by
ANONYMOUS
FICSTER (Now revealed as sHaYcH)
Disclaimer: These ladies aren’t mine. Just borrowin’ ‘em for a
brief bit of
storytelling levity. Please
enjoy. Do not fold,
spindle or mutilate the writer,
as I am broke and do not taste so great with ketchup.
Assumptions,
presumptions and other umptuous words:
This story presumes that Xena and Gabrielle are lovers. This story also presumes
that somehow,
Gabrielle was able to revive Xena the Soul Savior of Japan and return
her to
the state of being also known as life.
Of course, Gabrielle is just thrilled to have her honey
buns back, and
Xena’s just as thrilled not to have to smell one more demonic fart. Those things really stink,
you know?
~*~*~
It
was a clear, cool day, full of the kind of rare sunshine that makes winter
mornings gleam like a thousand jewels.
Three companions slowly meandered their way up a road,
their breath
painting foggy patches in the air before them.
“Brr. I’ve never
seen it so cold without
a recent snowfall, Xena,” Gabrielle commented as she rubbed her arms. Dressed warmly in a long
patchwork coat, heavy
brown tunic and thick linen breeches, the bard still shivered
involuntarily.
Stopping
to rub down the horse’s quivering flank, Xena
grunted brusquely in
agreement. The
warrior’s clothes were as
warm as the bard’s – heavy tunic, leather breeches
and a fur cloak were
worn in place of her usual battle dress.
“I
hope
we find a town soon,” Xena said as soon as Argo was
ready to walk
again. “Argo’s so cold,
she’s
barely able to keep moving, and I really don’t want to see her founder.”
“Do
you want to drape her in our bedroll?
I can stand a little horsiness if
it’ll make her warmer,”
Gabrielle said, moving to untie their roll of blankets.
A
thin smile creased the warrior’s mouth. “Sure, can’t hurt.” Together,
they wrestled with knots
stiffened by cold, untying and unrolling the blankets.
Argo’s ears twitched as the two women settled
the blankets over her flanks, but otherwise, she did not move.
Almost
immediately, there was a change.
Argo let out a pleased whuff of air and whickered lightly,
as if
thanking them.
“Guess
that did the trick,” Gabrielle said, smiling slightly.
Wish I could be so easily warmed.
I am so looking forward to a warm inn and a
soft bed tonight.
“I
guess so,” Xena replied, reaching out to ruffle the bard’s
short blonde
hair. “Thanks. Guess I forget sometimes
that fur isn’t everything.”
She’s really cold.
I hope this next town has something more than
a taproom and a weak fire.
Gabrielle
patted the warrior’s stomach lightly.
“It’s okay, Argo forgives you,” the
bard said in a syrupy tone,
trying to look as serious as possible.
“Ha-ha,
funny, Gabster,” Xena replied evenly, tilting her
head down until
her nose brushed the bard’s. “Real,
real,”
she licked tip of Gabrielle’s nose, earning a squawk of surprise,
“funny.” Chuckling
wickedly as the bard
clapped her hands over her nose and began rubbing it furiously, Xena
winked at
Argo, who was observing the proceedings with her usual indifferent patience.
“Ew! Ewww! Xena!
Ew! That was my nose you just put your
tongue on!” The
bard was still rubbing her nose, making
goofy faces that the warrior was hard pressed not
to laugh at.
Xena
shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah,
I knew
that. Doesn’t take
a warrior princess to
recognize a bardic nostril.” I’m
not
going to laugh. I
swear, I’m not
going to laugh.
Gabrielle
glared at Xena. Xena
only raised one
dark eyebrow as if to say, ‘go ahead, I dare
ya’. The bard
rolled her eyes, sighed and turned
away to begin walking down the road once more.
“Heh. Xena: one; bard: zero,”
Xena
whispered, then began to whistle a jaunty tune.
I got you, babe, the
warrior thought as a smirk rippled
across her face.
“I
heard that, warrior princess. Don’t
plan
the victory celebration yet,” Gabrielle called back
warningly. She
got me! Again!
That’s twice in one week!
Who
would have thought that she’d be so into joking
around?
“Oh,
I wouldn’t dream of it,” Xena
replied lightly. The
warrior’s smile grew larger as she
imagined a cloud of fog around Gabrielle’s head growing bigger, as if
steam
were venting out of the bard’s ears.
Hmm,
cute, shapely, sweet little ears that I’m going to spend all night
nibbling
on... she mused, as her smile took on a decidedly wicked
edge.
As
they traveled, the day warmed by increments, and though their breath
still
wreathed visibly around their faces, it was not as thick
a fog.
“I
need new mittens,” Gabrielle complained sourly, rubbing her hands
together to
try and chafe some warmth into them.
“My
fingertips are numb.”
Xena
stopped and took the bard’s hands into hers, kissing the cold
extremities
softly. “Better?”
she asked, smiling as
she looked down into Gabrielle’s half-closed eyes.
“Mm,
yeah, much,” the bard murmured, leaning into Xena’s warmth.
“Good,”
the warrior replied, letting go of her lover.
Gabrielle
let out a shriek of outraged surprise as she staggered into Argo’s
flank. “Ooo, Xena!
You insensitive beast!”
She tackled the warrior, knocking her down.
They rolled about on the cold ground, laughing and tickling each other senseless, until they were both breathless.
“Whew,”
Gabrielle said, standing and brushing herself off.
“That’s one way to warm up,” she finished,
reaching her hand out to help the taller woman stand.
“Works
for me,” Xena said nonchalantly as she unlimbered their waterskin from
Argo’s
pack. Thoughtfully,
she weighed it
before drinking. At
the rate we’re
sucking up this water, we’ll need to find a stream
if we don’t reach a
town soon, Xena mused as she sipped slowly.
“Drink?” she offered, as they started walking again.
“Sure,”
the bard replied, accepting the skin.
With deft hands, Gabrielle squirted the last of their
water into her
mouth. “Damn, I’m
sorry. I’ll dip
next time,” the bard said as she
handed the empty skin back to Xena.
Xena
shrugged it off. “When
you thirst,
drink, Gabrielle.”
“I
know, I know,” the bard said. “It’s
one
of the first things you taught me about the trail, Xe.
I just didn’t want to seem like a little piggy.”
Xena
gave the bard a long, lingering look, letting her gaze follow
Gabrielle’s every
curve. “Small chance
of that,
love. It’s no worry. We’ll either find a town
or I’ll go find us a
stream. Either way,
we’ll have plenty of
water.”
“You
know something, Xena? You
can be rather
useful sometimes,” Gabrielle said offhandedly as they wandered down the
road.
“I
try,” Xena replied dryly.
They
had walked for another five miles when suddenly,
Gabrielle stopped and
put up a hand. “Hey,
Xena, do you hear
what I hear? “ They had just crested a rise
and were looking down on
the beginnings of a small village.
“Yeah,
sounds like a real party,” Xena replied.
The
bard shook her head ruefully, and laughed.
“Well, at least it’s not yelling, and screaming.”
“You
got that right. I
need a vacation,”
the warrior quipped.
“A
vacation, you? Now
why would you
say that?” Gabrielle asked, slipping her arm into Xena’s as they headed
for the
village.
“Oh,
I dunno – death, resurrection, death, resurrection,
death... sensing a
pattern here, dear?” Xena’s tone was light and teasing, but Gabrielle
could
sense an underlying tension.
“Mm,
could be. Or maybe
it’s just that
someone’s trying to tell you something,” Gabrielle
suggested
lightly. Hug
your sweetie, Gabrielle.
She’s feeling each
and every one of
those resurrections today.
The stray
thought caught the bard off guard, but looking into her lover’s eyes,
she
realized that it was true.
Xena
pondered that one for a moment before shaking her head.
“Naw, I’ve been losing my religion for
so long now that I doubt anyone out there would bother
trying to talk
to me.” The
warrior’s shoulders
drooped just slightly.
“There’s
always Aphrodite,” Gabrielle said warmly as she
wormed her way under
Xena’s arm and gave her a snuggle.
“She
likes talking to us.”
“No,
Gabrielle. She
likes talking to
you. I’m sure she’d
rather not have to deal
with ‘tall, dark and deadly’ any more.”
Xena held no illusions about how the goddess
of love felt
about her. But
then, she supposed she wouldn’t
like herself much either, if she’d been the one responsible
for the
deaths of most of her immediate family, as well as several distant
cousins. Being a
godslayer did that to a
person, you know.
“Oh, don’t be such a pooh-pooher Xe. Tell you what, next temple we see, I’ll go in and ask her,” the bard promised, giving the taller woman a sturdy hug. “Believe me, it’s true,” she whispered. “Aphrodite doesn’t hate you.”
Xena
pulled the bard against her tightly, kissing the top of her head. I only hope
you’re right, my love. It
took Argo turning to her mistress
with a reproachful look and a soft whicker before Xena murmured, “Shall
we get
going? I can hear a
warm bath calling
our names, followed closely by the familiar voices
of the soft bed and the
hot meal.”
Gabrielle
cocked her head toward the village and listened.
“Nah,” she said after a moment.
“It’s just the partiers.”
Xena
laughed and they made their way into the village.
~*~*~
The
entire community was festooned as if for a festival.
From every eave, fence post and tree hung a
myriad of brightly colored bits of twisted fabrics, and ropes of
sparkling
beads. Wreathes of
woven branches graced
every door and every other bit of free space was
taken up by tinkling,
chiming and jingling bells of every shape and size.
Even
the animals were adorned. Collars
and
harnesses dripped with tiny silver ornaments shaped like little stars.
Only
one building stood out from the chaotic blizzard of festivity – the inn. Set off to the side of the
road, with not
even a single candle’s flame glowing in the window, the sturdy
two-story
building seemed almost deserted. A
sign
tacked to the front proclaimed that the place was the Cracked Kettle,
and that
Fyne Spyryts could be had within.
From
the center of the village, the women could hear the
strains of brightly
cheerful music and laughter.
By
silent consent, they passed up the inn in favor of seeking out the people. It didn’t take long to
find them, laughing
and dancing joyously in the village square.
The entire town appeared to be a part of celebration. Groups of four to six
dancers formed a spinning
wheel and each wheel turned and spun around the others gaily. Along the edges of the
square were vendors
from all over the known world, hawking everything from raw wool to fine
parchment.
Oh
boy, shopping,
Xena thought dryly as she and Gabrielle passed several older women as
they
roamed the merchant’s row. Betcha
I’m
gonna have to dig out the dinars later.
“Pardon
me, but, what are you doing?” Gabrielle asked a young man who
stepped out
of one circle of dancers to catch his breath.
“Why,
we’re celebrating, of course,” the teenager replied, blinking in surprise. “You’re free to join us.”
“Celebrating
what?” Xena asked. There
were so many
different decorations in the village, she couldn’t tell if they were
about
ready to sacrifice a twin headed goat to Odin or sing
paeans to
Hestia.
“The
twelve days of Christmas!” the villager replied promptly,
smiling
brightly. “There’s
only three days
left.”
“Until?”
Gabrielle drawled the word slowly, smiling prettily.
Cocking
his head to the side, the man patiently said, “Why until Santa Claus
comes and
brings us snow. There
must be snow for
the kids to play in or it will not be winter.”
Xena’s
eyebrows shot up and she quickly asked, “Is Santa Claus some new god
or
something?
The
young man’s gaze slipped down the warrior’s body and landed on her
chakram with
an almost audible thump. Swallowing
heavily, he said, “Oh no, no, no.
Santa’s not a god. He’s
just a,
guy, who, um, you know, comes once a year and dumps a bunch of snow on
us. Sometimes, he
um, even, brings neat things to
the kids. Toys,
clothes and the
like.”
“How
nice of him,” Xena remarked drolly.
“I
suppose he does all this for a modest fee?”
“I,
um, he’s never charged anything that I know of,”
the youth said
helplessly. Just
then, a young woman’s
voice called out.
“Fidello,
come dancing!”
Gabrielle
caught sight of a curly haired, apple-cheeked girl who had both hands
on her
hips and one foot tapping along with the beat of
the music.
“Be
right there, Elda, my sweet,” he called back. Nodding politely at Xena
and Gabrielle,
Fidello turned and jumped into the circles of dancers, executing a neat
twist
and slide maneuver.
“Hey,
that was pretty good. I
should see if I
could use that sometime. Might
work well
for a disemboweling motion,” Xena muttered softly. Gabrielle only rolled her
eyes. The warrior
nodded to herself. “Jump,
then the twist, followed
by a long slash and slide, yeah, that’d work,” she murmured
thoughtfully.
“Why
don’t we go see about stabling and a room?
I’m a little bit hungry and I bet
Argo’d really like to get out
of the cold,” Gabrielle suggested, taking one of the warrior’s hands
and
tugging her away from the town square.
Still
working out the new move in her head, Xena calmly
allowed herself to be
led back to the inn.
After
Argo was seen to, the women settled inside the Kettle’s dim, chilly
taproom, waiting
for service. Xena
actually allowed a
full quarter candlemark to pass before searching
out the innkeeper.
No
one
was
behind the counter, so she slipped under the bar and headed for a
doorway
outlined in the pale glow of lamplight.
The warrior stopped just outside of
the door and listened. From
inside, she could hear the
rhythmic sounds of dough being kneaded.
“This
must be where the owner’s hiding out,” she muttered
to herself, and
pushed in the door.
Warmth
and light spilled out of the room.
Xena
stood in the doorway and observed the interior.
Standing in the room, staring morosely at a table full of
rising bread
dough, was a thin, pale woman whose dark circles
had dark circles. The
warrior cleared her throat noisily.
“Excuse
me, but we’d like –“
She
was rudely cut off. “Sorry,
no vacancy,
no ale and no food today,” the woman said, her voice barely louder than
a
whisper.
Taken
aback, Xena frowned. “Your
common room
is bare, your stable is empty and you’ve a table
full of food. Don’t
turn me away before I can show
you the color of my money.”
The
woman shrugged listlessly. “I’m
the
owner of this place and I say there’s no room at the inn. Now get
out!” The first
real emotion the warrior had
seen from the innkeeper erupted with extreme vengeance
in her final
statement.
“Wait
just a mark here lady,” Xena said, stepping into the room. “I don’t want to argue,
but we’re
paying customers, not some drifters come to wreck
your taproom. We’ve
got good dinars to trade for a room,
stabling and meals.” The
warrior’s voice
was soft and even, yet there was an underlying edge that made the
innkeeper
look up and meet Xena’s gaze.
Pale,
colorless eyes met cerulean blue.
“I
said, there’s no vacancy. I
don’t do
holidays. There’s
nothing here to deck
the halls, and no place for you to do it either. This is my time,
warrior. Now
please, go.”
Time
for a strategic retreat, warrior, before you get
angry too. Seeing no other
alternative, Xena turned and
stomped out of the kitchen. “C’mon
Gabrielle. We’ll
have to find our shelter
elsewhere. The
inn’s closed for self
pity.”
“Do
you want me to see if I can do something?”
Gabrielle asked softly
as she stood. “See
if I can’t sweeten
the deal?” And
I really don’t feel
like going back out into that cold, either.
Xena
shrugged indifferently. Taking
the
bait again, love. You
know I hate the
sensitive stuff. “Dunno. She’s pretty much all
gloom, doom, and leave
me to my little room. I’m
not sure that
soft and fluffy’s going to make her any more likely to let us stay,
love. I’m sure one
of the villagers
would be more than happy to let us sleep in their
barn.”
Gabrielle
looked at Xena, turned a longing eye to the stairs that led up to the
second
floor and then looked back at her lover.
“Give me a shot at least, hmm, Xe?
I’d really like that bed.”
All
right, I’ll do the sensitive thing, honey.
The bard’s eyes sparkled merrily.
“Whatever
you want, love.” Xena
gestured toward
the kitchen. Thanks, love.
I owe
you one. “She’s
in there. Waify
sort with colorless eyes. Can’t
miss her. I’m just
going to sit here, and brood.” Fitting
actions to words, Xena slid back into
the chair, set her feet on the table and crossed her legs. Adopting an appropriately
morose expression,
the warrior folded her hands behind her head and settled in to wait.
Gabrielle
chuckled, ruffled her lover’s hair and headed for
the kitchen. The
door was still slightly ajar, so she
knocked on the frame, catching the attention of the woman inside.
“Go
away. No
vacancy,” came the sullen,
toneless response.
“That’s
what you told my partner,” Gabrielle said as she walked into the room. “But I really wanted to
talk to you.” She
favored the woman with a sunny
smile. “You see,
it’s really cold out
there, and we’ve been traveling for quite some time.
We’d really like to stay here, please?”
The
woman silently eyed the bard as she spoke. The day candle burned for
a long while before
the woman said, “I don’t want anybody around right now.
It’s a bad time for me.”
A
puzzled
look crossed Gabrielle’s face.
“Really? I’d
think with the
festival...” Here
fishy, fishy,
fishy. Take the
nice bait now, please.
“I
don’t do the festival,” the woman barked, her voice taking on shades of
feelings
that had been lacking before. She
shuddered involuntarily. “My
grandma
got run over by a reindeer at one of these crazy festivals.”
“Gee,
that’s kind of a drag,” Gabrielle admitted. “How long ago
was it?”
“Ten
winters ago,” the woman replied acidly.
“I’ve mourned her for ten long winters and I’ll do it for
ten more if I
feel like it. Now
please, just leave.”
Oh gods, not the dreaded ten
winters curse.
Oy, Gabrielle. Time
to whip out some bardic magic.
The bard
whipped out her super-duper, extra friendly, bursting with mega-watts,
dimply
smile. The one that
endeared her to
children and goddesses of love and had the power to make even the
evilest of
warlords turn into puddles of mush.
“Well, you know,” she turned up the wattage, “maybe it’s
time for you to
let the past be the past.
Go
with the flow, and get into the now of things. I mean, it is
a holiday celebration
out there.
Lots of people who look like they have plenty of money
to spend
on good food, good drink...” the bard let her voice fall into a
cadence,
lulling the woman with her words.
The
innkeeper drew in a
single, shuddering breath. Gabrielle
stepped closer to her, reached her hand out and
laid it on the woman’s
shoulder. “It
really is okay to let it go.
I’m sure she would understand,” she
whispered.
“Gramma!”
the innkeeper
wailed sadly, collapsing in the bard’s arms.
Tears quickly soaked the fabric of Gabrielle’s tunic as
the woman
sobbed. “Why’d you
have to go hunting on
Christmas eve, grammy, why? Santa
needs
all his reindeer,” the woman whispered brokenly.
Not
knowing anything else
to do, Gabrielle just held the woman and let her cry.
~*~*~
That
they were allowed to
stay at the inn was a given. The
fact
that their stay was free was a bonus that both women were only too
happy to
accept. As flush as
they were with cash
now, each knew that somewhere along the road, they
would need those
extra dinars.
Added
to their bounty was
all the oven fresh, dripping with seasoned olive
oil bread that they
could stomach, as well as warm baths and the promise of a hearty stew
for
supper. All of this
was pressed upon
them by an overly grateful, somewhat embarrassed innkeeper named Hilda.
The
woman had cried for
nearly a candlemark, but when she was finished, she had stood, wiped
her face
and solemnly thanked the bard for her forbearance.
Gabrielle had only smiled and offered the
innkeeper a gentle hug.
In
the morning, Xena and
Gabrielle found the innkeeper buried up to her knees in piles and piles
of
ancient holiday decorations.
“So
this is what you do
for the holidays around here?” Xena asked sardonically as she helped
Hilda scoop
up a pile of garland and dump it onto an empty table.
“Yes,
of course. The
bright decorations draw the attention of
Santa’s favorite elves,” Hilda explained patiently.
“Then they send the snow and keep track of
which children are good and which ones are bad. The bad children get
stones in their
stockings while the good children get toys and new clothes and
sometimes, coal
for their fires.”
“That’s
similar to what we
heard yesterday,” Xena said as she sat down at
another table.
“Yes,
we also heard that
there was a special Christmas festival happening right
here, right
now, and that there were just three days left,” Gabrielle
added as she
gathered a handful of decorations and began untangling them.
Hilda
smiled sadly. “The
snow must be pretty thick out there,
then. I’m sorry I
was so bestial to you,
yesterday.”
“Snow? There’s no snow out
there,” Xena said
bluntly. “Is there
supposed to be?” Her
eyes narrowed suspiciously. Her
butt
kicking alarm went off and she got ready to put on the warrior
princess attitude.
“No
snow? But, there’s
always snow!” Hilda jumped up
and ran to the door, throwing it open.
Outside was clear and very cold, but not one flake of snow
drifted
inside. “Oh, this
is bad. This is
very bad. The
children will be so sad if there isn’t a white
Christmas.”
The
rapid fire
popping of knuckles cracking filled the common room. “So, I take it that this
is an unusual situation?”
Xena asked, as she stood, drew her sword and gave it a practice twirl. There was a gleeful, feral
grin spreading on
the warrior’s face as she worked the blade around her in flashing,
metallic
arcs.
Hilda,
mesmerized,
only nodded.
“Well
then, I do believe
I hear that shouting and screaming you were missing
yesterday,
Gabrielle.” The
women exchanged gazes –
Xena’s anticipatory and Gabrielle’s amused. “Shall we?”
The warrior indicated the door.
“We
shall,” Gabrielle
replied, taking up her staff. “Keep
decorating, Hilda. We’ll
look into the
missing snow.”
“Okay,”
Hilda agreed as
the two women stalked out into the daylight. “Who’d steal our snow?”
the innkeeper
wondered as she shut the door.
In another realm, parallel
to Xena’s Ancient
Greece, but not quite a part of it.
“Mm,
I just love fresh
snow cones, don’t you, Cerby?” Ares said as he took a big bite of a
brightly
colored pile of flavored ice. Cerebus,
his favorite dog, only whined happily as he chomped his way through a
monstrous
bowl of the stuff. “Yeah,
the humans’ll
never miss this stuff. Who
needs a
buncha snow anyway?”
Cerebus
growled softly.
“Of
course, we do!” the
god laughed. “Snow
cones, slushies, and
snowball fights are just a few of my favorite things!”
“Rah-roo!”
one of Cerebus’
heads barked in agreement.
“Of
course, I also enjoy a
good disemboweling, beheading and who doesn’t love to watch the Romans crucify
people? Not me,
that’s for sure!” Ares
threw back his head and laughed
uproariously.
Back in Greece.
Xena
and Gabrielle stood
outside of the temple doors.
Gabrielle looked up at her lover and smirked impishly. “Guess I’ll get the chance
to ask sooner
rather than later,” she said as she pushed open the door to Aphrodite’s
abode.
“You
don’t have to,” Xena
protested softly as they entered.
“Of
course I do, Xe. I
promised and a promise is a
promise,” the bard replied tartly.
Inside,
the small, but
lavishly appointed temple reeked of expensive incense.
Xena coughed at the overpowering smell, but
did not say anything.
“Hello? Aphrodite?
Can we talk?” Gabrielle called out softly.
In
a glimmering shimmer
of sparkling motes of light, the beautiful goddess
appeared. “Gabs!
By myself honey, it’s been too long. Don’t you look so
deliciously winterlicious
in that coat.” The
goddess and the bard
embraced warmly.
Xena
coughed again. You
know, I love ‘Dite, I really do,
but sometimes she’s just a little too friendly for me.
Especially when it comes to my bard!
“Oh
and hey, it’s tall,
dark and deadly. Xena,
you’re looking
marvelously murderous today,” said Aphrodite as she looked over the
warrior’s
leather and fur outfit. “Near
barbaric,
in fact.” She
considered the warrior’s
appearance for a long moment. “You
know,
I think that I might like it, but really, my favorite is that lovely
little two
piece number you got in Jappa. Any
chance you could model it for me?”
The
blonde goddess batted her eyelashes prettily.
“It’s
ashes,
Aphrodite. I was
cremated in it,” Xena
replied evenly.
Aphrodite
clapped her
hands to her mouth. “Oh,
that’s
right. I forgot. How silly of me. Well then, now that the
pleasantries are
done, what’d you bring me from Jappa?”
She looked at the women expectantly.
“Come on, I know you brought me something, so I’ll
be good and
close my eyes – I promise I won’t peek...” she closed her eyes almost all
the way, “too much, at least.”
Gabrielle’s
laughter
filled the temple. “Yes,
‘Dite, I found
something for you.” The
bard rummaged
around in her satchel for a moment and then withdrew a single round
cake of a
dark material. Reverently,
the bard
handed it to the goddess.
Aphrodite’s
eyes snapped
open. Inquisitively,
she looked at the
cake, which was pressed into a palm-sized circle and embossed with a
strange,
curving design. It
was slightly flaky
and very aromatic. The
blonde goddess
brought it up to her nose and inhaled.
“My, that smells divine, Gabs.
What is it? Soap?”
“Tea, Aphrodite. That is one full cake of Golden Dragon Tears. I’m told it’s a delicacy,” the bard said. She did not mention the fact that she had taken it from the body of one very, very dead ronin. Just the thought of him sent chills of remembered anger over her. It’s over, Gabrielle. She’s not dead and he is, and that’s all that you have to worry about.
“It’s
a lovely gift and I
shall enjoy it always,” the goddess promised. “Now, what brings you two
here?” Aphrodite
meandered around her temple,
perusing her offerings absently.
“There’s no snow,” Xena said succinctly as she rubbed watering eyes. What the hell do you call this mishmash of odiferous odors? Essence of temple? Bah, more like stench of Hades!
“Well,
bully for
you,” the goddess said. “I’m
guessing
the roads are mondo easy right now.”
“That
may be,” Xena said,
“but this town relies on its yearly snowfall to mark the passage of one
of
their holidays.”
“Christmas,
I know,” the
goddess said, nodding quickly, making her curls bounce
prettily. “It’s
always so much of a blast. On
the twelfth day of Christmas, there’s toys
and dancing and feasting and an ice sculpture contest... I always enjoy
this
place. It’s almost
like going home
for the holidays.”
Gabrielle
smiled warmly. “Well,
it hasn’t snowed
around here for four weeks, ‘Dite.
Do
you have any idea why?”
“No,
I don’t think so,” Aphrodite replied absently as she fingered a bunch
of dried
flowers.
“Is
there anyone you can ask?” Gabrielle suggested.
The
goddess laughed. “You
mean like
Santa? What should
I do, hop a wave to
the North Pole and knock three times on the door to
his workshop and say
something like, ‘Heya Santa baby, can you like,
make it snow?”
Xena
rolled her eyes. “No,
‘Dite. We’d just
like a little hint – a direction to
go. Are you sure
you don’t know who
might have taken the snow?”
“Well, I...” the goddess
chewed on her lower
lip thoughtfully. “Hmm. No, it couldn’t be. He should have gotten his
fill by now...”
“Who
should have?” Xena asked darkly.
Aphrodite
made a moue. “I
think you can
guess. He’s tall,
dark and deadly – kind
of like you, only more into the leather.”
Xena
rolled her eyes. “You
two chit
chat. I need
to go find me a god
and kick his ass.”
“Should
I watch?” Gabrielle asked, her eyes sparkling merrily.
“Nah,
you’ve seen me do it so many times I’m sure that you could call out the
moves
blindfolded,” Xena said, stepping up to give her lover a hug and a
brief, but
fierce kiss. “I’m
not planning
anything new this time, he seems to fall for the same double flip and
strike
trick every time, anyway.”
“Okay,
but hurry back. That
bazaar out there is
just calling my name. I
need to shop,
Xe,” Gabrielle said, shaking a finger at the warrior.
“I’m almost out of ink.”
Xena
groaned.
Aphrodite
perked. “Shopping? Like, for presents? For me?”
“For
all of those that I care about,” Gabrielle assured the goddess. “And maybe for some
decorations. I’m
not so sure that Hilda’s are going to
make it in time.” The
bard briefly
described the tangled mess of things that the
innkeeper had strewn about
her common room.
“Bells,”
the goddess said. “You
should buy her
some jingle bells.
Jingle
bells rock.”
“Of
course. We’ll have
plenty of bells –
with all the bells that are in the village, you’ll be able to hear the carol
of the bells for miles.”
“Oo,
I wonder if I can ring them bells?” Aphrodite mused
impishly, stroking
her chin with her thumb and forefinger.
~*~*~
Xena
stepped out of Aphrodite’s temple and jogged into the woods. When she felt that she was
far enough from
the village, she stopped, caught her breath and called out, “All right
you
worthless lightening slinger, get your butt out here or I’ll have your chestnuts
roasting on an open fire!”
The warrior
projected her voice both inward and outward, visualizing her old
nemesis as she
shouted.
It
took only moments for him to respond.
Wildlife scattered as a brilliant flash of light filled
the forest
glade. Reality bent,
tearing open
a hole large enough for Ares to appear directly in front of Xena.
“You
rang, my sweetness?” he murmured sexily, oozing up
to the warrior. Now
here is someone I’d gladly trade all
of my snow cones for, forever.
Xena
eyed the god. His
face and chest were
glistening wetly with a pinkish substance. “No, I called, you came. Now, clean yourself up and
listen good. You’re
hogging the snow. Give
it up or I’ll teach you how to sing in a
whole new octave,” Xena said, her eyes flashing darkly.
Ares
smiled gamely, licked his lips sensuously and said, “Xena, Xena, Xena,
I just
love it when you talk dirty to me.”
“I
don’t have time to play around, Ares.
This town needs the snow – go fetch yours elsewhere,”
Xena ground
out from between her teeth.
“Or? Come on Xena, hit
me with your best shot,”
the god taunted.
“Ares...”
Xena growled. Then,
the warrior
moved. Faster than
the wind, she stepped
into Ares’ personal space and shoved her sword up under his chin. “I said, I don’t have time
for this.” Two
gazes locked as a battle of wills ensued.
A
heartbeat
later, Ares looked away. “Damn
it,
Xena,” he growled and his body flickered as he used his powers to move
away
from her. “You know
what that does to
me.”
Xena
smirked. “Yes,” she
purred, “I do. Do I
look like I care?”
The
god cupped his chin thoughtfully, appraising the warrior. “Come with me, Xena and
I’ll go anywhere you
tell me to,” he offered sincerely.
“And then this place can have all the snow it wants.”
Once
again, Xena stepped toward the god, menace oozing from her posture. “Ares,” she snarled,
lowering the blade to
belt level. “I
think we’ve had this
discussion before...”
The
saturnine god blanched and began to back away.
“Now, wait a minute here, Xena.
Let’s talk about this...”
The
warrior’s sword inched closer to the god’s belt.
Ares swallowed convulsively.
Yeah, he could probably fight her.
He might even beat her, but one thing for
sure was the fact that by the time he was done throwing his favorite
warrior
around, she would be extremely pissed off and every last drop of his
double
cherry-pineapple-mocha snow cone would be melted.
Maybe I should just pretend to have
mercy on this backwater little place?
And then, when they least expected it, bam! Slide in and steal all
their excess
snow. Yeah, that’s
it. I’ll just let
her have some now, and take it
all back when she’s gone...
“Meanie! There he is, get him!” Tiny voices
echoed through the
forest. Suddenly,
the god was pelted by
dozens of large, wet globs of thick, viscous mud.
Stunned by the surprise attack, Ares could
only stand there while the wet earth dribbled from his body.
“Take
that, you snow hogging meanie!” One of the voices called, pegging Ares
in the
face with a particularly large clump of mud.
“Hey!”
Ares said, flashing from one side of Xena to the other.
“Stop that this instant!” He got hit again. “Do you have any clue
who I am, you crazy
little bastards?” Sparks
fizzled
from his clenched fist.
Tittering
laughter echoed all around him. More
mudballs peppered the air, liberally coating the god.
Roaring
with anger, Ares threw lightening bolts all around him, flattening
several
trees and scorching a bush or two.
Conveniently, he avoided hitting Xena.
Not even a good temper tantrum was worth blackening her
hide. Angry bard
was not something that even the
god of war was keen to handle today.
“You
know, if it was snowing, it’d be snow they were hitting you with, not
mud,”
Xena pointed out solemnly, though a smile tried to fight its way onto
her face.
Ares
rolled his eyes. “No,
it’s mine, all
mi-glurk!” A well
timed mudball caught
the god with his mouth wide open.
Spitting and coughing, he snapped his fingers twice. “Fine!
You win. Let
it snow! I
won’t stop it anymore.”
“Yay!”
tiny voices cheered. Suddenly,
the
forest was full of little people running, jumping, laughing and dancing.
Xena’s
eyes bugged out at the sight of the elves.
Each was dressed in a green tunic, green hose and green
cap. Tiny,
curly-toed shoes decorated their feet
and each of the little people carried an instrument.
Even the smallest of them carried tiny drums.
Ares
growled at the elves. Fastening
his eyes
on one of them, he stepped toward it.
“Hey,
you – little drummer boy – yeah, you.
Move, kid, before I turn your sticks into charcoal.” The god of war glared at
the elven child
until he burst into tears and ran to hide behind the trees. Ares smirked.
“Yep, still the biggest bully on the block.”
“Oh
yeah, that’s you, Ares. Notorious. Get outta here before I
sic my girlfriend on
you.” Xena sheathed
her sword and began
cleaning her nails with her breast dagger.
Ares
sighed. “If you
could just see your way
clear of that whole girlfriend thing and come back to me, Xena. I swear, I’d be so good to
you...”
The
warrior sighed. “Not
a chance,
Ares. I’m done with
that life, too many
times over now.” She
looked into Ares’
eyes and smiled wryly. “Go
home, enjoy
what’s left of your snow and cuddle up with Cerebus,” Xena said without
rancor.
“After
I bathe,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the mud that still liberally
stained
his clothes. In a
flash, he was gone,
leaving a large pile of mud behind.
“Well, that was easy. Thanks for the help guys,” the warrior said, addressing the frolicking elves. “I could have handled him, but it was nice not to have to get all sweaty.”
“Our pleasure,” one of the elves piped up shyly.
“Great
fun,” said another.
“Oh
yes, wonderful, wonderful. Now
there
will be snow for the children,” chimed in a third.
Xena
smiled as the three elves tumbled and danced around her. “So, who are you guys,
anyway?”
“I’m
Noel the third,” piped one impish little man as he pirouetted on the
tip of his
toes.
“And
I’m Noel the second,” said another, doffing his cap and grinning a
gap-toothed
smile that made the warrior chuckle.
“Which
makes me,” said a third, slightly taller and much heftier elf, “the
first
Noel.” He
executed a deep, back
breaking bow.
“We’re the Snow Noels,” the three said in unison.
“We make the snow for Christmas,” Noel the first said proudly, indicating the other elves who were still celebrating their victory.
“Well,”
said the third Noel, “at least until his big meanieness came along.”
“But
it’s okay now, because you helped us make him stop,” said the second
Noel.
“And
now we can do our jobs,” added the third Noel.
He turned to Xena and said, “We’d like to stay and play,
but we have
work to do. There’s
so much to catch up
on, you know.”
“But
wait... what about Santa Claus?” Xena asked.
“I thought he made the snow?”
Noel
the third smiled mysteriously. “There
is
no Santa, warrior. Only
the generosity
of parents and friends. Santa
is
everyone.”
“Of
course,” said the warrior numbly as, suddenly, the forest was no longer
filled with elves, but with flurries of snow.
~*~*~
Gabrielle
and Aphrodite were power shopping.
Merchants from far away had come to this little village to
peddle their
wares and Gabrielle was bound and determined to
find something special
for Xena.
In
the middle of the shopping trip, the two women stumbled upon a garishly
dressed
young man.
“Hello,
ladies. I am
Percilious and I am a
professional shopper, and I guarantee that no loved one is too
difficult for me
to please with a gift,” the youth declared proudly.
Gabrielle
had instantly snagged the man’s arm.
“You’re hired. I’ve
got to find a
gift for an ex warlord with redemption issues and a
penchant for
resurrection, got any ideas?”
Percilious
rubbed his goatee thoughtfully. “Hmm,
that’s a toughie, but not impossible.”
He linked his arms with the bard and the goddess. “Now, shall we raid this
bazaar?”
Aphrodite
laughed, a marvelous tinkling sound.
“I
like him already.”
They
stopped at a booth that was filled with bolts and bolts of exotic
fabrics. Aphrodite
was instantly entranced by
reams of whisper thin silk while Gabrielle was
drawn to a heavy emerald
brocade. Percilious
pranced through the
entire booth, holding up one bit of cloth after another.
“Holidays
in color – so much more entertaining, don’t you think?” Percillious
asked,
holding up one vibrantly hued piece of fabric after another. “Green, pink, orange, ah,
here we are!” He
draped his find over his shoulder and
strutted up to the bard. “Isn’t
a blue
Christmas just my color?”
She
laughed and shook her head. “I
dunno,
Percilious, I kind of liked that purple one,” she said, touching the
fabric
that was a pale echo of her lover’s eyes.
He
sighed and let the fabric drop to the table.
“Ah well. Another
holiday, I
suppose. Now, let’s
see about your
warrior friend, shall we?”
He
meandered away from the fabric and over to the weaponsmith.
~*~*~
“A
story! Tell us a
story, will you Bard
Gabrielle?” one of the children in the crowd called
out.
Xena
had returned and with her came the snow.
After telling the bard what had happened, the two lovers
had
spent an afternoon browsing the wares of the marketplace. Though she had been asked
to join them,
Aphrodite chose to “catch a white wave” and magically flashed away. Later, several of the
town’s children
reported seeing an incredible sight – a beautiful woman riding a board
down the
side of a mountain! No
one believed
them, of course, but it made for an entertaining story.
Near
evening, Gabrielle dragged the warrior to the town
square. When the
warrior had protested, saying that
she was tired, the bard smiled and said, “But Xena,
I want to dance
with you first.”
Unable
to resist her lover’s request, she had laughingly
jumped into the snow
covered circle. So
they danced cheek
to cheek until the snow liberally coated them.
Now
everyone was packed into Hilda’s newly decorated Cracked Kettle Inn. Not one inch of space was bare
of a
smiling customer. At
the very front of
the common room, right next to a warmly crackling fire, was Gabrielle,
telling
story after story.
Gathered
in front of the fire were the town’s children, all dressed in their
favorite
sleepwear as they eagerly listened to the bard’s tales.
This was the night before Santa’s fabled
visit and all were impatiently waiting, driving everyone wild with
their
antics. It was the
warrior who had
suggested that Gabrielle entertain them with stories until their
parents were
ready to go home.
Gabrielle
laughed at the children’s enthusiasm.
“In a bit, perhaps. I
need to get
something to drink. Maybe
someone else
would like to give it a try?”
“Oh! Me! Me! Me!” one child
practically vibrated
out of his skin.
“Go
for it, Thadeus,” Gabrielle said, stepping away from her spot to allow
the
child to take it.
He
began to speak shyly, telling the story of Rudolph, a brave young
reindeer
whose nose was bitten off by the fearsome monster, Thistlehair
the Christmas
bear and had to be replaced by a magical, glowing red jewel. Of course, Santa thought
this was just
wonderful and hired Rudolph to help tow his magical sleigh around
the world.
“Now,
I didn’t always believe in Santa,” Thadeus said
softly. “But then,
I saw it!”
“What’d
you see, Thaddy?”
“I
saw mommy kissing Santa Claus,” the boy whispered gleefully.
A
gasp, followed by much giggling met his statement.
“It
was last winter – I woke up ‘cuz I was thirsty and there they were,
next to the
hearth!” He gazed
out at his circle of
round-eyed friends.
“What
happened?” One
little girl asked
fearfully.
“Nothing,
I crept into the kitchen and got some water and by the time I went back
to bed,
no one was there,” Thad said, shrugging.
“But I saw him!”
The
children cheered.
The
boy then sat down and another child took his place.
Nervously, he began to speak.
Gabrielle,
snuggled up next to Xena, listened to the second child for a moment and
then
just shook her head, covering a laugh with a fake
cough. “He’ll be
better with practice,” she
commented softly, indicating the child who was stuttering his way
through a
story. “But young
Thad’s got the makings
of a good bard in him. I
bet that
sometime in the future, silver and gold will fill
his hat.”
“Yes,
I suppose a story should have a more auspicious beginning than, ‘It
came
upon a midnight clear, in a town without any cheer’,” Xena
said just as
softly, then brushed her lips over the bard’s forehead.
“Mmhmm,”
Gabrielle murmured, tipping her head up so that her lover could kiss
her. They stood
there, in the shadows,
exploring each other’s lips gently.
“Nice,” the bard said, a little breathlessly. “I love your kisses,” she
said, which
promptly earned her several more.
Gabrielle
was called to perform several more stories before the night was over. Because of the heavy snow,
Many of the
townsfolk decided to stay at the inn, filling it to capacity. Gabrielle and Xena helped
the innkeeper hand
out all of the extra bedding she had, making the warrior and bard
grateful they
had plenty of their own in their travel supplies.
Even the common room floor was covered in
drowsing bodies.
In
the very front of the room, lying down by the slowly flickering fire
was the
boy, Thadeus. He
had curled onto his
side, facing the flames. A
tiny cloak
was balled under his head for a pillow and he had pulled his arms
inside of the
body of his tunic.
“Here
you go, Thad,” Gabrielle said, kneeling to give the boy a heavy blanket. “Are you here by
yourself?” she asked, when
she didn’t see anyone near him.
Thad
sat up and pushed his arms out through his sleeves, then tucked the
blanket
around himself. “Uh
huh. My mom stayed
home tonight with my sister
Rana. She’s got the
cough and can’t go
out for two more weeks.”
“Oh,
I’m sorry.” Gabrielle’s
smile flickered
into a frown. “Are
you okay here? Or
do you need someone to walk you home?”
“No,
I’m fine. Mom knows
I’m here,” he
assured her with a sleepy smile.
“Okay,
if you’re sure. Do
you need anything
else?” the bard asked.
“No,
but... would you tell me a story?
One for just me?” He
looked so
hopeful that the bard couldn’t deny him.
Softly, she told him the tale of her first Solstice with
Xena.
“So
the orphans got the toys they wanted?” he asked dreamily. He was lying on his back,
looking up into the
blonde bard’s eyes.
“Yep,”
Gabrielle said, brushing stray hairs from the boy’s face. “And I got this really
neat little wooden
lamb.” The bard’s
hands shaped the size
of the lamb.
He
smiled. “I really
want a Rudolph. Trapper
Jay makes them out of fur scraps, but
because Rana’s sick, my mom can’t afford one.”
He sighed sadly.
“Well,
maybe things will change,” the bard said, as a plan germinated in her
devious
little brain.
The
boy began to nod off and Gabrielle moved to stand.
“Is
it true?” Thad’s sleepy voice halted the bard.
“Is
what true?” she softly asked.
Yawning
mightily, the boy mumbled, “That Santa Claus is coming to town.”
A
gentle smile lit the bard’s face.
“Of
course it is, Thadeus. Just
you wait –
it’ll be a nice, silent night and all of the silver
bells will
have grown still and then, he’ll be here.
With a whoosh and twinkle, up on the housetop
and down through
the chimney he’ll go, leaving...” Gabrielle’s voice trailed off as a
soft snore
reached her ears. “Plenty
of special
toys for special boys,” she finished with a whisper.
Tugging the blankets over the sleeping child,
the bard stood and went upstairs to join her lover.
~*~*~
Xena
was more than amenable to Gabrielle’s little plan.
The very next day, several of their hard
earned dinars found their way into the pockets of
many of the town’s
merchants. Not even
the sudden advent of
a storm had shut down the busy marketplace. The streets were swept
clean of snow and
heavy canvas tarps were hung from booth to booth, creating a covered
walkway
for shoppers to stroll under and still remain dry.
At
even intervals, heavy tripod pits put out spheres of warmth. Next to these fires were
vendors selling
everything from spiced cider to meat pies.
For
most of the rest of the day, the two lovers wandered the streets of the
little
village, which they had learned was named Hercatea.
The Hercateans were a bright, friendly
people. The snow
which had been absent
for so long now flew in thick flurries, but that did not keep them from
celebrating their holiday.
At
each of the houses, the two women stopped and dropped off a small
package,
saying only that the gifts came from Santa Claus.
When
pressed for an explanation, Xena smiled mysteriously and said, “I
helped him
out with a little problem.” While
she
was speaking, Gabrielle would scoop up a ball of snow and toss it back
and
forth in her hands. That
was all it took
for the happy villagers to accept their story.
All
day, the town square was transformed from a dance circle to a playground
filled with strange and wondrous snow-creatures where the children
played for
candlemarks. Only
when their parents
called them home for supper did they reluctantly abandon their new
snowy wonderland.
That
evening, the inn was vacant, except for Xena, Gabrielle and Hilda. The innkeeper was already
fast asleep,
leaving the lovers to sit by the fire, enjoying its warmth.
“Think
she’s sleeping deep enough now?” Gabrielle asked softly.
The
warrior cocked her head, listening.
With
a little chuckle, Xena said, “Yeah.
She’s sawing some pretty hard logs in there.”
Gabrielle
snickered and grabbed her satchel.
Out
came two good-sized bundles of fabric which she placed on the mantle
above the
fire. In the dim
light the fabric
glittered. Heavy
silk brocade in hues
chosen to enhance rather than detract from Hilda’s pale features had
been the
bard’s choice of a gift to thank the innkeeper for her hospitality.
“I
hope she likes them,” the bard said, touching the fabric one last time
before
stepping away from the hearth.
Xena
slipped up behind her and wrapped her arms around the bard’s waist. “I think she will. If not, she can always use
them for rags.”
“Xe!”
Gabrielle elbowed the warrior. “Those
are heavy brocade silks, not washrags.”
“Then
she will surely love them, my bard,” Xena said, trying hard to keep
from laughing.
“Ooo,
I’m gonna get you...”
“Yes? You got me something?”
Xena purred into
Gabrielle’s ear as she slid her hands up to cover her breasts.
“Uh,
never mind. I think
we have a bed
somewhere around here, right?” The bard’s head lolled to the side as
the
warrior began to nibble gently on her very, very sensitive
ears.
“Oh,
I think so...” the warrior murmured.
“Find
it, now,” Gabrielle ordered, as she spun around and kissed the warrior
hard on
the mouth.
“Right
away, ma’am,” Xena said, saluting saucily as she ran up the stairs to
their
room.
“Gods
I love her,” Gabrielle said to no one in particular.
~*~*~
The
next day was Christmas day and it dawned clear.
The town came alive with children who
were delighted by the miracle
of a gift from the real Santa Claus.
Xena
had left Gabrielle to sleep in, with a special note attached to the
bard’s
gear. She had plans
for later, but for
now, she wandered Hercatea and enjoyed the laughter of the children.
“And
the big bad monster comes up and bites his nose off!
Run, Rudolph, run!”
Xena recognized the voice of Thad, the junior
bard. From around a
pile of snow came
the little boy, clutching a comically overstuffed reindeer tightly. A bright red glass stone
demarked the toy’s
special nose while tiny bells tinkled on the animal’s harness.
In
his other hand was an even bigger stuffed bear.
Fake claws that had been painted a lurid red matched the
wide open mouth
that was filled with several fierce looking teeth.
Xena smiled indulgently.
No bear that she had ever seen had appeared
so monstrous, but the story of Rudolph required a beast to eat the poor
animal’s nose, so the villagers had decided that it was a giant bear.
Setting
his toys on a stretch of snow, Thad knelt and started making the bear
chase the
reindeer. The boy’s
normally high
pitched voice changed dramatically as he took on the monster’s persona. “I’m gonna eat you up, Rudolph
the red
nosed reindeer!” he growled deeply.
“No!
No! No! Don’t eat me up, I’m Santa’s friend!”
The boy’s voice had switched into yet another tone, and
Xena had to
laugh, thinking that this is what Gabrielle must’ve been like at this
age.
“Yeah,
you tell him, Rudy,” Xena said softly, watching the boy run through the
play
area with his toys.
~*~*~
“Okay,
over the river and through the woods, around the
stump and to the –
whoa! Cave, very,
private cave. Good
call, Xena, good call,” the bard said,
smiling warmly as she ducked inside of the cave’s entrance. A single icicle
hung from the ceiling,
slowly melting in the warmth generated by a merrily flickering fire.
As
if Christmas day signaled some unseen gatekeeper to leave his post,
Hilda’s inn
had become so busy, that neither Xena nor Gabrielle had time to think,
much
less spend time with each other. In
short order, the town was overrun with people.
Relatives from outlying farms, travelers from nearby towns
and villages
as well as a group of priests on their way to Athens had all but pushed
the two
women out of the overflowing inn.
So
Xena had arranged for a little getaway for the two of them – a true
vacation. Argo
would remain boarded at
the Kettle’s stables while the women had some alone
time.
The
note Xena had left earlier that day contained directions, which the
bard had
followed to this point. On
the edge
of the forest between the village and the mountains, was a
small
river. It was here
that Xena had found
the cave. Candlemarks
of work had made
it a nice little home away from home.
Inside,
candles lit the darkness and a small but warm fire
pushed back
the cold. As soon
as the bard cleared
the entryway, Xena pushed a large stone over the opening, blocking them
from
view without cutting off their air.
“There,”
she said, brushing her hands off.
“Privacy, security and you.
I could not ask for more.”
“How
about a present?” Gabrielle teased, drawing a cloth wrapped bundle from
her
satchel.
“Oo,
I like presents,” Xena drawled, accepting the gift
with a smile. They
moved over to the fire where the warrior
had set up a thick pile of furs and easily settled down, Gabrielle
leaning
against Xena.
“So
open it,” Gabrielle prodded impatiently.
“I’m getting there,” Xena said as she carefully untied the twine that held the wrapping in place. With two deft twists, the string came free and drifted onto the bard, who tossed it aside. Inside of the cloth was a miniature portrait of the warrior’s daughter, Eve. Xena gasped. “Where’d you find this?”
A
grin crept over Gabrielle’s face.
“Nope,” she said.
Perplexed,
Xena repeated, “Nope?”
“Not
gonna tell ya. Just
enjoy it.” I
owe you one, Percilious.
The power shopper had, indeed, lived up to
his word. Tucked
away in the back of a
curio seller from India’s booth was this little portrait of the woman
that
Gabrielle had grown to think of as her own child.
Painted by a deft hand, the bard had know
that this was the perfect gift for her lover.
“I
will, I do. Gods, I
love you,
Gabrielle,” Xena said, drawing the bard into her arms for a long, sweet
kiss.
“My
turn,” Xena said when they parted.
“Oh
Xe, you didn’t have to,” Gabrielle said as the warrior handed her a
package wrapped
in brightly colored paper. “All
I
want for Christmas is you.”
This
earned her another lengthy kiss. “Pretty
paper,” the bard commented moments later.
“Almost too pretty. But,
I’m just
too curious.” With
gleeful abandon, she
ripped into the package, catching her breath at the sight of an ebony
writing
box. “This is
gorgeous,” she whispered,
turning the box over in her hands.
Inlaid with spiral patterns of mother of pearl, the box
was smaller than
a travel desk but large enough to house the tools of a bard’s trade.
“Open
it,” Xena suggested softly.
The
bard slowly lifted the hasp and opened the box.
Inside were inks, pens and nibs, all ready for use. Tucked into little pockets
in the lid were a
stone for mixing the ink powers on and a tiny knife for trimming
feather
nibs. “I love it
honey,” Gabrielle said,
turning her head up for another kiss.
“I
thought you might,” Xena said, smiling gently.
They
snuggled close and Gabrielle sighed contentedly.
“Well, another week’s work well done, I’d
say. Everything
turned out all right in
the end. Santa
visited the town, the
children got their winter wonderland and we have
this nice, cozy fire to
share. Can’t really
complain about
that.”
“Happy
Holidays, Gabrielle,” Xena said, kissing the bard’s temple.
“Happy
Holidays, Xena. Now,
what’s for
dinner? I’m
starving!”
fin