First Day of Yule:
"Your Majesty, Mithrandir has sent you a Yule gift."
"Has he?" Thranduil asked suspiciously, remembering the old proverb, 'Beware of wizards bearing gifts, it probably means they're up to something.' "What is it?"
"A pear tree and a partridge" said the chamberlain.
"A pair of trees and a cartridge?" Thranduil queried, he would never admit it but lately he had been having hearing difficulties and he was convinced no-one had noticed.
"No sire." The chamberlain said wearily raising his voice, "a fruit tree bearing pears and a bird, a partridge!"
"Thranduil shrugged, "Fair enough, perhaps he wants to apologise for sending these sodding dwarves my way. Have suitable arrangements made."
Second Day of Yule:
"Another gift has arrived from Mithrandir my king."
"That wizard is definitely up to something – What is it this time?"
"Two turtle doves sire."
What! Doves that turn into turtles? Is this one of these transformer type toys?
"No sire they are birds."
"Ah well just put them with the partridge if that's what yesterday's offering was called."
Third Day of Yule
Thranduil may not have been quite as quick on the uptake these days but the appearance of his chamberlain suggested a certain pattern.
"So what has the wizard seen fit to send me today Galdor?"
"Three French hens sire."
"French horns? Musical instrument thingys?"
"More birds sire, chickens from French, and may I make so bold as to remind you that we have looked in vain for French on all the maps and cannot find any reference to such a place."
"Well we always did suspect that Mithrandir made that one up, so is there anything special about these chickens?"
Not that I have been able to ascertain your highness."
"At this rate I am going to have to start an aviary" Very well you may go."
Fourth Day of Yule
"And?" prompted Thranduil as Galdor approached.
"Four calling birds, but I have no idea why they are called calling birds sire. I also have to report that we now only have two of the French chickens. One of them turned out to be a cockerel and your son claims he shot it by accident after it woke him early this morning."
"Remind me to have a word with Legolas about his archery practice. It's very laudable that he wants to keep up his skills but he should do it outdoors not in his bedroom. He nearly injured one of the maids last week when she came to change his sheets. Well just deal with the birds will you?"
Fifth Day of Yule
Galdor was not a happy elf "He's going to go berserk when he hears what got sent in today!. Why couldn't I get a nice safe job like spider clearance duty in Mirkwood?"
Thranduil was sitting humming to himself so far this morning he was in a good mood."
"Ah Galdor! So today's offering would be five birds, correct?"
"Um no your majesty" said Galdor cringing. There are as you surmise five ..items. Rings, sire Gold rings."
There was silence for a moment and then Thranduil's scar became very visible.
"He sent what! Has he gone completely insane? He of all people should know what happened the last time a wizard started giving out rings?" You better see if you can find of these little Halfling creatures and get them to throw the blasted things into the nearest volcano and lock up the first elf who starts gibbering about his precious! See to it at once!"
Sixth Day of Yule
"This had better not be six of the 'r' word." Thranduil warned "We do not do the 'r' word."
"No sire" Galdor said breathing a sigh of relief, "it's geese. Geese laying eggs."
"I think you mean egg laying geese Galdor" Thranduil said kindly, he was feeling better now that the 'r' word was not going to be mentioned.
"That as well your majesty but they are in fact laying eggs as we speak."
"Where do you suppose he is getting all of these birds from? Do you think he stole them?"
"Unlikely sire, none of them have rings round their leg….Oh s**t!
Seventh Day of Yule
"Seven what today?" Thranduil queried.
"Swans sire."
"laying eggs?"
"No just swimming about in the ornamental fountain."
Thranduil rubbed his hands together gleefully.
"Excellent! I haven't had roast swan in a long time I think it must have been my son's first birthday party. Perhaps the old wizard is of some use after all."
…Sometime later Thranduil is being brought up to speed by an aide.
"Run that by me again would you? Galdor is in the healing wing along with a swan with a healing wing, my son having apparently decided that these birds are too noble to be eaten. This is the same son who 'accidentally' shot a chicken from French?"
"Yes O great king" the aide affirmed nervously "and the other birds have flown away."
Thranduil shrugged "Ah well, you win some you lose some!"
Eighth Day of Yule
"Galdor! Glad to see you have recovered what birds have we got today?"
"Not birds sire, - milkmaids"
"Actual milkmaids?"
"Yes , complete with cows"
"That wizard's gone completely off his rocker, you know that?"
"Apparently so sire"
At that point they were interrupted by Legolas.
"Ada, there are eight women out there who keep offering to show me their dairy products! Cows!"
"Legolas!" Thranduil reproved, "that is not a nice way to talk about ladies even if they are being a bit over affectionate."
"No Ada look! there are cows coming into your audience chamber."
…Sometime later after elves with shovels had cleared up the mess and carted it away to fertilise the royal rhubarb.
"remind me Galdor how many days of Yule are there?
"Twelve sire."
Thranduil put his head in his hands
"Oh good" he said weakly "I can hardly wait…"
Ninth Day of Yule
Thranduil could only watch open mouthed in astonishment as the dance troupe consisting of nine ladies all wearing sparkly tights, sequins and feathers high kicked their way around the audience chamber.
"How do you think they manage to walk in these shoes let alone dance in them?" Thranduil asked.
Galdor shrugged. "I have no idea sire but Legolas is complaining again he said between these ladies and the milkmaids he is beginning to feel very harassed."
Thranduil waved his hand dismissively.
"Tell him to shut up and drink his milk like a good little elf!"
Tenth Day of Yule
Today the dance troupe consisted often men. This much was obvious because what they were wearing on their lower limbs left very little to the imagination.
"I believe it's called ballet sire." Galdor advised. "And I have had another complaint from your son, he says some of these dancers have been making indecent advances towards him."
"You know Galdor I'm not in the least bit surprised."
"Actually" he said, casting an appraising glance over the troupe, "Have that one second from the left washed and sent to my chambers this evening."
"Your wish as always is my command O great king but may I remind you that this evening you are entertaining two ladies from the corps de ballet and a milkmaid, sans cow ( they may not have known where French was but they could speak it!).
"yes very well perhaps tomorrow then?"
Eleventh Day of Yule
A slightly hungover Thranduil watched bleary eyed as Galdor approached the throne. He raised a (bleary) eyebrow in query.
Eleven pipers your highness. "Ah! Elven pipers how pleasant and soothing."
Thranduil clapped his hands over his ears in horror as the tortuous sounds1 came nearer. Through the great double doors came eleven hairy men (they were too tall to be dwarves but some of them bore a striking resemblance to that race). Each man appeared to be wrestling with a plaid octopus which was emitting the most dreadful cries. Each man was also wearing a plaid skirt which came to just above their rather hairy knees.
"What in Middle earth that terrible racket?" Thranduil shouted over the din. "Take it away at once!"
Once the room had been cleared and the king had had an aspirin he turned to Galdor.
"Your majesty, your son informs me that one of these 'gentlemen' tried to proposition him' and it was with some difficulty that I restrained him from shooting the man. He says he is getting quite fed up what between the birds the milkmaids and the male and female dancers."
"Ah well Galdor only one more day to go, how bad can it be?"
Twelfth Day of Yule
Thranduil didn't have to ask, he could hear for himself. ..and yes there were 12 of them. Drummers of various sorts from one man whose drum as so large that he nearly fell over, through a couple of very suspicious looking individuals in black leather, ending with at the other end of the line, a small boy with a small tin drum.
"What are we going to do Sire?" Galdor cried wringing his hands in despair.
An evil grin came over Thranduil's face.
"Galdor, don't you think it's time I sent Elrond a belated Yule gift .. or more accurately gifts?
1 I am allowed to say this as I'm Scottish!