Mid-winter was the best time of year, full of wonder and
excitement. The trees surrounding Lasgalen were leafless, frosted
with white. At twilight on mid-winter’s eve they were bare, still
beautiful in their stark simplicity; but bare. By dawn on
mid-winter’s day the branches were festooned with ribbons, brightly
wrapped sweetmeats and trinkets. There were gifts for all.
None knew who put them there. Elflings tried hard to stay awake,
determined that this year
they would watch, yet, inevitably, they slept. When they awoke,
the trees were dressed in their bright finery.
It was part of the magic of mid-winter.