"Tell me," Kíli said as Tauriel tucked another bright red and green branch into the large basket he carried, "What makes the holly so important for Yuletide?"
Today, they—along with many other elves of Elrond's house—were questing the snow-filled glades about Rivendell for just that tree; the boughs they gathered would later adorn the halls and pillars of the house.
Tauriel said, "The holly, ever-green even in the dead of winter, is a symbol of rebirth and life everlasting that endures through darkness into a new spring."
"That's a lovely thought for something so prickly," Kíli said as holly spines snagged on his gloves.
Tauriel laughed. "The harsh thorns and the berries red as blood signify our sorrows," she said. "But they are signs of hope, too. Those blood-red drops are the fruit from which new life grows, like grief transformed to joy."
"I like that," Kíli said. It was a fitting image for Yuletide, that celebration of light over darkness and life over death.
When they had filled the basket, they turned back towards home. Kíli found himself smiling as they walked. The fresh snow swished under his boots, and the fir branches at the bottom of the basket drifted their sharp scent up to him. He and Tauriel had been out just long enough that his cheeks were beginning to tingle delightfully, and that warm mug of wine when they returned would be perfectly welcome.
"When we get back, we should—" He turned, but Tauriel was nowhere in sight. Glancing back, he could see his own deep tracks through the snow, but no shallow elven prints beside them.
"Tauriel?" he called and set down the basket. "Taur, where did yo-aughck!"
He was showered with white, icy powder that stuck in his ears, fell inside his collar, and sifted down his shirt. In the wake of the snow, Tauriel's laughter drifted down.
"Tauriel!" He looked up to see her perched above him on a tree branch, her snowy cloak (recently emptied of its cargo) still grasped in one hand.
"You were— Oh, Kíli!" She broke off, choked by giggles.
He grinned a challenge at her. "Come down here, elf, and fight me on my own level."
She flashed him a smirk, then dropped down from the tree and ran.
Tauriel had the advantage of longer legs and lighter feet, but Kíli's powerful dwarven legs could plow through the snow nearly as fast as she could skim over it. He charged after her, and when she was just within reach, he sprang and caught her about the thighs. The snow pillowed their fall.
They tussled briefly, throwing up more clouds of frozen powder before Kíli succeeded in pinning Tauriel beneath him.
"There's snow in my shirt," he gasped. "It's melting."
She giggled breathlessly up at him, still unrepentant.
"There's only one thing that's fair." He scooped up a handful of snow and leaned closer with it as she pushed ineffectually against his chest."Unless you'd like to beg for mercy…"
"Spare me, Kíli," she said, laughter still quavering in her voice. "I concede! You win."
"Hmm…" He squinted thoughtfully at her, and his hand inched closer to her open collar. She squeaked as a few grains of snow fell on her.
One of her hands had been trapped under him; she tugged it free of the glove and brushed his cheek with warm fingers. "Kíli. I could be much sweeter to you if you don't stuff me full of snow."
"Oh?" He lifted a brow.
Catching the back of his head, she pulled him into a kiss.
"I see," Kíli said when she was done. "That is worth considering."
He dropped the snow harmlessly beside her shoulder and lowered himself to her for another round of kisses. Her skin tasted cool and clean, and her breath rose in warm little clouds that frosted his hair.
Kíli was snuggling down into the combined embrace of snow and snowy elf when Tauriel said brightly, "Look!"
He pushed himself off her and strained his head back, but he saw nothing unusual in the white-dusted weave of twigs and last year's leaves above them. "What?"
"Do you see that cluster of green?"
He followed her finger.
"Oh. Yes." He had missed it beneath the snow.
"It is mistletoe." A smile curled over her lips, which were still pink from contact with his own. "We Silvans have our own Yuletide tradition for that herb. We hang up a sprig, and those who pass under must kiss to bring blessing and abundance for the coming year."
"Do they?" He grinned. "Well, we'd better trim some to take home, too."
"Oh yes. But Kíli, it is a rustic custom that may not be familiar to these high elves west of the mountains. You and I will have to teach them how it's done."
He laughed. "Indeed we shall."
Author's note:
This scene takes place during Tauriel and Kili's honeymoon in the winter in between So Comes Snow After Fire and Spring After Winter and Sun on the Leaves.
My invented elvish symbolism of the holly actually connects to the meanings associated with holly in both pagan and Christian medieval traditions. I think Tolkien would approve.
