The Reindeer Games: The Book

Because I have been so behind in posting the chapters, I have sat down with Santa and Snowball and we have decided to release a book based on the Reindeer Games. My stories will be in there (so you can finally find out what happens... :P) as will the puzzles from the games, along with other goodies to keep you in the holiday mood all year 'round.

Please be patient with us, as we most likely won't be able to get to work on the book until after Christmas; it'll probably be available some time in February. Thank you for understanding!

Part 2: Runaway Reindeer Raises Ruckus

Fourteen Days Until Christmas...

[[nice long one today, kiddies... don't get used to it! -marcus]]

The sun had barely risen over the horizon when Snowball McJinglebell awoke. He yawned, rubbed the Sandman's residue from his eyes, and stepped out of bed. He opened the door to his room after pulling on a bathrobe, and was immediately met with shouting from downstairs. He ran toward the sound, wide awake immediately, wondering who had died.

He pulled open the door that lead to the Great Hall of the Wintercastle, and saw Santa standing in a crowd of Elves. Someone shouted, "He's gone!" Another yelled that there would be no Christmas. Someone else expressed their opinion that Santa himself had eaten him.

"Quiet!" Santa bellowed, causing everyone to jump. Snowball saw Mrs. Claus standing behind her husband, clutching a dishtowel to her chest. She looked very worried; Santa wasn't normally this angry. "Thank you," Santa said when the hubbub had died down. "Now, just because Rudolph is missing, doesn't mean Christmas is canceled. And I most certainly did not eat the poor little dear," he said, glowering at the Elf who had spoken up earlier. "We are going to organize a search party for Rudolph, but not everyone is going to be able to go." There was an outbreak of whispering, so Santa spoke louder. "I know you all love him, as do I, but there's just too much work to be done." As Santa spoke, Snowball had begun to make his way down the large staircase that hugged the wall of the Great Hall. He was now at the bottom.

"I'll lead the party," he volunteered. Santa looked over the crowd of Elves directly at him and shook his head.

"No, Snowball, you must continue to lead the Reindeer Games. The happiness of the players is of the utmost importance." Snowball began to protest, but Santa held up a gloved hand. "Your place is in front of that computer. There are many others who can lead the search party. Not you." Snowball frowned but didn't argue. "Now, I want a group of thirty Elves to go looking for Rudolph. The rest of you, get back to work. I want all toys finished by tomorrow morning at the latest, all right?"

The Elves grumbled, but slowly dispersed back to their various jobs. Snowball walked toward Santa. "What's going on?" he asked Holly, who was standing nearby.

"Rudolph is missing!" she said, turning to him and hugging him hello. "They went to change shifts this morning and found his stall door wide open. They don't know who was on duty last night, so they ca't figure out where he might have gone. Oh, Snowball, it's horrible..."

Snowball patted the top of Holly's head (he was a full three inches taller than her, so he could easily reach) and said, "I'm sure they'll find Rudolph. You know what the weathermen are saying... it's supposed to be extra-cloudy this year. Of course Santa needs Rudolph's nose."

"Who would do something so horrible?" Holly asked. Snowball shook his head. "I mean, why? Why would they want to sabotage Christmas?"

The Elves grumbled, but slowly dispersed back to their various jobs. Snowball walked toward Santa. "What's going on?" he asked Holly, who was standing nearby.

"Rudolph is missing!" she said, turning to him and hugging him hello. "They went to change shifts this morning and found his stall door wide open. They don't know who was on duty last night, so they can't figure out where he might have gone. Oh, Snowball, it's horrible..."

Snowball patted the top of Holly's head (he was a full three inches taller than her, so he could easily reach) and said, "I'm sure they'll find Rudolph. You know what the weathermen are saying... it's supposed to be extra-cloudy this year. Of course Santa needs Rudolph's nose."

"Who would do something so horrible?" Holly asked. Snowball shook his head. "I mean, why? Why would they want to sabotage Christmas?"

The realization hit them both at the same time. "The Candy Cane Kid," they said as one. "It has to be."

Thirty-some-odd Elves had stayed behind to help with the search, including Norman Twinklestar. He felt personally responsible for the disappearance of Rudolph, because he was the last Elf to see the reindeer before he had gone missing. No matter how hard he thought, Norman could not remember who had taken his place last night. For all he knew, it had been the Easter Bunny. "Santa?" Norman said.

Santa Claus turned and looked at the timid Elf. "Yes, Norman?" he asked.

"Do you think the Easter Bunny might have stolen Rudolph?" Norman asked worriedly.

"The Easter Bunny?" Santa chuckled. "I don't think so. Now, here's what we're going to do... Snowball, why are you still here?"

"Sorry, boss," the handsome Elf standing next to Holly O'Mistletoe said. He scampered off to the computer room, probably unaware that he was still wearing only a bathrobe.

"Anyway, what we're going to do is break off into groups of five. That gives us six groups, am I right?" Santa said. A nerdy-looking Elf in the crowd looked up from a calculator and nodded, and Santa smiled. "Good. One group is going to search the path between here and the stables, to make sure Rudolph isn't there. One group is going to head into the Candy Cane Forest, to see if Rudolph wandered off. The next group is going to make a wide circle around the Wintercastle, bundled up heavily to make sure you don't catch a cold. The fourth group will take a shuttle down south to see if anyone has found a runway reindeer with a red schnozz, and the fifth and sixth groups will come with me to search the Wintercastle. Everyone understand?" The Elves around Santa nodded, and he smiled. "Good. I'm glad to hear it. Now, split up!"

There was momentary chaos as the Elves separated into six groups, based primarily on their jobs. The first-level carvers stuck together, the second-level painters, the fourth-level electricians, and so on. Mrs. Claus took advantage of the confusion to slip back off to the kitchens, where she spent the remainder of the day melting chocolate to drip over the Christmas tree they were going to light tomorrow evening.

When the groups had finished forming, Santa designated which group was going where. They all went off on their separate missions, walking purposefully and without hesitation.

Norman found himself in a group with Holly O'Mistletoe and an Elf he didn't particularly care for, a young sprite named Sparky McPointy. They were the ones who had been told they were headed down south, and they were very worried. Elves didn't do too well with heat, and Santa was sending them to a place they had only heard about in storybooks- New York. They were afraid they weren't going to be able to handle it.

"Santa," Holly said when the other groups had all left. "I'm afraid we won't be able to handle the heat in New York."

Santa chuckled. "Don't worry about that, Holly! I have special suits for you... come on! This way."

--------

Several hours later, they were on the shuttle, headed to New York City. If a reindeer with a red nose had been discovered, Santa felt that it was most likely being held at the Bronx Zoo... After all, that was where Dancer had wound up that year his harness broke on Christmas Eve.

They all felt slightly awkward, for Santa had dressed them in suits that very much resembled the outfit he wore every year on his flight around the world. Apparently the suits were temperature-controlled, and could be adjusted so that the Elves were invisible. This was all very useful, they were sure, but Holly for one felt very dorky. What were the humans going to think if they saw her like this? She would much rather have met her first person in one of the beautiful evening gowns she kept tucked away under her bed... but better be unstylish than to die from heatstroke, she guessed. Words of wisdom to live by, and all that.

Norman looked over at Sparky McPointy, who had managed to pull his suit down around his chest so his muscles were showing. Norman felt very threatened by Sparky, who frequently shirked his workshop duties to sneak off with one of the female Elves. Norman wasn't the most attractive of Elves, but he tried to get by. Sparky, though, was a handsome, rugged fellow who liked to show off. And Norman didn't like that.

The shuttle was set to reach New York City at 1:00 a.m. the next day. For the same creatures who had developed a sleigh that was able to visit every house in one night, their personal transport vehicles weren't that sophisticated. After all, they only needed to get around the Wintercastle. Rarely did an Elf travel down south... Regardless, the five Elves who had been chosen to visit the humans settled in for a long, winters' nap.

-------

Late that night, the various groups (except for the ones bound for New York City) who had been out searching for Rudolph sat down to a nice, warm meal together. Their noses and the tips of their ears were red from the cold, and they rubbed their long hands together over nice warm cups of cocoa. Tiny gingerbread men ran underneath the table, jumping at the ankles of the Elves and trying to get their attention. They were promptly ignored.

Santa announced to the Elves that, while Rudolph had not been found, all of the toys had been finished. By tomorrow, he expected to have everything wrapped, and all seemed to be in order for the Christmas Eve flight. Except, of course, for the fact that the weathermen were predicting this to be the foggiest Christmas Eve in hundreds of years, and he needed Rudolph more than ever.

"Friends, let's not dwell on the problems that are to come in the days ahead," Santa said, voice carrying throughout the Dining Hall. "Let's sit down to this wonderful meal prepared for us by the wonderful Elves who work in the kitchens, and let's enjoy ourselves. And tomorrow, we light the Christmas tree!"

The Elves cheered and dug into the meal. They all had turkey, biscuits, mashed potatoes (with gingerbread gravy), cranberry soda, and corn, made of course by Mrs. Claus. An hour later, they were ready for dessert- most of them just reached down and plucked a struggling gingerbread man off the floor.

When most of the Elves had finished their hot cocoa and dessert, and were lying back in their chairs with a hand on their distended stomachs, the door to the Wintercastle slammed open. Everyone turned slowly to look. Snow swirled into the Dining Hall, sending shivers up and down the spines of every Elf there. In the doorway stood the small form of a trembling Elf.

"Santa!" he cried at the top of his lungs. "All of the other reindeer are gone!"

Part I: Candy Cane Kid Creates Commotion

Santa leaned back in his rocking chair and sighed. He had a large stack of papers balanced on his lap- the famous Christmas List. Unfortunately, the list-writers had only finished with it yesterday, and he still had to check it once before he could even begin to think about checking it twice. He still had a lot of work to do until Christmas, and he had only fifteen days left. He needed to make sure all of the toys were finished, sorted, and wrapped. He needed to help the mech-elves finish fixing his sleigh, after that horrible goose collision over Norway last year. He had to schedule trips to the malls down south. He had to make sure the reindeer were ready for the exhausting flight around the world. And he had to start with this list.

Before he began, he thought about how far behind they were this year. At this time last year, the list had already been checked twice. The sleigh hadn't needed repairing, and the Elves had been finished with their toys since Thanksgiving. Mrs. Claus' gingerbread men had been baked and in their packages for quite a while, and he'd even had time for a long winter's nap. This year, though, it didn't look like he was going to get any sleep between now and Christmas.

He opened the first page of the list and peered down at it. The new list-writing Elf they had hired had horribile handwriting... why had they picked him again? This was going to be more difficult than normal.

He hadn't gotten any father than Abred, Alan when there was a knock on the door. "Come in!" he bellowed. The door swung open, and a tiny Elf with a bright red nose tottered in. She was wringing her hands nervously. "Hello, Holly, what can I do for you?" Santa asked. It was his policy to be friendly with every Elf, all the time. He didn't want another rebellion like the Elf revolt of 1823.

"Santa, I think you'd better turn on the television. The Candy Cane Kid is making trouble again," Holly O'Mistletoe said. Santa sighed again and picked up the remote from the table next to his rocking chair. He pressed the large red button shaped like his hat, and the TV across the room whirred to life.

Santa saw the characteristic split screen of a news interview. On the left sat a man in a suit, behind a desk. On the right stood a reddish little creature, with a microphone in front of him. Santa scowled; it was the Candy Cane Kid, the impish little being with the red and white striped eyes who lived in the Candy Cane Forest, next to the Wintercastle. He was in charge of harvesting candy canes, and he was always causing trouble for Santa and the others.

"Santa is a miserable old Elf," the Kid said. "He hates children, and the only reason he makes his Christmas flight every year is because the job benefits are too good to pass up." Holly gasped, covering her mouth with her long, slender fingers.

"Santa receives job benefits?" the anchorman asked, looking a bit disturbed to be speaking with an imp. "Yes! From the International Association of Childhood Dreams... the same company that employs the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny," the Candy Cane Kid said. "Santa's a big fat fraud... emphasis on the fat."

"That's not very nice," the anchorman said, and Santa cheered quietly to himself.

"Well, it's true," the Candy Cane Kid insisted. "So here's what I suggest. Since Santa doesn't like you kiddies anyway, how about you boycot Christmas? Take a year off, see if you can live without old Pere Noel. Don't go see him at the mall, don't go to your local firehouse's Breakfast with Santy Claus, don't write him letters. He hates his job, so let's do him a favor and put him out of his misery."

Santa turned off the television and looked at Holly, who had a panicked look in her eyes. "Santa, what are we going to do?" she asked, voice cracking.

"I'll tell you what we'll do," Santa said, eyes twinkling. "We'll give them the best Christmas they've ever had. So go tell all the toymakers, I want every toy finished by tomorrow night." Santa grinned. "I want wrapping done by Thursday. I want the sleigh fixed tonight, and I want a plate of cookies and a gallon of milk." Holly nodded, swallowing hard.

"Yes, Mr. Claus," she said. She turned to leave.

"Oh, Holly?" Santa said. The Elf turned around.

"Yes, Mr. Claus?"

"Better make that two gallons of milk. I've got a lot of reading to do," Santa added with a smile.

"Yes, Mr. Claus."

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Snowball McJinglebell stood up from his seat by the computer and stretched. He was the head of the Human Division of the Reindeer Games, newly appointed. He'd spent the last two hours checking over lists of Christmas carols, and was more than ready for a break. He needed a cup of hot cocoa, and he needed it fast.

He walked down the hall toward the kitchen, stopping to look in the toy factory as he passed the window. A huge assembly line stretched from one end of the vast room to the other, beginning at the Carving Corner and finally ending at the Wrapping Wroom. Everyone was busy; the mid-December frenzy had taken hold, and they were all working as hard as they could.

Snowball pushed open the door to the kitchen and was met with the overpowering smell of gingerbread. Mrs. Claus was bustling around the kitchen, cooking fifteen different dishes at once. She was in charge of the Christmas feast they held every year to send Santa off on his circumnavigation of the globe; she started cooking in February each year and didn't stop until an hour before the meal.

Now, the gigantic ovens which covered an entire wall of the kitchen were filled with tiny gingerbread men. Mrs. Claus's gingerbread men were legendary; she baked enough each year for every Elf and every creature near the North Pole to have two.

Snowball yawned, worn out from a long day of puzzle checking. Mrs. Claus whirled around, surprised at the sudden noise. "Oh, you poor dear," she said, catching sight of the handsome Elf who stood by the doorway. "You must be exhausted!" Snowball nodded, trying to surpress another yawn. "How are the games coming, dear?" Mrs. Claus asked.

"Very well, thanks," he said. "The people down south are loving them. I get more and more players every day! Which, of course, means more work for me... but I love it!"

Mrs. Claus smiled, stirring a barrel of cranberry sauce on the stove. "Santa is so glad you've put this together, Snowball," she said. "He thinks he might want to do it again next year."

Snowball said, "If we do, I need some help. I can't check those emails all the time. Say, Mrs. C, you wouldn't have time to make me a cup of cocoa, would you? I suppose I could make it myself..."

Mrs. Claus smiled again. She reached into one of the many cupboards around the room and pulled out a still-steaming mug. She handed it to the Elf, directing him to sit at the table to drink.

"Thank you so much," he said, taking a sip. It warmed him right up to the tips of his ears, and filled him with energy.

"Oh, you're welcome, dear!" "How are the gingerbread men coming?" Snowball asked. Mrs. Claus didn't hear him, because she was standing next to a huge teakettle which had decided to whistle "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" rather loudly in her ear. Snowball asked again, and when she didn't answer, he stood up.

He walked over to one of the ovens, dodging a mouse who was stirring a cauldron of egg nog in the middle of the floor. Snowball stood on his tiptoes and reached up to the handle of the oven, and pulled it open.

Hundreds of tiny golden-brown men leapt out, giggling wildly. Snowball gave a shout and fell backwards, and he was immediately overrun with gingerbread men.

Mrs. Claus turned around and put a hand to her forehead. "Oh, dear," she said. "That's not good... not good at all."

Snowball stood up and shook a gingerbread man out of his hair. The tiny army shook their little fists at him, high-fived each other, and ran from the kitchen shouting, "Run, run, as fast as you can! You can't catch us, we're a mob of gingerbread men!"

"Snowball..." Mrs. Claus said. Snowball looked up at his boss's wife, eyes wide.

"I forgot!" he said. "I'm so sorry... I forgot!"

Mrs. Claus grinned. "Oh, don't worry your little ears about it," she said. "It's not a big deal. We'll just invite the Bumble over for a light snack, shall we?"

Snowball blushed. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Claus." He walked back over to the table and sat down, sipping his hot cocoa silently.

The door to the kitchen burst open, and Holly entered. "Santa wants two gallons of milk and some cookies, and why are there hundreds of little gingerbread men running around the castle?" she panted, out of breath.

Snowball waved at his friend. "My fault," he said. She looked at him in surprise, and then laughed. Then her face grew serious.

"Did you hear about the Candy Cane Kid's TV interview?" she asked. Mrs. Claus shook her head, lips pressed tightly together. "He wants everyone down south to boycott Christmas... says Santa hates children and only does his job because the IACD tells him to."

"What a load of reindeer manure!" Snowball exclaimed loudly. "Santa loves children!"

"Gee, you think?" Holly said. "But anyway, it's ok. He said to tell everyone we're going to give them the best Christmas they've ever had!"

Mrs. Claus handed Holly a plate of cookies and a huge mug of milk, and the little Elf ran out of the room. She darted down the hallway, up a golden spiral staircase, through a large cloud of what seemed to be cotton candy, down a smaller staircase, rode a large toy train, and ran through the double doors marked SC.

"Here's your milk and cookies, Santa," Holly O'Mistletoe said. Santa looked up at her, startled. Then he smiled.

"Set them here, Holly dear," he said. "Do you happen to know why I hear shouts of 'you can't catch us' from downstairs?"

"Snowball peeked," Holly giggled.

Santa gave a big, jolly chuckle. "So now there are little gingerbread men running all over the Wintercastle. Very good, very good," Santa said. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"Yes, Mr. Claus," Holly said, ducking back out of the room. She found her friend Tammy Baum outside, and the two walked together back to the workshop, talking about their plans for this Christmas.

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Out in the stable, the Elves were switching shifts.

Norman Twinklestar walked out of the stable and waved at the heavily bundled Elf walking in, who waved back. Norman was very tired; Prancer and Vixen had decided they couldn't be in stalls next to one another, and Dancer and Comet had locked horns. Twice.

He was glad to be off, which is why he didn't notice that the Elf entering the stable had red and white striped eyes...