Author's Note: Hmm, did I write this fic for the holiday cheer, or just so I could pick on Lego some more? You be the judge. Thanks a billion and one to my green eyed kittykat, for supplying a never-ending stream of furry little plot hobbits to keep my messed up imagination going faster than Shadowfax on the plains of Rohan. Hope you enjoy. And Happy Yule, everyone!

Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned in this fic are borrowed from Prof. Tolkien and the New Line Cinema people. I am forever in their debt.

Note: Any persons who died in the trilogy, and were actually mourned, have been allowed to come back for Yule. All other events that took place other than deaths can be assumed to have still occurred. Just please disregard the death factor. Thank you.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Snow was just beginning to fall through the quiet winter forest as Legolas, son of Thranduil and prince of Mirkwood, rode into Rivendell. The last rays of the setting sun drifted through the bare trees, lending the evening a peaceful feel. The elf shook his head once, sending the flakes that had settled in his long blonde hair flying. The snow was wet and heavy, the kind that settled on pine boughs and clung to the frozen ground.

Legolas smiled as his horse rounded the last bend in the road, and the Last Homely House came into view. Imladris. Rivendell. At last. He and his companion had been riding for days, and he was anxious to get in out of the cold. Speaking of his companion... He glanced back over his shoulder at the dwarf seated behind him. Gimli had nodded off hours ago, and a thin blanket of snow had settled on his sleeping form.

The elf smirked, tempted to lead the horse over a few fallen logs and wake his friend up. But, no. That wouldn't be nice at all. "Wake up, Gimli! We're almost there. It's a lovely evening."

"It's snowing," came the gruff, sleepy answer. "How can that be lovely?"

Legolas was about to reply when the sound of singing reached his gently pointed ears. Not elvish singing, but still happy and carefree. He smiled widely. "It seems we are about to meet friends upon the road."

"What's that?" Gimli asked absently, shaking the snow off himself.

"You'll see." And soon, sure enough, over a low rise from the direction of the river, there appeared through the falling snow four little ponies loaded with four singing hobbits. Legolas urged his horse into a trot to meet them. "Hail and well met, little ones!" he said, lifting one hand to wave.

"Look, it's Gimli and Legolas!" Pippin cried, startling his sleepy little pony. The pony gave a small jump of protest that sent Pippin tumbling into the swiftly accumulating snow. "Ouch! What was that for, I'd like to know?"

"Oh, Pippin," Merry sighed, giving him a hand up.

"Hello, both of you!" Frodo laughed. "It's wonderful to see the two of you again! It's been far too long."

"Good evening, little hobbits," Gimli smiled. "Good evening and good Yule. But let us get in out of this beastly weather before we proceed with any extensive greetings." The dwarf cast a sour look at the low, dark clouds that threatened still more snow.

O.O.O.O.O

It took only a little while for the party to reach the stables. They were greeted there not by servants, as expected, but By Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond's twin sons. "Mae govannion!" they cried, nearly pulling Legolas and Gimli off their horse in their enthusiasm. "We were worried you wouldn't get here tonight, after all! Father is expecting all of you. Go on inside, we will see to your beasts."

"Bill ain't no beast," Sam protested as he dismounted. "He's a right smart little pony. And he takes offense to such names."

"We'll remember," Elladan laughed. "The best stall we have for Clever Bill. Legolas, get on indoors. We will look after Arod."

"See that you do," the blonde elf grinned, affectionately petting his mount. "Arod is a dear friend of mine, and needs the very best attentions. Isn't that right, Arod?" The horse whickered happily.

"All this fuss over the beasts." Gimli rolled his eyes. "Come, let's take their advice! A warm fire awaits us, little hobbits!" With that he started for Elrond's hall, taking his trusty axe and a good part of the baggage with him. The hobbits, with one last pat to each of their ponies, followed along behind.

"I'll come see to you in the morning, my friend." Rubbing Arod under the chin, Legolas scooped up the rest of the baggage. One of the sacks, marked with the name of Dale, he handled carefully. He smiled, imagining the hobbits' excitement when they were presented with their Yuletide gifts. It was probably an insult to give the Halflings toys for Yule, as if they were children, but still. Even Legolas had to admit that they were wonderful toys. He and Gimli had painstakingly tried them out to make sure.

"I'm going in, you two," he said, turning to the twins. "Don't be out too long."

"Would we dawdle?" Elrohir asked cheekily, pretending to shiver with the cold. "We'd much rather freeze out here than... Legolas, what's the matter?" The blonde elf had stopped short, an odd expression on his face. As the twins watched curiously, he shook his head as if to clear it, then sneezed violently. The twins began to laugh.

"Lovely sneeze, my friend," Elladan snickered. "Are you perchance allergic to your luggage? Your horse, perhaps?"

"No, no, I am not allergic to anything." Legolas sniffed, quickly running a hand under his nose. "It must just be the dust in the air. Stables are always stuffy this time of the year. See you inside." Shaking his head once more, the elf stepped out into the snowy night.

O.O.O.O.O

Inside, the fire was warm and bright. The look on Lord Elrond's face was not. He sat in one corner eyeing the newcomers, wondering for the hundredth time that day what had possessed him to allow a Yuletide celebration in his halls. One hobbit was fine. All Bilbo did was drowse by the fire and waddle to the table for meals. That did not bother Lord Elrond. What bothered Elrond Half-Elven were the four rambunctious little furry-footed buggers currently frisking by the fireside, greeting all and sundry.

"Bilbo!" Frodo cried happily, throwing his arms around the old hobbit, who was sound asleep in an old armchair by the hearth. "I missed you so much! How have you been?"

"Ah, Frodo, my lad!" Bilbo started awake, blinking like an owl. "When did you come to visit? Happy Midsummer!"

"Um, it's Yule, Bilbo."

"Little ones!" Merry and Pippin shrieked with glee as they were hoisted into the air and spun about like little curly-headed tops. They didn't mind being treated that way, as long as it was Boromir doing the hoisting. With him, a strong warrior of Gondor, there was no chance of being dropped. "It's about time you arrived."

"Been resting up a bit, have you, Mister Gandalf?" Sam asked conversationally, shaking snow off his coat.

"Oh, yes, but just a bit." The wizard smiled from his own chair, blowing a giant purple smoke ring that drifted over to hover over the soggy hobbit. "I can't seem to be able to handle doing nothing for too long, you know."

"Well, all the same, you've earned a good rest more than anybody. Oh, by the by, did you ever go visit old Tom Bombadil? We've been a'wonderin' how he's been these days. Very kind to us, he was."

And so the merry meetings went. Before long King Theoden of Rohan came in to greet the new arrivals, followed by his nephew Eomer and neice Eowyn. With them was Faramir, Boromir's younger brother and Eowyn's new husband. Eowyn and Faramir were immediately pounced by Merry and Pippin, respectively.

Shortly behind them came King Aragorn Elessar and his queen, Arwen Undomiel. They had been outdoors strolling through the birches, "Where we first met," Aragorn cooed, clasping his love's hands. She returned the doting smile, fluttering long eyelashes at her adoring husband. Legolas rolled his eyes and sneezed.

"Are ye alright, laddie?" Gimli asked over a mug of ale as the puzzled elf was forced to borrow a handkerchief from Bilbo. "I don't think I have ever seen ye sneeze before, now that I think on it."

"That's because elves do not sneeze. Often." Legolas was bewildered. He usually went for decades without a single sniffle, let alone a sneeze or cough, and tonight he had sneezed twice. "There must be quite a lot of dust in the air his evening," he mused to himself as he handed back the handkerchief.

"Maybe you're coming down with something," Gimli suggested nonchalantly.

"Pardon?" Legolas again looked confused.

"Perhaps you're getting a cold."

"But I am not cold," the elf said innocently.

Gimli narrowed his eyes at his friend. "If I did not know that you only crack jokes on dwarves, I would think you were being thick on purpose. However, since I know this is not the case, let me clarify. Are you getting sick, my friend?"

"Sick?" Legolas balked, a shocked expression on his face. "No, I am not sick! Elves are never ill!"

Gimli looked interested. "Never?"

"Never. Such a thing is absolutely unheard of. It must be the dust. It must –" His blue eyes suddenly shot open wide. He clapped panicked hands over his mouth and nose, glanced about him frantically, then ducked his head quickly under the tablecloth. From beneath Gimli heard a smothered sneeze.

The dwarf sat back, smugly swirling the remainder of his ale. "Dust. Of course it is." Not that he wished any ill to his elven comrade, but this had the very real potential of becoming interesting.

O.O.O.O.O

By the time the fire had begun to die in the grate, Legolas was moving from puzzled to worried. He had sneezed a total of eight more times, and was beginning to sniffle in earnest. Bilbo had told him to keep the handkerchief.

Finally, the elf decided that he would simply go to bed. This ridiculous sneezing would surely stop by morning, and anyway he did not need anyone else besides Gimli buying into the foolish notion that he was ill. He quickly stood up and excused himself.

"Good night, laddie," Gimli called after him, trying to hide the amusement in his voice. "Sleep well. Busy day tomorrow."

"Yes, yes," Legolas muttered as he left. He had the sneaking suspicion that the dwarf was having fun at his expense, but he didn't know quite how.

Passing the fireplace, he saw Aragorn gently lift Frodo and Sam, both of them sound asleep, presumably to take them to their beds. Arwen looked on with a smile, no doubt thinking on what a good father Aragorn would make. Merry and Pippin, seeing this, turned their big, misty eyes upon Boromir.

"Boromir, we want a ride, too!"

"Yes, give us a lift upstairs, will you?"

Boromir had been dozing in his warm chair. He stared at the two hobbits. "You must be joking." They stared right back. "Say that you're joking? Because I am not leaving this chair for any other reason than to go to my own bed." The hobbits inched closer, still staring with their large brown eyes. "What do you want from me? I'm not carrying you. You can get up the stairs yourselves!"

Legolas paused and waited just outside the room. Within two minutes Boromir emerged from the warm hall grumbling, a smiling hobbit tucked snugly under each arm. The elf sniggered. The little Halflings really did have that great big man wrapped around their tiny fingers.

A sudden sneeze interrupted his laughter. Legolas turned and ran to bed.

O.O.O.O.O

The next morning Legolas had a severe fright. He overslept.

Throwing open the curtains to a bright winter morning, he was nearly blinded by the sun reflecting off a thick white blanket of new snow. It took him a moment, as he stood rubbing his eyes, to figure out what the problem was. The sun had got up before he did. That had never happened before.

The elf ran down to the main hall in a panic, sneezing twice along the way, to find everyone just finishing a large breakfast. He forced himself to slow his pace and enter the room as if nothing were amiss, though inside he was nearly frantic. What could possibly be the matter with him, sneezing and sleeping late? He still refused to believe that he could be sick. Maybe it was something in the air. Something he had eaten or drunk?

He was still thinking it over as he slid into an empty spot at table. No one seemed to notice his late arrival but Elladan and Elrohir, who immediately took it upon themselves to comment on the fact.

"Well, look who finally decided to grace us with their presence!" Elladan laughed. "What's the matter, Leggsie? I suppose you were getting in a few extra hours of beauty sleep this morning? You vain thing!" Elrohir sniggered.

Legolas arched his blonde eyebrows and gave the twins The Look. "I happened to be wide awake, thank you." A lie. "I was simply not hungry." Another lie. "I was at my window admiring the morning and decided to come down a bit later than usual." And a half-truth. It is truly amazing to watch what lengths elves will go to preserve their image. Legolas selected a biscuit from the basket in front of him and nibbled it unconcernedly, to prove his point.

"Oh." Elrohir, infinitely the more trusting of the two, offered Legolas a cup. "Would you like some tea with your biscuit, then? Something light and hot? Ouch!" Elladan had thumped his naive twin on the head. "What was that for?"

"For being a fool, you little...fool! It's completely obvious that he's lying! Hey, where did he go?"

Legolas crawled away under the table, sniffling. It was obvious that Elladan, at least, was on to him. Popping up beside Gimli, he took another biscuit. "Good morning, mellon nin. Pass the jam."

"Good morning, laddie. I was wondering when you were going to wake up." The dwarf considered strawberry, apple, and peach jam before pushing all three toward his tardy companion. "I was about to wake you, but you seemed to be sleeping so well..."

Legolas' eyes narrowed as he missed the biscuit and spread jam on his hand by mistake. "You were in my room?"

"Clutching a giant snowball, with wickedness in my heart, yes." Gimli smiled, an evil gleam in his beady little dwarf eyes. He had been mere seconds away from pelting the slumbering elf with a very rude awakening. Had he been left to his own devices, the whole of Imladris likely would have heard Legolas scream.

"Alright, I will ask." Legolas borrowed the dwarf's napkin to wipe off his be-jammed hand. "What stopped you?"

"Masters Baggins and Gamgee."

"Remind me to thank them, for they have done a noble deed this morning, preventing the terrorizing of innocent, sleeping elves by devious little dwarves!" Legolas bit into his biscuit with a huff.

Down the table, the hobbits had already finished their breakfast. "It's snowing again, Merry!" Pippin squealed, bouncing up and down by the window on his furry little feet. "Let's go outside!"

"Oh, Pip, no. It's freezing out there." Merry didn't look too happy at the prospect of leaving the warmth of the hall, let alone all the extra food that was still on the table. He was vaguely surprised that Pippin would leave the food voluntarily.

"It isn't that cold, just enough to turn the rain to snow. Let's go out and play!" The younger hobbit grabbed his coat and scarf and started for the door.

"Why should we?" Merry yawned, nibbling the last of a toasted apple.

"Because," Pippin answered, "when we come back inside the ale, wine, and hot cider will taste that much the better. Frodo, Sam! Come on, we're going out to play in the snow. With or without the Brandybuck!"

"No, wait for me!" Merry tossed away the apple core and threw on his own coat. "I changed my mind! Lead me to the snow!"

O.O.O.O.O

Elladan and Elrohir were the first to realize where the hobbits had gone. Despite the somewhat disapproving looks they were getting from their father, the twins had joined the four little Halflings in the snow, laughing as they skated and slid about on the frozen pond. "Kids," Elrond muttered, shaking is head. "No sense of propriety."

Aragorn and Arwen wandered out next, more than ready for a little outdoor frolic on such a fine day. They strolled around the pond arm in arm, gazing at the silent beauty of a winter's morn. Well, silent but for the shrieks of laughter from the hobbits and elf twins.

Aragorn was never sure what made him ignore the rustling in the snow-covered bushes. Perhaps it was the distraction of holding his one true love close in the chilly air, or watching the impromptu hobbit and elf ballet on the frozen pond, but the bushes remained unnoticed. Until, quite suddenly, King Elessar found himself face down in the snow, dazedly wondering what had hit him. They had been ambushed – not by orcs, but by Boromir, who had taken advantage of the golden opportunity to pelt his arch rival with a full dozen snowballs.

"What happened, darling?" Arwen asked sweetly, trying not to laugh as she bent down to check her husband.

Aragorn sheepishly shook himself off. "The Ranger was caught off his guard?"

"Victory is mine!" Boromir yelled, leaping out of the bushes with a long stick for a sword and a pile of snowballs balanced on his round shield.

Aragorn quickly stepped in front of his wife. "Fear not, my darling, for I shall defend thee!" He quickly selected his own stick and charged out to meet the assault.

Arwen vaguely wondered if maybe they had both had a little too much to drink a little too early. Still, it was very amusing to watch her kingly husband grappling in the snow like a boy out skipping his daily lessons. Kneeling gracefully, the Evenstar began to shape her own snowballs. She was soon joined unexpectedly by Eowyn, and the two began to form their battle strategies along with their snowy ammunition.

"Brother! A little help, please!" Boromir called as Aragorn caught him in a headlock and washed his face with a handful of snow.

Faramir, who had been watching his wife playing in the snow with Arwen, turned to his elder brother. He blinked. "But... I cannot fight against my king."

Boromir threw his arms open wide. "Faramir! We're talking about your own brother, here! Who are you going to aid, me or him?"

Faramir considered, before charging forward with his own stick upraised. "To the King!" Together he and Aragorn pounced, bearing Boromir headfirst into a snowdrift beneath their combined weight.

"Traitor! Traitor!" Boromir's howl would have been quite chilling, was it not somewhat muffled under the snow.

"Come on, Gimli!" Legolas laughed, running lightly down the steps into the snow. He had apparently already forgotten what the dwarf had tried to do to him mere hours before. "We're missing all the fun!"

Gimli stood stoically on the top step, reluctant to venture out into what he considered the frozen wastes. "I don't know, laddie. Are you sure you feel well enough? Maybe it's not such a good idea, eh? Could aggravate your condition– wait, no! What are you doing?"

"I... am... not... sick!" With that Legolas hoisted the dwarf and deposited him up to the neck in a snow bank. "There. Now doesn't playing in the snow make you feel all good and warm and fuzzy inside?"

"It makes me feel good and cold everywhere," Gimli observed, twitching snow out of his moustache. "Now what are you doing?" Legolas was patting the snow into shape all around him. He found two dead branches and wedged them into the snow on either side of the stuck dwarf. Gimli's eyes narrowed with realization. "Are you making me into a snowman?"

"No, of course not." The elf wrapped Faramir's discarded scarf around his friend's neck and placed a row of rock buttons down the front of the mound. "I am making you into a snow dwarf. Or perhaps a snow troll."

"That's not even remotely funny! Aragorn! Hobbits! Anyone! Get me out of here!" As Gimli struggled to free himself, Legolas bounded away giggling to join Elladan and Elrohir on the pond. And if his throat was beginning to hurt just the least bit, he firmly ignored it.

Across the way, Eomer had joined the wrestling match on Boromir's behalf. Elrond, Gandalf, and Theoden stood beneath the relative shelter of an old bare willow tree, watching the fun as Eomer flying tackled Aragorn and Boromir proceeded to sit on Faramir the Traitor. Faramir squalled accordingly. "Get off me, you great ox!" Boromir only laughed.

"Ah, the boundless energy of youth," Gandalf smiled, leaning on his staff.

Elrond pulled a wry face. "Quite."

"Oh, what's the matter, Elrond?" Theoden laughed. "Its Yule. Loosen up. Have a little fun!" The King of Rohan clapped a massive hand on the Elf Lord's shoulder, nearly making his knees buckle.

"Yes, well," Elrond gasped, staggering under the weight of the blow, "I always did think it prudent to leave the gaiety to ones younger and more –" Further words were halted as a snowball found it's mark directly in the center of his face. Theoden and Gandalf stared. "Alright, who threw that?" Elrond yelled angrily, wiping slush off his nose.

Merry and Pippin scuttled away under cover of some smaller willows, laughing fit to burst.

"I might have known." Elrond glared after them, trying to decide whether or not it was worth the effort to track them down for punishment. "Even the two of you should know better! I have never in my life– "

SPLAT!

Elrond whirled around in time to see Frodo and Sam scamper away behind a hedge after throwing the snowball that had hit the Lord of Rivendell dead center in one pointed ear. Ah, yes. He had foolishly forgotten that when one hobbit appears, more will come out of nowhere. Like wood lice, Elrond thought. "Frodo Baggins!" he gasped, digging snow out of his ear. "I would have thought that you, of all people, would have the sense not to participate in such a foolish–"

SPLAT!

Grabbing the back of his head Elrond whirled again. "Do not think I did not see that, Legolas Greenleaf! Don't you bother acting innocent, princeling! Just wait until your father hears what a poor example you are– "

SPLAT!

Elrond jumped, grabbing the offended area. "Alright, someone's going to pay for that one!" He glared around at the merrymakers, searching for the culprit of the fourth snowball while brushing at the damp spot it had made on the seat of his robes. "That was simply immature and– Arwen! It was you, wasn't it, young lady? Yes, it was, I can tell by the look on your face!"

Arwen stepped playfully behind her husband, hiding from her irate father while shaking snow off her rabbit fur gloves. Aragorn was trying desperately not to laugh.

"Aragorn," Elrond threatened menacingly, "if you so much as giggle at this blatant display of insubordination I swear to you that I will take that stick from you and beat you with it! What? You think I'm joking? Well you may be king of Gondor little mister but you are still my child and I– "

Aragorn finally broke down, laughing until it hurt.

"Don't you mock me, Estel!"

This time it was Aragorn's turn to hide behind Arwen as Elrond, a grim expression in place, began to march toward him. And unlike his wife, Aragorn was seriously in need of protection. Elladan and Elrohir howled with mirth at their foster brother's predicament, nearly tripping over each other on the ice. Some loving siblings, Aragorn thought, making a break for it.

"Get back here, Estel!"

O.O.O.O.O

The chasing of Aragorn, and the exuberant frolicking of the others, lasted for several hours. However, just when Aragorn was sure he couldn't run another step, and just when Elrond was getting concerned that he wouldn't be able to follow up on his threat of a beating when he caught his foster child, Pippin brought playtime to a close. "Lunch is ready!" the little hobbit squealed, narrowly ducking a snowball sent his way by Frodo.

"What?" Sam shook his wooly head, sending snow in all directions. "How can you tell?"

"I think he can smell it," Merry answered, plucking ice balls off his collar. "He's a dead ringer for a tracking hound whenever food's concerned. If he says lunch, then there is lunch. And not a moment too soon! I'm half frozen!"

Everyone else seemed to agree. In moments, everyone was headed back to the hall, shaking snow and ice and cold water out of hats and cloaks and hair. Eomer and the brothers of Gondor, in particular, were plastered from head to toe in snow and ice. They moved rather awkwardly down the hill, as if they could not quite feel their lower limbs. Which, truth be told, was probably the case.

"Come along, little hobbits," Gimli said, walking up next to them with an old sled that Arwen and Eowyn had found and been playing with. "Rest your wee furry feet. Free passage inside to the table!"

"Whoot! Bonus ride!" Pippin yelled, leaping aboard. The other three hobbits soon followed, and the dwarf trotted for the warmth of the hall with surprising speed, accompanied by the cheers of his pint-sized passengers. Only Elladan and Elrohir did not grin as they went whizzing by.

"Hey, Ro?"

"Yes, Dan?"

"That was our sled, wasn't it?"

"I think so. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Elladan nodded emphatically. "I am. The dwarf owes us a ride."

Gimli was humming happily as he pulled up beside Boromir and Aragorn on the path. He took some comfort from the fact that, though he himself was rather cold, the King and warrior looked positively blue. "Hello, gentlemen. I see you're receiving your just desserts for romping in the snow like younglings?"

"And I see that you are playing pony for the little ones," Boromir grinned sweetly through the snow clinging to his hair and beard. "How nice of you. So, do tell me, when Aragorn and Arwen's child arrives, will you be called Uncle Gim-Gims from then on?"

"What? Absolutely not! I would never allow such a thing!" Gimli appeared quite offended until the hobbits giggled from behind him. "Er... I suppose that maybe... oh dear. Aragorn?"

"Yes?"

The dwarf indicated the sled of hobbits behind them and his position as ride giver. "Um, well... you know. Don't tell the elf?"

"But of course. We wouldn't dream of it." Swapping grins, the former Ranger and his Gondorian friend hurried on to the hall and the food and fire within. It seemed that the dwarf had yet to notice his fifth passenger; Legolas, crouched happily on the sled directly behind Frodo. He had been there for a good three minutes, and he probably would have secured transportation all the way back to the hall had a sudden, violent sneeze not given him away.

O.O.O.O.O

Minutes later Legolas staggered into the hall wondering what had gone wrong. One moment he had been sitting pretty on the sled without a care in the world, firmly ignoring his sore throat, and the next he felt as if he had been stepped on by an oliphant, tossed into the River Anduin, and left for dead. He was cold, and wet, and sore all over. His head ached, his throat hurt worse than ever, and his usually sensitive pointy elf ears were numb. He was sneezing, sniffling, shivering, and beginning to cough.

I suppose it all comes, he thought pitifully, from being tossed headfirst into a pile of snow by an irate dwarf. Oh, Valar, I'm sick! I need to dry off... I need to get warm... I need to go to bed.

But first, he would grab a bite to eat. It would be foolish to ignore a hot lunch already set out in front of him, and he had after all missed breakfast. Trying to act natural, he took his seat between Gimli and Sam. A sip of wine was a mistake. It burned his throat and made him splutter uncharacteristically.

"Are you alright there, mister Legolas?" Sam asked, concerned.

"Ah, yes, I'm fine." The embarrassed elf tried in vain to wipe away the stain the wine had left on his shirt. Stupid throat, he thought mutinously.

"Are you sure? You don't look so well. Are you feelin' poorly?"

"No! No, I am perfectly fine, thank you for asking, Master Samwise."

"He's sick," Gimli put in loudly over Sam's shoulder. Legolas felt the immediate and intense desire to smite the nosey dwarf right across his pointy head. Foolish little mud-bunny always messing about in business that didn't concern him in the slightest... His intimidating elf-glare was somewhat offset by another loud sneeze.

Sam clucked in disapproval and began to ladle up a mug of hot soup. "Well if that's so, Mister Legolas, then you had no business goin' out in the snow – if you'll pardon my sayin' so. Nothin' makes a cold worse than ignorin' it. Now you just drink some o' this soup and relax. You'll feel better in no time."

"Well..." Legolas reluctantly accepted the mug. "Alright. Maybe I do feel a bit off today." Settling back in his chair the elf prince sipped at his soup and let his mind wander. It was surprisingly easy. Seated directly across the table from him were Merry and Pippin, enjoying what was obviously their first experience with a fruit that Aragorn called "oranges," acquired in a bundle of gifts from a southern nation that wanted to be on good terms with the new king.

"Merry, it's like eating sunshine!" Pippin marveled, nibbling curiously at the new delicacy.

"Um, Pippin?" Boromir kindly reached over and took the fruit from him. "It's not like an apple. You're supposed to peel it first."

"Oh."

"Here, you roll it on the table like this, and then..."

Legolas smiled around the rim of his mug, watching the two hobbits with their treat. Once the fruit was eaten, they began to flick pieces of the fragrant orange rind at Faramir. Boromir would later attest, while grinning broadly, that he had nothing to do with the fragments of sticky fruit peel in his little brother's hair.

"Hmm. I suppose Halflings are a bit cute, after all," remarked a voice from directly beside Legolas' ear.

"Oh, yes," the elf replied dreamily, half asleep. "Like curious little puppies, aren't they, Haldir?" Suddenly Legolas' eyes popped open. "Haldir! What– how– why– when–?"

The other elf smirked as the flabbergasted prince nearly spilled the remnants of his soup all over himself. "Surprise, cousin. Merry Yule. Oh, come now, master Dwarf, don't look so upset." Gimli was looking severely put out at his appearance.

"Haldir," Legolas finally managed to choke out, "what are you doing here? When did you arrive?" His blue eyes suddenly narrowed. "Does Lord Celeborn know you are gone?"

In answer Haldir pointed down the length of the table toward Elrond's seat. Standing beside him were Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel, already deep in conversation. This time Gimli looked delighted at seeing the lady he so admired. Legolas knew he still carried with him her hair carefully wrapped in a pocket handkerchief. Sad, but still kind of sweet.

"They decided to come for a visit," Haldir explained with a shrug. "I was selected to accompany them. Lady Galadriel said something about me needing to get out more. I did not understand what she meant, but it is nice to have a break from patrolling."

Legolas hid a grin. He knew exactly what Galadriel meant. "How long are you going to stay?"

"I know not. For the holiday, surely, but after that–" A loud trio of happy screams from down the table interrupted Haldir. He winced. "Did I forget to mention that Rumil came along as well?"

Moments later the young elf in question was rushed by between Elladan and Elrohir, heading off to who knew where. Legolas was willing to bet nothing good could come of it, when those three were together. "Ah, yes. I had almost forgotten what good friends your little brother is with the Terrible Twins of Imladris. Well, you had better sit down and have some lunch. I suggest the soup, it's quite deli... delici... a-choo!"

Haldir raised a brow. "Bless you."

Legolas wiped his nose miserably, eyes watering. "Thank you."

"I think you had better go right to bed and rest, Mister Legolas," Sam said firmly, getting up from the table. "You'll be wantin' to feel your best for the feast tonight. Don't worry, I can come an' wake you when it's time, if you'd like."

"Thank you, Sam." Gratefully, Legolas too got up and prepared to seek out his room.

A look of horror in his eyes, Haldir stepped frantically away. "You're sick? By the Valar, that's just unnatural! Aiee, you're contaminated! Stay away from me!" Haldir frantically turned to make an escape, but ran straight into Aragorn's open arms.

"Haldir! Mae govannion, mellon nin!" And with that the former Ranger enveloped his elf friend in an enormous bear hug.

"Aiiieee! No touching! Release me!"

Legolas left the hall with a grim smile on his face. Seeing Haldir panic, thrash, kick, and scream due to his phobic reaction of human contact was almost enough to make him feel better. As it was, he fell asleep with a tiny smile on his face.

O.O.O.O.O

True to his word, Sam woke Legolas later that evening, just at dusk. Frodo came along as well, and the two hobbits bounced up and down lightly on the bed until the sleepy elf agreed to come down to dinner. Though he would not admit it, Legolas was much refreshed, and it was with a spring in his step that he reentered the hall.

The first thing that caught his eye as he came in, however, was not the laden tables, the brightly burning fireplace surrounded by laughing friends, or even Gimli making a fool of himself to the childlike delight of Lady Galadriel. The object that first caught the attention of Mirkwood's youngest prince was a large fir tree in one corner of the hall. It was all rather strange that a living tree should have been brought indoors, but oddest of all was the fact that the boughs of the tree had been covered with tiny lighted candles.

"What is that?" Legolas asked the hobbits, pointing at the tree.

Frodo blinked up at him innocently. "It's a pine."

Legolas laughed before he could stop himself. "Yes, Frodo, I know what kind of tree it is. I mean what is it doing in the hall, and why is it decorated so?"

Sam shrugged. "You'll have to be askin' Mister Haldir about that. He's the one as went an' fetched it in." He looked sideways at the tree and muttered under his breath, "And it's a right big fire hazard if ever I saw one, so it is."

Legolas' curiosity would not let the matter be, and at the hobbits' advice he found Haldir at table. When questioned, the March Warden appeared not to know whether to sigh or laugh. "It is a bit of a tradition in Lorien," he explained to Legolas. "The Lady loves to have a fir tree brought in from outside the forest every winter. The candles warm the tree and make the scent of pine stronger. We have no real winter in our land, so it is nice to be able to smell the tree and think of snow and bright stars."

"But you cut down a living tree!" Legolas exclaimed.

Haldir winced. "And therein lies the problem. No one wants to cut one that still lives, so we have to find a tree that has already been brought down. Every year we have to leave the forest and search for a naturally deceased tree. While you slept, Rumil, the twins, and I spent the entire afternoon looking for a tree that had already fallen. We got lucky with this one; the beavers near Lord Elrond's river did the job for us."

"I see." Legolas looked at the tree in a new light. Now that he thought on it, the hall, usually stuffy in the winter, did smell very fresh, and the many little candles that decked the pine did make the rather dark room much brighter and more cheerful. "It is lovely. You did a wonderful job."

Haldir looked pleased. "Thank you. Now would you mind stepping back? My personal space is being contaminated."

Cheerful mood shattered, Legolas sulked off to find more tolerant company as Lord Elrond, silver circlet in place, called the Yuletide celebration officially to commence. Everyone quickly gathered around the table and began to load their plates, laughing and chattering gaily. The unhappy prince hoped they all caught his foolish cold, and serve them right.

"What ails ye, laddie?" Gimli asked, helping himself to a portion of freshly hunted venison. "Still feeling poorly?"

"Feeling uncharitable toward a certain March Warden," Legolas grumbled, seizing a biscuit smothered in butter and honey. "Yule is a time of thanksgiving, caring, and brotherhood, is it not? He acts as if I am turning into an orc, or something like."

"Pay that uppity tree lover no mind," the dwarf advised comfortingly as he drowned his plate in hot gravy. "I doubt that little arrow-whittling ninny could cope if he fell ill. He's just not as tough as you are, my friend."

Absurdly pleased, Legolas helped himself to another biscuit with extra honey, and the next sneeze that he buried in his sleeve seemed a veritable badge of strength and courage. Gimli hid a smile in his ample beard, confident that the matter had been settled. Legolas could now recover with a soul unburdened. Or so the dwarf hoped.

Across the way, Bilbo was, surprisingly enough, awake and joining the celebration. "Merry Yule, little rascals," he smiled, handing Merry and Pippin their gifts: a new pipe each, inlaid with gold. "I made them myself, only the elves did the gold bits. Hush now, don't tell little Frodo I gave you your presents early; he would pout so."

"Thank you, Bilbo!" they both cried.

"Now, why don't you both give us a song? Go on, something cheerful for the holiday."

"'Deck the Halls,' Merry!" Pippin squealed, tucking away his new pipe. "We're in a hall now! It's perfect!"

"Alright," Merry laughed. "On three, then!"

As the hobbits broke into the merry tune, everyone turned to look. Sam and Frodo cheerfully joined in. By the second verse, even those who had never heard the song had learned the chorus and were singing along with varying degrees of talent, but more than enough enthusiasm. When the song was done, it was immediately called that the hobbits repeat it.

"We'll do it," Pippin grinned mischievously, "but only if the rest of you sing too!" It was unanimously agreed. "Well alright then! Take it away, Merry! Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa - la - la - la - la, la - la - la - la! 'Tis the season to be jolly, fa - la - la - la - la, la - la - la - la!"

Boromir hummed happily along as he made his way back to his chair by the fire, a heaped plate in one hand and a full cup of wine in the other. Yule had always been his favorite time of year. Therefore, he was not paying as much attention as he could have as he passed by his brother Faramir. His heavy boots scuffling along the stone floor just caught the hem of Faramir's cloak, flipping the end of the garment lightly onto the hearth. It lay there atop a glowing coal, gently smoldering, as Boromir returned to his seat.

They party continued to sing gaily, heedless of the brewing disaster. All, that is, except Pippin. The young hobbit suddenly ceased to sing. As the song progressed without him he stared blankly as the bottom hem of Faramir's cloak caught flame, eyes widening farther and farther.

"... la - la - la - la, la - la - la - la!" Merry sang exuberantly. He suddenly noticed that his cousin had stopped singing. "Come on, Pippin, sing along!" He began to clap the beat, hoping to entice Pippin to join him in a jig. "See the blazing yule before us, fa–"

"–ramir, you're on FIRE!" Pippin screamed, suddenly finding his voice at last.

"What?" Faramir glanced down, a startled look on his face. His eyes bulged as he caught sight of the flames creeping up his cloak. "Aaaahh! No, Daddy, no!" he screamed. "Please don't set me on fire, Daddy! AAAAHHH!"

Everyone stood in shock and amazement as the young warrior of Gondor leapt to his feet, screaming and slapping frantically at his cloak with a glazed, terrified light in his eyes.

Aragorn was the first to break the silence. "Boromir, you twit," he yelled accusingly, "you kicked his cape in the fire!"

Boromir stood aghast. "No I did not! I did no such thing!"

"It must have been you! I wondered what that 'fwap' sound was when you passed by! Why don't you look where you're going, you big oaf?!"

Faramir continued to scream and flail, the flames now passing his knees.

"Sweetheart!" Eowyn called helplessly, unable to get near her flaming, thrashing husband. "Sweetheart, you must calm down!"

"Faramir, take the cloak off!" Merry yelled.

"Stop, drop, and roll!" Frodo called helpfully.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Boromir cried pitifully, trying to stomp out the burning cloak. "I didn't mean it, Faramir, honest! It was all a horrible accident, I swear!"

By now the entire hall was in an uproar. Interestingly enough, however, no one seemed to be doing anything to help Faramir. Gandalf shook his head in disgust. "Silence! Calm yourselves!" he cried, but was ignored.

Of a sudden, in the midst of the turmoil, Pippin had a thought. "I'll help you, Faramir!" he cried. Seizing the nearest bowl of punch off the table, he threw its entire contents over Faramir's back. The flames died momentarily, to the relief of all, but a second later blazed up higher than ever.

Faramir let out a bloodcurdling shriek. "EEEE–YAAAAHHH!"

"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf raged. "Alcohol is flammable! Faramir, BE STILL!"

A tremendous crack echoed around the suddenly silent hall as the wizard's staff connected sharply with Faramir's forehead. The young man immediately fell to the floor, stunned, on top of the burning cloak. The flames sputtered beneath him and went out. Gandalf, quick as lightning, pulled off his own white cloak and patted the fallen warrior down, just in case.

The entire hall was silent as the grave. The fire popped. Eowyn's shoes clacked on the stones as she gathered her wits and rushed to her husband's side. Faramir, unconscious on the floor, continued to smoke. King Theoden coughed awkwardly. Eomer sniggered. Lord Celeborn looked shocked. Lord Elrond just looked amused.

"Eh, what's all this, then?" Bilbo yawned slowly and opened one eye. "Did I miss something?"

Legolas sneezed.

O.O.O.O.O

"Only the cloak was aflame," Lord Elrond sighed some time later, packing away his healing supplies. "He has no injuries. Well, except for..." The elf lord shot a look at Gandalf, who had been waiting at the door to the healers' hall, along with half the population of Rivendell. Gandalf began to whistle innocently, tucking his staff away out of sight.

Elrond smirked. "I have bandaged his head and treated him for shock. For in shock he will surely be when he awakes."

"Poor darling," Eowyn crooned, stroking her unconscious husband's hair around the bandage. "He's still so deathly afraid of fire..." Pippin, seated on the bed next to Faramir, nodded sympathetically.

"I think we should leave him in peace," Elrond suggested pointedly, scooping the hobbit off the bed and away from the patient. There was no way on Middle-Earth he would purposefully allow the little furry-footed troublemaker to remain in the infirmary. "Lady Eowyn, you may of course remain, if you wish. When he wakes he may require some reassurance that he is not to be roasted alive."

"Thank you, my lord." Eowyn bowed her head slightly. "I shall stay for a while yet. Oh, please don't look so glum, Pippin. Perhaps you and Merry could go back to the feast and find some of the candied nuts that Faramir likes so much. I'm sure that would make him feel much better."

"Aye, my lady." Merry gave her a smile and a salute before shepherding his younger cousin out of the room. "Come on Pip, we'll get those nuts right quick and be back by the time he wakes up. I think I know where there are some on the table, now that I think on it." Pippin, significantly happier, followed the older hobbit without question.

"Go on, back to the feast, everyone. He's going to be fine." Aragorn waved away the lingering spectators, a slight feeling of unease suddenly making itself known. Elladan, Elrohir, and Rumil were nowhere to be found. The three young elves should have been all over a catastrophe like this. A shadow and a threat began to grow on the King's mind. "Um, come on, everyone out."

"I really am sorry," Boromir said for the thirtieth time as Aragorn gave him a nudge toward the door. "You'll tell him that, won't you, when he wakes up? That I'm sorry? Because I really am, you know – oof!"

"Boromir, just go." Unamused, Aragorn shoved him out the door. He turned to smile charmingly at Faramir's worried bride. "Good luck, Eowyn. You'll need it, with that kind of psychological trauma on your hands." Grabbing Boromir by the back of his shirt, Aragorn drug him away. "Let's go, you. We've got some errant elves to find."

Legolas gazed after them, sniffling unconsciously. "I think I should be worried," he remarked to the silent dwarf standing beside him.

"Aye." Gimli fought back a grin. This Yule was turning into the most entertainment he'd had since the war ended. "Well, Master Elf, what shall we do now? Return to the food? Have some more ale? Have another snowball fight?"

Legolas groaned at the mention of snow. "I think... I will just go back to my nice, warm, quiet room and lie down again..."

"That's a good idea, Mister Legolas," Sam said approvingly, patting his hand. "I'll come up to check on you in a while. You just go an' get some more rest."

"Thank you again, Sam," Legolas sighed as he headed back to his room. "Just make sure I am awake before dinner."

"Can do, Mister Legolas."

"Rest up, laddie!" Gimli called happily after him. "Tonight we give and receive gifts! You wouldn't want to miss that, would you?"

Do I really have to answer that? Legolas thought as he staggered up the stairs.

Reaching his room at last, the tired elf kicked off his boots and crawled back into bed. He seemed to be spending an inordinate amount of time there lately. Snuggling down into the feather-stuffed blankets, he tried to think positive thoughts. Heal, he thought firmly to himself. Heal quickly. Be completely recovered by this evening. Tonight there will be no time to be ill. Heal, I tell you! Satisfied that his cold would be suitably intimidated, Legolas drifted off to sleep.

O.O.O.O.O

All was quiet in the elf prince's room. A night bird sang softly on the windowsill outside. A gentle draft pushed the slightly open door to and fro.

"Hey, Ro, come here a moment!" a voice suddenly whispered.

"What is it, Dan?" A second eye appeared at the crack in the door. "Well, would you look at that! Hey Rumil, come take a look at this!"

"What? What's going on?" A third party clustered behind the door. "It's Legolas! What is he doing abed at this time of evening? It's barely been dark an hour!"

"Hmm, I know not." Elladan considered. "Do you suppose he does not feel well, Ro?"

"It is possible. Perhaps he has had a bit too much to drink." Elrohir sounded amused. "You know that he cannot hold his wine."

"Or his beer."

"Or his ale."

The three sniggered, slipping silently into the room. Tiptoeing over to the bed, they stared down at their sleeping friend. Legolas was curled tightly under the blankets. Only the top of his blonde head and the tip of one pointed ear could be seen. He was snoring softly.

"He looks cold," Rumil whispered presently. "Do you suppose we should get him another blanket?"

"I believe we should." Elrohir looked excited by the prospect of playing healer. He had always wanted to follow in his father's footsteps in that particular area of study. "Keeping him warm will keep him from catching a chill and he will recover faster."

"Alright, but let us do it quickly." Elladan quietly opened the closet and pulled out a pile of extra covers. "Please keep in mind that we do have other, more pressing, matters to attend to this evening."

Between them, the good Samaritans soon had Legolas snugly covered with not one, but four extra blankets. Tucking him in cozily, the three younger elves tiptoed out as silently as they had come, congratulating each other on a good deed done. They slipped away down the hall, narrowly avoiding Aragorn and Boromir, who were still searching for them. And back in the bedroom, under the blankets, Legolas began to sweat.

After a few minutes, he began to twitch faintly. In a few more, he shook the covers off his shoulders, trying to relieve some of the heat. He began to toss and mutter in his sleep, seeking an escape from the warmth that was slowly but surely becoming suffocating. At last, unable to bear it any longer, he jolted awake, kicking all the blankets off of himself and onto the floor.

"Gyaaahh!" he gasped, frantically fanning his red face and neck. "Too... hot!"

"Mister Legolas?" The door swung open to Sam's worried face. "I thought I'd come up an' check on ye, Mister Legolas. Oh, dear, you look horrible."

"I do?" Dazed, Legolas tried to get a look at the mirror.

"You're all flushed an' sweaty." The hobbit obligingly held up the glass so Legolas could see his reflection, flushed skin, sweaty face, mussed hair and all.

The elf blanched. "Aiee! I look terrible!" He quickly ducked his head under the blankets with a sneeze. "Don't look at me, Sam! I'm hideous!"

"Don't be ridiculous." Sam patted the distraught elf's shoulder comfortingly. "There, there. It's alright. You ain't hideous. You're just sick. Hot flashes are common with colds."

Legolas sniffled hopefully. "They are?"

"They are. Now you just lay back down an' I'll go get you a cold drink. That'll make you feel better for sure." Fluffing Legolas' pillow, Sam left the room, pulling the door halfway closed behind him.

Legolas lay back uneasily. This "cold" business was getting more and more unpleasant as the day went on. Carefully keeping all blankets away from himself, the elf settled back to await Sam's return. In moments, he was asleep.

O.O.O.O.O

Once more the room was quiet. The bird on the sill plucked up its courage and began to chirp again. Until, moments later, the door burst open to reveal Eomer. The blonde rider quickly stuck his head inside the room and glanced around. "They're not in here, Uncle," he finally whispered.

"That's so odd," King Theoden puzzled as he stepped in beside his nephew. "Where on earth could those hobbits be? Merry was supposed to provide us with some of that famous pipe weed he keeps talking about."

"I don't know. Look, though, Uncle. It's an elf, sleeping the evening away while there is a feast on. What do you make of that?" Legolas had, miraculously, slept through the entire breaking and entering ceremony.

Theoden moved closer to look. "I'm not sure, Eomer. Perhaps he is ill. Do elves fall sick?"

Eomer shrugged. He knew even less about the fair race than his uncle did.

Legolas was still sprawled unconcernedly across the bed, sleeping peacefully. Eomer felt the intense temptation to poke the elf and see what would happen. "If he is ill, he's not going to be getting better in a hurry. This room is stifling!"

"True. Everyone knows that the only way to fight sickness is with a cool breeze to clear the bad vapors from the air!" Making up his mind, Theoden strode over to the window. Flipping the catch he threw it open, sending the singing bird off the sill with an indignant squawk. It certainly wouldn't go back there in a hurry. The gauzy curtain flapped in the wind as a cold breeze whistled through the room. A few snowflakes drifted in. Theoden nodded, satisfied. "There. He'll be better before the night is through. Let's go, Eomer. We still have to check the next level."

"Coming, Uncle." Pulling the door closed behind him, the Rider of Rohan hurried to catch up with his king.

Several minutes later, Sam returned. He pushed the door open, a cup of cold ale in one hand, and beheld the scene. Legolas was curled tightly in the center of the bed, shivering. The curtains, and the elf's hair, were swirling in the cold wind. "Oy! What's that dirty great window doing open?!"

Legolas blearily lifted his head and blinked at the angry hobbit. "Window? What window? My, it's cold in here..."

Plunking down the cup Sam bustled over and slammed the window shut. "Now I know that you were hot an' all, Mister Legolas, but sleepin' with windows open in this kind o' weather'll bring naught but worse sickness!"

Legolas whimpered, pulling a blanket up to his nose. "But... I didn't... um, perhaps it blew open?"

"Perhaps..." Sam looked puzzled as he tucked the blankets back around the shivering elf. "I'll give you two blankets, so you won't get hot, but the window stays closed, so you don't get too cold. Now I'll go down to the kitchen an' get you some more soup to help warm you up. Stay in that bed, you hear me?" With a final look at his cowering patient, the hobbit ran for the kitchen. And here he'd been thinking that Mister Frodo with a cold was hard to nurse.

Legolas wrapped himself in the blankets and collapsed back onto the bed. He had to be dreaming. Yes, that was it. He was living a horrible nightmare. First to have awoken burning alive, then again frozen to the sheets... his sneezing, sniffling, headache, ears hurting, and sore throat... a nightmare. That was the only explanation for this horrible day.

Buried under his comforting blankets, the elf slipped off, cautiously, to sleep at last.

O.O.O.O.O

This time, the intrusion took only a moment to commence. No sooner had Legolas fallen asleep than a broad, furry face peeked around the door and into the room.

"Ah, poor laddie. Such a shame, to be feeling so poorly at Yule." Gimli shook his braided head and stepped inside the room. "But never fear. Your good old friend Gimli will help you feel right as rain in no time." Pulling a small bottle labeled 'Gloin's Home Remedy' out of a small pouch on his belt, Gimli kicked the door shut.

O.O.O.O.O

Sam was on his way back from the kitchen, a bowl of broth balanced on one hand, when he heard the screams. "What could that be, now?" he wondered, rounding a bend in the stairs and looking up.

"AIIEEE! Stay away from me, evil dwarf!"

"No, laddie, come back! You have to drink it all to feel better! Come along, now!" Gimli came charging out of the room behind the fleeing elf, struggling to put the cork back into his medicine bottle.

"It burns us, my precious!" Legolas shrieked, slamming Sam broadside in his hurry to escape. He was foaming at the mouth due to the horrible taste of the potion Gimli had forced on him unawares, and an evil looking green medicine stain across the front of his tunic gave proof of the mighty struggle he had already put up. "Leave me alone to die in peace!"

The bowl hit the floor, splashing broth everywhere as Sam joined the chase. "Mister Legolas! Stop! Runnin' like that's sure to make you worse!"

O.O.O.O.O

Meanwhile, down in the hall, Merry and Pippin were giving Gandalf his Yuletide gift.

"It's a new hat, Gandalf," Pippin smiled as the old wizard opened the package. "Since it was kind of my fault you lost your old one in Moria. Merry went halfsies to buy it from the best shop in Hobbiton."

Merry nodded happily. "Merry Yule, Gandalf!"

Gandalf blinked a tear from his eye. The new hat even had a feather in the brim. "Why, you little rascals. Thank you, Meriadoc. And Peregrin, you dear, sweet little..." Pippin waited expectantly. "...fool of a Took! Look out!" The wizard suddenly seized both hobbits by their collars and hoisted them up and out of the way as Legolas, Gimli, and Sam crashed through the chairs they had just been sitting in.

"Woah!" Merry yelled, flailing for purchase.

"Eeek!" Pippin squealed, scrabbling to grab hold of Gandalf's arm. "Don't drop me, Gandalf, please! I'm afraid of heights!"

"What are you doing to my little ones?" Boromir suddenly appeared from seemingly nowhere to snatch the hobbits away from Gandalf, sending a suspicious glare at the exasperated wizard as he did so. "There, there, you two. I've got you. It'll be alright... I think... Now, what in the name of Gondor is going on?"

Pippin pointed blankly out into the hall.

The elves and dwarves were fighting. Hot, hard, and heavy. In the mistaken belief that Gimli and Legolas were engaged in a battle to the death, each side had drawn arms and fists to aid their respective brethren.

"What's the matter, Frodo lad?" Bilbo asked innocently as the young hobbit shoved him under a table. "Is it time for the fireworks yet?"

"It is not Midsummer, Bilbo!" Frodo screamed in exasperation, debating on whether or not to wedge in beside the older hobbit. "Just sit quietly and maybe they won't notice you! Oh, dear, I have to find Gandalf! He'll know what to do!" With that Frodo scampered off into the crowd, leaving one very confused Bilbo Baggins under the table.

"Wait, Frodo! When are the fireworks going to start?"

"This is utter madness," Haldir muttered, doing the army crawl across an open space. "I told that fool little Silvan elf. 'No good will come of it,' I told him, but did he listen? 'Never trust a dwarf,' I said, but nooo..."

Elladan, Elrohir, and Rumil chose that moment to reenter the hall, a snow-white doe deer on a silken lead between them. "Merry Yule, baby sister!" the twins cried.

"Merry Yule, Lady Arwen," Rumil grinned from behind them.

Arwen stared from where she was trying to pull her very enthusiastic husband away from the fray. From across the room she took in the sight of the chaos in the hall, and then the three young elves and the gift they had brought. Her lip quivered. "You found me a white doe! I have always wanted to see one! Thank you all so much!" Leaving Aragorn to his fate, she dashed over to hug, not her brothers, but the deer. Which was terrified beyond all reason.

As the Evenstar fell to her knees beside the animal it gave a tremendous jerk that freed the halter rope from Elladan's hand. In a twinkling it was off and lending to the general air of madness as it bounded through the hall. "Someone catch her!" Arwen cried. "She will hurt herself!"

As it turned out, Sam was the one the deer nearly hurt. The portly hobbit had climbed to the top of Elrond's favorite chair to keep out of the way. He clung there worriedly, listening to Elrond just below him sob into his hands. "My hall... my beautiful, beautiful hall..."

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, the doe appeared. She landed smack in the lap of the Lord of Rivendell, flipping the chair and sending Sam flying. Aragorn saw the hobbit go sailing by. "Grab him, Haldir!" he cried.

Having no other choice, the Lorien elf leapt from the tabletop where he had been mercilessly whacking a random dwarf with a candelabra. Intercepting Sam in midair, he diverted the hobbit's flight path from the hearth, and the burning Yule log thereon, slightly sideways. Seconds later, both Sam and Haldir touched down in the center of Galadriel's illuminated pine. Candles flew to all points of the compass, several coming to rest in the festive garlands that had been hung from the ceiling. In moments, they were alight.

"Ah, at last. There's the fireworks." With immense satisfaction, Bilbo watched the ceiling burn. "Spectacular. Just like old times. Happy Midsummer, everyone!"

"Hey, Gimli?" Legolas suddenly looked up from choking his dwarf friend in cold blood.

"Yes, laddie?" Gimli gritted out, pulling the elf's hair ferociously.

"I just realized. I feel fine! Maybe that nasty medicine worked after all!"

"That's wonderful! I told you it would work. Now put up yer dukes before I pull yer pointy little ears off!"

From the top of the staircase, Eowyn and Faramir, newly removed from the healers' hall, watched the show. The kicking and the punching. The screaming and the crying. The spilled food and the spilled wine and the admittedly smaller amounts of spilled blood. The flying elves and the flying dwarves. The burning fireplace and the burning tree and the burning ceiling and the burning of Gandalf's new hat. Elrond, curled in the fetal position under the table, the deer standing concernedly over him, laughing hysterically.

Faramir, the fire reflecting in his eyes, whimpered in alarm and pointed nervously at the fighting. Eowyn chuckled, buckling on her sword and shield in preparation for joining the battle. Leaning forward, she kissed her husband's cheek. "Merry Yule, sweetheart. I won't be but a moment." Then she ran down to join the fray, screaming the war cry of the Riddermark.

O.O.O.O.O

Outside, snow was softly falling. Stars were twinkling through stray gaps in the clouds. Away in the stables, the horses and ponies pricked up their ears and nodded knowingly to one another. Happily, they touched noses in celebration. It sure sounded like a merry Yule to them.

Happy Holidays, one and all.

O.O.O.O.O

The end.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

(2nd) Author's Note: Your Author is currently in a state of shock. In fact, she was so surprised by the keeping of her promise to post this holiday one-shot before Christmas Eve that she fell comatose off her swivel chair. Nevertheless, she wishes all of you the happiest holiday of your choice you ever did have.

Now, if only she can be motivated to finish some of her other stories hanging in stasis... Hope to see you all soon!