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Entry tags:
TDIR: Lighting Up
Fandom: The Dark Is Rising
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: It was Jen Evans that ensured Bran got something for Christmas. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
lemon_advent.
It was Jen Evans that ensured Bran got anything for Christmas. Owen Davies always seemed to think there was something rotten at the sparkling heart of Christmas: there, in all the glitter and sparkle, in the glee and greed, the devil had a foothold, perhaps. But Jen Evans saw no harm in the stocking she filled for Bran, except that some of the nicest parts of childhood were held back from him. The first year she was able to give him a stocking, he was nine already.
"Normally," she told him, stuffing an orange into the stocking's toe, "you'd hang this up empty at the bottom of your bed, and in the night it'd be filled up for you to find in the morning. By Santa, you know."
"By Da, you mean," Bran said, without a smile. "If he wasn't... Da."
She smiled, and nodded. "I suppose it spoils it a bit, getting it like this."
Bran shrugged, awkwardly. He seemed to be older than he should be, Jen thought, sadly. Like a smaller version of his father in some ways, joyless and stern. But there was a quirk in his mouth that softened his face as she shoved an awkwardly shaped parcel into the stocking with some difficulty. "It's very kind of you to do it for me, Mrs Evans."
"You know I don't mind," she said, reaching up and tousling his hair quickly, as if he were Rhys at that age. "If there's anything you want a lot, perhaps it could be arranged as a Christmas present...?"
Bran shook his head, awkwardness edging his voice. "Da wouldn't like it, if I got anything, really. He says that Christmas is too much about greed, now, and not enough about... well, you know, Christ."
Jen frowned as she slipped a few more small parcels into the sack. "I think your father sees the world the wrong way round, sometimes. Think about giving, not receiving. It's... When you give someone something they really want, and their face lights up... that's what it's about, for me." She smiled ruefully. "I miss the days when Rhys was young enough to really show it."
"I'm sorry," Bran said, softly. "I'm not the lighting up kind, I suppose. But I do really like it."
She turned quickly to hug him, then. He stood stiff and uncomfortable in the circle of her embrace, like he'd never been hugged, but then, awkwardly, returned it.
"You're a good lad," she said, softly, into his soft white hair. "I hope Owen knows how lucky he is."
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: It was Jen Evans that ensured Bran got something for Christmas. For
lemon_advent.It was Jen Evans that ensured Bran got anything for Christmas. Owen Davies always seemed to think there was something rotten at the sparkling heart of Christmas: there, in all the glitter and sparkle, in the glee and greed, the devil had a foothold, perhaps. But Jen Evans saw no harm in the stocking she filled for Bran, except that some of the nicest parts of childhood were held back from him. The first year she was able to give him a stocking, he was nine already.
"Normally," she told him, stuffing an orange into the stocking's toe, "you'd hang this up empty at the bottom of your bed, and in the night it'd be filled up for you to find in the morning. By Santa, you know."
"By Da, you mean," Bran said, without a smile. "If he wasn't... Da."
She smiled, and nodded. "I suppose it spoils it a bit, getting it like this."
Bran shrugged, awkwardly. He seemed to be older than he should be, Jen thought, sadly. Like a smaller version of his father in some ways, joyless and stern. But there was a quirk in his mouth that softened his face as she shoved an awkwardly shaped parcel into the stocking with some difficulty. "It's very kind of you to do it for me, Mrs Evans."
"You know I don't mind," she said, reaching up and tousling his hair quickly, as if he were Rhys at that age. "If there's anything you want a lot, perhaps it could be arranged as a Christmas present...?"
Bran shook his head, awkwardness edging his voice. "Da wouldn't like it, if I got anything, really. He says that Christmas is too much about greed, now, and not enough about... well, you know, Christ."
Jen frowned as she slipped a few more small parcels into the sack. "I think your father sees the world the wrong way round, sometimes. Think about giving, not receiving. It's... When you give someone something they really want, and their face lights up... that's what it's about, for me." She smiled ruefully. "I miss the days when Rhys was young enough to really show it."
"I'm sorry," Bran said, softly. "I'm not the lighting up kind, I suppose. But I do really like it."
She turned quickly to hug him, then. He stood stiff and uncomfortable in the circle of her embrace, like he'd never been hugged, but then, awkwardly, returned it.
"You're a good lad," she said, softly, into his soft white hair. "I hope Owen knows how lucky he is."