"You're right good at picking out the little ones, girl." Sam smiled, pushing his shovel into the frozen soil at the trunk's base. No Yule tree was ever cut down for the parlour at Bag End, they were dug up neat as pansies and then planted back where they'd come from when the season ended.
Daisy and Sammie were the only children to come on this year's adventure, an epidemic of sniffles and coughs keeping the rest snugly under their mother's eye. Daisy was wearing her new grey gloves and hat, not caring that they didn't match with her faded yellow jacket and not inclined to wait three days for the new coat she'd been promised as a present. Sammie had a baggy woolen cloak, a hand-down from Ham and Merry before him, around his shoulders and a pair of lambskin boots on his feet. Daisy felt terribly sorry for him, because he couldn't feel the lovely crunch of the snow between his toes, but she supposed it was better that his feet stay nice and warm. Sammie got coughs in his chest, awful wracky things that made their parents look worried.
Uncle Frodo wore shoes too, but his were made of tooled leather and came from far away. The four of them put the little tree into the wheelbarrow they'd brought with them and set off, plucking bright holly as decoration and chattering merrily about the fun they were having over the festive period.
"Look, mistletoe!" Sammie shouted. "Can we get some?"
"I think we've enough greenery to fill the smial as it is, lad," Sam shook his head. Daisy scurried up beside her brother and planted a wet smack on his winter-red cheek. Sammie pulled a face and wiped at the kiss-soiled spot with the edge of his cloak.
"Yuck, germs."
"I don't have germs!" Daisy objected. Sammie kissed her back, and shoved a small handful of snow into her collar as he did so. The two ran about, giggling.
"Happy Yule, Sam," Frodo said, turning his eyes to look at the mistletoe and smirking.
"Happy Yule to you, too," Sam replied, giving him a decidedly non-wintery kiss.
~