A Very Gondor Christmas

By The Last Evenstar

Chapter Two: Over the River and Through the Woods

Pippin nudged his pony on and strove to keep in stride with Merry. "Merry! Wait up!" His friend had been downtrodden and gloomy ever since his fiancée, Estella Bolger, had refused to accompany him to Gondor for Christmas.

Merry snorted. "Look at them!" He gesticulated madly at Sam and Rosie, riding side-by-side and whispering happily. "And this trip was supposed to relieve HIS gloom!"

Pippin sighed. "Look on the bright side, Merry-lad! We can relieve YOUR gloom instead!"

Merry scowled. "There would be no gloom if we hadn't come!"

Pippin looked around at the countryside path. "We must be almost halfway by now. There'll be no use turning back."

"I didn't say I wanted to turn back. In fact, there's no way I'm going back to the Shire and facing that smug little vixen!"

"Estella? Smug? VIXEN?"

The hobbit's scowl deepened. "I need to forget all about her. This better be one hell of a Christmas!"

Pippin grinned suddenly. "With you and me? Merry, old man, you forget who the Shire's best merrymakers are!"

But Merry had stopped dead in his tracks, mouth wide open. "Pippin, I do think we went the wrong way."

In front of the hobbits was a wide, gaping river, racing rapidly and churning so violently that Pippin felt his stomach turn. "That we did."

Sam and Rosie caught up and turned to Pippin accusingly. "You said you knew the way!" exclaimed Sam. "No one said nothin' to me 'bout crossin' no river!"

Pippin bit his lip guiltily. "Must've been a wrong turn," he muttered.

Rosie looked distressed, and Sam slid a comforting arm around her waist. Merry scowled at their interaction, but neither took notice. "Can you find your way back?" asked Sam.

"Perhaps," suggested Pippin, "it would be better to try and find a place to cross."

"Oh, no!" Sam almost knocked Rosie off the horse with his vehemence. "No, sir! I ain't touchin' no river, an' Rose here ain't neither!"

Merry scowled in annoyance. "Why not?"

"You know well, Meriadoc Brandybuck, how a-feared I am of water!"

"You mean you can brave the wrath of the Dark Lord and trek across Mount Doom, Sam, but not find the courage to ride a horse across shallow water?"

Sam surveyed the river. "It don't look shallow to me!"

Merry, half-crazed with anxiety and desperation, turned on his pony and galloped downstream. "Follow me!"

Pippin bit his lip and followed suit. Rosie turned to Sam. "Go on. We'll be safe atop old Bill Junior."

Sam sighed, then trotted off less than willingly. "I have a feeling we'll regret this."

"Just a short stop. I promise, Gimli!"

The dwarf was on his last nerve. "No! You elves natter about for hours, I've seen you!"

"But Gimli, we're passing right by there! I can't NOT drop in and say hello to my last remaining cousins!"

Gimli was losing patience fast. "But our agreement! We agreed NOT to go to Mirkwood! That was the whole point of COMPROMISE!"

"We won't stay there! I just want to say hello!"

Gimli closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but it was no use. "Anger management guru, bah!" He opened his eyes. "Now – Legolas? Legolas?"

"Ada! I want to do it!"

Aragorn smiled happily as he looked down at his small son. "You're too small, my boy. Only Ada can reach the top of the tree."

Eldarion screwed up his face. "I want to! I want to!"

As Arwen laughed, Aragorn looked hopelessly at the tall tree and the small boy. He gingerly picked up the child and handed him the heavy star. "Real mirthril, you know. Comes from the dwarves."

Eldarion struggled. "Heavy!"

Aragorn carefully guided his son's hand to the top of the White Tree, where he helped Eldarion secure the star. "There! You did it!"

The child clapped his hands in delight as he was carefully lowered to the ground. "Look, Naneth! Look!"

Arwen beamed at him. "It's lovely, Eldarion! To think you did it all by yourself!"

The boy smiled modestly. "Ada helped some."

As the three stood, marveling, at the shining tree, Faramir stumbled into the courtyard. "My Lord!"

Aragorn turned, unhappy that his happy family moment had been broken. "What is it, Faramir?"

"You'd better come quickly."

Aragorn raced through the halls with the Steward, arriving at last in the House of Healing. "What is it? Who is hurt?"

Inside the room, a wet, bedraggled little figure stood, wrapped in woolen blankets and sipping an herbal broth by the fire.

"Merry!" cried Aragorn. "What happened? What are you doing here?"

The hobbit faced his friend gravely. "I've made a terrible miscalculation, that's what! There's no time to lose; send men down to Entwash immediately!"

"What's wrong?"

Merry groaned and shook his head. "I tried to cross the river with Pippin, Sam, and Rosie Cotton."

"But WHY?"

"We were coming to visit you! But you know hobbits and rivers aren't meant to mix. Last I saw of Pippin and the rest, they were being washed downstream toward Rohan."

The King gasped. "Merry, that was foolish indeed! There's no hope of finding them now!"

The hobbit looked up at Aragorn with woeful eyes. "But you must! Oh, this is all my fault!"

Just then, Beregond of the Tower Guard came in. "My Lord! We have a legion of visiting elves requesting your presence!"

Aragorn stared. "Elves? You mean Elladen and Elrohir?"

"No, they arrived an hour ago! Your wife is with them now. These elves have arrived from Mirkwood in the company of Legolas Greenleaf and Gimli, Gloin's son."

Aragorn gaped. "Are they here to stay for Christmas?"

"I think so."

Aragorn groaned and headed out. "Faramir, you send men out to look for the lost hobbits. Beregond, find a place for all the elves. I am going to make eggnog! Nice, quiet, family eggnog!"

Eomer paused and reigned in his horse. "Do you hear something?"

Lothliriel, on a golden mare, strained her ears. "The noises are too high-pitched to be human. It sounds as if a horse were crying out in pain!"

The men of Rohan shuddered collectively. "A horse? In trouble? We must do something!"

As his men all rode off in the direction of the cries, Eomer turned to his wife contemplatively. "Do you know, I sometimes get the feeling they're a little obsessed."

She patted his arm reassuringly. "I wouldn't worry."

In a few moments, the men returned, dragging three wet horses and tiny bodies. "Children! Drowned in the river!"

Eomer examined them. "They're not children, and they're still breathing. I've seen these creatures before, they are halflings, or hobbits. Come, we must ride with swiftness to Minas Tirith if they are to be healed!"

"And then he bit Frodo's finger clear off and, what do you know, fell into the pit of fire!" Eldarion listen, his eyes wide. "I even wrote a song about it: Nine-Fingered Frodo and the Ring of Doom. Of course, that was backing in my hippie days. Living off the land, sing-a-longs in Rivendell, trying to find the meaning of life, that kind of thing."

"What's a hippie?" the child inquired.

"Oh, well, we called ourselves rangers. Never washed, long hair –"

"What are you telling my son?" Arwen stood in the doorway, an amused smile dancing across her lips. "Eldarion, what is your silly Ada filling your head with?"

She sat down and the little boy ran over to sit in her already-full lap. "Naneth, can I be a ranger when I grow up?"

Arwen smiled affectionately. "You're going to be a King, my little Dunadain. Just like your Ada."

"I want to be a ranger!"

Aragorn laughed heartily. "There's no getting around it, meleth, ranger is in the boy's blood."

"So long as he returns to kingship as accordingly as yourself, I do not mind." She smiled at her husband. "I once fell in love with a ranger."

Eldarion wrinkled his nose. "That won't happen to me. Bergil told me girls are yucky."

Aragorn's laughter was interrupted by Faramir's abrupt entrance. He groaned. "What is it now?"

Faramir took a deep breath. "Eomer and the Rohirrm have arrived with the missing hobbits in tow. We do not have enough room for all of our guests, and there are several already setting up tents in the dining hall. All wish for your presence. The elves profess to require a special exfoliating conditioner and are already out of shampoo. A corridor occupied by the Rohirrm I suggest you quarantine, for the smell is abominable. There are horses everywhere, for our stables are only so large. The sick hobbits have already ordered up half the Royal Kitchen. Legolas has organized a steering committee for 'Christmas Festivities'. I believe they are planning a pageant. They wish to have Lady Arwen for Mary –"

"Stop!" cried Aragorn, distressed. "Stop! What is going on here? Who invited all these people?"

"I believe the majority invited themselves, my Lord."

"Well, see how many you can get rid of! And tell Legolas that he may not plan any pageants, balls, or parties!" He slumped in despair. "This was supposed to be nice, and quiet . . ."

Arwen, seeing her husband's distress, broke in. "Why not let them stay? We'll just have a bigger party this year. And tell Legolas we'd be very grateful if he'd organize the events, but none involving myself, please."

Faramir shrugged. "My Lord?"

"What she said," Aragorn mumbled.

With Legolas as event planner and guests aplenty, what will happen to the quaint family Christmas we were all looking forward to? One tiny hint: Lots of custard!