A Very Sherwood Christmas

Jeffrey.

Since I’ve been in the mood to write my Robin Hood/King Arthur retelling, I’ve decided to jot down a Christmas story featuring my (often-childish) characters.  Or I’ll try to, anyway — the kitten may prove it difficult to accomplish.  She likes typing.


The snow flurried down from the thick, grey-white clouds, but it was much warmer in the forest where the trees blocked the wind.  Marian threw a stick at Jeffrey and Guinson, who were huddled under a ragged blanket, blowing on their hands with their faces inches from the fire.  “Up, you lazybones,” she laughed.

“You have no mercy,” Lancelot chuckled, sitting on the ground beside her.

“Where have you been?” John demanded, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

Lancelot’s eyes were alight with mischief, and from behind his back, he pulled a large cloth sack.  “Merry Christmas,” he said, tossing it next to the fire. 

Guinson dashed out from under the blanket and set upon the knot, Jeffrey scrambling to his side with the blanket trailing after him.  Together they opened the sack and pulled back the cloth pieces, and Guinson gasped.  “This is for us?” he breathed.  “We can eat it?”

Lancelot laughed.  “Well, we’re not going to hang it on the tree for the buzzards to get at!”

Everyone crowded around the juicy turkey, carving and arguing over who was eating too much.  Marian turned and grinned at Lancelot.

“Whose kitchen did you steal that from?” she asked.

Lancelot frowned, as if trying to remember.  “Well,” he said, “there’s this man called Magar — I don’t know whether you’ve heard of him or not, but I think he’s the sheriff — and I snuck into the kitchens of his castle and decided to help him enjoy his Christmas feast.  Looks like I’ve done a good job of it, too.”

Marian laughed.  “I should think so,” she agreed.  It was daring and stupid, what he had done, but as she watched her men devour the seasoned meat a bubble of happiness welled in her heart.  She turned to Lancelot and said, “Thank you.”

He shrugged, watching his comrades.  “I figured they deserved something that was properly cooked for once.  And salted.”

They looked up to see John frowning at them.  “Aren’t you going to have any?” he demanded.  Marian grinned and motioned for Lancelot to precede her as they joined their friends around their Christmas dinner.


 

Cheers, and have a very merry Christmas!

Ana

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