Tuesday, December 10, 2013

The Dawn of Christmastide



It is hard to believe the Christmas season is once again upon us.
It seemed only yesterday that I started this archive and yet it is now nearly a year old.

The Agmar castle is aglow with festive decorations. Each object of garland hung on the walls and mantels speak of Christmas cheer, candles from every corner spreads an inner warmth and joy.
The dull gray stone walls have never looked more radiant in all their adornments.

A week ago the Ruler came into Saundros, the Krespanian sea-port, with Captain Christian Bentione bringing an invitation from my brother to join him at his castle for the holidays.
It has been several years since I have had Christmas at Agmar, usually having my own festivities to host at LunaMara, that Lennox always came to me but I thought this would be a good change of pace.

Since most of my childhood was spent at Agmar the place holds a dear position in my heart.
The familiarity in every wall, beam and staircase gives a heartwarming reminder of my parents and the many Christmas's we celebrated there together as I grew up.
The memories are bittersweet when I recall how we four sat by the fireplace many a time, sipping hot apple cider and listening to Father retelling a story of his younger days and his many adventures.

I can picture Lennox as he listened intently to Father, drinking in every word with wide eyes, and with a grin so large it filled half his face.
That same love for adventure has never been lost in him since.

Then there was Mother, sitting there as graceful and beautiful as ever I can remember, with a gentle smile, softly interjecting here and there that she remembered the story a little different then how Father was describing it.

And I remember how the fire glowed in the reflection of Father's animated eyes just as strong as the joy of telling his narrative.
And how his deep, strong voice rose and fell with the suspense of the tale, and when he laughed it filled the room with a sound both joyous and warmhearted.

Those were precious moments that I will not forget, and though our parents are not with us anymore, we still find joy in reminiscing those times and making our own traditions between the two of us.

Such as the tradition of handpicking our own Christmas tree.
A few days ago, Lennox and I, accompanied by a party of friends and servants, rode out to the forest close to the castle and searched for the perfect tree.
It was several hours before both Lennox and I were satisfied and agreed on one, and then he continued in his customary way to cut down the tree with his favorite ceremonial axe, that is too large and lavish to be of any ordinary use.

The tree is a glorious one, standing twelve feet high, and fills the Great Hall with it's fresh and earthy aroma. The foliage is a rich, deep green and it's branches are straight and well formed.

The hall's appearance was much improved by the Christmas tree once it was decorated and arrayed in all it's glory, and my brother and I are exceedingly satisfied at choosing it.

I cannot think of ever having a better one.


-Emerald de Gavrillac
Queen of Krespania


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