Lbilover’s prompt: How about Bilbo telling young Sam and Frodo about some Yuletide tradition relating to holly. He could be totally leading them on if you want.
 
 

Deck the Halls with Bows and Holi

Sam is 10, Frodo 22
Foreyule 1390 SR

Sam sat on the settee in the Bag End parlor, scribbling away on his slate with his little piece of chalk. Bilbo had assigned him spelling today and had given him a list of words he was to learn by writing them over and over again until he no longer had to look at the list for assistance. It was a rather humorous, as well as appetite-inducing, list, full of words such as ‘sticklebacks’, ‘fiddlesticks’, ‘marmalade’, and ‘confectioner’s sugar’ to name a few.

While Sam worked, Bilbo and Frodo went about the smial, decorating it for Yule. Just why they were bothering to decorate when they would be spending the Yule holiday in Buckland this year was beyond Sam’s comprehension, but he knew better than to ask such questions of his betters. As they came into the parlor and Sam went through the list one last time, his sharp memory allowing him to jot down all twenty words without once looking at the list, one question stuck in his head and no matter how much he tried to shoo it away, it kept coming back.

This was Frodo’s first real Yule at Bag End, and Sam’s first time being inside Bag End during the holidays at all, and he was amazed at some of the decorations the young master had come up with. Bows and wreaths were the norm in these parts, and his master had those aplenty. They had dragged in that potted tree to set in the corner of the parlor and tied bows on the branches; again quite normal, except for the tree being inside the smial. What wasn’t normal was that they had also put – stars above! – candles on the boughs! Sam sincerely hoped they had enough sense not to light the candles. With all these stacks of books and parchment that Bilbo kept about the smial, a fire would start right easy if one of those candles were to be tipped over. In fact – Sam glanced up for a scrutinizing peek – one candle was bending near to fall off a branch at this very moment. Sam wondered if he should fix it, though how he was to do that without placing it further into the tree or simply removing it altogether – clearly the more reasonable thing to do – he didn’t know. He wondered if maybe he should point it out, for surely that wouldn’t be overstepping himself, but just then Frodo reached down, picked up a bough of holly and began to lace it around the portraits and sconces on the wall over the mantle.

Sam sighed. Holly around sconces. Surely the Bagginses weren’t actually trying to burn down their home?

Shaking his head, he wiped his slate with a rag and ran through the list one more time, determined not to ask his question. He was doing a good job of forgetting it until he reach word seventeen, which was ‘scalawag’, when he heard the most incredible noise. He peeked up through his bangs and sure enough, there was Frodo banging nails into the wall! Forgetting his spelling altogether, Sam watched with growing incredulousness as Frodo stepped back, examined the perfectly hole-free wall, picked up another nail, placed it just so, and hammered it home with purpose and determination. Sam snuck a peek at Bilbo, but he was busy perfecting a bow of silk lace for the clock on his mantle and wasn’t paying any mind to his cousin. Sam returned his attention to Frodo as the young master continued punching holes into the wall and then – of all the wonders! – proceeded to drape the boughs of holly over the nails!

Unable to stop himself, Sam blurted out, “Why’re you doing that, Frodo? … If you don’t mind me asking,” he added hurriedly for propriety’s sake. It was bad enough that he had forgotten to call Frodo ‘Master Frodo’ yet again. Not that Frodo or Bilbo minded, but his father did and that was enough.

“What do you mean?” Frodo asked in return, thoroughly stumping Sam.

What did he mean? Sam frowned at the question. Shouldn’t that be obvious? “Why’re you hanging holly all about the hole, sir?”

Now Frodo looked at him, equally surprised and clearly thinking that the answer was what should be obvious, rather than the question. “It’s tradition,” he said. “Don’t you do this at home?”

“We don’t at that,” Sam said. He bit his tongue on his next remark – that banging holes into perfectly good walls just for hanging holly as shouldn’t be there in the first place, thus scarring the wall forever after while the holly would wither in just a few weeks, seemed a right shame – but contented himself to wait expectantly, hoping for a further explanation to his question.

“It’s a tradition in Buckland, my lads,” Bilbo said, joining the conversation now that he was finished with his bow. “Not in Hobbiton, or anywhere else in the Shire except perhaps some of the oldest branches of the Took family.”

To Sam’s growing amazement, Bilbo took over the job of draping the holly while Frodo continued around the parlor, looking for more likely places for hammering in more nails.

“Why’s that, sir?” Sam asked, watching this latest development with what he hoped was fervent curiosity rather than the confounded disbelief he actually felt. His gaffer would never believe this when he told him. Perhaps Tom and Robin had been right after all about those mad Bucklanders. Not that Frodo was mad, mind, but he had clearly picked up the odd notion or two while living amongst them, and Bilbo, bless him, was kind enough to humor the young master, even if it meant the permanent disfigurement of his once pristine walls.

“I’m not sure why,” Frodo said, attacking the last nail with a violence that seemed ill-fitting to Yule decorating. “We just do. I always assumed that everyone did the same, so I never asked.”

“You should always ask,” Bilbo said. “Never assume anything, or you’ll end up in a dragon’s lair to steal a bounty you have no hope of carrying out undetected, much less all the way home. Asking questions earlier could have save me from a rude surprise.”

Frodo grinned. “I promise that if Gandalf ever shows up out of the Blue to whisk me away on some grand adventure, I’ll ask every question I can think of first.”

“Ah, but it’s the questions you don’t think of asking that will get you in the end,” Bilbo said with a wink. “Luckily enough, however, I happen to know the answer to young Sam’s question.”

“You do?” Frodo and Sam said together. Sam inched forward in his seat with eagerness. Frodo lifted a wary eyebrow; his face was fortunately turned so that Sam couldn’t see his expression.

Bilbo winked at them both. “I do, and not from asking questions, ironically enough. The Oldbucks were friends of the Dwarves once upon a time, and more than a few of our traditions and skills come from the Dwarves, though we’ve forgotten that over the years and nearly all now believe that we’ve always known such things. The Dwarves have longer memories than we do, and it was Balin who told me all about how the tradition started while I was spending Yule in the Lonely Mountain after my Adventure. Would you like to hear about it?”

“Oh, yes please!” Sam exclaimed. He plopped down on the rug in front of Bilbo’s blue stuffed chair, where Bilbo was prone to sit while telling his stories.

Bilbo promptly slung the last bit of holly over the last nail and came to settle himself into his chair. Frodo took a seat on the rug next to Sam, his own curiosity overcoming his suspicions that he and Sam were about to be taken for larks.

Bilbo sat forward in his chair and looked down at his audience. With his usual gusto and fanfare, he launched into his story.

It started many years ago, when Hobbits still lived out in the wilds, far to the east near the Great River. There were Dwarves still living nearby in the mountains at that time as well, and even Elves could be seen from time to time coming out of their forests further down the river. The Elves and Dwarves enjoyed a strong friendship in those days, and everyone lived peacefully in their own lands, free to come and go as they wished, and helping each other whenever there was need.  

The Dwarves were ruled then by King Novi, who was said to be great and kind, but not altogether easy to please. His wife, Queen Borva, was no easier to please, for she wanted only the best for her husband. One winter when the ground was covered in snow but the skies were clear and blue, King Novi declared that he was going hunting to bring back many great beasts for roasting for the year’s end feast. He would return in time for Yule, and he wanted the Great Hall to be decorated as never before.  

That would have been simple enough, as the Great Hall had never been decorated before, so even one decorative touch would have satisfied his request, but Queen Borva balked at such lackluster imagination. She ordered bows and wreaths to be made at once, and new sconces and candelabras fashioned, and candles for them all so that the Great Hall would glow as daylight in the middle of the night.  

The queen’s maids found themselves so overwhelmed by the queen’s demands, that they sent out a cry for help from their Hobbit friends. Mistress Oldbuck was one of them, and she came to love the decorations so much that she suggested they do the same in her village as well.  

Mistress Oldbuck became fast friends with three of the queen’s maids, Noli, Toli and Boli, but the fourth maid she never met for this maid was constantly finding excuses for not being able to help. The queen needed her bath drawn, or the prince needed a new belt, or the princess needed her beard braided. It was one thing after another, and Noli, Toli and Boli were becoming quite put out by it. Mistress Oldbuck didn’t mind it at all though, for she was getting many glorious ideas and spreading them all about the Hobbit village, which had never looked so grand or beautiful. Still, Mistress Oldbuck thought that there could be something else that they could do that would really making the village magnificent. She just didn’t know what it was.  

Finally, the day came that the King’s messengers arrived and announced that the King would be returning that very night. Noli, Toli and Boli, along with Mistress Oldbuck, scurried about the hall putting up the finishing touches, and when all was finished – though still with that one thing missing – they stood back and admired their handiwork. Queen Borva came to look over the decorations and declared them satisfactory enough, which was high praise indeed from her. Mistress Oldbuck took her leave from her friends and as she was leaving, she was passed by a dwarf – male or female she couldn’t tell and never could without hearing them speak – but she was distracted from saying hello by a dwarf child who was struggling to put on his winter coat to go outside and gather firewood. Mistress Oldbuck, being the kindly and helpful hobbitess that she was, paused to help the child into his coat.  

Meanwhile, the dwarf who had passed Mistress Oldbuck went into the Great Hall. This was the queen’s fourth maid and she had come at last to lend a helping hand. “Well, then,” she said, placing hands on her hips in a bossy fashion, “what’s to do?”  

Noli, Toli and Boli rounded on their companion. “Holi!” they scolded and advanced on her so quickly that Holi didn’t have any hope of escape. They grabbed her by the arms and feet and hauled her towards the ladder that still stood against one wall.  

One of the maids’ attendants saw this and, seeking to put an end to this confrontation before things could get out of hand, dashed out of the Great Hall and shouted, “Help! They’re hanging Holi to the wall! Help!”  

Hearing this, Mistress Oldbuck’s whim alighted with joy. Holly on the walls! Why, that was it, the final piece of decoration for which she had been looking! Trusting that there were plenty of dwarves within earshot of the frantic attendant’s call, she hurried out of the mountain and dashed home, gathering boughs of holly as she went; she needed to be sure to have enough for her village before the dwarves could claim it all for themselves after all. When she reached the village, the hobbits were so delighted by this brilliant idea that they immediately stopped what they were doing to hang the boughs of holly all about the village and they all agreed that their home could not possibly look any grander or more magnificent.

“And so that is how the tradition of hanging holly came to the Oldbucks,” Bilbo finished with zeal.

Frodo bent over with laughter but Sam looked aghast. “I do hope they managed to get Holi off the wall, sir!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, never fear, my lad,” Bilbo said with a wink. “Mistress Oldbuck was quite right. There were many dwarves who heard the attendant’s call and interpreted it correctly, for they were all familiar with Holi’s slippery ways. After they gathered around to watch her being hung to the wall, they only waited an hour before helping her back down. The king was about to arrive after all.”

“I’m betting Holi wasn’t so quick to shirk her duties after that,” Frodo said.

“I wouldn’t imagine so,” Bilbo said, “but Balin didn’t say.”

An hour later, after Sam had left for Number Three, Frodo found Bilbo in the kitchen and crossed his arms. With a warm smile on his face, he shook his head and let out a huff of laughter. “You shouldn’t spin such tales, Bilbo. Sam believes them, you know.”

Bilbo looked up from his measuring spoons and eyed Frodo kindly. “Now, Frodo, would I really do such a thing?”

“You once told him Elves were at the door so you could eat the hotcakes he was saving for me.”

“A trick that would still work if you hadn’t told the lad to take the hotcakes with him next time, to offer to the Elves,” Bilbo returned. “And I did not make up that story. That is the tale that Balin told me, and if you have issues with it, you can bring them up with him if ever you should meet.”

“I plan to,” Frodo said, stepping into the kitchen to help Bilbo with the baking. “If you didn’t make him up as well.”

Their eyes met and both Bagginses dissolved into giggles. Their mirth was interrupted by a sudden thump coming from the parlor. They went to investigate and finally found the candle that had fallen out of the tree.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Frodo said, handing it to Bilbo.

“It’s tradition, Frodo,” Bilbo said and replaced the candle on its bough, ignoring Frodo’s mutters about mad Bagginses and smial fires.  

Foreyule, 1431 SR

Elanor and Frodo-lad trailed after their father, their arms heavy with the holly, which they handed up to their father as he moved around the parlor. Rose-lass, Merry-lad, Pippin-lad and wee Goldilocks were napping in their cots, allowing Rose time to make the bows. Sam glanced down at his lovely wife as she worked and felt a warmth swell up inside him. He was as happy as he could wish to be. There was just one thing missing though…

“Sam-dad?” Elanor said, glancing around the parlor. “Why exactly do we hang holly on the walls. No else in our family does.”

“Uncle Jolly says as you’ve gone mad,” Frodo-lad said, full of concern for his father’s sanity.

Sam smiled wistfully and fingered the nail holes in the parlor walls. The holes had grown somewhat larger over the years, requiring thicker nails than that first Yule so long ago. He could still see it all so clearly in his mind’s eye and hear Bilbo’s enrapturing voice as he spun his tale of Holi, the duty-shirking dwarf maiden. His smile grew into a full-blown grin.

“Well, children, I happen to know how this tradition got started. Do you want to hear all about it?”

“Yes, please!” Elanor and Frodo said, dropping their boughs and plopping down in front of the blue stuffed chair.

Sam realized then that there was nothing missing from this Yule or any other, for his memories of his masters would always be with him, and neither this smial nor he would ever forget them.

The End

GF 12/25/09

Merry Christmas, everyone!