He hummed quietly to himself as the lather grew between his palms, rubbing them together vigorously. The water was crisp and cold, but refreshing as he rinsed them clean. With a quick check in the mirror for any straw hairs, he smoothed his greying locks back and adjusted his holly crown.
The days were growing shorter again, which meant that the time of transition was at hand. He was ready for his rest, ready to allow his brother of oak and leaf to take charge once again as the wheel continued to turn.
The cloth mask felt soft and comfortable, but still foreign. The Holly King slipped the loops behind his ears and adjusted the mask to cover his nose and mouth, although he knew it looked a little ridiculous with his long white beard. He quietly made his way to his worn oak chair, pausing only to toss another log upon the sputtering fire.
The log quickly hissed and crackled, rousing the other man from his slumber. Groggily, he sat up and straightened his vest. "I must have dozed off there, apologies," he rumbled. Upon seeing his brother settling down in his seat, he snickered. "You know, we are magical beings and do not suffer from the ailments of mortal people. You look ridiculous in that mask."
"We are in service to those people," the Holly King answered good naturedly. "As they suffer in these pandemic times, the least we can do is be mildly inconvenienced in solidarity."
"As always, you are wise in your way my brother," the Oak King reached for his own face covering and hooked it on. "Speaking of the people, I look forward to getting their correspondence this year. I need a bright spot in all this darkness."
The Holly King stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I'm not sure we can do that this year. The restrictive nature of the world has had reverberations in our own magical world. The Postal Elves tell me that the mail service has conked out."
"What? How is that possible?"
"All things are possible in this new world, my brother. Did you really think that we would be completely unaffected by the strife that stretches across the mortal plane?"
"Quite frankly, yes I did. There are been wars, strife, natural disasters, and yet the Wheel continues to turn and the days will grow long again. I have begun to believe that the soothing power of the written word was also above such change."
"It is, truly. The power of putting pen to paper and transforming thought, desire, and one's will into the material plane continues to hold great power, but I just don't know how we are going to receive these magical manifestations."
The Holly King rose and leaned on the fireplace, allowing the heat to pour over him. The two men brooded in a silence that was so deep and cavernous that they had not noticed the diminutive elf standing between them until he sneezed.
"Odin's Beard!" the Oak King cried out. "Where did you come from?"
"The universe," squeaked the elf. "But more recently, the kitchen. Would you like a bite?" The elf stuck his arm out, proffering a peanut butter sandwich with a distinct, elf-sized bite out of it.
"Kind of you, but no," growled the Holly King, adjusting his lop-sided crown of berries. "What brings you to our fire?"
"Well, I was wondering... that is, we, the Postal Elves, were wondering, hang on..." the Postal Elf took another couple of bites from the sandwich, savoring the peanut buttery goodness. "Mmmmm... there's nothing quite like a good sandwich on a winter's night, doncha think? It really makes me nostal--"
"Out with it, you tiny bundle of Postage Stamps!" barked the Oak King.
"Right!" the elf straightened up and adjusted his hat, trying to look more official. "It's just that we were wondering if you'll be receiving Solstice letters this year? We know that the humans are fearful and feeling isolated, so maybe the letters might make them feel more connected?"
"We want to do it... what's your name?" asked the Holly King softly.
"Buttons," replied the elf.
"Buttons," nodded the Oak King. "I remember you. Aren't you the elf who started that pasta incident last Thanksgiving?"
"With all due respect, your Majesty," the elf replied, staring at his feet. "We do not discuss the Noodle Incident. Union rules."
"Quite right, I had forgotten." the Oak King leaned back in his chair, a twinkle in his eyes. "The problem is that the Mystic Mail Service is inoperative and we don't think we can get it running in time."
"We know," nodded Buttons sadly. "But we have a suggestion. We know it's not ideal, but being creatively compromystic, we have a solution."
"Compromystic? Is that even a real word?" laughed the Holly King.
"Don't interrupt him!" said the Oak King, leaning forward. "What's your idea?"
"We could use the Internet! The people could email their letters to us!"
"Bah! No! That has never been our way." growled the Holly King. "The mystic power of the written word requires that the letters be hand-written. There is an exchange of will, intention, and power when pen is applied to paper. The clickety-clack of keys disconnects the humans from the energy-expression."
The three beings sat there in silence with only the crackle of the fire to comfort them. Then the elf spoke up to say "What they if they took a picture of their letters?"
"Wait... what?" the Holly King sat up and stared at the elf, as if seeing him for the first time.
"Yes... yes that could work!" the Oak King breathed. "The people can still write the letters by hand, sending their energy and intentions into the universe, but we'll be able to read them if they send us the pictures of their letters by email! It's brilliant!"
"I hate staring at the screens," complained the Holly King. "I don't like it."
"We can print the letters once they send them to us," the elf piped in. "You'd never have to look at a single pixel."
"Pixel? Isn't that your sister?"
"No you Holly-ness... My sister's name is Tinsel."
"Close enough," grinned the Holly King. "Alright, I can live with that. Let's give this a try."
And with that decision, the room was instantly filled with the hopeful eyes of dozens of Postal Elves, all staring in anticipation at the royal brethren. "Is it time?" grinned Buttons.
"It is time." laughed the Solstice Kings and the roomed erupted in cheers and joyous laughter.
================
IT IS TIME!
The Solstice Kings are once again offering their Solstice Dispatch Service for the 2020-2021 season. However, this year to reduce the risks that come with the pandemic, we will be switching to a more digital Solstice Service.
However, YOU STILL NEED TO HAND-WRITE YOUR LETTERS. Pull out your writing papers, dust off your quills, and write your letters. When you're ready to send them to the Solstice Kings, you can either scan the letters or take pictures of each page and send them to our Digital Mailbox.
Please send your electronic copies of your hand-written letters to solsticedispatchservice@gmail.com.
Happy Solstice to you all and remember to keep washing your hands, wear your masks, and keep everyone safe. We will all get through this challenge together.
