You're My Light in the Dark
Chapter 10: Yule Festivities
Yule, we've come to learn, is the hobbit version of New Years. Much like the holiday we know and love, Yule spans two days as well: Day 1 is the last day of the year and Day 2 is the first day of the new year. "Thank God something's the same," Lauren had commented.
During the early hours the first day of Yule, we found ourselves taking Bilbo's advice to heart. Our homemade Christmas ornaments littered the den. Since this was all very last minute and we don't have the money or time to really make anything better, we were stuck making everything out of cookies, paper, and anything remotely crafty we could find around Bag End: from paper chain garlands and strung up beads, to those snowflakes we used to make in elementary school by cutting up folded paper, to a new batch of gingerbread men we strung up with twine. But it was all easy enough to make and didn't take long at all.
No, the real reason why we're up so early is because of Merry and Pippin. It's tradition for the young hobbits of Hobbiton to take a hike up to the cliff by the lake for holiday festivities. The two troublemakers, as it turns out, are on duty to supply our group's provisions this year. Apparently, they'd invited Lauren along without really explaining to her what was going on. Which left me listening to her lament her lost opportunity to sleep in as we sat by the warm hearth organizing our new ornaments into separate bags. "Seriously, though," she said, plunking down the bag of paper snowflakes with vigor, "Those bastards tricked me."
"You could've said no," I pointed out reasonably. "Besides, you three do everything together. It's understandable they thought you'd want in." Three sharp knocks sounded at the front door. We both turned at the noise. "And that's them now."
I continued loading up the garlands as carefully as I could, fully expecting her to get the door to greet her friends. Except the moment stretched between us. An uncomfortably long moment. And Lauren didn't seem in any hurry because she didn't budge an inch. "You going to get that, or what?" I asked.
She gave a nod, but held up a finger in my direction — the universal signal for wait a second — as she glanced at an old pocket watch we'd found in storage. They knocked again. And still, still Lauren didn't move. I raised an eyebrow at her. She playfully wiggled her eyebrows right back at me.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I accused.
"Immensely, sister-dearest. Immensely."
More knocking, now accompanied by choice curse words, something foreign-sounding that I couldn't really make out. Their patience finally ran dry, it seems. Only then did Lauren start making the short way to the front door — but even still she made extra effort in taking her time by slowly dragging her feet.
"Took you long enough, you twit," Merry grumbled when the door finally opened.
My sister, the pleasant person that she is, cackled with glee, relishing their discomfort with a twisted sort of satisfaction as the cousins shuffled in, rubbing the feeling back into their cold feet on the plush entrance rug and shivering into their scarves. "It's what you get for dashing my hopes of a lie-in," she said, and it was all too easy to picture the devious smile she no doubt sported. "Next time be a little more considerate when roping me into your plans."
"The markets have special hours today," Pippin explained with a frown, "Can't go any later than this if you want the good candles. Getting first pick of the candies is also excellent motivation, you know."
"And we couldn't have gone yesterday because?"
"They only sell the Yule candles today!" Merry huffed, tapping his foot impatiently, "Now you coming or not?" And in the next instant he was turning back out the door.
Buying the Yule candles was a serious business, by the looks of it, even for the two troublemakers. Even they weren't going to put up with her shenanigans today. Good for them.
Lauren, still devoid of any apology, merely shrugged, collected her coat and scarf, and followed Merry outside. Pippin, lingering in the hall, hesitated. "Do you want to come, Kat?" he asked. I had to smile at his use of Lauren's nickname for me — the nickname that only my family and close friends had ever used. He must've picked it up from her.
I shook my head. "I've still got to pack up our snacks for the day," I explained. "But thanks, Pip. Maybe just pick out a really pretty candle for me?"
He flashed a smile at that, blonde curls bobbing as he gave a nod. "Aye, will do."
Sandwiches, breads, jams. Easy stuff to put together, easy to carry. That was the idea for the day. Lucky for me, Lauren prepared the fish and coleslaw in advance, so all I had to do was put the sandwiches together and pack up the boxed lunches.
The coleslaw was as close to what we grew up with as Lauren could get it — mayonnaise doesn't exist here, after all, so she had to improvise. It's a concoction of whatever she'd found stocked in the pantry, like picked cabbage and canned carrots. It's a lot more purple and smelled tangier than it should've been, but somehow — to my continuing astonishment — she made it work. Perhaps figure skating hadn't been her true calling at all. The more time we spend here as housekeepers (and the more Lauren tries recreating recipes from home) I can't help but wonder if she would have been happier as a cook rather than an athlete, had our mother allowed it.
His footsteps were light as he entered the kitchen, but I knew from his gait that it was Frodo without turning around. He's been shuffling his feet lately. I was just finishing up as he approached, packing up the last tin, the closest thing we could find to use as a lunch box. "What's all this?" he asked, no doubt gesturing to the seven tins lined up on the counter, as I'd prepared one for each of us and our friends.
"Snacks," I replied.
He stepped up to the counter, the two of us standing shoulder to shoulder. Keen eyes drifted over my workspace. "Cabbage salad? Odd choice for Yule. But it is Merry's favorite, you know."
I gave a nod. "Pretty sure that's why Lauren made it."
Frodo bumped my shoulder lightly with his own, the two of us sharing a smirk. "She fancies him, then?"
I snapped the last tin shut as I said, "Oh yeah, big time. Not that she'll admit it. I think she's afraid of being friend-zoned, honestly — that she'll always just be seen as a friend, or that they don't really see her as a girl, since she always goes off doing unladylike things with them."
His brow furrowed at that. "Yet she still does it? Why?"
"That's just Lauren," I said simply.
"I don't understand."
I turned to him then. He was standing close enough that my arm lightly brushed against his, and being a good foot taller than me, I had to tilt my head back in order to meet his gaze. "She doesn't want to change anything about herself just to please people. It'd be living a lie."
The hypocrisy of my words gnawed at my stomach a bit. Since isn't that exactly what we've been doing these last few months? Living a lie? Trying to pretend that we're something we're not?
We have to do it, I know. But it doesn't make actually doing it, and living with the guilt, any easier.
"The consequences of her actions… she doesn't think things through, a lot of the time," I continued. "She'd much rather just be herself and let whatever happens… happen."
Frodo's expression was soft, the winter sunrise filtering in through the kitchen window accentuating the contours of his features. He lifted a hand in the small space between us, as if he was going to reach out and touch me. But he quickly changed his mind, grasping the empty air in a gentle fist and tucked the hand back in his pocket, as if thinking better of it. "To have such confidence in oneself… it is admirable."
"Sometimes," I admitted. "But it can also be foolhardy. Especially when there's a good chance it's going to come back to bite you in the ass."
He quirked one of those crooked, tight-lipped smiles of his, bobbing his head in a nod. "True," he conceded. "That might be why she fancies my cousin, to be honest, and why she gets along with him and Pippin so well. They're much the same."
"I've noticed. Not an ounce of patience between the three of them."
"Aye, too right." He paused then, his vivid blue eyes drifting over my form as he gave me a once over. "You're not wearing that out today, are you?" he asked in concern, as if only just noticing my attire.
I glanced down at the delicate, short-sleeved dress I had on, smoothing down the skirts suddenly feeling self-conscious. Between the cooking fire and the sun hitting the back of the hobbit hole, the kitchen is the warmest room in the house in the mornings. So Lauren and I prefer short sleeves most days, and slipping on sweaters as needed. Even then, though, we end up tying the sweaters around our waists more often than not once we leave the house, due to our training.
But we were also those weirdos back home who'd go around in Adidas sandals to our practices year-round, even during fierce New England snow storms… so maybe we're just freaks of nature in general, no matter where we are.
"You really don't know anything about the festival, do you?" he asked, though it seemed more rhetorical, like he was talking to himself rather than talking to me. "Sorry, I keep forgetting you're not from here."
I raised my eyebrows at him, flashing a disbelieving look. Because no matter how hard we've tried, we still act dreadfully foreign, after all.
"The festivals are so important to us in the Shire; it's difficult to imagine other hobbits not knowing about them," he explained, running a hand through his dark hair.
"It is a shame," I agreed. Despite all the background information Tolkien afforded us with his various writings about Middle Earth, some things were just not included.
Hand still ruffling at the curls at the back of his head — a motion I've seen from Bilbo on many occasions — he stooped down a bit to meet me at eye-level. "Suppose I'll just have to teach you all about them, eh?"
I couldn't help but grin. "I'd love that."
"Excellent," he beamed, clapping his hands a bit as he leaned back against the counter. "Well then, first things first. You need to dress warmly. We're going to be outside in the snow for a very long time. All day and through the night, in fact."
"All day and all night?" I echoed in surprise. "It must be some party."
His eyes glittered with mirth. "Mayhaps," he said, a hobbit amalgamation of maybe and perhaps, and I couldn't help but find it strangely endearing. Especially since his mischievous tone suggested that we really are going to have quite the night ahead of us.
"You're not going to tell me what I'm getting myself into, are you?"
Coming up to grip my shoulders, he said, "Some things are better experienced than explained." Then he spun me around toward the back hall and gave a gentle push. "Now go dress warm."
After a morning of sledding and an afternoon of "ice skating" — which to Lauren's annoyance wasn't so much skating as it was slipping and sliding around the frozen lake with nothing but our bare feet — we found ourselves parked in a trench of cleared snow beneath the party tree, enjoying our lunches as we watched the beginnings of a bonfire being built. Even the very young children were helping out, piling up as much kindling in their arms as they could possibly carry. A great deal of wood had been specifically set aside to dry out for the occasion, it seems.
A few feet over, Lauren was regaling our friends with the customs from home after they found out we'd never been to a hobbit Yule festival before.
"For New Years we do a countdown for the last minutes and seconds of the year and watch the ball drop. The ball's this enormous glass thing, all shiny, built up on a, uh… platform… that's way high in the air so everyone can see," she explained.
"Why'd you go and drop it?" Lily asked, looking a little lost.
"I dunno," Lauren said slowly, tugging on her ear in thought as if only just realizing it herself. "It was just something we did."
"So you'd break a pretty ball at the end of every year?" Sam asked, and I noted with some amusement he was eyeing our bag of handmade ornaments, as if we had a ball in there we were planning to break.
"Well, no," Lauren said with a frown, probably coming to realize this wasn't the best topic. "It was set up on this device that let it fall, but stopped it before it was anywhere near the ground so it wouldn't break."
"That's no fun," Merry commented the same time as Pippin blurted, "Then what's the point of it, then?"
My sister gave a little half-hearted shrug. "Seems a bit silly now, trying to explain it to you like this."
"I'll say," Sam muttered, the typical Shire exasperation of foreigners, all too clear in his tone. As if by doing something he didn't understand somehow made it stupid. Maybe it was. Sam set aside the rest of his lunch then, grabbed Lauren's hand and hauled her off to do proper holiday things, like helping put together the bonfire.
"Oi, we're coming too!"
And the rest of them scampered off, high on the energy of the day. They hadn't even noticed they left Frodo and me behind. He was leaning against the tree, hugging his knees tucked up to his chest with one arm, holding his sandwich with the other. "You alright?" he asked softly.
"Yeah."
Pursing his lips, he gave a nod, as if he was expecting that response. "Then why is there sadness in your eyes?" He let go of his knees a moment to brush the backs of his fingers down my cheek; a slow, gentle motion. I knew it was a gesture of comfort more than anything else. Yet it felt intimate, somehow, and I couldn't help but turn to him in surprise even as a gentle tingling shot down my spine. "Don't be minding Sam," he continued, "He has a good heart, even if he is traditional."
I shook my head against his hand. "I'm not sad," I corrected. "Not really. Just thinking about how things used to be compared to how they are now. How so much has changed." Celebrating holidays in the Shire certainly wasn't something I ever could have imagined. I pinched the inside of my forearm — again, for probably the millionth time — and the pain hit, so no, I'm still somehow not dreaming. "But I guess that's what New Years is all about, yeah? A new year brings new beginnings; new possibilities."
Frodo gave a small smile. "That is a nice sentiment," he commented, hugging his knees once more. "Bit more positive than our celebrations." Seeing my obvious confusion, as we've been laughing it up with winter activities all day, he pointed at the growing wood pile. "Yule's the darkest day of the year because it has the longest night. We keep the light burning to protect us from the darkness."
His tone… he spoke as if evil lurked in the dark. As if amidst all the cheer and good times there was much more to the festival than people let on. "Is tonight dangerous?" I asked with growing concern, not really wanting to believe the innocence and beauty of the Shire could ever be tainted.
"No," he was quick to say, sounding a little baffled by the question, "Nothing like that. You know, it's like in the Old Stories, with the lost battles and the years of darkness. Of course, most Shire hobbits don't give much credence to the Valar these days, as it's Elvish lore an' all, but our Yule customs are good evidence we believed in them enough to fight against the darkness all those years ago."
Elvish lore… he must be talking about those stories in the Silmarillion, right? I had thumbed through it once, a long time ago, not enjoying it as much as the Lord of the Rings so I didn't really give it much mind back then. Now, though? I could kick myself for not paying closer attention to it. Giving a nod, I pretended to understand what he was talking about more than I actually did.
I mean, it'd be weird for me to not know the old stories, right? I'll have to go through Bilbo's library again later.
"So the bonfire is to ward off the evil of old?"
"Aye," he murmured, and like a prayer, blue eyes fluttering closed as he continued, "May we never live to see a second reign of darkness."
Emotions caught in my throat at the thought of the coming war and the Ring of Power. At how close to home that prayer will come to play for this wonderful hobbit. I only hope we have the strength to weather it. "Amen," I said, not really knowing what else to say.
A few moments passed as a comfortable silence settled between us… that is, until Lauren came back trudging through the snow, huffing. "Finally," she said, exasperated. "Sam's a man on a mission right now, you know?"
Peeking one brilliant eye open, a smirk pulled at Frodo's lips. "He started lecturing you, didn't he?"
"Never thought there'd be an end to it. He just started going on and on and on," Lauren complained, twirling a hand about, as if she could give a physical representation to his rambles. "Is he always that preachy?"
"Preachy?"
"Does he always think he knows best?" Lauren amended, "That the way he does things just has to be better than the way you do it?"
Frodo gave a small nod, wincing through his smirk. "Aye, a bit."
"Well, that's coming to an end," Lauren said decisively, without missing a beat. Bending down to grab the bag of ornaments, she added, "He can't keep being a prick about us."
"Lauren!" I muttered low in warning.
"What?" she said, clearly not finding herself at fault. "I call 'em as I see 'em. And right now he's being a prick."
I gave a weary sigh, not feeling up to arguing with her. Frodo was glancing between the two of us uncertainly, and as his expression was more curious than disapproving, it looks like prick doesn't have quite the same meaning here as it does at home. Small miracles, I suppose.
Instead, I turned my attention to the ornaments. We'd been planning to decorate the party tree. But judging by the telltale determined glint in my sister's eyes, I could only assume she now had other plans. "Where are you going with those?"
"He wants help building the fire. Sure, I'll help," she said with forced, sarcastic cheer. "It needs a dash of foreignness, don't you think?"
I gaped at her a bit. "You're going to decorate the woodpile?"
"Damn right I am!" she called over her shoulder as she started running back into the throng.
"Oh no," I said, lamenting the loss of our peaceful day. "She's going to get lynched," I half-joked. Then I realized with horror that with hobbits' distaste for foreigners and the apparent seriousness they approach this religious festival, it might very well happen. I quickly turned to Frodo. "You guys don't do lynch mobs around here, do you?"
A troubled frown marred his features. It did nothing to calm my now growing anxiety. I was about to run after Lauren, but he grabbed my wrist and stopped me before I could go anywhere. "What horrors have you seen?" he said quietly, "To immediately think the worst? Nothing bad is going to happen."
Murmurs passed through the crowd gathered around the woodpile. I could only assume Lauren had started hanging ornaments or stuffing the paper in as kindling. Some of the younger hobbits were clapping their hands in glee.
"See?" he said in a soothing voice. "Nothing to worry about."
Then Lauren's voice shouted over the din: "Sam, shut up and have a cookie!" and Frodo bowed his head in a resigned laugh. "She can be rather brash, eh?"
"And that's why I worry," I replied.
"Point taken." He glanced down, as if only just realizing he still had a hold on my wrist. His hands are large — which is a weird sentiment, I know, seeing as hobbits are so small. But, well, I'm smaller than he is. His fingers, long and delicate compared to my rough and calloused, circled around my wrist easily. As he got to his feet, he tugged me up too. "Come along, then. You look like you need a drink after that fright. There's some spiced wine around here somewhere made special for Yule. Let's nab some before my cousins have a go at it."
And to my surprise, even as he led the way through the growing crowd, he didn't let go.
"… You can drink your fancy ales, you can drink 'em by the flagon! But the only brew for the brave and true…"
The energy of the party was simply enthralling. Jubilant. The flames of the bonfire soared high and burned with such heat it provided enough warmth for everyone despite the surprisingly large number of people present. Having been featured in the movies, this was one song I actually knew so I found myself singing along. I was arm in arm with Lily, as she had dragged me to be her dancing partner for the jig in an effort to help me learn the moves. She flashed a broad grin that I already knew the song. We stopped our twirls as we dragged out the word 'true' — the pause called for four stomps of a foot, apparently — a satisfying beat that fit all too well before the shouted climax of:
"Comes from the Green Dragon!"
Cheers erupted, those with drinks in hand downed them, and the rest of us clapped — except for Lauren, who's Angry Beaver-like WOO! could somehow be heard over the rest of the crowd. The fiddlers started up again, this time a faster tune that involved a great deal of cow bells, and Lily squealed excitedly. She grabbed my hand, just in time as everyone started singing a tongue twister — too fast for me to really catch the words — pulling us into the circle of people that had formed around the bonfire. They crossed their feet forward and behind in a grapevine of sorts as they moved to the right, circling their dance around the fire. Our arms were linked to keep the circle from getting too close to the flames, but every ten grapevines or so the hold was released to do a twirl and clap.
Caught up in the flow, I just did the best I could to keep up, laughing with Lily every time I messed up. About half-way through, with a Hey-O, the dance called for a turn around, so our backs went to the fire, and it was then I realized there'd been a larger circle behind us, dancing in the opposite direction. The two circles of dancers were now face to face, and it didn't take long to see that Lauren had ended up in the back circle, arm in arm with Merry and Pippin. These were drinking songs she's learned at work, no doubt, because she paused her singing as she saw me, flashing a crazy smile and sticking her tongue out as they passed.
As the song came to a close, the female dancers spun until the fiddles hit their final notes. A sea of heavy skirts swirled the air, and I shook my head as Lauren joined them adding her own flair — the numerous years of dance lessons making itself known in her grace — as she placed one hand on her swiveling hips and raised the other arm above her head, rolling her wrist about with waving fingers. It was all a bit provocative… and didn't go unnoticed by surrounding males. It wasn't dirty dancing by any means, but judging by hobbit male reactions, it might as well of been. I had to bite down on my tongue to stifle my laugh at Merry's startled stare in particular. That moment of wide-eyed bafflement was comical, as was the quick furrow of his brow as he realized a lot of the Green Dragon regulars around them were goggling even more than he'd been. He slung an arm around Lauren, pulling her in close to whisper something in a very conspiratorial manner. My sister allowed Merry to lead her over to the kegs, and Pippin, oblivious as always, ran after them.
Troublemakers they may be, but despite it all they truly are good guys. My sister couldn't be in better hands.
Lily, coming to a stop beside me, followed my gaze. "Pip won't give them a moment's peace, will he?"
"Nope," I returned, all grins. "How long do you think it'll take him to figure out they fancy each other?"
"Ehh," Lily shrugged, scrunching up her face in uncertainty. "Two years, mayhaps? That is, unless someone decides to outright tell him."
"Years?" I echoed dubiously as we started weaving our way back through the crowd toward the party tree, where we parked our stuff for safe keeping.
"Do not underestimate our dear Pippin and the depths of his ignorance on matters of the heart."
"My sister can be pretty forward," I argued.
Lily rolled her pretty hazel eyes before placing a bracing hand on my shoulder. "My friend, nearly every time Mrs. Brandybuck tries to find her son a what she deems a proper lass, Pippin somehow finds a way to sabotage it — unwittingly, of course. There are numerous tales of courting failures now. The last one… if I remember correctly, happened over the summer with a lass from Long Cleeve."
Long Cleeve, a town I know to be in the North Farthing, struck a particular chord in my memory. Diamond of Long Cleeve is the hobbit lass Pippin will end up marrying. I smirked a bit at the thought, wondering if Diamond was the hobbit Merry's mum tried setting him up with. Perhaps Pippin already has a crush of his own and that was the real reason for the sabotage. "What was her name?" I asked.
"Can't remember," Lily was quick to say, leaning in close as she lowered her voice all gossip-like, "But word is Pippin invited himself to a seat at the supper. Mrs. Brandybuck, she was furious as you can well imagine. But she couldn't very well tell him to leave without seeming rude in front of her guests, now could she? So she allowed him to sit at their table throughout supper and grew madder and madder as Pippin started to dominate the conversation. The lass was a North-Took, you see, so naturally Pippin felt he had to regale her with tales of the Tooks down in the Westfarthing. Oh, the earful she gave him after that! Believe you me, poor Pip's ears were bruised from her yanking him out of Brandy Hall after the lass left."
I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at the story. "Merry must've had a hand in that too."
"Mayhaps," she replied, shrugging yet again. "But I still betcha Pip won't be none the wiser for some two years yet."
I stuck a hand out in her direction. "You're on; I'll take that bet."
A smile pulling at her lips, Lily grabbed my hand and bobbed it in a shake. "You can't be tellin' him now."
"Of course not. Where'd be the fun in that?"
Dawn started to streak across the sky, marking the end of the festival. The bonfire was burning low and with a large bucket of water it was doused in an instant. Tired from the long night, it didn't take long for hobbits to collect their things and go on their way. Bag End was right across the street from the Party Fields, so we had one of the shortest commutes home. We crossed the fields, arms laden with lunch tins and candles. When we reached Bag Shot Row, Sam and Lily went one way and the rest of us — Merry and Pippin included — crossed the street, made our way up the walkway through the garden, and entered Bag End through the green front door.
Snores sounded from the den as we came in, so it didn't take long to notice that Bilbo was fast asleep on the couch. "He has a hard time staying up for Yule now," Frodo whispered in explanation. The lot of us tiptoed past the den as quiet as we could. Lauren led the way to the bedrooms, the two troublemakers in tow, while I lined what remained of our candles on the kitchen table. The candle Pippin had gotten me was quite pretty, as he promised. It was the prettiest of them all, in fact. While all the candles were bright colors, the one he got me was the only one shaped like a blooming rose. I set the rose in the middle of the table, lining up two of the plainer candles on each side.
"So what did you think of the festival?" Frodo asked.
I glanced over my shoulder at him. He'd stacked the tins on the counter and was lingering in the doorway that connected the kitchen to the back hall. His exhaustion from the all-nighter was all too clear; a drowsy blankness pulled at his features and he looked about a moment away from zoning out completely. And yet still he paused, waiting to see if I'd enjoyed myself, as if such a trivial thing was important enough to hold off going to bed a little while longer.
Really thinking about it, I had to say that was probably one of the best holidays I've ever had. I hadn't had that much fun at a holiday since… well, since dad left. Because even when we celebrated something with Jill and her family, our mother always did something to make it miserable for us.
"It was…." I trailed off when words failed me. Because the truth is, it was first real holiday we've had in nearly ten years. The sense of community at that festival was so palpable. For the first time in a long time, it felt like we were part of a family. But nothing I could say would really explain how amazing it felt, or could fully explain why in a way that he would understand. He doesn't know enough about us to really get it.
So as I made my way over to him I simply beamed, letting the excitement light up my face. "It was fantastic. Thank you for letting us join you." And without any hesitation I got on my tiptoes and threw my arms around Frodo's neck. I poured all of the joy and gratitude I'd felt that evening into that hug. Perhaps the wine had gone to my head, but it was really the only way I could think of to convey how much his time and his kindness has meant to me.
For a brief, awkward moment he stilled. Due to sleepiness or disbelief that I'd invaded his personal space, I couldn't be sure. I was about to pull back when the rigidness melted away, his body relaxing as he snaked his arms around my middle and returned the squeeze. The pungent smell of bonfire smoke lingered on his clothes and in his hair. A satisfying warmth radiated from him, despite spending countless hours dancing out in the cold. The words reverberated in his chest as he murmured, "You are quite welcome."