I walked to the doorway of Achilles' room. He was sitting at his desk, a feather pen in hand and a piece of parchment in front of him. I paused and gently tapped my knuckles against the wood frame. The elderly man looked up at me.

"What is it, Faith?"

I took a couple tentative steps forward and stood by the desk with my hands in my back pockets. I watched him for a moment, wondering how to go about making my request.

Achilles' brow creased as my silence grew longer. His expression became firm. He started to speak, perhaps to scold me for interrupting. I spoke before he could.

"I have something to ask you."

"Do you require permission? Or are you just stating your purpose for disturbing me?"

I let out a nervous chuckle. "Honestly, I'm just stalling. I don't know how you'll react to what I want to say. And I don't want to offend you or overstep my bounds." I paused. Achilles waited quietly. If he was curious about my behavior, he didn't show it. "Christmas in in three days."

"So it is," the man stated factually.

"I noticed you don't have any decorations up, and I was wondering if you had any kind of celebration planned for the holiday."

"I've not celebrated Christmas in a long time," Achilles told me. "Why do you ask? Do you have a special tradition?"

"Not really. I've never stayed in one place long enough to pick up any real habits. But I am used to most people making a big deal about the season. I was just wondering where you stand on the whole gift-giving-yule-tide festivities thing."

"I don't care one way or the other, Faith," he told me. "I've never been much for merriment. But, if it's important to you, you're welcome to decorate the house. There are some boxes of ornaments upstairs. You can go through them later and pick out what you like."

"What about a tree?"

Achilles thought for a moment. "I suppose you can ask Connor to cut down a small one, if he has time."

The fact that having a tree would involve felling a live one and bringing it to the house had not occurred to me. The only Christmas trees that were ever in the homes where I was raised had been artificial. The prospect of having a real tree excited me.

"Now?"

I nearly squealed in delight. My anticipation seemed to both amuse and annoy Achilles. He frowned at me while trying hard to hide a grin.

"Yes, now," he sighed.

I turned to go find Connor before remembering I had no idea where to begin my search. I paused and looked back at the old man.

"He's out back."

With that knowledge, I grabbed my coat and hurried out the front door. I was nearly skipping as I circled the house. Connor was near the shed splinting wood with a large ax. Even in such cold northern weather, his coat was off and his hair damp with perspiration. After adding the pieces he had just cut to a neat pile inside the building, Connor pickup up a large hunk of wood half the size of a tree and began chopping it into manageable chunks. He had just raised his ax for another swing when I called his name. I'm not sure if it was my unexpected presence or the sheer elation in my voice that startled him. He jerked and spun toward me, lowering the sharp implement slowly to his side as he regarded with a steady gaze.

"Faith, what is wrong?"

Ignoring the question, I began to explain – in a very vague way – the good news I had just gotten from Achilles. Connor must have thought I was crazy from my rambling. He looked at me as though I were.

"I need your help. Achilles said I could decorate the house for Christmas. He has boxes of decorations, but I haven't gone through them yet. I'm actually really curious to see what all he has. I've never gotten to decorate by myself before."

I paused to take a breath and Connor took the opportunity to interrupt. "You said you need my help," he stated in a discerning tone.

"Oh, yeah. We need to get a tree. I need you to help me cut one down."

Connor nodded in understanding. "We can go when I am finished here."

"Can't we go now?" I asked impatiently. I glanced at the large stack of wood in the shed. There was enough there to last a week – at least. "I can help you finish up here when we get back."

I almost hoped Connor wouldn't take me up on my offer. It wasn't that I hadn't meant it, or that I didn't want to help. But, judging by his appearance, chopping firewood was a very hard job. And not one I relished doing.

After a moment's consideration, Connor sighed loudly. "Okay. Just let me get a drink first."

"I got it!"

While he put on his jacket I hurried to the well, pumped a bucket of water and dipped some into the ladle. It wasn't the most sanitary way to drink, us all sharing a cup that hung on the well post outside, but it was convenient. I had thought well water would have a dirty taste. Instead, it was fresh, cool and delicious. Of course, when one is really thirsty, one will drink mud if it was all one had access to. Still, I loved the water from the well.

Connor drained all the water in one big gulp. I took the ladle from him and returned it to its place while he strapped the ax into a harness on his back.

"There is a clearing not far from here with young pines," he told me, gesturing with one hand in that direction. "One would serve your purpose well."

"Cool."

Connor's brow wrinkled at the colloquialism. I considered rephrasing my reply, but didn't. Instead I reminded myself to make an effort to speak in more traditional terms. I had not realized how much slang I used until I met Connor and Achilles. That would be a hard habit to break. Correcting over a decade of common behavior would take me years.

I silently wondered how many of those I would have in this place.

Connor led me down a snow-covered path south of the house. The land was mostly overgrown and unused. I hadn't known how extensive the forest was until I could no longer see the house. The snow was about two feet deep, and it was a workout just to move in it. Connor didn't seem to have as limited mobility as I did. But he was quite a bit bigger than I was. I guessed him at least six feet tall already and probably about two hundred pounds. It was all muscle, though. He was very bulky. He'd wait for me to catch up every so often, which I thought was considerate.

By the time we got to where we were going, I was frozen. The sun was shining through the clouds, but it provided little warmth. My fingers were like ice, even with my hands in my pockets. I wished I had gloves. My boots were good for this travel though. Of that I was thankful. My feet were warm, but my pants were wet up to my knees from trudging through the mounds of snow.

We stopped in a sparely forested area populated with a few small firs. They all looked full and green, especially against the white backdrop of the snowy hills.

"Which do you prefer?" Connor asked me.

Considering they all looked perfect as far as trees went, I chose the smallest of the bunch. I didn't realize until we got closer that the short one was still over five feet tall and three feet in circumference. It was a tad larger than I wanted, since the only way to get it back to the house was for Connor and me to drag it. But I thought I could manage just fine.

Having made my choice, Connor loosed his ax and began chopping while I stood idly by, shivering from the cold. It didn't take him as long as I thought it was going to. Within moments the pine fell to the ground in a cloud of damp white. Though I was loath to remove my hands from my pockets, I approached the tree opposite of Connor and grasped one of the thick lower branches. It wasn't that difficult to drag but attempting to do it while maneuvering in two feet of snow was precarious. I almost fell a couple times and cursed at my poor luck. Connor glanced at me when he heard the profanity but said nothing. I wondered if he'd ever heard bad words before. Surly he had. I wasn't sure how much women swore in this time period, but I was certain the crew of his ship did.

That made me wonder what else he'd heard from the workers of the Aquila. The lewd disposition of sailors may had just been a false stereotype, but I doubted it. There was usually a grain of truth behind every such simile.

Tugging the tree got easier as we neared a cleared path. Connor led the way as I was unsure of where exactly we were. We'd cut through the forest on our way to get the tree. The way we were taking back was different.

As we moved along, I heard a voice call out to Connor. He stopped and turned toward the speaker. It was an older, heavy-set man with a full beard. Connor put the tree down as he came over to us.

"Lance," he greeted. "How are you?"

"As well as can be expected in such poor weather," the man said. He looked at me. "Who's your friend, Connor?"

"This is Faith," Connor told him. The other man reached out a hand to me. "She is working for Achilles for the time being."

"How do you do?" the man asked as I shook his hand quickly before putting mine back in my pockets. "I'm Lance. I live and work close by."

"Oh," I said, attempting polite conversation. "What kind of work do you do?"

"Woodwork," Lance told me. "It's not that exciting, but it makes a living."

"Really?" I spoke. "Do you only make furniture? Or can you make other things?"

"Most of my orders are for furniture," Lance said. "But I have experience with all forms of wood craft. I've been commissioned to create all sort of things, from game pieces to sheds"

An idea struck me as he was speaking. I remembered that Achilles' cane was quite worn and splintered in spots. He didn't use it much, but I thought a new one might benefit him.

"Do you make canes?" I asked Lance.

"Sure," he answered. "I've made my fair share of canes."

"Would it be possible for you to make a simple, but elegant cane in two days?"

"I'm sure I could whip up something decent in that time frame," Lance told me.

"How much would you charge for such an order?"

Lance thought for a moment. "For you? Hmm...five shillings."

"That seems a low price for such work," Connor stated. I took his word for it. I didn't understand shillings and pounds. "I would not want you to be inconvenienced."

Lance laughed. It was a hearty, sincere sound. "It's no inconvenience at all. If not for you, I had still be hanging by my ankles off the cliff. You and Achilles have helped me in many ways, and I'm obliged to return the favor."

"That is very kind of you," Connor said. "You have our thanks."

"Don't mention it." Lance looked at me. "Your order will be ready for pick up Christmas eve."

"Thank you," I told him.

Lance turned to go. Connor and I resumed our task of dragging the tree back to the house on the hill.

"I do not understand," Connor spoke after a moment. "Why did you commission Lance to make a cane in two days time?"

Lugging the tree and speaking at the same time caused my answer to be short and breathless. "For Achilles," I told him.

I was excited when I saw the house come into view. Knowing we didn't have much farther to go gave me new strength. I picked up my pace, still barely able to keep up with Connor.

"Achilles has a cane," the boy said.

I waited until we were in the front yard to explain. Releasing my grip on the pine I leaned against the pillar and struggled to catch my breath. In complete contrast to my mood, Connor was relaxed and breathing normally. The chore had not taxed him at all.

"I know," I was finally able to say. "But Christmas is a time of giving. I thought it would be nice if I got Achilles something, and a cane seemed like a reasonable choice." I didn't add that it was my only choice.

Connor nodded in understanding. "I am sure he will be grateful."

I straitened as I heard the front door open. Achilles limped onto the porch and looked at the tree. "Don't just stand there," he said. "Hurry and set that up so Connor can get back to work."

"Okay," I sighed. "Just let me catch my breath first. Sheesh."

The old man gave me a stern look as Connor raised his eyebrows at me. I had not thought about the disrespectful nature of my words before I had spoken. My attitude was habit. I often said things without giving any consideration to whom I was speaking.

Looking at Achilles' expression, I had the urge to apologize. So I did. "We'll be done in just a bit," I promised, smiling as sweetly as I could.

Placated, the old man turned to go in. "Five minutes," he called before shutting the door.

I looked at Connor. "He's...strict."

The young man nodded. "You should be wary of the tone you use when speaking to him."

I chuckled at the irony of his warning. "Like you never do anything to piss him off."

"That is why I caution you."

It was good advice. I decided to take it as we worked to get the tree inside. It wasn't as easy to lug on the wood floor as it had been on the slick snow. Navigating the turn into the study took some doing. Achilles had put a tree stand in front of the far window while we had been gone. Because of that, it took less time to set up than I would have thought.

Once we had finished, I stood in at the fireplace holding my hands as close to the flames as I could. I was chilled to the bone and wet, but sort of excited.

At least, I was until Connor spoke. What he said soured my good mood.

"We should finish chopping wood now."

I murmured a curse as I followed him back out into the glacial temperatures of the outdoors. I had really hoped he would forget my offer before we returned home.