Elves hurried about, hanging holly garlands and mistletoe about all the public places, bringing winter into the house as well as outside it. Out in the courtyard banners fluttered, bearing not the emblem of noble houses, but cheerful greetings to all who saw them.

In the kitchens the cooks were busy making cakes, pies and puddings, while the huge boar roasted slowly over the great stone fireplace. It would cook for many hours, yet would be the centrepiece of the feast when it was done. Others made vast vats of hot spiced wine, slices of various fruits floating on the top as it bubbled merrily away.

Beneath the table containing the pastries a child or two could be found, munching happily on a sweet berry tart. Even the usually stern cook had relaxed, indulging the steady stream of children from all over Imladris, rather than shooing them away as she normally would.

Yule had arrived at last.

Glorfindel walked slowly through the courtyard, on his way back from an admittedly light-hearted meeting with his lieutenants. There had been more talk of the feasts and parties than duty, but he did not mind. There were enough warriors to keep the realm safe while the festivities continued and there were no pressing matters to attend to.

He could not help but smile as he went: he loved the festive season and as long as he had lived, it had never lost its charm. Being in no hurry - there were hours yet until the evening festivities - he stopped often to exchange friendly words with those he passed. This was what Yule was all about for him - peaceful moments and the chance to relax and enjoy the company of friends.

Even when he entered the house, the work of the cheerful decorators meant that the warm and festive atmosphere stayed with him. Each door bore a wreath of festive foliage and it amused him to see how each one had been made with slightly different combinations of leaves, berries and flowers, so that no two were quite the same.

Reaching his own door, he nodded in approval at the red and white flowers that graced it - clearly, it had been made by someone who understood that golden flowers all the time could grow rather tiresome. Such thoughts were always appreciated and even more so at this time of year.

It was going to be a wonderful night.

**************

The Hall of Fire was packed with Elves from all over Imladris, as well as a few visitors from other realms. The hall itself looked spectacular: wreaths and garlands were hung on walls, tables and mantelpieces and mistletoe hung playfully from the ceiling. The centre of the room held the biggest attraction of all, however - a vast fir tree, lovingly decorated with painted glass ornaments hanging from brightly coloured cord, strips of vibrant ribbon and even hanging sweetmeats, which the children would demolish before their bedtimes came.

It was a warm and happy atmosphere and laughter was heard from all corners of the great room. No one seemed to mind the crowd as they eased their way to and from tables and groups.

Mingling with the happy chatter was the sound of cheerful music, performed by a small group of minstrels. They were taking turns in performing so that none missed out - though most delighted in the playing of the Yule songs which brought merriment to so many.

Working his way through the throng and clutching a large goblet of hot spiced wine, Glorfindel moved to the edge of the room. There were actually empty seats to be found there, as no one ever sat for long before being drawn back into the celebrations.

He sighed happily as he sat, casting his eyes over the excited Elves that milled about. As sociable as he was, there was a part of him that just loved the simple, uncomplicated moments when he could do nothing more than observe those around him.

What he did not realise though, was that he was also being observed. Not far away, another had noticed him seeking a quieter spot and was making his way towards the golden lord.

“Happy Yule, my friend,” Elladan said as he approached.

Looking up, Glorfindel smiled as Elrond’s heir came up to him. “Greetings Elladan, a happy Yule to you also. Your father has outdone himself this year, I must say.” As had Elladan, Glorfindel knew. The Peredhil was young yet, barely an adult, and Yule still held an almost childish appeal for him. Though if Glorfindel was truthful with himself he also felt that appeal and he was far from a child.

Sitting down next to Glorfindel, Elladan looked curiously at the elder Elf. “Might I ask a question?” he said carefully. “Though I fear it will seem impolite.”

Glorfindel chuckled. “Do not worry about it,” he replied gently. “There is little that bothers me and well you know it. What is your question?”

Elladan chewed his lip before speaking. “You have lived many years and seen many Yule celebrations. Do you remember them all? Or do they simply fade into each other, just a long stream of years?”

“It is not always easy,” Glorfindel admitted. “I am old and there have indeed been many. As much as we might wish, we can not remember everything. Yet there are ways of preserving the most precious of memories.”

“There are?” Elladan asked hopefully. “Please tell me, for I do not wish to ever forget these times!”

“There is a tradition, started in Gondolin, called the Yule dance,” Glorfindel explained. “Turgon wrote the song for Idril when she was but a child and later as she grew, they added the dance. Have you never heard of it?”

“I have not,” Elladan admitted. “Such lovely things rarely make the history books.”

The golden lord’s face showed his disapproval. “They are too full of war and unpleasantness. A pity so few take the time to observe the far nicer times and customs. Still, that is unimportant now. Let us simply rectify your lack of knowledge in this matter.” Standing, Glorfindel strode into the centre of the room with such authority that he had no need to push past anyone.

“My friends!” he cried, spreading out his arms in a gesture of invitation. “Those who wish to join us in the Yule dance, please come and gather around the tree! You need not know it; I will show you the steps!”

Elladan chuckled at Glorfindel’s enthusiasm and high spirits, waiting to see what response the invitation would have.

Quiet murmurs of interest were heard about the room and several made their way through the crowd without hesitation. Ever the convincing and charming speaker, Glorfindel soon had a good number of people gathered near the tree, waiting for his instruction. Then, to his surprise and delight, Lindir approached him.

“I have studied some musical texts from that period, and I believe I have come across this song,” the minstrel said. “I think I can remember how it goes - if you wish, I will play for you.”

“That would be wonderful,” Glorfindel said, his delight clear in his voice. “I am certain you will do marvellously. With the correct music it will be just like years gone by!” Looking around, it pleased him greatly to see many of his friends present, including both twins, Elrond and even the heavily pregnant Celebrían.

When everyone who wished to participate was gathered, Glorfindel addressed them. “Form a circle around the tree and take the hand of the person on either side of you. The moves are quite simple and repeat themselves after the first cycle, following the nature of the song. Do as I do and within a verse or two you will have picked it up!” He smiled broadly. “Now, let the dance begin!”

Nodding to Lindir, he waited until the minstrel had played the opening notes, before raising his voice in song.

The song of Yuletide has begun,
Another turning of the sun,
Step ye hearts into the ring,
As new verses shall ye bring.

His feet moved in careful steps as he guided the ring of people around the tree. Slowly this time, giving them a chance to get used to it. They were this year’s new verse and as such, had to be brought into the song with care. His heart soared to see so many joining them and yet more watching - perhaps next year it would be their turn.

Gather now about the tree,
And cast thy mind to memory,
Of seasons past and yuletides gone,
And festive blessings on each one.

Closing his eyes, the golden lord let his feet move of their own accord as his mind and heart become lost in the past. So many Yules and each one special in its own way.

Winter in Valinor, when the world had been innocent and joy had been constant, growing only brighter with the reason to celebrate.

The first Yule in the Hither Lands, when darkness had touched them and yet, despite that, the season had never seemed quite so important or necessary. When they had first learned that hardship made joy all the sweeter.

Yule in Gondolin, his beloved and deeply missed home. He could still see his friends doing this very dance around their own carefully decorated tree; could still smell the special cakes Idril would gift them with; could still hear the music of Ecthelion’s flute as he played the songs they could do this very dance to.

And the first Yule in Imladris, when he had been uncertain and alone, an Elf out of time, but had been welcomed with open arms into the family.

All feet shall move in joyful sway,
Upon this newest yuletide day,
And the steps ye make this year,
Shall join the endless festive cheer.

Pausing, he addressed the dancers. “Choose something special about this Yule,” he told them. “Commit it to the song and to memory. Then next year when you perform the dance, remember it as you sing the second verse.”

He certainly knew what his memory would be - he would never forget the year he brought the dance to the Last Homely House. All he hoped was that it would come to mean as much to them as it did to him.

With that thought in mind, he sang the last verse.

Next winter shall a new verse bear,
And more stories shall we share,
Thy yuletide dance goes always on,
The ever-growing Elvensong.

As the last notes faded the dancers slowed, the circle slowly breaking apart. A low ripple of applause was heard as the watchers praised both Glorfindel and the other participants.

A smile of pure joy graced Glorfindel’s face then. Yes, it would become precious to them. They would do the dance each year, adding memories with each performance. Because that was what Yule really was. A dance for the past, for the future and for all the memorable experiences along the way.

THE END