Christmas at Aunt Delphie's was always something special: you see, she had these
 dolls. I'm not talking your sweet'n'innocent, butter-wouldn't, pretty-plastic-pink
damn 'plections, neither. Nossir, these two were a hotdamned hellacious pair o'
harridans wi' th' spirit o' slyness in their looks. Even when they was sittin' still you
just knew they was waitin' f'r ye t' look away e'en f'r a split-second so's they'd be
in an' do a mischief immediately y'r attention was elsewhere.                                                                                       

Houd y'r whistle now, f'r in't it meself that's speakin', an tellin' yiz so ye'll no f'rget
 the specifics an' the finest details o' th' history! 'tis as always was the plight an'
bane o' the life of a seanch'ai t' tell the tales as they was told to him in his time,
for all to hear and remember down the years – an' me with what must surely be the
 driest throat in Christendom, and no libation to ease the words from me gullet…
Merciful Heavens! What's this but a minor miracle, a tall glass of cooling amber
fluid appearing in my most unworthy hand!

This brace o' beldames had names as foul as their faces. Becuma and Beldona
were they yclept, twins who vied incessantly, each striving her utmost to prove
that she was uglier, more spiteful and more foul than the other. Ugly as sin, 'tis
said, and as God and His Blessed Son's my witness they were indeed just as ugly
on the inside as they appeared to the world at large.  
                                                
But didn't Aunt Delphie have the measure o' them both, indeed! For she'd long
since separated the squabbling siblings and secured each with strong sorcerous
spells within the confines of a leathern quiver such as might be used by a giant for
his arrows. These she fastened to a cord which encircled her considerable girth
where they could scream insults each to the other all day long, and never come to
blows.

An' sure, but the burden was light for Aunt Delphie, for didn't she stand a full
twelve foot and some to spare. Tireless legs she had that could carry her three
and four times the length of a marching Roman's snail pace in one single stride.
'Twas little wonder she seemed to appear wherever she was needed, an her
snick-snack sword flailing amongst the bodies of all who dared stand agin her!                                             

Aunt Delphie was of the traditional persuasion, and those who knew her well could
attest that she considered the longest night – Yule on December 21st – of far more
 importance than the festival of the 'New Religion' commemorated four days later.
And the dolls …. aah, the dolls! – weren't they just the centre of attention for all,
that night? But I mustn't be getting' ahead o' mesel', and our journey but barely
begun, for fear we may be faced wi' a cold and grey end to our travellin' together,
should we have neither song nor story to lighten our step as nightfall approache

Ah, but the Dolls, now! Though no self-respectin', God-fearin', goin-to-church-on-a-
holyday Christian chile would thank ye f'r one, so ugly an' foul o' both temper an'
mouth as they were! For 'twas at this time, as winter's grip begins for the first time
to loosen, when Aunt Delphie would mark the turn o' the year away from the nadir
o' the longest night and towards a new season o' growth wi' a family feast.             

Far and wide they were sent with family invitations, and when they came home once
 more they were set to cleaning and polishing until the hall, its glass and vitrines, its
cornishes and furnishings, sparkled and shone as if they were new. They put the
fear o' God into the half o' them they sought out, an' the fear o' th' de'il into the
remainder, so 'twas a foregone and written certainty that all who received the
invitation were present at the Yule festival.

Guests on arriving at the Hall were unable to recognize the comely wenches who
greeted them and took their furs at the door as the same ill-favoured pair who had
but newly delivered their mistress' invitations. For Aunt Delphie had spun a
glamour, ensorcelling both the vision and the hearing of her visitors. Try though
they might – for indeed, try they most certainly did! – Becuma and Beldona
discovered that they were totally unable to circumvent, bypass or in any other wise
obfuscate the efficacy of the charm Delphie had laid upon them. Though they railed
and raged, venting their plaint 'gainst the very vault of Heav'n, Delphie's power
was more than adequate, and the Dolls were unable to counter the spell which
bound them. 

One of Delphie's cousins, Finn, arrived last of all the guests, accompanied by his
favourite hound, Bran. Five feet to the shoulder Bran stood, and Delphie prevailed
upon him to leave the wolfhound outside the Hall, where he was permitted to sleep
on the threshold and guard the assembled guests.

Becuma and Beldona, furious at the way Delphie had forced them to dance like
manicured marionettes, agreed to meet and plot their revenge if they saw their
mistress' attention wane as the feasting progressed. And so it came to pass, as the
night lengthened and the candles shortened, they sought each other out in the
shadow of the massive wolfhound, who slept soundly across the hall's entrance
doors.

"Away, now!" breathes Becuma in Beldona's ear, "  … for our mistress is deep in
her cups, and heeds us not! Now, mayhap, is our bestest chance to wreak mischief!"

"What would you, dearest sister mine?" croaks Beldona, turning her back on the
festivities, concealing them both beneath her cloak. "You cannot hope to conjure a
spell to compare with even the least of our mistress' enchantments!"

 "That, sister, is plain truth, I do concede: yet here, right here, outside this very
 door, we have a chance unlooked-for! Didst not see how the mighty Delphie did
flinch and back off when cousin Finn led his hound o'er the hill? I tell you, she
harbours a genuine fear f'r th' cray-ture! We needs but to befriend it, then use it to
attack her! If we remain canny 'bout our actions, she will never suspect us!"

"And how had you thought to secure the services of a monster that size?" Beldona
countered.

"Sure, and we do it the same way we'd manage any male: we tempt it with
something delicious, something it cannot resist! Remember, sister, the surest way
to any male heart is through his stomach!" 

Cunning as he was, Bran lay and feigned sleep. When Becuma approached to rouse
 him he stretched, gaping his jaws to their full width and spraying her with saliva.
She skittered backwards in fear, and fell on her face before the mastiff.

"My sister and I have prepared a plate of choice tidbits for you: will you not accept
our offerings?"

 Becuma and Beldona did then so pat and caress the hound, murmuring what they
believed were soothing endearments and extravagant flatterings, praising his
beauty, his strength, and his courage. And all the while did Bran roll and play, with
 the occasional grunts of pleasure and obsequiousness which were entirely false,
for his loyalties were never directed to anyone other than his master, Finn.

Pretending yet a while, for it did suit him so to do, Bran knelt to encourage the
brazen pair to clamber upon his shoulders, where they might have a first-hand view
 of the chase in comfort Both of them howled with glee and anticipation as Bran
shot off giving tongue with all his might as he hurtled the length of the Hall.

 Their howls of joy were quickly turned to screams of dread, despair and
double-cross, however, when Bran saw fit to plant his massive paws against the
lowest of the stone steps which raised the dining table above the rest of the hall.
Having nothing more than a handful of neck hair to hold on to, the dolls sailed high
 into the air as Bran came to a sudden stop, and landed most ungracefully in a bowl
 filled with a mess of potage in the centre of the table.

 How was the biter bit! For Delphie had sensed what the pair were minded to, and
in a flash rendered them witless, lifeless, stiff wooden dolls once more – and ugly
ones, at that! Spells deep she wove upon them, that they might ever see but never
more feel the freedom of movement and reason as once they had: and, indeed,
 what more lasting punishment could she have wrought? For 'tis not unlike being
sat outside a well-appointed alehouse on a hot summer's day, not having even the
 coppers required for a small glass o' poor ale upon one's person, an' y'r throat dry
 from a long afternoon's telling o' tales……..