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mimilind · 1 year

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A Yuletide Reunion in the Shire

Summary: In an alternate universe where the whole Fellowship – and Sméagol – survive and find happiness, Yuletide is coming up and Frodo invites them to a reunion in the Shire.

Pairings: Boromir x Nellas (less known Tolkien elf), Sméagol and Lol-Nani-Ogg (Drúedain OC), Legolas x Kat (human OC from modern Earth).

Word count: 3060 words

Note: This was originally written as a bonus chapter for my long fic Cat of the Fellowship but can be read standalone since it contains no spoilers (except that everyone lives – which it already says in the tags). If you want to know how they all survived you can read the fic. :)

Tags: Christmas fluff, Fellowship reunion, friendship, everyone lives AU, fix-it, some making out, pregnancy (only mentioned).

Image Credits: Old Christmas cards by Jenny Nyström

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A Yuletide Reunion in the Shire

In a jingle of bells, they arrived in Hobbiton shortly before Yule. Nellas and her husband’s sleigh was the most fancy one; it was of black wood with gold lanterns and comfortable seats covered in rabbit fur, and drawn by a pair of headstrong chestnut stallions she had named Fred and George after a tale from her friend Kat's world. They had bought the sleigh in Rohan when the chilly winter rain they started out in changed to a heavy snowfall and made it impossible for their carriage to go further.

Beside them traveled Kat, Legolas and Gimli in a simple sleigh pulled by the horse Arod, then came Aragorn and Arwen’s royal one (but still less fancy), and last in line followed the smallest one where only the noses of Lol-Nani-Ogg and Sméagol peeked out through thick furs and blankets. The sleighs were flanked by two war horses and their riders; the rangers Éowyn and Faramir.

The horses trotted along the main road through a sprinkle of fluffy snowflakes, breaths forming clouds in the frosty air.

“How lovely,” Kat exclaimed. “It looks like a Christmas card.”

“A what?” Boromir’s voice formed a cloud as well.

He was very handsome in a fur clad hood, eyes bright and cheeks pink from the chill. Nellas resisted an urge to cover his face with kisses while telling him over and over again how much she loved him. She was learning the fine art of self-control and figured she had become rather good at it the past year.

“It is a kind of letter but with a picture. In my world we would send them to each other this time of year and they looked just like this.” She indicated their surroundings with a gloved hand: the trees shrouded in white; a robin chirping in a branch; a group of hobbit children dressed in bright coats, scarves and hats laughing and playing in the deep snow.

“It is beautiful,” said Arwen. “Such a lovely town.”

The houses in Hobbiton were dome shaped with round doors and windows, and the largest, nicest one was situated on a hill. They tied the horses outside and opened the garden gate.

A hobbit had been clearing a path from the door to the road, now he looked up with a huge grin. “Oh!” He tossed the shovel aside and hurried down to greet them. “My goodness, you came. The whole Fellowship will be reunited at last!”

“Of course we came.” Boromir squatted so he could hug him.

“When you wrote about your wedding we just had to meet your wife and congratulate you belatedly,” Faramir added, squatting next to his brother.

“Well met, Samwise Gamgee,” said Aragorn, bowing elegantly.

“Strider! Uh, I mean, King Elessar! We didn’t dare hope you would be able to leave your responsibilities at court.”

He grinned. “To you, it will always be Strider, dear Sam. And I left Minas Tirith in the capable hands of my vice-steward. After all, I am king here as well and it is good to travel through one’s realm every once in a while.”

“Come, come, let's get you all inside. Mister Frodo will be thrilled, and my Rosie too, I’m sure. How was the journey?”

“Long.” Arwen yawned.

“Cold,” said Lol-Nani-Ogg from the depths of her hood.

“Fun,” Kat objected. “I love to see real winter again! In Ithilien it mostly rains this time of year.”

Frodo must have heard their voices, for the round door crashed open. “You came!” He nearly slipped down the stairs in his eagerness to join them. “You all came!”

A somewhat chaotic reunion ensued, with many hard hugs and happy exclamations of ‘long time, no see!’, ‘you look well!’, ‘has it really been more than a year already?’, and when they finally went inside there was another bustle as they crowded in the hallway, heads low under the hobbit sized ceiling while their outer garments and luggage were taken care of and rooms assigned.

At last everything was sorted and the guests urged to get changed and rest after their journey while the hosts prepared a festive meal.

Nellas curiously entered Boromir’s and her room. It was small and snug, with thick curtains, an open fireplace and a human sized bed that must have been bought specially for the occasion. The quilt on the bed was made of strips of fabric in many different colors sewn together, forming an abstract pattern.

“Shall we try the bed?” she suggested.

Boromir smiled. “Good idea.” Stretching out on his back, he bounced on it experimentally. “Mmm, soft. A nap is just what I need.”

She frowned. “I did not mean sleeping.”

“No? What did you mean then?”

“I meant–”

His hearty laughter interrupted her and she jumped on top of him, straddling his broad chest. “You knew what I meant from the beginning,” she accused.

“Aye.” His eyes sparkled with mirth.

“You are always teasing me.” She tried to tickle him as punishment but failed because of how easily he caught her hands and held them.

“Always.”

“Lucky for you I love you anyway.”

“I do not deserve it.” Still with her hands caught between his, he flipped her on her back and locked her arms above the head. “Now, were we going to try the bed?”

“Yes, please.” She closed her eyes expectantly as he cupped her face and covered her lips with his.

The kiss was intense from the beginning; Boromir’s emotions were always near the surface, especially his desire. As their lips moved together, he pressed himself against her with untamed passion while his large hands roamed her curves.

She reciprocated by stroking his shoulders, feeling hard muscle under the rough wool, and wished he would take his tunic off so she could revel in the sight of his bare chest.

Leaving her lips, he began a trail of needy kisses down her neck. His breath was cool against her heated skin, making her heart race and her body ache with want.

He reached her neckline and opened the first button. “I like this dress,” he mumbled huskily. There were buttons all the way to the hem.

“I… chose it… with you in mind…” she replied breathlessly as he popped them open one by one. “But now it is… your… turn… to undress.”

He pulled off his tunic and shirt in one swift motion. “My pleasure.”

She looked at him with admiration. “No. My pleasure.”

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Sméagol regarded the bountiful table suspiciously. “It is all cooked,” he whispered to his wife.

“I can see that, and don’t you dare be rude about it.” She gave his cheek a quick peck, taking the edge off the words.

The fat hobbit came over, carrying a plate laden with some whitish, fluffy mess. “I made mashed taters for you.”

Lol-Nani-Ogg gave Sméagol a warning look. “Smell good and look good,” she said in broken Westron. She had never bothered to learn that language entirely since they mostly kept to themselves, and at home they spoke Drúedain.

Sméagol forced a polite smile. “Yess, very nice.”

The hobbit had noticed his wry face and his grin became broad. “I’m only teasing you. Look, here is Rosie with your fish – raw and wriggling, just the way you like it.”

Sméagol regarded the plate of glistening trouts hungrily, relieved and pleasantly surprised. Turning back to the fat… no, to Sam, he said with warmth: “Thank you. We lovess fish.”

Sam patted his back. “Don’t mention it.”

More guests were filing in now, the taller ones bending their heads to pass through the doorway. Luckily the room was spacious and the table large.

Last of all entered Merry and Pippin, neighbors of Master Frodo. Sméagol didn’t know them very well, but they had been in the Fellowship too and seemed quite popular with the others for they caused a loud and hearty round of greetings.

When at last they were done and everyone was seated there was still one empty chair. The nice king looked at it, eyes brightening expectantly. “Is that for…?”

Frodo beamed at him. “Yes, indeed.”

The door opened a final time and a bearded old man walked in, hitting his head first in the door beam and then in the chandelier. “Why, your house keeps getting smaller, Frodo!” he grumbled.

‘Gandalf!’ exclaimed everyone – except for the elves, who exclaimed ‘Mithrandir!’. So typical of their kind, always wanting to be different.

The wizard’s arrival meant more greetings. Sméagol glanced at the fish plate, stomach growling. Was it never time to eat? He was starting to regret accepting Master Frodo’s invitation. Only to think, he could have been nicely tucked in at home with his wife, having all the rice-and-raw-fish cakes he could eat and perhaps taking a stroll by the river in search of birds’ eggs, but instead he was here among strangers, ravenous and feeling out of place.

Frodo rose, calling forth silence by tapping his glass with a knife. “I bid you welcome to Bag End and to this reunion. I am overwhelmed and happy all of you made it here! It feels just like when the Fellowship was formed, but even better now with the addition of so many new friends. But, no more talking; you must be starving, so without further ado: let us eat!”

Finally! Sméagol sent the master a grateful look and grabbed a slippery trout, sinking his sharp teeth into the tender meat.

The meal became more pleasant than Sméagol had anticipated; the food and drink soon revived him, and the others took turns talking about their adventures so nobody seemed to mind his silence. Part of their tales were quite interesting too, particularly the one concerning the master and Sam. Apparently the evil wizard Saruman had escaped from his tower after the war and settled here in Bag End, from where he did plenty of mischief in the country before Frodo and his friends returned. But they fought him bravely, leading hundreds of hobbits to battle and finally driving him out. In the end Saruman’s own servant sliced his throat before he too was killed, and that had been the end of what was now known as the Scouring of the Shire.

This had happened a month or so before Yule the previous year, and during spring the hobbits had worked hard to rebuild everything and restore the broken land. Sam had spread dirt that was a gift from the elf queen Galadriel, and thanks to its elven magic this year’s harvest had been the most bountiful ever in the history of the Shire.

“And part of that is what you are eating now,” he said, indicating his beloved mash.

“The potatoes are really quite good, love,” whispered Lol-Nani-Ogg. “You should try them.”

Tentatively Sméagol took a small spoon. The white fluff melted on his tongue and to his surprise the mellow flavor was really pleasant, with a perfect balance of salt and butter.

He sneaked a look across the table. Sure enough Sam was watching him with a decidedly smug smirk.

“Not too bad,” Sméagol grudgingly admitted. “But we likess fish better.”

“We do,” agreed his wife, flashing him one of her radiant smiles that always filled his chest with happy flutters. He would never understand what she saw in him, but he was not complaining. Though he knew he didn’t deserve it, the Creator had blessed him in his old age and made him a very lucky man.

When everyone had eaten their fill they moved the chairs closer to the fire and as evening fell they continued talking. Sam served mulled wine and Kat – Legolas’ strange wife who used to be a cat – told them a Yule tale about a child in her world that was the son of the Creator, and something about a stable and a star.

“... and later he was killed as punishment for our crimes. So now everyone has been forgiven for all the bad we ever did, or will do in the future.”

“We are not from your world,” said Boromir. He looked a bit sad about that.

“I think it works in Middle-earth too. That the worlds have the same Creator.”

He smiled wistfully. “I would argue there are many who do not deserve pardon.” He didn’t say it, but Sméagol got the impression he was talking about himself.

“Nobody deserves it,” she agreed. “But we get it anyway.”

“I believe you,” said Boromir’s brother.

“And I,” said Lol-Nani-Ogg unexpectedly.

Sméagol felt his throat grow a little too tight as the face of his dead best friend floated up before his inner eye.

Forgiveness… could he really have that?

“Let’s tell riddles now,” said Pippin cheerfully, breaking the serious moment. “I can begin. When young I’m sweet in the sun, when middle-aged I make you gay and when old I’m valued more than ever. Who am I?” He winked and sipped his mulled wine.

“Peregrin Took, your timing is awful,” the wizard muttered, but not unfriendly.

The rest of the evening went by quickly and Sméagol could not recall many times he had enjoyed himself more. When he went to bed that night he reflected that he no longer regretted coming; he had almost forgotten how great it felt to have friends.

Exhausted after the eventful day, he dozed off with his wife in his arms and slept better than he had in years.

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A cold heap of snow hit Kat squarely in the shoulder. Darn elf; archers shouldn’t be allowed in snowball fights. His aim was uncanny.

“Twenty-two,” called Legolas’ smugly across the field.

“We’re still one ahead of you, lad,” shouted Gimli back at him, dodging as another ball was hurled his way. The dwarf used his own, special tactic; he preferred to catch his opponent and wrestle them down so he could pour fistfuls of snow directly in their face.

“Over here!” Éowyn waved for Kat to come down into a trench Boromir was making. She had nearly as good an aim as Legolas so she was a useful ally, and Boromir’s brute strength came in handy for the digging part.

Soon Team Éowyn had an effective battle machine going: Kat was speed-rolling hard balls, Boromir provided her with snow for building material and Éowyn launched a continuous barrage on the enemy so fast her gloves became a blur. At the other side, Legolas, Aragorn, Faramir and Nellas were forced to huddle in their snow fort, unable to fight back in the relentless bombardment.

This was Gimli’s cue. Sneakily he advanced on them from behind and pounced on Legolas. “Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven…”

It would have ended with victory for Team Éowyn if not the hobbit team had unexpectedly chosen that moment to attack. Everyone had forgotten about them because they had spent so long digging snow tunnels rather than engaging in the war.

“For the Shire!” they yelled in one voice, jumping up from the ground in several places at once. Between themselves, Frodo, Sam, Rosie, Merry and Pippin easily bested the surprised enemy leaders and had soon poured so much snow down their clothes they became chilled to the bone.

“I yield,” said Boromir between chattering teeth.

“Me too,” said Aragorn.

“I count forty hits for the Shire,” said Merry.

“Only thirty-five for us.” Gimli shook icicles from his beard.

“Victory!” yelled Pippin, making a funny little dance. “Well done, team.”

Legolas left his protective fort and stretched out a damp, gloved hand to Kat. “Peace?”

“Just a moment…” She swiftly produced the snowball she had kept hidden behind her back and threw it squarely in his chest. “There. Even!”

“Sneaky.” He caught her in a wet hug and kissed her with cold lips.

“Come everyone, let's go in and have a second breakfast,” said Frodo. “I prepared chicken soup before we went out; it should be ready now.”

When they hustled inside, they found Gandalf, Arwen, Sméagol and Lol-Nani-Ogg comfortably drinking tea by the fire.

The wizard gave the disheveled, shivering warriors a disapproving look. “Fools.”

“Foolissh, indeed,” Sméagol huffed. “We doesn’t like ssnow.”

After a change of clothes and with her belly full of hot soup, Kat joined the group by the fireplace, taking a seat in Legolas’ lap to save chairs.

Her heart felt full as well; full of warmth and love, and completely devoid of the stress she remembered from every Christmas in her old world. Here nobody bothered about costly presents or advanced home decorations. She could simply be. Just enjoy the peaceful silence, the pleasant company and her husband’s warm, comforting arms holding her close. It was all she needed.

Kat rested her head against Legolas’ chest, listening to his calm heartbeat and the occasional crackle from the fire. Her limbs were pleasantly tired after the morning’s snowball fight.

After a while her eyes landed on Rosie Cotton. Sam’s wife was a charming hobbit lady, pretty and cheerful, and had entertained the others with an endless supply of riddles yesterday. But didn’t her stomach look slightly swollen? Under the thick winter clothes it was hard to see clearly.

She sent a silent thought to Legolas via the renewed mental connection they had discovered on the wedding night: Don’t you think Rosie looks a bit on the heavy side? Bellywise, I mean.

Aye, they are expecting. Sam told me yesterday.

And you didn’t tell me? she scolded.

I was busy.

Kat had to grin at that; the previous night had been rather intense. The crackling fire, warm colors and low ceiling in their cozy room had kindled romantic feelings.

She thought more about that night, eyes still lingering on Rosie’s discreet bump. As usual they had taken measures to prevent a such, but maybe…

I suppose it’s a good time to have a baby now that there is peace in the world, she thought tentatively.

Legolas' arms tightened around her and he buried his nose in her hair, breathing in her scent. Aye, it is a good time.

I have suddenly become a bit tired. She faked a yawn. Time for an afternoon nap?

Good idea. He gave her forehead a soft peck.

Shortly thereafter they left together, hand in hand, to share another moment of sweet love and hot passion – this time without precautions.

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A/N:

Happy holidays! This is a standalone bonus chapter for my long fic Cat of the Fellowship. Welcome to read the full story on AO3 or FFN if you like. :)