The common theme is Yule. Elements: Sleet, Bywater, and the Gaffer

It was a brilliant day. A wonderful day. Marvelous day. The perfect day before First Yule. Hamfast Gamgee had a bounce in his step and a whistle on his lips. He wouldn’t have thought he could feel so good.

But then again, why not? He was in his first year of being the gardener to Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, The Hill, Hobbiton, and he was in his first year of a quick, but so far reasonably happy, marriage. So much had happened in not even a year’s time that it sometimes set Ham’s head to spinning. The working for Mr. Bilbo, now that was the easy part of it all. Ham knew his gardening and knew he was good at it. But the being married . . .

It had taken a some getting used to. He shook his head, a wry grin replacing the pucker on his lips from whistling. He’d had hobbitesses caring for him nearly all his life, excepting only the few months he lived alone at #3 Bag Shot Row between taking on his position at Bag End and his marriage to Bell. But the being married was different . . . he hadn’t had to be the one taking care of the female of the house until then. There had been arguments over how things should be run, how she cooked and what she cooked, what he was doing with his salary, what days were wash days, how often he needed to fill the wood box. So many little things.

And their intimate life . . . Ham blushed a bit. Well after a shaky start (they really had hardly known each other before they were husband and wife) that was all good as well.

Now he was on his way to Bywater to get her very first Yule gift from her husband. Bell had seen them on a trip to Bywater several months ago when they had walked by Nod Smallburrow’s furniture shop.

“I see Nod’s a new table in his window,” Ham said as they came abreast of the shop. “Not many as put such a good turn to a piece o’ wood as Nod. Right clever with a lathe and that be a fact.” He was surprised when Bell stopped. #3 was furnished, they needed no furniture. It was nothing fancy, mind, but good solid furniture that would do just fine till they decided to start their very own brood of Gamgees.

“Yes,” he heard her say softly, “a good hand at turnin’ wood.” Bell sighed and they went on their way, but not without Ham noticing what had caught his wife’s eye.

Knitting needles and crochet hooks.

The next time he went to Bywater, Ham made sure to go by Nod’s shop for a better look. They were fine work indeed. What Bell had for her needles and hooks were merely sticks smoothed and shaped as well could be, but just sticks with a hook carved into one end for crocheting and string wound thickly round the ends of the needles so the yarn didn’t slide off the end. These in Nod’s window were works of art. The knitting needles were black walnut or oak turned to smooth dowels with smoothly tapered blunted points, each with fancy turnings and glass beads for the stops at the ends. Each was a perfectly matched pair with the pairs coming in evenly increasing thicknesses. The larger crochet hooks were in the same woods as the knitting needles with decorative turnings on the end that wasn’t hooked. The smaller ones were bone. Even Ham could appreciate the beauty of them.

“Ah, those are a right joy o’ mine, Ham,” came a voice from the shop’s doorway. Hamfast turned to see Nod leaning up against the door frame, smiling broadly. “Some there are that say they be naught but foolishness, but they’re a fun thin’ for me to make and they sell well bein’ as the lasses love them.”

“Aye, I know that as my Bell was drinkin’ in an eyeful o’ them the other day when we were in town. She’s naught but homemade, not that that ain’t good mind, but these . . .” Ham let a soft whistle pass his lips.

“My Daisy says there’s naught better. Mind I supposed she might be a bit leanin’ in their favor as I’m her husband, but she n’er won at the fair with her hand work until after I started makin’ her needles and hooks like these ones. Now she most often takes a first and no worse than third.”

Ham slowly nodded his head as he continued looking at the needles and hooks. “How much?”

Nod named his prices. Ham frowned and shook his head.

“Let’s not be hasty, Ham. There just maybe somethin’ we can work out betwixt us that’ll get ya some of those for your Bell.”

Work it out they did. Ham did some gardening for Nod. He found him some top quality raspberry bushes and set them in his garden. Rearranged his vegetable garden so that the right plants were near each other while keeping others apart. With the gardening help and what Ham could save from his salary, he was now on his way to Bywater to make the last payment on a set of three pair of different sized knitting needles and three different crochet hooks - one of wood and two bone. Small sized, medium sized and large sized of each.

He took his luncheon at the Ivy Bush.

“What did ya be getting Pansy for Yule, Olo?”

“A rollin’ pin and a rug beater. What’d ya get for Violet?”

“Fryin’ pan.”

Such was the conversation that circled around the inn that day. Ham was rather pleased that, at least for this first Yule together, he had bought Bell something that was pretty as well as of good use.

“Hoy, Ham Gamgee!”

“Hoy there, Toby!” Toby came and eased himself down beside Ham. They had known each other ever since Ham had started working in Hobbiton for his uncle. Toby Grub was old enough to be Ham’s grandfather, but still a hearty old gardener.

“What be bringing ya o’er here on a day like taday, youngster?” asked Toby with a nudge to Ham’s ribs.

Ham looked out a nearby window at the sunlit day and wondered what the old hobbit meant. “Tomorrow bein’ First Yule, I’m here to be gettin’ Bell’s gift. I bought her some o’ Nod’s knittin’ and crochet tools.”

Toby laughed. “Yer goin’ to get her spoiled there, lad. She’ll be ‘spectin’ such grand things all the time now.”

“Not Bell,” Ham blushed as he grinned. “She’s a right sensible lass. But she’s a fair hand at her knittin’ and such and since we aren’t having to spend money nor time on gifts for any little ones yet . . . well, I reckoned I could get her somethin’ real special this year.”

Toby nodded and patted Ham on the back. “For all their fancy looks, they be a right useful gift, lad. She’ll be usin’ them for years ta come. Ya chose well, Ham lad.” Toby began to rub his right shoulder while he stretched his muscles and popped his joints. “In for a nasty bit o’ weather afore the day be out. Sleet I’m thinkin’, n’ maybe snow. Ya might best be gettin’ yerself back to Hobbiton, Ham.”

Ham looked out the window once again. The sun still shone brightly. He couldn’t figure out these old hobbits with their thinking they knew the weather because of their achy joints. “It’s not that far,” he said to Toby. “I’ll have a good fillin’ luncheon and then be headin’ home.”

“Suit yerself, lad, but I wouldn’t be too long with fillin’ yer corners.” Toby slowly stood, gave Ham another pat on the back then left the inn.

A half an hour hadn’t passed, Ham was sure, when he looked once more toward the window, this time to see spatters of rain on the glass. Once he got to the doorway, he quickly realized that the rain wasn’t rain. An icy wind ruffled his hair and went right through the coat he was trying to wrap more closely about himself. “How’d old Toby do that?” he muttered to himself and, with a shiver, stepped firmly out into the sleet.

He lost count of the number of times he slipped and fell. Even the grass along the edge of the road was too slippery to walk upon easily. Always, no matter if he fell forward, backward or on his sides he kept a sure hold on Bell’s gift, keeping it so it wouldn’t be under him when he landed. He wasn’t going to give her broken knitting needles and crochet hooks for her very first Yule gifts from him.

He slid onwards. Down hill was treacherous. Level was perilous. Up hill was practically impossible. He had no hat and his hair was both dripping and crunchy. He had holes in his gloves, though it mattered little as they were sopping wet anyway. Finally, after three times the time it normally would take him to walk home from Bywater, he pushed open his front door. He nearly slipped into the hole, barely catching himself by hanging on tightly to the doorknob.

“Ham!” Bell cried out at the sight of her ice covered dripping wet husband. “Oh, Ham! Why didn’t ya just stay in Bywater? It be so nasty out. Well listen to me, as if ya don’t know that for yerself, just comin’ in out of it like this.” She was bustling around him and he found himself stripped bare, wrapped in the quilt from their bed and sitting in his chair before the hearth nearly before he knew what was happening to him. She started rubbing his hair with a towel. “Ya’ll catch yer death, ya will. Then what’ll become o’ me?” She paused long enough to kiss his cold, red cheek then went back to the brisk rub down she was giving his head. “It be a good thin’, Mr. Hamfast Gamgee, that I know a thin’ or two about helpin’ chilled folk warm up.” She felt his hair, seemed satisfied with it and set down her towel. She poured him a mug of tea, let him take a few sips then attacked his head once again. “You just open up the front of that quilt, Ham, and be lettin’ in some o’ the heat from the fire. Whatever made ya decide ya had to get home in all this?”

He nodded toward the small table that stood beside the door. “Ya took it from me along with my clothes.” He grinned mischievously at her.

“That little parcel? Ya went through bein’ froze near ta death for that little parcel?”

“It be your Yule present. I wasn’t goin’ ta let ya have yer first Yule as a married lass and have no husband at home and no gift.”

Bell’s eyes were wide, her mouth softly open in surprise. “Ya . . . ya bought me somethin’? Somethin’ from a shop?” She hung her head and a tear escaped her eye. “I hardly ever had a shop bought gift. I . . . made yours.”

Ham started to jump up to hug his wife, but remembered his state of undress and took a moment to grab the quilt, then wrapped his arms and the quilt around Bell.

“Has always been like that for me as well, my dearest Bell,” he said softly in her ear as he rocked her a bit. “Home made is just fine. It’s just . . . well, it’s just that I’ve been feelin’ as my life couldn’t get much better. I have the best job a gardener could want and a sweet, lovely wife takin’ care o’ me. I wanted to make this special.” He pulled back a bit and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. “Why don’t ya open it now? I don’t know what is hurtin’ me worse, all the bruised places I’ve on me or the wantin’ to know that ya’ like what I bought for you.”

Her eyes twinkled like a child’s. “Then ya must get yours now as well.” Bell wriggled out of his arms and ran into their bedroom to fetch Ham’s gift. He picked up her gift before sitting down on their settee. He patted the seat beside him when she returned and she plopped down next to him.

“I’ll take mine first. I’m the husband,” Ham said in a stern tone that his smile belied. She handed him something knitted, rolled up and tied with a bright red bow. He eagerly pulled the ribbon and discovered a hat, gloves and scarf of dark brown wool in cabled pattern. “Aw!” he said as he pulled the hat down over his still damp hair before flinging the scarf about his neck. He then pulled on the gloves. “How did ya get the size right on these gloves? My hands are rather big from all my gardenin’.”

“I measured them as I went along by holdin’ them up to yer hands while ya napped.”

They both laughed. Ham gave her a firm hug and a gentle kiss. “Thank ya, my love. I could have used the lot o’ these on my walk today. Your turn now.”

Bell looked at her parcel. It was a rolled piece of cloth with ribbons stitched to it at the top and bottom. She wasn’t sure she wanted to open it or sit and enjoy just looking at it. A shop bought gift. Like what well to do folk would get for their Yule gifts.

Ham was about to burst with wanting Bell to open her gift. “Ya can open it. Truly ya can, Bell.”

She smiled up at him with her shy smile then slowly pulled open the top then the bottom ribbon and started to unroll the piece of cloth. It all nearly fell to the floor as her hands flew to her face in astonishment. A quick grab by Ham caused him the loss of the quilt around his torso but saved Bell’s gift from falling off her lap.

There were long and short narrow pockets sewn into the cloth and sticking out of each were either the tooled and beaded ends of a pair of knitting needles or the tooled end of a crochet hook.

“Those fancy made needles and hooks,” Bell breathed in disbelief. “Ya noticed me lookin’ at them. Ya noticed.”

“Yes. I’m sorry there are only three of each. I hope . . .”

“Only three of each! Only?” She threw her arms around him holding him tightly for a few moments before noticing the quilt had fallen off of him. She pulled it back into place then hugged him some more. “It’s a treasure, that’s what. A treasure like . . . like . . . a dragon’s hoard! A treasure.”

Ham held his wife and smiled, filled with a warmth a quilt could never provide.