Yuletide

My Christmas present to you...a small story of Dafydd and Christopher at Yuletide.

Yuletide

This is a very short companion piece to The King's Tale. If you have read that story you know of troubles that occurred with King Warin. Once he tendered his threat the Kingdom of Lysnowydh needed to be cautious any time they ventured near the border with Strasnedh. After he carried out his threat Dafydd would not leave the castle keep. I have set this little short prior to that, and because this is just a little Christmas Present I am omitting Marged from the story entirely.

'TWAS rare for Dafydd to awake before Christopher. Most mornings Christopher woke before the sun crested the horizon and crept from the bed he shared with Dafydd back to his own chamber where Alain awaited to help him dress and prepare for the day. Thus, when he woke and found himself bereft of Dafydd's warmth he was puzzled.

"Dafydd?" he called as he rose to sit up in bed.



The bed curtains were parted, and through the gap he could see that Dafydd had fed the fire as it blazed merrily in the hearth, but he was nowhere to be seen. Christopher slid from the bed and pulled his bedrobe tight around his body. He peeked into the still room, but found it also empty. He paused in the bathing chamber to relieve himself in the chamber pot set there, then continued into his own chamber. Alain waited with candles lit, and a mug of steaming grog.

"My thanks," Christopher said as he took the mug. "Have you seen Dafydd?"

Alain took the mug, then reached to remove Christopher's bedrobe. He laid it aside as he handed him fur-lined chausses.

"Aye your majesty," Alain said, reaching for a woolen shirt. "He left the keep an hour ago. The stump of last year's Yule log was loaded into the fireplace in the main hall last eve, 'twas his intention to go and bring forth a new log for this year's feast."

Christopher made a sound of irritation as he reached for the mug again. After he had drunk his fill he set it down and stretched his arms out for the furred jerkin Alain held.

"Surely the new woodsman would have been able to bring the new log, 'tis hardly Dafydd's need to trudge out through the snow." He frowned as Alain belted the jerkin around Christopher's slim hips. "Did he go alone?"

Alain waited until Christopher sat in his chair, the mug of grog in his hands again before he bent down on his knees to lace the king's boots.

"'Tis my belief your majesty that he did indeed go alone." He looked up, and his long association with the king allowed him the familiarity of a wink. "I was told he said he did not wish to share all his secrets about where to find the choicest Yule log."

Christopher sighed, yet a smile played on his lips. "'Tis like him, keeping secrets." He tipped the mug and finished the last of the grog. When he stood Alain helped him into his cloak. "I believe I will go and watch for him on the battlements that I might be in the bailey to greet him upon his return."

"Aye," Alain said, "'tis well."

The rest of this story is located at my LiveJournal...here.

Happy Holidays everyone!