Dec 24 2012, 6:47pm
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the hole,
'Twas the night before Christmas...
Not a Hobbit was eating,
Not even a roll.
The door was unlocked, but fastened with care,
In hopes that dear Gandalf soon would be there.
Frodo was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of Ringwraiths danced in his head.
And I in my study, looking at maps,
Had just settled down before my long naps.
When out on the doorstep I heard such a clatter, I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I showed the meaning of haste,
Hoping to goodness no time had been waste.
The Moon was shining on the earth down below,
Only a dusting was there of Shire fallen snow.
When what to my wondering eyes see,
Gandalf and dwarves, my old company!
With a leader so tall and a hat with a bend, I knew it must be my old wandering friend.
As rapid as eagles and moths they came,
I called them out eagerly by name,
Now Bifur, and Bofur, Ori, Dori, Nori, Oin and Gloin, and dear fat Bombur,
'Come out of the cold! To the kitchen you fly! Now come in, come in! Not out of the fire, nor to the pan you fry!'
As they entered willingly my humble abode, I regret to announce that we woke up Frod.
So into the parlour he sleepily came, but knew most dwarves by their first or last name.
And then, in a hurry, I slam closed the door, hoping to goodness that there were no more. As I drew in my head and turned around, down sat big Bombur with quite a loud bound.
Gandalf was dressed in all grey, from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all worn from the dragon's old soot.
A staff and a bag he had flung on his back, and he looked like a wanderer opening his pack.
His eyes, how they smiled! His hair, how wild! His mouth had a pipe all lit with a match, and the beard in his chin was a grey as the hatch.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, the smoke was a ship that flew through my wreath; he had a sharp face and not much of a belly, as he and Frodo passed out the sweet jelly.
He wasn't chubby or plump, and good friends with an elf. I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, soon gave me to know this time do not dread.
He spoke many words, mainly of recent work, told how wraiths were much trouble and Sauron a jerk. And laying his mug on the table with ease, I remembered that he was simple to please.
He sang of the Shire, his team entered too, I joined him, and Frodo, As we all say to you,
Merry Christmas, Dear Hobbiton, and to all a good night!
'What are we holding on to, Sam?'
'There's good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for!'
'I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you!'