“Where Westward Falls the Hill”
A Tomb Raider Christmas Short Story by Sarah Crisman
Scrisman@juno.com

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Dedicated to John Denver, without whom I never would have written this story. Thank you, Mister Denver…wherever you are.

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Lara closed the book, laid it gently on the nightstand next to her, and got out of bed. The cold floor mercilessly attacked her bare feet, but she located her slippers and slid into them easily. Yet another chilly December evening in an unbroken string of chilly December evenings. Three days until Christmas. And soon, it would only be two.
She looked down at the floor. As always, she had put up the tree, decorated it brightly, placed the star on top…but something was lacking. Winston’s gifts were under the tree, of course, as well as his presents for her. She had mailed out a few Christmas cards, received a few in return. Just the same as the other years. Nothing new.
Folding her robe carefully about her body, she walked through the hall and down the stairs into the massive foyer of her home. Smells of Christmas pasteries still lingered in the air outside of the kitchen, and she wandered over to a rack. Cute little reindeer, trees, stars, and assorted other common Christmas symbols had been cut from the dough and sat on the cooling rack. She pulled an elf from the conglomeration and bit into it. Once again, Winston’s cooking ability was proven as her taste buds tingled from the sugary dough.
She looked out the window. The snow had stopped falling several hours ago, and the gentle winds had given the white landscape an airbrushed look of perfection. Icicles hung from the eaves in front of her windows. The sky was clear. A thumbnail moon shone peacefully, surrounded by an entourage of sparkling pinpricks of light.
Lara finished the cookie, than headed again for the main hall. She opened the closet door and fished around inside, tossing boots, gloves, and a scarf on the floor behind her. Moments later, she had bedecked herself in a thick coat, large, fluffy mittens, a pair of boots, an insulated cap with ear flaps, and the large scarf from the floor. Looking like a transposed Eskimo, she went to the side exit and walked into the night.
Once outside, motion-sensing lights activated around her, and she walked toward the main gate. No one would be calling at this time of the night…
She opened it effortlessly, then swung it closed behind her as she wandered along the outer wall of her property. The crunch of the snow beneath her boots was her only companion, the footprints she left were the only evidence she had been there. Ice in the trees around her creaked in the wind as the branches jiggled ever so slightly.
Lara trudged to the end of the wall, then kept going. Up a slight incline she went, slowly climbing the path before her. Reaching the apex, she stopped under the large tree that marked the peak of the hill. From her lofty perch, Lara looked down into the valley below her.
Lara marveled at the sight. Instead of the loud, rambunctious style of London she had seen on previous nights, the small town in the valley bled pure tranquility. Soft, white lights flowed from the interiors of many of the homes. The street lamps were lit as well, casting a dim glow along paths that had been recently shoveled. As far as Lara could see, there were no blinking Christmas lights, no glimmering displays of things to be bought. People in the streets passed one another with casual nods of greeting.
The peal of the church bells reached Lara’s ears, ringing out the hour. One by one, Lara watched as a few people made their way out of the church and headed for home, their prayer service concluded.
From below, another sound arose. Laughter…
The music of the voices made Lara shiver. It was only children playing, sliding down the gentle slope on sleds, squealing as they were covered in a spray of snow or shouting in triumph as they made it to the bottom unscathed only to trudge back up the way they had come and try again.
Against her better judgement, Lara sat down in the snow. It was cold, but not unbearable. She listened to the voices, carried to her on the winds. Slowly, she leaned back against the tree. The stiffness of the trunk held her comfortably as she pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms about her knees.
She looked up in the sky again, then slowly shut her eyes. The cold wind blew across her face, making her shiver, but she made no move to leave. She felt the snow around her closing in gently, surrounding her. Protecting her. She smiled. It was so peaceful out here…
Lara’s mind began wandering. Suddenly, she was no longer sitting in the snow. Rather, she was standing on a different hill, watching sheep play and frolic around her. Instead of pistols, at her side she carried a walking staff. Sandals replaced boots. Coat, scarf and gloves had been transformed into a simple robe. But the voices were the same…
There was a music in the fields around her. What it was, she couldn’t tell, but it seemed as though the stars themselves had taken up a song. The sky was the same, and yet different. One star shone, brighter than the rest. So this is what it felt like…
From afar, Lara heard a new chorus of voices. She could not make out the words, but she understood them nonetheless. A calming tranquility descended over her, the peace of ages past. She gazed from the hill into the valley below. Soft light emanated from lanterns hung outside certain houses. Just like the village near my house…
One by one, the shepherds beside Lara stood and faced the village. They clucked and called to their flocks, which rose obediently and followed them as they made their way down the hill. She watched them go, watched them walk towards one building in particular. Below her, a bell sounded a deep and throaty gong. The singing in the air around her grew more audible, yet remained quiet at the same time. The voices surrounded her, penetrated her, left her with a tingling feeling. She felt a pressure on her shoulder, prodding her. Shaking her. She heard her name called.
Lara gazed into the valley below, softly listening to the music around her, then took a step forward.

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“Lara?”
She awoke, sitting forward with a sharp inhalation. A puff of steam issued forth from her mouth as she breathed out. The valley below her was silent. She looked up to her right, where she felt a hand on her shoulder. The careworn face of Winston stared back at her. She blinked, shook her head, and looked back at the valley. Snowflakes gently drifted in the air before her, filling in the impressions made by the children with their sleds. None of the children were around. The church bell rang out the hour. The echo gently receded into the night air as she looked up at Winston again.
“Miss Croft?”
She nodded.
“I believe you fell asleep out here in the snow,” Winston continued.
Lara frowned, and nodded a second time.
“Do you not think a bed is a better place to rest?” her butler continued.
Lara considered this for a moment, then shook her head. She looked away from Winston, and tried to recreate the sounds of the children playing in her mind. I was there… She closed her eyes and leaned back against the tree again.
Winston regarded the view before him, then did a very un-butler-like thing. He gathered his coat round himself and sat down upon the ground next to his employer. “It is rather peaceful out here,” he admitted.
Lara tilted her head to the side, and rested it on the older gentleman’s shoulder. In her mind, she heard the music once again, as in her dream.
And it was good.

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This story is based on a piece of poetry by Robert Bridges entitled, “Noel: Christmas Eve 1913.” The text can be read at http://personal.bhm.bellsouth.net/bhm/l/g/lgriner/christmas/noel.htm. To everyone who reads this, I bid you the best in these times, no matter what you believe.

Peace in our times,
Sarah