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They'd been on the road from Glasgow for about an hour when Jim spoke up. "Are you sure we're on the right road?"
"For the third time, yes."
"Well, you and maps…"
"This isn't a map," Blair answered, holding up the paper. "It's a set of directions. If you'd rather be the navigator with your superior sense of direction, be my guest. I'll be glad to drive."
Jim snorted. "On the left side of the road?"
"I'm an excellent driver on both sides of the road. Unlike my travel companion, who's destroyed any number of vehicles." Blair suddenly pointed to the left. "Here's the turn for A-83. We’re almost there!" He checked the paper. "Well, halfway there. But it's the last change of road until we get to Lochgilphead."
"So, about another hour. We should make it before midnight."
"Yeah, this is perfect. Just in time for you to be the First Footer."
"And explain why I have to be a First Footer?"
"Well, it has to be a stranger who is welcomed into the household, which you will be. And it has to be a dark-haired man, since having a blond is a reminder of the Viking invaders and is considered very bad luck. You happen to have dark hair."
"I see."
"It's important that you wait until after midnight before stepping over the threshold. And you have to bring gifts."
"Which is why we have a basket of stuff."
"Yep. All the important stuff, including two bottles of Longmorn Single Malt."
Jim smiled. "That almost makes the trip worth it. I don't know how you let Naomi rope us into this. You indulge your mother too much."
Blair smiled softly at Jim. "I'm not doing it for her. She's a co-conspirator. I'm doing it for you."
"For me? Why?"
Blair sighed. "Jim, if it was up to you, we'd spend every vacation camping and fishing and hiking until we dropped dead on the trail. I love doing those things with you, but variety is the spice of life. You came all the way over to London with me to attend that conference and you were willing to turn around and go right back home. Naomi is visiting a friend here and she suggested it. This is just a little diversion to keep our life spicy." He looked at Jim. "Are you mad?"
Jim rolled his eyes, though in the dark it was a wasted gesture. "No, of course not." He sighed. "I know I can be a grouch about traveling. I guess I did so much in the army it doesn't have the appeal. But you've been my pied piper for the last twenty years. I won't stop following you now. It will be nice to see Naomi," he admitted, "and I've never been to Scotland."
"Me neither! We've already passed several lochs, where we could fish and there's this famous mountain not too far from here called Schiehallion. In the 18th century they used it to determine the mass of the Earth, can you imagine? They called it the Schiehallion Experiment. The locals call the mountain "the fairy hill". Wouldn't that be cool if we climbed it?"
Jim had long since ceased to be surprised by the bits of knowledge Blair pulled out of his brain. He smiled as his partner rattled on, Blair's soothing baritone a nice accompaniment to the long road trip. "We're here," he announced softly as he parked in front of a row of houses. He checked his watch. "And it looks like just in time. It's ten 'til twelve."
Jim hauled out the large basket of goodies. Blair inspected the contents. "Whisky, black buns, shortbread, coal, salt –oh!" Blair exclaimed, pulling a few coins out of his pocket and tossing them in, "we need to add a bit of gold."
He consulted his paper and pointed out a house that was entirely lit. Even from the street they could hear the party going full force inside. "Now, don't forget, we can't set foot over the threshold until after midnight."
They waited outside for the last couple of minutes, until a local church's bell conveniently tolled out the time. At the last chime, they knocked on the door. As it opened, Jim gently pushed Blair ahead of him. "You're dark-haired, too," he said in explanation, "and handsome to boot."
A large cheer went up as they entered, with many people calling out greetings:
“Blithe Hogmanay!”
"Guid New Year!"
"Happy Hogmanay!"
The basket was taken out of their hands and replaced with glasses of whisky, then they were chivvied back out the door, joining the streams of people who were visiting each of the neighbors' houses. Soon, a bagpiper walked up in full regalia, playing "Auld Lang Syne" as everyone sang.
Much later, when he was sitting and sipping an admittedly excellent glass of Longmorn, Jim thought it was one of the best ways he'd rung in the new year that he could remember.