Gloín sat back with an easy laugh. He had left a group of young dwarves in the hands of his son Gimli, decorating the Grand Hall in preparation for the Mid-Winter celebration. Small, colored cut gems twinkled discretely from the mantle and sides of the large hearth, ready to sparkle as if on fire themselves when a fire was lit. Gilded adornments shone from the walls. The table glowed with sculptures created for this occasion.

He had soon returned to find instead twenty-four dwarves dancing, as the rest watched gleefully. Well, was this not a time to be grateful for one's gifts? Gloín had an admirable son, who was at this moment attempting to demonstrate skill in an elaborate dance. Ah, well, he was better at leading a group into battle than in following intricate steps to music. Gloín would be grateful for that.

Oh, this time Father was really trying to outdo himself! Every year, for the celebration of Longest Night, his father insisted on having the most elaborate festivities in town. Last year, there was more food than one could eat and the musicians played until sunrise.

Sahar looked forward to the two dozen dancers Father had hired this year as well as the cooks from the northlands providing exotic foods no one had ever seen. But he could not be enthusiastic about the task his father had given him. One of these obstinate beasts was bad enough! Twenty-three oliphaunts were going to drive him mad before the party began!

"It – it was Darlon's idea!" The sheepish ranger eagerly pointed a finger in Darlon's direction.

Halbarad aimed his glare at the new focus of attention. Darlon raised his eyebrows, then said, "No! It was Erel's!"

Halbarad watched as each ranger passed the blame for the homely touch of Yule treats in his pack and the sprigs of evergreen around the fire tonight. Did they think him lonely? Whosever idea this was would hear what he thought of that – but each ranger continued to pass the blame as shamefully as children. Finally, Aragorn held the blame of the entire company. All looked to him for his response.

"Actually, Halbarad, it was – your wife who put me up to it." Aragorn smiled, although he, like the other 21 rangers, were as red as beets.

"Out! Out!" The twentieth orc ran out of the Main Hall of Barad-dûr. Sauron let out a howl of frustration. He had just had it! Up to …well, his neck, if he had had one. What was it about orcs that they couldn't hang icicle lights properly? And just look at how the tree tilted! All the ornaments and candles were hanging to one side. Oh, but they were an ornery lot. Ah! He knew if you wanted a job done right you had to do it yourself. But there was still that pesky problem of incorporeality. Nevertheless, he had a right to proper decorations for the holidays, just as much as anyone else. He worked hard all year to be the best Dark Lord he could be. If he was to succeed in getting all of Middle-earth to bow in subjugation before him, he was going to have to start this new year right. But for now, he would focus on getting this greenery and lights properly hung up. Then there was all that wrapping to be done… Ah, well, best to try again.

And Sauron called in the twenty-first orc to hang his Yuletide decorations for him just to his liking.

"I have a gift for you, Father. For the Year End celebration." Legolas felt a bit silly all of a sudden. Not two nights ago, his company had chased a large herd of wargs far south. Legolas killed nineteen wargs that night. In a sudden urge, he took from each a tooth and later linked them into a chain. He decided to present his father with it, as a symbol of his dedication to freeing their realm from the Darkness. But now he thought, what if the King merely saw them as teeth?

King Thranduil looked at the teeth hanging from a simple cord. He smiled slowly. "From the battle the other night, yes? Thank you, Legolas. I shall wear it tomorrow night at the celebration." Relieved, Legolas smiled his thanks then and left his father's office.

Thranduil looked at the necklace thoughtfully. "A child of Mirkwood indeed."

I am a warrior. I fight because it is my duty, because of my love for Middle-earth, and for the people I have grown to love.

Now you say I must choose among those loves. If the honorable choice is to save Gondor, then I lose you. Without your friendship, the time I have sworn to remain east of the sea would become but an obligation. And if I say that you are more important to me than Gondor? Is it a dishonor to choose you at the cost of all else?

The warrior closed his eyes and turned away from his dearest friend to do the honorable thing.

Left in the Dark

She stepped through her round door and allowed herself a moment to stare at the hill and the horizon, then the road that led to the Mill and to Hobbiton. She let her believe for just a minute that a pony would soon clamber up the lane. Or perhaps he would be on foot. Yes, he would be on foot. A bit disheveled, likely, from whatever adventures he had gone through. He would stride surefooted if weary right to her front door. And he would smile and say, “I’m home.” Samwise would return to her. Rosie was sure of it.

Three through two for one

Sam hurried to set his master once again on the path Gollum made through the desolate land. No life had followed them into this vale of death. A vision of his garden taunted Sam again, with the color of new leaves, the perfume of fresh flowers, and the chirping of young birds that nested above them. Here, among moss and mud, all Sam had was silence. Silence and the stench that grew stronger with each step. Death smelled better than this rot. And yet they were days from Mordor. How much worse could – would that land be?

Sam cast his eyes about, checked on Mr. Frodo, then returned to his watch of Gollum. Since his sudden switch in temperament, Sam’s suspicions of the creature ran deeper than ever. He could never trust that gleam in even a hobbit’s eye, and this was no hobbit. Promise or no promise, he was not above betrayal, no, sir. He may act like a pup for Mr. Frodo, but to him, ‘the fat one,’ the thing showed its truer face. And promise on whatever you like, Sam would catch him before he finished his fiendish act, and that was Sam’s promise!

Sam pondered once again how Mr. Frodo had known how to sway Gollum, but he knew it was the Ring as was likely how. A whisper he tried to shush away told him the Ring was a bigger haunt for his master than Sam cared to believe. He shivered again at the memory of Frodo’s eyes, suddenly lit with a strange light, as he dragged the oath from Gollum. It was like looking at the Ring itself. Like the Ring was in Frodo as well as around his neck. How would he get rid of that part, if they ever got where they were going?

***

Thank you for reading! And now for the quiz: Do you know what are the three, two, and one?

Honor

Éowyn sat stiffly, suppressing a shiver as the cries of the wounded echoed off the caves walls, just as she struggled to overcome her resentment for the men on the other side of this fastness. Why was it they had the chance to swing their swords at the filthy Orcs but she could not? Was not her skill enough to rival many a man on that field? Did she not abhor those creatures with the same ferocity? Did she not love her land just as keenly?
She wavered for a moment as she bent over a new patient and attempted to ease his suffering. It was all she could do; saving him was beyond her skill. Her anger kindled anew with the thought that she would rather die among a field of Orcs than tend to the dying here. If her life could save others, then it would be an honorable death. Here she could only watch them die. What honor was there in that?
Éowyn vowed then that she would have her honor, whether in life or death she did not know. In her heart, she knew her time was nigh. When it came, she would not falter.