Hogfather Part 34

"And don't forget the presents," said the Chair of Indefinite Studies, as if reading off some internal list of gloom. "How...how full of potential they seem in all that paper, how pregnant with possibilities...and then you open them and basically the wrapping paper was more more interesting and you have to say 'How thoughtful, that interesting and you have to say 'How thoughtful, that will will come in handy.' It's not better to give than to receive, in my opinion, it's just less embarra.s.sing." come in handy.' It's not better to give than to receive, in my opinion, it's just less embarra.s.sing."

"I've worked out," said the Senior Wrangler, "that over the years I have been a net exporter of Hogswatch presents-"

"Oh, everyone is," said the Chair. "You spend a fortune on other people and what you get when all the paper is cleared away is one slipper that's the wrong color and a book about ear wax."

Ridcully sat in horrified amazement. He'd always enjoyed Hogswatch, every bit of it. He'd enjoyed seeing ancient relatives, he'd enjoyed the food, he'd been good good at games like Chase My Neighbor up the Pa.s.sage and Hooray Jolly Tinker. He was always the first to don a paper hat. He felt that paper hats lent a special festive air to the occasion. And he always very carefully read the messages on Hogswatch cards and found time for a few kind thoughts about the sender. at games like Chase My Neighbor up the Pa.s.sage and Hooray Jolly Tinker. He was always the first to don a paper hat. He felt that paper hats lent a special festive air to the occasion. And he always very carefully read the messages on Hogswatch cards and found time for a few kind thoughts about the sender.

Listening to his wizards was like watching someone kick apart a doll's house.

"At least the Hogswatch cracker mottoes are fun...?" he ventured.

They all turned to look at him, and then turned away again.

"If you have the sense of humor of a wire coat hanger," said the Senior Wrangler.

"Oh dear," said Ridcully. "Then perhaps there isn't isn't a Hogfather if all you chaps are sitting around with long faces. He's not the sort to let people go around being miserable!" a Hogfather if all you chaps are sitting around with long faces. He's not the sort to let people go around being miserable!"

"Ridcully, he's just some old winter G.o.d," said the Senior Wrangler wearily. "He's not the Cheerful Fairy or anything."

The Lecturer in Recent Runes raised his chin from his hands. "What Cheerful Fairy?"

"Oh, it's just something my granny used to go on about if it was a wet afternoon and we were getting on her nerves," said the Senior Wrangler. "She'd say 'I'll call the Cheerful Fairy if you're...'" He stopped, looking guilty.

The Archchancellor held a hand to his ear in a theatrical gesture denoting, "Hush. What was that I heard?"

"Someone tinkled," he said. "Thank you, Senior Wrangler."

"Oh, no," the Senior Wrangler moaned. "No, no, no!"

They listened for a moment.

"We might have got away with it," said Ponder. "I didn't hear anything..." didn't hear anything..."

"Yes, but you can just imagine her, can't you?" said the Dean. "The moment you said it, I had this picture in my mind. She's going to have a whole bag of word games, for one thing. Or she'll suggest we go outdoors for our health."

The wizards shuddered. They weren't against the outdoors, it was simply their place in it they objected to.

"Cheerfulness has always got me down," said the Dean.

"Well, if some wretched little ball of cheerfulness turns up I shan't have it for one," said the Senior Wrangler, folding his arms. "I've put up with monsters and trolls and big green things with teeth, so I'm not sitting still for any kind of-"

"h.e.l.lo!! h.e.l.lo!!"

The voice was the kind of voice that reads suitable stories to children. Every vowel was beautifully rounded. And they could hear the extra exclamation marks, born of a sort of desperate despairing jollity, slot into place. They turned.

The Cheerful Fairy was quite short and plump in a tweed skirt and shoes so sensible they could do their own tax returns, and was pretty much like the first teacher you get at school, the one who has special training in dealing with nervous incontinence and little boys whose contribution to the wonderful world of sharing consists largely of hitting a small girl repeatedly over the head with a wooden horse. In fact, this picture was helped by the whistle on a string around her neck and a general impression that at any moment she would clap her hands.

The tiny gauzy wings just visible on her back were probably just for show, but the wizards kept on staring at her shoulder.

"h.e.l.lo-" she said again, but a lot more uncertainly. She gave them a suspicious look. "You're rather big big boys," she said, as if they'd become so in order to spite her. She blinked. "It's my job to chase those blues away," she added, apparently following a memorized script. Then she seemed to rally a bit and went on. "So chins up, everyone, and let's see a lot of bright s.h.i.+ning faces!!" boys," she said, as if they'd become so in order to spite her. She blinked. "It's my job to chase those blues away," she added, apparently following a memorized script. Then she seemed to rally a bit and went on. "So chins up, everyone, and let's see a lot of bright s.h.i.+ning faces!!"

Her gaze met that of the Senior Wrangler, who had probably never had a bright s.h.i.+ning face in his entire life. He specialized in dull, sullen ones. The one he was wearing now would have won prizes.

"Excuse me, madam," said Ridcully. "But is that a chicken on your shoulder?"

"It's, er, it's, er, it's the Blue Bird of Happiness," said the Cheerful Fairy. Her voice now had the slightly shaking tone of someone who doesn't quite believe what she has just said but is going to go on saying it anyway, just in case saying it will eventually make it true.

"I beg your pardon, but it is a chicken. A live chicken," said Ridcully. "It just went cluck."

"It is is blue," she said hopelessly. blue," she said hopelessly.

"Well, that at least is true," Ridcully conceded, as kindly as he could manage. "Left to myself, I expect I'd have imagined a slightly more streamlined streamlined Blue Bird of Happiness, but I can't actually fault you there." Blue Bird of Happiness, but I can't actually fault you there."

The Cheerful Fairy coughed nervously and fiddled with the b.u.t.tons on her sensible woolly jumper.

"How about a nice game to get us all in the mood?" she said. "A guessing game, perhaps? Or a painting compet.i.tion? There may be a small prize for the winner."

"Madam, we're wizards," said the Senior Wrangler. "We don't do cheerful."

"Charades?" said the Cheerful Fairy. "Or perhaps you've been playing them already? How about a singsong? Who knows 'Row Row Row Your Boat'?"

Her bright little smile hit the group scowl of the a.s.sembled wizards. "We don't want to be Mr. Grumpy, do we?" she added hopefully.

"Yes," said the Senior Wrangler.

The Cheerful Fairy sagged, and then patted frantically at her shapeless sleeves until she tugged out a balled-up handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes.

"It's all going wrong again, isn't it?" she said, her chin trembling. "No one ever wants to be cheerful these days, and I really do do try. I've made a Joke Book and I've got three boxes of clothes for charades and...and...and whenever I try to cheer people up they all look embarra.s.sed...and really I try. I've made a Joke Book and I've got three boxes of clothes for charades and...and...and whenever I try to cheer people up they all look embarra.s.sed...and really I do do make an effort..." make an effort..."

She blew her nose loudly.

Even the Senior Wrangler had the grace to look embarra.s.sed.

"Er..." he began.

"Would it hurt anyone just occasionally occasionally to try to be a to try to be a little little bit cheerful?" said the Cheerful Fairy. bit cheerful?" said the Cheerful Fairy.

"Er...in what way?" said the Senior Wrangler, feeling wretched.

"Well, there's so many nice things to be cheerful about," said the Cheerful Fairy, blowing her nose again.

"Er...raindrops and sunsets and that sort of thing?" said the Senior Wrangler, managing some sarcasm, but they could tell his heart wasn't in it. "Er, would you like to borrow my handkerchief? It's nearly fresh."

"Why don't you get the lady a nice sherry?" said Ridcully. "And some corn for her chicken..."

"Oh, I never never drink alcohol," said the Cheerful Fairy, horrified. drink alcohol," said the Cheerful Fairy, horrified.

"Really?" said Ridcully. "We find it's something to be cheerful about. Mr. Stibbons...would you be so kind as to step over here for a moment?"

He beckoned him up close.

"There's got to be a lot of belief slos.h.i.+ng around to let her her be created," he said. "She's a good fourteen stone, if I'm any judge. If we wanted to contact the Hogfather, how would we go about it? Letter up chimney?" be created," he said. "She's a good fourteen stone, if I'm any judge. If we wanted to contact the Hogfather, how would we go about it? Letter up chimney?"

"Yes, but not tonight tonight, sir," said Ponder. "He'll be out delivering."

"No telling where he'll be, then," said Ridcully. "Blast."

"Of course, he might not have come here here yet," said Ponder. yet," said Ponder.

"Why should he come here?" said Ridcully.

The Librarian pulled the blankets over himself and curled up.

As an orangutan he hankered for the warmth of the rain forest. The problem was that he'd never even seen seen a rain forest, having been turned into an orangutan when he was already a fully grown human. Something in his bones knew about it, though, and didn't like the cold of winter at all. But he was also a librarian in those same bones and he flatly refused to allow fires to be lit in the library. As a result, pillows and blankets went missing everywhere else in the University and ended up in a sort of coc.o.o.n in the reference section, in which the ape lurked during the worst of the winter. a rain forest, having been turned into an orangutan when he was already a fully grown human. Something in his bones knew about it, though, and didn't like the cold of winter at all. But he was also a librarian in those same bones and he flatly refused to allow fires to be lit in the library. As a result, pillows and blankets went missing everywhere else in the University and ended up in a sort of coc.o.o.n in the reference section, in which the ape lurked during the worst of the winter.

He turned over and wrapped himself in the Bursar's curtains.

There was a creaking outside his nest, and some whispering.

"No, don't light the lamp."

"I wondered why I hadn't seen him all evening."

"Oh, he goes to bed early on Hogswatch Eve, sir. Here we are..."

There was some rustling.

"We're in luck. It hasn't been filled," said Ponder. "Looks like he's used one of the Bursar's."

"He puts it up every year?"

"Apparently."

"But it's not as though he's a child. A certain childlike simplicity, perhaps."

"It might be different for orangutans, Archchancellor."

"Do they do it in the jungle, d'you think?"

"I don't imagine so, sir. No chimneys, for one thing."

"And quite short legs, of course. Extremely underfunded in the sock area, orangutans. They'd be quids in if they could hang up gloves, of course. Hogfather'd be on double s.h.i.+fts if they could hang up their gloves. On account of the length of their arms."

"Very good, Archchancellor."

"I say, what's this on the...my word, a gla.s.s of sherry. Well, waste not, want not." There was a damp glugging noise in the darkness.

"I think that was supposed to be for the Hogfather, sir."

"And the banana?"

"I imagine imagine that's been left out for the pigs, sir." that's been left out for the pigs, sir."

"Pigs?"

"Oh, you you know, sir. Tusker and Snouter and Gouger and Rooter. I mean," Ponder stopped, conscious that a grown man shouldn't be able to remember this sort of thing, "that's what children believe." know, sir. Tusker and Snouter and Gouger and Rooter. I mean," Ponder stopped, conscious that a grown man shouldn't be able to remember this sort of thing, "that's what children believe."

"Bananas for pigs? That's not traditional, is it? I'd have thought acorns, perhaps. Or apples or swedes."

"Yes, sir, but the Librarian likes bananas, sir."

"Very nouris.h.i.+n' fruit, Mr. Stibbons."

"Yes, sir. Although, funnily enough it's not actually a fruit, sir."

"Really?"

"Yes, sir. Botanically, it's a type of fish, sir. According to my theory it's cladistically a.s.sociated with the Krullian pipefish, sir, which of course is also yellow and goes around in bunches or shoals."

"And lives in trees?"

"Well, not usually, sir. The banana is obviously exploiting a new niche."

"Good heavens, really? It's a funny thing, but I've never much liked bananas and I've always been a bit suspicious of fish, too. That'd explain it."

"Yes, sir."

"Do they attack swimmers?"

"Not that I've heard, sir. Of course, they may be clever enough to only attack swimmers who're far from land."

"What, you mean sort of...high up? In the trees, as it were?"

"Possibly, sir."

"Cunning, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, we might as well make ourselves comfortable, Mr. Stibbons."

"Yes, sir."

A match flared in the darkness as Ridcully lit his pipe.