"Scientific value? It's a Christmas tree with lights that appeared 
when people got into the Christmas spirit. Unless we're planning to 
research whether or not trees can be living mood rings, | fail to see 
the value." He crossed his arms. "Besides, Bailey's the one who 
brought it in. Maybe we should ask him about it?" 


"He's "out of town"," Ewell said, Christopher instantly picking up on 
the innuendo there. Dr. Partridge did not. 


"...fight." Dr. Partridge frowned. "I'll go talk to Father Plum in 


theology. Hastings, you try to talk to Sinclair again." 


"A-all right." Chris swallowed and started to head down to the occult 
studies laboratory. On the way down, he avoided Dr. Hendricks, and 
knocked on the laboratory door. Maybe they had banished it? 


Dr. Sinclair opened the door and frowned. "Ah. Hastings. What do 
you want?" 


"l-| want to consult you about E-2512. | believe some magical 
activity might be taking place in it." 


"| suppose | could be of some help," She shrugged. "Well, come in. 
We've made cookies." 


"...we? Don't tell me..." 


Sinclair held up her hands. "I haven't let him out of the testing 
chamber! I'm not an idiot! But he just conjured an oven out of 
nowhere and started making gingerbread men!" 


"...80 you actually did summon a Krampus..." 


"Yes! And he's provided a fair bit of information about Jolly Old Saint 
Nick. Absolutely fascinating— did you know he could speak five 
different languages? And he might be affiliated with Doctor Won-" 


A crackle came on from the testing chamber's communication as the 
Krampus pressed the button. "Fraulein, either let him in or don't. 
You're, as you Say, waffling.” 


Christopher frowned and entered the room, Dr. Sinclair letting him 
in. She looked him over. "So, you... wanted to talk about the tree?" 


Christopher nodded. "You found my notes on the floor, | take it?" 


"Yes, they were out of order and nonsensical. Something about a 
"Christmas curse"? Just because weird shit happens around here on 
holidays doesn't mean this place is cursed; it just means that it's a 
Nexus." 


"B-but the candles..." 


"Ah, yes, the beeswax candles. What about them?" 


"Right here-" Chris dug into his pocket to take out the sample bag 
containing single candle he had broken in two- only to find two full- 
size ones in there. "...oh dear." 


"Right..." Dr. Sinclair took the bag, and took out a candle, and broke 
it. Over the course of about a minute, two new candles formed. 
"Hydration magic, then." 


Hastings raised an eyebrow. "What does this have to do with 
water?" 


"Hydration in the sense that if you cut one, two more grow in its 
place." She made a mock salute. "Hail Hydrate!" She then let out a 
laugh, leaning against a table so she didn't fall over; as she did, she 
made the scars on her forearms noticeable. 


Christopher groaned and failed to suppress a laugh. "...one: that 
was a horrible pun. Two: that was completely unprofessional. Three: 
| am ashamed that | found that funny and got the reference, and 
four... what does this mean?" 


"| don't know. Several forms of fae, mainly leprechauns, use it to 
trick humans. And no, it's not really called 'hydration’, but it's a much 
better name than ‘duplication’, don't you think?" 


Christopher sighed. "It sucks being right, you know that? But fairies? 
Why?" 


"| dunno. We could ask Bailey when he comes back from out of 
town. Until then..." She offered a plate of cookies. "Ginger snap?" 


On the sixth day of Christmas, 87 gave to me... 


Six hours was all the sleep Tristan Bailey got that night, and with 
good reason. For one, he wasn't in his quarters at Site 87; instead, 
he was in middling-quality inn in Sloth's Pit, known as The Elk's 
Horn. For another, someone was next to him in bed. The head of the 
Department of Multi-Universal Affairs, Dr. Claire Hennessy. The 
somewhat pudgy, red-headed woman smiled at him as he woke up, 


dazzling green eyes meeting his plain brown ones. 


"Hello there, gorgeous." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "How 
are ya?" 


"Don't call me that, Claire..." Tristan smiled at his girlfriend as he sat 
up in bed. "And | couldn't be better." 


Claire sat up with him. "So," she said. "Apparently, that tree you 
brought in is causing a real stir back at the site." 


"Which is exactly why | wanted to get away from there. Among other 
reasons." 


"Oh, so I'm ‘other reasons’ now, am |?" Claire stuck out her tongue 
and got out of bed, going over to get her bathrobe on. "Seriously 
though, botany's got their head up their ass about it. Partridge is 
convinced there's scientific value in it." 


"Which is why I'm avoiding the site. Partridge is gonna grill me about 
it endlessly." 


"Partridge would grill someone about a pea pod if he was convinced 
it had "scientific value"," Claire agreed, putting on her robe. 
"Anyway. Shall we head up to the site? We need to sign the 


paperwork for the Truce universe." 


"Yeah, | guess." Tristan got out of bed and began looking for his 
clothing "...why do my trousers have blood on them?" 


"That's ketchup." 


A few hours later, the two of them drove back up to the site in 
separate cars, half an hour apart from one another. Tristan paid for 
the room with a civilian credit card, as opposed to the Foundation 
one he was issued; he had lost it anyway. When he got to the site, 
he used an entrance different from the one Claire had used, and met 
her down in Multi-Universal affairs. 


"Dr. Bailey," she said. "You're late." 


"Overslept, madam," Tristan said, adjusting his tie. "What's going 


on?" 
"Well, for one thing..." Claire smirked at him. "You have visitors." 


"Boo!" said a voice from behind. Tristan turned around and there 
were two copies of him standing by, one well-tanned and wearing a 
broad-brimmed straw hat, the other having a rather well-groomed 
goatee. 


Tristan grinned and laughed. "Tom! Trev! What the heck are you 
doing here?!" He held out his arms, and the three brothers hugged. 


"| gave myself time off for family," Tom said, "And Bright gave Trevor 
some vacation time over Christmas to visit here." 


"Wait, wait, wait." Tristan said to Trevor. "Bright the Bastardized 
actually gave someone time off?" 


"You'd be surprised what being related to our dad can do," Trevor 
said. "Anyway. Less than a week to Christmas. We got stuff to 
prepare for." 


"Yeah," Tom said. "Like... we heard you found something out 
regarding the Christmas Truce?" 


"Oh, we've got a /ot to discuss," Tristan said, grinning and heading 
off with his brothers in tow. "I've got so much new data to show you!" 


On the seventh day of Christmas, 87 gave to me... 


Seven days after the tree had manifested its anomaly, Dr. Partridge 
was grasping at straws. He was trying to think of reasons to keep it 
contained. 


"It's a good alternative to cheap Christmas decorations... no... Oh, | 
know! It's... no..." He paced back and forth in the greenhouse, while 
Chris took notes on how E-28198 was developing. 


"Sir, with all due respect," Chris said, chewing on his pen, "It's not 
even a Safe-class anomaly. At best, it's an anomalous item with 
connections to the fair folk." 


"Don't call them that, Hastings. They're Unclassed Anomalous 
Entity-Jakob-892." 


"Well, UAE-Jakob-892 has a tangential connection with it, at best, 
according to Sinclair. If | were you, I'd give it up for the time being. 
Wait until after the Holiday is done to study it." 


"...very well,” Dr. Partridge sighed. "I'll announce that Common Area 
3 is to be re-opened to the rest of the site." 


"Right," Chris stood up. "I'm going to talk with Dr. Sinclair and 
Hendricks again. See if they've made any progress." 


Dr. Partridge replied with a noncommittal "mmm", and Chris headed 
out of the greenhouse, into the abnormally warm December day. He 
made his way to basement level five, where he knocked on the door 
to Occult Studies. 


Dr. Hendricks peeked out of the door, timidly. "Oh, Hastings. Come 
in..." He opened the door, and revealed that the entire lab was 
decorated with candles just like the ones Chris had brought in the 
other day. 


Hastings stared. "What the hell..." 


"| don't know!" Sinclair said, taking down a candle. "Every time | try 
to remove them, new ones just pop up! | was kidding about the 
Hydra thing!" She took one down and doused it in water; two more 
popped up in its place. 


"Is the Krampus being of any help with this?" asked Chris. "Hell, he 
worked with the big guy in red. He must know something." 


"Actually, Mein Herr," said the Krampus from a seat near the 
entrance to the lab, "The Wonder-Worker wore brown more than 
red." 


"Oh," said Chris, before doing a double-take. "He's out of his cell?!" 


"He can't leave the lab," Hendricks assured him. "Sinclair made sure 
of that. Put some kind of a... bondage spell on him?" 


"Binding enchantment," said Sinclair, twitching slightly. "I've bound 
him to something in this room that he doesn't know about, and he 
can't be more than ten feet away from it at any time." 


"...right," Chris edged away from the Krampus. "So, endlessly- 
replicating candles, a tree that can fit inside a room smaller than it... 
but what does it all mean?" 


"We've been trying to find the source of the tree," Sinclair said. "But 
Bailey's been of no help; he's been spending all day with his 
brothers." 


"Perhaps | can talk to him," Hendricks said. "Comedy night is 
tonight. You're welcome to come if you want, Sinclair." 


"And leave this magnificent specimen-" she indicated the Krampus- 
"Unobserved? I'd rather go Fahrenheit 451 on the Library of 
Alexandria!" 


"...right," Hendricks sighed. "Well, at least it'll be good to see the 
Baileys together again." 


On the eighth day of Christmas, 87 gave to me... 


Eight wrong addresses later, they came upon the proper tree farm. 
Tristan Bailey, Christopher Hastings and Katherine Sinclair all stood 
before the Terra Incognita Tree Farm- or at least, that's what the 
sign out front claimed it was. 


The only problem is that there appeared to be no trees, nor a farm, 
and there seemed to be a distinct lack of anything incognita as well. 
Tristan frowned. "| don't get it. | know | bought it from here." 


"Looks like you got duped," Katherine sighed. "God damn it. Why 
can't we have any normal holidays in this town?" 


"We live in Sloth's Pit, Dr. Sinclair," Christopher said, breathing into 
his gloved hands. "Normal is relative, and in this town, it's a distant 
cousin five times removed that lives on Pluto." 


".,.that metaphor really got away from you, Hastings.” Tristan 


disposition of persons missing within the anomaly has been found 
on any subsequent survey. 


SCP-869 came to the Foundation's attention shortly after the 
opening of the Historic Pleasure Pier in 20 , and the 
subsequent disappearance of several park employees while 
crossing from land to the pier. To date, fifteen individuals are known 
to have become lost within SCP-869, comprising eleven civilians 
and four Foundation personnel. Refer to Document 869-332-B for a 
full accounting of surveying actions and dossiers on missing 
persons. 


+ Show Addendum 869-1 


Addendum 869-1, 7/30/1948: On Monday, July 26th, an 
individual identifying himself as Dr. presented 
himself at Site 11, bearing an otherwise apparently valid 
identification badge that does not match any individual 
currently employed by the Foundation, claiming to be a 
Foundation researcher from / ofthe year 20 . During 
debriefing, claimed that he had become stuck in the 
present day while investigating an SCP object that does 
not yet exist at this time, and had reported to the nearest 
Foundation facility in accordance with protocol. To 
corroborate his claims, he demonstrated knowledge of a 
wide variety of Foundation protocols, security 
procedures, and objects currently in containment. 
additionally made several claims regarding world events 
to occur later in the 20th century and SCP objects not 
currently known to the Foundation or not currently in 
Foundation custody. Dr. was particularly insistent 
that the Foundation should terminate an eight-year-old 
boy residing in Dallas who he claimed would assassinate 
a future president of the United States, and that under no 
circumstances should a man named "Thomas Wertham" 
be recruited by the Foundation as a researcher. Dr. 
additionally provided an SCP document, represented 
above, which he stated was the containment file for the 
anomaly responsible for his arriving in this era. 


Based on Dr. 's demonstrated knowledge of 


frowned, and stepped over the threshold to the farm, past the sign- 
and vanished. 


Sinclair started. "Shit!" 


Christopher's jaw hit the ground. "...did we just lose one of the sons 
of Tyler Bailey? Weiss is going to have our asses on a platter!" 


Tristan's head poked out of thin air; his body didn't follow. "Uh... you 
guys okay?" 


Sinclair regained her composure. "Right, just as | suspected... 
illusory magics. Well, lets... proceed!" 


Christopher coughed, which, by sheer coincidence, sounded like the 
word "bullshit". 


Tristan nodded, and vanished again. Chris and Katherine followed, 
and found themselves in a very different place from Sloth's Pit, 
Wisconsin. 


It was colder, for one, and there was actually snow. There were 
trees everywhere, ranging from five-foot-tall Douglas firs to over 100 
foot tall spruces, all of which had price tags on them. The largest 
pine tree was the size of a skyscraper, so big that the entire place 
was in the shade of it. Sinclair gaped at it. 


".,.Bailey..." 
"Yes, Sinclair?" 


"You bought a Christmas tree from a magic tree farm, and you didn't 
notice?" 


"...1 may have been s/ightly drunk at the time." 


"Ah, welcome!" a voice from nearby greeted them; turning, Chris 
saw that it was a tall, white-haired being with pointed ears. He 
looked at Tristan. The being spoke in a soft, sweet-sounding voice. 
"Ah, hello. You left your credit card here, you know." 


Sinclair and Chris stared at Tristan, who looked ashamed. "All right, 


| was plastered. | had just lost a bet with that gambling addict in 
memetics. Gimme a break!" 


"...you bet against Breaker. And lost. That... should be impossible." 
Chris rubbed his face. "That's beside the point." He looked over 
towards the elf, resisting the urge to ask if his name was Legolas. 
"...sorry, but... who are you?" 


"lam one of Alfheimr. Your friend here purchased a tree from us for 
the solstice celebration." He nodded to Tristan. "He seemed quite 
happy with the purchase, but, as he said, he was intoxicated." He 
held out a credit card to Tristan, who took it sheepishly. 


"Er, thanks. Listen, there have been some... complications with the 
tree." 


"Oh?" asked the one of Alfheimr. "Are you unhappy with the root? Is 
its enchantment not working?" 


"If by "enchantment", you mean "making its own decorations", then 
it's working perfectly fine," said Sinclair. 


"Excellent!" The elf clapped its hands together. "Then | presume you 
only returned for the credit card? Or do you wish to purchase 
more?" 


"...we're just wondering if it's safe, honestly," Chris said. "We've 
been... studying it, and..." 


"Studying?" The elf frowned. "Ah. You're one of the Foundation, 
then. And before you ask, yes, we know about you. You aren't 
terribly well-liked, you know." 


Dr. Sinclair's hand balled up, and she rubbed at the scars on her 
arm. "Look. We just want to know if something's gonna happen to 
the tree that might hurt us." 


"Nothing at all!" the elf smiled. "Unless, of course, it was within the 
vicinity of a Krampus,. We don't terribly like those things." 


Tristan and Chris stared at Katherine, who stared rubbing the back 
of her neck."Er. About that..." 


The elf stared back. "Oh by the all-father... are you serious? Well, at 
least you didn't damage it."