A/N: This is my annual holiday related story, or in this case series of tales. As always, no infringement intended. Kudos to Mountain Cat my beta who had more stuff sent to her to fix over the busy holiday season. She's a gem. And as always love reviews. Like mini holiday presents each day when I open my email.

WARNING – I have decided to add a cautionary note to this series. Some of the chapters will address hunting animals both for sport and food, common occurrences in the 17th century France. If you prefer not to read stories containing these scenarios, skip this story.

TLQ 1

"A cold wind is going to come around the corner and freeze that look on your face," Aramis teased his retreating friend, though apparently, it didn't go over well as it only caused Athos to deepen his scowl. Deciding to try another tactic, the marksman cajoled, "It's for your Queen."

Athos stopped, turned, and glared even harder at his friend. "My job is to protect her Majesty from enemies foreign and domestic. Not hunt for her dinner!"

A fake look of shock appeared on Aramis' face and his voice rose in mock-horror. "Sacrilegious! She is in a delicate condition and must be treated accordingly. In her blessed womb is the heir of France. It is our sacred duty to do whatever is required to ensure her well-being.

Shaking his head, Athos peered down at the four large poodles, two black, two white, sitting by his feet. He swore the clowns of the dog-world were grinning at him, enjoying his whole discomfort with this particular assignment. They had borrowed the canines from the kennel-master to help beat the fields, thereby causing the birds to rise so they could be shot. Though Athos knew poodles were typically used for hunting water fowl, the intelligent, adaptable animals were performing well at this task too. The problem was, so far, there had been nothing to flush out of the grassy fields through which the Musketeers roamed; well almost nothing. The jovial poodles had managed to flush out some animals, just not winged-ones. To some degree, Athos thought the fun-loving canines were doing it on purpose.

The poodle pack had flushed out a skunk, which had taken serious exception to being disturbed, though luckily both the two men and the four dogs avoided being sprayed. Then there was the fox, hiding in an empty log. The four, long-legged purebreds barked up a storm and chased the red fox into the woods, their yapping gradually fading away. The poodles were gone so long the Musketeers began to worry if they would ever return and if not, how the kennel-master would take the fact they had lost his prize possessions. While they were gone, somehow it became Athos' job to slog through the field trying to flush out the non-existence birds, which only served to further degrade his already foul mood.

Finally, the poodle pack returned, innocently looking as if they had never deserted the ship. They came to a screeching halt right in front of the two Musketeers, simultaneously dropped onto their partially shaved, curly haunches and solemnly looked up at the men as if awaiting instruction. However, the twinkle in their dark brown eyes showed they were just messing with Aramis' and Athos' minds.

For their next trick, the poodles flushed out a boar. Aramis and Athos were on foot, and there was a moment or two of concern when the unhappy boar seemed bent on taking out his ire on them. But the poodles, who could be goof-balls, suddenly turned serious and they quickly and furiously drove the boar away from the Musketeers. When the boar was safely gone, the four dogs came running back to circle the legs of the Musketeers and elicit pats for a job well done.

An unamused Athos watched as Aramis scolded the canine crew for not taking this mission seriously. As if the dogs actually absorbed the lecture, the poodles abruptly got serious and set about to do their job. Over the space of the next few hours, there were a number of winged creatures driven skyward by the poodle pack, though unfortunately none were the right variety. But, it certainly wasn't for lack of trying by the poodles.

When eventually the canines flushed some geese from the reeds by a pond, Athos swiftly raised his musket and took aim at the flying objects. However, Aramis reached over, clapped a hand on his shoulder and stopped him from firing. Highly annoyed, Athos rounded on his friend with the loaded musket and for a moment Aramis wondered just how much his brother loved him because it looked like he was suspiciously close to being on the wrong end of the barrel.

"Why the hell did you do that?" the irate Musketeer growled at his hunting companion. "I had a perfect shot. We could have bagged the damn goose and headed home. In case you haven't noticed, it is getting dark and cold and I have had enough." Of this wild goose chase, he added in his head.

"Our Queen didn't request a goose," Aramis simply explained as he reached down to scratch the ear of the white poodle who came over to stand by him and await his next command.

"It's a bird; it's close enough," Athos announced, clearly fed up with this mission. Absentmindedly, the swordsman found himself reacting to the long black nose that was nudging his hand, by reaching down and rubbing the head of the black poodle that was practically leaning on his legs. He had had a black poodle, for a while, as a child.

"We're done here," Athos declared as he started to walk towards where they had left their mounts hours ago. His sudden departure caught the poodle unaware and the dog fell over since it had been leaning so hard against Athos' leg. With the dignity that only a poodle can muster after it does something silly, the canine got back on its feet and stately pranced after the retreating man.

"But Athos," Aramis all but whined trailing after him. "You know how poorly the Queen has been feeling of late. The King has been trying all sorts of things to cheer her up. He, Louis, even got down on his knees. And you know what he said to her?"

"No. And I don't care," Athos tossed over his shoulder.

Aramis, of course, ignored him. The King said to her, 'My true love. What can I get for you to make you happy?'."

Athos gave a light snort at that picture. The King didn't bow down to any man, or woman for that matter.

"And," Aramis continued his tale to a disinterested Athos, "the Queen said she fancied a partridge."

Suddenly, fate intervened on cue and two of the poodles suddenly took off into the long, amber waves of grass. Out of the blue, two partridges burst forth from their cover and took to the skies. Immediately, Aramis brought his gun to bear and neatly shot down the first bird. The white poodle still by his side merrily loped off to retrieve the partridge.

Athos wasn't quite as fortunate, for his shot merely clipped the bird, which managed to fly to a nearby tree where it got caught up in the branches. It flapped for a moment before it became deathly still. The black poodle which had been following Athos, ran to the base of the tree and barked up at the bird, as if the Musketeers lacked the ability to figure out where the bird had gone.

The two men marched over to the tree, stood at its base and stared upwards at the dead bird caught in the tree limbs. By this time, the white poodle had retrieved Aramis' partridge and had carefully brought it back to the Musketeer. The marksman took the bird, holding it by its feet. Athos gave one last look the bird in the tree, then turned away and started for the horses. The black poodle was torn between following the Musketeer and barking at the bird in the tree.

"Where are you going?" Aramis questioned the retreating Musketeer.

"Home."

"But the partridge is still in the tree," Aramis declared, stating the obvious as if the poodle's barking wasn't enough of a clue.

Athos stopped, turned and looked at his brother. "So what? You have one. We're good."

Aramis tried to reason with the grouchy Musketeer. "One? One's not enough. They are a rather small bird and her Majesty is eating for two. And what if the King should want some? You know our King doesn't share well."

"Even for his true love?" Athos mumbled under his breath, parodying Aramis' earlier words.

"You must climb that tree and fetch the bird," Aramis declared in a tone that brooked no argument. But Athos wasn't buying into it.

"Send one of the dogs to do it," Athos tossed back, clearly showing no intention of heading anywhere but back to the horses.

"Athos…it's for your Queen," Aramis coaxed. "The Queen you nearly died for at the convent. The Queen you saved from the Cardinal. The Queen who is carrying the heir to France and," his voice dropped to a whisper, "maybe my own flesh and blood."

That caused the swordsman to put on the brakes as he ran a frustrated hand over his wavy brown hair. Damn his brother for bringing that up. How could he refuse a plea such as that?

"I'd do it myself," Aramis avowed, "but my arm is still recovering from that nasty wound a few weeks ago."

When it appeared Athos would not be moved, Aramis sighed deeply and started towards the tree. But as Aramis knew, Athos wouldn't let him risk further injury by climbing the tree, so the grumbling swordsman turned, strode over and brushed past the marksman. "I'll never hear the end of it if you get hurt." Arriving at the base of the tree, Athos stripped off his weapon's belt and shoved it at Aramis. "Hold this."

Aramis took the bundle, holding it in his free hand. The white poodle wasn't very happy with this arrangement as it left no hands free to scratch his head. With the equivalent of a doggie sigh, the poodle wandered back to where the other three canines were sitting, near the tree.

"Great. An audience," Athos muttered as he glanced over and saw the poodles intently gazing at him.

The tree where the partridge was stuck was not overly tall and did have some easily reachable branches for climbing purposes. With a grunt, Athos grabbed a branch, hauled himself upward and began to scale the tree.

Aramis, who had been studying the tree closely, yelled up, "It's a fruit tree. Pear. And there are still a few pears on the branches. Collect them too. I'm sure the Queen would enjoy fresh fruit this late in the year. Highly unusual."

From his perch, where he had wedged himself for a moment to determine how to best reach the elusive partridge, Athos reached over and plucked one of the aforementioned pears and then deliberately threw it at Aramis. His aim was good as the fruit hit the marksman square in the chest, causing the man to grunt and glare up at him. The poodles got up as one and wandered over to examine the new item on the ground by Aramis' feet. Finding the pear uninteresting, the pack sat once more and stared at Athos in the tree.

"Not nice," Aramis wheezed, wishing he had a free hand to rub his aching chest. But if he dropped the swordsman's weapons in the dirt, he knew there would be hell to pay. And he certainly wasn't going to risk the Queen's partridge, so he stood there and suffered in silence. Six more pears came flying at him, one by one, and the marksman did a dance trying to avoid being pommeled, much to the poodles' delight. They jumped up, barked and danced circles around him, their pom-pom tails wagging happily.

When the rain of fruit finally ceased, Aramis hesitantly looked upwards at Athos and sarcastically inquired, "Are you done?"

Athos, who had one last fruit in his hand, considered that question. With a self-satisfied grin, he tucked the last pear in his coat pocket for a later surprise attack.

Grumbling, Aramis slung Athos' weapon's belt over his shoulder and set about picking the fruit up off the ground and stashing them in the various pockets in his own long coat. No matter what Athos' opinion, he still thought this would be a nice surprise for the Queen.

Meanwhile, in the tree, Athos carefully began edging his way out to the area where the bird was stuck, on the outer edges of the tree where the branches were thinner. He had serious doubts about the tree limbs being able to support his weight, so he stretched his body out like a sunning cat trying to keep his weight evenly distributed on some of the sturdier looking branches. His gloved fingers had just touched the tail feathers of the bird when there was an ominous cracking sound and he unexpectedly found himself plummeting towards the ground. It was a quick trip; he barely had time to utter a decent curse word before he smacked into the ground. His head bounced off the dirt and he momentarily blacked out.

Without thinking Aramis dropped everything he was holding on the ground and rushed to his brother's crumpled form along with the poodle pack. Athos woke to human fingers checking the pulse in his neck and long, damp dog noses pressing on other parts of his body, including a pink tongue licking his cheek. With a groan, he attempted to brush aside all the aid he was receiving.

"Take it easy, Athos," Aramis warned as the man struggled to sit up. "Lie here a moment. See if you are seriously hurt anywhere."

Of course, the stubborn swordsman didn't listen. Since he was struggling to sit up and the medic didn't want him to further injure himself, Aramis helped him achieve that goal. But would not let him go any further just yet. The poodles backed off too, some sitting and some lying at Athos' side in the grass.

"How do you feel?" Aramis asked the dazed musketeer once again.

"Like I fell out of a tree." Suddenly, in a panic, Athos began scanning the ground about him muttering under his breath. "God damn it, where is it!"

The black poodle, which had rather attached himself to Athos on this trip, stood, moved across the grass, picked something up and pranced, in that way only poodles can, proudly back to Athos. When he reached the Musketeer, the canine solemnly offered up the prize of the partridge. Gingerly, because he did ache all over, Athos took the bird from the dog and then handed it over to Aramis. "Hate to think after all of this that the damn bird was still up there."

"I'm sure our Queen will lavish high praise upon you for your worthy efforts in retrieving this noble partridge for her table," Aramis swore with a twinkle in his eyes, but a grave look on his face. Unexpectedly, the marksman found a hand clutching his collar, twisting it rather tightly. A set of very serious green eyes bore into his with a fierce intensity.

"We'll not speak of this at all," Athos warned in voice that sent shivers down Aramis' spine. "Not to anyone." Athos' elbow unintendedly brushed his abdomen, causing him to wince, release Aramis' coat, and moan in pain.

"What?" Aramis asked with somber concern. "Your ribs? Did you break them when you fell?"

Athos was in such agony, he didn't fuss when Aramis began to unbutton his doublet and lift his shirt. The swordsman concentrated on taking shallow breaths to ease the waves of pain washing over his body, while Aramis examined him. The medic felt a wetness on his exploring fingers and grew concerned as he desperately searched for the bleeding wound.

Looking at his hand, it suddenly dawned on the medic the sticky wetness on his fingers was not red and upon closer examination smelled fruity. He took a closer look at Athos' abdomen and noticed a bruised area starting to appear in a very distinctive shape. Rocking back on his heels, Aramis burst out laughing.

Struggling to see what was making Aramis laugh uncharacteristically at his pain, Athos followed the marksman's gaze to the bruise forming just below his left ribcage. The string of curses he let loose was worthy of a longshoreman as he glared at the pear shaped purple mark forming on his skin. He had forgotten about the fruit he had stashed in his pocket. The poodles, excited by the goings-on, started sticking their cold wet noses on Athos' exposed skin again.

"See Athos. That is God's way of punishing you for throwing pears at me and disrespecting the wishes of your Queen," Aramis said between bouts of laughter. "You're never going to live this down. Wait until Porthos and d'Artagnan see that bruise."

Yanking his shirt down, Athos stated, "They will never see it and if you tell them…"

Aramis held up a hand to cutoff Athos' threat. "I won't tell, but you know they will find out."

After a few minutes more of rest, Aramis helped Athos to his feet. They gathered the partridges, pears, weapons, and dogs and rode home. At the kennel, Athos gave a final rub under the chin to the black poodle that had taken a fancy to him, before they delivered the partridges and pears to the King and Queen.

And of course, the other two Musketeers did find out, and they nearly died of laugher when they learned that Athos got his wound in service of his Queen, getting a partridge out of a pear tree. Athos suffered through his brother's mirth with as much dignity as he could manage along with a copious amount of wine. After his third bottle, somehow even he was beginning to find the incident mildly amusing. A partridge in a pear tree, indeed. What he did for Queen and Country.