The Holiday Cabinet

by Elf Eye

Holiday-themed stories involving characters from the "Nameless One" series will be posted here. Primary characters: Anomen, the Rivendell Elves, Estel, and Mithrandir.

1. Chapter 1: Elf Gift

This site will be the location for holiday-themed stories. I will move over the appropriate chapters from "Elfling Interludes" as the various holidays approach, and new holiday-themed chapters will be posted here.

Vocabulary

Ælfgyfte—Elf-gift (Old English)

Askasleikir—Bowl-Licker (Icelandic)

Bjúgnakrækir—Sausage-Snatcher (Icelandic)

Gáttaþefur—Door-Sniffer (Icelandic)

Giljagaur—Gully Imp (Icelandic)

Girithron—December (Sindarin)

Gluggagægir—Window-Peeper (Icelandic)

Hurðaskellir—Door-Slammer (Icelandic)

Idhrendí—Thoughtful Lady (Sindarin)

jól—Yule (name of pagan midwinter festival; derived from Old Norse name for the month ýlir)

Jólakötturinn—Yule cat (Icelandic)

jólasveinar—Yule lads (Icelandic)

Kertasníkir—Candle-Beggar (Icelandic)

Ketkrókur—Meat-Hook (Icelandic)

Laufabrauð—leaf bread (Icelandic)

Pottaskefill—Pot-Scraper (Icelandic)

Saer—Bitter (Sindarin)

Skyrgámur—Curd-Gobbler (Icelandic)

Stekkjastaur—Sheepfold Sneak (Icelandic)

Stúfur—Stubby (Icelandic)

Thavron—Carpenter (Sindarin)

Þvörusleikir—Ladle-Licker (Icelandic)

Chapter 1: Elf-Gift

"The perfect size," exclaimed Arwen.

"The perfect size!" Glorfindel echoed in disbelief. "Arwen, we shall have to go back and fetch an entire team of horses to drag this home!"

"The perfect size," Arwen repeated stubbornly.

Anomen tried next. "Arwen," he wheedled, "the jól log must fit into the fireplace of the Hall of Fire."

"The main fireplace of the Hall of Fire," Arwen corrected. "'Tis a big fireplace."

"Not big enough for this trunk," returned Anomen.

"We could cut it down to size," argued the little elleth.

"Arwen," Anomen explained patiently, "It is not fair to ask the horses to drag unnecessary weight. Nor is it fair to us—for I do not believe that you shall be the one sawing this log to fit the fireplace! Why not choose a log that is already the right size? Remember," he added slyly, "that we still need to pick out just the right tree—aye, and trim it, too. The longer we spend over the jól log, the less time you will be able to spend on hanging ornaments."

This argument had the desired effect.

"Oh," exclaimed Arwen, "I think I see a nicer log over there!" She floundered through the snow toward the other side of the clearing until Glorfindel scooped her up and lifted her onto his shoulders. With a few great strides, he stood by the side of a log that several months before had been hewn from a windfall tree and left to dry. Arwen's first choice had been an entire tree trunk that had fallen only recently and so had not yet been sawn into manageable pieces.

"An excellent choice," Glorfindel said approvingly. "Not only is it the right size, but it is seasoned enough to burn cleanly, with little smoke."

With his feet he pressed down a patch of snow and set Arwen down upon the cleared spot before setting off for the place where they had left Glorfindel's horse and Anomen and Arwen's ponies.

"Anomen," Arwen said after the elf-lord was out of sight, "let us gather mistletoe."

"I think we have quite enough mistletoe," smiled Anomen. "It is hanging everywhere. Elrohir made sure of that, for he vowed to festoon every spot under which an elf-maiden might pass."

"Yes, he means to kiss them all," Arwen giggled, "but he has missed a spot. There is no mistletoe hanging before the door to Erestor's chamber."

"I don't see why there should be. Erestor avows that he wants nothing to do with the jól festivities."

"He says that every year," Arwen replied, "but he spends more time than anyone supervising the preparations."

"He spends more time than anyone supervising no matter what the occasion," Anomen retorted. "He revels in supervising, but does not revel in the revels!"

"He will this season," Arwen replied confidently.

"Oh, and are you a prophetess?" teased Anomen.

"Someday I may be," Arwen replied serenely, "for my grandmother is Galadriel. But it takes no seer to know that mistletoe ought to hung before Erestor's chamber. Haven't you noticed how fond he is of Haldir's sister?"

In fact, Anomen had noticed. Haldir's sister had been sent to study in Rivendell for a time, for she was exceedingly bright and had grown restive in Lothlórien.

"There are not books enough in Lórien to satisfy her curiosity," Galadriel had written. "Erestor's library, on the other hand, is famous, and I am sure it contains volumes sufficient to keep her occupied for quite some time."

Erestor had gladly accepted her as a pupil, for she was dedicated to her studies, as could not be said of any of the elflings—no not even of Anomen, who, while diligent, would still rather have spent his time on riding or archery. Like Elrohir and Elladan, Anomen would complete his required exercises and then escape to the training field, there to practice with sword and bow under the eye of Glorfindel, who, if strict, nonetheless oversaw the elflings' preferred activities. Meanwhile, Haldir's sister—Idhrendí was her name—remained in the study, poring over books and discussing them with Erestor. The tutor would ensconce himself in one of the seats abandoned by the elflings, and he and Idhrendí would sit with heads close together, reading as one from the same volume. This was not Elrohir's idea of a romantic interlude, nor even Elladan's or Anomen's, but Erestor always emerged from the study with flushed cheeks and a lively step.

'Erestor cannot help but kiss Idhrendí if they come together beneath a sprig of mistletoe', Anomen smiled to himself. 'He would pretend to object at the custom, but I do believe he would be delighted at the opportunity'. Aloud, he said, 'Very well, Arwen. I believe close to this spot is a juniper tree lapped in mistletoe. Let us go seek it out."

Anomen took Arwen's hand, and off they set. He knew Glorfindel would not be troubled that they did not remain in the clearing, for the elf-lord would be able to easily follow their trail in the snow, especially as the sky was clear and did not threaten further snow that might obscure their tracks.

In short order they arrived at the juniper tree, which nature seemed to have decorated for the jól festival, festooning it with garlands of mistletoe. These mistletoe vines were laden with waxy white berries, the mistletoe almost unique among plants for bearing its fruit at the time of the winter solstice. As the two elflings neared the juniper, birds flew out, and Anomen called out an apology, for he perceived that the birds must have been feeding upon the mistletoe berries. He knew, however, that their task would not take long, and that the birds would immediately return once the elflings had departed. Indeed, he could hear the birds twittering and rustling in the scrub nearby.

Arwen picked out the sprigs she liked best, and Anomen drew his knife and carefully cut the stems and slipped the leaves into his pouch. Then he took Arwen's hand and prepared to return to the clearing. She pulled back, however.

"Arwen," Anomen began, "we must rejoin Glor—"

"Hush," she commanded. "Don't you hear it?"

Anomen listened carefully, and above the noise of the twittering birds he heard a plodding sound.

"A horse," said Arwen. "Someone is riding a horse in the forest, and it is not one of ours."

"It is not a horse, Arwen, but something very like a horse. It is donkey. Men keep them and sometimes breed them with horses. They are very sturdy and are often used as pack animals."

"Pack animals? Perhaps it is a trader, then."

Anomen shook his head. "So close to the jól festival? Men and Elves alike return to their families to celebrate at this time. 'Tis a poor season to travel but an excellent time to gather round the fire with one's friends and kinfolk."

"You don't suppose it is"—and here Arwen lowered her voice—"an enemy."

"I do not know, but I will find out. Arwen, hide beneath the boughs of that juniper tree."

Arwen obeyed at once, and Anomen was grateful for the mistletoe, for the cascading vines were like a curtain around the base of the tree. He paused long enough to obscure her footprints with his own and then crept in the direction of the snow-muffled hoof-falls of the plodding animal.

Peering out from a thicket, he spied the donkey. Upon it sat a pregnant woman. Swaying wearily, she rode with her head down, and the eyes of the equally weary Man who led the donkey were cast down upon the snow beneath his feet.

As Anomen watched, the woman shivered and drew her cloak more tightly about her shoulders. The Man sensed that something was amiss. He stopped and raised his head.

"You are cold. You must take my cloak."

The woman shook her head. "You are cold, too."

"I am only one must fend off the chill, but you must stay warm not only for yourself but for the child."

"It will do neither me nor the child any good if you perish," the woman replied.

Anomen could stay quiet no longer. "I have got a cloak," he called.

The Man held a staff in one hand. He dropped the donkey's leading rein and grasped the staff in both hands, brandishing it.

"Who are you?" he called warily.

Anomen sensed that the Man was no threat but merely wished to keep the woman from harm. He stepped from the thicket.

"I am Anomen," he said forthrightly. "I live near here. I am an Elf and am of an age when I begin to suffer less from the cold. You humans, though, are not well-equipped for a winter journey. Moreover, it will be very cold tonight, for there is no cloud cover, and you are far from any inn. May I offer you aid?"

The Man slowly lowered his staff. "'It wouldn't matter if we were near an inn," he said sadly, "for there is no room for the likes of us. We carry no money and little in the way of valuables. We cannot pay you for your aid."

"I didn't ask to be paid," Anomen replied calmly. "'Tis the season of jól, the season of gift-giving. I offer my aid freely, with no expectation of payment."

"Thirteen days of gift-giving," a little voice piped up. It was Arwen. She had heard the exchange and had come out of hiding.

"Thirteen days of gift-giving," she repeated happily. "Each day one of the jólasveinar will visit."

Thus far the woman, her weary face creased with fear, had said nothing, but now she smiled a little and straightened her back. "Jólasveinar," she said softly. "The Yule lads. I have not thought of those mischievous wights in a very long time."

"First comes Stekkjastaur the Sheepfold Sneak, who troubles the sheep," Arwen began to recite, "and then comes Giljagaur the Gully Imp, who hides in ravines during the day and creeps out at night to steal milk. He is followed by Stúfur the Stubby and Þvörusleikir the Ladle-Licker."

The woman laughed outright. "Yes, and then Stúfur's friends Pottaskefill the Pot-Scraper and Askasleikir the Bowl-Licker."

Arwen and the woman exchanged smiles. "I am quite certain that last year I heard Hurðaskellir the Door-Slammer," the elleth told the human confidingly. "I was afraid to get out of my bed, though. And I left out a bowl of cheese curds for Skyrgámur the Curd-Gobbler, and it was empty the next morning!"

"My folk used to leave out sausage for Bjúgnakrækir the Sausage-Snatcher," smiled the woman. "It has been long since we had the sausage to spare," she added softly, rubbing her hand over her belly. Then she rallied, smiling once more. "I was not so afraid of Hurðaskellir the Door-Slammer," she told Arwen, "but of Gluggagægir the Window-Peeper, who would try to steal whatever he could spy through the window. I always hid my toys on the day that he would arrive. I was also not fond of Gáttaþefur the Door-Sniffer, for he always managed to smell out our laufabrauð, our leaf bread. I didn't mind sharing our sausages with Bjúgnakrækir, for we ate them the year-round, but I was not so generous when it came to laufabrauð, for it was very tasty and we only had it at jól. I didn't mind Ketkrókur the Meat-Hook, either, but I was terrified of Kertasníkir the Candle-Beggar. I did not like waking up in a dark room!"

"Some of the jól lads are troublesome," Arwen agreed, "but they always leave behind gifts to make up for their mischief-making. This morning Stekkjastaur left me a fine pair of mittens. See?"

Arwen held up her hands, which were clad in brightly patterned mittens, and the woman opened up her mouth to praise their design. Suddenly, though, she blanched. Anomen spun about to see where she stared fearfully, but he relaxed when he saw that it was Glorfindel. The Man, however, raised his staff anew and stepped between the donkey and the elf-lord. Glorfindel held his hands out, palm upward, so the Man could see that he carried no weapon.

"I heard laughter," he said, "and came to join the festivities. For shame, Anomen and Arwen, starting the jól celebration without me! For I see that we have guests. Well, let us all hurry to the Hall, for I fear that we must wait until tomorrow to choose our jól tree. But tonight we shall have a grand time warming ourselves before our jól log."

Turning as if he expected to be followed by Man and Elf alike, Glorfindel strode back the way he had come. Anomen took Arwen's hand and began to follow, after a few steps looking back over his shoulder and smiling encouragingly at the humans. After a few minutes, he was glad to hear in his wake the plodding hoof-falls of the donkey.

Glorfindel was waiting for them by the jól log, which was fastened by rope to the harness of a great draft horse. "I think," he said to the Man, "that the horse will easily bear your wife. Your donkey is worn out and will make better speed without its burden. And speed is necessary, for see, the sun draws near the horizon, and once dark falls it will be bitterly cold."

"No cloud quilt," Arwen said solemnly. Erestor had taught her that after sundown a blanket of clouds would hold in the day's warmth, so that, odd as it might seem, the sunniest days were the ones followed by the coldest nights.

The Man gazed up at the sky and considered. He was still not certain whether to trust the Elves.

"You will freeze out here if you do not come with us," Anomen said worriedly.

The Man nodded. "Yes," he said softly. "We will. She will, anyway, and with her the child. Well, better to face an uncertain life than a certain death."

Glorfindel and the Man helped the woman from the donkey and carefully lifted her upon the horse. The humans' baggage—a small item—they also tied upon the horse.

"And now you must take Anomen's pony," Glorfindel said.

"I would not take a mount from a child," the Man protested.

"You won't," Glorfindel reassured him. "Anomen will ride on Arwen's pony, and Arwen will go pick-a-back upon my shoulders."

Mollified, the Man mounted the pony. The weight of the gaunt Man was no burden for the sturdy beast. The Man's legs did dangle, of course, and on any other occasion Anomen might have found the sight funny. The situation was too urgent for humor, however. The woman had rallied during her conversation with Arwen, but now she swayed so much that Glorfindel, who was walking alongside her, again and again put out his hand to steady her. At last, to hasten their progress, he untied the rope fastened to the jól log.

"We will come back for it tomorrow," he promised Arwen.

"I don't mind," Arwen said bravely. "Now we shall light the jól log after decorating the jól tree, just as we had planned all along. No, I don't mind at all."

"You are a very good child," said the Man, who had overheard the exchange between elleth and elf-lord. "You need not fear that Jólakötturinn the Jól Cat will ever eat you!"

"No, but Elrohir is afraid of him," Arwen replied. "My brother leaves out a bowl of milk every night during the jóltide so that Jólakötturinn won't gobble him up. I think a bowl of milk is not enough, though, for Elrohir is very naughty. Indeed, I do not know if a bucket would suffice!"

By now they were nearing the Hall, and Glorfindel bade Anomen ride ahead. The snow had been well broken on their way out, so Anomen urged the pony into a gallop. He rode straight to the door, telling the Door Warden that he had an urgent errand and that the ostler must see to the pony. Then he pelted down the hall to Elrond's study.

"You must come at once, Ada," he exclaimed as he burst into the room, not caring that he was startling several emissaries from Lothlórien. "Arwen and I found a human family in the forest, and the woman is with child, and she is very cold and hungry, and she sways on her mount, and I am afraid she will be very ill, and—"

"Run to the kitchen and tell the Cook to prepare some broth," interrupted Elrond, hurrying to a cabinet and pulling out various pouches and vials, "and then tell the Housekeeper to prepare a room in the House of Healing."

Anomen turned and ran for the kitchen. The Cook began to put on his best irate expression as soon as the young Elf crossed the threshold, but he abandoned the pretense as Anomen launched into an explanation of his errand. At once he called for more wood and began to bustle about the kitchen.

Now Anomen ran for the Housekeeper. Unlike the Cook, she did not pretend to be angry when Anomen entered her domain, but like that Elf she at once began to bustle about. She set the maids to heating water and sent Anomen to fetch several large stones from a pile outside her storeroom. "Put them in the fire," she instructed the young Elf. "When they are hot, we shall wrap them in cloth and place them all about the lady. That will warm her up, I'll warrant."

When Anomen returned with the stones, the Housekeeper bade him to hasten outside once more to bring in more wood. When he returned with his arms laden with logs, Glorfindel and Elrond were just helping the woman into the chamber. Nearby her husband hovered anxiously, but neither he nor the Elves were permitted to remain. The Housekeeper accepted the medicines that Elrond proffered, but then sent even him away. "Shoo, the lot of you," she commanded. "After the Lady has bathed and gotten dressed, I will send for you." Then she called back Anomen. "You stay just outside the door," she instructed him. "I shall send you to fetch Lord Elrond the minute it is proper."

Feeling very important, Anomen was still standing by the door when the Cook arrived bearing with his own hands a steaming bowl of broth. He delivered it to the Housekeeper and then turned his attention to Anomen.

"Didn't see you at dinner," he said accusingly. "Have something against my cooking?"

"Oh no, Master Cook. I have nothing against your cooking. We were still in the forest at dinnertime. That is why I did not come to the table!"

"Oh, indeed," the Cook said skeptically. He drew a biscuit from his pouch. "Prove that you have nothing against my cooking—if you can!" He handed Anomen the biscuit. The elfling took it gratefully, for he really was very hungry. In two bites, it was gone. He looked hopefully at the Cook.

"I don't know as how eating one biscuit proves much of anything," grumbled the Cook. He pulled out another biscuit. "Let's see if you can repeat the performance."

He handed Anomen the biscuit, which went the way of its fellow.

"I begin to be persuaded," said the Cook. "Still, you will eat biscuits, yes, but I may ask whether you will eat other of my cooking. You had better come to the kitchen later tonight so that I may put you to the test."

Anomen promised that he would, and the Cook departed. A little while later, the Housemaid poked her head out the door and bade Anomen fetch Lord Elrond. Anomen went at once to Elrond's chamber, where the elf-lord and healer waited with everything in readiness. He thanked the elfling and then looked searchingly at him. "You are tired and famished, are you not? Go to the kitchen and get some supper, and then take yourself to bed."

"I have been running errands for the Housemaid," protested Anomen, who was no longer quite so hungry.

"You have done great service today, Anomen, but if you do not rest and eat properly, then I shall have two patients."

Anomen could not argue with Elrond's logic, and reluctantly he trooped off first to the kitchen and then to the room he shared with Elrohir and Elladan. His foster brothers were chagrined at having missed out on all the excitement.

"I wish we had been with you," Elrohir said enviously.

"Arwen begged and begged you to go with her," Anomen pointed out, "but you wouldn't."

Elrohir and Elladan both looked sheepish.

"Erestor says to give of ourselves is the best jóltide gift," Elladan sighed. "I wish we had followed his advice. If we had, we would have been in the forest today, and the adventure would have been ours."

"That is a very poor motive for gift-giving," Anomen said loftily. "You ought not to calculate the benefits you will receive in turn," he went on in the same virtuous vein. Before he could continue the sermon, however, he was hit from either side by pillows. After a vigorous exchange of these cushioned missiles, the three elflings at length succumbed to exhaustion and fell into a sound sleep populated by dreams of the jólasveinar.

The next morning, Anomen was the first to awake. Remembering the previous day's events, he sat up abruptly. At once he spied a puddle of milk upon the floor. Nearby were three new pairs of boots, two identical in size and one—for Anomen—slightly smaller than the others. "Elrohir! Elladan!" he exclaimed. "Giljagaur the Gully Imp has come in the night. He has left us boots!"

The twins were awake at once. "Well," grinned Elladan, "there won't be any milk for breakfast, but I don't mind."

The three elflings pulled on the boots and admired them before stomping in the puddle of milk to see whether their new footgear was waterproof. Then they marched off to breakfast, leaving in their wake a trail of milky footprints. As it turned out, there was more milk at the breakfast table, so evidently Giljagaur had not stolen it all.

After breakfast Elrohir and Elladan accompanied Arwen and Glorfindel to the forest to retrieve the jól log and choose a tree, but Anomen returned to the House of Healing to run errands. On the way he encountered Elrond, who had just visited the lady.

"How does she fare?" Anomen asked anxiously.

"Well. She is warm and rested and has taken not only broth but some foods more substantial. I feared she would lose the child, but I think if she remains in bed she will not go into labor before her time. She would like to speak to you, Anomen, to thank you for your kindness."

Anomen hurried on eagerly, for he was curious about the travelers and welcomed the chance to speak to them.

When he arrived at the sickroom, he found the door open. Within, the Man sat by the woman's bed, holding her hand and caressing it. The two smiled when Anomen appeared in the doorway.

"Welcome, master Elf," exclaimed the Man. "We are very much in your debt."

Anomen blushed a little, for he was not used to being addressed in that fashion. Self-consciously, he approached the bed. The Man gestured toward a chair. Anomen perched upon it.

"You are called Anomen?"

"Yes, master Man."

The Man laughed. "My name is Thavron."

"That is a Sindarin name," said Anomen, surprised.

"We are from Gondor. There are some in that land still familiar with the elven tongues, although the number declines with every generation."

"Your name means 'carpenter', does it not? Are you a carpenter?"

"Yes, as was my father and his father before him."

"And your name, lady?"

"Saer," the woman said softly.

Anomen was even more surprised. 'Saer' meant 'bitter'. It was an odd name.

The woman smiled at his bewilderment. "My life has been bitter and yet not so," she said wryly. "I am with child, which should be a cause for celebration, but it is this child who has caused my exile."

"I do not understand."

The Man took up the tale. "The child is not accounted as mine," he explained, "for it was conceived before our marriage was celebrated. My kinsmen commanded that I put aside Saer, for they argued that the family would be shamed by the birth of a child conceived outside of marriage. But I refused to put her aside, and for my disobedience we were driven out of Minas Tirith. We traveled first to Rohan looking for a place to settle, but the folk of that land were loath to take in a family shunned by their allies in Gondor. Then we journeyed through Dunland, but the folk there are poor and closed their doors against us. I do not blame them! They are hard put to feed their own families."

"Where will you settle, then?"

"We hear tell that there are prosperous settlements to the west of here."

"Those would be the villages of Breeland," said Anomen thoughtfully. "We trade with the Men of those settlements. I will ask my Ada to write on your behalf to the chief inhabitants. For his sake, they may find employment for you."

"Thank you," the Man said gratefully. "I hope the jólasveinar are good to you and your kin."

"They already have been," declared Anomen. "Stekkjastaur brought me a new cloak, and last night Giljagaur left me these boots."

As he spoke, he was suddenly seized with the wish that the jólasveinar might leave gifts for the child that would soon be born.

Anomen was of course old enough to understand that the gifts that materialized in his room each night were actually placed there by Elrond. He and his foster-brothers pretended not to know this, however, for playing along was great fun. Moreover, they did not wish to spoil the game for Arwen, who really did believe in the existence of the Yule lads. Now Anomen thought of a new game: creeping into Saer's room and leaving presents without her spying the gift-givers. He was sure that Elladan and Elrohir would embrace this game eagerly, for the twins delighted in any sport that required stealth and guile. Anomen grinned and excused himself, saying that he had some mistletoe to hang.

After fastening the mistletoe above the threshold to Erestor's chamber, Anomen hurried to the room he shared with the twins and began to rummage through the chest that stood in the corner of the room. This contained clothes that he and the twins had outgrown. Soon he had scattered a great many garments upon the floor. He sat cross-legged in the midst of them and held up one garment after another. Unfortunately, while too small for the elflings, they were much too large for a newborn, and Anomen wanted to offer gifts that the human family could make use of immediately upon the birth of the child.

While Anomen was thus occupied, Elladan and Elrohir returned from fetching the log and the tree.

"You have made a great mess," Elladan observed, looking about in surprise. "Why ever have you dumped out the contents of the chest?"

Elladan's amazement was justified, for Anomen was always neater than either Elladan or Elrohir.

Anomen quickly explained his idea of playing at being jólasveinar, and as he expected, Elladan and Elrohir were enthusiastic at the notion. To creep in and out without being detected, that was the sort of thing a scout did, and they longed to attain the status of scouts.

Next Anomen explained that he was at a loss as to what gifts they might give. Elladan held up a tunic, turning it about.

"You are right that it is much too big," he said thoughtfully. "Besides, it is worn here and has a stain there. But we can still make use of it."

"I don't see how," exclaimed Elrohir. "Too big, too worn, and too stained."

"Don't you remember how many nappies Arwen needed," Elladan reminded him. "Let us take the worn and stained garments that are not suitable for wearing and cut them into nappies."

Anomen and Elrohir agreed that this was a good idea. New parents would welcome nappies.

"Only," Elrohir added, speaking softly, "let us not cut up this one tunic." He held a blue garment on his lap and gently stroked it. "Nana made this tunic," he said wistfully. His fingers traced the embroidered deer that frolicked on the sleeves.

"There are plenty of garments to choose from," Anomen said quickly. "Let us set aside any that are special to you and your brother."

The three elflings sorted through the clothes, taking care to set aside any that Elladan and Elrohir wished to keep in memory of their mother. Soon they had a pile of garments that could be cut into pieces.

"But will we only give them nappies?" Elrohir asked when they were done. "Isn't there anything else we can give them?"

Anomen held up a cloak that had not been placed in the nappy pile. "We have got new cloaks, even though our old ones were in good repair. Our old cloaks are too small for the Man but would fit the woman. Let us pick the nicest one and leave that as a gift one night."

"Nappies and a cloak," said Elladan. "We have missed the first two nights of gift-giving, but eleven are left. If we leave the nappies one night and the cloak another, nine remain."

"Let us look in Arwen's chest," Elrohir suggested. "The clothes she has outgrown are so much smaller than ours. They are too large for a newborn, of course, but we could ask the Seamstress to alter them."

The elflings leaped up and pelted through corridor, agilely sidestepping the servants who bustled about with linens and towels, for it was washing day. They burst through the door of Arwen's chamber, flung open her chest, and began to rummage through it. They set aside such garments as Elladan and Elrohir knew had been sown by their nana and sorted through the rest. Soon they had a pile of tiny garments in good repair. (Arwen had been easier on her clothes than they had been on theirs!) Unconsciously, forgetting that they were meant to be warriors someday, the elflings began to ooh and ah over the little nightdresses, the tiny bonnets, and the miniature booties.

"What are you doing in my chest?" a voice demanded. Abashed, the elflings looked toward the door. There stood Arwen, clutching an evergreen branch, for she had just come from decorating the tree and had carried off a bough that had been trimmed from it.

Anomen thought quickly. It occurred to him that Arwen might eventually see the gifts that they gave the humans and so would realize that they came from Elves and not from the jólasveinar. So Arwen would have to be brought in on the secret anyway. Somehow, though, it had to be done without spoiling her belief in the Yule lads.

"The second of the jólasveinar came last night," he began. "Did he leave you anything?"

Beaming, Arwen held up a foot. Like her brothers, she had received new boots.

"But the human family received nothing," Anomen continued, "even though the woman has a little baby so close to being born that it ought to count as a child."

Arwen looked indignant. "Then why didn't Giljagaur bring them anything?" she demanded.

"I think the problem is that the jólasveinar set out before the humans arrived in Imladris. The Yule lads did not know that this family would be here and so did not know to bring them anything. Elladan, Elrohir, and I thought we would remedy the situation by pretending to be jólasveinar ourselves. We are puzzled, though, as to what would be best to give the family and the child. Here are all these clothes that you once wore as a baby, but we don't know which are the nicest." Anomen paused, looking troubled. All of a sudden, his face lit up. "Oh, I know! You could help us, Arwen!"

"Yes, please! please!" clamored Elladan and Elrohir.

"I don't know why I should help you," Arwen said severely, addressing Elladan and Elrohir, "for you wouldn't help me pick the tree and Yule log. "But I don't mind helping Anomen, and I think it would be very nice if we did bring the humans gifts in the night just as if we were jólasveinar."

Arwen sat on the floor next to the pile of clothes and picked out a pair of booties.

"These are the warmest booties, and as the baby shall be born in wintertime, warmest is best."

Anomen nodded. "I think Arwen is right," he said to Elladan and Elrohir.

"Of course I am right," Arwen said haughtily.

Behind her back, Elladan and Elrohir tried to raise their eyebrows in the fashion of their father, but Anomen sent them a warning look, and they composed themselves.

Arwen continued to sort through the clothes. In the end, she picked out two nightdresses, three tiny gowns for daywear, a little coat with matching bonnet, the booties, and three swaddling blankets.

"Now we have more than enough," Anomen said happily, "for with the nappies and the cloak we have twelve gifts and only eleven nights to distribute them!"

That night they set their plan in action. Elrohir insisted on going first. With Anomen's help, Arwen had wrapped the mittens and the booties in a paper parcel bound with a ribbon. Clutching the parcel, Elrohir crept into the chamber given over to the humans. Stealing toward a table, he laid down the parcel and then crept out again.

The next morning, Elladan was chosen to loiter in the vicinity of the chamber to learn how the humans reacted. "What is that on the table?" he heard Thavron say. "It wasn't there when we went to sleep last night."

Elladan listened to the crinkling of paper as the humans unwrapped the parcel. "How beautiful they are!" he heard Saer exclaim. "Warm, too."

Thavron laughed. "It would seem that we have been visited by one of the jólasveinar," he chuckled.

Grinning, Elladan scurried off to report on the success of their mission.

The next night was Anomen's turn to play at being a Yule lad, and the night after it was Elladan's. Alternating in this fashion, the elflings succeeded in delivering each and every gift without once waking the humans. (At least, if they did ever rouse their guests, the humans never let on.)

The morning after the final gift was delivered, the elflings sat happily at the breakfast table as their father arose to address the company, inhabitants and guests alike. "Today is the twenty-fourth day of Girithron," the elf-lord declared. "The last of the jólasveinar came during the night, like his fellows leaving gifts in his wake in requital of his mischief-making. Tomorrow is the twenty-fifth of Girithron, the day upon which we have always celebrated a great feast in honor of the renewal of the year. The shortest days of the year are in our past, and longer days are in our future. No tasks are to be performed today save those in furtherance of the feast!"

Everyone cheered, not least the elflings, who were excused from lessons that day. Instead, all the livelong day they ran errands, helping wherever there was a need. For the Cook they fetched potatoes, for the Housekeeper they fetched table linens. They polished spoons, brought in firewood, and placed candles in sconces. They carried piles of plates into the Dining Hall, and toted buckets of water into the Kitchen. As night drew on, they were exhausted but proud of their contribution to the preparations for the feast. Soon they were asleep, visions of sugar plums and other delicacies dancing in their heads.

Sometime during the night Anomen awoke. He sat up and listened carefully. Without the room, rapid footsteps passed by. For a moment the elfling was frightened. Was there really a Jólakötturinn, a giant cat who would eat naughty children? Then he shook his head. No, the Yule cat was no more real than the jólasveinar, a tale told to both frighten and delight the very young. He slipped out of bed and pulled on tunic and leggings, determined to find out the source of the noise.

Suddenly he heard a cry. As he ran in the direction from whence it came, he heard another. Following the cries, he came to the Saer and Thavron's chamber. As he stood in the hallway, the door swung open and a servant emerged carrying a basin of water. "Ah, good," she exclaimed. "You just pour this out in the garderobe, will you?" She thrust the basin into his hands and abruptly disappeared back into the chamber. Anomen looked into the basin. The water was tinged pink. 'Blood', thought Anomen, frightened anew. 'Is Saer dying? Is the baby dying?'

Anomen forced himself to walk slowly to the garderobe so that he did not spill the water. Once he had poured out the water, however, he ran back toward the chamber. In the hallway he stood anxiously listening. It sounded as if there were an animal within, panting. Again the door opened. This time the servant held a bundle of bloodstained linens. "Be a good lad and carry these to the laundry," she exclaimed. With a heavy heart, Anomen did as he was bidden.

For the third time Anomen came to stand outside the chamber. Someone within still panted. Then he heard one last cry. For a few minutes it was very quiet. A little light came into the corridor from the rising sun, and suddenly, an infant wailed. Anomen skipped a little, swinging his arms happily. Then he returned to stand by the door. It opened and Elrond looked out. "Would you like to greet a new inhabitant of Middle-earth?" he asked softly. "Oh, yes!" Anomen cried eagerly. "Do not be too loud," Elrond warned him.

Anomen tiptoed into the room. Saer looked exhausted, and the Housekeeper was wiping the sweat from her face. She smiled a little, however, when she saw Anomen, and she gestured at the cradle that stood by the bed. In it, swaddled in a blanket that Anomen himself had sneaked into the chamber, lay a sleeping infant.

"It is a boy," Thavron said, "and his name shall be Ælfgyfte."

"That means 'Elf-gift," said Elrond.

"It is not a Sindarin name like yours," observed Anomen.

"No," said Thavron. "No, it is not. But he will be raised in exile, far from Gondor, and so I thought he had better have a mannish name. Still, he is a gift from the Elves, and I want his name to show it."

"He is a jól baby," Anomen said, grinning, "born in the giving season. Yes, Ælfgyfte is a perfect name!"

"I am glad you approve," Elrond said dryly, "and now you had better go back to bed. You do not want to be too tired to enjoy tomorrow's festivities—today's festivities, I mean." For now the sun had fully risen. It shone in brightly at the casement.

Elrond bade the new parents good day. Then he took Anomen by the hand and led him from the room. The excitement over, Anomen was yawning like a baby himself.

"When you brought Saer here," Elrond said, "I was afraid that her sufferings would send her into early labor and that the baby would be born too soon—always dangerous but especially so during the cold winter months. Fortunately, Saer was able to continue pregnant nearly a fortnight. The baby has still come a little early, but his chances have improved. I believe it very likely that he will survive"

Anomen yawned again. He was not really listening. Elrond smiled and scooped him up in his arms. 'There is more than one elf-gift in this house', he said to himself. 'Or gift-elf, as the case may be'. Just then he stepped around a corner and was fetched up short by an astonishing sight. There, underneath a sprig of mistletoe, stood Erestor—kissing Idhrendí.

'Miracles and wonders', murmured Elrond to himself as he slipped back around the corner before he could be noticed by the preoccupied couple. 'Miracles and wonders!'