Good King John-ceslas!
John sighed and packed up his snowboard. He and Ronon had had a wonderful time sliding down un-molested pistes on this snow-ridden world where few people lived and the gate was one of those space ones.
Ronon, of course, had taken to snowboarding like a duck to water and Teyla and Kanaan had declared it fun, but too cold. They had opted to stay with Rodney in the jumper. Torren had tired of making snowmen and snow-angels and had been laid down, snug and warm in his travel cot, sleeping it all off. Rodney had eventually taken them all home to Atlantis, returning for John afterwards.
Rodney was having a wonderful time too. He was dry and warm and allowed to play with his laptop while also doing the ‘team’ thing. It was ideal. No minions to bother him and the pleasure of doing something that others wanted him to do without any incursion on his time. Win-win- in fact, the perfect way to wind down after the excitement of Christmas Day.
Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight, gathering winter fuel.
John sighed the sigh of a man who had exercised well and had thoroughly pumped up his adrenaline at the same time. He knew he’d have aches and pains tomorrow, but today was all about the exhilaration. The snowboard was back in its carrier and he was just looking out over the scenery, when he spotted movement, right up in the tree line. It looked like a man.
Puzzled, because there really wasn’t supposed to be anyone up here, John grabbed a pair of binoculars and focused on the figure. It was a man and he appeared to be gathering sticks.
“Rodney?”
“Hither page and stand by me, if thou knowst it telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?”
“Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence, by St Agnes’ fountain.”
“Rodney?”
“What? I’m busy!”
“Rodney!” John insisted, pushing at the laptop.
“What are you doing? Get... Colonel! I’m working on...” Rodney flapped indignantly.
“This is important!” John insisted.
“What? ‘Wraith-are-eating-me’ important or ‘I’m-bored-Rodney’ important?” Rodney demanded, unimpressed.
“There’s a man over there!”
“What? Where? There’s no one up here!” Rodney replied.
“That guy’s up here and he’s collecting sticks!” John argued.
Rodney took the binoculars and focused them. Then he cleaned them and looked again. He then pulled out his LSD and poked it a bit.
“It’s a man,” he announced, eventually, “picking up sticks, presumably for a fire.”
“I know that, but where does he live? Why is he up here all alone? Is he alone?” John whined.
“How the hell should I know, Colonel?” Rodney demanded. “The LSD only tells me so much. However, there is a dwelling over by that waterfall over there, on the tree-line, so I would guess he lives there. There are two more life signs there too. Now, can we go home?”
“If he’s picking up sticks, it must be for a fire and he’s old.” John had grabbed the binoculars back and was training them on the old man.
“So? I doubt the Wraith ever bother to come here,” Rodney pointed out. “Now, sit and fly us home.”
“He’s an old man, Rodney! Look!” John held the binoculars out invitingly, but Rodney made a tutting noise and declined. “I bet they don’t have much, living up here on their own. Even if they do ever go down to the village, they can only do it when the snow has thawed enough, and it would take days to get there.”
“So?”
“So...” John answered, pondering.
“Bring me flesh and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither,
Thou and I shall see him dine in this bitter weather”
“Oh you have got to be kidding me!” Rodney exclaimed. “We can’t get the jumper any closer and it’s still at least four kilometres... if not more! Through snow!”
“Yeah, but there’s loads left over from the feast and... it just feels right!” John pleaded. “They could be ill, or hungry, or... I dunno...”
“Wraith worshipers with a secret lair where they radio with information!” Rodney filled in triumphantly.
“You just don’t want to get cold and wet to help someone in need,” John accused, almost, but not quite, pouting.
“I just don’t see that it’s any of our business... I mean... they could be anyone!” Rodney blushed.
John saw victory and pounced. “Rodney! I’ll... I’ll make it worth your while!”
Rodney’s pupils dilated a little. “Really? Like... you’ll.. you know...” he made an obscene gesture with his hands and John rolled his eyes. It figured that Rodney’s hands would be able to say what his mouth could not.
“Yeah... I’ll totally blow you... in your room, on my knees,” John promised huskily.
“Oh...o...okay...” Rodney shivered and powered up the jumper.
Page and Monarch, forth they went, forth they went together,
Through the rude wind’s wild lament and the bitter weather.
“Sire, the night is darker now and the wind blows stronger,
Fails my heart I know not how, I can go no longer...”
“Mark my footsteps, good my page, tread thou in them boldly,
Thou shalt find the winter’s rage, freeze thy blood less coldly.”
Woolsey was surprisingly encouraging of this charity donation and he mentioned it to other group leaders, after all, there really was a mound left over after the Christmas Feast and it would all have to be thrown away. The Athosians had already taken what they wanted and they promised to send more out to other planets they knew of.
John and Rodney filled a pack each with blankets, food, warm clothes and Rodney’s own invention that would generate heat by drawing it from the air around. If it didn’t freeze up, and as long as there was enough light to fill the batteries, it should keep them warm for the whole winter.
They landed the jumper as close to the tree line as they could, but even so, it would be a long trek in the bitter conditions. They were both in arctic gear and ready for the sub-zero temperatures, but it wasn’t long before Rodney started complaining. To John, it was like a background record, piped music that you don’t listen to, but which still invades the present, sometimes irritatingly and sometimes pleasantly.
Suddenly, though, Rodney’s voice stopped whining and took on a new note.
“Colonel.... John... I... I don’t think I can carry on... I’m...”
John turned and saw that Rodney’s face was showing panic. “Rodney? Buddy?”
“I... my suit... I think it’s malfunctioning...”
“Rodney, it’s a suit! It can’t ‘malfunction’!” John rolled his eyes, but he still steadied his friend and tried to calm him.
“It’s... Zelenka and I we, we...tinkered a bit. These ones have an Ancient device in them that controls temperature. Mine... I’m freezing!” Rodney’s teeth chattered.
John looked back at their footsteps and realised that where they had walked, the snow wasn’t just trodden in, but actually melted. In fact he really felt remarkably toasty. He pulled off a glove, wincing at the bitter bite of cold, and leaned down to feel the holes in the snow. He couldn’t get too close, though - the heat was quite fierce.
“Rodney?”
In his Master’s steps he trod, where the snow lay dinted.
Heat was in the very sod, which the saint had printed.
By the time they reached the hut where the old man was living, Rodney had thawed out a bit, but it was with huge relief that they were allowed into the living space.
It was as John had surmised. They were stranded up in the mountain after a Wraith attack many years before and now the old man, his sick wife and her ancient mother were eeking out a poor living in the trees. The things that John and Rodney had brought them would help them see out the winter and they promised that, when the snow thawed enough, they would bring a team and get them, and their possessions, down to the village to be among people again.
Later that night, back in Atlantis, Rodney refused to let John do as he had promised and, instead, gave him the ‘best blow job ever’ (Rodney’s words, although John kind of agreed) and then offered up his ass, on hands and knees for the kind of sex that John loved most.
When John had floated down from his post orgasmic haze and they were snuggling... sharing Rodney’s bed which wasn’t big enough for two men really... he had to ask.
“That was fantastic...”
“Of course!” Rodney agreed smugly.
“But... why? I thought I was supposed to....” John copied Rodney’s gesture from earlier in the day.
“Because you deserved it for being a saint... Wenceslas!” Rodney grinned.
Therefore, Christian men be sure, wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing!