30 December, 3017
"Hurry up, Merry, I'm freezing!" Pippin shivered as a gust of wind caught him from behind, lifting the edge of his cloak and shoving him forward several steps.
"Sorry, can't move any faster." Just behind Pippin's elbow, Merry hopped over a rut in the road. "My arms are full. And you'd do good to remember who made us so late. It wasn't me that had to have one more pint, my lad."
"Yes, but..." Pippin sneezed with a suddeness that caught him by surprise and dumped his armload of packages into the light covering of snow on the ground. Blinking in confusion, he stared for a moment, then scurried after the tumbled boxes now speckling over with tiny white flakes.
From a little ways ahead, Merry called, "Oi! Have you got lost? I thought you wanted to hurry?"
Pippin glared at a bright red box as it slid slowly down the verge and bumped his toes, tiny bells still jingling on the big bow. "I sneezed, you great idiot. No thanks to you. Packages jumping every which way. It's all a self-respecting hobbit can do to get packets of presents from one place to another when he's just one big freezing lump." Pippin now glared down the road toward Merry. "I expect you've got yours all bamboozled into not budging no matter what blows up your hat."
Merry's chuckle turned into full-blown laughter and he strolled back, his own arms laden with boxes and bundles. He watched as Pippin struggled with his wayward packages. "You're foxed, cousin, bless me if you aren't."
"Am not. I'm just all blowsy from this freezing gale ripping through my clothes like Old Nokes's flyswatter. You remember that, don't you, Merry?" Pippin carefully stacked a pile of smaller boxes on top of two large ones. "He was always good for laugh." Arms once more filled with gayly wrapped boxes, he stood, resolute in the teeth of the wind, ready for whatever should come. "But that's alright, Frodo'll take care of him. And no presents either. I daresay he'll have to do with the same swatter he's had all these years." He sneezed again but held tightly to his packages. "Tea, Merry. I need my tea. And food. Lots. And a bed."
Merry chuckled again, then stepped in close to whisper, "I expect I know where there's a bed. A big one."
Pippin closed one eye for a moment and looked at Merry. "With a pillow? I mean, one just for me?"
"Yes. And it's right in front of a big fireplace."
"What about a comforter? I wish to be very warm."
Merry tucked a kiss on the edge of Pippin's jaw. "That would be me."
Pippin grinned and swayed a little. "Then lets hop to it. This path isn't getting any older."
"That's shorter, you fool of a Took. And if you'd foregone that last pint..."
"Oh, no, cousin, don't blame me. Why, if all the tea in the world were in my pocket, you'd say my grandfather grew hops!"
"Peregrin Took, you are not only foxed, you've gone totally round the bend..."
And so, arguing comfortably, they trekked the final mile to Hobbiton.
Tucked inside the snug hole that was Bag End, two hobbits sat side by side, their toes toasting nicely in front of a cheery fire in the front parlor. Frodo heard the clock chime in the hall and glanced at Sam. "They seem to be running a bit late. Do you think we should go looking...?"
Sam grinned into a large flagon of mulled wine. "Oh, I expect they stayed a bit longer at The Green Dragon than they planned, especially if Pippin had anything to say in the matter."
Frodo sat back with a smile. "No doubt you're right and we'll just have to keep everything warm...
At that very moment, a loud knocking sounded on the front door and a voice cried, "Halloo the hole! We're cold! And we want..."
"No, we're hungry! And if you don't open..."
But by this time, Frodo had dashed down the hall and was wrenching open the door, laughing in the flurry of snow that came swirling in at his feet. "You're late! Where have you been?"
Merry grabbed hold of a long, neatly wrapped packet sporting a shiny red bow and whacked Pippin's head. "My cousin and yours, not to mention a dozen others, expressed the desire, the necessity no less, for one more pint." He laughed as Pippin crossed his eyes. "So, we find ourselves a bit late. We beg forgiveness, Mr. Baggins."
Pippin nodded vigorously. "Yes! And I'm no more foxed than a flyswatter and it's almost too dark to see my own hair, so let us in, please!"
Frodo gave a shout of laughter, grabbed both young hobbits and pulled them inside the brightly lit hall.
Merry and Pippin sere soon divested of cloaks, caps and packages and bundled into the kitchen. With four pairs of hands to gather dishes, plates, cups, saucers, forks, spoons, and knives, the dining room table was soon set and the serving dishes were carefully carried, with a great many sniffs and peeks, to their assigned spots amongs the plates.
Sam lit the last of the candles and everyone sat down, cheery round faces looking eagerly at Frodo for the Yule blessing.
Frodo took a moment to look at each of his friends -no, his family - in turn. Then blinking quickly, he cleared his throat. "Oh, how much more wonderful could things possibly be." He swallowed round the lump in his throat and said softly, "Everyone, link hands, please. I shan't say a great deal, for I know we are far too hungry. Pippin, please... Thank you. I wish that we may meet this way every Yule and I tell you now that I mean to do so, for you are my family. My heart is full of much more than I can ever possibly put into words and knowing that everyone here is just as happy more than makes this the best holiday ever. To us all, my friends, the best of the year to come and the most our hearts can encompass." Frodo squeezed Sam's hand very hard, catching his gaze with glistening eyes. "And don't you forget that, Sam Gamgee."
Sam held Frodo's eyes and said through a crooked smile, "I don't doubt that my heart can handle a great deal more than I ever thought it could, this year or any."
"Hear, hear," said Pippin. "Now, can we eat?"
Shouts of laughter rang through the room as Merry pulled Pippin's hand to his mouth and kissed it. "Just for that, your plate can be last, Master Took!"
Pippin gasped and quickly turned to Frodo, who merely shook his head and said, quite pompously, "Your plate, please."
And so the feast - for feast it was - began. And it lasted for several hours. There was more than enough for everyone. As a matter of fact, there would be leftovers for at least two more meals, an astonishing thing no matter how one looked at it. There was chicken stewed in the Old Gaffer's Secret Sauce (which in itself had long deserved a story), creamed potatoes drowning in fresh butter, baked squash with baby butterbeans, mounds of roasted corn, new peas garnished with tiny onions, and a particularly favorite dish of Frodo's made with asparagus, snow peas, mushrooms, and bacon.
And then came the 'afters', for which everyone seemed to find plenty of room. There was an apple and cherry cobbler with pastry so light it seemed to melt in one's mouth. There was a thick cheesecake smothered in spiced blueberries, resting on a sweet crust so crisp it almost snapped. There were tangy custards, juicy tarts, soft, creamy puddings, and no end of spice cakes and lemon twists. And almost best of all, there was the Yule cake: four tender buttery layers separated, each in turn, by cherry jam, gooseberry whip and lemon curd, and covered over with a thick buttercream frosting.
When everyone was as full of good things as they possibly could get, somewhat before the groaning stage, they cleared things away to the kitchen and moved into the parlor where, ensconced in front of the cheerful fire, they helped themselves to mulled wine, hot spiced cider and the Gaffer's best Nog. The room itself was draped with rowan, holly and large boughs of fir, and woven among every sprig were bright red ribbons hung with gold and silver bells. Heaps of presents were passed round and soon the floor, sofa and chairs were strewn with paper, ribbon, silvered string and shiny bows, whose tiny silver bells rang softly through the room.
And then, tired and happy, there was nothing left for them to do but sit back, sip a favorite concoction, and enjoy the warmth and contentment found amongst the best of companions.
Outside, the wind had picked up, whistling around The Hill and setting the shutters to rattling. With a full heart, Frodo lifted his mug and saluted each of his friends in turn. "To a very merry Yule. This was the best ever and I should hope that all to follow will be as merry. I love you all."
"To merry Yule!" came the answering chorus and the deep toast was drunk, down to the last drop.
Pippin looked hard into the bottom of his mug, then carefully lowered it to the table."Very fine, dear Frodo. Oh, very, very fine. Do you know, I never once thought of flyswatters?"
Merry slipped an arm round Pippin's shoulders and pulled him close. "If you don't hush, you shall have me dreaming of Old Nokes and that would be a nightmare. I think we shall go to bed now."
Pippin's brows drew together in great seriousness. "Oh, yes. Cousin Frodo has more beds than he can possibly use tonight, hasn't he? But I think you shall have to lead me, Merry. I can't find my feet..."
Merry stood and pulled Pippin upright, turning him gently toward the door. "Cousin Frodo, my dear, dear Frodo. This has been a night I shall remember all my life. You know we love you from the bottom of our hearts. Never forget that."
Pippin leaned back in Merry's arms and grinned sleepily at Frodo, two small tears trailing down his cheeks. "Yes, we do, very much. And Sam, the best of all Gamgee's, we love in great heaps as well. Oh my,..." A huge yawn took over for just a moment. "...I think maybe he'd be the one to save us all, if ever we need it. But I hope that's never." He yawned once more. "G' night."
Merry planted a kiss on Pippin's head and between them both, they made it out the door.
Beside Frodo, Sam shook with silent laughter. "To think of me, savin' anybody at all, now that's a treat." They were tucked close together on the sofa, the last of the flames setting patterns of shadow and light dancing across their features.
Frodo squeezed the hand clasped tightly in his own. "Oh, my dear Sam. You have already saved someone here." He smiled into Sam's questioning gaze. "Me, oh best of friends. From a lonely, cold life and an empty heart. And I shall spend the rest of my life thanking you. Just see if I don't."
A slow smile crept across Sam's face and he heaved a deep sigh of contentment. "If I can see your face, touch your hand, hear your voice, for all the days of my life, then I'll be the luckiest of hobbits there ever was." He took a deep breath, held it a moment and said softly, "I love you, Frodo my dear. Yesterday, today and tomorrow, which you know keeps coming for always." He smiled again as Frodo leaned in to place a soft kiss on his lips. "Just so you know."
"I know, Sam, I know." Eyes full, Frodo rested his head on Sam's shoulder and together they watched the quiet flames, hand in hand, heart in heart.
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Tales From Middle Earth 22. On Merry Yule by MJ
Story notes: Takes place during the Yule of 3017. (Related to TFME stories under Frodo/Sam and Gandalf/Radagast.)
The Tales of Middle-earth series.
