When it comes down to helping train up Gwen in all of the things that the young troll needs to learn in her year and a day, Silverwolf's steward likes to impart 'her' fledge with lessons on Fae lore that are more like story telling with a cookies, as she bakes or cooks for the day.
Most recently she has shared with Gwen the history of how Changelings usually celebrate Yule, as she kneads out dough for braided spiced loaves. The grump’s arms may look short and plump, but she rolls and presses the stiff dough into submission.
"Normally here, we don't have much cause for a big to-do." Marigold explains. “M’lord always heads out for his Solstice trip the day before Yule, and he gets back late Yule eve or the next morn.” Indeed, he had left before the sun rose, driving out with a loaded pack the morning before. “After all, we aren’t the only folk who hold the day sacred."
“When there are gifts to be had- we don’t make a big fuss about that; don't worry if you don't, nothing is ever required... we can do those when he returns.”
Yule day comes and goes uneventfully, but for a ginger bread battle that leaves anyone who challenges Briar in crumbs, and the spiced braided Yule bread which is delicious.
The following day passes... no sign of the baron’s car pulling up the drive.
Late at night, as the hold lies quiet under the Yule Star bright and Cronus and Zeus warring for attention in the sky, the balefire FLARES. A tremor of glamour ripples through the freehold, as a wind rattles the shutters with an echo akin to a wolf's howl. Fading... the bale falls low, silver flames flickering weakly among the embers. Something is wrong... it seems to cry... but the only one it can speak to is far from it's light.