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