“There you are!” Haldir sprang off the couch with a red velvet pouch in his hand. “You may as well just pick one, you can not hide forever,” he said with a wink and a smile.

Erestor had been doing just that. Still unable to move very fast due to the healing of his injury, hiding was his best option. “Haldir, I am going to be completely useless to whichever one of your little groups gets me.”

“But we have an uneven number without you.” Haldir lifted up the bag and shook it gently. “Besides, you are family now by blood and not just marriage, Ada. It is family tradition for everyone to choose one of the tasks and work with their committee to complete it. Everyone has to choose something.”

Sighing, Erestor moved to the nearest chair and sat down. “You never make Thranduil draw a task,” he said, hoping he could stall until someone happened into the parlor to rescue him. His tactic quickly failed.

“Thranduil brings the wine. That is, was, and always will be his task for Yuletide. Now, choose, or I shall choose one for you,” warned Haldir.

“Haldir, I should really take a nap,” said Erestor, but as he was about to stand, a slip of paper was tossed into his lap. “Fine, fine,” he mumbled, unfolding the sheet as Haldir began to leave the room. “Wait! Haldir, come back, let me pick something else,” pleaded Erestor.

“Too late. I gave you a chance to choose one yourself, now you are stuck with it,” Haldir called from the hallway.

“Haldir! Haldir, return this instant!” Erestor listened to the retreating footsteps. “Ion-nin! Get back here, now!” The old elf sighed. “You... brat! You are just lucky you are too old to spank, or else I would have you go out and cut a switch for-“ He stopped his rant as Glorfindel entered the room, unfolding a piece of paper. “Fin!” he hissed, and motioned for his bonded love to hurry over to him.

Glorfindel walked quickly over, still working on unfolding the paper. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Fin, I just pulled the most atrocious thing. Well, for me- you would love it,” he said quickly. Looking up from where he sat, he made his eyes as big and adorable as he could muster. “Would you trade with me?”

“You know we are really not supposed to,” whispered Glorfindel, glancing at the door as if they were plotting something extremely secret and most important. “I- oh, Ress, you do not want this,” he said, looking at his own sheet.

“Yes I do!” Erestor grabbed the paper out of Glorfindel’s hands and tossed his own up for him to catch. “Fin, thank you so much, you just do not realize- oh, no.”

“Oh, no? What oh, no?”

Erestor’s shoulders slumped as he let out a frustrated moan. “We pulled the same damned thing.”

“Well, there you go! Not so bad as you thought,” Glorfindel assured him.

“You say that now...”

“Hogwash. I will be right there,” replied Glorfindel, settling on the arm of the chair Erestor was on. “How difficult can it be?”

“How delightful! You chose ‘Cookie Baking’, too?” Beineilien was already in the kitchen, sorting through the trays and baking pans. Nearby, Samwise was taking an inventory of ingredients.

“Chose really implies I had some say in the matter,” grumbled Erestor as Glorfindel pulled an apron from the ones that hung in the kitchen on a hook. When one of them was handed in Erestor’s direction, he crinkled his nose. “What?”

With a sigh, Glorfindel continued to hold the garment out to him. “Take it; it doesn’t bite.”

“Me? Fin, those are for girls,” he said, and bit his lip as all of them gave him rather uncomplimentary looks. “And, erm, it looks great on you, Sam,” he added, noticing the one that the hobbit was wearing. “Or, on anyone with a career in the culinary arts. But... just not me,” he said, continuing to dig the hole he had started.

Glorfindel turned around, sorted through the aprons, yanked the pinkest, frilliest one off of the hook. He tossed the dark blue one he had been holding in Erestor’s direction, where it landed on the table, before donning the very effeminate one he had found for himself. “Wear it, Ress. You are going to make a mess of yourself otherwise.”

“But... my word, Fin, you look a sight!” he exclaimed as Glorfindel tied on his apron with a big, poofed bow in the back.

“Yes, I know. Now, if anyone enters, they will not notice you in your apron, for I will completely baffle them with mine. Put it on, love, because you, unlike Haldir, are not too old to spank.”

Erestor’s face turned a deep shade of crimson as Samwise tried to make heads or tails of the conversation. Beinie bent over a little and whispered to him, and soon they were both laughing as Erestor rubbed his cheeks, trying to rid himself of his flush. “I will warn you all, I can not cook,” Erestor announced, as if this was some newfound lack of skill and not something that had plagued him the better part of his adult life.

“Just follow the recipe, and you will be fine,” Beinie told him. She took a small stack of cards and fanned them out. “I took the liberty of sorting through the recipe box. These are the ones that Sam found the ingredients for, so I think it best to make these first, and if we need to we can go into town for other things.”

“Splendid idea,” commended Glorfindel. “Shall we each pick one, then?”

“I thought it might be fun,” said Beinie. She held the cards out to Erestor. “Care to have the first go?”

- - -

“I hate to ask, Erestor, but what did you do differently?” questioned Beinie.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Erestor looked over the card. “I did everything as it said, and when it said. I am cursed,” he said, looking at the bowl of muck that had turned into something solid while he had been mixing it. Glorfindel was trying to dislodge the spoon, but he was fighting a losing battle.

Samwise sniffed at the bowl and wrinkled his nose. “Beggin’ yer parden, Master’rester, but perhaps it might be best fer you to sit off to the side an’, um, taste test the cookies.”

When no one else spoke up to veto Sam’s idea, Erestor backed away from the terrible mess he had caused. “I... I think, I… I will over here,” he said, moving to the window seat.

An hour went by as he watched the snowflakes fall. In the kitchen, the other three bakers were merrily cooking and chatting with one another. Once in a while, Erestor caught the tail of a joke, and would chuckle along with them, but always their attention would then stray to him as if confused why he would laugh or quite get the joke. Which, maybe he didn’t, but he knew it was supposed to be funny, and just wanted to be included on some level. With a sigh of defeat, Erestor turned to stare out the window.

“Ress?” There was a pause. “Erestor, darling? I have something for you to do.”

“Are you sure you want me to do anything? I may start the room on fire,” warned Erestor.

Placing his hand on Erestor’s shoulder and giving it a gentle shake, Glorfindel said, “I have three batches of sugar cookies that need to be frosted. The frosting is made, the cookies are cool, all you need to do is frost them.”

“You actually think I can accomplish it without botching it up?” wondered Erestor aloud.

“It is like buttering bread. I know you can do that,” scoffed Glorfindel as he walked away to the back counter, carrying a tray with him. “Come on, I need to get started on the gingerbread.”

Erestor looked glumly to the floor, for he was the one to ruin the first batch of the gingerbread cookies. “Where do I put them when I finish?” questioned Erestor, not wanting to miss a single detail of the process.

“Right back where they were,” Glorfindel said, setting down a bowl of white icing. “Have fun,” he added, patting Erestor on the back as he went back to the main part of the kitchen, his pink frilly apron swishing as he walked.

Picking up a cookie, Erestor carefully held it while he used the spatula to lift a little frosting from the bowl. Gently, he smoothed it out over the surface of the cookie, expecting it to crumble in his hands at any moment. When it did not, he set it down on the tray, staring at it, waiting for it to spontaneously combust. When this did not happen, he considered it a fluke and tried another.

He made it through eight before something did happen. On cookie number nine, the head of the reindeer fell off and onto the countertop. Erestor made an audible sort of an ‘eep’ sound, and all talk in the other part of the kitchen stopped. “Erestor? Everything alright?” called out Glorfindel.

“Ah... um...” Not wanting to be hurried away from something he could actually do because of one little mistake, Erestor replied, “Fine, everything is just fine. I just accidentally stuck my finger in the frosting.”

“Oh, no harm there,” called Glorfindel. “You washed your hands, not to worry.” The conversation continued and Erestor breathed a silent sigh of relief. But what to do with the evidence?

Erestor frosted the other three cookies on the tray, then sprinkled them with various colored sugars that Glorfindel had left him with. He frowned at the headless reindeer near the middle of the tray. Glancing over his shoulder, Erestor picked up the mutilated cookie and then discretely, ate it. Smiling to himself on his excellent solution, he realized with a start that there was now a gaping hole on the tray.

Another idea came to him, and Erestor shifted the cookies around until they had more space between them and no visible gap. “Fin, where do you want the trays I have finished with?” asked Erestor.

“Oh, I will take them.” Glorfindel started to walk back, and Erestor proudly looked over the tray he had finished one final time. His eyes widened as they fell upon the dismembered reindeer head on the counter. In a panic, he grabbed it, and, not knowing where else to put it, he shoved it into his mouth. “Erestor!” The dark elf practically jumped as he spun around. “These are excellent!” he commended, looking over the cookies on the tray. “See? You can do something in the kitchen... well, besides sample everything while I am cooking,” said the blond with a wink. Erestor did not reply – as his mouth was full of cookie – so, to further reassure Erestor, Glorfindel gave him a kiss.

When he pulled back away, Glorfindel was narrowing his eyes, but he was smirking as well. He looked at the tray, where the faint outlines of where the cookies had been ratted out Erestor as to what had happened. Erestor looked at Glorfindel sheepishly and shrugged.

- - -

“Well, that explains why you have a special plate of headless reindeer cookies,” commented Haldir as he looked at the offerings of goodies that were placed on the table. “But... it still leaves me wondering one thing.”

“Yes?” asked Glorfindel, pouring another glass of wine for himself. He poked at the fire in the parlor before taking his seat on the sofa again.

“Why are you still wearing the apron?” blurted out Orophin, who had been wanting to ask the question all night, from dinner to the present opening to the caroling they had heard.

Glorfindel fluffed out the ruffles. “It makes me feel pretty,” he replied, while Erestor, who was sitting beside him, was quite obviously trying not to laugh. The dark elf was turning a deeper and deeper shade of plum. Finally, unable to hold it any longer, Erestor let out a loud snort, which led to a number of the other members of the family laughing along. “What? You think it doesn’t?”

“Oh, no, no, it is lovely,” said Erestor immediately. “Absolutely...*snicker*... beautiful... *snort*... “

“Thank you. I think I may have one made for me in lilac,” added Glorfindel, sipping his wine nonchalantly.

“So, ion-nin,” Erestor said when he finally regained his composure, “what were you up to this month? I had barely seen hide or hair of you- what task did you pull?”

“Well,” said Haldir, “funny you should ask...”

"All three of us on the gift and invitation committee – how great is that?" Orophin dropped down onto the couch between his brothers. "Look at what a wonderful job the two of you have ahead of you! Not only will you get to plan a most important part of the ceremony, but you will have the opportunity to work with marvelous, magnificent... me.”

The elves on either side of Orophin rolled their eyes. Upon trying to get up, they were both forced to sit back down, as Orophin placed a hand on the shoulder of each of them and pushed them into the couch again. “Truly, I know not how you are able to bask in such magnificence. Equal only to my own wife, I am practically unworthy of your glances. But, please, tis the season of sharing, look upon me as you will.” He spread his arms out, one at either side and up a little. “I am... magnificent.”

“You are... incredible, that I’ll give you,” said Haldir, successfully escaping. Orophin was leaning on Rumil, his arms firmly around him in a bear hug now. “So, what are we going to do for the gifts?”

“Shouldn’t we have another person in our group?” asked Orophin. “Shouldn’t we wait for them?”

“Uhm...” Haldir sheepishly regarded his brothers. “Ah, we do... but, um, I have a feeling he may be a little, er, lost…”

“Huh?” Rumil questioned, but Orophin was grinning.

“Legolas pulled our group, too, didn’t he, and you told him the wrong place to meet so that we could plot without him, and make a few executive decisions without his arguing things,” guessed Orophin.

“That’s, yes, well, fairly accurate,” admitted Haldir.

“Great!” Orophin leaped off of the couch. “Huddle!” He ran to the center of the room with his back bent and shoulders hunched. “Come on, come on, no time to waste!” he scolded, motioning them into the circle. Reluctantly, Haldir and then Rumil joined him, the three of them huddled together. “Alright. Last year, those little popcorn ball snowmen that nana made were absolute rubbish.”

“I fed mine to the goats,” Rumil revealed, shrugging his shoulders.

Haldir snorted, but when pressed, he nodded. “They were vile. I think she made them a month ahead.”

“I think she made them out of wood shavings, but enough on that. We need something really, really, really great this year as the little gifts for everyone’s stocking,” he said, nodding to the various colored and sized boot-shaped items that hung over the fireplace and around the room. “We need something that screams ‘we kick nana’s butt’.”

“Maybe just something that screams, ‘this is wonderful’,” suggested Rumil.

Orophin shrugged. “One elf’s nana-butt-kicker is another elf’s wonderful. What I mean is, it can’t be suckyass.”

“So, no popcorn balls,” assumed Haldir.

“Goodness, no! What are we, first age elves? That is just SOOO Beleriand,” complained Orophin. “What we need is chocolate.”

“Finally! That’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said,” announced Rumil.

“Had to happen sometime. Now, what to do?” asked Orophin.

Haldir raised one hand slightly. “We should have taffy, too. Those little peppermint taffies that Beineilien makes.”

“Does anyone know how she makes them?” Orophin frown when neither brother answered. “We should ask her if she can make some for us.” He gave Rumil a look, and nodded towards the kitchen.

“What, me?” Rumil huffed and dropped out of the huddle. “Why should I ask?”

“She’s your daughter-in-law. Now, go go go,” shooed Orophin quickly, rushing Rumil out the door.

Rumil sighed and walked out of the parlor, entering the kitchen just a few steps away. Beineilien, Glorfindel, and Samwise were all busily making cookies and mixing dough while Erestor seemed to have been confined well away from the table and ovens and was hunched over the counter, either doing something that required no cooking skills, or just doing something to keep him busy and out of the way. Smiling at the group as he entered, Rumil asked, “Beinie, could I trouble you for a favor?”

“Of course!” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “What do you need?”

Although he was speaking to Beineilien, Rumil couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of the frilly pink apron Glorfindel was wearing. “I... I… I, uh, I was wondering if you would be able to make a batch or two of peppermint taffies, for the yule celebration. We thought they would be nice to have in the stockings.”

“I can make you as many batches as you like,” she told him. “Do you know, my father was the one who taught me how to make them. They are actually part of a Southron yuletide tradition.”

“Are they really?” Rumil’s eyes still did not stray from the pink frills. Glorfindel appeared not to notice.

Beinie nodded. “In the South of Middle-earth, they have big, hollow toy animals they make of paper pulps and glue on a frame of twigs. When the animals dry, they fill them with small treats, hang them from a tree, and let children try to hit them with a stick when they are blindfolded. It is great fun to watch, and the candy rains down when the animal is broken open.”

“Really? How interesting.”

“My father called it a piñata,” she said. “Es is muy fantastico- if you decide you would like to have one for the celebration, I could show you how to make one. There are other candies I can make for it, too. Caramels and sugar candies- and sometimes there would be toys in them, too, but I suppose we are all a little too old for that, except for Elladan’s son maybe. Oh, but he will love it! And everyone else, too. If you decide to, that is.”

Rumil nodded, finally tearing his eyes from Glorfindel to look at Beinie. “Thank you. Perhaps we will.” He was about to leave when he noted a tray of odd shaped cookies. “What are those?” he asked.

“Headless reindeer,” replied Glorfindel without batting an eye. Rumil looked around, trying to get more information from the others, but neither Sam or Beinie said anything more, and Erestor it seemed, was blushing. Rumil thanked Beinie again, and then left the room to inform his brothers of Beineilien’s offer, including the information on the piñata.

“I like it,” declared Orophin. “Do it.”

“That settles that part, then,” said Haldir, but he was interrupted by Orophin.

“I said do it. Pinata, now, chop chop, Rumil.” Orophin clapped his hands together and awaited as if the piñata would materialize before him. “Rumil, I haven’t got all day.”

Shaking his head, Haldir tugged Rumil off to the other side of the room. “So, what will be put in this piñata?”

“Beinie said she can make taffy, caramels, and sugar candy. Is there anything else you can think of?” asked Rumil.

“Mushrooms,” announced Orophin.

“What? No, Oro, be quiet. You’ve run out of good ideas, don’t bother us with the silly ones,” scolded Haldir.

“Musssshhhrooooooms,” Orophin said again, and then added, “The hobbits... will love them. And us for putting them in the piñatas. We will be...loved,” he said, wiping away an imaginary tear.

Rumil crossed his arms over his chest. “She said candy and toys. No mushrooms.”

“Mushrooms are candy to some. And, they could be toys,” decided Orophin. “Score on both points.”

“Oro, just because you play with your food doesn’t mean everyone does,” Haldir said, and was met with a waggling tongue. “We are not using mushrooms.”

“Mushrooms,” announced Orophin again.

“No mushrooms,” Haldir firmly replied.

“Rumil, go ask her if we can use mushrooms,” Orophin directed.

“Me? Why me? You go ask, you want to use them,” reasoned Rumil.

With a shake of his head, Orophin told Rumil, “You must go. I must stay here and...hypnotize Haldir to agree with me.” Immediately, Orophin took up an intense pose before Haldir, who looked anything but hypnotized. “Go, now, Rumil, before I have him in my power to do my bidding, or else I shall command him to yank your underpants up and cause much discomfort.” Haldir raised one brow, and Orophin shouted, “A-ha! Already he follows the commands I give with my mind!”

Rumil gave an irritated sigh and went back to the kitchen to ask Orophin’s question, which he was very careful to explain was Oro’s and not his. Upon his return, he found Haldir sitting on the couch with his head in his hands and Orophin sitting on the rocker. “Great. What happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened at all,” said Orophin. He paused, and then, lifted up his legs so that they were parallel to the floor. “Look! My feet are huge! Huge I say!”

Indeed, Rumil did look. On each of Orophin’s feet was one of the colorful stockings that had been hanging in the room. “Oro, I do not believe you are to wear those.”

“I told him that,” came Haldir’s voice. “But did he listen? No.”

“Of course not!” shouted Orophin, swinging his stocking covered feet back and forth. “Little brothers never do!”

“I do,” spoke Rumil, but he was not heard over Orophin’s, “Fine, fine, I’ll take them off.”

Orophin reached down and grasped the toe and yanked. Frowning, he tilted his head and tugged again. Lifting his foot closer to himself, he observed the stocking carefully, gritting his teeth and he tried to yank again. Both Haldir and Rumil were approaching, and neither of them looked all too happy.

“Now you’ve gone and done it,” Rumil said, shaking his head.

“Try rolling them down,” suggested Haldir. “Perhaps they will come off that way.”

Orophin struggled, first on his own and then with his brothers’ help. A few times it appeared he had nearly gotten it off, but his foot did not quite want to be removed. “Oops,” he said with a chuckle as he wiggled his toes. “Looks like Elrond and Celebdreth are getting a stocking full of foot this Yule.”

Rumil turned to Haldir. “So, is that worse or better than a lump of coal.”

“You’ve smelled his feet,” reminded Haldir. “Tis much, much worse than coal.”

“Smelly feet... the gift that keeps on giving,” Orophin said with a happy sort of sigh.

- - -

“That explains a LOT of things,” declared Legolas. “A LOT of things,” he added, looking to the walls and mantle, where numerous misshapen stockings were hung.

“I understand why mine was mutilated,” announced Elrond, “but why the others?”

Orophin bounced happily in his chair. “I thought, perhaps, if I tried them all on, it would be like that nursery tale, the one where the girl magically has the pumpkin coach and the mice who are the horses and all of that. I had to try them all on.”

“Your logic is... simply astounding,” said Erestor.

Orophin shrugged. “A magnificent genius such as myself does what he can to give the simple folk as yourselves a brief glimpse into my mind.”

“And a brief glimpse is all there is to be had,” said Elrond, not covering his smirk.

Laughing at the joke made on him, Orophin said, “I must compliment you and the other musicians this evening, Elrond. You performed flawlessly.”

“Thank you,” said Elrond, “But it was nearly not the case...”

“Here you are, dearest.” Elrond handed a slip of paper to Celebrian, who had been sitting on the porch reading letters that had come from her friends in Valimar. She set the one she was currently reading down on the empty part of the bench beside her and took the paper.

“What is- wait, is this for the Yule celebration?” Celebrian jumped out of the porch swing, scattering the letters across the porch. She raced inside as Elrond began to pick up the parchments lest the wind blow them across the lawn. Minutes later, she stomped back out. “Damn.”

Handing her the letters he had collected, Elrond gave her a questioning look. “El-nin, I wanted to choose my own,” she pouted. “Now Haldir will not allow me to pick another, and I shall have to wait an entire year to do so.”

“Well... next year you can choose mine as well,” offered Elrond. This did not seem to entirely satisfy his wife. “Look at it, though,” he said, reaching for the paper she still held folded in her hand. He smoothed out the creases and handed it back. “I cheated,” he admitted in a whisper. “I could feel that these two were the same, so that was why I took them. I thought it would be nice to spend the time planning with you.”

At first, Celebrian smiled and appeared delighted at this gesture, but when she read the paper, she groaned. “What is the matter now?” questioned her husband.

“Singing, again? I did that last year,” she complained. “And the year before. In fact, I seem to pick this one most often.” She crumpled the slip between her fingers.

“Let me speak to Haldir,” offered Elrond. “Perhaps he will let you pick again if he knows of your past history with this task.” Elrond began to walk inside, but Celebrian stopped him.

“No, no, then it would ruin your plans for us to spend this time together.” Celebrian closed the gap between them, embracing her husband and leaning her head on his shoulder. “I wonder who else pulled ‘Caroling’ from the bag? Lindir always gets to because everyone always knows he will anyhow, but we still have two others that will be assigned to the group.”

“Ah, that was the other part of what I wanted to tell you,” he said, happy that she was snuggling against him. “Your mother and father pulled the same thing. Wonderful, isn’t it?”

Celebrian pulled away and blinked. “What?!”

“Uh... you sound less than happy,” he replied as she groaned and started to smack her forehead against his chest.

“No, no, no, no, no...” Celebrian whined quietly. “This is terrible! Do you know how difficult this is going to be?”

“No... not yet...” Elrond smiled immediately as Galadriel emerged from the house, followed by Celeborn, who gave both his daughter and son-in-law a look that said, ‘I apologize ahead of time for... everything’.

“Well, come now, we haven’t all year to plan,” directed Galadriel, ushering everyone down to the swing that Celebrian had been sitting on. She took up a spot on it and patted the space beside her as she looked at her eldest child with a warm smile. Celebrian forced a smile of her own and then sat down next to her mother while Elrond and Celeborn each sat in one of the chairs across from them. “Now, the first thing we need to decide on are the costumes.”

Celebrian cleared her throat in order to interrupt before Galadriel plowed right in. “Sorry, I would have thought the first thing we wanted to discuss was the music.”

“Once we have the right attire, everything else will fall into place. Now, do you still have that red dress?” she asked, pulling out a small notepad and a quill practically from thin air.

“The one you hate?” blurted out Celebrian, a bit miffed.

Scribbling on the notepad, Galadriel laughed. “I don’t think I said that I hate it,” she said, and laughed again. “So you still have it. You will wear that, and I have a green one that will contrast it well. Very festive. As for our husbands...” Galadriel regarded each of them for only a few moments, and shook her head dismissively as she scribbled again. “I suppose it doesn’t much matter what they wear. Now, as for the songs...”

Elrond glanced over at Celeborn, and began to open his mouth, but decided he could leave the witty comments for later. Or...

‘What does she mean, doesn’t much matter? I have half a mind to show up in a potato sack’

Celeborn smirked, hiding it behind his hand as if it were a thoughtful expression that bloomed from whatever it was that Galadriel had said and not the comment spoken to his mind by Elrond. ‘I would not mention that to her if I were you. She decide it a wonderful idea and make us do it.’

‘It could not be any worse than the year she came up with the skit with the goats.’

There was no reply from Celeborn, as there was a growing argument between the two ellith. “The whole point of that dress is so that it does show... a little something,” Celebrian said angrily.

“It is too cold for a sleeveless dress,” Galadriel replied matter-of-factly.

“I am not sewing sleeves onto it to ruin it just for this. You always did hate that dress,” she pouted.

Again, the laughter, a little uneasy now. “It will not ruin it. It will make it more practical.”

“And more archaic,” countered Celebrian.

“You could wear a shawl over it.” Celeborn received glares from both of the ladies, but when Celebrian saw that it upset her mother, she smiled brightly and nodded.

“Perfect solution. Thank you, Ada!” She went so far as to grin at her mother, who missed the expression, for she had her narrowed eyes set on Celeborn. “Now, more importantly, the songs. Obviously, we will do all of the hobbit ones that Samwise likes the most, and the one Rumil wrote, everyone likes that one. What about the one with the magic goats?”

“Absolutely not,” said Galadriel.

Celebrian flinched. “I thought you liked goats.”

“I just think we should skip that one this year. Besides, magic goats? Complete nonsense.”

“Alright,” sighed Celebrian. “What shall we sing instead?”

Again, notes were being made on the pad of paper. “There was a wonderful little song about flying reindeer that I think we should try.”

Squinting her eyes shut and counting to six, Celebrian opened them and smiled cordially as possible. “How are flying reindeer better than magical goats?”

“Reindeer are noble animals. Goats, on the other hand, smell funny,” reasoned Galadriel.

“But you like goats!” argued Celebrian. Looking to her father, she demanded, “Doesn’t nana like goats, ada?”

“The only ones that smell are the ones that aren’t castrated,” he answered.

There was silence, and Elrond shifted just a tad uneasily in his chair.

“I think we should do the goat song,” said Celebrian. “It makes more sense than reindeer.”

“Not really,” disagreed Galadriel.

Closing her eyes again and feeling a headache coming on, Celebrian said, “Yes, it does. We actually have goats, right here. The only reindeer in Valinor are in the Helcaraxe.”

“Yes, but goats aren’t native here in Alqualonde,” returned Galadriel, which came with another faked, tight smile.

Elrond wondered if Galadriel had ever listed among her qualifications ‘Does not play well with others’. That earned a snort covered by a cough from Celeborn, whom he had not severed the mindspeaking connection with yet. “I like the goat song,” he said, speaking up on his wife’s behalf.

“It’s nice that you like it, Elrond,” said Galadriel, scribbling a few more notes down, “but if the planning were up to you, you’d probably have us all singing the goat song and wearing potato sacks. Well,” she said, ignoring the baffled look on his face, “I think I have everything I need. Next week, same time, we’ll meet for practice in the parlor on the south side of the house.” And with that, she was already standing and quickly had gone back into the house.

Waiting until the door was closed, Elrond pointed at the empty doorway and asked Celeborn, “Did she...?”

“Afraid so,” he apologized. “I suppose I can’t complain, though, I’ve done my fair share of eavesdropping on her thought conversations, too.”

Celebrian furrowed her brow and then snapped her fingers. “Oh, the potato sacks!” She giggled at the thought of it, and then sobered up. “Probably best not to think of it again or it may well come true.

“Hurry, hurry, no time to waste. Celebrian, were is your dress?” Galadriel was dressed in dark green flowing fabric, with a shall that matched.

“I didn’t know we were supposed to come in costume,” she said dumbly as she was ushered out of the room.

“Don’t worry about your shoes,” called Galadriel. “Just put on the dress and come back down! Lindir will be here any moment!” Stepping back into the parlor, she picked up a large bundle from the couch. “Celeborn, this is yours,” she said, dumping the package into his hands, nearly causing him to drop it. “Elrond, this one is for you.” A second large bundle was thrust into the dark-haired elf’s arms. “Quickly now, go into the study and change, both of you. I want to make sure the fit is right.”

Lugging the package along as he exited the room with Celeborn, Elrond complained, “This thing weighs a ton. What’s in here?”

“I tried to get them to make your outfits out of potato sacks,” shouted Galadriel, “but they were completely out. It’s all the rage in Valimar now, walking around in a potato sack.”

Once safely out of earshot, Elrond grimaced. “She is never going to let that go, is she?”

They changed relatively quickly, and actually found that the clothing Galadriel had chosen for them was flattering and very well-made. Upon entering the parlor again, they found that Lindir had indeed arrived, and was lounging on the sofa, with a small drum sitting on the floor. Galadriel looked a bit nervous about this, but her mood changed when she saw the ellyn enter. “Perfect! I was hoping they would fit. You both look great! Now, just as soon as Celebrian gets here, we can begin.”

“Good day, Lindir,” said Celeborn to his son-in-law who was staring somewhat dazedly at the wall. He received no reply and looked at his wife for an explanation.

“Lindir’s, ah, under the weather,” she said quickly, and Celebrian chose that moment to enter. “Oh, splendid. And look, with that shawl, you are presentable, who would have thought?” Galadriel missed the daggers glared at her back. “Now, I thought we would start with the song that Rumil wrote and then work on the ones we aren’t so familiar with. Lindir?” Galadriel waited until the minstrel slowly looked in her direction. “Would you accompany us, please?”

Slowly, he nodded, his eyes drifting over to Celebrian. An odd look washed over his face, as if he was contemplating something very hard, as he stared at her.

Uneasily, Celebrian slid closer to Elrond. “El-nin, why is he staring at me like that? Tis a bit creepy.”

“Your mother said he’s under the weather,” he whispered back. Observing Lindir, he added, “Perhaps he is... hallucinating and thinks you are Tallasinde,” he reasoned, referring to Celebrian’s younger sister. “Galadriel, what exactly is Lindir under the weather from?”

“Well...” Galadriel shrugged, and then discretely made the interrealm ‘drinky-drinky’ sign that basically told everyone...

“Great. He’s drunk. Just what we were missing. A drunk drummer.” Celebrian shook her head and walked over to Lindir, picking up the drum. “For now, I can keep the beat,” she said, lifting the drum from the ground. It was quickly snatched from her hands.

On the sofa, Lindir was now hugging the drum to his chest. It was an amusing picture, the fair, lean minstrel cuddling his drum with wide eyes and a wreath of holly and ivy perched on his head, cocked to one side. “I will play for you,” he said quickly, and though he was clearly ‘under the weather’, he struck up a beat and kept perfect rhythm.

“I suppose when your brain is a metronome,” mused Celeborn, and said no more.

“Lindir, that’s very nice, but you can stop until we choose a song to practice,” suggested Galadriel, however, Lindir did not stop. “Alright, everyone,” she shouted over the din. “That song Rumil wrote, from the top.”

“That won’t work; Snowflake Lullaby is a slow song, he’s drumming to march an army in,” pointed out Celebrian. “How about the goat song?”

“No, not the goat song. We decided not to do that one,” Galadriel said with much irritation, more that the drumming was increasing in volume and making it difficult for her to be heard.

“All in favor of the goat song, raise your hand!” Celebrian’s was the first in the air, followed by Elrond’s, and then, almost reluctantly, Celeborn’s.

Looking quite betrayed, Galadriel tried to think of a comeback, but nothing came to mind with the incessant banging. “Lindir! Enough!”

Either Lindir did not hear her, or he, too, was waiting for them to sing the goat song, for he did not stop. Galadriel took a step towards the minstrel, but was held back by Celeborn’s hand around her wrist. “Why don’t we let Elrond and Celebrian take care of things here, and you and I can go up to our room and discuss the list of songs?” Without giving her a chance to argue, Celeborn led Galadriel out of the room.

“Do you think he-“ began Elrond, but Celebrian raised her hand.

“I would rather not think about it, but I have a feeling when they get back she’ll be fairly willing to let us pick whatever songs we want. I do think I am getting a headache, though,” she said, glaring at Lindir. She walked over to him, and yanked the drum off of his lap, bringing quiet to the room. Before he could look up, she had hidden it behind her back.

“My drum. My drum disappeared,” he said in alarm, his wreath around his head drooping further down to cover over one eye. Celebrian nodded.

“The magic goats came and took it away. They said that you can get it back from them in dreamland.”

Lindir blinked as the words swam through his personal fog, until he rose up from the couch. “Then I must go. Find the goats. Get my drum back.”

“Then, you should go do that,” she suggested.

Scrambling around the couch and bumping into a number of inanimate objects along the way that he begged pardons from, he reached Elrond at the door. “There is a king who might come looking for this,” he said, taking the crown from his head, and plopping it onto Elrond’s. “If he asks, you never saw me.” Lindir held his finger to his lips in a shushing motion, looking very serious. When it appeared he would not leave until Elrond assured him of this, he made the same motion. Lindir nodded, backing up down the hallway and continuing to signal that Elrond should be silent about the matter.

- - -

“I was wondering where it had gotten itself to that day,” Thranduil said, chuckling. “Luckily, the ivy grows wild at the Kastle so all I needed to do was have someone go out and make another one,” he said, referring to the leafy crown he often wore.

“For the record, I was not drunk. I was mildly inebriated,” said Lindir in his defense.

“Slightly intoxicated,” offered Melpomaen. “Sounds better,” he added.

Tallasinde exchanged a mirthful look with Vilya and said, “There’s a story that goes with that, isn’t there?”

“And you are going to tell us what it is, aren’t you?” prodded Vilya.

“With pleasure,” announced the minstrel. “It all started when we were getting ready for the celebration…”

“ ‘Provisions’? The heck is ‘Provisions’?” questioned Celebdreth, waving the slip of paper at Haldir.

“New category this year,” he explained, shaking up the bag before holding it out to Beineilien for her to choose. “Lots of extra residents are here this winter, plus this way Thranduil doesn’t have to haul everything down with him when he comes, and anything we need from Valimar can be picked up at one time. Makes everyone much happier in the long run.”

Celebdreth leaned to his left to see what his wife had pulled. “Let me know what you’ll need for baking and I’ll be sure we pick it up,” he said after reading her task. “I better go find the others,” he decided. “Any idea who else got this one?” Celebdreth asked as he stood and stretched his arms.

Giving the bag anough shake before holding it out to Rumil, and finally, Nenniach, all of whom were breakfasting together, he said, “I believe Melpomaen also did.”

Excusing himself from the table, Celebdreth sought out Melpomaen. The scribe was not very difficult to locate, for he himself was wandering about seeking out his companions. “That leaves us half-found,” said Celebdreth as Glorcheniel approached them from around the corner.

“Make that three-quarters. Haldir told me to find the two of you,” she said, showing them the slip she had received.

“Excellent. Only one more to find, and we shall have our quorum,” Melpomaen said. Finding their fourth member was not so easy, and so they sought out Haldir instead to find out just who had pulled the fourth slip.

“No one did,” he confirmed. “Some of the groups only have three; one has five.”

The trio at the door watched as Orophin hopped about the room, trying to force his foot into one of the decorative stockings that had been on the wall. “Why can’t we have five?” questioned Celebdreth. “We should have five.”

“You don’t need five,” he said at the same time Melpomaen informed Celebdreth of this.

“Shh, I’m negotiating,” he whispered to Melpomaen out of the corner of his mouth. “Fine,” he said to Haldir. “We shall take another and raise our total to four and be on our way.”

Rolling his eyes, Haldir explained, “The reason you only have four is so that you can comfortably ride in a carriage and fit whatever provisions are required in the carriage without being crowded. Four is too many. Five is ridiculous.”

“Halli? Come help me!” demanded Orophin from across the room, where he had nearly hopped himself through the picture window. “My toes are getting tingly.”

Regarding Orophin for a moment, Haldir turned back to Celebdreth and said, “If you want four, you can have your uncle.”

Celebdreth considered the offer for a moment, then looked at Glorcheniel, who was adamantly shaking her head and Melpomaen, who was staring at Orophin with a worried look. “No, I think we’ll be fine with what we have. Thanks, though.” Scurrying out of the room before any reconsiderations could be made, Celebdreth and the others went to the kitchen, passing Rumil on the way.

“Love? Need anything from town?” asked Celebdreth of Beineilien. She pointed to a sheet on the table which he picked up. On his way back, he noted a tray full of reindeer that were missing their heads, but said nothing. “I expect we shall return in a week’s time, considering we must go to Valimar and to the Kastle to pick things up.”

“What is a week?” she asked, for they had once spent six to eight months of every year apart. “Hurry back safely, come and give me a kiss before you go,” she said, and he did as he was told.

Once the trio had collected the lists from the other groups, they went to the stables to hitch Fool of a Took and Erestor’s horse, Thay, to the carriage. On their way, they found themselves a wandering minstrel and invited Lindir along for the ride.

“This is superb,” he said, relaxing in the carriage sometime after they had started their journey. Instead of going to the King’s Kastle first, which was the closer of their two destinations, they would head straight for Valimar, collect what they needed there, and then go to the Kastle to pick up the ale and wine. “The caroling committee isn’t doing a thing until next week, and even if they were, all I am ever asked to do is play and sing along. No input whatsoever.”

“That’s so sad,” Glorcheniel said. “Surely, they must appreciate you, though.”

“I suppose,” he said shrug. “Anyhow, thanks for inviting me along. So, what is our mission?”

Celebdreth pulled out the lists as the horses clip-clopped their way down the snowy path they traveled along. “Besides the things we need to get from the Kastle, Grandnan requested capes for Elrond and Grandfather, she has colors and measurements and all of that, and I am to deliver them to Gaileth and pick up the garments at the week’s end. Elladan and Elrohir gave me a huge list of assorted items they need, and Haldir has a list of candy to be picked up from my Great-Grandnan’s sweet shoppe.”

“Mmm...candy...” voiced Glorcheniel and Lindir grinned and nodded. Lhunerin’s sweet shoppe was a delight for all elves, young and old. “Did Valarda need anything for her group?”

“No, but Beinie has a list of things, all very common, though. I suppose we can all split up and take a list,” suggested Celebdreth.

Lindir nodded. “That would be a good idea, we would get things done a lot faster that way. I’ll take Tallasinde’s list if you don’t mind.”

“Uhm... which committee is she on?” asked Celebdreth, sorting through the sheets.

“Tree and Yule Log,” answered Lindir, a bit worried as Celebdreth frowned. “Did you lose it?”

“I didn’t lose it,” he answered. “I never got it. I thought the decorators were the ones who took care of the tree.”

“Haldir changed it. Too many, he said, for the four groups we usually have, so he split it into seven,” Lindir informed them.

Celebdreth sighed. “Well... it shouldn’t be too bad,” he said. “I am sure they can make do for decorating the tree, and we have trees all around. It will be easy for them to find a tree in the forest.”

- - -

“Ha! Next year, I nominate you to head the tree committee!” announced Elodien.

Nenniach rasied her hand. “Second the nomination! All those in favor?”

“Aye!” shouted all four of the ladies who had ended up on the tree committee.

“How was I to know how truly difficult it would be?” apologized Celebdreth.

Tallasinde yawned. “It was hard work!” she complained. “But we still don’t know why Lindir was drunk.”

“Slightly inebriated!” he corrected again.

“I was just getting to that part,” grinned Celebdreth. “It really all started as soon as we arrived in Valimar...”

Lhunerin brought up another tray of dainty treats, delicately wrapped in an assortment of colored tissues. “Keep these cool, now, dear. They’ll melt if they get too warm,” she advised Celebdreth.

“Yes, Gran-nan.” Celebdreth peered into the box that Lhunerin was arranging the truffles in. “What are those?” he asked, looking at the strips of parchment with various puffed candies attached to them.

“That is actually a special kind of frosting,” she explained. “It can be piped into all sorts of shapes. I made them with strings attached at the top so that they can be hung on the tree and eaten later. Keep them up high, though, or else Haldir’s wolf might decide to snag a few of them.”

Galadhon came inside to retrieve the final box once Lhunerin had placed all of the treats into it. “There’s a very heavy box on the floor of the carriage,” he warned. “It’s not all candy, either. There are a few pounds of chocolate, and a new shelf for the wall that Celebrian described to me. Take care with it,” he added as he headed back out to where his workshop was.

“I suppose we should go, then. We still need to pick up Melpomaen and Glorcheniel from Ecthelion’s house, along with whatever it is that Galadriel requested,” said Lindir. They thanked Lhunerin for the candy once more, and were each given two small paper sacks.

“Take some things for the trip home, and make up bags for your friends, too, dears,” requested Lhunerin, giving them both a pat on the cheek. “I have to tend to the fudge, so a safe journey if I do not return before you go.”

- - -

“I wonder what they look like.” Glorcheniel felt every inch of the first package, and then did the same for the second one. “I suppose we shall have to wait until we get back home. I should have read Galadriel’s message to Gaileth before I surrendered it,” she said with a smirk.

“I am sure we will learn when we get home, or soon enough,” assured Melpomaen. He was carefully carrying a wooden crate containing four bottles of some sort of liquor that Ecthelion had decided to make at home and wanted to share with his seaside friends.

Celebdreth motioned that everyone should climb aboard the carriage. “We can still make it to the King’s Kastle by early afternoon if we hurry and have no delays.” Everyone loaded into the coach, squishing into the space that was left now that they had packed in everything that had been requested. Indeed, Haldir had been right that three was plenty to manage this task, and with Lindir along the carriage was crowded. Still, they talked merrily among themselves as they traveled along.

“Ooo, what are these?” asked Glorcheniel, pulling out a square candy with a shimmering wrapper from her bag.

“Apple taffies,” said Celebdreth, breaking off a chunk of peppermint bark from the candy that he had filled his bag with. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I put in a little bit of everything.”

Melpomaen was enjoying his bag of lemon drops and cherry sours when he glanced over and took note of the droopy eyed expression that Lindir was wearing. “Are you alright, Lindir? You look a little tired.”

“Hmm? Mmm. Nope.” He fished around in his bag of candy and pulled out another small chocolate and popped it into his mouth with a satisfied smile.

Celebdreth chuckled a little. “I told him not to eat more than a few at a time. Gran-nan’s liqueurs are extremely potent.”

“Potent but de-licious,” Lindir added with a sloppy grin.

- - -

There was little to pick up at the King’s Kastle- the ale would be brought later, as would the wine, but there were a few small items that Thranduil instructed one of the bartender’s to retrieve while he waited at the counter and conversed with the four travelers. “Anything of interest going on in Valimar?” he asked as he idly wiped the counter.

“Not really. The stationary shop has a few new colors of ink, that seemed to excite a fair number. Other than that, it was all very much the same,” replied Celebdreth. He had hoped to leave Lindir in the carriage, considering how tipsy he had become simply from eating the intoxicating sweets. Things had needed to be rearranged, so Celebdreth instead left Melpomaen and Glorcheniel to that task while he led Lindir into the bar. In hindsight, it was probably not the best of places to take the drunken minstrel.

“M’lord,” interrupted the floor server, “I have an order for those tables there; twelve pints and I have others waiting. Would you be able to-“

“Take care of the others; I’ll get the ales.” Thranduil pulled a dozen mugs from the storage shelves below and lined them up along the counter. He could hold three in each hand, and the kegs were rigged with a lever on the floor to be stepped on to make the drink flow. He expediently filled the first six mugs and then set them on the counter. Picking up the other six, he turned back to the barrel and began the second half of his task.

Lindir eyed up the pints with delight, and before he could be stopped by Celebdreth, drank down one-half of each of the pints on the counter before him. Wanting to groan, Celebdreth instead tried to look as casual as possible when Thranduil turned back around.

Shock was written all over the king’s face. “Must be a lot of foam in this one,” he mused to himself as he set the fresh mugs of beer on the counter. He gathered the half-empty ones and went back to the barrel again.

It amazed Celebdreth twofold in watching Lindir do the same with the next batch. First, even while imbibing the liquor, Lindir was as quiet as a mouse. Not one of the mugs hit the counter with a thud- it was as if he were setting each one down upon a pillow. Second, he had an amazing ability to drink very fast. When Thranduil returned again, the mugs were lined up, and half-drained of their contents. “This is ridiculous,” he growled, setting down the mugs and turning back to take a look at the barrel in frustration.

Lindir immediately grabbed hold of one of the filled mugs- but his eyes caught something else. Perched upon Thranduil’s head was a crowd of leaves, very much as he always wore. One hand reached out to touch the red berries, and Celebdreth slapped away Lindir’s hand. With a pout on his face, Lindir strained to reach a little further with both hands now, but Celebdreth decided this was more than enough and settled a hand on Lindir’s shoulder to keep him steady and away from his goal.

“This thing is such a headache to change,” mumbled Thranduil as he began to unhook the barrel from the contraption it was set in. He tilted his head back to be sure nothing would get caught on the higher shelves, which is what caused his crown to slip from his head and land atop the counter beside the mugs.

With eyes as huge as saucers, Lindir snatched the crown and put it on his head. Celebdreth made an attempt to wrestle it away, but the minstrel stumbled back and ran out of the hall. Celebdreth glanced from the crownless king to the counter. Lindir had managed to grab a mug of beer on his way out. Cursing to himself, Celebdreth picked up a mug, drank down the contents, and rushed out the door while Thranduil, unknowing of any of these happenings, continued to try to find a solution to his problem.

- - -

“The more bizarre things get, the more sense they seem to make,” Elrond said as he helped himself to another glass of eggnog. “Lindir, I am surprised you even managed to keep a beat while we practiced.”

“It was the beat of the pounding in my head,” admitted the minstrel.

Celebdreth settled on the couch next to his wife and snuggled next to her. “I still feel bad that we did not know there was a separate group for the tree.”

“And you should be!” declared Elodien. “Why, if not for Legolas-“

“Oh, Legolas, you’re my hero!” squeaked Orophin in a falsetto, to the amusement of many.

Legolas simply smirked. “I’m everyone’s hero.”

“Not likely. You ran from a balrog,” taunted Orophin playfully. “Show of hands, who else here has run from a balrog?” Erestor began to raise his, but Orophin waved that he should put it down. “That was a first age balrog; no excuse to run from a third age one.”

“I wasn’t running; I was fleeing. There’s a world of difference,” declared Legolas. “Besides, I was the one who came to the rescue of these four dear ladies,” he said, motioning to the members of the tree committee. “Why, if not for me, these ladies might still be in peril!”

“Count of three,” instructed Orophin, “an adoring sigh for Legolas the tree killer. One, two, and... swoon.” The four ladies, and Orophin of course, all cooed and batted their lashes at Legolas, and generally caused a great deal of laughter in the room.

“Alright, then,” called Glorfindel, who had removed the pink frilly apron when he had last gone to the kitchen for another platter of cookies, “describe these deeds of valor, o glorious Sir Legolas, killer of trees of Valinor.”

“Indeed, I shall,” he announced. “Last month, when I first pulled my assignment-“