The voice came out of nowhere, unseen, like an order from a god. Han had wasted a bunch of time earlier talking with Luke about all the mumbo jumbo stuff the Force could do, and for a quick second he thought the Force was bossing him around. Then he realized the language was Shyriiwook.
*It is time to fix the tree.*
"Fuck off, I'm busy," Han answered without removing himself from the maintenance hatch.
*It's become tradition at this point.*
"Fete ain't for months."
*It is this month.*
"No way." Now Han did stick his head out. Chewie's furry feet were at his eye level, so he craned his neck upward until he met Chewie's blue eyes. "No way," he repeated, thinking. "Last Fete we were at that base with the series of islands, remember-"
*Yes, and that was eight months ago. We've been on Hoth almost four months.*
"Huh," Han said, chewing on his cheek. He'd been hanging around this outfit for a year? How had that happened? "Well, I can't help you, pal. I gotta get this motivator working."
*My hands are too large.*
"Get someone else. Get Luke, he's pretty good at fixing stuff."
Chewie squatted to peer gravely at Han. *You. You are my tradition.*
Han sighed.
*You built it for me.*
"Are you saying I did a crappy job?"
*You used brittle wire and sockets that rust, but I have had that tree as long as I've had you.*
"Now you're calling me rusty?"
*Never. Cheap, perhaps. I'm asking nicely. Or,* Chewie said slyly, * I'll get the Princess to order you.*
"Go ahead." Han wouldn't admit he liked that kind of threat.
"And then I'll get the gold mechanical to educate you all about Fete across the galaxy.*
That threat worked. "Keep Threepio away from me," Han growled. "Alright, alright, I'm coming." Han hoisted himself out of the maintenance hatch. "Year after year," he muttered.
Han could do without calendars and dates and basically anything that routinely occurred, even a once-a-year holiday. He'd never celebrated anything. Why should he? No one celebrated him, and he preferred the chaos of one day at a time. Until he met Chewie, who didn't let Han forget the anniversary of his release from slavery. Wouldn't you know it happened close to Fete. Han had brought him to Kasshyyk so Chewie could reunite with his family and let them know he was never coming home again because instead of a master he now had a life debt.
Wookiees loved Fete. They believed Kasshyyk was symbolic to the season, because tradition dictated that a sprig of greenery decorate a hearth as a reminder that the cold, dark days that befell most planets with axial tilt were only temporary and crops would grow again. On Kasshyyk, the weather was the same day in and day out. Kasshyyk to the galaxy was that sprig of green.
Han remained on Kasshyyk longer than he had intended. "When can we leave?" he asked Chewie so many times it probably became its own tradition.
*When I am done visiting* Chewie answered. Everyday he dragged Han to a different tree in the forest and spent hours with a friend, relative, chief, elder, crossbow maker, and so on. Basically what seemed like the entire population of Kasshyyk.
Han spent a lot of time in the trees, because he had to. And he came to appreciate them. Not in the spirit of Fete, what stood for home and promise and renewal, that kind of shit. To Han, they were like sentries. Their trunks were so wide. It took Han a couple of minutes to walk around them. And so tall. They were monuments to time and life. He felt insignificant in their presence- he often did- but next to them he didn't mind.
He never dreamed he'd spend Fete on Kasshyyk, but there he was, living with a bunch of Wookiees who gathered around a tree and sang to it. And made dolls, and clambered up in the branches and tied them to the ends of the limbs. Crazy shit.
Han was bored and he liked to be busy with his hands, so he made Chewie a fucking tree. If he'd known in advance how much the big Wook would like it, he wouldn't have done it. He sanded and coated dead limbs with a preservative, and drilled holes in the straightest, tallest trunk he could find so the limbs fit in it. He even got creative with the liquid insulator, seeing if the drips would dry fast enough to look like needles or leaves. It came out pretty good, he had to admit. He didn't mean for the thing to be practically indestructible.
Year after year, the tree came out. It usually needed a rewiring, or a replacing of the bulbs in the garland of lights he created. It was a lot of work. Chewie was a pain in the ass.
"I'm supposed to tell you something," Princess Leia approached Han as he was trying to remember how to assemble the damn tree.
"Not like you to forget," he said. He looked at her. He didn't have to; she looked the same of course. She always wore the same white snow suit but he liked the way she styled her hair.
"It's that I still don't quite understand Shyriiwook," she smiled at him, and then clasped her hands happily at her chest. "Oh, it's tree time!"
"You mean Fete time."
"Tree time. Fete for me now is... well. And Fete was only a few weeks after the Death Star and meeting you and Luke, and our first real victory. And then Chewie put up the tree... and I don't know." She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. "My new holiday."
Han nodded and resisted looking at her while she talked. She wouldn't want to know she was revealing a bit of herself. And to him, especially! She used to be all sad, a little bitter and completely closed off, but now he heard something new. She only didn't know what it was because it wasn't sad.
"This tree frustrates the hell out of me," he said. Was he being revealing? Well, he could fix that. "It'll burn nice. Warm us up."
"It'll melt the cavern and then we'll all die in an avalanche," the Princess commented with her wry humor.
He waggled his brows at her. "There are worse ways."
She scoffed at him. "You never stop. I can help," she offered, in a tone that suggested she really wanted to.
Han wasn't one to turn down a free offer of assistance, especially from one who styled her hair as pretty as that. Probably had deft, capable fingers. He'd like to see them in action. But he'd have to start with the tree.
"You're an artist, Han." Luke sounded sincere. "A real sculptor or something."
"Don't say it's priceless. 'Cause I'll sell it to you for a lot."
Luke smiled in that quiet way that said he didn't believe a word Han said. "I love the tree. I know Chewie does, too. Look at the way the lights reflect off the ice walls."
The walls did look nice, all speckled with light. Probably the best location for the galaxy's ugliest almost-artificial tree. A kriffin' ice planet. The only tree on that entire world.
"Her Lightness located two bad bulbs," Han informed Luke.
"Did you, Leia?" Luke smiled at her. "What else does Chewie do with the tree?"
"He sings at it. Probably what causes the bulbs to break each year. The glass can't handle the decibels."
They had set it up at the edge of the hangar near the corridor leading to the command center, so everyone could see it. There were a bunch of chairs around it, but right now most of the base was sleeping. Just Luke, Leia, and Han were gathered around.
"Whatever you say, Han," Luke dismissed. "I'm glad you put it up again. I didn't realize I looked forward to it, until it was here."
"Yeah," Han said. Obviously the damn tree was Luke's new holiday too. "Tell you what. Wookiees do one other thing. They make a doll. Out of some plant fronds, which we don't have."
Luke didn't let him finish. He sat up straight. "I'm in."
Han laughed. Leia said, "What could we make dolls with? Should we do snow people? There's flimsi in my office I never use-"
"I've got some socks with holes," Luke offered.
"I do, too," Han said.
"Get them," Leia ordered, and since she was a Princess and Luke was excited he stood. "And whatever for features- washers, and needle and thread, or ink-" She was still thinking and giving orders, but had begun to wander to supplies.
Han waited for them at the tree.
My traditional holiday-in-the-GFFA fic. Thank you for being here, readers. I wish you all peace in the coming year.