On the ninety-third day of her reign in Narnia, Queen Helen the First decided that knowing the date would be a good idea.

"It was the twenty-first when we were called here by the Lion, and it's been about three moths here, that makes it the twenty-fifth of December back in London, its Christmas, Frank, and I have naught to offer—Him. Not you, darling, but more importantly, what if He's expecting something, and we haven't even got a roast in the oven! Oh! We haven't even got an oven." Queen Helen stared dejectedly at her breakfast, an arrangement of fruits and nuts that the Beasts had brought their monarchs from the winter stores.

"Helen, my love, I'm sure He doesn't need us to give him anything—"

"Of course he doesn't need it!" She replied, picking an apple from the pile and waving it in the air before she took a bite. She chewed for a moment, then swallowed and apologized for interrupting her husband-her king. There was a twitter from behind her, and a moment later, a Robin landed on her shoulder.

"Majesty," the Robin began, "We have been listening, and we have a question to ask of you."

Helen and Frank were, after three months of it, quite used to having their conversations heard by all the Beasts within earshot. Their beautiful and young, childlike subjects were delighted by the two legged creatures, and seemed to never tire watching and listening to them. Frank felt the same way at times, and spent quite a lot of time with a Bear and a Fox, learning to hunt and fish for the non-talking beasts. Both king and queen could tell the difference; something in the animal's eye, they way they held themselves…it was just a sense of knowing their subjects from, well, their food.

"Ask, Friend," Helen was saying, and Frank forced himself to stop his mind wandering all over Narnia.

"What," the Robin said, "Is a roast?"

Helen burst out laughing, and Frank smiled at the grunts and sighs from the other Animals. Robins were insatiably curious and always asking the wrong questions.

"It's a way of preparing a meal," Helen supplied.

"It's a Christmas tradition from where we came," Frank said. "We don't need to bring all that here, Helen."

"Oh, but Frank, Christmas isn't just about the roast and the gifts!"

"Gifts?" Mewled a tabby, coming closer to Frank, and gazing at Helen wide-eyed.

"Yes. At Christmas we give our loved ones gifts, but that isn't the real reason for the celebration. The reason we do all this is because—because… We do it for… Aslan," she said, and paused. "We have a story back in that place, a story about a baby boy, a Son of Adam, who was a king, truly, but he was not born as a king would be born. Tell me, friends, how would you have a king's birth?"

"Oh, in a grand, earthy cave, with lots of fresh leaves and extra food," a Badger supplied.

"No, it should be in the open, so that everyone can witness the beautiful thing," a Mare said, and whinnied. "An honour, it would be, to witness the birth of a king."

"As long as the Son of Adam is fed and watered, does it matter where he is born?" asked the Robin.

"Helen," Frank said softly, "Is this perhaps the best way of going about it? I mean, we look at it from a bit of a human perspective, you know."

Helen opened her mouth and shut it. And opened it again. "I think I meant to say, friends, that where we come from, things are a bit… different, one could say. Yes, quite different. The way that the king who was born was treated…well, it was terrible. But he was loved by those who … others…" Helen stopped again, and sighed. "Frank, I'm no good at this. I can't tell stories the way you tell them."

"You're doing a fine job, Helen."

"You tell it."

There was a moment of quiet anticipation among the animals, as king Frank closed his eyes and thought of a way to begin. A few younger animals, pups and kits, wiggled closer, and waited attentively.

"Gather around me, listeners, friends, as I tell the tale from the far off lands. A tale of evil and of good, and of kind hearted shepherds and sheep. A tale of bravery and some sadness too, and a joy everlasting for me and for you.

A wicked king once ruled this far off land, and many people—his subjects—suffered. There was an old prophesy that had been told of a new king who would come, one who would free them from the wicked king, who would love every one of his subjects, and would always listen to their needs, and do what was best for them. But the good king took so long to come that many people forgot the prophesy.

"Finally, a messenger, a great celestial being ("Like a star?" interrupted a rabbit), came to a young Daughter of Eve, and told her that she would be the king's mother. The Daughter was not a noble woman—she was of low birth, and in those times, a low-born one could not be the parent of a king. But the message came from the King of all Kings himself—a great king like Aslan. The Daughter of Eve was willing, and after a while, the Son of Adam, who she was to marry, understood the task that was before them. The Son had been skeptical and confused as to why all this was happening, but he was patient, and eventually understood.

"The wicked king issued a decree—something like a command, Robin—that everyone was to return to their birth place. Since many of the subjects had traveled to far away lands, this was very hard, but the Son of Adam and the Daughter of Eve began their journey. They arrived, finally, after long weeks of travel, and it came that the time was nigh for the baby king to be born. But their hometown—a gathering of dwellings—was crowded with other travelers, and there was nowhere for them to stay.

"At long last, they found an innkeeper—someone who offers a sleeping place for a price of coin or other payment—who had not a room for them, but a stable. The stable was in a cave, but it was not as nice as the beautiful caves you make, Badger, because you see, the animals were not Talking Beasts, and their masters simply fashioned the place to keep the animals dry and warm. It was, really, no place for a True King. But there he was born, and it was from that day that the world had the hope of a saviour. Out on the hills beyond, there were human sheep herders guarding their flocks in the dead of night. A great many celestial beings appeared to them, and sang praise and were filled with joy and good news at the coming of the new baby kids, and though the sheep herders were afraid at first, they soon learned they had no reason to be. They hastened to see the king for themselves, and were so glad when they met him. They had nothing to give, though, but pure praise and blessing over his life. They gave him their love and oaths of fealty, and bowed before the babe's majesty. So, you see, we celebrate the birth of a king, even though it was many years ago. A kind of name-day celebration, it might be called."

There was another silence as the animals and queen Helen contemplated.

"Where do the gifts come in then?" A young cheetah cub asked, and his mother growled at him for his lack of manners.

King Frank laughed before replying: "I've forgotten a key part of the story, Friends! You see, the King of all Kings, the one like Aslan himself in that world, the baby—that was his son. The King sent his son to be king on earth, like a gift, and all who wish to receive this gift, may indeed receive it. So, we give gifts to symbolize the King giving his son as a gift."

"What kind of gifts?" Boar asked.

"Any kind, for it matters not the content, but the thought behind it." Frank smiled at them, and then at Helen. "You see, dear, Aslan himself would not need a gift from us, because our service to him is what we have to offer now. I think perhaps that is the best gift we can give to him. There are no shops for us to go to, no ovens for us to roast in, but that doesn't matter. We give out service and love to the Lion; I believe that is enough for him."

Helen smiled at her husband and king, and turned her gaze back to the mouth of the cave. There were thickly woven branches covering the entrance, but the snowstorm could still be heard raging outside.

"Love…" said an owl from its perch above them, "Love is a gift. It is the greatest gift, queen Helen, and today, this Christmas day in Narnia, we give each other the greatest gift. Love." The bird too-wooed, and closed it's eyes again, leaving Helen to muse over the wise words.

Love, yes, love was the greatest gift, and by the Lion, love was all she had for Aslan. So this Christmas she would give naught but her love to him.

She smiled, and reached down to rub the belly of the cheetah cub (before he grew too old to be undignified by this). Helen paused as she almost thought he heard sleigh bells outside...