38. Yule

I don’t know if time moves differently here or not, but it’s certainly harder to keep track of. I do my best though, marking each day to reckon its passing when I remember. Near as I can tell, it’ll be Yule in a week. Gandalf stays with me after returning from Avallónë and sends out messages while I begin to prepare for the day. 

I bake pies, biscuits, cakes and scones. Sermë comes with a wild boar she speared in the woods. A pit is dug and lined with baking stones before the ground can freeze. It takes some doing, but we eventually figure out how to keep the underground oven warm and cover the boar the day before for a slow roast. Glorwaith and Erúvë plan the decorations. Several of Erúvë’s little sculptures are turned into ornaments for the rose bushes and when Galadriel arrives, she puts lights along the paths.

By week’s end, every house on the bluff is bursting with guests. I’m surprised at how quickly word has spread, though I’m reminded again they’ve got better avenues for news than the Quick Post. Nearly all of Elrond’s and Galadriel’s folk are here, and those who live nearby come in for the feast, bringing their own dishes to add to the bounty. 

I know as Yule means naught to them and they’re here only for me. I’m baffled but touched and I spend the day playing host to my own Party of Special Magnificence. I even have mathoms for my guests, mostly things that Frodo had acquired over the years but also things I had brought with me, little mementos of home.

The boar is dug up at noon and the feast begins. There’s enough food for fourths and fifths and there’s no corner as is left unfilled.

GF 11/3/12

To be continued...