I totally meant to post this before Christmas, but never got around to it. That's the nature of this time of year, I guess. But to give you guys a belated holiday treat, I'd like to talk about how the Tolkien family did Christmas. Every year, J.R.R. Tolkien would write a letter to his family in the persona of Father Christmas (aka Santa Claus) or one of his friends, and tell them a story about one of his adventures during the year. True to form, he included illustrations and even custom postage stamps from the North Pole. Here is an excerpt from the 1933 letter, courtesy of the LOTR Project blog:
Cliff House
Near the North Pole
December 21st, 1933
Another Christmas! And I almost thought at one time (in November) that there would not be one this year. There would be the 25th of December of course, but nothing from your old great-great-great-etc. grandfather at the North Pole. My pictures tell you part of the story. Goblins. The worst attack we have had for centuries. They have been fearfully wild and angry ever since we took all their stolen toys off them last year, and dosed them with green smoke. You remember the Red Gnomes promised to clear all of them out. There was not one to be found in any hole or cave by New Year’s Day. But I said they would crop up again – in a century or so. They have not waited so long! They must have gathered their nasty friends from mountains all over the world, and been busy all the summer while we were at our sleepiest. This time we had very little warning. Soon after All Saints’ Day, Polar Bear got very restless. He now says he smelt nasty smells – but as usual he did not say anything: he says he did not want to trouble me. He really is a nice old thing, and this time he absolutely saved Christmas. He took to sleeping in the kitchen with his nose towards the cellar-door, opening on the main stairway down into my big stores.
That's enough to make me want to continue reading. You can buy the complete Father Christmas letters on Amazon. I don't know about you, but I already know what I want for Christmas next year! But it goes to show, making up fairy tales or even fanfics about Christmas is perfectly natural.
See you in the Shire!
Cliff House
Near the North Pole
December 21st, 1933
Another Christmas! And I almost thought at one time (in November) that there would not be one this year. There would be the 25th of December of course, but nothing from your old great-great-great-etc. grandfather at the North Pole. My pictures tell you part of the story. Goblins. The worst attack we have had for centuries. They have been fearfully wild and angry ever since we took all their stolen toys off them last year, and dosed them with green smoke. You remember the Red Gnomes promised to clear all of them out. There was not one to be found in any hole or cave by New Year’s Day. But I said they would crop up again – in a century or so. They have not waited so long! They must have gathered their nasty friends from mountains all over the world, and been busy all the summer while we were at our sleepiest. This time we had very little warning. Soon after All Saints’ Day, Polar Bear got very restless. He now says he smelt nasty smells – but as usual he did not say anything: he says he did not want to trouble me. He really is a nice old thing, and this time he absolutely saved Christmas. He took to sleeping in the kitchen with his nose towards the cellar-door, opening on the main stairway down into my big stores.
That's enough to make me want to continue reading. You can buy the complete Father Christmas letters on Amazon. I don't know about you, but I already know what I want for Christmas next year! But it goes to show, making up fairy tales or even fanfics about Christmas is perfectly natural.
See you in the Shire!