Merry pressed his nose against the windowpane, staring bleakly at the blanket of snow stretching into the distance. At any other time he would have been overjoyed at the first sign of snow, and already would have been in the midst of snowball throwing or snowhobbit building, but for the first time in his young life the rare appearance of snow brought him no joy.

Icy winds had swept across Buckland, piercing through even the heaviest of cloaks, and sleet had pounded against the windows of Brandy Hall. The East Road had been rendered impassable and chunks of ice floated down the Brandywine. Some of the elders whispered of the Fell Winter long ago, and frightened the youngest children with tales of wolves crossing the river.

But Merry was not frightened. He was angry, and he grew angrier every time he remembered how the blizzard had ruined Yule.

* * *

Two days ago, Merry had been wandering though the halls, looking for Berilac so they could find something fun to do, when he had passed the Master’s study. He paused outside the open door, catching a few snatches of the quiet conversation between his father and grandfather. What he managed to hear made his heart clench.

“If I know Paladin he would not risk taking the lasses and a baby out in this storm…”

“Even old Bilbo is not mad enough to try…”

A Yule without Frodo and Bilbo and his Took cousins horrified Merry. He ducked out from behind the door and marched right into the Master’s study to address his father and grandfather.

“Da! Grandda! We can’t let it happen,” he cried. It would have been amusing – the tiny figure standing with his hands on his hips and his feet planted squarely into the rug in front of the enormous, polished desk – had Merry not been so distraught.

“What is it we cannot let happen, dear boy?” Rorimac said, peering down at the small, earnest face.

“We can’t let the snow keep Frodo and Bilbo and Uncle Paladin and Aunt Eglantine and the lasses and baby Pippin from visiting us,” Merry declared, a little breathless after reciting so many names. “It won’t be Yule if everyone isn’t together. And I’ve never had a Yule without Frodo.”

Rorimac and Saradoc exchanged a glance. It had not been easy for Merry to adjust to life at the Hall without Frodo, and a Yule without his cousin would undoubtedly be devastating.

“Come here, Merry,” Saradoc said at last, patting his lap. Merry climbed into his father’s lap, searching his kind face for an answer.

“The storm is very serious, Merry,” he said. “Already the snow is deep enough that the wheels of a waggon would not get through, and the wind is icy cold. It would be dangerous for your cousins to cross the Shire in this weather. It’s cold enough to make a hobbit’s toes freeze and fall off, and we wouldn’t want that to happen to anyone, now would we?”

Merry sniffled and shook his head. “I’ll just miss them. I even had the perfect present picked out for Pippin’s first Yule. It just won’t be any fun if they’re not here.”

“You’re right,” Saradoc agreed, kissing his son gently on the forehead. “I’ll miss them, too.”

* * *

Though the storm had stopped a day ago, Merry continued to glare out the window at the high drifts and valleys of pristine snow. Just that morning he had asked his parents if the Bagginses and Tooks would perhaps make it in time for start of the Yule festivities tomorrow, but they had said no, reminding him that even if their relations had left as soon as the storm ended, no waggon could make it through such deep snow. In consequence, Merry had begun his own rebellion against the snow and refused to even set one toe outside, even though such a vast amount of snow was not seen often in Buckland.

“Come away from the window, Merry,” Esmeralda said, coming up behind him. She took her son by the hand and led him down the hall toward the warmth of the kitchen. “Tomorrow is Yule, and I won’t have you sulking like this.”

“I’m sorry, Mum,” Merry mumbled. He glanced up at his mother’s face, remembering suddenly how the storm must have made her unhappy as well. “You must be sad that you won’t see Uncle Paladin for Yule.”

“I am,” Esmeralda admitted, her eyes wistful. “I was so looking forward to seeing everyone, but we must make the best of things, Merry. There will be other Yule celebrations, other chances for our family to be together. But for now I need you in the kitchen. I’m making a certain lad’s favorite biscuits, and I know how much he likes to help.”

Merry smiled reluctantly. Usually he enjoyed helping his mother cut the dough into interesting shapes and decorate it with icing and sweets, but today his heart just was not in it. With one last backward glance at the window, Merry sighed deeply. Even his favorite biscuits would not make this Yule any better.

* * *

“Wake up, Merry,” Saradoc said, gently shaking his son by the shoulder.

“Da?” Merry said groggily. He sat up, blinking in the pale light of the early morning, and stared at his parents in confusion. They were bundled up in cloaks and scarves and watching him expectantly.

“I thought we would play outside for a bit before breakfast,” Saradoc said with a grin. “I didn’t think that you would really want to let all that good snow go to waste, no matter how angry you are with it.”

“Happy Yule, dearest,” Esmeralda said, smiling. “Would you like to help us build a snowhobbit?”

Grinning, Merry stood on his bed and enthusiastically threw his arms around his parents’ necks. It was always fun when his parents played with him and perhaps, he admitted grudgingly, this Yule would not be as terrible as he expected.

* * *

For nearly two hours Merry and his parents played in the snow. Esmeralda had insisted quite firmly that no snowballs were to be thrown as long as she was outside, and so after they had built an enormous and very elaborate snowhobbit, they began digging a large tunnel through the snow.

“Maybe we can build a snow smial!” Merry exclaimed excitedly, his cheeks bright red from the cold as he burrowed through the snow with his hands.

Saradoc glanced up from his digging with a laugh. “Let’s just make a tunnel for now, my lad,” he said, tugging playfully on his son’s knitted hat.

Esmeralda stood from where she had been packing the walls of their tunnel with snow and frowned. “Did you hear something?” she asked, glancing at her husband.

“No,” Saradoc said, though he paused in his digging to listen.

Merry tugged on his mother’s skirt until she glanced down. “Maybe it was your belly wanting breakfast,” he said solemnly. As if on cue, his own stomach rumbled loudly.

“Well, that settles it,” Saradoc said, scooping up his son with one arm and taking his wife’s hand with the other. “We can finish our tunnel later.”

Together they trudged back to the Hall, and were nearly at the door when Merry suddenly gave a shout.

“Mum! Da!” he cried, glancing back over his father’s shoulder. “Look!”

In the distance two large ponies, or perhaps small horses, emerged from the trees and Merry and his parents stood watching, transfixed, as a large sledge came into view.

Merry’s eyes grew wide, and he was unable to keep the delighted smile off his face as he caught sight of Bilbo at the reins with a grinning Frodo at his side, and behind them a cluster of smiling Took faces.

A flood of Brandybucks poured out of the Hall to watch the arrival of the sledge. Bilbo climbed down first, and as he helped the lasses down he laughingly told of how he had specially ordered the sledge from the dwarves of the Mountain many years before, but had never had such an opportunity to use it. It was expertly crafted, lightweight and astonishingly fast, and they would have reached Brandy Hall even earlier, he said, had they not made frequent stops along the way to get out of the cold.

But Merry only half-listened to Bilbo’s tale, because Frodo came right over and lifted him high into the air and swung him around. He laughed when Merry told him how worried he had been that he would not see Frodo for Yule, but seemed to hug Merry more tightly all the same. Then Merry’s Aunt Eglantine appeared at his side, along with the baby, who was wrapped in so many blankets that he was little more than a small lump of fabric, though when Merry tickled him under his chin Pippin laughed and gurgled, his eyes bright and happy.

Yes, Merry decided as they all retreated indoors for a warm breakfast. This would definitely be the best Yule ever.