The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that becomes legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave its birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in RandlandVille as the people once again started to sing their Christmas carols. The wind was not the beginning, THAT you should know by now, but it was a beginning.

It blew north, over a RandlandVille that was all white from snow. Everywhere was peace and happiness, with fires lit and decorated trees, and the air smelling warmly of candles and food. As the wind heard the familiar tune of “Twelve days of WoT-Christmas” being sung, it stopped and peeked through a window to have a look at the singers and listen for a while.

__ Choir:
On the tenth day of Christmas, the Wheel wove out to me:
Ten peaceful Tinkers
Nine fearsome Whitecloaks
Eight Big Bad Myrddraal
Seven long, long Ages
Six Aes Sedai
Five broken seals
Four Shadowspawn
Three Ta’veren
Two Choedan Kal
And the savior of mankind

On the eleventh day of Christmas, the Wheel wove out to me:
Eleven Ogiers
Ten peaceful Tinkers
Nine fearsome Whitecloaks
Eight…

__ The wind chuckled lightly as it continued on its way. That choir had not consisted of the best singers in RandlandVille, but it had got at least some Christmas feeling. Even the now snow-covered Blight was happy and ready for Christmas, the wind discovered as it passed the Mountains of Dhoom. Curious, the wind stopped to peek into the window of a Trolloc lair from which tunes of another familiar carol was coming.
__ Trolloc family:
Deck the Blight with body pieces
Falalalala-lala-la-la
Dinner made from sev’ral species
Falalalala-lala-la-la
A bony tree and guts for tinsel
Falalala-lalala-la…
__ The wind grimaced uncertainly as it quickly blew away from the window. Different cultures sure had their own ways of celebrating Christmas. It continued through the Blight and the Blasted Lands which were now unrecognizable from the rest of the world; all covered in snow. All the way it blew, all the way up to the dark mountain called Shayol Ghul. Even with its slopes clothed in pure snow, it looked dark. Around it, jagged lightning shot upwards from the clouds, and the snow came up with it. It looked a bit strange.

Suddenly the wind hesitated, not sure if it wanted to blow up the slopes of Shayol Ghul or not. For it knew, that one the mountain lived an old, peevish hermit, known as Ishamael. He was never happy, and now as Christmas was at the door and the people of RandlandVille was going to party and have fun, he was probably even more grumpy than usual. The Wind decided not to visit the mountain, so instead it blew home early to celebrate Christmas with its stormy wife and their two little breezes.

_________________

Ishamael sat reading in his room, warmed by the roaring flames of a fireplace made of riverstones. When you saw them in the corner of your eye, the riverstones seemed to be faces, crying in pain. Actually, they seemed to cry a little less now. It was Christmas after all. Outside an impossible sky of boiling clouds streaked by. It looked strange with the snow that fell - in about as impossible ways - from them.

With the sound of a thunderclap, Ishamael closed the book and put it down on the table beside his high chair. Then he channeled Air to take a beer out of the fridge. He had spent the day reading the book. It was an old book. No, ancient was the word. It was the only one of its kind, saved from the Age before the Age of Legends.

“This must be the least instructive book of instruction I’ve ever read.” he muttered darkly. “A miracle that Dr. Seuss-fellow ever got his title.” Taking a gulp of beer, he walked out on the slope of Shayol Ghul. He didn’t like snow, but now the darn thing was all over the mountain. The fact that tomorrow was Christmas Day made him a lot more angry. He had no friends, no family to celebrate it with. All the other Randlandians had someone to rejoice with, but not he. And if he wasn’t going to have fun, no one was.

“That Grinch-person failed, because he had a heart.” Ishamael said to the world in general. “A small heart, but still a heart. I have no heart,” he half shouted out at the falling snow. “I won’t fail!” And with that, he slipped on some ice and landed in a drift of snow.

___________________

Meanwhile, back in Who...er....RandlandVille, the merry Randlanders prepared themselves for Christmas, ignoring the fact that the holiday came from a religion which did not seem to exist in the Wheel of Time universe. Christmas trees were being put up all over RandlandVille, and now there was some pretty fierce competition for the White Tower. Since the Breaking, the White Tower's tree had been acknowledged as the best. That's where the old saying "Men will anger an Aes Sedai and cut down her tree" came from. It was a commentary on how wool-headed men were, another acknowledged fact in RandlandVille, among the women at least. You did not mess with an Aes Sedai's tree. You just did not. But this year someone, or rather someones, were going to show the Aes Sedai how to decorate a tree....

"M'Hael, I don't think that this is such a goo..." "You what? You WHAT?? You dare question me?! We must prove to those so-called Aes Sedai, to the world, that our Asha'man must be reckoned with!" Dropping his voice to a whisper, the hook-nosed man continued, "and we will show the Lord Dragon Reborn. Oh yes we will. Show him he should have taken me up on my offer to be his partner, for I..." the slightly deranged man raised his voice again, "I will teach them! I will teach them all!!" and so exposed himself for who he really was. Now, just ignore the inconsistencies with the rest of the series and read on. Or I'll get Mess... Taim, that is, to teach you. Bloody readers. Expecting me to be perfect, after all I've done for them. Why I oughta just...

____________

NightShade: *coughs* "Are you sure you're up to this? I mean, we could just... "

Semir: "I'm FINE!! Now lets just get on with it. OKAY??"

NightShade: *looks afraid and nods*

_____________

ANYWAY! Back to the story now.... Back in the Sun Palace, or maybe it was the Stone of Tear, or even the King's Palace in Illian, Rand al'Thor, the Dragon Reborn, Coramoor, Car'a'carn, and the Light knows what else, sat in a wooden chair and stared intensely at a large, grayish box in the corner. A woman with red-gold hair turned and sighed. "Rand, dear, remember what happened the last time you tried to bake the gingerbread men yourself?" Rand lowered gaze sheepishly. In his head, Lews Therin giggled.

"Hee, hee you can't cook! Ilyena could cook....oh Light could that woman cook....and now she's gone....gone forever.....no more of her prized twenty eight layer cakes....oh Ilyena!" the voice dwindled away in the recesses of his mind. Rand shook his head. Of all the things the man could do, the Dragon could not cook worth a pile of horse dung. Then, an idea entered that same head. A slow smile spread across his face. "Those cookies look really good, Elayne. I can't wait to see how they turn out."

____________________

Scratch was curled up before the fireplace of the hall where the Christmas Party would be held. She was among the first ones to get there, having hitched a ride with Thom Merrilin, who was now desperately trying to make the choir sing better. As it appeared, he wouldn’t succeed.

Scratch glanced at the stockings that for some reason were hanging at the fireplace. She had no idea why they were there, but she was sure they would prove interesting. And what was actually the deal with the strange glittery tinsel and those figurines of red-clad fat men with jolly expressions on their faces - some carrying sacks over their shoulders and others waving excitedly from sleighs drawn by red-nosed reindeers - that were to be found everywhere in the halls? Of course, Scratch had seen them before; they always came up at this time of the year. But what was actually the deal with them?

Other things, she was sure she would never understand. Like why humans cut down trees to decorate and dance around during a few days, just to throw them out after a while. Positive, though, was that everything seemed to be happier and nicer at this time of year. She would actually get more food and love now.

She glanced at the strange, bent candysticks that were hanging on the large tree. They sure looked tasty. She made a faint sound. No human would have noticed it, although it was within the pitch that humans could hear, but the dog that lay a few paces away from her did. It jerked up standing with fear and obedience reflected in its eyes. Scratch nodded slightly to one of the candysticks, and the dog scurried away to bring it to her.

Although Buster was one huge bulk of muscles with as much scars as he had fur left, he was the most shy and timid dog in Emond’s Field. He had not always been like that, of course. When he first had come to Emond’s Field, he had been called Catslayer by the animals. Until he met Scratch, that was. In fact, Buster had been one of the easiest to teach about the animal hierarchy in Emond’s Field. Now, he was Scratch’s personal servant. Calmly licking the candystick that Buster gently had placed before her, she purred a short approval to the dog. Buster went back to his place again, happy to have pleased Scratch.

She resisted the urge to streak her ears back and hiss at the choir. Where in the Pit of Doom had they got hold of such lousy singers? The expression on Thom’s face was that of a man ready to give everything up and retire. It would almost be fun to see him when the choir would perform to the audience and the Dragon Reborn. The thought brought Scratch to purr again, although pleased in a different kind of way.

__________________

Back in Shayol Ghul, ol' Ishy sniffled dejectedly. Even the Great Lord was gone, at some holiday get-together outside of the Pattern. There was just no place for a lonely, TP-lovin, madman around Christmas. But that would change. Oh yes....that would change. By the time he got done with these Randlanders, there would be no more Christmas! Instead, there would be a new holiday that revered him, and hundreds, no, thousands of people would buy gifts for him! And there would be balls and parties every night, and there would be scores of invitations just for him! The hardest decision was, what would he call this new holiday? Ishmas sounded too much like Chri....that word.

But enough frivolity! Now it was time for the most important part of his plan, besides finding the right clothes for his parties of course. He had to destroy Christmas. But how to start? Hmmm.... he pondered this a bit. The White Tower's Christmas tree was very important to them, he knew. The snow at Shayol Ghul melted before the furnace of his fiery laughter as he thought up the first stage of his heinous plot.

_______________

In Tar Valon, Elaida tugged and sniffed and twitched as she oversaw the raising and decorating of the annual tree. Some of the Aes Sedai were beginning to be a bit suspicious of Everyone's Favorite Amyrlin (the newest title she had insisted upon). Alviarin whispered in her ear, and Elaida nodded reluctantly. "More of that black ribbon right about there. No, not there!! Bloody...yes there. And that tinsel.....no not the package that says ‘The Tinsel Any Amyrlin who’s not a complete dolt uses’. Remember that Bonwhin and Tetsuan used it and they were Reds too! The package that says, ‘BA, DF, and DO certified Inky Midnight Pitch"! Are you a bunch of ninnies or Aes Sedai?"’

Even some of the Browns had to wonder for what those abbreviations stood. Unnoticed by most people, one diminutive Aes Sedai strolled up and casually lifted the first package of tinsel and walked away whistling innocently. Sure, most Aes Sedai don't whistle, but how many steal tinsel anyway? The Aes Sedai walked a little further and a silver line appeared in the clearing before her. It rotated, then opened, and the woman stepped through. On the other side, it was taken by a younger woman with a shawl who most definitely did not look Aes Sedai. The last, the only, words heard before the gateway closed were, "Now they must acknowledge me as their Amyrlin!"

________________

Wrapped in a plain cloak, Ishy started down the slopes of Shayol Ghul. He had been walking for a few hours when it struck him. He sighed, made a Gateway of his own, and stepped through. You know how evil madmen can be. The day passed by, and a hole was ripped in the Pattern as Ishy made a gate back to his home. Shayol Ghul was empty, except for one lone figure dragging something behind him. The slopes of that evil place echoed as he sighed again, and the bundle behind him floated, seemingly supported by nothing. If there had been anyone around to here anything, he or she would have heard the figure exclaim, "What? Now since when was snow black? There is a veritable blizzard of...oh...right.. the saa..."

Back in his fireplace room, Ishy turned to the riverstones and screamed at them, "What's your problem?? You're not the ones stuck all by yourselves on Christmas, so you can just shut up!" The faces did stop screaming, but they didn't be quiet. In the silence, faint voices could be heard chanting, "No one likes Ishamael, he doesn't have a li-ife, no one likes Ishamael.." and so on. "Oh yeah? You think you're so cool, don't you? Screaming in fireplaces and everything? Well that's easy! I stole the White Tower's Christmas tree! And the rebel Aes Sedai's tree! And that Mess....er.. Taim's tree! In fact, I stole every important Christmas tree in RandlandVille!

His mad laughter faded when his gaze fell upon the book on the table. That loser, the Grinch-person, had in fact stolen all of the Christmas trees - not just the important ones. He thought through it for a moment, then sighed and picked up his sack again. He obviously had to steal every tree in the whole RandlandVille if he was to prove himself better than that lousy Grinch. He walked down the slope of Shayol Ghul and continued for a half a mile in the snow before suddenly stopping. Gnashing his teeth, he wove a Gateway. “I always forget that,” he muttered.

________________

Thom hid a grimace as the so-called choir finished the carol in at least five different notes, of which at least three had no known name. Thom sighed and tried desperately to hold his face straight. How was this going to work? Muttering darkly, he turned to the Creators. “Where in the Pit of Doom did you find this choir??”

Semir: *looks up* “Oh..emh… Nighty?”

NightShade: “Hmm? Oh, those I picked up among the WoTers of the world. They were the only ones who agreed to do it.”

“And you didn’t check if they actually could sing first?” Thom clenched his fists at his sides, trying not to think of what he was close to do.

NightShade: Now when you mention it, no I didn’t. But I’m sure you can get a right side to this little problem. Right, Thom?

Thom muttered and turned back to the choir without answering. “Ok, people, shall we try again?” He prepared himself to put the choir to a start when he heard someone call his name. Hoping innerly that it was good news, he turned around to face the skinny fellow to had spoken. “Yes, what is it?” The other man had an uncertain look on his face. “You have some visitors that would like to help you with the choir, Thom. It’s the Emond’s Field Folk Music Band.” Thom sighed deeply. Just when you thought it couldn’t get worse…

________________

Later at night, Ishamael listened at the chimney, as always not far from a mad laughter. The sound of people having fun was hard to mistake. But they wouldn’t have fun for much longer. The stasis-sack he carried over his shoulder already held about a hundred of Christmas trees, a myriad of presents and unimaginable amounts of red-clad fat figurines and tinsel. Soon, he would add the numbers found in this building. No feeling of Christmas would be left behind! Suddenly he heard voices from down there. Interested what it might be about, he settled the mad laughter that almost had sprung forth from his throat.

“My ladies and gentlemen,” the voice started but then stopped with a muffled gulp. “…and cats,” it added hurriedly. “I have the honor to introduce tonight’s entertainment: Merry Merrilin and the RandlandVille Choir!” Huge applauds and roars of acknowledgement rose in the hall below. Ishamael wondered if he would have to steal the choir as well. “…accompanied by the Emond’s Field Folk Music Band!” On one instant, every bird that sat on the roof of the building, as well as all the surrounding buildings, lifted to fly in panic, some of them crashing into one another fighting to get away. Ishamael decided to take that house later on and opened a Gateway.

Looking around at the view from the roof he had landed on, he decided that this place was calmer. Without a second thought, he crept down the chimney. The interior of the house gave the impression of order, with everything hanging or standing in just the right place. However, there weren’t much decorations, so it would be a short visit. Ishamael grinned and started to collect the few decorations and the Christmas tree to bring up the chimney again.

“Hey! Who are you, and why are you taking our Christmas tree?!” A shiver ran along Ishamael’s spine. A voice that stern and cold could only belong to one person. Turning around he found Nynaeve with her arms crossed beneath her breasts, the braid in her hand ready to tug, and her nose shivering on the brink of a sniff. Ishamael thought quickly, and found a slight similarity to a scene in the book. And even that wet Grinch-person had managed to handle that situation fairly well. He cleared his throat.

“A light on the tree is blinking, my little friend. I’ll take it home to repair it, and then bring it back here again.” He smiled inwards at himself. “Do you think I’m buying that?” Nynaeve said coldly and gripped her cane harder. Ishamael looked up in confusion. “Huh? Why not…? I thought the ‘Little Cindy Lou Who, who isn’t more than two’-character was supposed to…”. “Who do you say isn’t more than two?!!,” Nynaeve shouted and hit Ishamael in the head with her cane. Then she brushed off her hands and called the police with her Tel’a’fon-ter’angreal.

__________________

“And so we have come to the end of the tale
Where Ishy is locked up in Tar Valon jail
Teasing the Wisdom, a bad thing to do
And worse still to call her “not more than two”
But like every story, a message we give
Where the villain repents and a good life will live…”


…
…
…
…


“Well…?”

Ishamael grumbled and glared hotly at the snow that fell outside the barred window of the cell. Here he was in a prison in Tar Valon, and all he had wanted was to steal Christmas. Sighing deeply, he took his eyes from the window. “At least I’ve got someone to celebrate Christmas with now,” he muttered and glanced at the huge, bearded man who lay at the other side of the cell, who raised his head to glare at Ishamael. “Shut up! I do be trying to sleep!”

Ishamael sighed again, then leaned back and tried to think of what he had done wrong. He had told her the light on the tree was blinking, which sounded like a good thing to say in that situation. Probably, he shouldn’t have said that thing about Little Cindy Lou Who aloud. Women were very prickly about their age. Ishamael wondered if his heart would grow three times its size now, or something. To him, that process sounded rather painful.

Suddenly a loud scraping noise was heard as the key turned in the lock. The heavy door swung open and a guard looked in. “Hey Mr. Tedronai, you may go now. The Dragon Reborn paid the bail for you.” Confused, Ishamael stood up and walked out from the prison. Outside, Rand was waiting for him.

“Fool,” Ishamael exclaimed. “Why did you release me? I’m still as mean as I’ve always been.” The Dragon Reborn smiled calmly. “I thought you’d better pay your dept out here than in the jail.” Ishamael scratched his head in thoughts. “But that’s Impossible,” he said after a few seconds. “How am I supposed to suffer more out here than in…”. “Merry Christmas, dear mean Ishamael,” several persons started singing from around them that Ishamael had not noticed before. “No,” he screamed, clenching his fists in terror. “Not a song-and-dance-scene on the street with Tinkers dressed up as elves! No! Noooooooooooooo!!!”

* * *

And the scream sounded out over RandlandVille, carried by the winds that slowly blew among the falling snowflakes. All the way to the party hall where Randlanders were singing carols with Merry Merrilin and the band. But no one inside heard it, for they were too busy enjoying themselves. All through Christmas Eve they would party and sing, and their songs carried them on into the new day. And the Wheel of Time turns.

THE END

____________________________________

NightShade and the Traveler put down their quills and shook hands. It hadn’t been all that impossible to write humor together, after all. Although they lived on opposite sides of the planet.

NightShade: “Well done, Evil One. I could never had done this without you.”

Semir: “Thanks. You didn’t do too bad yourself.”

NightShade: “Let’s celebrate this!”

NightShade stood up and went to the kitchen. After a minute he returned with two mugs of hot liquid. He placed one in front of the Traveler and sat down with the other one still in his hand.

Semir: “What’s this?”

NightShade: “I don’t know if there’s a translation to it, but in Sweden we call it Glögg. It’s something we drink at Christmas.”

Semir: “Glogg?”

NightShade: “No, no. Glögg. See, the “ö” is pronounced like the prefix “a” in sentences like “a dog”, “a computer” and so on.”

Semir: “Oh?”

NightShade: “No, no. Ö!”

Semir: *sigh* “Ok, ok, I get the point. What’s this drink like?”

NightShade: “Well… basically, it’s spiced wine.”

Semir: “Oh well, that doesn’t sound too strange.”

NightShade: *turns to the readers* “So, this is our way of saying: Merry Christmas to you all!”

Semir: “Merry Christmas everybody, and thanks for reading!”

Merry Christmas
From NightShade, Traveler of the Ways and the HPG