A Yuletide Carol
It ‘twas Yuletide Eve, and in his parlor by the fire,
Sat Merry Brandybuck, in his hole, in the Shire.
He sat contentedly, his pipe he was smoking,
Making rings in the air in which he was blowing,
He sipped some strong Brandy, as was his wont
It warmed his curls to his toes, as it slid down his throat.
The windows were passed by slow falling snow
Tumbling and twirling, the flakes fell below
The fire was crackling, the candles were lit
A perfect wintery scene, the picture did fit
Dusk was near, and so the sky darkened
The twinkling stars, the bright moon did harken
The trees were all laden with bundles of white
Reflecting the silver beams shined down that night
Crisp was the air, on the window was ice
But inside, Merry stayed cozy and nice
His pipe all out-smoked, and his eyelids heavy,
Closed them slowly, he did, that Merry.
Just entering slumber’s door, he awoke with a start
And upon hearing a crash -- pounded his heart
He did not move, and was fearful a second
Then regained his senses, it was Pippin, he reckoned
If there was clamor in the kitchen, who else could it be?
Maybe Berry, or Sam, but he doubted all three.
And so he groaned, as from his chair he did rise
Leaving the warmth of the cushions aside
And grumbled as he walked on towards the room
Whoever was there, was sure to be doomed
‘Pip!’ He hollered, ‘If that is you,’
‘I more than certainly will have a word or two!’
So he walked through the halls of Crickhollow at night,
Carrying a candle as his source of light
And when he arrived he stopped abruptly
At what he found in his kitchen cubby
It ‘twas old Father Yule in his bells, alright!
And the young Brandybuck nearly choked at the sight
But he was far too sensible, this Merry, he
And did not believe what his eyes surely did see
‘Hoi, there!’ he called, in his best brawny sound
To the jolly old elf in red suit on the ground
‘Who are you, and was ‘tis your name?
You can’t go about breaking in like a game!’
The joyful man adorned in fur rose from the ground
And when he spoke, like bells was the sound
‘Merry-lad Brandybuck, is that you, young chap?
By Havens! you’ve grown to be 4 foot and a half!’
He laughed then, so hearty, that his belly did jiggle
His head thrown back, his red nose did wiggle
His was like the spirit of Yuletide condensed, in a man, fit
Smelling of evergreens, chocolate and mint
His beard was the white of new-fallen snow
His garments of crimson seemed all a-glow
His eyes all a-twinkle, his dimples so gay
He looked then to Merry, and then he did say,
‘Now look at this! I am in such a rut!
There are no children here, I must have forgot!’
And as much as he could not believe himself sane,
Merry believed it ‘twas Father Yule when he knew Merry’s name
And before the old man could make to go,
Merry stopped him and said under his joyous gaze so:
‘Wait! Father Yule! I do think myself mad,
But if it is you truly, I know I’m quite glad,
Don’t make to leave so quickly, not now
For I’ve a favor to ask,' He said with a bow
Father Yule stood then with his hands on his hips
And a thoughtful pucker slid onto his lips
‘I’ve not much time,’ he said in thought
‘But for you lad, I would deny not,’
‘For I’ve heard of you and your kin’s great deeds,
And would offer everything in thanks at your need,’
So with that Father Yule replied,
Joy and pride shining in his deep lively eyes
To see finally some good in this world, which was in the past, dim
In the form of the hobbit that stood before him
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Merry, eyes all a-light
‘The favor I’ve to ask of you tonight,
Has to do with my little tyke, gather,
The babe’s not yet born, still in her mum, rather,’
Merry shifted position to point where his chamber was kept
To indicate in which place his wife, Estella, still slept.
‘I was wondering, dear sir, if you’d be so kind-hearted,
As to leave a gift for an angel that has not yet departed.’
Father Yule then grinned at the hobbit’s earnest intentions
And his love for the goodness of hobbits grew and stretched for dimensions
He thought fondly, Merry had not asked for anything for himself
As others might have, ones of his same wealth
But a simple trinket for his unborn nestling
Was all he had wanted, though he could have got anything
‘Young hobbit! No doubt,’ he chortled, ‘Of course!’
And those rumbled words seemed to Merry to come of a dwarf
‘Just hold but a minute!’ and the jolly one reached in his sack
And seemed to get lost in his red satin pack
But when he finally emerged he held in his glove
A silver clip that glittered like stars from above
It shimmered like silver spun from a spider
And Merry’s eyes shone as he did admire,
The fine workmanship, like from tiny hands
The specks in the silver shone like diamond sands
It seemed to emanate some soft argent light
That glimmered and glistened through the darkness of night
Specks of all colors were intertwined in metal-make
As it twisted and looped into the shape of flake
It was so lovely he could not accept,
Merry looked up at the Spirit and nodded to reject
‘I cannot, sir! It is simply too lovely, and so I must protest
It seems something too special to take on request.’
And yet again, the love for the Halflings did grow
As Father Yule witnessed the pureness in Merry’s heart so
‘Young Merry,’ he said with proud cheer in his eyes, pure
‘This is for your child more than anyone else, I am sure.’
And so he reached to the lad and in his hand placed
The silver-work spun instead of metal, like lace
‘It is made from the motes of moonbeams on high,
The crispness of cold winter air in the sky,
From flecks of holly, and specks of gold-light,
From the smiles and laughter of Yuletide delight,
From the songs of angels, voices so virginal,
And the crackling of warm, warding Yule Log kindle,
But most importantly it is wrought with love,
From the heavens to your babe, it is sent from above,
Though she shall never need the last, I can see clear,
As she surely has enough of it here.’
And without one word more, he did not longer linger
A smile on his face, Father Yule made a snap of his finger
And suddenly he seemed in an instant to become
Strewn golden confetti and essence of sugar-plumb
He was gone already before Merry could say his adieus
And there Merry stood staring, feeling rather confused!
But upon hearing the ring of bells jingling,
He dashed to the window in the parlor, stumbling,
He looked outside and the new laid snow
Looked like Haven’s blanket sent to tuck-in all below
Ole Father Yule and his sleigh rose to the sky
And Merry watched from the window the coursers climb high
Like a child he grinned at his delight
Of seeing the Spirit of Yule’s sleigh in the sky on this night!
But before he could release the enchanted chuckled within
The loud crackling of firewood suddenly started him
And opening his eyes quickly, Merry was soon to find,
That he sat still in his chair, as he had all the time!
His mind reeled, ‘Twas a dream!
He looked around waking, but one it did not seem
‘I cannot believe it!’ he thought in his mind
‘That whole event was a musing of mine!’
He looked then to the table beside his chair,
And noticed the Brandy bottle empty there,
‘That must’ve been it, then!’ He admonished himself
‘Brandy Hall’s finest made me imagine that elf!’
He chuckled despite himself, and saw the fire was dying
The hour was late, there was no denying
‘What a right jolly old dream to have dreamt, tonight of all nights!
Well, I suppose this one day was the one, to be right.’
‘A girl then,’ he mused, without real thought of will
And pulled the covers closer to keep out the chill
He was still cozy, all snug in his chair
When he realized that he held something in his hand, there
He unclenched his grip and to his surprise
A silver-shimmering gift shone before his eyes
His mouth all agape, still staring at his palm
Jingle bells outside began playing their song
And he dashed then to the window, as he had in his dream
And found that the premonition was all that it seemed,
As high up above, he fancied he saw a sleigh
While the first luster of sunlight heralded day
Sounded then was a joyful shout and he grinned ear to ear
‘Merry Yuletide to All!’ is what he did hear!