Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

As usual, these are not my characters. They belong to J.R. Tolkien. Just having a bit of holiday fun here, no money involved.
G.W.

“What do you suppose we’ll get this year, Merry?” Pippin asked squirming underneath the blankets and keeping Merry from falling asleep.

“If you don’t lay still, I shall get up before you do on Yule and toss all of your gifts into the Brandywine,” Merry growled. This had been going on far too long and he was losing his patience with the small hobbit.

“Oh, yes I will,” Merry said. “Now, go to sleep, Pip.” Merry wrapped himself in the covers and burrowed down below them in an attempt to block out any further noise that Pippin might make.

Pippin continued to sit up in the large bed. He just didn’t see how Merry could sleep. Yule was in two days! He realized that his cousin was older, but still, Merry would be getting gifts too. Didn’t Merry wonder what he might be getting? Wasn't he the least bit interested? Pippin supposed that once you were the grown up age of fifteen, Yule wasn’t as exciting. Still, how could Merry sleep at a time like this?

“Merry? Are you asleep yet Merry? If you’re not, then I thought maybe we could go scout around for our presents.” Pippin whispered this idea hopefully.

“How can I be asleep with you in the room?” Merry groaned. "However, that is a splendid idea, Pip! Why don’t *you* go scout around for the presents? Then, you can come back and tell me what you've found,” Merry yawned.

“Why not? You are the one that wants to go and it’s not like you’d get lost or anything. You’ve been here hundreds of times so you know your way around,” Merry mumbled and put the pillow over his head.

“I guess I could do that. It won’t be as much fun if you don’t go, but I guess I could do that.” Pippin seemed to be trying to convince himself. The seven-year-old didn’t like the dark very much and Brandy Hall would be mostly dark at this time of night. Also, sneaking around on his own really wouldn’t be as much fun. “Are you sure you won’t be sorry later that you didn’t come along?”

“I’m certain,” Merry mumbled and pulled the pillow tighter around his ears.

Pippin stood up on the bed, walked over to the edge and jumped softly to the floor. “Well, if you’re certain?”

“Fine then. I will go and even though you aren’t going, if I find any of your gifts, I will try to see what they are. All right, Merry?” Pippin whispered a bit too loudly as he started toward the door.

Pippin took a deep breath and let himself out of the room. Once out in the dark hallway, the small hobbit child began to have second thoughts. It was very dark and this was a very long hall. Maybe I should just go back in and crawl into bed with Merry. It's only two more days until Yule. I can wait that long. Pippin thought as he reached for the door handle. 'No. You are seven years old and you are not afraid of the dark. Well, you shouldn’t be afraid of the dark. So there. You are going to find your Yule gifts and Merry Yule gifts too. That will surprise him,' Pippin told himself as he put one hand on the wall to guide himself along in the dark and set out to find his gifts.

He thought the best place to begin his search was in the cellar. The Brandybucks kept lots of things in the cellar. One time, he and Merry had found the gifts that Uncle Saradoc was going to give everyone on his birthday. That had been excellent! Well, it had been excellent until Aunt Esme had found them peeking into the packages and had taken them to Uncle Saradoc’s study to ‘explain themselves’. Explaining these things was never easy and in the end, even if you explained it all perfectly well, grown-ups were still angry. He wished that Merry were coming with him. He didn’t like the cellar when he was alone. Maybe he should look for his presents some place else like the kitchen!

There wasn’t too much chance that his presents were in the kitchen, but well, if they were in the kitchen then it was much better than that old cellar. He’d look in the kitchen and if he didn’t find them then he’d look in the cellar. That made sense. Good thinking, Pippin. Besides, he was a bit hungry. He’d get something to eat while he was looking for his gifts. There should be some of that pudding left from dinner. Well, maybe there should be. He and Merry had eaten an awful lot of it.

Pippin was thinking about the pudding when he noticed a light gleaming near the cellar door at the far end of the hall. Well, now that was interesting. Hey, maybe it was Merry looking for him. Of course! Merry would go right to the cellar because Merry wouldn’t be afraid. “Merry? Is that you?” Pippin whispered as he made his way to the cellar door. There was no answer. “Merry? Are you trying to scare me? I’m not a baby, Merry and I’m not scared so if it’s you just say so,” Pippin whispered nervously. He inched his way to the cellar door. Taking a deep breath, he poked his head inside and looked around. He couldn’t see anyone, but there was some light coming from down the cellar stairs. It had to be Merry because everyone else would be asleep.

Pippin began to ease quietly down the stairs in the direction of the light. He was less scared than he would have been if there had been no light. Besides, he was certain that someone was down here and that someone was Merry. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, looked around, but still saw no one. There was a lantern on the floor by some boxes in the far corner but no Merry.

Boxes! This might be it! This had to be it! Someone had been hiding gifts and had forgot their lantern. In his excitement, Pippin forgot all about being quiet. He hurried over to the pile of boxes. These didn’t seem to be the sort of boxes into which folks would normally put Yule gifts. This was a really big bunch of boxes and they seemed kind of old and heavy looking. They were very dusty as if no one had bothered about them in a while. That was odd, but still, they would be the perfect for hiding place for Yule gifts for small hobbits because no one would expect it!

Pippin slid the lantern out of the way and off to the side a bit. He didn’t want to knock it over and wind up in the dark down here. If one of the boxes fell, he didn’t want it to fall on top of the lantern. You don’t want to set your Yule gifts on fire, Pippin. Be very careful. He stood up onto his toes stretching as far as he could in order to get a better look at what might be inside the boxes but this wasn’t any help at all. When this didn’t get him a better view, he began to jump up and down. This didn’t work either and he was quite certain that it was making too much noise. He had to find something to climb on top of and then he could see into the boxes. Pippin frowned and glanced around the cellar. What could he use?

There was a knocking sound. Merry moaned. Why was there a knocking sound? What was Pippin doing now? Hadn’t Merry sent him off on a wild goose chase? Was he back already? Merry pulled the pillow over his ears again and mumbled, “Go away.”

“Merry, this is important. Get up you lazy oaf.” It was Frodo’s voice. Was everyone up? What time was it?

“Go away, Frodo. I just went to sleep a few minutes ago,” Merry moaned and rolled over on his back.

Frodo sat down on the bed and smiled. “Get up, Merry. I’ve found something.”

“Don’t tell me that you are rummaging about the Hall looking for your Yule gifts at your age!” Merry said in disbelief. He sat up and glared at Frodo.

“My Yule gifts?” Frodo looked confused. “I’m not looking for my gifts and you shouldn’t be either, Merry Brandybuck.” Frodo’s voice had turned stern.

“Do I look as if I am hunting for my Yule gifts? I seem to be the only hobbit in this entire smial that is trying to get some sleep!” Merry said, exasperated. “What are you doing you silly Baggins?”

“Very well. Suit yourself. I just won’t show you what I’ve found,” Frodo said turning his back on his cousin and sitting on the bed facing the hall door.

Merry rolled over and got out of bed. If Frodo had found something then it would most certainly be worth knowing about. He supposed that he could sleep later. “What is it?”

“How should I know? He said he was going to scout around the hall for his Yule gifts. I don’t figure he’s gone too far. He's probably raiding the kitchen,” Merry grinned. “Now, what have you found?”

The chair was old but it would hold one skinny seven year old. Pippin pushed it over to the pile of boxes and climbed onto it carefully. He was up on his toes again looking into a very large wooden box when all of the sudden the entire pile of boxes began to shift. Pippin realized at this moment that he had maybe pulled too hard on the lip of the box and now things were tottering. Pippin tried to reverse the effect by pushing his back against the box. If he pushed it in the other direction then it might not fall. It might just level out.

The box was moving back! Good job, Pippin! You did it! Oops! You did it all right! Now he and the box were falling in the other direction. Pippin waved his arms wildly and tried to regain his balance but it was hopeless. He and the boxes were tumbling out of control to the floor. His feet were no longer on the rickety old chair.”Eeeeek!” Pippin yelled as the entire stack fell to the floor along with him.

There was stuff everywhere! And what a load of stuff it was! Old Yule decorations! Pretty colored glass balls and sparkling metal balls on ribbons and lots of festive stuff on little bits of string. It was pretty even if some of it had broken when it hit the floor. Miraculously, Pippin seemed to have landed in the middle of it all with no noticeable injury. How did that happen? Pippin tried to stand and found that he couldn’t. He wasn’t hurt but he was tangled up in something. What was this? The little hobbit squirmed about trying to get free of whatever it was that was holding him in place but with no success. It seemed the more he struggled, the more tangled up he became.
*********************************

“What was that?” Merry frowned as he and Frodo shut the door to his room and emerged out in the hall. There had been some sort of a crash. Not a very loud one. It was kind of muffled, but still something rather heavy had fallen.

“I don’t know.” Frodo whispered. “Oh, no! The cellar!” Frodo croaked taking off in the direction of the open cellar door with Merry at his heels.

“Someone must be down there. I can see a light!” Merry announced as they neared the door.

“I was down there eirlier. That’s my light. I left the lantern when I decided to come and get you.” Frodo answered over his shoulder. The two of them reached the stairs and started down.

“Get this off me! Help! Somebody get me out of this!” Frodo and Merry stopped on the stairs and exchanged long-suffering looks. The voice was most definitely Pippin’s and the child sounded a bit scared.

“I am afraid I may know what.” Frodo sighed as he and Merry clamored down the stairs and into the cellar. The sight that met their eyes caused both of them to double over with laughter.

Frodo and Merry were trying to compose themselves but it was nearly impossible. This was just too funny. Pippin was sitting on the dusty cellar floor amid hundreds of colored Yule decorations. Some of them were still rolling about and others had come to rest in small piles. Some of them were, unfortunately, broken, but not so many as you might think considering that all of the wooden boxes were scattered about. Pippin was sitting all trussed up in the middle of the mess. Somehow, he had managed to get himself tangled in a long, sparkling, strand of tinsel. The small seven year old was unable to move his arms as the tinsel was wrapped tightly about him from neck to waist. One foot was stuck in the broken seat of an old chair and the other foot was tangled in an old string of dried cranberries. To make matters even more amusing, there were tiny bits of sparkling coloured paper all over the child. Merry and Frodo were laughing so hard that they had tears streaming down their faces.

“Help! It’s not funny! Get this stuff off me!” Pippin shrieked. “It fell on me! Merry, please! Frodo? Don't laugh at me!”

Merry bit his lower lip and strained to gain control. "Did you find your Yule presents, Pip Squeak?”

“No! Just all this old junk. Please help me. Frodo?” Pippin was becoming desperate.

“We should leave you here, you little scamp,” Frodo said trying to sound stern. “You know you aren’t suppose to go looking for your Yule gifts.”

“But Merry said I could!” Pippin objected. “You did say that! Tell Frodo that you did, Merry!”

Merry laughed. “I might have said something like that but I was desperate for a bit of sleep at the time.”

Pippin wiggled helpless. “Please get me out of this. I’ll be good. I promise I will.”

A voice from the top of the cellar stairs growled. “I don’t know who is down there but I could venture a guess.”

Pippin got very still and Merry and Frodo exchanged nervous looks. The voice belonged to Merry's father, Saradoc Brandybuck.

“I am going back to my warm, comfortable bed and I had better not wake up to a mess in the morning,” Saradoc said firmly. “Do you understand me?”

“Now whoever you are, I want you to clean up whatever sort of mess that you've made and then I want you to go to bed or I will throw all of your Yule presents in the Brandywine!”

Merry grinned and knelt down next to his little cousin. “You didn’t believe me when I threatened to do that. Why do you believe him?”

“Cause he probably knows where my Yule presents are,” Pippin sniffled looking worried. “Are you going to help me with this? Cause if you don’t then I won’t get anything for Yule and I won’t ever get out of this old decoration stuff.”

“Relax, Pip. We’ll get you out,” Merry grinned and he and Frodo began unwinding the tinsel from their squirming little cousin. As they worked, Merry grinned mischievously at Frodo and said, “So Frodo, are you going to tell me what *you* found in the cellar?”

“It seems a bit pointless now, Meriadoc, but if you must know, I found a great many wooden boxes in the cellar and all of them were filled with lovely Yule decorations,” Frodo said, sarcastically, as he helped Merry untie Pippin.

“Well, be careful with them, Frodo. If they are anything at all like these ones, then they could fall on you and you could get all hung up in them,” Pippin warned quite seriously.

This one was posted last year, but I thought that I would bring it back out for the holidays so if it looks as if you've read it before then you probably did. Anyway, here's a little Christmas story that I wrote last year.

G.W. (reposting on 11/27/2005)
*********************************

These are not my hobbits. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I am only using them to celebrate Yule with. Happy Holidays!

G.W. 12/20/2004

Pippin is 16, Merry is 24, and Frodo is 38

***********************************
"Making Merry, Merry"

“Merry, what’s the matter?” Pippin asked, coming over and sitting next to his older cousin. Merry was seated on the sofa in front of the fireplace. “You seem so sad.”

“I’m not really sad, Pip,” Merry answered smiling with effort. Pippin could tell that the smile was strictly for his benefit. He wasn’t at all convinced. Merry patted Pippin on the shoulder and said, “I’m not the best of company at the moment, Pip. Why don’t you go on and have a good time?”

“I’m fine,” Pippin said, not wanting to leave Merry. “I’ll just sit here with you until you feel better.” He made himself comfortable on the sofa and made an effort to sit still and keep quiet.

Merry sighed and resumed staring into the fireplace, slouching down a bit more on the sofa. He didn’t look over at Pippin and he didn’t say anything.

Pippin waited. Merry would tell him what was wrong as soon as he was ready. If he sat still and was patient then Merry would say something telling. Then he would know how to help. It was just a matter of waiting. He shifted a bit, decided to sit on his hands to be safe, and waited. And waited. And waited. “Merry?” he finally said, in a tiny voice.

Merry smiled, resigned. Poor Pippin simply couldn’t sit still and be quiet. It was asking too much. It was unnatural for his younger cousin. “Yes, Pip?” Merry answered, but didn’t look at him because he didn’t want Pippin to see the amusement in his eyes.

“Is there anything that I can do?” Pippin asked, putting a hand on Merry’s arm. “Can I get you something? I think that there’s some left over Yule food in the kitchen. Maybe there's even some of the roast chicken.” The thought of the roast chicken made Pippin’s mouth water. He found himself hoping that Merry wanted something. Surely a nice snack would help matters.

Poor, Pippin. He only wanted to help. It wouldn’t hurt to let him bring go and get a snack for the two of them. Merry didn’t know if a eating would help much, but roast chicken did sound like a splendid idea. “I suppose that I could eat some chicken if there is any left, which I doubt,” Merry answered. He nearly laughed at how fast his younger cousin sprang up from the sofa.

“I’ll be right back, Merry,” Pippin said, moving toward the door. He thought he could see the hint of a smile in Merry’s eyes now. Maybe he had just been hungry. “I’ll get some pudding too and maybe some bread and cheese and…”

Pippin’s voice faded as he left the room at a near-run continuing to list foods as he went. Merry snickered. That ridiculous Took was so funny sometimes. The most amusing thing about Pippin was that he never realized that he was doing anything amusing.

Merry sighed deeply and continued to stare at the fire. Another Yule over and on to another year. Merry wondered why everyone went to so much trouble and worked so hard. What was it for? Surely it wasn’t just an excuse to get the family together. He lived with much of his family and he saw the rest of them quite regularly. In fact, he saw some of them far more than he would have liked. It couldn’t be for the food, could it? They had good food all year round. His mum was an excellent cook and they always had wonderful meals. When his mum didn't do the cooking, the lasses that worked in the Brandy Hall kitchen prepared delicious food for them all. It couldn’t just be about the food.

He sighed again. Everything felt so sad once Yule was finally over and so rushed before. Why did they do it? Maybe it was for the gifts. No, someone was always having a birthday and so there were plenty of gifts all of the time. Besides, Merry didn’t really need anything. He had always had everything that he needed. He couldn’t remember getting something that he really needed for Yule that he wouldn’t have got otherwise. He didn’t suppose that it could be the gifts.

It couldn’t be the decorations because he’d heard both of his parents complain about how much trouble those were to put up and take down every year. In fact, he’d heard his father suggest that they simply leave them up year round to save time. Merry smiled at that thought. His poor father had been on a ladder in the middle of the great Hall at the time with his mum calling up instructions to him. Merry’s father didn’t like ladders any more than Merry did.

Maybe it was so the little ones could have a special day. Merry doubted this at once as the little ones always had a good time. He’d watched them this morning as they had opened their gifts laughing and eating candy and enjoying every minute. All of them had eaten far too much candy before second breakfast. They had hardly been able to sit still through first breakfast in anticipation of their gifts. None of them had sat still during lunch. It was probably all of the candy at work, that or the urge to get back to their new toys.

Merry had been able to sit still during first breakfast quite well. There had been bacon and ham and eggs and scones and freshly cooked apples in sugar and ever so many lovely things. If Pippin hadn’t been in such a hurry to get to the gifts, Merry supposed that he might have sat there enjoying his meal until it was time for the next one. Pippin had been all energy and excitement from the minute they’d sat down. He was only sixteen after all and so he was still young enough to be excited by the Yule gifts.

Merry had been dragged by his energetic little cousin into the great Hall where the gifts were before he’d had a chance to finish his meal properly. He’d had corners that still could have done with a bit more filling, but Pippin was in such a hurry. Merry smiled at the memory of it all.

Pippin had tried to seem unconcerned about his gifts this year because he didn’t want anyone to think that he was a mere child. He'd tried right up until Yule morning and then he gave up all pretense. He charged into Merry’s room first thing that morning and landed on the bed at full force. “Merry! Merry! Wake up, Merry! It’s Yule,” Pippin had said as he pulled Merry’s covers back and shook him.

Merry remembered coming awake with a laugh. He had teased Pippin about his sudden change of heart. “What happened to the lad that was all grown up and didn't care about Yule gifts? Where did he go?”

Slightly embarrassed, Pippin faltered for a split second. Then blushing to the tips of his ears he said, “Well, maybe I'm a wee bit excited. Surely you don’t want to wait any longer to open your Yule gifts do you? I mean the little ones will be waiting. It’s not fair to them, Merry.” Merry had crawled out of his bed and dressed in a hurry while Pippin bounced on the balls of his feet in anticipation.

“What are you doing in here all alone?” Frodo asked, interrupting Merry’s thoughts and sitting down on the sofa next to him.

Merry smiled at him. “I was just not in the mood for all of the singing and dancing and laughing that is going on down in the Hall and so I was hiding up here,” Merry explained. “I’m feeling a bit gloomy for some reason.”

“I have also had enough of the celebration,” Frodo admitted. “It is nice and quiet up here. Do you mind if I join you?”

“No, but be warned that it is not so quiet as you might think,” Merry said, grinning.

“Where is he?” Frodo asked, grinning back and looking about the room.

“He’s gone to the kitchens to get us a snack,” Merry said. “He’s trying to cheer me up, I’m afraid.”

Frodo grinned. “Pippin forgets that you are older now and less interested in Yule gifts and Yule games.” Frodo sighed. “I remember that feeling.”

“What feeling?” Merry asked, sure that he was missing something.

“Oh, the feeling that there is something missing that hits you at a certain age,” Frodo said. “It’s that sort of feeling where you wonder what all of the excitement is about. It has to do with suddenly being older.” Frodo smiled and looked into the fire. He did remember it. Merry was at about that age now and he suspected that his younger cousin had a feeling of being let down by the entire thing. It was hard to out-grow some of the more exciting moments of Yule.

“I suppose that’s what it might be,” Merry admitted. “It’s only that I don’t get as excited by the gifts or the candy or the games or, well, or any of it anymore. I wish I were ten again. I wish I could have a Yule like I had when I was small were every minute of it was wonderful.” He did wish that very much.

“I did too for a while, but then I began to enjoy it through you,” Frodo said, giving Merry’s hair a tug. “I would watch how happy it all made you and how excited you were and I would enjoy that.”

“If you’ve been doing that this year, then I suspect that you aren’t having a very good time,” Merry said. He looked down at his toes that were propped up on the table in front of him and sighed deeply. “I just can’t seem to completely enjoy any of it this year.”

“I noticed that,” Frodo smiled, sadly. “I suspected that this was the year that you had realized that it is a little bit different being one of the older lads than it is being one of the children. Oh, I know you aren’t of age yet, but you are old enough to have lost some of the magic of it.”

“I think that’s it,” Merry agreed. “I miss that, Frodo, don’t you?”

“I miss many things about Yule, Merry,” Frodo said, sadly. “I miss my parents. I miss Bilbo. I miss you being a little lad all covered in sticky candy and laughing as you opened your gifts, but I do love Yule all the same.”

“Why?” Merry asked.

“Because there are always little ones, Merry,” Frodo smiled. “Do you remember the first time that you led Pippin into the Great Hall to see the Yule presents beneath the big tree?”

Merry smiled. “He was three and I was eleven. When he caught sight of the tree his eyes got as round as a couple of ripe apples and his mouth fell open. He looked at it for such a long time. He was completely still for nearly a full minute!” They both laughed at this and then Merry continued. “He looked up at me and smiled. Then he tried to get to the tree and I had to hang on for dear life to keep him from going over and getting into all of it.”

“I think the best way to enjoy Yule as we grow older is to enjoy it with someone you love or through someone that you love,” Frodo said, hoping that he was helping his cousin. “The first year that it happens is always sad, but soon you find yourself trying to make things special for someone else.” Frodo smiled. “Bilbo told me the first year that he spent Yule at Brandy Hall with me after my parents had died that it was so sad that he had barely wanted to celebrate it at all, but that he had set his mind to making me smile at least once during the day and that helped him. He said that I gave him back his enjoyment of Yule.”

Merry looked over at his cousin and had a sudden urge to hug him. He wrapped his arms around him and gave him a very big hug. “Did he?” he asked into Frodo’s shoulder.

“Did he what?” Frodo asked, pulling back.

“Did Bilbo make you smile?” Merry asked.

“He did,” Frodo said. “He gave me a very old chess set that had belonged to my mother when she was a tween. Bilbo told me stories of how she had carried it around and challenged everyone to a game. He said she was very competitive and that she wanted to best everyone. Bilbo said that everyone spent months hiding from her because she was a terrible loser.” Frodo laughed. “I still have that chess set and sometimes I get it out and imagine what she must have been like as a tween. Sometimes, what I imagine reminds me a bit of you.” He messed up Merry’s hair and laughed. “You never were a very good loser either.”

Merry grinned. “So maybe I get that from the Took side and from your mum?”

“I believe that you do,” Frodo agreed.

“What do you suppose is taking Pippin so long?” Merry frowned. “He only went to the kitchen for food. They spoil him in there because they think the poor little imp needs to eat more and so they always load him up and send him on his way. He really should be back by now.”

“I don’t know,” Frodo said. “How long has he been gone?”

“Oh, he’s been gone for quite a while now,” Merry frowned. “He left about ten minutes before you arrived. It isn’t like him not to return.”

“Do you think we should go look for him?” Frodo asked, becoming concerned himself.

“I think we should,” Merry said getting up from the sofa. “I was in a bad mood before and though I don’t think I hurt his feelings, I suppose that I might have done so.”

Frodo got to his feet and the two of them started for the kitchen.

**********************************

“Well, hello Master Merry, Mister Frodo,” Flora greeted them. She was the chief cook in charge of the Hall’s kitchens. “Have you come looking for a late night snack?”

“Actually, we were looking for Pippin,” Merry said. “He was supposed to be getting a snack for me but he never returned.”

“Oh, he was here earlier,” Flora said. “His sister came in and took him back to the party.”

“Which sister?” Merry asked.

“Miss Pearl,” Flora said. “I heard her tell him that he shouldn’t be botherin’ you just now. She said that you were older and that you might have plans with the older lads. He gave her an argument but she took him by an ear and hauled him out ‘o here and off to the party.” She chuckled. “That one is a right handful. He was fussin’ all the way down the hall.”

Merry and Frodo exchanged knowing looks. “Thank you, Flora,” Merry said. “Oh, could you do me a very large favor?”

“I suppose since it’s Yule and all I might have a favor or two left,” she grinned. She had always liked the Master’s son. He was a good lad.

“Could you fix a basket filled with Yule leftovers for three hungry hobbits?” Merry asked. “With roast chicken and lots of the little Yule sweet cakes and maybe some pudding?”

Frodo grinned his approval and Flora said, “I can, Mister Merry. Will you be coming by to pick it up?”

“If it isn’t too much trouble, could you have someone put it in the far parlour for me?” Merry asked looking hopeful. “Frodo and I have to go and collect Pippin.”

Flora smiled and shook her head. “I can do that for you. I knew that lass was wrong.”

“Did you?” Frodo asked smiling.

“I knew she meant well, but I knew that Mister Merry would want to spend Yule with the lad. He always does,” Flora said.

Merry leaned over and gave the old hobbit a kiss on the cheek. “Merry Yule, Flora and thank you.”

She blushed and smiled at him as he and his cousin left the kitchen. She’d make this an extra special basket. Maybe she might be able to find some of the holiday tarts put back somewhere and a bit of the honey cake.

************************************

Merry and Frodo were in the doorway to the Great Hall scanning the room.

“There,” Frodo said, pointing. “Over there near the tree.”

Merry followed his gaze and sighed. Pippin was standing next to the large Yule tree fooling with the ornaments. He was standing with his shoulders slumped over and his head down, just looking at one of the small little carved animals that decorated the very large tree. “Let’s get him,” Merry said, and started off across the room with Frodo close behind.

“And just where is my snack that is supposed to cheer me up?” Merry asked, hands on his hips.

Pippin turned, wide-eyed, the little carved rabbit in his hands. He’d turned so quickly that he’d pulled it from the tree. “Merry!”

“Don’t you Merry me, Peregrin Took,” Merry said. “Frodo and I have been sitting in the parlor waiting for you and for that lovely snack that you promised. Whatever are you doing down here?”

“Well, “ Pippin began quietly, running his fingers over the little rabbit. “Pearl said that I shouldn’t bother you. She said that you are older now and that you probably have plans for Yule with some of the older lads. She made me come here with her.”

“I had plans with you,” Merry said.

Pippin smiled up at him, eyes alight with joy. “I thought she might be right because you were so sad and you didn’t really want to talk much. I thought that you might be trying to think of a nice way to get rid of me so that you could go off with your mates.”

Merry sighed. “I thought that you’d forgotten me because I was such dull Yule company and had gone off to find better. Flora did say that you were carted off by the ear by your sister, but I still thought that you might be just as glad to be rid of my depressing company.”

“Oh, no Merry,” Pippin objected. “I wanted to try and cheer you up. You looked so sad. Even if I hadn’t been able to cheer you up, well, I would still rather spend Yule with you even if you were in a bad mood. I always like Yule with you best.”

“What about Yule with dear old, Frodo?” Frodo asked, joining them.

“I love that too,” Pippin said, smiling.

“Good, then you better come with us,” Frodo said.

“Yes, and quickly,” Merry said. “I have a surprise for you.”

“You do?” Pippin grinned.

Just then Pearl came over and looked at the three of them. “Happy Yule, Pearl,” Frodo smiled at her.

“Happy Yule, Frodo,” Pearl said, smiling back.

“Pearl, can Frodo and I have Pippin for the rest of the evening?” Merry asked. “I have been feeling a bit less than cheerful and well, Pippin always cheers me up. Frodo and I have a surprise for him.”

“Well, of course, Merry,” Pearl said. “I suspected that you had plans with your friends tonight.”

Merry grinned at her and put one arm around each of his cousins. “I do, Pearl. I have plans with my two best friends in all of Middle Earth because it wouldn’t be Yule without them.”

The End

G.W.

Concerning Ladders by Grey Wonderer
This is a little Yule story featuring Merry and Pippin after the Quest...

This one is also posted under "Trust a Brandybuck and a Took" but I had this urge to get all of my Yule fictions together in one place and so I am also posting it here. Once again, you've probably read it but at least I'm organized now.

"How did you get up there?" Merry asked, cupping his hands around his mouth and calling out loudly against the wind.

Merry looked up at the roof of the Crickhollow house and scratched his head. Pippin was sitting on the edge of the roof with his feet dangling over the side. "What ladder?" Merry asked, now scanning the ground in front of him. All he could see was a light dusting of snow disturbed only by a few footprints. No ladder.

"From whom?" Merry called up, looking at his cousin in confusion. If Pippin had borrowed a ladder then where was the ladder now? Pippin was on the roof and so one might expect the ladder to be leaning against the house, but there didn’t seem to be a ladder. "And if you did borrow one, then where is it?"

"I borrowed it from old Mister Grubb down the way, Merry," Pippin called out. "I don’t know where it is now."

"I hardly think that is the most important part of this, Meriadoc," Pippin sputtered. Merry watched as Pippin wrapped his arms about himself in an effort to get warm. "I can’t get down now!"

Merry snorted. "I figured that out all on my own. Serves you right for losing the ladder."

"I didn’t lose it! I was up here and it was just gone," Pippin shouted. "I left it leaning against the house and when I came back to climb down, it was gone! That is hardly my fault!" Pippin was either red in the face from the cold or from anger. Merry couldn’t decide which at the moment.

"Just get me down. It’s cold up here," Pippin said, shifting a bit on the edge of the roof and causing a bit of snow to drift down onto Merry’s head.

"Get back from the edge or you’ll fall down on your own, you ridiculous Took," Merry warned, brushing the snow from his hair. "Only you could lose a ladder!"

"Why don’t we have a ladder, Merry? If we had one of our own, then I wouldn’t have to borrow one," Pippin said, scooting back from the roof’s edge.

"I didn’t think we needed one," Merry said. "I didn’t think we would be climbing about on the roof. I definitely didn’t think we would be climbing about on the roof in the snow!" He glared up at Pippin as he said this last, hands on his hips in a gesture that his mother often used when she was angry with someone. "I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without coming home to find a disaster in progress."

"It wasn’t suppose to be a disaster, Merry," Pippin yelled. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

"It is a surprise," Merry said. "I am very surprised. I should just leave you there. Maybe the next time I go up to the Hall for the afternoon you won’t get into any more trouble."

"Merry, it’s cold," Pippin objected. "And this isn’t my fault! I had a ladder!"

"Well, I don’t!" Merry yelled. "How am I supposed to get you down without a ladder?" Merry looked around as if expecting a ladder to appear but none did. "Well, what do you suggest that I do, Peregrin Took?"

"Well, I don’t suspect that I should ask old Mister Grubb for one, should I?" Merry said, sarcastically. "You know how I hate ladders, Pippin!"

"You don’t have to climb it, just get it and lean it against the house," Pippin shouted. "I’ll climb it!"

"Fine, but back up from the edge and try to sit still while I go see if I can find a ladder," Merry said, firmly. "Don’t do anything else ridiculous while I’m gone!" Merry turned and stalked off in search of a ladder while Pippin watched his older cousin from the roof, shivering. He couldn’t imagine where the ladder had gone. Ladders didn’t leave on their own.

About fifteen minutes later as Merry was walking by the Grubb home, he noticed old Mister Grubb out front sweeping off his stoop. As Merry walked past Mister Grubb called out, "Fine thing to have a neighbor who runs off with your belongings!"

Merry stopped and turned. "I’m sorry? What do you mean, Mister Grubb, sir?" Merry asked.

"I found my ladder up again’ your house, Meriadoc Brandybuck not more than two hours ago," Mister Grubb said. "So I guess you might be able to take my meaning on this." He walked out to meet Merry, hands fisted at his sides.

Merry’s mouth fell open but he quickly recovered. "I am so sorry about that, Mister Grubb. I assure you that I didn’t know anything about it. My cousin Pippin must have helped himself to your ladder. I do apologize." Merry decided that Pippin had got exactly what he deserved in all of this. The sneaky little Took had stolen Mister Grubb’s ladder. It looked as it Mister Grubb had taken it back while Pippin was otherwise occupied. Merry would have smiled, but there was Mister Grubb to think of at present. A smile might not be the best thing at the moment.

"So, you had nothing’ to do with this?" Mister Grubb said, eyeing Merry intently as if looking for a lie in him.

"No, sir, I most certainly did not," Merry said. "I only came home from the Hall a bit ago and found my cousin up on our roof."

Mister Grubb stood a moment and processed this information and then chuckled. "So the little thief is trapped on the roof now, is he? Well, I didn’t know that when I took my ladder but it is an added bonus," Mister Grubb grinned. "That’ll teach him to take what don’t belong to him."

Merry grinned a bit and then said, "It will indeed, but the trouble is, I do need to get him down before he freezes to death. I am afraid that I find myself in need of a ladder." Merry waited to see what the old gentlehobbit’s response might be.

"You mean to say that your cousin could use a ladder, don’t you?" Mister Grubb said, eyes twinkling from his very round face. There was a touch of something about the old hobbit’s expression that Merry didn’t care for.

"Well, yes, I guess that’s so," Merry said. "I know that you don’t have any reason to do so, Mister Grubb, but could you be so kind as to see your way clear to loan me that ladder of yours?"

"I know that, sir," Merry said. "I promise to return it to you as soon as I’ve got Pippin off of the roof, or better still, I will have Pippin return it with an apology."

Mister Grubb thought this over for a minute and then answered, "Ladder is in the barn where it belongs, Meriadoc, but I suspect that you can find it well enough. I expect you to keep your word on this. I’ll be wantin’ an apology from that cousin yours. The very idea of that sort of behavior here in Buckland and it almost Yule too! Never did trust those Tooks and I see now that I was right in my thinking on that. I hate to think what Buckland will come to if more ‘o them move over here across the water. I think we should post a guard at the bridge and turn any with a drop ‘o Took blood in ‘em away on sight!"

"I’m afraid that I can’t agree with you there, sir, as my own mother is a Took," Merry said, straightening. "I might find myself ousted from my own home if you get your way." It seemed that every time he turned around Merry was having to defend his Took relations in some way. Folks in Buckland could be a bit narrow-minded when it came to the subject of Tooks.

Mister Grubb looked a bit embarrassed for having forgotten that Merry’s mother was a Took, but he quickly recovered himself and said, "Well, even in a bunch such as the Tooks I suspect that there might be a good one now and again, and you are at least half Brandybuck."

Merry found himself wanting to continue his defense of his mother at least, but he stopped himself. He had no idea how many of his other close neighbors had ladders and he knew that Pippin had been stuck out on the roof for at least three hours now. It was best, though not at all satisfying, to hold his tongue for the present. He didn’t want a sick cousin on his hands through the holidays. It was difficult, but he managed to bite back the words he’d wanted to say and instead he smiled, "I am indeed half Brandybuck and very proud of it! So, will you trust me to see to the return of your ladder?"

"I will," Mister Grubb said. "I’ve a thing or two to say to that cousin of yours when he returns it. I won’t have my things taken without my leave. I’ve lived here all of my years and I have earned the right to expect my property to be respected. I wouldn’t like to, but I could go to the Master on this."

Merry was very sure that Mister Grubb would go to the Master and he believed that the old coot would enjoy it no matter what he said.

A bit breathless from dragging the ladder back to his house and with a growing anger at Pippin for his actions, Merry finally arrived back home. Between the nasty talk with Mister Grubb and the fact that Pippin had led him to believe that he had borrowed the ladder, Merry was now in a very nasty mood himself.

An unsuspecting Pippin peered down from the roof shivering and smiled. "Thank goodness you’re back," Pippin shouted. "I was beginning to think that you’d left me."

"I thought long and hard about doing just that at several points while getting this ladder," Merry said, stiffly. "Now, I am going to put this against the house and I want you to get down here as quickly as you can, do you hear me?"

"Yes, I’ll gladly be quick," Pippin said, rubbing his gloved hands together. His gloves had the fingers cut out of them to make working easier and they only covered the palms of his hands and up to the first knuckle of each finger. Pippin hated having his fingers completely covered and so naturally his hands were very cold just now. "I’m very tired of being stuck up here. It’s freezing and it’s starting to snow again."

Merry hadn’t noticed the snow. He’d been too angry with Pippin and with Mister Grubb to take notice of much else. He leaned the ladder against the roof and held on to the bottom of it for extra safety. It was snowing again. Seems that they would be having a white Yule season this year if this kept up. "Take off those gloves so your hands don’t slip!" Merry shouted up to Pippin.

Pippin removed the gloves obediently, stuffed them into his pocket and began to climb down. He was very cold and very damp. He had been sitting on the snowy roof from most of the afternoon. He could only hope that his surprise for Merry was worth the effort. The Yule season was supposed to be filled with surprises and it was so difficult to surprise Merry. He stepped off of the last rung of the ladder and grinned at Merry. "This is Mister Grubb’s ladder. Where did you find it?"

Merry had his arms folded over his chest now and he looked quite angry about something so Pippin suspected that there had been trouble over the ladder. "Did someone pinch it?"

Merry was fairly seething now. "Someone?" Merry asked. "You want to know if someone pinched this ladder? "

Pippin nodded, putting his hands underneath his armpits to warm them. He dared not say more as he could see that Merry was extremely angry with someone. He felt sorry for the poor hobbit that had crossed his older cousin.

"I am looking at the hobbit who took this ladder!" Merry shouted and rapped Pippin hard on top of the head. "Are you out of your mind? Do you know I had to endure at least twenty minutes of Mister Grubb’s lecturing because of you? I truly did give thought to not coming back here. I am not sure if I trust myself not to hang you, Peregrin Took! How could you take Mister Grubb’s ladder without getting permission?" He glared at Pippin daring him to make an excuse this time.

Pippin’s eyes were wide and he sounded hurt by the accusation. "Is that what you think that I did? Do you think that I took that ladder without permission?"

"I know you did!" Merry said. "Don’t try to squirm your way out of this one, Pippin. I talked to Mister Grubb myself for a good deal longer than I wanted to and he told me exactly what happened."

"He said he came by here and found this ladder leaning against this house and so he took it home with him," Merry said. "He had no idea that you had it! He thinks you’re a thief and I tend to agree with him at this point!"

"So I can see," Pippin said, even softer. He looked down at his feet for a moment but offered no other explanation.

"Well, at least you’ve the good sense not to offer me any wild excuses this time," Merry said. "Now, I told Mister Grubb that if he would allow me to use his ladder to rescue you, that you would return it to him. Now you take this ladder back to Mister Grubb and you apologize before he has you up on charges and my father has to render judgment!"

"Fine," Pippin said, putting his wet gloves back on. "I’ll take the ladder back and then I’m going up to the Hall and stay the night. I would hate for you to have to spend the evening with me after my deplorable behavior." Pippin took hold of the ladder and maneuvered it past Merry.

"Fine. But you’ve no right to play the injured party this time, Pippin," Merry called after him. "You can’t take things without asking and expect others to simply let you by with it."

Pippin didn’t answer, but continued on with the ladder. As he got into the road with it, still shivering, he looked back to see Merry going inside. He sighed and looked up at the roof of the little house. Such a wasted effort, but still, it did look festive. He shifted the ladder and began to drag it through the snow toward the Grubb’s house. This was not going to be pleasant.

Merry was sat by the fireplace having tea and fuming about the afternoon’s events. How could Pippin possibly try to make him out to be the guilty party? He had done nothing except take a dressing down from Mister Grubb that should have been Pippin’s. He had done nothing except retrieve the ladder so that Pippin could get off of the roof. He had done nothing except, well, except take Mister Grubb’s word for the course of events without asking Pippin what had happened. That last part made him feel a bit sick. He had just accepted Mister Grubb’s word, but then again, why would the old hobbit lie?

It was very strange that Pippin hadn’t offered his own version of things. Pippin was always willing to do that. Why, a guilty Pippin had a million reasons for his own actions, but Pippin hadn’t offered up a single word on the subject of the ladder. Not one word. Merry didn’t like the feeling that he was starting to get. Could he have been wrong about this?

Merry shifted in his chair and puffed on his pipe. Why did he feel guilty? Even if he had asked Pippin for his side of things first, the out-come would have been the same. The ladder was Mister Grubb’s property. Pippin should not have taken it without asking and that seemed to be what had happened, didn’t it?

The knock on the door startled him. He wasn’t expecting anyone out in this weather. Pippin had vowed not to return tonight and he had seen his parents earlier in the day. He sighed, in no mood for company, and went to open the door. Maybe Pip had changed his mind and was coming to offer an explanation or at least, an apology.

As he opened the door, the sight that greeted him surprised him. It was Mister Grubb and he had his wife with him. Confused, but feeling the cold air blow into the house, Merry invited them in and shut the door behind them. "You both must be frozen solid. Please come over and warm yourselves by the fire," Merry said. "I’ll put the kettle on and make some more tea." He hoped that this didn’t mean that Pippin had not returned the ladder. If he had to take another of Mister Grubb’s lectures this evening, then he was likely to say more than was wise.

The Grubb’s moved over by the fire and Merry left them to make the tea. From in the kitchen he could hear them muttering to one another. Their voices were low but it was obvious that they were arguing about something. Merry was not looking forward to this visit with the Grubbs. He sighed, tried to remember that everything that he did reflected upon his father who was the Master of Buckland, and took the tea tray in to his most unwelcome guests. It hardly seemed fair that Pippin was to miss this encounter too.

"Please have a seat," Merry said, as he sat the tray on the table and began pouring the tea. "I do hope that the weather isn’t as dreadful as it felt when I opened the door."

"It is," Mister Grubb said with a rather nasty look at his wife who returned his glare full force with one of her own. Merry handed her a cup of tea and waited for the lecture to begin.

"Well, go on," Mrs. Grubb said, looking at her husband. "You best get this over with. We have to get home before the weather gets any worse." She glared at him as he sat like a silent lump on one of Merry’s chairs with his teacup in hand. "Well, I suppose that you expect me to do all of the explaining!"

"This entire thing is your fault to my way of thinking’!" Mister Grubb said, loudly. He then looked at Merry. "Some folks think they’ve a right to speak for you when you aren’t about."

Merry wasn’t sure what his response should be and so he simply extended the sugar bowl in Mister Grubb’s direction and cursed his own luck. "Sugar?"

"He don’t need any ‘o that," Mrs. Grubb said. "Bad for him at this age. Twill keep him up all night if he has it and me along with him."

Mister Grubb glared at her. "See! Always answering for me! Never marry. If you’re smart you’ll stay a bachelor all your life. That is the only way that you’ll be able to speak your own mind without others trying to do it for you."

She stiffened. "You just tell him what we come all this way for in this weather, old goat!"

"I still say it was your doin’, you old shrew," Mister Grubb said, then grabbed the sugar bowl from Merry’s hand and heaped a liberal amount of it into his tea. He glared at her and drank deeply. "If you’d stick to your own business then this sort ’o thing wouldn’t happen!"

"Why don’t you just explain yourself to Meriadoc and let him be the judge of it all," Mrs. Grubb said. "And I’ll not sit up with you while you can’t sleep tonight either!" She pointed angrily at his teacup.

"No one ever asks you to, you old busybody," Mister Grubb said. "You just take it on yourself! That’s your trouble!"

Merry felt as if he were caught between two charging bulls. They continued to hurl insults at one another for several more minutes before Mister Grubb finally came to the point. By then, Merry was desperately wishing that he could run from his own home and go to Brandy Hall and hide underneath his old bed. There were drawbacks to having your own house.

Mister Grubb cleared his throat and began, "It seems that there may have been a bit of a misunderstanding this afternoon." His wife made a noise that sounded a bit like a snort but he ignored her and continued. "When you came by about the ladder I may have misspoke when I called that Took cousin of yours a thief."

Mister Grubb put more sugar in a second cup of tea, offered it as a toast to her, and said, "If you want me to tell this then shut your trap for once in your miserable life!"

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, " Mister Grubb said. "When you came by, I thought that your cousin had stolen that ladder. What I didn’t know and I am sure you’ll agree, couldn’t have known, is that she loaned it to him without my leave!"

Merry felt the air go out of his lungs for a second as he processed this new information. "You mean to say that Pippin didn’t take your ladder?"

"Well, of course he did!" Mister Grubb said. "As far as I’m concerned he did just that because he should have known that, as it was my ladder, it was my permission he would be needin’, not this old sow’s here!" He pointed to his wife. "That ladder is mine and I say who uses it, not her, so yes, he did take it without my leave. The trouble here is that he had her say on it and being foolish enough to think that she could speak for me, which she can’t, he took my ladder!" Mister Grubb was the color of a ripe plum and if Merry hadn’t been so upset by what he was hearing, he might have been worried that the old fella was going to drop over dead in the parlor.

"The lad meant no harm," Mrs. Grubb said. "He helped me take in some things from the market which a certain old goat should have been there to do and so when he asked, all charming and polite like, I gave him my leave to borrow the ladder."

"A ladder that isn’t hers to lend," Mister Grubb said, standing. "Now, we’ve explained. I am going home and if you want a way there other than to walk on your own two feet, you’d best be putting down that teacup and coming along, you old biddy."

Merry was nearly speechless. Nearly. "So, you accused my cousin of being a thief when, in fact, he had permission to take the ladder? You threatened to have him brought before the Master of Buckland when all of the time the truth was that you didn’t realize that your wife had loaned the ladder to Pippin? Then you come by and take the ladder and leave him stranded on the roof in the cold!"

"I am very sure that the Master of Buckland would see it otherwise," Merry said, folding his arms across his chest. "In fact, I suspect that he might have a thing or two to say about a hobbit who would leave another stranded out in the cold on a roof on a day like this!"

"I didn’t know he was up there," Mister Grubb said, less sure of himself. "I only wanted to get my property is all."

"You should have checked," Merry said, fiercely. His desire to defend Pippin was becoming very strong especially in light of the guilt that he felt over his own part in all of this. "You don’t just take ladders away from a place without checking!"

"He didn’t mean no harm," Mrs. Grubb said, softly, putting her arm around her husband and looking at Merry. "It was my fault for not telling him that I’d loaned the ladder to your cousin."

"You aren’t going to the Master on this are you? You wouldn’t would you?" Mister Grubb asked, patting his wife’s hand. "She’d be scandalized by all of this. Think of the gossip!" He looked at Merry imploringly and then over at his wife. Was this the same hobbit who’d threatened to make her walk home in the snow just minutes before?

Merry could hardly believe this sudden change in attitude. If asked to guess before this, he’d have told anyone that these two hated one another. Now, he wasn’t altogether sure. "I won’t go to the Master, and partly because I know that my father would not take kindly to your words regarding Tooks, Mister Grubb. I found them offensive myself. No, I think this is best left as it is. You and your wife go on home before the storm gets worse. I think we’ve settled this."

Mister Grubb bolted out of the door leaving Mrs. Grubb to say their good-byes. "What about the lad? Will he feel the need to speak to the Master about this? He didn’t seem the sort when he brought back the ladder, but still, you never know." She was wringing her hands.

"He isn’t the sort and I do know that," Merry said. "I am the one that your husband does not want to run afoul of in the future. If he wants to stay out of trouble, then he will not speak unkindly of my cousin or any other Took in my presence. He would be wise not to bother Peregrin Took." Merry gave her a rather stern look and then continued. "You had better leave before he leaves without you."

"Oh, he’d never do such as that," she said with a slight smile. "He only threatens. He isn’t that way at all." She walked to the door and then said. "I guess the ladder was for the Yule decorations. Tell the lad that they are lovely." Having said that, she left.

Merry waited until he heard their waggon go and then put on his coat and went out to look up at the roof. There, glinting in the moonlight against the soft background of white snow, were dozens of twinkling brightly colored balls. The balls were hung on tinsel and strung all across the top of the house. They glimmered and reflected in the cold night. They were beautiful. Merry suspected that they would be even more lovely on a clear night with star light bouncing off of them. How could he have missed seeing them before?

Merry came into the kitchen of Brandy Hall and hurried over to warm himself by the fire. Even on his pony, it had been a cold journey through the snow in the night air. He extended his rather numb fingers out toward the fire, grateful for the warmth. He could feel bits of snow melt and drip off of his hair.

From beside of the fire in his favorite rocker, Saradoc said, quietly. "Still snowing out?"

Merry turned and caught sight of his father for the first time since entering the kitchen. "Yes, it is." He slipped off his coat and lay it on another chair and looked at his father. "Is Pippin here?"

"No, but your mum and I know enough about you two to know that there’s been trouble," Saradoc said. "I can tell by looking at you now, even if I hadn’t see it in Pippin’s eyes earlier."

His mother interrupted them at that moment and walked over, hands on her hips and lips in a tight line. "It’s past time that you got yourself here, Meriadoc. Now, you go on to your room and straighten this mess out so that I can get some rest. I won’t sleep until I know that you’ve settled this with your cousin."

"My room?" Merry asked, looking guiltily at his mother. He was far past the age of being sent to his room for his actions.

"I put Pippin in your old room, of course," she said, Tookish accent thick. "Where else would I be puttin’ him after he finally warmed up? Poor thing was near froze to death"

"Only that he’d been working on the roof of your house most of the day in the cold," Esmeralda said. She softened a bit and then continued. "Whatever you two are fussing over, it has him very upset. He wouldn’t give me any explanation."

"I know you two," Esmeralda said, smiling. "If he’s at fault then he comes in here apologizing and tells the entire thing whether I want to hear it or not. If you are to blame, then I can’t drag the information out of him. Besides, you have that guilty look in your eyes, my darlin’ lad. I’ve seen it before. You’ve been beating yourself up over this, haven’t you? It would be better for both you and Pippin if you woke him up and spoke your piece."

Merry smiled at her. "I hope that when I have children, I will know what they’ve been up to the way that you do."

"This is a mother’s trick," Esmeralda said, gently. "If you marry well enough, then your own dear lass will let you know what the children have been up to. Now, go and see Pippin."

Merry knocked but he didn’t wait for an invitation. He entered his old bedroom and sat the candle he’d been carrying on the table next to the bed. Pippin turned over to face him and sat up. He squinted his eyes as he became used to the light. "Why are you here?" Pippin asked, frowning. "Have you come by to accuse me of stealing something else? Did someone you hardly know drop by and tell you that I’d taken their pony or is something else missing that you can blame me for?"

Merry sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at Pippin. "You have every right to be angry with me. I deserve it."

"Will it help you at all to know that I have just spent a very unpleasant evening with the Grubbs?" Merry asked. "Will it help you to know that they had a full-out argument in our parlour with me in the middle? Will it help in any way for you to know that my mum is a bit put out with me for whatever it is that I’ve done to you?"

"Not much, but some," Pippin said, after a minute. He looked down at the blankets and began to trace his finger over the design in the quilt. "You think I’m a thief, don’t you?" he said sounding hurt.

"I did think that you’d taken the ladder, Pip," Merry said. "That was my mistake. You used to be quite good at that sort of thing. I know because I taught you most of it." Merry waited a minute and then continued. "I’m very sorry that I didn’t ask you what had happened first. I was wrong. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Pip, honest."

"You did, though," Pippin said, softly. "I count on you to believe me, Merry, even when no one else will."

Merry could see the hurt in Pippin’s eyes and he felt his stomach twist into a knot. "I know that and I know that you have every right to be very angry with me, Pip, but please believe me when I say that I’m sorry. I would take it all back if I could," Merry said, taking one of Pippin’s hands in his. "I know better. I know that I can trust you. I will do anything to make this up to you, Pip. Please forgive me."

Pippin looked at him for a moment and then slowly broke into a small smile. "Buy me an extra present for Yule?" His eyes twinkled with mischief. He had already received what he wanted from Merry. The apology was really enough, but he couldn’t let Merry know that.

Merry smiled back at him. "Anything you like," Merry said and meant it. He couldn’t stand it when he hurt Pippin. "Especially after the lovely thing that you did today."

"The decorations are beautiful, Pippin," Merry said. "The little house looks almost magical with those decorations on it. The colors remind me of Gandalf’s fireworks."

Pippin grinned broadly. "I’m glad you liked them, Merry. I wanted to surprise you and decorate the house for Yule. I know how much the little house means to you. I wanted it to look special."

Later as Merry stretched out beside of Pippin to go to sleep, he asked, "So Pip, what sort of extra present do you want for Yule?"

Pippin snickered. "I’d like a ladder of my own, Merry. Oh, and be sure to wrap it. I want to be surprised."

***Well, that claims to be the end but I got a lovely surprise this evening (12/18/2006) when an LJ friend and a very talented Hobbit author wrote a little something extra for this story. I have her permission to link it here. I think you'll enjoy it. Here is a link to a drabble by Lindelea that she posted to Live Journal. My thanks to her for the drabble and for letting me post this link.*****Enjoy! I certainly did. Thank you, Lindelea!

“Sheep! I’m spending the Yule holidays with a flock of sheep! I could be dancing and drinking and eating with family and friends, but instead I am standing about on a hillside watching sheep graze. I must have been barking mad to volunteer for this!” He paced as he ranted to himself, his hands shoved into his new coat’s deep pockets for warmth and his scarf covering the lower half of his face so that his voice sounded muffled. “That’s just how you are though, isn’t it, Pippin? You have to open your big mouth and let all of your words come pouring out even if you haven’t thought them completely through yet.” He made a low growling sound and one of the sheep dogs lifted its ears for a moment in response. Realizing that there was no wild beast ready to attack the peaceful flock, the dog relaxed and cocked a head toward the pacing hobbit. “I have to be the biggest ninny hammer in the Shire! There I was, unnoticed and forgotten, just sitting about in that big, comfortable armchair in my father’s study when all of the sudden I open up my mouth and say…”

“I can watch them,” Pippin offered getting to his feet for the first time during the entire meeting. “I don’t have any wee ones to see to over the holidays and I’ve watched the sheep plenty of times before.”

The room grew silent then. It was as if someone had pulled all of the sounds out through the keyhole. Everyone was looking at the young lad, the Thain’s heir, the thin, sharp-nosed twenty-five-year-old who had spent the day slouching in a corner chair looking bored beyond endurance while his father conducted business in the study of the Great Smials. Many issues had come before the Thain on this last business day before Yule. There was much to tend to before the New Year arrived and it seemed as if today every hobbit in the Tookland wanted something from the Thain. The lad was on his feet now and offering to do an uncommon kindness. Several of the older hobbits in the room squinted so intently at the young Took that the lad squirmed slightly beneath their gaze but he did not sit back down. He peered at them all out of wide, green eyes and said, “I would be happy to watch the sheep. Someone has to do it and most of you have little ones.” His voice was only slightly shaky as he addressed this group of seasoned Tooks and a few in the back smiled a bit at the lad’s nerve. Not many this age would have had the spine to speak up in such daunting company. All eyes slowly turned to the Thain now to see how he might react.

Paladin Took, who was standing behind his large desk with his hands leaning on its well-worn surface, glazed over at his youngest child and frowned. The Thain had been addressing a request made by the young shepherds that looked after the flocks belonging to the Great Smials. The request had been an earnest one but the Thain had been forced to turn them down. Now, after an afternoon of complete silence, bored looks, a few yawns, and a general restlessness, the Thain’s lad seem to have come awake. Paladin Took said quietly, “Do you realize what you are offering, Peregrin?”

The lad turned toward his father, straightened his shoulders and nodded his head until the words tumbled out of him like marbles from a cloth bag. “I understand. I’d be spending Yule up on the shepherd’s hill watching the sheep so that the shepherds could spend the Yule holidays here at the Great Smials with their children and their wives. I don’t have any children.” Here the lad cleared his throat and grinned cheekily. “And no wife for certain. I’m old enough so that I don’t mind missing Yule really. It is mostly a holiday for wee ones and I’m not a child, you know.” He said this last part with a bit more fervor in his voice and he looked at his father as if daring him to correct the statement.

The Thain still seemed uncertain and so the lad drew in a deep breath and went on. “I could take a rucksack full of provisions and a book or two and settle in for two days. I’ve been meaning to read some of those books that Frodo is always recommending to me. It’s cold enough out so I won’t doze off on my watch and someone could come and relieve me for long enough so that I could sleep for a few hours. Then that someone, whoever he is, could come back for the rest of Yule. I’d only need a wee bit of sleep, maybe three hours or so?” This last was spoken as if hopeful that there would be someone to come while he rested. Yule was two full days long after all and even an energetic lad in his tweens needed a few hours’ sleep.

“You’re offering to miss Yule with your own family, Peregrin,” the Thain said slowly.

“I know,” the lad said. “I always spend Yule with my family. I’ve done so all of my life and I know how important it is for wee ones to have both parents gather around for the gifting. I think that the families of the shepherds should have one Yule at least, don’t you? You’ve wanted me to take some responsibility and so I am taking some now if you’ll allow it.” Pippin rocked on his heels and said with an earnest expression on his young face, “I can do this, Father.”

There was a murmur of assent in the room and the Thain rose up to his full height and put his hands behind his back as he studied the lad. “You couldn’t change your mind once you’d taken over the flock. You’d have to remain with the sheep even if this idea of yours didn’t seem so grand to you after a few hours in the cold on your own,” Paladin Took pointed out.

“I’ve watched the sheep before,” the younger Took insisted. “I did it two days a week all spring this year and I never lost a one of them.”

More murmurs were heard from the assembly. The Thain sighed as if all of this was quite tiring for him and then said, “You are certain about this? You are willing to give up Yule with your sisters and with your cousins in order to allow these two shepherds to spend Yule with their families?” He motioned in the direction of the two hobbits that had come to request this very things from the Thain.

“Yes, sir,” the lad said firmly, head held up high and eyes filled with determination.

Startled by this, the lad reached over his own hand and the two shook in the presences of a room full of witnesses to seal the bargain. “You will be spending Yule in the Green Hills with the flock this year, Peregrin,” Paladin Took said and that was when Pippin’s thoughts began to catch up to his run-away mouth but by then it was too late.

It had been two days until the beginning of Yule and his father had planned the rest of the details out for him when it had become apparent that Pippin had only gotten as far in his own planning as making the generous offer.

The shepherds, both of whom had little ones and neither of whom had ever spent their Yule at the Great Smials, had been beyond grateful to Pippin. They had both hurried over to him and clapped him on the back so hard they’d nearly knocked him to the floor with their enthusiasm. They had come before the Thain to ask if they might hire on a couple of local lads in need of cash so that they might spend the holidays with their families. They’d offered to pay for this out of their own earnings but the Thain had refused their request on the grounds that any lads they might hire might not be experienced enough for the job of looking after the sheep. The Tooks couldn’t afford to risk loosing any of the flock to carelessness. Last year during the hardest part of the winter wolves had killed a large part of the flock and it was only just back to reasonable numbers. If they were to have enough wool for the markets this year during shearing season, then the little flock had to be watched carefully.

The Thain had said all of this with regret in his voice but he had been firm about it. That had been when Pippin had come to his feet with the speed of one of the old Wizard, Gandalf’s fireworks and made his offer. The lad had grown up around the flocks and had indeed tended them so experience was not at issue here. In the face of the generous offer and the room full of Tooks, the Thain really didn’t have much choice in the matter. Pippin was a long way from becoming an adult but he wasn’t a child either. If the Thain refused to allow his son to do this task it would appear as if he were coddling the child. Because Pippin was the youngest in his family there was already the occasional complaint that the Thain and his family were spoiling or over-protecting the lad.

Pippin listened in silence as his father set forth a schedule for the two shepherds. Each of them would return to the flock once during the two days of Yule for six hours each so that Pippin could rest. The remaining time the shepherds would be allowed to enjoy the holiday any way they saw fit. Pippin could feel something tightening inside of his stomach as his father mapped out things with the two shepherds. This was Yule he’d just given up and there was no reasonable way to back out of this now. His efforts to impress his father with his maturity and a sudden surge of generosity toward the two young shepherds had plunged Pippin head-long into something that now seemed like his worst idea ever. At what point in his life, Pippin wondered, was he going to learn to count to ten before opening his mouth?

His mother had actually cried! This had horrified Pippin. She had wrapped her arms around him and cried as if he were being led off to the boarders of the Shire and sent to live among Trolls for the rest of his life. She had glared at his father in such a way that her eyes seem to be shooting arrows at him as she had said, “He’s only a lad! He’s barely in his tweens after all. He isn’t old enough to be missing Yule. He should be here with us! How could you allow this?”

Some part of Pippin’s mind hoped that his father would see the wisdom of his mother’s words and refuse to allow him to go through with his wildly spontaneous offer but his mouth, once again refused to remain shut when he heard her calling him ‘only a lad!’ “I’m old enough for this and it was my idea, after all,” he protested. She’d turned her glare on him but she dissolved into tears and merely hugged him tightly, squeezing the air out of his lungs with her strength until his father had gently led her away so that he might discuss things with her quietly.

On the morning of First Yule, as Pippin was mounting his pony with the sun still not up, his father put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from climbing into the saddle. Pippin turned and looked up at him and waited. His father sighed deeply as he so often did before saying anything to his youngest child. “Build a fire just before the sun sets and keep it going through the night for the warmth. Keep an eye on the dogs. They’ll let you know if there’s to be any trouble from wild animals. Keep your bow at the ready and don’t use it unless you have to, Peregrin.” Pippin knew that his father was concerned that Pippin might actually shoot one of the sheep. Pippin was rather worried about that too. He’d never been a very good shot with a bow in spite of his Took heritage. He was excellent with a sling and none could out-match him when it came to being accurate with a stone but his skill with a bow was sadly lacking. He was grateful when his father didn’t bring this up. After all, they both knew it anyway. “When your relief comes, make good use of it and get as much rest as you can. You’ll have to be able to stay awake without company for a long time and if you’ve not rested well you may find that you’re dozing off when you should be alert.”

“You’re doing a great kindness, Peregrin, even if it was rather suddenly offered,” his father said ruefully. “This may give you an idea of what it’s like to be a responsible adult and that may keep you from rushing head-long into it.” He pulled Pippin toward him and hugged him quickly. Then he stepped back and gave Pippin room to mount the pony. “Get on with you, or you’ll be late.”

Unable to speak for fear of betraying his desire to run into the smial and hide underneath his bed, Pippin turned from his father, mounted his pony, and rode from the barn as if something were chasing him.

It was still two hours until his relief would arrive and Pippin was regretting this entire business with all of his heart. He had spent the morning watching after the sheep and singing all of the Yule songs that he could think of and then because he was out of everyone’s hearing, he had sung all of the wicked pub songs that Merry had taught him over the years. The wicked songs were not nearly as entertaining without a proper audience of shocked or amused hobbits but he still put every effort into them. The practice would be good for the next time he and Merry were out with the lads.

He had only been forced to chase down two sheep with the help of the dogs and so it had been a quiet, if lonely, First Yule morning. Pippin had made do with bread and cheese for second breakfast, which he had eaten while remembering his first breakfast of eggs, ham and toasted bread in the warm kitchen. He’d not enjoyed that meal much really because his mum had fussed about so and had been trying not to cry throughout it all. Pippin had felt most of his first breakfast stick in his throat but it had still been better than bread and cheese with the dogs.

When lunch had finally arrived, Pippin had pulled a large package of roasted chicken from his pack and had quickly devoured it in order to avoid drawing the attention of the dogs. Given a chance they seemed to be more than willing to share all of his food if allowed the opportunity. The weather, although chilly, was not too bad for this time of the year. The sun was rather warm and Pippin had his new coat, which was an early Yule gift from his older sister, Pearl. The minute she’d found out that Pippin was going to be spending Yule with the sheep; she’d pulled out the package and insisted that he open it.

“I can open my Yule gifts when I get home,” Pippin had objected. “I’ll only be gone a couple of days, Pearl.”

She had forced the package into his hands and said sternly, “You open that gift this minute, Peregrin Took. I am not about to spend Yule worrying that you might be freezing to death.”

Grinning at her, Pippin had complied and had unwrapped the package to reveal the dark bluish-green coat with the thick, wool lining and deep pockets. “It’s splendid!” he had crowed, holding it up.

From behind him, his father had frowned slightly and said, “It looks very warm but didn’t it come in any other, less startling colours, Pearl?”

“The colour is actually my favorite thing about this coat,” Pippin had said before Pearl could respond. “I’ll be able to find my coat among all the others at parties.”

Pearl had laughed at that and then she’d insisted he try it on. Just now, his favorite thing about his new coat was the wool lining. It had been a long time since lunch and the sun was down now. Dinner was a memory and the only break from the chill was his small campfire and his wool-lined coat.

“I’m missing the Yule feast about now,” Pippin moaned as his stomach rolled and growled unhappily. He had more to eat in his pack but he didn’t dare dip into tomorrow’s meals unless he wanted to spend the next day regretting his actions. Just now, he had more than enough to regret. “There’s likely roast duck, and roast pork, and backed ham, honey-glazed carrots, and mushrooms in butter-sauce, and tomatoes and beats and potatoes and bread and cabbage and hot cider and biscuits of all kinds.” Pippin licked lips getting wool from his scarf on his tongue. He lowered the scarf and spat a few times, looked at his dozing flock of sheep and then continued, “Turnips, jam, beans, pudding, toffee, apples, toffee-apples, pies, cakes, walnuts, peas, candied cherries, pickles, gravy, Aunt Esme’s jam tarts,” Pippin sighed and rubbed his stomach. “What keeps shepherds from dying of hunger?” Pippin blinked and looked out at the sheep and frowned. “Roast lamb, lamb stew.” He shook his head as a tiny lamb ran to its mother and fell beside of her to sleep. “No, no roast lamb. I will not think about roast lamb out here.” One of the dogs whimpered and pushed against Pippin’s leg sniffing at his coat pocket. “Don’t worry. I am not hungry enough to be thinking of roast dog,” Pippin said and handed the dog a bite of cheese from the coat pocket. Pippin always kept treats for the dogs in his pockets along with other items of interest. Pockets were for filling up.

Within the next two hours Pippin was practically asleep on his feet. He had to keep pacing in order to stay awake. He was cold but he moved away from the fire to keep from becoming too warm and comfortable. He knew that he’d fall asleep if he allowed himself to sit by the fire. He passed the time by staring up at the stars and trying to find some of the special stars that Frodo had shown him. He wondered if Frodo was dancing at the Yule celebration or if his older cousin was sharing a pipe and a brandy with Merry and some of the older lads. Pippin wasn’t allowed much brandy but Merry always managed to sneak him a taste or two during Yule celebrations. He supposed that he was going to miss his bit of brandy this year.

“I bet you thought I’d forgot you,” a voice called out and Pippin turned to see the younger of the two shepherds walking up the hill with a sack on his back. “I lost track of the time or I’d have been here an hour ago. I stayed and helped the misses put the little ones to bed.” The shepherd was grinning from ear to ear as he spoke. “I don’t get to do that as often as I’d like but I am sure sorry to be late getting to you after all you’ve done for me.”

Pippin smiled weakly, pulling down his scarf and forgetting his cold nose at the sight of the happy hobbit before him. “I didn’t notice,” Pippin lied. The truth was he’d been counting the minutes until it was time and had counted every minute that the shepherd had been late. Now, that didn’t seem so important. After all, the shepherd was here, wasn’t he? “I’ve just been looking at the stars,” Pippin smiled. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and rubbed them together and yawned.

The shepherd frowned at Pippin’s gloves. “You’ve got no fingers in those gloves, lad. You can have mine if you want. Your hands must be freezing,” the shepherd said.

Pippin held out his hand and shrugged. “I don’t like gloves very much and I can’t abide mittens. I cut the fingers out of all of my gloves. You never know when you’ll need your fingers free for something important. You can’t get a proper grip on things if your gloves have the fingers in them.”

The shepherd scratched his head with one of his own gloved hands. “I like to keep my fingers warm. I’ll take my chances.”

“Not me,” Pippin said. ***He’d never been fond of gloves and as a lad had deliberately lost enough mittens to cover the hands of all of the little hobbit children in the Shire until his Aunt Esmeralda had devised a way to keep the mittens on his hands. She’d tied them about his wrists to make certain that he didn’t lose them. He'd had one rather nasty experience that had almost resulted in disaster because of that idea of his Aunt’s and so as soon as he became old enough for gloves he’d begun cutting the fingers out of them.*** Merry found this a constant source of amusement but Pippin ignored Merry on this issue. Every year at Yule Merry gave Pippin at least one pair of gloves as a joke and Pippin always cut the fingers out of them while Merry watched. Pippin suspected that there was a package back at the Great Smials even now with a new pair of gloves in it from Merry. Pippin yawned.

‘You best go over and crawl into the tent and sleep a bit or you’ll be too tired to stand your watch tomorrow,” the shepherd reminded him. “Anything I should know about the flock before you turn in? Any trouble?”

Pippin smiled tiredly. “No, they’re all there and all fine. I’ve counted them until I know them all on sight.” Pippin yawned again. “You know, counting them actually makes me a bit sleepy. I wonder why that is?”

The shepherd laughed. “I suppose it’s because they all look alike and they don’t really do much of anything interesting, do they?”

Pippin grinned and made his way to the tent. **“Not unless you force them into it,” he mumbled sleepily recalling a time when he and Merry had put one rather reluctant sheep on the top of a barn roof. That had been interesting but it most definitely had not been the sheep’s idea.**

The morning of second Yule Pippin had woken to the smell of sausages cooking. For a second he thought that he might open his eyes and find himself in his own bed but when he opened his eyes he saw the canvas tent above him and felt a small stone poking into his lower back through his bedroll. He sighed. Another entire day alone with the sheep while everyone at home celebrated second Yule without him. Maybe the shepherd would offer to stay today. He’d had one full day of Yule with his family. Maybe he’d offer to let Pippin out of his rash promise in gratitude for that one day. Pippin sat up, stretched and crawled out of his bedroll. At least there was sausage somewhere about.

While Pippin ate pan fried sausages and toast and fired apples the shepherd told Pippin all about spending Yule with his little ones the day before. He told Pippin about dancing with his wife at the Yule celebrations and about drinking with his friends. He told Pippin about singing Yule songs around the fire in the great hall and Pippin knew that the chances that the shepherd meant to let him out of his promise were very slim indeed.

Pippin was just eating his last bite of sausage when the shepherd said, “I know that you’ve had a long, lonely go of it up here yesterday and last night. I want you to know how grateful I am to you and how much my family appreciated it. I also want you to know that Jody is grateful too.” Jody was the other shepherd in charge of the flock. He was older than the shepherd who had cooked Pippin’s breakfast and had been doing this work longer. The two of them would have split the Yule holiday between them, each of them returning to their own little smials for a celebration with their families in their own turn. Neither of them would have made the trip to the Great Smials, which was almost three hours from the meadow on a fast pony. The shepherds would have celebrated quietly with their families and each would have missed a day of Yule to mind the sheep.

Pippin opened his mouth to respond to the grateful shepherd but the Hobbit held up a hand and said, “You’re a young lad and you deserve to be with your family too. I have come prepared to stay today so that you can go on back and be with them for second Yule.” Pippin felt his heart lighten at these words.

“My misses and me talked it over and it’s only fair. Jody and I drew straws on it and I got the short one.” The shepherd grinned. “So you best get your gear together and saddle that pony up.”

Pippin stood, eager to leave but unable to do it when it came down to the actual moment. “You go on,” Pippin said in a much brighter tone then he’d thought he might be able to manage. “I don’t mind sticking around here. I planned it this way, you know. Go on home and be with your children. Today’s the day when the little ones usually put on the Yule play and you don’t want to miss that.” A tiny voice in the back of his mind was insisting that he must be completely insane to pass up a chance to get out of this and back to the Yule celebrations but he pushed it aside the minute he saw the shepherd’s face light up.

Pippin nodded. “I have a book that I plan to read this afternoon.” ‘What a complete load of sheep dung, Peregrin! The tiny voice in his head said and it now sounded strangely like Gandalf, which was very unnerving. Gandalf would never say ‘sheep dung’ would he?

The shepherd laughed and for just a split second Pippin thought that the shepherd might have heard the voice too. “We owe you, lad. My family and I owe you a great debt.”

“No, you don’t,” Pippin smiled. “I volunteered and I’m glad really.” The Gandalf voice made a rather rude “harrumph!” noise in Pippin’s head but Pippin continued to ignore this.

The shepherd smiled, patted Pippin on the back roughly and then said, “I almost forgot!” He hurried over to his own pack, which was lying on the ground near the fire and pulled out a small package. “Your Brandybuck cousin, the Master’s son, asked me to give this to you this morning along with your first breakfast. I am sorry that I nearly forgot it.” He extended the package to Pippin and then sighed a bit guiltily. “I hate to rush off but if I hurry I can be back in time for elevenses in the great hall.”

“Thank you for bringing this,” Pippin smiled. He shook the small package even though he knew exactly what was inside of this one.

Pippin waited until the shepherd had ridden off, and he’d taken stock of the sheep and feed the dogs before setting down and opening Merry’s gift. He pulled the card on top out from beneath the ribbon and opened it first.

I hope you like these. I picked them out myself. You can test them the next time you are in Buckland and the river freezes over. These look like they would be excellent for sliding on the ice to me but I can’t be certain until you’ve had a go at it. Don’t put these on any of those sheep. I’ll see you tomorrow morning unless you volunteer for something else, you silly arse.

Pippin read the note out loud in his best impression of Merry and then opened the package and pulled out a pair of red and green striped gloves. He smiled and then returned them to their box. He’d wait until he saw Merry to cut the fingers out of them.

The gloves weren’t the only treats that the shepherd had brought. Pippin found that the shepherd had left him a tin of Yule biscuits that his wife had made and a fresh loaf of honey bread, which his own mum had sent along. Pippin enjoyed the biscuits while walking among the sheep that morning and saved the bread for elevenses when everyone up at the Great Smials would be having hot cinnamon buns, ginger bread hobbits, tea cakes, and other holiday treats along with their meal while several of the local story-tellers entertained the diners with tales of Yule’s past. Pippin recalled that Bilbo used to be one of the storytellers. Last Yule Frodo had told a Yule tale and received almost as much applause as Bilbo used to get. “And you, Peregrin Took, have been foolish enough to miss the holiday in favor of spending time among these simple-minded animals!” the Gandalf-voice inside of Pippin’s head said in disgust.

Pippin sighed. He wasn’t enjoying hearing Gandalf’s voice in his head because the old Wizard wasn’t saying anything very nice, but at least it was company of a sort. The sheep were not big on conversation.

It was a very long, very cold, day and Pippin felt the minutes drag by nearly as slowly as they had when he’d been a small child forced to sit still during formal teas or during his lessons. Pippin busied himself with looking after the sheep, feeding the dogs, keeping his little fire burning, eating up the entire loaf of honey bread, and attempting to make up a Yule poem. The Yule poem, which Pippin was calling ‘An Ode To Yule” was beyond dreadful but it was something to do as he paced back and forth. Sheep really didn’t do anything interesting.

Pippin recited the latest version of his ode for the sheep and they proceeded to ignore it completely and went on doing what sheep do. When he completed his recitation he bowed low and the Gandalf voice in his head announced. “My, but you are long-winded, aren’t you?”

Pippin spent the rest of the afternoon in this way and he managed to keep his spirits up until evening came. That was when he began to really miss his family and to long to be back home celebrating Yule with the others. It was almost over now. There was only the feasting and the parties this evening and then it would be an entire year until it was Yule again. Pippin would have to wait a whole year before he got the chance to eat any Yule pudding or sing any Yule carols. You didn’t go about singing Yule carols when it wasn’t even Yule and so he’d have to wait a whole, long year before he could sing any unless of course he wanted to look like an idiot. He looked up at the darkening sky as he warmed his hands over his little fire and felt sorry for himself.

Pippin was looking out over the sheep listening to his new friend the Gandalf-voice in his head, telling him about everything he was missing at the Great Smials when suddenly he thought he could hear sleigh bells. Pippin put a finger in his ear and shook his head. There wasn’t any snow, thankfully, and so why would anyone be out in a sleigh? Still, the bells persisted and Pippin turned away from the sheep to look for the source of the jingling. Maybe he should get his bow. “Are you thinking that perhaps a sleigh full of wolves is coming to attack the sheep, Peregrin?” the Gandalf-voice chuckled. Spending time alone with sheep could make you lose your mind. He wasn’t certain why he should be hearing the Wizard’s voice. Gandalf was not in the habit of speaking to him directly that often and Pippin had not seen the old Wizard in some time. No question about it, he was going mad out here among the sheep.

Tiny lights were now visible in the night and Pippin watched as whatever it was came closer. It was too dark to see anything beyond the twinkling lights but there was most assuredly something approaching. Pippin glanced over his shoulder at the sheep, found that they were still doing absolutely nothing, and then turned his attention back to the approaching lights. Now a pair of cart ponies came into view, both decorated in holiday harnesses with little bells on their yokes and colored ribbons in their manes. What had sounded like a sleigh was actually a hay wagon adorned with tiny bells and greenery and colorful ribbon. The wagon came to within several feet of where Pippin stood and stopped.

“Where are those new gloves that I gave you?” Merry shouted from his place in the driver’s seat of the wagon. “I go to all of the trouble of sending you a lovely Yule gift and you don’t even have the manners to wear them.”

“Merry!” Pippin shouted, overjoyed. He had started to run toward the wagon but had caught himself after only one step. He didn’t want it to appear that he was desperate for company or anything. He tried to sound casual but his next question came out in a rush. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

“He had to bring me out here, didn’t he?” Frodo inquired as he climbed down from the back of the wagon and walked over to Pippin. “I told Merry that my holiday would not be complete unless he brought me out here so that I could see the sheep.” Frodo draped an arm around Pippin’s shoulders and gave him a hug. “Tell me, have I missed anything?”

Pippin laughed and leaned into his older cousin’s embrace. “It’s been one exciting thing after another. You know how it is with sheep.”

“Well, that is the most pathetic fire that I have ever seen!” Pippin turned to see his older sister Nell approaching and his mouth fell open. “I should think that at your age you’d know how to build a proper fire, Pippin.”

“Nell, what are you doing here?” Pippin asked, his eyes getting even wider now as he watched his older sister walk toward his dwindling campfire. He had been thinking of putting another log or two on it but he’d been rather busy feeling sorry for himself and had not got to it yet.

“The first thing I’m doing is I’m seeing to this poor little fire of yours,” Nell said and she surveyed the wood pile with her hands on her hips.

“I drove the wagon, Miss Fuss-budget!” Merry protested calling Pervinca by the pet name that he had bestowed upon her when she had been not quite five. “Why don’t you build a fire?”

Before Pervinca could respond to Merry’s question Fredegar Bolger broke into the conversation.

“I’ll build the fire,” Fredegar grinned, putting an arm around Pervinca. “We Bolgers are known to be hot-blooded and so I am the likely one to stoke up the fire around here.”

“Splendid,” Nell grinned. “You have a go at the fire, Freddy and I will help Pearl get the food out of the wagon.”

“Food?” Pippin said regaining his voice. He had been standing next to Frodo watching as his older sisters, cousins and friends had all climbed out of the wagon. Pippin still couldn’t believe his eyes.

“You can’t celebrate Yule without food, Pippin Took,” Estella called out. She was removing something in a covered bowl from the back of the wagon as she spoke.

“Well I am going to light some lanterns,” Berilac announced. “I can eat in the dark if I have to but I’d rather see my food before it goes down.”

“Don’t set the field on fire,” Merry warned as he tied the ponies’ tether to a small tree. “We have food. We don’t need to roast any sheep.”

“Don’t start anything, Merry,” Berilac warned. “It may be Yule but my cheerful holiday mood will only last so long you know.”

“If this is his cheerful holiday mood then I hate to think what he’s like the rest of the year,” Pervinca snorted.

“Exactly,” Merimas nodded taking a bowl of food from Pervinca. “Now you know what I have to put up with.”

“I don’t suppose there’s a table in the wagon is there, Merry?” Falco ventured.

“No, but if you silly hobbits would simply set those bowl back on the wagon and uncover them then we could load up our plates from there and eat by Freddy’s fire,” Merry suggested.

Everyone looked so stunned that they had not thought of this for themselves while Merry chuckled smugly. Pippin looked out into the night and squinted. “Who all have you brought with you? Is there anyone left at the Great Smials?”

“We left a couple of shepherds and their families back at the Smials. They were enjoying themselves immensely thanks to you. I just brought a few hungry hobbits that wanted to celebrate second Yule and the New Year out in a pasture while looking at the sheep,” Merry grinned walking over to where Pippin was standing with Frodo. “I guess you’re too young to know about this but once every fifteen years or so, it is the Yule custom for large groups of Hobbits to set out by wagon for the nearest sheep pasture with a feast in search of a hungry shepherd.” Having started the tale, Merry nudged Frodo and waited for him to continue.

“Every fifteen years, when the hobbits set out on their search, they travel until they find a likely shepherd in need of Yule cheer, warm food and a better fire,” Frodo said taking up the story. “When they find such a shepherd, they stop by his field, admire his sheep, and then they throw a big Yule party right on the edge of his field. They eat and drink and sing and dance and tell fanciful tales, much like this one, long into the night underneath the stars. All the while they are very careful not to lose any of the sheep in their charge but they enjoy themselves and bring Yule to a shepherd who might have missed it completely because he was doing a great kindness for some other shepherds.”

Pippin blinked back a few tears and then said, “Do these generous hobbits who are out bringing cheer ever bring any Yule pudding with them?”

Merry laughed. “How can they be bringing cheer if they have no Yule pudding, you silly Took?”

“There is Yule pudding, but if you expect to get any of it then you better be quick because Fredegar is already loading up his plate,” Pervinca warned.

Fredegar appeared from behind the wagon. “Not my plate, Pippin’s plate.” He held out the full plate and grinned. “Happy Yule, Pippin-lad. Now come and get this before I change my mind.”

The merry band of hobbits ate, drank, sang, danced and told stories until the early hours just before dawn around Fredegar’s much improved fire. The sheep did what they had been doing and the dogs occasionally came close enough to the celebrating Hobbits to beg a treat. The party would have continued on until dawn if the guest of honor hadn’t fallen asleep.

“Lie down and rest a while, Pip,” Merry had suggested gently as Pippin nearly nodded off for the third time in a row. Merry had taken hold of his cousin’s braces in order to keep him from falling toward the fire.

“I have to watch the sheep, Merry,” Pippin objected trying to shake himself awake.

“I’ll look after them,” Frodo said standing to go over to where he could see the sheep better. “I came all this way just to see these sheep and I haven’t spent any time with them.”

“It’s my job,” Pippin said trying to get to his feet. Merry reached out and snagged Pippin about the waist and pulled him back into a sitting position.

“Yes he is,” Frodo said, bowing. “I am your relief tonight. I talked the shepherds into letting me do the job this evening.”

Frodo shrugged. “The point of fact is that I am in charge of all of those fat, boring, sheep for the next six hours and you, Peregrin Took, are to take a break and get some sleep because you will have to watch them for a bit in the morning until the shepherds return from the Great Smials.”

“Now, stretch out here on these blankets by the fire and close your eyes,” Merry instructed.

“I’ve seen sheep before,” Frodo sighed. “I was looking at sheep before you were born.”

“You don’t just look at them,” Pippin objected with a yawn. “You have to see to it that they don’t run off.” He leaned his head against Merry’s shoulder and yawned again.

“I’ll help him,” Nell smiled, standing. “You know perfectly well that I used to help with the sheep on our farm in Whitwell. I know all about sheep.”

“Lie down, Pip,” Merry coaxed and Pippin complied. Merry pulled a heavy blanket over his younger cousin and allowed Pippin to lean his head against his thigh. “Now, close that big mouth of yours and get some sleep. Those sheep aren’t going anywhere unless I decided to take a few of them for a Yule ride in my fancy wagon.”

Pippin’s eyes popped open. “I wonder how many of them would fit in the wagon?”

“Try it, either one of you, and so help me I will make you regret it!” Frodo warned as the others laughed. “These wild animals are my responsibility for the next six hours and I am not about to let the two of you cart them around in that wagon.”

“Wild animals? Are you talking about the sheep, or Merry and Pippin?” Nell asked.

Merry shrugged. “Go to sleep, Pippin. Shepherd’s helper Baggins is in a foul mood.”

Pippin snickered and closed his eyes. Merry looked down and noticed that Pippin was wearing his new gloves, already minus the fingers. As Pippin drifted off to sleep he thought he heard Gandalf say, “You are going to have to revise your ‘Ode to Yule’, Peregrin. This has been one of the finest holidays that you have ever experienced.”

Pippin mumbled something and Merry frowned. “What did he say?” Pervinca whispered leaning over her brother and tucking the blankets underneath his chin.

“I must have heard him wrong,” Merry whispered with a shrug. “I could have sworn that he just said, “Shut up, Gandalf and go to sleep.”

**The story about Merry and Pippin putting a sheep on the barn is posted to “Trust a Brandybuck and A Took” and is called “On A Cloudy Day, You Can See…”

***The reference to Pippin’s dislike for mittens and gloves comes from a story that I wrote for “Trust a Brandybuck and A Took” called “Snow and Ice”.

This was written in Dec. of 2006 for the Waymeet 'get cracking' fiction challenge.

“How did you manage this?” Merry sighed looking at the large patch of smoldering ground. He knelt down on one knee and ran a finger across a portion of the blackened earth. “When I left to go up to the Hall this morning we had grass in this area. I will grant you that the grass was short, brown, and frost-coated, but it was grass and it was here when I left.” When there was no answer, Merry looked up squinting against the bright afternoon sunlight and posed the question again, “How did you manage this, Peregrin?”

Standing on the other side of the dark ring of earth, Pippin grimaced and then looked skyward, holding his hands out as if trying to catch something. “Why doesn’t it ever snow when you want it to?” he said. “It’s winter after all and snow is not unheard of at this time of the year. I believe I can recall a few times when I was much younger when we had snow before Yule.” He dropped his hands to his sides and paced the edge of the burnt patch of ground. “It isn’t as if I wanted it to do anything unnatural. I just needed a bit of snow for ground cover. Something to replace the grass for a bit and give it time to grow back.”

“I can see why you might want to hide this scorched patch of garden but you still haven’t explained what happened here,” Merry reminded his younger cousin. “I am looking at the evidence of a disaster but I have no idea what happened. Stand still and explain this before my imagination runs away with me and I invent my own dreadful explanation.”

Pippin stopped and turned to face Merry. “If it had snowed then I wouldn’t have anything at all to explain,” Pippin pointed out, his breath coming out in puffs of white in the cold air.

“So you were hoping for enough snow to cover this six foot patch of earth, your jacket,” Merry pointed to the ruined garment, which lay in the middle of the black ring. “And your left hand.” He looked at Pippin and watched as his younger cousin quickly hid the afore-mentioned hand behind his back.

“Burned it on the cook stove,” Pippin said hurried. His delivery was obviously rehearsed. “I was cooking while you were away and I injured my hand.”

“What were you cooking? The grass perhaps? Your jacket?” Merry looked back at the ground again. “You must have been using an uncommonly large pot.”

“I didn’t burn my hand on the cook stove,” Pippin said in an annoyed tone. “But if it had only been kind enough to snow then I should have been able to say that I had. If it weren’t for this small, burned patch here then you would have been all too ready to believe that my cooking was responsible.”

“Well, I would have hidden that before you came, wouldn’t I?” Pippin said. “I’d have tucked it away somewhere out of sight. You wouldn’t have asked me where my jacket was because you’d have been busy enough asking me about my hand. You wouldn’t have had time to question me further. Then later, when my jacket didn’t turn up, I’d have had time to plan what to say when you asked me about that.” Pippin looked up at the sky again. “If it had snowed then we wouldn’t be discussing any of this!”

“But it didn’t snow,” Merry said. He stood up and walked over to Pippin. “Let me see your hand.”

“It’s fine. It isn’t very bad. I’ve done worse to it over the years,” Pippin shrugged. He had the hand behind his back. He looked into Merry’s grey eyes and said, “I wrapped it.”

“I noticed that,” Merry said, reaching out and taking hold of Pippin arm and pulling the hand from behind his back. “That is how I know that you’ve injured it. The winding strip is what gave it away.”

Pippin scowled. “I had to put something on it. It isn’t bad but it does sting a bit.”

Merry whistled softly after unwrapping Pippin’s hand. “You’ve blistered the palm.” He studied the injury. “You didn’t break the skin but you’ve made a fine mess of it all the same. Did you put anything on this other than what you wrapped it in?”

“I dowsed it in cold water for a while to take away some of the sting,” Pippin said.

Pippin shook his head and winced as Merry lightly touched one of the red fingers.

“Come inside and let me put something on this,” Merry instructed. He released Pippin’s hand, took him by the shoulders and turned him toward the little house. “The grass will grow back on its own this spring but that hand needs tending.”

Pippin sat at the kitchen table with his hand in a bowl of cold water while Merry mixed together some plants and powers to make a poultice for the injury. Pippin had been very quiet since they had left the garden. Merry had managed to keep quiet also although he was finding it difficult not to question Pippin about what had happened. Merry put a kettle on for tea and put out a tin of biscuits that he’d brought back from the Hall. Pippin was ignoring the biscuits and staring into the cold water at his hand.

“Mum made these,” Merry said lightly. “I believe they’re your favorites.” Merry knew perfectly well that they were Pippin’s favorites. “She made both of us a tin of biscuits for the holiday. The ones that she sent to you are the ones with the raspberry jam in the center. Mine are those maple-flavored ones with the walnuts but I would be willing to share if you fancy one of mine instead.”

Merry sat two cups of tea on the table and then he placed the bowl, which contained the poultice in the center of the table and put a tea towel next to it. He took a sip of his tea and then reached over and removed Pippin’s injured hand from the bowl of cold water. I’m going to place your hand on the towel with the injured side up so that I will be able to apply the poultice to it,” Merry said.

Pippin nodded and set his jaw as if preparing for the pain. He gripped the edge of the table with his good hand and waited.

“I shall do my best not to hurt you too much,” Merry said gently. Merry began to coat Pippin’s hand with the poultice. Pippin sat still throughout the entire process but didn’t make a sound. Merry noticed that the knuckles of his cousin’s uninjured hand were white from gripping the table and that Pippin’s eyes were watering. Merry worked quickly. He completed his task and then gently wrapped Pippin’s hand in fresh winding cloth.

Pippin released the table and then put the injured hand in his lap averting his eyes from Merry’s.

“There is a bit of willow bark in your tea,” Merry said. “It will ease the pain slightly. I put extra honey in it to keep it from being so bitter.” When Pippin didn’t reply and didn’t drink any of the tea Merry decided that the time had come for explanations. Pippin needed to talk about it even if he was hesitant to do so. Merry cleared his throat to begin but before he could do so, Pippin broke his silence.

“I’ve ruined Yule, Merry,” Pippin said. “I didn’t mean to, but I have all the same.”

“Pippin, your hand is not that badly injured,” Merry said. “We are still almost a week away from Yule. I am quite certain that your injury will not spoil the holiday for you or for anyone else.”

“I’ve ruined one of your very favorite Brandybuck traditions,” Pippin said looking at Merry now. “I’ve spoiled the one thing that you most look forward to over the Yule holidays.”

“Because of whatever happened here today I will not be getting any of the Yule feast?” Merry frowned.

“I won’t be seeing any of my family or friends this year?” Merry’s eyes were twinkling now.

“Of course you will!” Pippin said. “They might not allow me into Brandy Hall for the celebrations but you will most certainly be allowed.”

“When your father finds out what I’ve done then I suspect that will be one of the results,” Pippin sighed. “He trusted me and I’ve spoiled things. He won’t be at all pleased, Merry.”

“One of your favorite traditions of course,” Pippin said. “I don’t know why he allowed me to be the one to see to them because we don’t have them at all in the Tooklands. It isn’t something that we do there. No Took would consider putting a lit candle into a parchment sack.” Pippin pulled his teacup over closer to his side of the table and stared into it.

“The Yule lights?” Merry asked, looking at his own teacup in an effort to hide his growing amusement. Bucklanders enjoyed decorating for Yule by setting out little decorative sacks with designs cut into the sides and candles glowing from within them. The light from the candles would shine out through the decorative pattern cut into the sacks and illuminate the way to and from folk’s smials. They were a way of welcoming Yule guests and were generally set on either side of the path to one’s door. Merry had always enjoyed them.

“It was dreadful, Merry,” Pippin said looking completely distraught. “The wee bags just burst into flames! One of them caught on fire almost the second that I lit the candle and so I kicked it to try and stamp out the flames but I knocked it into one of the others and that one fell into another one and before I could stop any of it they were falling down and burning up!”

Merry’s shoulders were shaking and he had his hand over his mouth to muffle the laughter threatening to escape.

“Then the grass caught fire and everything just started burning,” Pippin said in a rush. “I pulled off my jacket because it was the only thing about and began to try and beat out the flames but then my jacket caught fire too and then I singed my hand on it. I dropped it to the ground and it landed on some more of the wee sacks and those went up too! I thought all of Buckland might burn to the ground before it went out. Two old hobbits happened by while I was battling the blaze and one of them shouted at me!”

Merry’s eyes were watering now. He could feel himself shaking and he lowered his chin to his chest.

“The old gaffer called me a twit!” Pippin said in an outraged tone. “He looked over at his friend and shouted, “This is what comes of letting Tooks across that water. Their sort will drive us from our holes and into the forest.”

Merry could stand it no longer. He leaned back in his chair and roared with laughter. The indignant look on Pippin’s face only made it worse. His side hurt from laughing.

“That old gaffer insulted me, Meriadoc!” Pippin objected trying to speak above Merry’s laughter. “He called me a twit! The two of them didn’t offer to help or anything. They just stood there and watched while I roasted my jacket and burned my hand and destroyed our grass!” Pippin lowered his voice and looked at the tabletop. “I’ve ruined Yule.”

Still fighting the urge to laugh, Merry reached across the table and patted Pippin’s uninjured hand. “No you haven’t, Pip. I’m feeling much jollier than I did a few minutes ago and the holiday is all about enjoying one's self,” Merry chuckled.

Pippin looked up at him. “It isn’t funny, Meriadoc! I really could have burned our house to the ground with those blasted Yule Lights. I can’t understand why Bucklanders insist on putting something that is on fire into something that will burn. You lot talk about Tooks being impractical and then you go about lighting candles and sticking them into wee sacks out on your lawn!”

“Think about it, Pip,” Merry laughed. “Pretend that you are one of those two old gaffers and you walk by and see someone trying to put out a fire with their own jacket because they’ve set the Yule decoration a blaze.”

“Maybe they were afraid that you’d set them on fire as well if they got too close,” Merry grinned. “I don’t know about the Tooks, but we Brandybucks try not to get too close to anyone who is burning up his own jacket.”

“But I’ve ruined Yule, Merry,” Pippin said his eyes clouding over again. “You’ve always loved those ridiculous candle-sacks.”

“I am known to be quite found of ridiculous things at times,” Merry said winking at Pippin.

“It isn’t funny,” Pippin objected. “Your father gave me those wee sacks and told me that I could use them to decorate our little house at Yule this year. He said that it would be a surprise for you because you love those Yule Lights.”

“And did he also tell you that I once managed to set a row of bushes on fire with those Yule Lights?” Merry asked leaning on his elbows on the table.

“The first year that he allowed me to light them, I placed two of them a bit too close to the bushes that run along the path toward the tool shed and-“

“No, I lit the bushes on fire,” Merry corrected and took a sip of his tea. “The bushes burned until there was a fine blaze going and then they caught the shed on fire. That was about the time that I returned with a bucket of water. I arrived with my one bucket of water just in time to watch the tool shed burn.”

“You still fell short of burning down a building,” Merry grinned. “You have to get up pretty early in the morning if you want to best me at this sort of thing. I do believe that my Yule Light disaster is far more impressive than yours.”

“That would be my guess,” Merry grinned. “You see, for some reason he doesn’t trust me to light them properly. I think I should have put more stones in the bottom of them to weigh them down better. That might have helped. Of course it might also have helped if I hadn’t lined them up along the bushes.”

“You did put the stones into the bottom of the sacks to weigh them down, didn’t you?” Merry asked.

“He gave me the sacks and the wee candles but he didn’t give me any stones!” Pippin objected. “I didn’t know that there were supposed to be stones.”

“That was part of what I couldn’t understand,” Pippin groaned. “I couldn’t get them to hold still. The wind kept taking them and knocking them over. I’d just get them set up and put the candle in them and off they’d go!” He watched as Merry dissolved into a fit of laughter. “He didn’t say a word about stones! If I had known about the stones then I might not have had so much trouble with them.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that we don’t have these wee fire-starters in the Tooklands? I didn’t know about the stones, Merry,” Pippin objected.

“Well, at least I didn’t burn down a building!” Pippin fidgeted slightly and then took a drink of his tea. He reached over with his good hand and removed a biscuit out of the tin. He was obviously hungry again. As Merry’s fit of laughter died down, Pippin asked, “What do I tell Uncle Doc?”

“Tell him the truth, Pip,” Merry said getting a biscuit too. “Tell him that Tooks don’t have the stones to decorate properly.”

I do realize that most people put sand in the bags to hold them up but I just thought that the Hobbits might not have had all that much sand sitting around. Besides, I thought ‘stones’ were funnier.

This is not strictly a Yule ficiton but I decided that it belongs here with my other winter fictions. So here is this year's offering of the season.

“It’s so very gloomy with all of the leaves gone from the trees. It’s so quiet,” Frodo said looking out at the falling snow.

“I know that,” Frodo sighed. “It’s quiet everywhere.” Frodo shivered slightly and leaned against the tree. “I miss the sunshine and the warm nights.”

“It’s getting late and it’s winter,” Merry laughed gently. “All proper hobbits and sensible creatures have found shelter for the night. In fact, I was about to suggest that you and I go back inside and I’ll make a pot of tea. We can sit by the fire and have a pipe.”

“You can’t even see the stars tonight,” Frodo sighed as if Merry had not spoken at all. Frodo pointed out toward the falling snow and said, “Too many clouds for the stars.”

“You are in a very strange mood, Cousin,” Merry said gently. “What is troubling you?”

“Nothing really,” Frodo said. “I just find it a bit sad when the winter comes. My lovely garden is gone for the season and the air is too damp and chilly for a proper walk in the woods. No flowers or brightly colored leaves. No leaves of any sort. You and I have only been out here for an hour and both of us are damp and cold. I miss late evenings looking at the stars.”

Suddenly snow began to rain down upon both hobbits from overhead. Huge chunks of it dropped out of the tree and coated them both and then something large came tumbling out of the tree and fell at their feet. Merry and Frodo leaned forward and looked down. Two bright green eyes looked back at them and Pippin said, “Did I surprise you?” He was lying on his back in the snow looking as if he had been frosted from head to toe.

Merry laughed. “Pippin, are you mad? You’ve fallen out of the tree! You could have been injured.” Merry said this as though it were the most amusing thing ever.

“Injured,” Pippin said. “Help me up.” He reached one snow-covered arm up toward Merry.

“Why should I?” Merry asked. “You got yourself down. Shouldn’t you be able to get yourself up again?”

Pippin sighed. “I suppose but it might be easier if you helped.” He continued to wave his arm at Merry and then he lifted his other arm and stretched it out toward Frodo. “You could help too, you know.”

Frodo, who had been dusting the snow from his shoulders and the top of his head, frowned at Pippin. “You are supposed to be inside asleep.”

“He always loses them,” Merry smiled. “He does it on purpose.” Merry and Frodo both leaned forward and each of them grabbed one of Pippin’s cold hands and pulled him to his feet. “It’s only the beginning of winter and I’m willing to bet that Pippin has lost at least three pairs of gloves already.”

“You’d lose,” Pippin said grinning. “I’ve lost four.” He said this proudly.

"Well, I'll just have to get you another pair of them for Yule then," Merry grinned. It was a bit of a joke between them. Merry always got Pippin a pair of gloves for Yule along with whatever else he gave him.

Frodo did not look amused or impressed. “You are supposed to be in doors asleep. You are not supposed to be falling out of the trees in my garden. This is not a proper hour for a fourteen-year-old lad to be up and about.”

“The snow will be gone tomorrow,” Pippin objected. “It never lasts very long. If I go in and sleep now then I won’t see the snow. I can sleep tomorrow when all it is out here is cold and the snow is gone. We don’t have much snow.”

“Why do I have the feeling that no matter what I say at this point I won’t win?” Frodo asked trying not to smile.

“I could pick him up and carry him into the smial and sit on him until morning,” Merry offered.

Pippin stepped back a bit from Merry and said, “You’d have to catch me first.”

“Lads,” Frodo said trying to avoid more foolishness. “It is too cold to be running about in the garden. The snow is falling thicker now.”

“No it isn’t,” Pippin laughed. “You just look like it because I dropped snow on top of you from that tree!” He reached down and picked up a handful of the snow as he spoke. “It’s not falling any faster at all. I wish it would but it’s not.”

“I wish it were a clear night and that the stars were out,” Frodo sighed. “I wish you were in bed asleep, Peregrin Took.”

“There are stars!” Pippin objected. “They’re all over the place!” He spun in a circle with both arms out as he said this.

“Not those kind,” Pippin said. “Snow stars! All of the flakes look like little stars falling down. When the light from inside of your windows hits them they twinkle just like stars.” Pippin leaned his head back and stuck out his tongue to catch several snowflakes.

Frodo and Merry looked at the falling snow and Frodo smiled. “They do look like stars,” he murmured. Before he could say more on the subject something cold hit him in the jaw and he turned to see Pippin laughing. “Peregrin Took!”

“Snowball attack!” Pippin shouted and threw another, this time hitting Merry in the chest.

“You are going to die!” Merry announced scooping up a handful of snow and pelting Pippin in the face with it.

Pippin clutched at his forehead and moaned. “I’ve been hit!” He fell flat on his back in the snow and Merry unleashed a barrage of snowballs on top of his still form until all that could be clearly seen was Pippin’s sharp nose and red fingers and his feet. Everything else was a blanket of white.

Frodo sighed still fighting a smile and walked over to help Pippin up. “Get up out of that snow, Peregrin Took. He held out his gloved hand and Pippin reached up and grabbed hold. It was then that Merry placed his foot on Frodo’s backside and neatly pushed him over on top of Pippin.

Frodo ignored Pippin and quickly got to his feet with a snowball in each hand. “You do not win,” he said and he landed a perfect hit right in the middle of Merry’s face.

“On the nose!” Pippin shouted sitting up. “And a very big target that is!” He began to throw snowballs of his own.

Merry hid behind the trunk of the tree and quickly began to gather an impressive pile of snowballs while Frodo was trying to find a good vantage point from which to take aim at Merry. Pippin, being far more reckless, jumped to his feet with a snowball in each hand and charged around the tree screaming, “Snowball attack!”

Frodo stood and watched as snow puffed out from behind the tree and a great deal of shouting and wrestling ensued.

Frodo chuckled as he listened but little did he know that a plot was in the making. As he stood listening to the battle, Merry crept out from behind the tree and came up behind him, smashing a snowball in Frodo’s face.

“It worked!” Pippin shouted bouncing on his toes as he danced out from behind the tree. “We got him! It worked! I was loud enough for a whole battle and you sneaked up on him! Good work, Merry!”

Frodo pushed Merry into the snow and began to aim snowballs at the dancing figure of Pippin Took. Laughing, Merry sat up and began to help Frodo.

“No fair! Merry, you can’t switch sides!” Pippin shouted falling face first into the snow and putting his arms over his head. “I’m out numbered and I’m the youngest!”

“That’s exactly why you are supposed to be in bed,” Frodo said throwing another snowball.

“And you did start this war,” Merry said throwing a snowball of his own and hitting Pippin’s arms which were still protecting his head.

“Not you,” Merry laughed. “You’ve fallen out of enough trees in your short life. You know how to land. In fact, I think you jumped!” He was standing over Pippin now and had thrown his last snowball onto Pippin’s back.

“I think perhaps you should have stayed in bed where it was safe,” Frodo laughed.

Just then Pippin kicked out one leg and managed to catch Merry completely by surprise. Pippin’s leg connected with the side of Merry’s shin and down he went onto his bum in the snow. Pippin sat up, scooped up some snow and hit Merry with it full in the face. “Now who should be in bed?” Pippin demanded.

“You are not getting anything at all for Yule this year! You’ve been too wicked,” Merry said and he grabbed Pippin’s ankle and pulled him back down. “I’ll teach you some respect for your older, better looking cousin.” Much wrestling ensued with both cousins yelling insults and threats that would be impossible to carry out while Frodo watched the tiny snowflakes fall down from the sky twinkling like tiny stars. Without knowing exactly why, Frodo was filled with a new fascination for the snowflakes. He was cold and he was damp but the garden was rather pretty. Perhaps Pippin had been right. He hadn’t been looking at the snowflakes properly. He’d been too busy missing the sunshine and the long summer days and the crunch of dry leaves underneath his feet in the autumn and he’d forgot to enjoy the winter.

“It’s cold,” Pippin was saying between chattering teeth and Frodo realized that both of his cousins were now standing next to him covered in snow and shaking. Pippin had his hands underneath his arms and melting snow was dripping from his damp curls.

“That h-hot tea I suggested earlier sounds g-g-good now,” Merry said pulling off his damp gloves and stuffing them into his pockets. His cheeks were bright red and he was blowing on his hands.

Frodo wrapped an arm about either cousin pulling them in close for warmth and began walking toward Bag End. “I win,” he said softly.

“Exactly, Meriadoc,” Frodo said. “I allowed the two of you to wear each other out and now, if I wanted to, I could take you both.”

“Ah, but it is fair,” Frodo said. “You’re both just annoyed because neither of you thought of it. It’s an excellent battle plan. You set your enemies against one another and that makes less work for you.”

“Cheating,” Pippin said stubbornly as Frodo opened the front door of Bag End.

Frodo stood in front of the doorway blocking it and said, “If I have cheated then you don’t have to come in and have hot tea and warm crumpets and sit by the fire. You can remain out here in the lovely snow on principle.”

“I have no principles,” Merry said pushing past Frodo and hurrying into the smial.

Shivering, Pippin looked at Frodo for a moment and then he said, “I have principles but I’ll trade them for tea and crumpets and maybe a hot bath?”

Frodo stepped aside and waved Pippin in. “I’ll accept your offer of a trade. Now get your frozen backside in here before you catch your death.”

Pippin hurried into the smial following the path of wet footprints that Merry had left and mixing his own with them as he went.

Later that evening when both Merry and Pippin were sound asleep Frodo slipped back out into the frozen garden and enjoyed the snowflakes and the quiet. Winter did have its own charm if you looked at it properly.

Merry frowned at the two objects in his hands and then blinked as if trying to decide if he was actually seeing what he appeared to be seeing.

“Put them back in the wrapping and pack them away,” Pippin suggested nervously. “I won’t say a word to anyone. You can write a lovely note to Eowyn thanking her for the Yule gift and that will be the end of it.” Pippin wrinkled up his nose and peered at the two items with obvious distaste. “It’s clear that the Lady Eowyn doesn’t understand hobbits as well as you might have believed, Cousin.”

“They feel strangely soft and it is a nice, bright pattern,” Merry said as he turned the objects over in his hands and studied them. “I do think she meant well and it must have been a fair amount of work for her.”

“Oh, I’m certain that she meant well,” Pippin said though he sounded doubtful. “And according to all of my sisters knitting is very difficult so she did go to a bit of trouble to make,’ Pippin paused and then cleared his throat. “Those things.”

“She calls them slip-pers in her note, Pippin,” Merry sighed. “It won’t harm you to use the word. No one is planning to hold you down and force them onto your feet.”

Merry smiled. “Eowyn is concerned about me. She says that these will help keep my feet warm on cold winter nights. She never could understand how hobbits went without shoes all of the time. Sometimes when she didn’t think I was looking, she would glance over at my feet and I could tell she was wondering about them. For some reason Hobbit feet seemed to puzzle her.” Merry shrugged and smiled. He picked up the note, which had come with the gift. “She writes, ‘Merry, I studied long and hard about what I should give you for your Yule holiday this year-“

Merry glared at him and then continued to read. “I know how hobbits enjoy baked goods but I was afraid that something of that sort might not arrive still fit to eat. Faramir said that it would be an ill-advised gift since nothing would be less festive than receiving stale bread or ruined sweets.”

“Faramir is correct about that,” Pippin said. “I do wish that Rohan were closer to the Shire though. As I recall, the Lady Eowyn is a very fine cook.”

“Because of this, I decided to send you something else. Faramir and Eomer advised against the gift that I selected but I am sending it in spite of them.” Merry smiled as he read this. Eowyn was such a strong-willed person. How well he remembered her determination.

Pippin opened his mouth to say something but decided against it when Merry’s smile slipped from his face and he glared at him a second time. He sat back and waited for Merry to finish reading. It was the Yule season after all and it would not be at all pleasant to spend the holiday with a grumpy Merry.

“I realize that these will be something of a novelty in your homeland but if you give them a try I think you will find them useful. Happy Yule to you and your family and please give my best to Frodo and Sam and Peregrin.” Merry stopped there and folded the note. “The rest of it is rather private.”

“The Rohirrim can be rather formal and I think she means it respectfully,” Merry grinned. “She does think that you are a prince.”

Merry shrugged. “I may have explained it but I suspect that she took the fact that everyone in the city of Minas Tirith was addressing you as such to be evidence of the truth of your important station.”

Now Pippin was scowling at Merry. “What do you mean when you say that you may have explained it?”

“Biscuit?” Merry asked innocently extending one of the Yule biscuit tins to Pippin.

Distracted for the moment, Pippin accepted a biscuit and Merry looked at his gift again. “I shall write to her and tell her how much I admire the pattern and thank her for her thoughtful gift,” Merry said. “They do have most of my favorite colors in them.”

“She was probably using up her bits and pieces,” Pippin said chewing his biscuit.

“Well, when you’ve knitted several items you find that you have a bit of this colour and a bit of that colour left and not enough of any of the colours to make anything so you put them all together and make something that looks rather like those look,” Pippin said popping the last of the biscuit into his mouth. “Pearl calls it using up the bits and pieces and Pervinca just calls it piece work.”

Pippin grinned. “Nell never worries with it. She never has anything left. I think that’s why all of the things she makes are so large. She uses up the wool completely even if less would do.”

Merry looked at the brightly coloured slippers and said, “So in your opinion, Eowyn took the left over pieces from some of her other gifts and made mine?” Merry looked a bit hurt.

“Well, maybe she did that because she wasn’t certain what your favorite colours might be,” Pippin said trying to repair any damage he might have done. He hadn’t meant to imply that the Lady Eowyn had given Merry a cast off sort of gift but he supposed, upon reflection, his words might have come out badly. He was only trying to give Merry the benefit of his knitting expertise. Pippin didn’t knit but since all of his sisters did he felt that entitled him to express an expert opinion on the subject. He’d spent years listening to them discuss knitting. He’d worn whatever they had knitted for him no matter how it looked. That should entitle him to call himself an expert on the subject. He had been exposed to knitting all of his life!

“I guess I’ll put them away,” Merry said placing the slippers back in their wrapping. He looked far less interested in them now and while Pippin was glad that Merry was not considering anything so rash as wearing them he did feel badly for having upset Merry regarding Eowyn’s intent.

“That’s best, Merry,” Pippin said encouragingly. “You’d never explain them to anyone and you certainly can’t wear them. You remember what they used to say about Daffodil Hardgrove don’t you?”

“Daffodil Hardgrove?” Merry frowned trying to recall. The name was familiar but he couldn’t quite place it.

“Oh, Merry,” Pippin looked stunned. “You remember her. She’s that lass who is always going about wearing those mud boots.”

“Oh! I remember now,” Merry said looking horror struck. “She’s from down in the Marish and her father owns that land near the low banks of the Brandywine. It floods regularly so they always kept boots at their place.”

“Exactly!” Pippin said. “She used to come into Buckland wearing those mud boots and tromp all about the shops and everywhere. Folks used to call her Daffy Duck because of the way she walked in those boots. Odd lass, that one.”

“There’s not a lad in the Shire addled enough to marry Daffy Duck,” Pippin said wrinkling his nose. “It’s all well for the big folk and dwarves to run about with their feet covered but hobbits just don’t do that sort of thing. Why if folks found out about these, sliders-“

“Slippers, Pippin,” Merry corrected slightly amused with Pippin’s efforts to seem proper. Pippin had been very careful since they’d returned from the Quest to make an effort at mature behavior. Merry and Frodo had found it rather funny at times.

“Yes, well, whatever you call them, if folks found out that you had them or that you had worn them they’d likely start calling you Merry Duck,” Pippin predicted looking a bit too pleased by that idea.

“The ones that enjoyed having all of their teeth wouldn’t,” Merry said warningly. “Besides, I seem to recall a certain hobbit lad that wanted to buy an old shoe from a junk shop in Hobbiton.”

“I was only a child then,” Pippin objected. “And I didn’t mean to wear it. I just thought it was interesting.”

“Frodo and I had to argue long and hard to keep you from buying that smelly old shoe,” Merry laughed as he recalled Pippin carting the thing all over the junk shop begging to be allowed to purchase it.

“You tried it on,” Merry laughed again. “You tried it on and clomped all over the junk shop. I practically had to sit on you while Frodo pulled it off your foot. The shopkeeper nearly made us buy it just because you’d had the cheek to try it on.”

“Why don’t you ever recall anything about me that isn’t embarrassing?” Pippin winced.

“It isn’t my fault,” Merry said. “You were an embarrassing little child. It’s a wonder your parents kept you.”

“Well, I know better than to wear anything on my feet now,” Pippin said pointedly glancing at the slippers as he spoke. To change the subject Pippin held out another package to Merry and smiled. “This is from Sam so I am certain that he’s got you something practical. Open this one next.”

Merry looked at the package and smiled. Knowing Sam as he did, Merry suspected that Pippin was correct. This would be a practical gift. In spite of his misgivings about Eowyn’s slippers the gift had been interesting and he’d never received footwear before. Not once. At least there was still Pippin’s gift. It would not be practical. It would not be anything so different as slippers but it wouldn’t be anything useful. Pippin might object to Eowyn’s selection but his own was likely to be just as unconventional. Merry grinned and took Sam’s gift from Pippin.

It was cold. The fire had gone out in the night again. Merry sighed and got up out of his warm bed to go and build a new fire. It was First Yule and he and Pippin would be expected up at Brandy Hall soon. They had opened their packages last night as was their custom but today they would open more gifts at the Hall and enjoy several large meals. Merry loved Yule and all of its traditions. He’d warm up the little house and then wake Pippin. Merry hurried across the room toward the fireplace being careful to step down only on his toes so that his whole foot would not have to be chilled.

Just before he reached the tinderbox he saw them. Eowyn’s slippers were still sitting in the wrapping on the chair in his room. Merry studied them warily for a moment and then walked over and picked them up. Did they really keep one’s feet warm? Now would most certainly be a good time to verify that fact. It was very cold and no one could see him. What would be the harm?

“It’s cold in here,” Pippin said shivering and keeping his blanket wrapped about his shoulders as he entered the parlour. “I can see my breath before me.” He puffed out a long breath to illustrate the fact and then pulled the blanket closer about him.

“Well, if you’d slept just a bit longer then you would have been treated to a nice warm fire,” Merry said as he lit the kindling. “I built a fire in my room and I came in here to start one before getting you out of bed. I was planning for the warm parlour to be a bit of Yule cheer for you but here you are before the deed is done.”

“You know I can’t sleep on Yule morning,” Pippin grinned. “Even now I-“ He broke off and gasped, stepping back and nearly tripping over his blanket. “M-M-Merry, what have you got on your feet?” Pippin stared in horror at Merry’s slippered feet.

Merry shrugged. “I decided to give Eowyn’s gift a try. I think that’s only fair really.”

“What if someone comes?” Pippin looked completely astounded. “You can’t be seen running about the house in those! It isn’t the sort of thing that a proper hobbit would do, Merry!”

“Are you going to lecture me on how to behave like a proper hobbit?” Merry asked raising one eyebrow and looking amused. “You?”

“No, and I suspect that they’re rather cold, aren’t they?” Merry smiled. He lifted one slipped foot and wiggled the toe of it at Pippin.

“No more than they usually are on a winter morning,” Pippin said. He backed up a step and grimaced.

“My feet and quite warm and toasty,” Merry said looking down at the colourful slippers. “I think I like slippers.”

“But I do like them, Pippin,” Merry said with a shrug. “I can’t help it. They’re warm and they’re comfortable and I like the pattern.”

“Stripes?” Pippin stared at the slippers as if he might need to hurry over and wrestle them from Merry’s feet in order to save his cousin from harm.

“Yes,” Merry said. “I like stripes. They have blue and green and yellow and white and red and brown in them and the pattern repeats itself exactly. I don’t think they were made out of left over wool. She worked out a pattern and went to the trouble of making certain that the pattern is the same on both slippers.” Merry lifted his foot again and pointed to the bottom of the slipper. “And they have that nice leather on the bottom to keep me from slipping when I walk.” Merry frowned. “I wonder why they do call them slippers if they go to the trouble of making them in such a way so that you don’t slip?”

Pippin made a choking sound. “Y-You don’t mean to wear those, those, those-“

“Slippers,” Merry supplied when it seemed as if Pippin might be stuck on that word all day without help. “Eowyn calls them slippers.”

“I don’t care what she calls them,” Pippin said looking fidgety. “You don’t mean to wear them to Brandy Hall for First Yule do you?”

“You don’t wear slippers outside,” Merry said pleased to know something about the interesting footwear. “I could pack them in my rucksack and then put them on at the Hall-‘

“No, I won’t,” Merry said shaking his head. “The shock of seeing me in these might kill my parents. No, I won’t be wearing them to the Hall but I do think I will be wearing them here on cold mornings so you might as well adjust to them, Pip.”

“I know,” Merry said. “And my feet are warm on a very cold morning for the first time that I can recall.” Merry turned and walked out of the room while Pippin stared after him. The slippers made Merry walk rather oddly. Pippin’s eyes widened. Merry was walking like a duck! Like Daffodil Hardgrove had walked! Pippin guessed that was because hobbits simply were not supposed to be wearing slippers. A thought struck him and he called out, “Merry! Do you think those, er, things might harm your feet? What if they make your foot hair fall out?”

“Go into you room and get dressed to go to the Hall, Pippin,” Merry chuckled. “Eowyn would not send me anything harmful!”

Pippin winced and walked toward his room looking very upset about it all. Merry might become attached to wearing things on his feet and then what would happen? Would Merry began wearing boots? Master’s son or not, Merry would be run out of Buckland if he started acting that oddly. This was not at all good.

It was terribly cold and Pippin’s feet were like ice. He’d just come in from milking his cow and he was shivering. He cursed the fact that the fire had gone out. He knew that he should have built it up more before going out to the barn. Merry was probably still in bed sound asleep at Bag End.

Pippin had intended to visit Bag End with Merry but he’d stayed behind because he had only just returned from the Tooklands the past week. His mum had insisted on a longer visit than Pippin had planned so Merry was gone when Pippin returned home. He sat the pail of milk on the table, removed his wet coat and scarf and hurried into Merry’s room to get a jumper. He knew that Merry kept one out on the bed for early mornings. Pippin’s room was a complete mess at the moment. He’d not had time to unpack and he hadn’t wanted to do his washing so he figured that borrowing Merry’s jumper might be his best plan.

Shivering and fumbling with the jumper, Pippin pulled it over his head and was putting his arms through the sleeves when he saw them. Merry’s slippers were lying on the bed. They had been beneath the jumper. Pippin should have known that Merry wouldn’t risk taking them with him to Bag End. Frodo might have found them amusing but Sam would have been completely against them. Merry only wore them here at home. He would never wear them out where others might see him in them. Pippin looked at the slippers and then looked down at his cold feet. “No, you don’t, Peregrin Took,” he told himself. “No proper hobbit would be caught in those things. Remember Daffy Duck Hardgrove. You don’t want to end up like that.”

He backed away from the bed a few steps but in spite of his resolve he was back over there in a few seconds picking up the strange foot coverings and feeling the warm wool in his hands. He looked around a bit furtively as if he thought someone might catch him and then he put one of the slippers on. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was standing there waiting for something dreadful to happen but it didn’t. After a minute he opened his eyes and looked at the slipper curiously. His foot was warm!

Merry spent a lovely week in Hobbiton with Frodo, Sam and Rose. He was concerned about Frodo’s health but his older cousin still seemed to be getting out some and although he was not his usual self there had been moments during the visit when things had seemed almost as they did before the Quest. Merry was glad to get back to Crickhollow. He had missed the little house. It was fast becoming home to him. He had even missed Pippin. He grinned. Maybe he’d tell him that. Maybe.

Merry eased into the entryway and pulled the door closed quietly. It was still very early in the morning and Pippin was likely to be in bed asleep. He didn’t want to disturb him. It was dark save the light of the fire and a lantern sitting on the desk but Merry could see Pippin stretched out on the sofa with a blanket over him. He guessed that his younger cousin had decided to take nap and had slept the night away next to the fire.

Merry walked quietly over to the desk and sat his rucksack down next to it. That was when he spotted the letter. Normally Merry didn’t read Pippin’s correspondence unless Pippin asked him to do so but a few of the words had caught his interest. He held the letter closer to the lantern light and peered at it.

How are you? I hope you are well and that Faramir is well also. Please give him my regards, will you? I wanted to ask a favor of you so I shall come to the point. I realize that this is rather an imposition but could you possible see your way clear to make another pair of those interesting slippers that you sent to Merry for Yule? The ones that you made him are a bit large. He likes them very much in spite of that so he would never write to you and tell you this. Merry is very close at times. I think he would be afraid of offending you and your knitting. As I have said, he likes the slippers but because they are slightly too large for him he has fallen several times. He insists on wearing them and so I thought that if you could see your way clear to send him a pair that was just a bit smaller he would be less likely to fall and hit his head on the table.

This will be our secret. If you can make some just like Merry’s and send them to me then I can sneak into his room and replace the too large ones with the ones that will fit him. He need never know about this letter. I hope I can count on you.

“Using your royal title as leverage now, Pip?” Merry whispered looking at the letter. He grinned. So the slippers are too large for me, are they? I wonder,” Merry murmured and placing the letter into his pocket, he crept over to where Pippin was sleeping. Sticking out from beneath the blanket were two slipper-clad feet. Merry smirked and turned away. Tomorrow he was going to enjoy teasing Pippin about this. Maybe he’d send Eowyn a letter of his own or perhaps….

Dear Pearl, Pimpernel, and Pervinca,
I have a bit of a problem with which I need some assistance. It seems that your younger brother has taken up the odd habit of wearing slippers. Slippers are knitted foot-coverings. I have enclosed what I think is a passable drawing of them as a sort of pattern. Don’t be too shocked. He isn’t ill but he has got it into his head that he likes having his feet covered in these strange knitted garments. Unfortunately, he recently lost the pair that he was wearing. He’s been dreadfully upset about it and as you all know, there is nothing worse than dealing with Pippin when he is agitated. I was hoping that one of you might be able to make a replacement pair using the drawing as a sort of pattern…

Frodo had just filled a plate with biscuits and cakes and was turning to head back to the parlour when he was confronted by a very determined looking Pippin. The nine-year-old was looking up at him with a very serious expression on his face. The child was clutching a large, stuffed, grey rabbit in his arms.

“I don’t think so,” Frodo said looking down at his plate. “No, I believe I’ve managed to get some of everything, Pippin.”

Pippin’s frown deepened. The child was most assuredly annoyed about something but Frodo wasn’t certain what. At that moment Merry joined them. He was munching on a biscuit and grinning pleasantly. “Got enough food, Cousin?” Merry asked looking at Frodo’s plate.

Pippin turned his attention on Merry now. “Merry, what did you get Errol for Yule?” the child asked hugging the big rabbit.

“What did I get Errol?” Merry looked surprised. He stared at the stuffed rabbit for a moment and then quickly shifted his attention to Frodo. “What did you get Errol, Frodo?” Merry said casually. Merry had always been able to think on his feet. You might catch Merry off guard for a minute or two but he nearly always recovered quickly.

This time Frodo was ready. He’d been through this last year and had not faired too well. Pippin had come up to him at the Yule party carrying that stuffed rabbit whose name was Errol and had asked that very question. Frodo had not got the rabbit anything at all and had spent the evening trying to explain his mistake to Pippin. He had decided then and there that he would not be in that position again. Smiling, Frodo handed his plate to Merry. “Hold that for a minute, will you, Merry?” Then he reached into his trouser pocket and removed a small package. “This is Errol’s gift.” He handed the package to a delighted Pippin and retrieved his plate from a dumbfounded Merry.

“Look, Errol,” Pippin said holding the package in front of the rabbit’s remarkably life-like eyes. “I told you Frodo wouldn’t forget two years in a row.”

“Close your mouth, Meriadoc or someone is likely to come by and stick a biscuit into it,” Frodo whispered, still smiling.

Pippin shook the small package for the rabbit and then looked at Frodo. “Errol says thank you,” Pippin said.

Merry, partly recovered, squinted at the package. “Did you get that for the rabbit or did you just happen to have something extra in case you ran into someone you forgot?”

“It’s for Errol,” Frodo said pointing to the tag on the package. “It says so on the card.”

“I know that!” Merry said looking annoyed. “But what did he get Frodo for Yule?”

“Merry,” Pippin said patiently. “Stuffed rabbits don’t have any money. Errol doesn’t give Yule gifts. He’s a stuffed rabbit.” Pippin sighed and gave Frodo a knowing look.

“If Errol doesn’t give gifts then how can you expect everyone else to give Errol gifts?” Merry objected.

“Not everyone,” Pippin said. “Just you and me and Frodo give Errol gifts.”

“If Errol didn’t get us anything then why should we give him anything?” Merry said determined to make his point.

“Because,” Pippin said. “You don’t give gifts just to get gifts. You give them because you feel good if you do. Papa says that even if other folks forget to give me something I’m supposed to feel good because I got them something. It’s the joy of giving.”

Merry sputtered and Frodo continued to smile. “You give Errol something for Yule because it makes you feel good and because you like him,” Pippin said. “Isn’t that right, Frodo?”

“It most certainly is, Pippin. I know I feel immense joy because I was able to give Errol a gift this year,” Frodo said. He did not say that he also felt very relieved not to be on the receiving end of Pippin’s disappointment like he had been last year. Taking a bite of one of the small cakes from his plate Frodo watched Merry struggle to collect himself.

“I think you’re using Errol to get extra gifts for yourself,” Merry said recovering again. “I think that you are taking advantage of us and of Errol.”

Frodo looked at the grey rabbit who now appeared to be frowning at Merry in a most unpleasant way. Frodo was certain that this must be a trick of the light but it made him shake his head as if to clear his vision.

“I am not!” Pippin said looking shocked. “I wouldn’t do that to Errol!” He hugged the rabbit tightly. “Whatever is in this present it’s for Errol and it will be something Errol likes. It is something Errol likes, isn’t it, Frodo?” Pippin looked at Frodo worriedly.

“I suppose he’ll like it,” Frodo said. “I don’t select gifts for many stuffed rabbits and so I may have been mistaken in my choice but I tried to get something that I thought Errol might like. Why don’t you open it for him and see if he likes it?”

“Alright,” Pippin agreed. He thrust Errol into Merry’s arms. “I need both hands to open the package. Hold Errol so he can see what Frodo’s given him, Merry.”

“Why do I have to hold the rabbit?” Merry demanded as a couple of lasses walked by the table of food and pointed at Merry. Both of them giggled and walked away quickly. Merry blushed. “Don’t take all day, Pippin.”

“I don’t want to spoil the wrapping,” Pippin said as he carefully opened the package. “Pearl says if you open gifts slowly you can use the pretty paper again.”

Pippin grinned and held up the item that had been in the package. “Errol loves this!”

Merry looked at the small brush in Pippin’s hands and then at Frodo. “You got the rabbit a brush?”

“I thought Errol might enjoy looking his best for important occasions,” Frodo said.

“He will!” Pippin said smiling. “Look, Errol.” He pulled the rabbit from Merry’s arms and began to run the brush through its fur.

“No he didn’t!” Pippin said. “He knows I don’t like to brush my hair. He’d never give me a brush, would you, Frodo?”

“Not the longest day that I live, Pippin,” Frodo said enjoying Merry’s annoyance.

At that moment, Bilbo passed. He patted Pippin on the head and said, “Errol is looking very dapper today.”

Merry was livid now. “He knew what you bought the rabbit,” Merry hissed at Frodo.

“I don’t think I mentioned it to him but I suppose I might have,” Frodo shrugged.

Exasperated, Merry looked around the kitchen and then hurried over to the pantry, opened it and went inside.

“I don’t know,” Frodo said truthfully. He and Pippin waited. Inside the pantry Merry could be heard rummaging around and muttering to himself.

Merry returned carrying a jar of raspberry jam, which he thrust into Pippin’s hands. “Happy Yule, Errol,” Merry said tightly.

“It’s the thought that counts,” Merry said. “Besides, it takes you all day long to open a gift and I didn’t want Errol to be in suspense for all of that time.”

“I hid it in here,” Merry said frustrated with all of the questions. “You keep this up and you’ll take all of the joy out of my gift, Pippin.”

“Errol does like jam doesn’t he? I’ve seen him with it in his fur many times so he must like it,” Merry said. “You do, don’t you, Errol?”

For some reason the rabbit looked amused to Frodo. Perhaps he shouldn’t have any more of the mulled wine this evening or maybe it was the way Pippin was holding the thing. The child treated the rabbit as if it were alive and Frodo supposed that was colouring his own view of it. There was also the fact that Merry was leaning over and looking the bunny in the eye as he spoke.

“Errol says thank you for the jam, Merry,” Pippin said politely. “He likes it very much and he and I are sorry we didn’t think you’d got him anything.”

“I accept your apologies,” Merry said and he walked off leaving Frodo and Pippin staring after him.

“Don’t tell Merry, Frodo, but Errol doesn’t really eat jam,” Pippin said in a low voice.

“Stuffed rabbits don’t eat, Frodo,” Pippin said patiently. “I just sometimes get jam on Errol when I’m eating it.”

“Well, it’s an honest mistake, Pippin,” Frodo said. “Since Errol does sometimes have jam in his fur, it’s only reasonable that Merry might think Errol liked jam.”

Pippin nodded. “Errol doesn’t like jam at all. He hates it when I get him all sticky with it. That’s why he likes this brush that you got him. Errol likes to be neat. I like jam.”

“You could always eat the jam yourself,” Frodo suggested. “Merry wouldn’t have to know.”

“I could and I could tell him that Errol ate it and then me and Errol wouldn’t hurt Merry’s feelings,” Pippin smiled looking hungrily at the jam.

“You aren’t angry with Merry for not getting something that Errol likes are you?” Frodo asked.

“No, it really is the thought that counts,” Pippin said happily. “Merry just needs to think better.”

"All right, on your feet," Saradoc Brandybuck ordered. He tossed a coat and scarf onto the prone figure of his nephew, Pippin, who was resting on the sofa. As Pippin groaned, Saradoc dropped another coat into his son Merry's lap, effectively covering the book that Merry had been reading.

"Doc, where are we going?" Merry frowned. "It's early yet. We haven't even had second breakfast."

"Time's wasting, Merry-lad," Saradoc smiled. "Now, put that coat on and get ready for a bit of labour. We've things to do. If all goes well, the three of us should be back here in time for second breakfast."

"Should be?" Pippin objected. "What if we aren't? What is important enough for us to risk missing second breakfast? Aunt Esme is making ham."

"Get up you lazy Took," Saradoc said. "You'll get fed. You've yet to go hungry underneath my roof. Now, hop to, both of you."

Merry stood and began putting on his coat. "Better get up, Pip. Once he's made up his mind there's no arguing with him."

"The two of you are turning into slugs," Saradoc sighed. "I've seen stones that move faster than you do. Come on, Peregrin. You're far too young to be so slow."

Pippin stood reluctantly. "Where are we going?" he asked as he pulled on his coat and wound his scarf about his neck.

"We are going over to old Mr. Pinebanks' farm," Saradoc smiled. "We've a tradition to see to, lads."

"You have a tradition that puts you in a muddy farm, on a very cold morning, before second breakfast?" Pippin grumbled, looking at Merry.

"Time for what?" Pippin asked, as he followed the two Brandybucks out into the crisp morning air. "What sort of tradition is this?"

"This, my lad, is a long-standing tradition of great importance," Saradoc said, his breath making tiny puffs of white in the cold air as he spoke. "We are representing the Hall this morning and so I'll be counting on both of you to make the best selection that you can. The success of our Yuletide festivities depends upon it."

"Merry, what are we doing?" Pippin demanded. It was becoming obvious to him that his uncle was going to drag out the explanation as long as possible and Pippin's impatient nature was getting the best of him. "What is so important?"

Merry, who had looked very enthusiastic, now looked lost in thought and did not answer. It wasn't like Merry not to answer. He might not explain, but Merry always responded in some way.

Saradoc had begun to sing “Winter Warmth”, a favourite Yule song, and when Merry continued his silence, Pippin allowed himself to be caught up in the tune and joined his uncle for the second verse. He found that he wasn't as cold if he was singing. Saradoc had a strong, deep voice and Pippin's higher tenor formed a nice harmony. The song was one of Pippin's special favourites for this time of the year.

When dawn is sharp and the Moon grows thin
And Winterfilth has done its worst,
When days grow short and nights draw in,
They swell our hunger and our thirst!

When we go to bed by candlelight,
And waken to the pale red Sun,
We'll stoke our hearth fires big and bright
For the Yuletide Fest has just begun!

When we haul the Yule log and red holly,
From the Forest to our home
Our Yuletide will be bright and jolly
Our pies will rise and our ale will foam!

When the Yuletide Dragon* flaps his wings,
Sending snow from the mountains high above,
Little ones wait for the toys he brings,
The sweets and treats that they all love!

When the North Wind blows and howls outside,
We'll wrap up tight and stay within,
We'll sing songs and tell our tales beside
The warm fires of our kith and kin!

Merry remained quiet and followed along behind the two songsters. His mind was on other things.

They had just come to the end of the song when Saradoc pointed to a large stand of fir trees. He clapped Pippin on the shoulder and said, "It's time to get this event going. I'll be counting on you lads to direct me to the largest, best shaped tree in the grove." He looked back at Merry. "You know that your mother will accept nothing less than perfection when it comes to her Yule decorations, Merry, so don't point out any that aren't worthy."

"Worthy of what?" Pippin asked. He had already guessed the answer, remembering the magnificent fir tree that always stood as the centrepiece of the Hall's ballroom at Yule, but was suddenly suspecting the reason for Merry's downcast demeanour.

"Worthy of the axe of course," Saradoc said and with that he walked over towards a small fire set in a clearing amid the trees. An older hobbit and two younger ones were gathered about the blaze keeping warm.

"The axe?" Pippin winced, looking at Merry as the two of them followed Saradoc to the little campfire.

"It's time to select a Yule tree for the Hall," Merry said tonelessly, confirming Pippin's suspicions. "Every year I come with Doc and we get first choice of the trees."

"Well, if it isn't the Master of the Hall hisself!" the old hobbit grinned. "Lads, mind your manners," he continued as he nudged his nearest son with a toe and pointed to Saradoc, Merry and Pippin. "We've customers. On your feet and have your axes ready!"

The two lads stood, each holding onto well-sharpened axes and waiting for their father to give them further instructions. "You're here to claim a tree, aren't you?" the old hobbit asked.

"We most certainly are," Saradoc grinned pleasantly. "I wouldn't dream of trying to celebrate Yule without one of your fir trees, Mr. Pinebanks. You grow the finest Yule trees in all the Shire."

Mr. Pinebanks swelled with pride at these words and then waved an arm in the direction of the trees. "Well, I've not got near as many as I normally have on account of them damnable ruffians, but the ones I've got are all healthy and full. You'll have your pick of them. The lads haven't had any chopping to do as of yet. Today's our first day of selling, don't you know."

"I'd heard that," Saradoc said. "The Mistress of the Hall is very keen to get our tree early this year."

"Good thinking," Mr. Pinebanks said, smiling at Saradoc. "Once the word gets out that I'm selling, then all of Buckland will be here. As you know, I always give you first pick of the trees, Mr. Brandybuck. I talked to your missus yesterday and told her we'd like to start selling them today so she'd know to have you come and select yours."

"And I'm grateful to you," Saradoc smiled. "It just wouldn't be Yule without one of your fine trees."

Mr. Pinebanks grinned. "We always do what we can for the Master of the Hall and his family, don't we lads?"

"Well then, let's get busy selecting one," Saradoc said. "I'll look around over here and you two look on the other side of the grove, Merry. Then we can meet back here and discuss it all. We don't want to be hasty about this. We need to consider it very carefully and pick just the right tree for the Hall."

Pippin watched Saradoc amble off into a grouping of trees and then he tugged at Merry's sleeve. "Did you hear what he just said, Merry? He said 'don't be hasty'. Merry, Treebeard always said that!"

From somewhere in the distance, Saradoc called out, "You lads split up too. It'll make the selection go faster."

"I thought we weren't supposed to be hasty," Pippin shouted and he looked at Merry. "What are we going to do?"

"Go that way, Pip," Merry sighed. "The sooner we get this over with the better." He trudged off with his shoulders sagging under the weight of what they were about to do.

"Go on, follow them and see if you can steer them towards the more pricey ones," Mr. Pinebanks whispered to his sons. With that, the two lads hurried off after Pippin and Merry, axes at the ready. Satisfied that everything was in order, Mr. Pinebanks sat back down next to the fire and pulled an apple out of his pocket to enjoy while he waited.

"This one is splendid," Pippin said sadly, leaning his head back and looking up at a very tall pine tree. "Lots of full branches and it has a perfect shape."

Pippin had not seen the young hobbit come up behind him and he was startled. "What?"

"If this is the one you want, then I'll be happy to start cutting it down," the lad offered.

Pippin looked at the axe as if seeing it for the first time. "Cutting it down?" he said slowly. He looked up at the very big tree.

"I'll make it a nice clean cut down at the bottom and then I'll cut off the lower branches so you can have room to put the presents around it," the lad said. "I'm the better chopper. My brother is just learning this year. Last year he was too young to be swinging an axe but I've been at it for three seasons. I've cut down more than my share of trees. I know just how to fell them."

Pippin swallowed hard, his eyes going to the axe. "You do?" For a moment he thought of Gimli using his axe in battle but his mind quickly returned to the trees. Gimli had used his axe to fell Orcs, not lovely trees.

"I certainly do," the lad grinned. "My father always says that no one can swing an axe like, Hal. That's me. I'm Hal. My brother is Bo. But I'm the one you'll want to do the job."

Pippin looked at the tree. He reached out and ran a hand over the needles on the lowest branch.

"That branch'll have to come off but it won't be any trouble," Hal said knowingly. "Sometimes the lower branches have to go in order to make the tree ready to take home. I have the axe all nice and sharp. Won't take no time at all."

"I don't suppose it will," Pippin murmured. He looked up at the tree and then began to walk around it. Hal followed anxiously.

"If you don't want this one, there's a nice, big one over there," Hal offered pointing to another tree just a few feet away. His father had told him to steer the buyers to the more expensive trees and the one in the centre of the grove was very pricey indeed. His father would be very pleased with him if he sold that one. "It's wider in the trunk and a bit older but I can still have it down in no time. I can have any of them down that you want in the blink of an eye. Even haul it to the Hall if you want. Of course if I do that, then I suspect you'll want to be giving me a bit extra for my trouble but I'll do a good job for you." Hal always thought it wise to mention the idea of a tip when possible. Some folks, no matter how good-hearted, forgot those things if you didn't remind them.

Meanwhile, Merry was wandering around aimlessly in another grouping of trees feeling sick to his stomach. Bo, having caught up with him, was following close on his heels with his axe cradled in his arms like a much-loved child.

"How many trees are there in this grove?" Merry asked, placing a hand on the trunk of a large pine.

"This year we had fifty big enough to chop down and make proper Yule trees from," Bo said. "But Hal felled two of the trees early in the year for firewood. If you've a good axe then you can fell any tree you've a mind to and Hal's one of the best."

Merry shivered and reached out to touch another of the trees. "How much for the lot of them?" he asked.

"All of them?" Bo asked, looking stunned. He knew he was a fair hand at the chopping but he'd never thought himself good enough at the selling to manage to move the entire wood in one go.

"Just say that I wanted to buy every single tree in this grove," Merry said. "What would that cost?"

"I'm not too good at my figures. That would be more my father's talent. He could tell you in a flash," Bo said. "Still, I do know it's a pretty penny. Most folks wouldn't have that sort of coin for just trees."

"What if I have the coin?" Merry said. "Would your father be willing to sell me the trees?"

"Well, sir," Bo began thinking as he went. "It'd get him out of the cold. He'd not have to sit here day and night till they was all sold so he'd like that but I don't know if he's willing to sell all of his trees to one buyer. It's never happened before. One year, your mother took five. She bought for some folks that couldn't afford any I think and so that was nice, but no one's ever took the lot. I'd remember that."

When they returned to the little campfire and Merry told his father about his offer, Saradoc stared for a moment and then shouted, "Are you mad? No, don't answer that. Of course you are. You'd have to be barking mad to suggest that we buy an entire grove of trees."

"You didn't think at all or you couldn't possibly have decided to offer to buy all of these trees!" Saradoc objected, spinning in a circle with his hands waving about. "Merry, there must be fifty trees in all."

"There were fifty, but Merry told me that two are already gone for firewood. We were too late for those trees," Pippin said, looking sad.

"Thank goodness for that," Saradoc said. He sighed, walked in a circle, and then he turned to face Merry again. "Son, if you are having trouble choosing one, let Pippin do it or I'll do it. No one puts fifty trees up for Yule!”

Saradoc ignored this and spoke to Merry again. “This is going to be a Yule decoration, Merry."

"Uncle Doc, look at them! They aren't just Yule decorations," Pippin objected. "They're all so magnificent and so beautiful."

"If both you lads are having trouble selecting one then I'll do it," Saradoc said. "I promise to pick out something that will do us proud." He pointed to one. "There! That one looks like it would be lovely. We could have them cut that one down and..."

"No!" Pippin shouted. "No, I don't want them to cut it down. I don't want them to cut any of them down." He hurried over and stepped in front of it as if he might have to shield it with his body.

"Pippin, what's got into you?" Saradoc demanded. "The next thing I know I'll be watching you pick imaginary flowers. First Merry wants to buy them all and now you're objecting to buying any of them."

"I don't think we should cut any of them," Pippin said quietly. "It isn't right."

"You don't like any of these trees?" Saradoc looked stunned. He turned his attention to Merry. "Merry, can you please explain what is going on here? Why doesn't Pippin like any of these trees?"

"You can't have all of them," Saradoc sighed. "Merry, surely you and Pippin weren't serious about buying all of these trees."

"Well, one of you best make up your mind which ones you do want," Hal said, looking confused. He looked over at his brother Bo and shrugged as if to say, sometimes the gentry are a might cracked. Bo didn't know much about that sort of thing but Hal had seen it before. "There's other folks what will want to buy one. Soon as you decide which one you want me to take my axe to, then I've got to get busy chopping down another one for the next buyer."

Pippin looked over and saw a couple of hobbits standing there talking to Mr. Pinebanks. "Merry, we can't let him do that. Look! Mr. Pinebanks is already working on selling off some of the trees," Pippin said quickly. "It isn't right."

"Pippin, everyone has a right to have a Yule tree," Saradoc interrupted impatiently. "Now, we need to get on with this. I will pick one."

"But what if they're like Treebeard, Merry? What if some of these are the Entwives or Ents or about to be Ents? Merry, what if these trees are alive?" Pippin objected quickly.

Hal and Bo exchanged confused looks. "I don't know what Ents are but of course these trees are alive. They're growing things," Bo said.

"Pippin, these are just trees," Saradoc said looking around, but a trace of doubt seemed to be making its way into his eyes. "These trees aren't like the ones that you and Merry saw on your journey."

"How do you know?" Merry asked, placing a hand on his father's arm. "Here we stand just yards away from the Old Forest, Doc, and you know all about *those* trees."

Hal backed up a step. "I'll cut any of these down you want, but I'm not going into the Old Forest," he said with a shiver. "You don't have that much coin to make me go in there. Those trees are dangerous. It'd be a foolish hobbit that would take an axe to any of them and my father didn't raise any fools."

Pippin and Merry locked eyes for a minute and then Merry reached out and touched one of the trees. "I don't know if these trees are awake or not," he said softly. "But now that we know what we do, how can we take that chance?"

"Treebeard protected all the trees in the forest," Pippin said. "Even the ones that didn't seem lively. He was very angry when any of the trees were cut down. If any of these trees are at all like those that are in the Old Forest..."

"Oh, these aren't," Hal said quickly. "These are just plain old trees. You don't have to be afraid of these trees." He looked over at Saradoc for confirmation.

"Trust me on this," Merry said quietly, looking over at his father. "We just can't do this.

"But what do you plan to do then?" Saradoc asked. "What's your solution? Not everyone in Buckland will see things your way, Merry. In fact most of Buckland isn't likely to believe what you saw even if you sat them all down and explained it. Some days I have trouble with it and if you weren't my son, I don't know if I'd be able to believe it at all. A story like that takes a great deal of faith on the part of the listener."

"Very well," Saradoc sighed. "But you and Pippin will be explaining this to your mother."

"Excuse me a minute, folks," Mr. Pinebanks said to the two hobbits that he had been talking with before the Master’s party returned. “Let me get this straight, Mr. Merry. You want to buy all my trees but you don't want to chop any of them down?"

"But these are Yule trees and most folks like to decorate them during Yule," Bo objected breaking in. He'd had nothing much to say at all up to this point and now felt that he should have his views heard. The two waiting hobbits nodded at Bo’s words but didn’t comment.

"We... we... we'll decorate them right here!" Merry said, suddenly. Mr. Pinebanks might not know the look in Merry's eyes but Pippin knew it well. Merry was getting an idea.

"What?" Mr. Pinebanks looked even more confused. He glanced over at the Master of the Hall hoping that he might be able to clear this up but Saradoc just spread his hands and said nothing.

"It will be like a display," Merry said, thinking as he went. "We'll leave them standing and we'll decorate every single tree in this wood. In fact, we'll get anyone that wants to help to come along and we'll have a tree-decorating party!"

"It will be like harvest fest or the Midsummer fair, only a Yuletide gathering!" Pippin said grinning. He marvelled anew at Merry's ability to think on his feet. Merry always did have the grandest ideas.

Even Saradoc was starting to see the value of this plan. "That just might work," he said.

“I like it, Mr. Brandybuck, sir,” the other of the two potential buyers agreed. “It would be quite a sight.”

"It would indeed," Merry said. "Buckland will have a magnificent display of decorated Yule trees for everyone to enjoy. In fact, we can let businesses from Bucklebury decorate a tree each and then we can put signs in front of them. Decorated by 'Ob's Feed and Grain' or decorated by 'The Brandybuck Family' or something like that."

"Folks would have to pay then?" Mr. Pinebanks frowned. He was seeing a good chance here. As he had already sold all of these trees to the Master's son, perhaps he could even make some extra coin by charging folk to decorate them too!

"No, they'd just have to provide their own decorations," Pippin said hoping this was what Merry had in mind. "Then there would be a grand sign at the edge of the grove saying, 'All trees raised and tended by the Pinebanks Family.' Everyone would know that you and your sons had raised these wonderful trees."

The listening hobbits smiled in approval and one of them clapped Bo on the back. "That’d be a very notable distinction to have in the township," he said to Bo.

"Anyone and everyone that joined in with the idea," Merry said. "And Pippin and I will pay you for all the trees just as if we were taking them home."

"Only we won't and they will still be right here," Pippin said quickly. "You won't be losing a thing in the deal."

Pippin looked alarmed but this time it was Saradoc who spoke up. He smiled and said, "Or, if this idea of a Bucklebury decorated grove catches on then we'll buy them again next year. It will be a guaranteed income for your family. Every year you sell us the same trees."

Mr. Pinebanks looked confused. "You pay for them again next year?" The Master had always seemed like such a shrewd hobbit when it came to business but Mr. Pinebanks could not see how Saradoc could be turning any profit on this idea. Who, in their right mind, would continue to pay for the same trees over and over again?

"Every year from now on as long as you don't cut any of them down," Pippin said.

"Isn't that a bit foolish?" Mr. Pinebanks frowned. He'd not have said this to the Master, but he felt he could say it to a Took.

"Why do you care? You'll be assured of money every year at Yule without so much as raising a finger save to tend these trees through the year and keep them healthy and green and ready for decorating."

Mr. Pinebanks shook his head. "You know that you're getting a poor deal here, don't you, Master Saradoc?"

"Oh, I don't know," Saradoc smiled. "This may turn out to be something wonderful for the whole of Buckland."

"I’d like to decorate one if you’re making a list or anything," one of the hobbits who had come to purchase a tree said. "My name’s Andy, Andy Chubb. Me and my family would like a tree."

"It saves them," Pippin objected. "It saves them so they can continue to be beautiful right here in this grove just the way they were planted." He smiled and looked up at the trees.

"It does indeed," Merry agreed, and then he said softly so that only Pippin could hear, "I think Treebeard would approve."

“Excuse me, but if you all plan on doing this, I want one too. My name is Brockhouse. Put me down for a tree near the front."

Saradoc smiled at Mr. Pinebanks. "If we’re all agreed on this, I think we need to start making a list. It looks as if two of the trees in the Buckland Grove have been claimed for this year."

"Hal, put down that axe," Mr. Pinebanks ordered. "Bo, go and get me something to write on. Me and the Master here have to get these trees all spoken for proper-like."

Saradoc and Merry stood at the edge of the grove and looked out at the decorations adorning the trees. "I have to give you credit, Merry," Saradoc said proudly. "Everyone in town is talking about this. They love the Yule Grove, as they are now calling it."

Merry smiled. "I did have more than a little help with the idea, you know." He looked over to where Pippin was leading a group of hobbit children through the trees, pointing out the special decorations as he went.

"You and I both know that your partner in crime had a hand in this, but Mr. Pinebanks is telling anyone that will listen that he and the Master's son came up with it," Saradoc said. "The old gent is as proud as a peacock at his part in it all. The more folks that comment on it, the bigger his head swells. I don't think Pippin is getting much of the credit here."

"He doesn't mind," Merry said. "Pippin is happy with the results. Between you and me, this worked out exactly the way Pippin wanted it to."

"And between you and Pippin, you managed to convince your mother that she didn't need a Yule tree in the Hall in order to throw a proper celebration," Saradoc grinned. "That was a small miracle right there."

"But I did enjoy listening to the two of you try to convince her," Saradoc said. "I knew Pippin was a fast talker but I had no idea how fast."

"Well, your mother is already planning decorations for 'our' tree in the grove next year," Saradoc laughed. "She's completely won over by the idea now, especially after seeing this lovely grove decorated so beautifully."

"How'd you folks come up with this idea?" Tag Whitfoot, the youngest and most ambitious of Will Whitfoot’s three sons, asked hurrying over to them. "I'm thinking of doing this very thing in Michel Delving next year. The whole Shire is talking about the Yule Grove in Buckland. My older brother says that this is good for local shops and good for Yule celebrations."

"It has brought quite a few folks to Buckland that don't usually pass this way at this time of year," Saradoc mused. "Shop owners and the Inns have been kept busy with all the visitors. I can't say that I know how word got out about it so quickly but everyone wants a peek at our trees."

"It's good business," Tag said. "After all the hard times we've had here in the Shire this sort of thing just gives folks a smile. It's full of festive cheer. I only wish my Father were feeling up to travelling here for a look. I know the sight would cheer him. Why didn't you put the Yule lights** around the grove?"

"Well, we don't want to burn our festive cheer to the ground now do we?" Saradoc grinned. "The Yule lights are still a very important tradition here in Buckland but everyone does those at their homes. I think it best not to light little candles in bags so near to a forest, don't you?"

"No, too many folks tramping in and out of the trees. There'd be too much chance of a fire starting," Saradoc said. "We'll stick with decorations of a less dangerous sort in *our* Yule Grove." He winked at Merry. “Tell your father we hope to do this again next year and he’s to concentrate on building up his strength so he can join us.”

“I’ll do that, sir,” Tag said, his voice filling with emotion. Will Whitfoot, the Mayor of the Shire, was still recovering from the ill treatment received during his imprisonment in the Lock Holes by the ruffians and in the meantime Frodo was acting as his Deputy.

"I'm going to go over and see how Pippin is faring," Merry said, patting Tag on the shoulder as he took his leave of them. He walked over and found Pippin standing with Sam at the edge of the grove.

"I think it's right fine that you didn't cut down the trees this year," Sam smiled as Merry joined them. "We lost so many trees during the time of the ruffians. Why, when I think of Mr Bilbo's Party Tree, it still breaks my heart."

"Yes, this little wood seems to have inspired folks," Merry nodded, placing an arm around Sam who was wiping a tear from his eye. The loss of the Party Tree still made Sam cry. "I hear that other folks are thinking of doing this very same thing next year."

"They are indeed and I think that they should know about your part in it all," Merry said. "Mr. Pinebanks and I seem to be getting all the credit. You had a hand in this too."

Pippin smiled. "I like it better this way, Merry. Let Mr. Pinebanks take credit and you take credit for organizing it all. I just wanted the trees to be saved."

"It was just something that my father said," Merry sighed. "He said we shouldn't be hasty in picking out a tree."

"That was one of Treebeard's sayings, 'Don't be hasty'," Pippin put in. "But I think Merry was already thinking about Treebeard before we got here."

"I suppose I was," Merry said. "I used to love selecting a tree and taking it home for Yule. It was part of the family tradition, but after seeing all that we did on the Quest and meeting Treebeard, our family tradition just didn't appeal to me anymore."

"Well, however it happened, it was the right thing to do," Sam said, looking pleased.

"These trees are lovely," Frodo said, coming over to join them. "They give me hope for all of the Yules to come. May there always be trees in this wood and in all of the Shire." His eyes were bright with an inner joy that was so often missing since the Quest. Upon seeing this, Merry knew that, as usual, Sam Gamgee was right. However it had come to pass, it was the right thing to do.

*The Yule Dragon, Thluggul, who is mentioned in “Winter Warmth” is an original character created by Llinos. He can be found in her story, “A Partnership in Villainy”.

**The Yule lights, which are based on the luminaries that folks sometimes use for decorations, come from a Waymeet Challenge story that I wrote called, “When in Buckland”

“Where there's smoke...”
Beta by Llinos and Marigold
This was written for 'PIppinfan1988' for Yule

"Are you out of your mind?" Merry demanded. He looked down at the corner of the once lovely wooden table that was now blackened with scorch marks.

Merry managed to pull his eyes away from the table long enough to look at his wife. "Be quiet?" he said in disbelief. "I come rushing into the parlour on the eve of First Yule to find my wife setting fire to one of our tables and your main concern here is that I keep quiet?"

"Pippin? I'll wake Pippin? You're afraid that I might disturb Pippin's sleep?" Merry blinked. "If you'd have managed to get your table fire going completely I'd have had to wake Pippin, because I would have needed to get him out of the house before you burned it to the ground." Merry ran a hand through his hair and began to pace. "I go to bed for the evening, my lovely bride beside me and I wake up to the smell of burning wood and lamp oil. I rush into the parlour and there I find said lovely bride roasting the table which sits beside my favourite chair." Merry ran his hand through his hair again, this time leaving it standing on end and then turned to look at Estella. "Was it something I did? Do you not like this table? Or were you just starting a signal fire of some kind?"

"I really can explain, Merry, but you need to sit down and try to keep your voice at a whisper," Estella said softly. "I'll explain it to you, but I don't want Pippin to hear any of this. It would upset him."

Looking utterly confused, Merry sank into his favourite chair next to the damaged little corner table. "Well, we certainly don't want to upset Pippin, do we?" He looked at the ceiling and said, "My wife has gone mad during the night but I can be grateful that in spite of her madness, she's still very thoughtful when it comes to the feelings of my cousin."

"Stop being so dramatic," Estella said very quietly. "There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this."

"Three," Merry nodded. "I'm still asleep and this is a very odd dream. I've gone mad and am imagining that you're trying to cook us all in our sleep. You've gone mad but you are too far round the bend to realize it, so you're arguing the point with me. That's three. I think that's more reasons than anyone else might have been able to come up with when faced with this set of circumstances at three in the morning."

"You always were an uncommonly clever hobbit, dearest," Estella said in her best soothing voice.

"Flattery is not going to soften my mood, Estella," Merry said. "Don't stand there thinking you can set things ablaze and then settle my nerves with a few kind words of praise for my reasoning skills."

"I'm starting to dislike your tone, Meriadoc Brandybuck," Estella said turning her back on him.

"You don't like my tone?" Merry frowned, but before he could build up to the huge list of things which he currently didn't like, he noticed what was in his wife's hands. She been holding the object behind her back all this time but he'd been too fixated upon the burnt table to notice. "Were you burning that too?"

She whirled around. "Of course I was, Merry," she whispered. "*That* was the whole point of this. I was trying to get rid of it." She thrust the object at him and dropped it into his lap. "This is the whole problem right here. This is dangerous and it has to be destroyed and I've found a way to do that."

"Well, yes, fire most certainly will destroy it," Merry said. "But you do know that the Shire is full of these things, don't you? There must be hundreds of them in the Great Smials alone. Estella, there are shops in Tuckborough that specialize in making these. A craftsman with the skill to turn a piece of wood into a proper one can name his price. Burning this one is not going to rid the Shire of them."

"I know that, Merry," Estella sighed. "I just want to get rid of this one and maybe plant an idea into the bargain." She reached over and ran her fingers through his hair in an attempt to straighten it. As she did so, he set the slightly charred item on the floor and pulled her into his lap. "You've mussed your hair," she whispered. "It makes you look like my mad Aunt Lily."

"Well, sometimes, when your home is on fire, you lose your composure," Merry said.

"The house was never on fire, Meriadoc," Estella scowled. "I was only using a tiny bit of lamp oil to make some scorch marks on the table. Then I was going to throw that thing into the fire and write a note. The note was really the part that I was concerned about."

"Yes, writing can be very dangerous," Merry sighed. "You weren't at all worried about playing with fire but you were concerned about writing a note?"

"Famous last words," Merry sighed. "Why must there always be a fire at Yule time?"

"Well, one year, I burned a little shed to the ground while trying to light the Yule Lights and another year Pippin set a large portion of our garden here at this very house on fire while trying to light the Yule Lights. Now, you've set a table on fire while attempting to burn up something which does not belong to you." Merry sighed and held her close. "Estella, when do you and Pippin plan to stop this sort of thing?"

"Picking at one another like a couple of faunts sharing a pram," Merry sighed. "I really thought it was going better between the two of you. You are my wife and he is my cousin. The three of us are sharing this house for the time being. Why can't you and Pippin at least be pleasant to one another?"

"You think I was trying to burn that because it belongs to Pippin and I was acting on some sort of nasty, spiteful, urge to upset him?" She looked stunned. "Surely you can't think that."

"Don't look at me as if I'm the one that was caught with a burning table," Merry objected.

Estella pulled back from his embrace but did not stand. "I was trying to burn that up to protect Pippin and to protect you into the bargain. In case you don't remember, that thing was the cause of considerable panic here just a fortnight ago."

"I remember," Merry whispered grimly. "I thought Pippin was going to lose a foot over it."

"Careful, Pip," Merry said watching nervously as Pippin pulled back on the bowstring and took aim.

"I have done this before a few times," Pippin said. "In case you don't recall, I had to take lessons."

Pippin lowered the bow and glared at Merry. "It was four, actually," Pippin replied tartly. "But since I *did* take lessons on four different occasions, I should think you'd trust me to shoot at a simple target behind the house."

"You had to take lessons four times because you never seemed able to master the thing," Merry said. "As I recall, you nearly shot Reggie in the forehead once."

"I did not!" Pippin objected. "I just shot over his head. It wasn't that close!"

"He says it parted his hair and he could feel the tip of the arrow graze the skin on the top of his head," Merry smiled.

"He just tells it that way to annoy me," Pippin said. "I wasn't even close to parting his hair. I wish he'd stop telling that!"

"It's a fine story over drinks," Merry grinned. "It always gets a laugh. Folks like it even more now that you're known to be a Knight of Gondor."

"All right, Meriadoc," Pippin said, letting the arrow drop to the grass and turning to face his cousin. "A great many of them do, but I didn't!"

"Let me have a try at that thing," Merry said, reaching for the bow. "If I manage to hit the target, you and I will go into Bucklebury and you will buy me an ale. If I miss, you get a turn and then I buy you an ale."

"It isn't as easy as it might look," Pippin warned, handing the bow to Merry. "You aren't exactly Legolas, you know."

"I know that very well," Merry smiled. "I have much nicer feet than Legolas. Now, show me how to hold it properly. You've had more than a few lessons. You ought to be able to show me the correct way to hold it."

"Fine," Pippin sighed. "But when you miss, I'm going to want two ales for my trouble, one for the lesson and one because you missed. Oh, and one to make me feel like finishing with the Yule wrapping."

"You still haven't wrapped your gifts yet?" Merry chuckled. "If you don't hurry, there won't be much point."

"Don't nag," Pippin said. "You sound like Estella. She's been after me to wrap them all week long."

"You're due to leave for Tuckborough in three days to spend Yule with your family," Merry said. "Estella just wants you to be ready."

"She's got Yule plans," Merry grinned, waggling his eyebrows in a wicked fashion. "In fact, she and I have a few plans for Yule. After all, it is our first Yule as husband and wife. I have a tree I'd like her to decorate."

Pippin rolled his eyes. "Just be careful she doesn't cut the poor, wee, sapling down."

Merry glared at him. "You just let me worry about my own, impressive Yule offering. Now, how do I shoot this thing? Put some of those many lessons to good use and tell me how to hit that target."

Merry held her close, trying to calm her nerves. "I don't know exactly. I'm still not entirely certain which one of us shot him. I was holding the bow and arrow and Pippin was standing beside me. He kept reaching over and taking my arm and showing me how to keep my elbow at the proper angle. He was showing me how to keep the bowstring taut and sight the arrow when it happened. We were both pulling back on the bowstring at the time but I had my finger curled around the arrow. We were sighting the target and all of a sudden, Pippin sneezed. I remember my arm going downwards and I let go of the string. I had my finger around the arrow too tightly and I felt the skin burn as the arrow shot from the bow and straight down towards the ground. The next thing I knew Pippin let out a yell and sat down on the grass. When I looked at him, he was as white as snow and the arrow was sticking through the top of his foot and into the ground."

"And you come in here and question why I'm trying to burn the thing?" Estella said in a shaky voice. "I watched you pull that arrow out of the earth, Merry. I thought Pippin was going to faint before you managed to get him into the parlour."

"Then you cut the end off the arrow and I went for the healer," Estella whispered so quietly that Merry was having difficulty hearing her. "I remember running and trying to distract myself with thoughts of how I might kill Pervinca's husband with my own hands when I saw him next."

"Merry, everyone in the Shire has heard Reggie Took tell that story about how Pippin nearly shot him. He had to know that the last thing he should be giving Pippin for Yule was a bow!"

"I think he borrowed Pippin's old bow and lost it somehow, so he thought this was a fitting gift," Merry said. "He brought it by and gave it to Pip when he was here discussing some business with my Father. I guess he thought Pippin might enjoy an early Yule gift.”

"And poor Pippin is spending Yule hobbling about on crutches here in Crickhollow instead of with his family because of his early gift," Estella muttered.

"The point is, dear one, I don't think burning Pippin's bow is going to change that," Merry smiled. "Happily, Pippin is going to be quite all right. His foot is healing remarkably well and Pippin has taken the entire incident in his stride. So to speak." Merry winced at his choice of words.

"All the same, if you'd have not caught me at it, I think I might have put an end to Pippin's efforts to become an archer."

"Thluggul? The Yule Dragon?" Merry looked confused. "Estella, Pippin can be a bit whimsical and rather naive at times, but I do believe he's outgrown believing in the Yule Dragon."

"Why Merry Brandybuck," Estella chided. "No one is completely certain that there isn't a Yule Dragon. It's true that Thluggul is considered to be a children's tale but many tales are based upon fact and now and again things happen in the Shire at Yule that folks can't explain. Many of those things are attributed to Thluggul by reasonable, right-minded, adult hobbits."

"It's true that there are a few rather strange and wonderful events in Shire history for which folks often gave credit to Thluggul, but most of those involve important things like baskets of food turning up at folks' doors when they're down to their very last penny or new milk cows appearing in barns as if by magic when farmers were wondering where milk for the little ones would come from, or the time that lost child returned home safely at Yule saying that Thluggul had flown her home on his back," Merry smiled. "Estella, I don't ever recall a Yule miracle involving Thluggul in which he nearly burned down a house."

"Merry, I scorched the table deliberately," Estella sighed. "I wanted Pippin to be the one that suspected that Thluggul had burned up the bow. I thought scorch marks on the table would make that idea come to him. I know that Thluggul doesn't normally leave behind evidence of that sort on his visits but I needed some way to put the notion into Pippin's head."

Merry was trying not to laugh. "So you planned to scorch the table and then burn the bow to a crisp and have Thluggul leave Pippin a note saying, 'Don't ever fire a bow again as long as you live?'"

"Well, now you see why I was worried about the note," Estella said in a very serious tone. "I'm not altogether certain what a real dragon might write or if they *can* write."

"I love you more with each passing minute of this," Merry smiled kissing her gently on the lips.

"For your child-like belief in the Yule Dragon and for your belief in dragons in general," Merry said. He kissed her again.

"Merry, really, I'm trying to explain what I was attempting to do here," Estella objected.

"Then just enjoy it. I noticed there's wassail left. We could warm that up later after I have finished showing you how much I love you and have a toast to our first Yule together as husband and wife." Merry smiled and he began kissing her again before she could raise any objections.

"I smell bacon," Merry murmured into Estella's neck. He shifted on the chair and felt his back complain loudly. "Stella, I think we've slept in the chair all night," he said, shifting her weight on his lap.

"I think we did," Merry grinned. "I think we sat here kissing and cuddling by the fire until we both fell asleep."

"Pippin!" Estella said, looking startled. She pulled herself up from Merry's lap and called, "Peregrin Took, if you're in that kitchen, you are in trouble!"

"Why?" Pippin asked, coming to the door, one crutch under his arm, his left foot still bandaged. Merry noticed that Pippin was already dressed, something that he hadn't done all week. That, Merry thought was a very good sign. Pippin was feeling well enough to be restless.

"You haven't been told you could be up cooking," Estella said, walking over to Pippin and glaring at him. "The healer said you were to go easy for at least another week."

"In spite of what you may have heard about me, Estella," Pippin smiled, "I don't cook with my feet."

"You aren't supposed to be standing on them long enough to cook," Estella said sternly. "You're supposed to use your crutches to go to the privy and to move from your bed to the sofa, nothing more difficult than that."

"I'm fine, honestly, Estella," Pippin said. "And if we stand about arguing, I'll burn the bacon. Be nice. It's Yule." He was leaning on the crutch and holding an empty saucepan in his hand.

"You were not," Estella said trying not to laugh. "You go and sit down and I'll finish breakfast. Go on."

"Give up on that," Merry suggested. "Even with two good feet, you fall short of useful on most days."

"Happy Yule to you too, Meriadoc," Pippin said and then he suddenly began to stare at the table. "What happened to that table? What did you do, leave your pipe lit all night?"

"No," Merry said, looking uncomfortably at the table. He'd almost forgotten about Estella's late-night dragon impression. "It's a funny thing about this table."

Pippin hobbled over and ran a hand over the wood. "It looks scorched and who drank all the wassail? I was in the kitchen making breakfast and thought I'd warm up a mug of it but the pot was empty. Looks rather like someone licked it clean."

"I didn't notice. I thought it was full last night," Merry frowned. "Estella, did we drink the wassail last night? I know we discussed it but I don't recall getting up and pouring any," Merry called.

"You did," Pippin said. "You can ask my sisters. I don't take directions well, especially at Yule. Too many exciting things going on to sit about taking directions."

Estella peered at the empty pot suspiciously. "Maybe we did drink it. I don't remember doing that but maybe we did."

"If you drank enough of it," Pippin said, lowering himself to the sofa, "Maybe that's why you don't recall."

"Prop your foot up," Estella said absently, still studying the pot. "If you hope to ride up to the Hall with us later, then you best rest that foot now."

Pippin scowled. "I was just rather curious. There's been some sort of fire in here and someone drank the wassail so I just thought I should know about it. I was looking forward to some of that wassail."

"It's Yule," Merry said, placing Pippin's foot on a cushion. "Maybe she's just a bit nervous. I think she wants it to go well."

"Judging from that table and the lack of wassail, it's too late to hope for that," Pippin said.

Merry snorted and rubbed his back. "And the backache I have from sleeping in the chair most of the night isn't going to make it a success either."

"At least you don't have a hole in your foot," Pippin grinned. "But I know what might help put us in the mood for Yule, Merry."

"True," Merry said. He took the biscuit tin down from the mantelpiece and popped the lid open and extended it to Pippin. "You first, Cousin."

"I didn't eat them," Merry objected peering into the empty tin. "We agreed to save this tin for First Yule. I put it on the mantelpiece myself and when I put it there, it was full of lovely biscuits."

"Some lasses can eat a whole tin of biscuits," Pippin said. "Or, maybe you've managed to get her in the family way and she's eating for two. I remember when Pearl was carrying her first one, we couldn't keep biscuits in the smial. She..."

"What, Merry?" Estella said. "I'm putting breakfast on the table. If you keep shouting and I have to keep coming back in here, it won't get done before luncheon."

"Did you, by any chance, eat the biscuits that were in the tin on the mantelpiece?"

"I did not!" Estella objected. "I couldn't possibly eat a whole tin of biscuits!"

"No," Merry said slowly. "Pippin, I think it might be your new bow, or what's left of it."

Pippin limped over to the fireplace and peered into the grate. "That's what it is all right, my bow. And there are biscuit crumbs all over the floor just here. Whoever ate the biscuits must have been rather messy."

"All things considered, Meriadoc, I think it might have been better all around if the silly thing had been chucked into the fireplace a couple of weeks ago, don't you?" Pippin said. "Which one of you burned it?"

"I don't mind either way," Pippin said. "I just wondered which of you did it. Come on. Confess. It's Yule. If you don't confess then Thluggul might decide to leave you a lump of charcoal."

"Fine," Pippin shrugged. "But I'm not sharing my gifts with either of you. Best be honest a'fore Thluggul gets word of your deceit."

"I was going to burn it but I didn't," Estella admitted. "I meant to but I didn't get to it before I fell asleep. At least I don't think I did. Merry, did one of us get up last night and put the bow into the fire?"

"Maybe it was Thluggul!" Pippin said with exaggerated surprise in his voice. "Maybe the Yule Dragon burned it to keep me from using it anymore. It's a sign! I wonder if there's a note from Thluggul that explains it all?" He looked about the room as he spoke.

"Not one of us, Estella my love," Merry said, looking over at Pippin who was grinning at him. "A certain eavesdropping Took did it. You heard us!"

"Peregrin Took," Estella said, frowning. "You were eavesdropping on a private conversation."

"At least I wasn't purposely setting fire to the furniture," Pippin said. Then he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"That was for attempting to pull off one of the most ridiculous stunts that it's ever been my pleasure to witness. Even *I* couldn't have come up with anything to rival it," Pippin said. "Merry, I think you should keep her just based on this. The lass has potential."

Estella glared at Pippin. "That, Peregrin Took, is the very last time I try to do anything to protect you from yourself!"

"I-I-I just knew how upset Merry would be if something happened to you, you insufferable Took!" Estella said. She sounded fierce enough but her eyes were giving her away as she turned and headed towards the kitchen. "I'm having breakfast. You two can stand about all morning if you like."

"Merry, I think I'll go into my room and take a nap before we go to the Hall," Pippin smiled. "Why don't you and your wee fire dragon of a wife eat breakfast without me. Pretend I'm not here. I was up all night and I'm a bit tired."

"The smell of roasting table-top brought me out of my bed," Pippin said. "I was watching your lovely lass put out the fire when you dashed to the rescue."

"No, I ate a bit as I was putting the bacon on," Pippin smiled as he hobbled from the room.

"Every single one of them," Pippin said. "Except the one I crumbled onto the floor to make it look as if a rather messy dragon had been eating them. And no, I'm not in the family way. I just like Yule biscuits."

"I was trying to do what I suspect Thluggul might do in that situation. He's a very large dragon, Merry, so naturally I felt that he would eat all the biscuits," Pippin explained.

"Thluggul was thirsty after so many biscuits, Merry," Pippin said, yawning. "Wake me when it's time to go up to the Hall. I want to see if Thluggul's left me anything special at your parents' smial. I've been very good this year."

*Thluggul, the Yule Dragon, is an original character created by Llinos and he is in this story, as well as my other Yule story for this year, with her permission.
He originally appeared in Llinos’ story, “A Partnership in Villainy”and she has also posted a wonderful new story for this year in which Thluggul is mentioned. That story is “A Yuletide Lesson”.Thluggul has been a very busy dragon this year!

In fact, he insisted that I write this story and if you’ve ever had a dragon breathing down your neck while you write, then you’ll know that I had little choice in the matter. Dragon’s, even the sort that leave Yule presents for good children, have extremely hot breath. I was very glad that Llinos allowed me to borrow him. If she hadn’t, I might have wound up in worse shape than Merry’s table.

Thank you for reading and Happy New Year to both of you! (I’m assuming that at least two people will read this. If there are more of you, then Happy New Year to you as well.)

Yule Fictions Past and Present by Grey Wonderer