Lonely Christmas
"What's wrong, honey, you look so forlorn?" the mother asked her 10-year-old daughter.
"I'm bored," she replied. "Christmas is so boring without Leon. I miss him."
Gwenhwyvach gently stroked her daughter's hair in sympathy. "I know. This is the first Christmas he's been away, and I'm sure Leon is missing you, too."
"We used to build castles in the snow," Gwen remembered. "And we'd roast chestnuts in the fireplace in the hall. Leon would play his recorder and I'd sing carols."
"I know, love," Gwenhwyvach said as she hugged her little girl. "I know it's hard for you not having him here, but, Gwen you should be happy for Leon. He's is at the citadel studying to be a knight of Camelot."
"He's a knight already?" Gwen asked in surprise. Her friend and playmate had been gone several months. "That was quick."
"No, honey, he's not a knight yet," Gwenhwyvach said with a chuckle. "He's just a page right now. It will take many years of training before he becomes a knight."
"Will he come home when he becomes a knight?" Gwen asked her mother.
"Oh, I'm sure he'll visit from time to time, but he'll have duties to perform at the citadel. He'll be protecting you and me and the whole kingdom; the king's son will be his commander."
In response Gwen made several disgusting noises. "Don't you like Prince Arthur?" her mother asked.
"No, I don't!" said Gwen. "He's such a jerk. He threw a rock at me." Arthur and his father had come to the manor for a Midsummer Ball. The two children hadn't hit it off well.
"Well, you shouldn't have thrown horse dung at him," Gwenhwyvach admonished.
"He called me a smelly peasant," Gwen said.
"And I heard that you called him a spoiled brat," said her mother.
"No, I called him a spoiled prat," Gwen corrected.
"Well, that's all in the past," Gwenhwyvach said. "His lordship is going to Camelot in two days. Why not write his son a Christmas letter; tell him what you've been doing since he left. I'm sure his lordship will be happy to convey it to Leon, and I'm sure Leon will be very happy to receive it."
"I can send him the scarf I made too," Gwen said, brightening. "I embroidered his initial on it."
"Why don't you send Prince Arthur a gift to show you're sorry," Gwenhwyvach suggested.
"I don't know how to embroider horse dung," Gwen replied and hurried off to write a letter.