The Great Arctic Adventure

The tern dropped down, landing on its cage. It shook its wings, dislodging the snow, pushed its way through the trap door, seeking the shelter of the cage. Brimble watched as it hopped around, getting a drink and then pecking at the bowl of seeds. Brimble approached the cage quietly, and gently reached in folding the bird’s wings around its body so he could retrieve the message. He stuck the message in a pocket while he cleared snow from the other cages, and checked to see that the ice in the water containers was broken. Opening a sack of birdseed, he filled the bowls in each cage, thus assuring himself that he had taken care of all the birds. The chores done, he headed back inside. He reached for the message, and began to read Grundle’s note while running down the steps to the kitchen. His face broke into a huge grin. Santa needed help, and with all the men gone, he might be able to realize his biggest dream… a job at the North Pole. He rushed into the kitchen where his mother was busy making porridge and heating the cocoa. “Mother, Mother,” he yelled…his excitement growing. “Brimble, what in the world?” she asked, turning to see her son waving a small piece of paper. “It’s from Santa’s assistant; they need help. Can I go…can I please?” he begged. “Oh, heavens no,” his mother exclaimed. Brimble’s enthusiasm began to wane, and a frown crossed his face. “And why not?” he wanted to know. “Well, just look at the storm outside; you could never make that trek…you’re just too small.” “The men are all gone; who’s left?” he asked her, trying to dispel that size had anything to do with it. His mother shook her head; Brimble was right, and who knew when the men might return. “We’ll just have to find someone,” she told her son. Brimble, still trying to plead his case, asked, “Who?” His mother suggested they find one of the bigger boys. Brimble smiled, knowing that they, too, were gone on the hunt. He felt he was getting closer to being the only choice left. He told her that with the storm, time might delay the hunters’ return and it was running out if anyone was to still leave this morning. His mother dashed any hope he might have had by telling him, “We’ll just have to send a message back explaining our situation. I’m sure they’ll understand, and find some other way to solve their problem.” Undaunted, Brimble made a last effort to explain why he should be allowed to go. “The storm is getting so bad, a tern with a message might not get through, and then no one would know what had happened.” His mother mulled over all that Brimble had used in his argument. She hated to admit it, but he might be the only one to go.“What if you get lost, or freeze to death, or worse yet…the banshees find you? I’ll never know what happened.” “I’ve made the trip with father many times, so I won’t get lost. And maybe because I’m so small, the banshees won’t be interested.” Now Brimble was using his size to his advantage, trying to eliminate her fears. His mother just shook her head, still unconvinced. Yes, he had indeed made deliveries of wood and food with his father many times, but this was different; he would be all alone. “I’ll send a tern with a message when I get to the Pole and the storm let’s up, I’ll let you know right away,” he assured her. She wiped her brow with the hem of her apron, uncertainty showing on her face. Maybe she had no other choice; Santa needed to know about the hunt. If Brimble was to leave, it had to be now, while some of the gray light still broke through the arctic sky. “O.K,” his mother said, “Get your warmest clothes, and I’ll pack your knapsack, but you come back as soon as you can.” Brimble would have yelled, “eureka.” but he knew his mother was very worried about giving her permission. It would be a dangerous trip, one Brimble knew could prove to everyone that his size didn’t matter. When Brimble came down the stairs, he looked like a polar bear. Only his short legs were exposed under the bearskin parka. And they were wrapped in chaps made of walrus skin. It appeared that his small frame might collapse under the weight. His mother put his knapsack over his shoulders and kissed his forehead. “Please, please be very, very careful,” she begged with tears streaming down her cheeks. Brimble tried, but was unable to get his arms up to hug his mother, so he gave her a big grin to reassure her he would be alright. With that, he slipped on his snowshoes, and grabbed his walking stick. His mother handed him the cage and a lantern, and watched him go out the door. Slogging through the village, he reached its outskirts. The lights of the village faded as he moved onto the tundra. He tried to light the lantern despite the blowing snow and his heavy gloves, not only to help guide him, but to help keep banshees away. His father had told him many times that banshees didn’t like light of any kind. He had tried not to think about them, but now was the time of day when those dreaded banshees would begin to search for prey.