Frodo stepped back and cocked his head. It wasn’t the same. He had managed to find some ever green boughs on the island. Along with bright red bows, he had tied them above the doors and all through his and Bilbo’s house for Yule. He had attempted to do some baking as well. But it was lonely. Yule wasn’t the same without his cousins and Sam. It was ever so quiet, even when he and Bilbo sang the familiar Yule songs of the Shire.

On Yule Eve, Frodo sat in the overstuffed armchair and drank a mug of Yule Nog alone. He toasted Sam, Merry, Pippin, Rosie, Ellie, and all the Hobbits of the Shire. Frodo could picture Merry and Pippin playfully bantering about who would be the first to taste the treats. He could hear Sam trying to keep things in order, but only halfheartedly, as the two rascals never listened and it *was* Yule. He could hear their voices singing the beloved songs of Yule. Frodo prayed their Yule would be filled with light and love, even though he knew it would be.

Bilbo had meant to join him, but had fallen asleep. With nothing else to do and a heavy heart, Frodo doused the fire and curled up in his bed.

*~*~*~*~*

The lively sound of a fiddle came to his ears and a delicious aroma wafted into hi s room to tempt him. Someone entered the room and drew back the curtains to allow the sun to shine on Frodo’s face. "Sam..." he murmered.

"It’s not Sam, Frodo-lad. But it is your Uncle Bilbo. I think you’d best be up and dressed. You’ve guests waiting."

Frodo sat bolt upright in bed. "Guests? Bilbo...what is this?"

"Frodo, it’s Yule First. You haven’t forgotten, have you?"

Frodo shook his head, but thought to himself, ‘I was trying to forget.’ Bilbo left the room with a last piece of advice to get dressed quickly.

Frodo slipped into his best breeches and a shirt and waistcoat. As he entered the kitchen, he stopped short. Elrond, Galadriel, Celeborn, Bilbo, Gandalf and Arian, a young Elf friend of Frodo’s, were standing in the kitchen. "Happy Yule!" they all cried.

Unbidden tears blurred Frodo’s view, but he quickly dashed them away. "What is all this?"

"We’ve been planning this for a few weeks now, Frodo Baggins. We all knew you were a bit homesick. We are sorry that we’re not Hobbits, but we hope this will be a wonderful Yule for you."

All Frodo could say was, "I’m that obvious?" This elicited laughter from the merry company.

"Bilbo has informed us of the traditions of Yule, Frodo." Arian said.

And so Frodo’s Yule was not as lonely as he had expected. He was in the company of friends and was reminded that Yule was about loving and being loved. As he lay in bed that night, he could almost hear Sam’s voice saying, "Sleep well, Mr. Frodo. And Happy Yule."

THE END

Firsts Part II

The stars shone brightly on that First Yule Night. The young Baggins sat on the turf roof of Brandy Hall and sighed. He should be happy, but his young heart was miserable. It ached. It ached for the past that could not come back. It ached for those he held dear and could never be returned to him. It ached for everything that once was and could never be again. This was the last night of the Old Year. It was a terrible year for Frodo and he was glad it was over. He hoped the new year would be bring happier memories, but he doubted that.

He doubted so much now. He was a Baggins among Brandybucks, a misfit. Brandy Hall wasn’t home to him. He missed the small cottage he had shared with his mum and da. Last Yule had been perfect. His mum had wrapped him in the flannel blanket and she, his da and he all sat around the fire singing the familiar songs of Yule. He could clearly see the brightly decorated cottage. The red ribbons, the bright green boughs of holly and ever green boughs. Candles illuminated every window. And the smells of baking.... Yule had been so simple. And he had been so blissfully unaware. They had all been unaware that in a matter of months, the happy little family was to be shattered, drowned in the river’s raging water.

Frodo felt a tear slide down his cheek as he gazed at the bright stars. He didn’t bother wiping it away. No one could see him and it did feel so good to cry. A hand on his shoulder startled him. He turned and made out his Uncle Bilbo’s shape in the dark.

"I thought I’d find you here." the elder Hobbit said gently.

"Oh. How did you know where to look?" Frodo could think of nothing better to say. It startled him that his voice trembled so.

"You left your window open, lad. And you’ve always been drawn to the stars. Like an elf."

This didn’t elicit the desired smile. "What’s wrong?"

"Oh Uncle Bilbo! I miss mum and da so much!"

Bilbo drew Frodo into a warm embrace. "So that’s it. Come here, lad. It’s all right now."

It was a cold December night. Frodo shivered involuntarily in Bilbo’s arms.

"I thought you would be cold. I brought you your cloak." Bilbo draped it about his young nephew’s shivering shoulders. "Better?" he asked gently. He didn’t just mean his nephew’s coldness.

"Thank you. But..." the young lad hesitated. "Please don’t make me go in."

"Why not?"

"I can’t sleep, and I’d rather be out here, under the stars."

Bilbo chuckled. "Then would you like some company?"

"Would you really?" Frodo asked eagerly. His dear old uncle...or cousin or whatever...really was a comfort to him. He was always there when Frodo needed him most. Bilbo and Frodo stayed under the stars in quiet companionship. The sun of the new year rose to find the two huddled under a tree, still on the roof. There was a peaceful smile on both there faces. And so a new year began for Frodo Baggins.

_________________________________________________________________________

The End

Copyright, Frodo Baggins 2007

A/N: Sorry if this was a bit...I don’t know. If it didn’t make sense I apologize. It’s after midnight now. I thought writing would be the best way for me to welcome the new year. Though sleeping would be nice too. :) When inspiration hits, though, you can’t let it pass or it will slip through your fingers to be lost forever. Happy New Year and Happy Yule to you all! And to all a goodnight! :)

~FB