High atop a lonely hill was a just as lonely evergreen.
On this cold winter's night,
Like each year before,
The weathered tree stood as tall as it could,
Having withstood many years of nature's harshness and people's indifference.
Its branches were mostly crooked,
Its crown stooped,
And looking forlornly at the ground.
The nearby trees it had spent years trying to befriend were now mere stumps,
After having been harvested by local farmers to sell as holiday trees at the town market.
Despite the one tree trying to appear as stately as it could,
It was never chosen.
This happened every year,
Too.
Alone on the night of the winter solstice,
With unadorned boughs and no star atop its head,
The weary tree appeared to weep.
As the wind continued to blow,
And the snow began to fall again,
A quiet rustling could be heard in the distance.
A faint glow became stronger and stronger until it took form as a lantern.
Carrying the lantern was an aged gnome with a walking stick in his other hand and a cloth bag slung over his shoulder.
Each step seemed to present the gnome with a new difficulty,
But he kept marching on,
Straight up to the forgotten evergreen.
He stopped when he came to the tree and placed the bag on the ground.
As he stooped to open the bag,
A single crow landed nearby and watched the gnome dig out strand after strand of string decorated with dried cranberries and oranges.
As if it had been rehearsed,
The crow picked up one of the strands with his beak and flew up to the top of the tree,
Where he began wrapping it with the ornaments the gnome had crafted in his shed.
He kept going and going until each of the strands were hanging on the tree's branches before returning to the snow-covered ground to inspect his work.
The tree looked at the gnome and murmured,
Why are you doing this?
What is this for?
The gnome smiled,
Because you are the most special tree in the forest.
But I am not,
The tree said gloomily.
If that were true,
I would not be standing alone.
You have never stood alone,
The gnome replied.
Have you no memory?
The tree was silent.
Oh dear,
The gnome said,
You seem to have forgotten.
He labored a few steps closer to the tree.
You see,
When I was a young boy,
I would often play in these woods.
One afternoon,
The nearby dam broke and the river flooded.
I climbed your branches and rested in your arms until the water subsided.
Many years later,
A young lady stood where I am now to run off foragers who wished to cut you down.
I came and stood beside her.
That is how we met,
And she is now my wife.
The gnome looked down at his walking stick for a moment,
Then back at the tree.
And now that I am old,
One of your fallen branches has become my staff.
Again,
The tree was silent.
So I have come to celebrate you,
The most glorious tree in the forest.
The gnome removed his pointed hat and looked upon the tree with great reverence.
Had you been taken to the market,
I would have drowned.
Because of you,
I have my wife.
Because of you,
I can still walk.
The crow leapt into the air and glided straight up to the evergreen.
It landed on top of the tree and stretched out its wings,
Making its body into a five-pointed star.
So I came to wish you a merry yule,
The gnome said,
And to say thank you.
Brighter than the gnome's lantern,
Or any light from the village below,
The tree smiled.
