It is not unusual among writers and readers of LOTR fan fic to have an apoplectic fit at the thought of straying so far from canon as to have Frodo

1. Not sail into the West.

2. Stay in the Shire and marry a worthy Hobbit-lass and ..

3. Live a good long life ’happily till the end of his days’.

Readers will cry! No! It will be a Mary Sue! No! It is NOT Tolkien canon. No! Frodo is too wounded by his hurts during the quest to live for long in Middle-earth. And.. No! This will bollox up everything!!! What about Sam becoming Mayor and having those 13 children with Rosie? What if Frodo goes and has kids of his own? And what if they inter-marry with Sam’s kids and...NO! There goes the whole lineage of the Gamgees and Fairbairns and the whole dang Shire!

But an author here dares to say.....

None of those things have to ..necessarily... happen. Not.. well.... entirely.

The author hates Mary Sues. A nice loving story does not have to be a Mary Sue and it isn’t going to be.

Tolkien COULD have let Frodo stay in the Shire and feel well enough to go on and have a fairly happy life. Hobbits ARE ‘amazing creatures’ after all and very ‘hard to kill.’

And Sam can still be Mayor and have all those kiddies and Frodo can have his without thoroughly messing up Hobbit genealogy.

So the author here sets about attempting to prove her theory. This may take awhile. This story may go anywhere.. within the realm of the spirit of Tolkien canon. The author doesn’t know since she gets these ideas and writes them as they go along and often surprises herself with what the characters get up to. She thinks it will be a fairly happy Hobbity story. But you know she likes angst so it’s just bound to turn up here and there. You may need a hanky now and then. She isn’t sure yet. Oh, no, never mind.. You will need a hanky so have one handy but you will smile, too. A story chock full of all the Hobbits has to make you smile often. And she thinks they will all be there. Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin (the little Dickens!), Rosie, Elanor, Frodo Gardner, the Gaffer, most likely Ted making some kind of trouble.. the whole kit and kaboodle of the Shire if she can squeeze them in. This may be a long fic if the author (all right, I!) can stick with it. And I mean to!

Story suggestions and non-flamatory remarks more than welcome! Mean criticism makes the author cry.

Usual Disclaimer: I don’t make a red cent off of this. Everybody except my original characters are Tolkien’s and belong to the Tolkien Estate. This is a work of fanfiction written simply because I love Hobbits and Frodo most of all!

                                          ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

CHAPTER ONE

An Early Spring

Frodo’s first few months as Deputy Mayor of Hobbiton and by extension of the Shire were so busy and fraught with the problems of rebuilding what the ruffians had ruined, and the replanting of crops and trees, and settling squabbles amongst dispossessed Hobbits seeking to regain their properties that Sharkey’s men had appropriated that he hardly had time to think of his own troubles.

“I will be glad when your Father can resume his duties.” he told Poppy Whitfoot, daughter of the old Mayor Will Witfoot who was recovering his health and girth after being a prisoner for many months in the Lockholes.

Poppy removed her spectacles and looked at Frodo.

“You’ve been doing an excellent job, Frodo. Everything is finally beginning to return to normal.”

“I suppose it is. I’ve only had to arbitrate five property disputes and sign 20 documents all saying virtually the same thing for the 100th time this week. A slow day.” He said facetiously. He was tired and he yawned widely and wished for home and tea.

Poppy felt much the same.

“I’m going to make us some tea.” She declared and with brisk efficiency, as was her wont, Poppy quickly had the kettle heating on the Mayoral office’s small stove. She got her ever-full tin of biscuits from the cupboard and set them upon a plate upon the Mayoral desk. The water boiled promptly and she poured it over the deliciously aromatic tea leaves she had spooned carefully into the teapot.

She set this on the desk as well and Frodo reached for it. It all smelled wonderful.

Poppy swatted his hand lightly.

“It has to steep for a full three minutes, as you know very well.”

Frodo meekly withdrew his hand to wait the prescribed amount of time.

“Yes, Poppy. You’re right.”

Poppy nodded.

“You MAY have s biscuit.” She said.

“Oh, thank you. Did you make these?”

“No actually. I got them from Rose. She’s a much better cook than I am.”

Frodo sighed with a small smile, since this was very, very true. Poppy was an intelligent, well-organized, well-read (most unusual in a Hobbit-lass!), neat and primly attractive maid or maiden-lady to be more accurate, of the Shire. Age-wise she was something more than a tween and less than a matron. Poppy wouldn’t tell her age and few dared to ask, as she did have, when the occasion called for it, a fine temper. Poppy was rarely crossed not because she was cruel or haughty but for the simple reason that she had an air about her that called for respect. She always seemed to know full-well what she was about and her actions most often bore this out as fact. She did everything well... except for the culinary arts. She knew it and accepted it and bought most of her food for herself and her Father Will and now for Frodo the acting Mayor, whom she was most ably assisting, from the shops in Hobbiton or from those others who could wield a cook-pan without setting it , the food, or the kitchen ablaze.

“Ah...” Frodo said. “Good.”

Poppy pursed her lips at him in mock-insult. This was a normal day’s comradely exchange.

Indeed Frodo didn’t know what he would have done without Poppy’s assistance. When he had offered to take over for a time as mayor he hadn’t expected the chaos that awaited him when he first entered the mayor’s office. The ruffians had reduced the normally tidy place to a welter of strewn and begrimed papers and trash. He had nearly dismayed until Poppy had walked in and declared she was there to help. She knew all about what needed to be done and where everything went since she had been assisting her father for years. Frodo wasn’t to worry. She would have everything back in shape in a snap. And she did! The next day the office looked as if nothing had ever happened and Frodo began his tenure as mayor far more easily than he had ever expected.

And Poppy had kept things going along quite smoothly ever since. Not a small feat considering the propensity of Hobbits to wrangle legally for the longest time over the smallest of details of the simplest transactions and rulings.

“Bless you, Poppy.” Frodo said as he pondered her invaluable help.

“For what? Not baking?”

“Well yes, for that.... But for everything. You’re a wonder!”

“Oh, well, yes.. of course.” She said feigning hauteur. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome. Dare I partake of the tea now?”

Poppy looked at the clock on the mantle.

“Yes........ Now. Help yourself. “

“After you.” Frodo said, pouring her a cup and handing it to her.

Poppy thanked him and drew her chair opposite the desk and sat down and they munched contently on Rosie’s marvelous ginger snaps and Poppy’s perfectly brewed tea. She COULD brew perfect tea.

When they were finished and the plate and teapot were empty they sat back and both turned to look out the front window which revealed a gloriously bright early spring afternoon. It was April 6 Shire Year 1420.

“It’s much to nice outside to work any longer today.” Frodo sighed.

“I totally agree.” Poppy replied.

“Good.” Frodo got up from his Mayoral chair pushed it beneath his Mayoral desk and opened the Mayoral door. “The office is now closed.” He declared, flipping the Office Closed sign around so everyone would know it.

“I suppose I should get home and see to Father.” Poppy said.

“Oh, it’s early yet. He won’t be expecting you.”

“Well... “

“And you said he is nearly well and rounded out to nearly his original old self.”

“Yes.... nearly. A few more pounds to go though, I should say.”

Poppy was very good company and it was far to lovely an afternoon to spend all on his own. It was nice to have someone intelligent to chat with. Not that Sam was not bright, only he tended to prefer to talk about the garden and the effects of the weather on the roses and the peas. Merry was a witty one but he was home in Buckland right now and Pip...well Pip was something else all together. But Poppy... Now Poppy actually read books AND enjoyed them! What’s more she understood them and could even conceive of what the world was like beyond the borders of the Shire. Moreover she CARED about what it was like. She was one of the few Hobbits around him that could begin to comprehend just what exactly he and Sam and Pippin and Merry had done on their quest.

Or their Mad Adventure as it was more generally called around Hobbiton. And she seemed aware of his moods which, he was sorry to say, were not always their best since his return home. He often felt oddly out of sorts and sad. And at times, as on the past March 13, he felt quite ill. Poppy never minded him being a sad, grumpy, peaked Hobbit. She somehow knew there was an excellent reason for his afflictions and unlike the other Hobbits never felt this in any way made him ‘cracked’ or somehow un-hobbity. This was just how Frodo was now and that was all. Why make things harder for him, she thought.

Yes, Poppy was very good company. And a sensible and, in the right light, a pretty, somewhat thinner-than-usual, dark-hired hobbit lass. There must be some Fallohide in her background as well, Frodo had often thought to himself. We Fallohides tend towards being slender.

Just then two youngsters rushed past them nearly crashing into Frodo and Poppy.

“Here, now! Be careful you two.” Frodo told them. They turned out to be two of the young Bolgers.

“Sorry, Mayor Baggins, your Honor, Sir!” The eldest paused long enough to say.

They made to dash off again.

“What’s going on?” Frodo asked.

They were raring to be off and getting impatient.

“The Party Tree!” They both exclaimed as if that answered the question and they hurried away as fast as their small furry feet could carry them.

Frodo and Poppy looked at each other then shrugged.

“Shall we go have a look?” Frodo suggested.

“It does seem like that’s where everyone else is going.” Poppy agreed as several more Hobbits scurried by.

“Let’s go then.” Frodo said, offering her his arm in a gentlemanly manner.

Nearly all of the folk of Hobbiton were in the Party Field chattering away excitedly.

As Frodo and Poppy joined the group it was plain to see what had attracted al this attention.

The small mallorn seed Sam had planted not long ago had been a wonder before this. It had grown into a hardy sapling seemingly overnight and it’s growth had been phenomenal every since the first spring-thaw. Now it was taller than all the hobbits and it’s branches were spreading out in promise of shade in the summer.

But what was astonishing and delighting everyone this fine afternoon was the fact that beautiful golden mallorn flowers had burst open all over the young tree and the petals drifted down gently on their upturned faces. And the air was full of the scent of far off Lothlorien.

The other Hobbits simply thought it smelled lovely but Frodo was carried back to that Golden Land full of the light of the Lord and Lady Galadriel. The rare timeless days they had spent there free from fear and pain in the midst of so much peril.

There were tears in his eyes that he was completely unaware of and as these spilled down his cheeks he looked across the crowd of chattering hobbits and saw Samwise staring up at the tree with the same wet streaks running down his round cheeks as well.

Sam ran over to where Frodo and Poppy stood.

“Mr. Frodo! Oh, look. It’s bloomed! It’s first year and it’s bloomed!”

“Yes, Sam, it has!”

And a look of knowing and understanding passed between Frodo and Sam that spoke of all they had been through and how very glad they felt at this amazing moment.

Poppy drew out her handkerchief and politely blew her nose as she stepped away to let the two friends embrace each other as their joyous, yet, melancholy-tinged emotions flooded their hearts to over-flowing.

After the blooming of the Mallorn tree it seemed that every flower, plant and tree in meadow, garden, forest or field in the Shire was competing with one another to bloom the fastest, to grow the tallest, be most fragrant, the most colorful, and most important to the Hobbits, the most delicious-tasting.

There was much spontaneous feasting and since the hops were of the best quality ever in the history of ale-making, home-brew flowed freely and liberally in every Smial.

Merry, if rather wobbly, Hobbits were everywhere celebratory at the drop of a hat.

It was quite difficult to escape a party on any given day. But Frodo did try. Will Witfoot was gradually re-assuming his post as Mayor and Frodo had more time to himself. So he could sneak off to his favorite spot beneath his reading tree if he was very careful to cross through only back gardens and avoid well-traveled paths.

Parties were all well and good but a good book an peace and quiet were still the things Frodo liked best. Especially since his return from....everything. He just didn’t feel up to all this frivolity. He wanted to rest. He was tired and pained more than he cared to tell anyone by his wounds of knife and sting and what could only be described as the poisonous influence left on his heart and mind by the Ring.

He was not the same Frodo Baggins who had left the Shire to destroy the Ring. He would never be that person again. He often wondered if what Saruman had foretold about him was true. That he would have neither health nor a long life. Perhaps. But Saruman’s voice was the last weapon that the evil wizard had been left with and they all knew his words were not to be trusted.

Still Gandalf and Elrond had also seemed concerned about him and the way his wounds had never really healed. They had hinted about the possibility of his leaving with them to travel into the West.

He sighed.

“Not yet.”

He still loved this place. The Shire and all its dear little secret places. So green and fragrant and full of life and a peace that was not to be felt anywhere else in Middle-earth. Not the peace that the elves knew but good plain Hobbit serenity that came from living simple lives close to the earth and to one another. Hobbits certainly could get into disagreements but they were rarely long-lasting and could usually be resolved over a few pints of ale. Hobbits loved each other and loved life. And it was a very good life to live.

Frodo wanted very much to live it. But could he?

Time would tell, he thought.

He leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes. It was a lovely warm day and in the shade of his tree he let his book slide into the grass and he dozed comfortably off to sleep.

“Ahem.”

A voice awoke him.

The shadow of Poppy Whitfoot fell across his feet as she stood in the late afternoon sun with her arms crossed and she looked down at him significantly.

“Have I forgotten something?” he asked her. He feared he had over-looked some sort of mayoral duty but he had been sure that Will had everything in order that morning.

“Nothing terribly important. The Bracegirdles were in from Staddle with some petty complaints. But Father dealt with them.”

“Good. I’m glad I missed them.” Frodo closed his eyes again but Poppy remained where she was.

“Is there something else?” He asked peeking at her out of one eye.

“I just wondered where you’d wandered off to.”

“Really? And how did you know I’d be here. This is my secret reading tree.”

“YOUR secret reading tree? Well, I thought it was MY secret reading tree.”

“Well since we are among the few around here who like to read perhaps it can be OUR secret reading tree. If that’s all right with you?”

“I suppose it will have to be.” Poppy’s eyes were twinkling as they bantered with each other. They had gotten to be good friends during Frodo’s months as acting Mayor and she was feeling a little sad that he wouldn’t be in that position for much longer.

“You haven’t brought a book with you, Poppy.” Frodo pointed out.

“And you weren’t reading.”

“I HAD been reading.”

“Oh, I see. With your eyes closed?”

“Before they were closed.”

“Have you had lunch? It’s nearly tea time, you know.”

“You haven’t brought me anything to eat have you?” He said in mock fear.

“No, don’t worry. I will not make you eat any of my atrociously cooked food. I won’t even eat it.”

“You are a rarity, Poppy. A hobbit who cannot cook to save her life.”

“I’ve heard the same thing about you.” Poppy said sitting herself down companionably next to him beneath the tree.

“THAT is not true at all. Bilbo was a wonderful cook and I learned a lot from him.”

“Is that why Sam and Rosie do all the cooking at Bag End?”

“NO! They enjoy cooking. I hate to deprive them of doing anything they like so well. And I DO cook from time to time. AND it’s edible, as well.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is.”

“It is perfectly edible. Poppy you are bating me.”

Poppy smiled at him archly.

She scooped up his book.

“What are you reading? Oh, it’s in Elvish. What does it say?”

“It’s the story of the lands in the West. Over the sea.”

“Is there any reason why you are particularly interested in such an obscure subject?”

“No. Well. Not really. Refreshing my memory about it, that’s all.” But his tone of voice was suddenly guarded and sad.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Oh?”

“You have a lot of secrets locked inside that head of yours, Frodo Baggins.”

“Do I?”

“I think you do, yes.”

“Perhaps. Am I not allowed a few secrets to keep to myself?”

“Certainly. But sometimes the things we keep locked inside might be better let out and shared.”

“That would depend on who they are to be shared with. I would certainly never share a secret with the Sackville-Bagginses or the Bracegirdles.”

“Oh, no. Of course not! Who would? But surely you can share a few of those secrets with a friend.”

“Like you?”

“I do hope you think of me as a friend, Frodo.”

“Indeed I do. One of my very best friends.”

Poppy smiled and.. yes! The indomitable Poppy Whitfoot was blushing.

Frodo smiled back at her feeling very pleased with himself. Obviously the old Baggins charm had not been left behind him in Mordor.

With a quirk of his eyebrow Frodo got to his feet.

“What say we have Sam and Rosie pack us up a picnic dinner and we’ll go down to the willow grove and share it together. It’s the perfect spot for a long talk.”

He offered his arm to her and she looped her own through it.

“The willow grove, hmnn? I’ve heard stories about you and the willow grove.”

“From my younger years. And greatly exaggerated.”

“Has your adventure changed you so much?”

“I suppose we’ll find out.”

“I thought you said we were going to have a long talk?”

“Whatever else did you think I meant?”

Poppy swatted Frodo’s dark curls. And Frodo laughed and gave her a more than friendly hug.

TBC.

"Frodo, your appetite is improving. When you first returned home you ate so little." Poppy said.

"Oh, Poppy, don't you fuss over me, too. Sam and Rose are always going on about that, and so do my cousins. I've always been thin for a Hobbit. I'm a Fallohide, after all."

"I'm not fussing over you. I'm just making an observation. It must be trying to have everyone expecting you to...... to...What do they all expect to happen to you, anyway?"

"I'm not sure. exactly. They all saw some frightening things happen to me, especially Sam. And I'm not as well as I once was, I'll admit. But they do overdo the worrying and smothering. I hardly think I'll keel over dead tomorrow."

"I should hope not. I enjoy your company far too much to have you doing that."

"I enjoy being with you, too, Poppy. There's no nonsense about you. And you're far smarter than any other Hobbit I know. But don't tell Merry Brandybuck I said that since he believes himself to be the smartest Hobbit in the Shire."

Poppy laughed.

"Oh. neither Merry nor I are the smartest in the Shire. You are, Frodo. You've always been a scholar and you never seem to forget anything you learn. And you are very wise. These things are very rare hereabouts. Most of the hobbit lads are nearly absolute dolts. You're the only one who can talk about anything intelligent. In fact you never say anything doltish at all."

"Thank you, Poppy, you are by far the best Hobbit woman I know of and that is high praise coming from you."

"You're the only one apart from my Father who thinks it's a good thing for a Hobbit lass to use her mind.'

"Or their own minds, either. I don't even try to make them understand what's happened in the world outside the Shire. And they'd never believe it anyway. But we all nearly lost everything we hold dear and they know nothing of it apart from what they put up with from the ruffians." Frodo's voice drifted off and he seemed to be looking at things far away. "They can have no idea......"

"It was bad wasn't it? What happened to you."

Frodo sighed.

"Bad enough. But there were some very good things. Rivendell, the elves, Lothlorien, Ithilian, Gondor under the new King. Those things were quite wonderful.....beautiful."

"I should like to see some of these places."

"Perhaps you will see Gondor, for it is now the time of Men, But the elves are leaving. Theie time has ended here in Middle-earth."

"This is very sad. Where are they going?"

"Across the Sea, into the Uttermost West. The Undying Lands."

"That is the book you were reading."

"Yes. They think I should go with them."

"Why?!" Poppy was very distressed by this news.

"Oh... They fuss over me, too. Gandalf, I think, believes I will die if I remain here."

"Oh, no! Surely not, Frodo.'

"Perhaps he is right. At times I feel as if all the life is draining from me. I was hurt badly by Morgal blade, and the sting of a very dangerous, very large spider.....and...... the Ring...... it did many things to me that I, even now, do not fully understand. I feel as if it has poisoned me in heart and mind and from this especially I believe I shall never recover. It may very well kill me in the end."

"But the Ring is gone....."

"It's effects linger..... within me. I fear they always will."

It had grown dark and in the starlight Frodo's face seemed to glow faintly with a pale light and his eyes were large and reflected the moonlight ethereally in their deep blue depths.

Poppy reached out and took Frodo's hand. It felt chilled yet with a hidden warmth against her own. Frodo was changed. He was not the merry young Hobbit who had left the Shire on a great adventure. He was someone... something else.. entirely now.

But would the changes that had been wrought on him destroy him. He had a great inner strength that Poppy had always sensed and admired. It was a strength he seemed barely aware of himself.

"Do you want to leave here, Frodo?"

"No. Not yet, anyway."

"What do YOU want, Frodo?"

"Well, right now, Poppy, I'd really like to kiss you."

"I think I'd quite like that myself."

"Good."

And with that Frodo leant nearer and their lips touched lightly then more certainly and surely as they drew into each other's arms.

It was the first time that Frodo felt truly at home and at peace since his return to the Shire.

No. Wizards and elves do not know everything. And next to nothing about the durability and resilience of Hobbits.

TBC.

Gandalf was perplexed.

“You are looking extraordinarily well, my dear Hobbit.”

“You seem rather disappointed.” Frodo replied.

“No, no...not at all. Surprised is all. I hate to be pessimistic.....”

From the hallway Samwise could be heard to cough significantly.

Frodo smiled and waited for Gandalf to go on.

Gandalf gave the hallway a disapproving look.

“Frodo....... no one has ever fully recovered from such wounds as you have endured.” he said seriously.

“Has anyone ever gone through exactly what I have?”

“You know the answer to that. No. No one. Not exactly.”

“And never a Hobbit.”

“Certainly not.”

“Then how can anyone know for certain how a Hobbit will react to such things?”

Gandalf’s nose twitched and his bushy eyebrows drew together in consternation.

“One may make an educated guess.” he harumphed.

“Only a guess, though.”

“A well-educated guess. You should not be doing so very well.”

“You are disappointed.”

“Frodo.... I simply did not expect this.”

Frodo did look very well. He was getting most of the color back in his cheeks and had filled out his still slender form to nearly his former healthy shape. Such a recovery from Morgul wounds had never been seen before. Never. It was enough to make a wizard feel it was high time he retired if his prognostications could be so faulty.

“Frodo. I am most extraordinarily pleased. Very pleased. I only ask that you do not allow yourself to get your hopes raised too much. Perhaps... in time... the effects of your trials will re-occur. Perhaps.”

“I expect they will but I have always recovered from such episodes. And I am finding I do not fear them as I once did”

“Frodo, there is the chance that they will get worse.”

“You do sound rather pessimistic, Gandalf.”

“I am only suggesting that you view you situation in a realistic way.”

“You speak of chances. Their is a chance that I may step outside and a wagon... most likely driven by Ted Sandyman, will run me down. But I do not live in fear of such things.”

“It’s not quite the same thing.”

“Isn’t it? Gandalf..... Gandalf! You really don’t know, do you?” Frodo was laughing at the White Wizard and the White Wizard was not terribly pleased.

Frodo impulsively hugged his beloved friend.

“You don’t know. No one knows where their lives will take them. It’s all right, Gandalf. That’s the way of things. I am prepared to chance that I may live on as well as possible here in the Shire that I love amongst all those that are dear to me.”

“Not all, Frodo.”

Frodo hugged the Wizard again warmly and sadly.

“No. Not all. I know you will be leaving. And the elves. But that is what you must do. You are going to the place you where you belong. Gandalf, my dearest Gandalf, I belong here. This is my home. The Hobbits are my people. I may not have all the health I had once but that is not unusual as one grows older. I can endure what I must to live here in my own land. I can, Gandalf. And I ask that you not worry on my account.”

“Oh, Frodo, Frodo..... I shall miss you, my dear boy.” “And I shall miss you most terribly. You know I shall. Still there may be opportunities for you to visit me before you go. In fact quite a very important reason for you to return on October 6.”

“Indeed?”

“Do wizards ever preside at weddings?”

Gandalf coughed and spluttered dramatically.

“Whatever do you mean, Frodo? And on October the sixth? That is the day you were stabbed on Weathertop! You have been ill on that day ever since. ”

“Gandalf, I do, of course, know that. It isn’t something I’m likely to forget. And as for what I mean I should think the meaning is very plain. I wish for you to preside at my wedding to Poppy Whitfoot. Why shouldn‘t I replace an unhappy memory with a pleasant one?”

Gandalf’s wise old eyes seem ready to pop out of their sockets.

“You seem shocked. Simply because Bilbo was a confirmed bachelor is no reason to expect me to follow him in such a course.”

Gandalf was still struck speechless, which was hitherto unheard of.

“I’m not like Bilbo in many ways. Gandalf you act as if I had told you I was preparing to enter a life of crime rather than settle down with a lovely hobbit-lass and live the way a nice normal hobbit-lad is meant to.”

“You are not an average hobbit-lad, Frodo.”

“I am, Gandalf! More than you might believe. Though I will admit to being a shade brighter than some of my fellows.”

“A shade?! An entire world’s light and shadow brighter.”

“Thank you, Gandalf. I may be a bright Hobbit but I am a Hobbit nevertheless.”

“And you are the most amazing creatures.”

“Yes. That we are, my dear, dear Gandalf. So you will be here for me and Poppy on the sixth of October?’

“Dear Frodo, I had better be, it would appear.” Gandalf was still scowling with worry.

“I’ll be fine, Gandalf.” Frodo reassured the White Wizard.

“I most sincerely hope so.”

“Remember that one word.....‘amazing’.” Frodo said with a bright twinkle in his eye.

TBC

Trouble in the Shire

or

When hobbit-lasses clash

A satire in the setting of my AU happy hobbits tale Had Things Been Different

Not my hobbits, Tolkien’s. Just borrowing them.

This was a bit of funny stuff that came to me a couple of months ago. Though it’s just a little AU from my AU, I’m including it here because it introduces some new characters that will turn up from time to time in this longer tale.

Frodo was interrupted from the peaceful enjoyment of his morning tea by a knock at the door. Sam was off with Rosie to the Cottons.

Now much more than before he had begun to emulate Bilbo’s tendency to avoid answering the door when unexpected people called. Things had been so busy since his return to the Shire what with all the scouring and whatnot that he now longed mightily for some peace and quiet.

He sighed and remained at the kitchen table taking another swallow of honey flavored tea.

The knocking came again. The visitor was not going away it seemed.

So with resignation Frodo rose and went to open the door.

He did so and there stood Bluebell Sandybank. He hadn’t seen her since long before leaving on the Quest at... yes.. it had been a rather raucous night at the Green Dragon. As he recalled Bluebell had been very aggressive and he had had far too many cups of ale and whatever had transpired was something of a blur.

“Um.. Hello Bluebell, what brings you here?”

“You do, silly.” she said as she waltzed inside swishing her ruffled petticoats flirtatiously.

“Um... Really?” Actually Bluebell was not really his type of lass. He preferred quieter more thoughtful girls. In fact quite fond of Poppy Whitfoot who was assisting him at the Mayor’s office while her father Will recovered. A nice bookish lass, sedate and intelligent who knew how to carry on a good conversation about obscure subjects. He smiled wistfully at the thought of Poppy.

Bluebell thought he was smiling at her.

“I missed you while you were away, Fro...do.” Bluebell trilled quite near his ear.

It wasn’t that unpleasant it was just not what he was expecting at this time of morning and it was coming from the wrong girl.

He coughed slightly.

“Would you care for some tea?” he asked as he moved away from her backwards towards the kitchen.

“I’ve had mine already. It’s you I came to see.” And she tickled him under his chin.

“But.. umm...well.. I must be getting into town. I’m the mayor right now, you know.” He actually hadn’t planned on going in till the afternoon but since his quiet morning had been interrupted he felt he should make an escape to what would be the now relative peace of the office. And Poppy would be there.

Oh blast! He almost said out loud. No! He’d quite forgotten. Poppy was going to be stopping by soon ostensibly bringing some papers that needed signing.

“I think it’s wonderful that you are the Mayor, Fro...do.”

He rubbed his ear and backed further away.

“Bluebell would you mind not doing that?”

“Doing what?” She trilled into his ear yet again.

“That!”

“Whatever is wrong with you, Frodo? You never used to be so... shy.”

“Oh, no, I mean, yes, I was shy.”

“Not that night at the Green Dragon.”

What had he done? He wished he could recall.

“That was a long time ago.”

“Not THAT long.” Bluebell breathed as she nudged Frodo backwards into the easy chair that was right behind him.

Then much to his consternation she sat herself provocatively on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled his neck.
It was then that Frodo noticed Poppy at the window. She was looking in at the proceedings with an inscrutable expression on her face. She adjusted her spectacles to see more clearly. She shook her head. She moved away from the window towards Bag End’s front door.

“Bluebell, please get off of me, if you wouldn’t mind.” Frodo begged.

Bluebell giggled and bit his ear-lobe.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, as Poppy opened the door and entered the parlor.

“Good heavens, Bluebell Sandybank, get off of Frodo, your’re not his type in the least.”

Frodo laughed with relief. Good old Poppy. She was absolutely perfect.

“Please DO get off of me and go home like a good girl, Bluebell.” Frodo encouraged Bluebell by struggling to his feet while pushing her away.

“Well, Frodo! I don’t know what you mean.” Bluebell exclaimed indignantly. Her vamp powers had never failed her before. There must be something seriously wrong with Frodo Baggins, she decided.

“You are not his type. Now go away.“ Poppy insisted.

“Well I never...” Bluebell muttered as she stumbled out the door.

Poppy was about to add another remark when she spotted onlookers gawking outside. And when she saw who they were she slammed the door shut.

“Oh no!” she cried.

“What is it Poppy, dear.” Frodo said as he hugged her and kissed her cheek.

“Didn’t you see who was watching AND listening to all this?”

“No, Bluebell was blocking my view.”

“Miss Oregano and a bunch of her ‘pupils’. That’s who.”

Frodo blinked uncomprehendingly.

“You don’t mean you don’t know?” Poppy exclaimed.

“Evidently not.”
“Darling, pour me some tea.” Poppy said sitting herself familiarly at the table and taking a piece of his toast and munching on it.

He obliged and after refilling his own cup sat down next to her.

“What IS going on?” he asked.

“Frodo, my dear, you really should get your nose out of your books more often and look about you.”

“I frequently take my nose out of my books and look about.”

“But what do you see?”

“Ummmn... not everything, I presume.”

“Obviously. Aren’t you aware of all the talk that’s been going on around the place since your return.”

“Talk about what?” he bit into another piece of toast and marmalade.

“You, you goose!”

“Really? What are they saying, and who exactly are saying what?”

“Kiss me!”

This wasn’t an answer but Frodo didn’t mind complying. So he did.

“All right, you can stop now.” Poppy said.

“Do you really want me too?”

“That’s not the point. She’s gone now.”

“Who’s gone?”

“Miss Oregano. She just stomped off with her little Oddlings trailing behind her.”

“Oddlings? Poppy, you are getting me very confused. What ARE you talking about?”

“Well, that’s what she calls them and herself. Oddlings.”

“Why?”
“Because they think of themselves that way. It’s their own name for it.”

“For what?”

“Let me start at the beginning.”

“I think you should.” Frodo was not understanding any of this but Poppy was adorable and he kissed the tip of her nose.

“Now listen, Frodo, because it’s you and Sam and your cousins everyone is talking about.”

“That’s not terribly unusual.”

“But it’s what they are saying and everything that’s been going on that matters. All right. Here it is. Miss Oregano primarily is saying you love Sam.”

“I do love Sam.”

“Or that you love Merry.”

“I do. And Pip, as well.”

“Frodo.......”

“What?”

“Surely you are smart enough to understand what I mean.”

He thought about it for several minutes and then the penny dropped.

“Oh! You mean.... LOVE them.”

“Yes dear.”

Frodo laughed at the notion.

“They think we are...Odd?” he chuckled.

“That’s what Miss Oregano and her lasses think.”

“Oooh. I see! That’s strange.. I mean Odd.”

“THEN we have what Bootsy Woodbine has been up to.”

“Bootsy an old dear. She was in love with Bilbo for years and now she looks after me when Sam isn’t around.”

“You knew that about Bootsy?”

“Everyone knows that about Bootsy. And she’s a wonderful cook. Don’t tell Sam but she’s better at it than he is. She’s always bringing me the nicest cakes and you know she’s making the cake for our engagement party.”

“She dotes on you.”

Frodo smiled. He loved to be doted on.

“Don’t look so complacent about it. She also gets into lots of scraps defending you.”

“Defending me. I don’t feel in any need of defending. What does she defend me from?”

“From gossip. And do you know why she is called Bootsy and not her proper name?”

“Well, her proper name is a mouthful , Heliotrope, and she also has lots of boots.”

“And what does Bootsy do with those boots.”

“Wears them? Some hobbits do wear them and Bootsy always has.”

“Not all of them. She keeps most of them for tossing at Miss Oregano.”

“Why?”

“Because of what Miss Oregano says about you and Sam and your cousins. It drives Bootsy quite near to madness.”

Frodo thought about this and smiled.

“Has this been happening a lot lately?”

“Every time Miss Oregano goes past Bootsy’s smial Bootsy comes out in a rage and tosses another boot at Miss Oregano’s rump.”

“It is rather hard to miss.”

“And Bootsy never misses.”

“She was quite the cricket player in her youth.”

“Frodo, you’re not taking this seriously enough.”

“It’s rather funny.”

“There’s more.”

“What?”

“You’ve attracted quite a following among the younger hobbit-lasses.’

“Well, that’s quite nice.” Frodo said, pleased.

“They sit around and make up tales about you in which they save you from
all sorts of danger.”

“Those little lasses?”

“And they work themselves up to such an extent that there have been mass swoonings.”

“What are they swooning over?”

“You! And now the lasses have heard what the Oddlings believe and there have been clashes between them both and many outbreaks of weeping jags amongst the lasses.”

“I’m...er...sorry to hear this. But what can I do about all this?”

“You are going to have to watch your Ps and Qs Mr. Baggins.” Poppy said and kissed him soundly.

“Was that a P or a Q.” he asked her awhile afterwards.

“It was a K. But you will have to watch what you say and do in front of various parties till all this frenzy settles down. “

“The various parties we have just discussed?”

“Well, in front of everyone for now. The gossip has spread all over Hobbiton and factions are developing taking sides over whomever they think is telling the truth.”

“But I still don’t really see what I can do.”

At that the door opened again and Sam came in.

“Hello! Not interrupting anything am I, Mr. Frodo? Miss Poppy?”

“No, Sam. But we do have a few things to tell you.” Frodo said and pouring Sam some tea directed Sam to sit and listen.

Some time later after Sam had blushed to the tips of his ears and nearly burst into tears, then into peals of laughter..... when it had all sunk into his head Sam declared...

“Somethin’ ought to be done.”

Frodo winked at him.

“Yes, something should be done.”

Poppy then realized the folly of telling male hobbits anything of this sort. Didn’t they realize the chaos they were capable of causing amongst the females of the Shire?

Frodo and Sam shook hands and nodded at each other.

“Poppy, my love. I’m off to see my cousins. I’ll be back tomorrow or the next day.”

“Oh Frodo, what are you up to?”

Frodo was normally very reserved and not prone to pranks unless something really roused his sense of the ridiculous. He winked at Poppy, kissed her again and left with Sam.

Poppy shook her head then covered her face with her palms. This was not going to be pretty.

The next week while Frodo’s cousins were visiting the four former traveling hobbits put on quite a show of hugging each other in the market and at the Green Dragon but they also pinched many a comely lass and planted kisses on all available cheeks including Miss Oregano’s, Bootsy’s, all the Oddling’s, Ted Sandyman’s, and Fredegar Bolger’s (he hadn’t been let in on the joke and was most puzzled by this behavior.) Ted took a swing at them, missed and fell in The Water in front of half the town’s-people. Pip and Merry danced together as often a possible and Frodo and Sam cuddled frequently.

This of course only caused an escalation of rumors flying from the Oddlings, boot throwing from Bootsy and mass swoonings amongst the lasses and one or two lads.

And Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin just sat back with wicked grins and watched the show. Whilst Poppy just threw her hands in the air and lamented the hopelessness of ever expecting males to behave themselves.

“I didn’t mean to set your kitchen on fire!” Poppy sobbed into Frodo’s chest.

He’d found her sitting on the steps outside Bag End looking very disheveled and soot-covered. And there were angry tear-streaks through the smoke-smudges on her normally very-clean face.

“There, there.... It doesn’t look so bad from out here.” Frodo tried to soothe her. But he eyed the wisps of smoke that still wafted out the open front door with trepidation.

Poppy moved away from him and kicked at a rock that edged the garden path. She was so frustrated and fed up with herself . All she had wanted to do was bake Frodo’s favorite strawberry tarts for a special dessert. Rosie had left her alone in the kitchen to do so after Poppy had assured her she knew what she was doing. And now look what had happened!

“I don’t know how to cook anything! You don’t want to marry me!” She was no longer crying but just very, very furious at her failures in the culinary skills.

“Yes I do! I’m not marrying you for your cooking. As you know very well.” He tried to hug her again but she was too mad. She kicked the rock loose and it rolled down the steps and smacked into the gate.

Sam wasn’t going to appreciate his well-placed garden stones being smacked about like that.

Just as Frodo thought that Sam appeared in the doorway also looking smoke-smudged.

“Now, Mr. Frodo.. it’s really not as bad as it looks.”

“I thought it didn’t look so bad anyway.”

“Well it was more smoke than fire. Just a good bit of smoke is all. It was the sugar spilling out of the tarts that did it. Smoked up the oven something awful. But we’ve got it almost all cleaned up now.”

“I put in too much sugar.” Poppy grumped, kicking another stone loose.

Sam retrieved the one that had rolled into the gate and gently put it back in place and waited for the next one to be dislodged with a sad frown.

Frodo watched the drama unfolding before him and began to chuckle and the chuckle soon became full-blown laughter.

“Look at you two.” He gasped between giggles.

“You won’t be laughing when you see inside.” Poppy sulked.

She was normally so unflappable and even-tempered that this miserably frustrated and angry Poppy was a novelty that tickled Frodo immensely. It was probably mean to laugh at her but she really looked adorable all filthy with her hair falling out of it’s normally tidy bun, the ribbons straggling anyhow. And her face was all puckered up with self-disgust. She was unbearably cute at the moment but he supposed she wouldn’t like him to say so.

“Poppy. Oh, Poppy. It’s all right!” he said and cuddled her up in his arms though she pretended not to want him to.

“I just wanted to make you some tarts!”

“I know, I know. Don’t worry.”

“I can’t cook!”

“I know, dearest. I’ve always known that.”

“But I should learn to cook. I should. It’s only right.”

“I don’t mind if you can’t.”

“I mind!”

“Oh, Poppy!” Frodo nuzzled her burnt strawberry-scented hair.

“Mr. Frodo. Let Rosie and I teach her. It’s an easy enough art to learn with a willing pupil. It’ll be all right, Miss Poppy.”

“I just feel so...so...ashamed! Every Hobbit can cook. What’s wrong with me?” Poppy sniffled.

“There’s nothing at all wrong with you.” Frodo assured her.

“No indeed!” Sam added. “Mr. Frodo can’t cook much, either.”

“Sam!” Frodo was displeased to hear his best friend impugn his cooking skills. He though Sam, of all people, knew he could at least boil water.

“Sorry, Mr. Frodo. You know it’s true. Remember that bread you tried to make when I was away to the Southfarthing? That was a bit singed like Miss Poppy’s tarts More than a bit, actually.”

“I simply forgot it was in the oven.”

“For five hours... it was. Charred black as coal. And just as hard. Not that anyone would want to try and bite into it.”

“Sam!” This betrayal was too humiliating. “I cooked soup for Pippin that time he was sick. Mushroom soup! He liked it.”

“But it’s the only thing you can cook, Mr. Frodo and only because it’s mushrooms. All Hobbits are born knowing how to cook mushrooms.”

“Even me.” Poppy said, because it was true.

“Sam....”Frodo was getting really annoyed.

“Look here, you two. We’ll teach the pair of you. If you’re to survive when me and Rosie aren’t about I suppose it’s necessary.”

Frodo and Poppy looked at each other. Sam was right, as usual.

TBC.

Good old Bootsy Woodbine had taken it upon herself to make the gigantic wedding cake and Frodo had readily agreed. Bootsy was the best baker of cakes and sweets in all the Shire. She had enquired if her old flame, Bilbo, would be attending and Frodo had to tell her that, no, dear Bilbo could not travel any longer. She was disappointed but continued to transfer her fondness for Bagginses into delicious treats delivered daily to the Bag End kitchen.

Bilbo had been notified of the great event and of course invited. He had replied that as much as he wished to be there he could only make one more journey. Frodo understood this sadly but accepted that this was how it must be. Still every day a new gift arrived via various strange messengers from Rivendell. Jewels and elvish artifacts of dazzling beauty to mundane practicalities like umbrellas and silver spoons, in fact an entire Mithral silver service!) engraved by elvish smiths with F&PB and a note from Bilbo to keep the spoons away from the SB’s. These especially brought a smile and many wistful thoughts to Frodo.

Guests, too, were filling every available extra room in every smial.

Sam though, had insisted that Bag End not be overwhelmed with excessive unwanted relatives or acquaintances.
“It’s not fitting, Mr. Frodo.” Sam had said. “You and Miss Poppy will be needin’ your privacy. I’m a married hobbit myself and I know about these sorta things.”

“Well Merry and Pippin are staying here, of course.”

“Aye.. as I feared. No one’s more likely to pull an unseemly prank on you than your cousins.”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

Sam just shook his head.

“They would, sir.”

“Nevertheless they are coming.”

“Like a horde of orcs... “

“Sam.......” Frodo really didn’t like his cousins to be referred to in that manner, even by Sam. But he let the disagreement go. Those two probably WOULD get up to some sort of mischief.”

Right on schedule early on the fifth the two heroic hobbits arrived at Bag End looking resplendent and magnificent. They had certainly taken a liking to wearing their Gondorian finery. Frodo would be wearing his for the wedding but he just wore his usual gentle-hobbit garments most of the time.

“Hello Frodo!“ Pippin exclaimed as he burst unceremoniously through the round green door with Merry right behind him. “We’ve brought a few presents for you and Poppy.” he added nodding brightly over his shoulder at the heavily laden wagon that stood at the gate.

“Pippin, Merry..” Frodo said hugging them both in welcome. “Thank you. But whatever will I do with more gifts?”

Indeed Bag End seemed to be overflowing with ornately wrapped boxes of all shapes and sizes.

“Well you’ll use ours, Frodo.” Merry asserted. “We’ve been practical in what we’ve brought for you. You can throw a lot of this other rubbish away or build another room for it all.”

“I think I shall have to build several more rooms.”

“The rooms might be coming in handy in a year or two or three.” Pippin said with a wink.

“Pip, could you let Poppy and I marry first before you’ve got us filling all our rooms with offspring.”

“Well, you know how it is with hobbits. We tend to be prolific.”

Frodo just gave Pippin a condescending look. Silly young Took!

“Well now, Frodo, what can we do to help?” Merry asked as he wandered into the kitchen and picked up a honey cake and bit into it complacently.

“Not eat all the food before the ceremony.”

Merry just smiled and tossed himself into a chair in the parlor.

“We are at your command.” Merry said, not looking in the least likely to do anything at that moment.

Pippin began munching on an apple dumpling as he smiled at Frodo.

“So... tomorrow is the big day, then?”

A few hours later Poppy stopped in to help open more presents. She and Frodo were buried beneath heaps of wrapping paper and ribbons and endless and sundry items and many mathoms when there came a knock at the door.

“Please, let it NOT be more presents.” Frodo said. “ I do hope it’s Gandalf, though. Leave it to him to be late again.”

Pippin meandered to the door and opened it.

“It’s neither presents nor Gandalf. There’s a dwarf and an elf here you may remember.” Then Pippin burst into joyful laughter as he threw his arms around Gimli and an always restrained and mildly embarrassed Legolas.

“Oh! They came!” Frodo exclaimed gladly, trying to extricate himself from the piles of wrappings. Poppy assisted him by unwinding the strands of ribbon that were tangled all about him and then they both struggled to their feet to greet their new visitors.

Gimli sauntered into Bag End easily but Legolas had to manage gracefully to avoid knocking his head on the hanging lamp that Gandalf always managed to walk into. Elves never knock their heads on anything.

“It’s so good to see you both!” Frodo exclaimed hugging Gimli and since he was so tall shaking both Legolas’ hands vigorously. “Watch your head, Legolas. I imagine you are not used to the low ceilings of hobbit dwellings.”

“I shall manage quite well.” Legolas said stooping beneath the curve of the roof. “You look .... wonderful, Frodo.“ He added when he was nearly face to face with the hobbit he hadn’t seen for nearly two years.

“Why does everyone sound so surprised when they say that?” Frodo asked.

“You did not look as well when last we saw you. He was rather pale and worn-looking. Was he not, Gimli?” Legolas explained with a faint frown of puzzlement upon his noble brow.

“Aye, laddie!” Gimli said, clapping Frodo soundly on the back. “You were not at your best then. But you are fairly blooming now!” Gimli gave Frodo another resounding thwack of fond affection.

Frodo coughed and spluttered. Gimli laughed heartily and Legolas looked concerned.

“Gimli, be careful.” Legolas warned.

“Argh! The wee laddie can take it! He was skewered by that cave troll’s spear and survived.”

“I...was ..wearing the mithril mail at the time.” Frodo said, recovering his breath. “But I AM fine and I do wish everyone would stop expecting me to be at death’s door.”

“I am sorry, Frodo.” Legolas said, “You were through quite an ordeal and that you are looking so well is very... extra-ordinary.. and a pleasant surprise.”

“Thank you..... I think.” Frodo said laughing. “Now do come in and take a seat and have some refreshments, both of you. We are drowning in food and ale and wine and presents, but if you can find seats please make yourselves at home.”

Gimli immediately accepted Frodo’s invitation by zeroing in on a large barrel of home brew, filling a mug-full and downing it in one gulp.

“Excellent ale!”

‘Aye, isn’t it!” Pippin agreed, refilling his pint.

“Have some more.” Frodo said.

Gimli did not have to be asked again.

Legolas gracefully declined.

“We will not be staying here with you, Frodo” he said. “We have a camp with all our own provisions not far away.”

This was fortunate because Frodo had nowhere to put them. Gandalf, if and when he arrived, was accustomed to have his own special guest room and he didn't think the wizard would wish to share it even with old friends though in a pinch he would just have to put up with them.

“Now is this the lovely lass you’ve chosen, Frodo?” Gimli said, noticing Poppy, who had been standing quietly amid the wrapping paper as the old friends had greeted one another.

“ Oh my! Yes. This is Poppy Whitfoot, soon to be Baggins. And shall I say I am grateful she chose me.” Frodo said, proudly presenting his bride-to-be.

“She is a bonny, bonny lass, Frodo!” Gimli said kissing Poppy’s hand enthusiastically.

Poppy smiled and blushed.

‘Poppy, my dear, this is, of course, Gimli, son of Gloin.” Frodo introduced formally, “And this tall fellow is the Elven Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas son of Thranduil.”

Legolas bowed elegantly to Poppy and smiled.

“That’s a mouthful to say!” Gimli guffawed as he chided his elf-friend.

“It’s wonderful to meet you.” Poppy said. “I have heard so much about you both.”

“Oh, I hope you didn’t believe everything you heard.” Gimli joked. “Hobbits may be short in stature but they tell tall tales.”

“I’m sure every word was true as told to me by Frodo. As for what these other two cousins of his have said...that is another matter.” Poppy. replied dryly.

Her wit was met with approval by everyone but Merry and Pippin.

“You have chosen a worthy bride, “ Legolas told Frodo, with a small sly smile. “She is most perceptive and wise.”

“I say, Legolas! That’s not fair. We do not fabricate false stories!” Pippin objected.

“Indeed!” Merry asserted.

Everyone else chuckled knowingly while Frodo’s cousins stared at them indignantly.

TBC.