Featuring (all Shirefolk hobbits): Filby (#29680) as Grincho Greensleeves, Frodo (#29612) as Cindy-Sue Twofoot, Willemina (#29051) as Timmothy, and Reginald (#10657) as Gabbo.

Grincho Greensleeve
Tall and dark, dark and thin,
Black of eye, and sallow of skin,
Head a tangled mass of hair
(blackish-brown should anyone care),
Nose a fat reddish bump,
Two squinted eyes, for neck a lump,
A mouth as as wide as a bullfrog's grin:
Grincho Greensleeve, that is him.

A sullen halfling, three-foot-four,
Grincho Greensleeve's much, much more
An ugly hobbit than ever's been seen.
His clothes are tattered and stained grass green.
But over these rags are thrown a sack
Of white, tossed across his back,
Hiding the form underneath
Of Grincho Greensleeve, the holiday thief.

'The three words that best describe you are as follows and I quote:
stink, stank, stunk.'

Cindy-Sue Twofoot
Thick curls the colour of dark honey grace the head of this little lass - her locks a drowsy-looking collection of tousled tangles, she seems not to mind it in the least, her bright blue eyes sparkling just above a tiny button nose and dimpled face. A tiny sunflower-yellow night-gown edged with lace falls to just above her ankles, nearly brushing the tops of her tiny feet - bare feet, covered with thick brown hair, nearly as curly as the locks adorning her head - and even more mussed! She seems quite small as well as young - in fact, she stands scarcely one and a half feet tall. . . .

Timothy Twofoot
Before you stands a young rustic hobbit somewhere in his mid-tweens. His tanned face reveals a buck-toothed smile, freckles, large brown eyes, and a mop of shaggy brown curls. He wears a pair relaxed khaki trousers, held up at his broad waist with a beaten-up belt of faded black leather. A thick yellow shirt is tucked in as neatly as any hobbit of his class would have it. His feet are large and so furry that his toes are completely covered by tangles brown curls.

Gabbo Biggs
The hobbit before you possesses a rather chubby face, accentuated by his large mouth. In spite of the fact that hes recently reached middle-age, the beings enormous eyes shine from beneath his brown forelock with some naivety. He is currently clad in a bulky red coat that descends to his knees. Gold-painted buttons hold the garment closed, securing the little being from the cold.

~~

In the hills north of Scary there is a small cave
That nobody visits, no matter how brave,
Where lives that most awful fiend, that knave,
That sneaky old hermit, Grincho Greensleeve.

Now Grincho is old, and Grincho is wise,
But he isn't nice in anyone's eyes.
Years of living alone have made him
A most ugly hobbit: tall, pale, and thin.

Now one night when Grincho looked out of his place,
He saw something that made a great frown on his face.
The folks in the Shire were celebrating, with pride,
That most festive of holidays... namely, Yuletide.

"What's this?" asked Greensleeve alone to himself,
"They're at it again? And nary an elf
Has thought about me! Well then, well, well, well,
I'll teach them a lesson... and steal Yule, as well!"

With this back into the cave Grincho went,
And upon something rotten the old grouch was bent.
He took a big sack, painted all white,
And put it over his clothes with all of his might.

Now Grincho did give cry, and there came
A pair of small goats that looked much the same.
They pulled a wood cart all filled with old sacks,
And Grincho jumped in, and whipped the goats' backs.

"On Hanna! On Nanna! You old foolish goats,
If you don't pull, you'll get no more oats!
On Hanna, on Nanna! You idiot beasts,
We're off to steal Yuletide, and ruin their feasts!"

The goats took off with speed and with flair.
Scary, Whitfurrows, Frogmorton: they were there
And gone in a flash. At last he did come
To the village of Hobbiton, the sneaky old bum.

Greensleeve rode over bridge and up hill,
And to Bagshot Row, way up past the Mill,
The Twofoot hole, he found with surprise,
Was left all wide open. He sneaked right inside.

A dark figure sneaks into Number Two Bagshot Row... into the Twofoot hole he goes. He walks into the living hall, and stops beneath a tree quite tall. His eyes light up with jealous greed, staring at trinkets beneath the tree... He grabs things up, again and again. When he'll stop, no one knows when.

"Hi Cindy," calls a weary Timothy Twofoot from the other bed in their tiny room, "can you go and see if that's Malcolm messing with the tree again? Me night vision tends to be too poor to do me any good at night."

"By golly, by gee, by gosh, by gum... this stealing of Yuletide is awfully fun..." Greensleeves laughs slyly to himself, as he snatches toy soldier and little stuffed elf. "Old Daddy is in for quite a surprise when he wakes to see nothing in front of his eyes!"

And Cindy-Sue Two -
(Well, Twofoot, it was - )
Got up with a yawn,
At the call of her cous.

With slumbering eyes she wandered into the room
Where Old Grincho was - slinking in the gloom -
And her tiny face fell, her blue eyes big and sad,
As she cried, "Sir! But WHY are you taking our things - ain't that bad?"

Timothy Twofoot falls back into a deep slumber and hears no more of the noise from the living room.

"Eh, what? What is this?" Grincho asks. "Well, nothing's amiss..." He hides the sack behind his back. "There's nothing at all wrong with me... for I am a... holiday fairy, you see!" He pulls a wreath of a nearby hook. "This wreath, you see, is broken right here... and that's why I have come. Don't fear. I'll take it back to my... Yuletide elves, who will fix it up nicely to go back on your shelves.

There is a polite tapping on the front door. The panelling cracks, and Gabbo's chubby little face appears, timid voice calling softly. "Hello? Hello?"

"Oh! Oh, in that case," the lass said,
"I'm sowwy to bother - I'll go back to bed. . . ."

Grincho waits a moment as the girl walks back out of the room. "Good girl, good good good. Go back to bed... before I clobber you right on the head..."

Gabbo creeps in a few steps further, casting around in the dim light. He bumps into a wall and stumbles back a few steps. "Oh my.." The Biggs murmurs. Then calls again softly. "Hello? hello? hello? Is there anybody in there?"

As Timothy sleeps like a Yule Log, Malcolm crawls out from under the bed and barks as there are sounds of someone knocking at the door.

"Hush Malcom!" scolds Timmy, and throws a pillow at the black terrier.

"Gabbo! Gabbo, is that you?"
A small voice calls - yup, it's Cindy-Sue Two -
"I don't know whom that is, or what he's doing here,
"But I don't believe him one bit - he's taking our cheer!"

Then with a sigh, Timothy awakens and walks wearilly towards the door stumbles over the cat as Cindy answers the door.

"Hi Cindy, was that Gabbo who was making all that noise?"

"HI Cindy, the sun'll be up soon," notes Timothy with a big yawn, "Let's fix Grandpa "Daddy" and the others a Yule breakfast. Then with a gasp, he opens up the door and asks, "Where's our wreath?"

Cindy-Sue Two(foot) says, "Remember, I *tried* - to tell you, that is! The hobbit, he took it - " Cindy-Sue sniffs. "He said he was going to fix it. . . ." Frowning, she adds, "I tried to say something - but no one listened - "

Old Grincho sneaks out of the Twofoot hole, sack of stolen goodies in hand. He manages to get past Gabbo without the Biggs noticing him. Walking a few yards down Bagshot Row to the east, toward the red door of the Gamgee hole.

The villain sneaks in, greatly admiring with jealous greed the decorations about the smial. The Gaffer and his kin are fast asleep, of course, and he makes himself busy picking up whatever he finds about: wreaths, toys, and other trinkets. At last he simply grabs the tree and pulls it and his sack right out the door, heaving it with a grunt onto his cart. He laughs with evil pride ad he jumps onto the driver's seat and picks up the reigns.

(Unfinished)