quickly became a most popular destination. In the summertime he slept, for travelers did not have much need for guidance when the days were longer and the snow absent, and in winter he would emerge to bring smiles to the faces of those braving his wood. The people made coloured lanterns and lit them at night, and weaved wreaths from the trees to show their appreciation to the forest. Sometimes Klaus was joined by others, lesser djinni who would light fires on cold days and rain sweet candy from the skies, but the greater gifts were always given by Klaus himself; the repair of a wagon wheel or a clear sky of stars to navigate by, or a sprig of mistletoe to bring shy lovers together.

One foggy winter’s eve, a reindeer stumbled into Klaus’s wood. He was a young reindeer, slightly touched by magic but still mortal, and he had magnificent antlers that would make the greatest stag envious. Woven into those antlers were strings and strings of golden bells, such that each step the reindeer took the bells rang clear and sublime through the night. The reindeer staggered through the bushes on uneven legs, shaking his horns this way and that to free himself of the jingling, but to no avail. Klaus watched in puzzlement before the creature finally stopped by a creek to drink.

“Friend,” Klaus called out. “Why do you run so? Take a rest; I will make sure you reach your destination on time.”

The reindeer scoffed. “My lord, I wish it were that simple. I have a goal but no destination; each breath I spend waiting is a breath closer to my demise. Even now I hear them, their arrowheads lusting for my blood. They hunt me, and eventually they will catch me.”

Until now, Klaus had only ever encountered travelers and merchants and other common folk. The men in his forest hunted to feed themselves, to survive, but never for leisure. It was not a concept Klaus could understand.

“They blessed me with a witch’s magic,” the reindeer continued. “Or cursed, rather. Cursed me with speed and grace and strength to continue, to run for days and nights on end. All so they could chase me with their hounds and horses, and take my head back to their king.”

“What of the bells?” said Klaus. “Why would they give you such pretty bells only to kill you?”

“Because the sound of my staggered breathing is not music enough to their ears. They are evil, my lord. I am surprised you have never come across them.” The deer raised its head. “I hear them now. They will be here before long.”

And Klaus too heard them coming, the panting of hounds enraptured by the hunt, the galloping of hooves, the jovial exchanges of fat men in chains of gold. He smelled their excitement, and it sickened him that they could feel such joy at the misery of another.

“Are you sure they are men?” Klaus asked. “I have not met a man so vile in my time here.”

“You must be young then,” the reindeer replied. “There are many kinds of men, as there are spirits. There are nice men, kind men, angry and sad and evil men. The ones behind me hunted my brothers and sisters and killed them, and left me for last, because I was the fastest. Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen—all gone, turned into the foul coats they now wear.” The deer stamped a hoof. “If I could, I’d kill them all.” He settled to his knees and sighed. “Alas, I am tired so I think I will sleep.”

The reindeer’s greatest wish was to live. So moved was Klaus to grant it that he summoned a great blade of ice from the snow, white and curved like the crescent moon, and stood firm beside the creature.

“Rise, friend. I will grant your wish.”

And as the hunters came into the clearing, the hounds barking and snapping and straining against their leashes, the lips of the fat nobles widening in glee, the reindeer suddenly felt strength enter his limbs.

“You cannot run from them forever,” Klaus said. “Let us fight. They cannot win on my land.”

The hunters, of course, could not understand the conversation between the spirit and the enchanted deer. Their leader spoke a few words, and then drew his bow and fired.

The ensuing massacre lasted under a minute. Magic was strong then, and men were weak. Their blood stained Klaus’s coat red, and caused deep rivulets to run down his sword like stripes. The reindeer too had fought, slashing and stabbing the hounds and their masters such that his nose glowed red like a jewel; and once the horses realized the men were dead, they fled their separate ways.

“You’ve freed me,” the reindeer panted, at the end of their battle. “My life is yours.”

Klaus looked at his sword and grimaced. The blood had frozen along its length and he did not know how to clean it.

“You say there are men outside of this forest who are evil? Ones who would wish harm upon innocents?”

“For each good man there is at least another who is not. After tonight, there will be a fair few who would wish us dead.”

“Wish us dead,” Klaus repeated.

Djinn by nature care little for the ethics of their granted wishes; but Klaus was no ordinary djinn, and he did not want to grant wishes to evil people.

“What is your name, friend?” he asked.

The deer tipped his head, and the bells jingled. “Rudolf, sir.” Blood gleamed atop his nose, scarlet and shining.

“Let us ride, then. We will leave this forest and grant wishes to the nice men of this world. And to the not-so-nice… we bring justice.”