A Real Christmas Soldier

Gerald couldn't believe it was already Grishmas. The snow outside covering his Agurbub home-world of Farrengar was beautiful and pure. It's fluffy whiteness enchanted him as he waited for his mother to come out with his winter clothes. His family had gone to Temple today where his grandfather had given them to him. He'd been so excited he wore them straight through the service.
Now his whole family was getting ready for their dinner and there was time for Gerald to go sledding with friends. His mother finally came out with his things ready and waiting. He jumped into them, carefully buttoning every button and cinching every strap. When all was said and done, his mother only had to straighten a few things. "Roger! Frank! Come look at you're little soldier!" She said straightening with a huge grin. Gerald stood at his best attention while his father and grandfather ambled in the room. "Oh!" His grandfather said picking him up and swinging him around, "My little Commandant! Are you off to go fight the good fight and sled the good sled?" Gerald nodded "That's my little Commandant."
"Have I ever told you about what it means to be a real soldier?" He asked sitting in an ancient chair in the living room. He had a million times but Gerald loved to hear so he shook his head no as he sat cross legged on the floor. "You little luger, I know I have." But he chuckled and continued anyway, "When I was apart of the glorious Agurbub army, with the rank of Commandant under my belt," He winked at Gerald, "I was placed in charge of the 3rd Infantry Battalion. The toughest bunch of men you ever saw, but lacking in discipline of all kinds. I turned them into real soldiers by teaching them the edicts of what a true soldier is. A soldier is a man, not a mouse. A soldier is a thinker, not a thrall.  A soldier is a protector, not a perpetrator. A soldier is giving not greedy. Finally, a soldier is kind, not cruel." Gerald mouthed the tenets from memory along as his grandfather said them. "Go, my little Commandant. Have fun."
Gerald sprinted his way all the way across town towing his sled behind him. He moved faster than he ever had before, urged on by his grandfather and his new boots. He had made it almost all the way to the park when he saw them. He had taken the back shortcut through an alley when he saw four boys huddled in a corner. Three were standing over the fourth. Gerald slowed to a halt. He saw the boy on the ground was a Fluben in very old and tattered snow clothes. his nose was bleeding and he was breathing hard. The three boys around him were laughing. They were Agurbubs from two grades above Gerald. Gerald was scared and began to keep walking, thinking it'll handle itself, when his Grandfather's voice broke his thoughts. "A soldier is a man, not a mouse." Gerald turned. "Hey." He said as powerfully as he could. It came out a sort of loud squeak. The three boys stopped and turned to look at him. "What do YOU want?" The biggest one said getting up into Gerald's face, towering over him. "Leave him alone." The older boy laughed, "Just leave US alone, loser." He turned back to his cronies. Gerald almost left when he remembered, "A soldier is a thinker, not a thrall." Gerald said again, with more power, "Leave him alone!" The three turned to look at him, glanced at each other and advanced. The beat Gerald up in a prompt, business-like fashion. They then returned to torment their original target. Gerald was wheezing as he saw his blood color the snow.He could only see out of two of his eyes. He unsteadily gained his footing as he stood. "A soldier is a protector, not a perpetrator." His Grandfather whispered. Gerald glanced at his sled and picked it up and slowly moved toward the largest boy. The three were so distracted they didn't notice the small Agurbub come up from behind until, "Hey, you!" The biggest boy turned around as Gerald brought the sled crashing down on his head, snapping it in two. The other two saw their leader passed out in the snow and decided to beat a hasty retreat. Gerald was still wheezing as he watched them scatter and run. He then glanced at the Fluben in the snow. His feet were in rags and his coat in tatters. Gerald remembered, "A soldier is giving, not greedy." He promptly removed his coat and boots. "Take these," He said, "They're a lot warmer than yours I bet." The Fluben took them carefully and put them on as best he could. Gerald helped and at the end, they were way to big, but the boy was warm. The Fluben then gave Gerald a huge hug. He returned it as he remembered, "A soldier is kind, not cruel." They then waved goodbye and Gerald began the walk home, coatless, shoeless, and sledless.
After the long trek, he arrived at his door a little before dark and walked inside. He entered the kitchen where his mother saw him and performed a double-take. "ROGER! FRANK!" She went over to her son and began to fuss with him and was soon joined by his father and grandfather. They were all asking what happened and when they finally slowed down, Gerald told them. As he finished he said, "I got really scared a few times but then I remembered what a true soldier was Grandpa. A man, not a mouse. A thinker, not a thrall. A protector, not a perpetrator. Giving, not greedy. Kind, not cruel." His elders stared in stunned silence when his grandfather stood straight up and saluted him in military fashion. He then dropped to his knees and hugged Gerald crying tears and whispered, "My little Commandant..."