I have no idea how many of these that there will be but, like my Merry and Pippin stories, each chapter will be a stand-alone story.  You can read one of these or all of them and there is no order in which they need to be read.  It's total randomness!  So, read them any way you like.

They are not my hobbits.  They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.  I do like them very much and borrow them from time to time, but none of these characters are mine.

G.W.     9/26/04

                                                    "Rumors"

"I don’t reckon that nobody here knows what the old feller’s up to," an older hobbit’s voice said, softly. "No, folks 'round here never know what to make of him or his doin’s."

Frodo listened intently as another hobbit answered the first one. "Well, takin’ in that young Bucklander is the sort of thing that you might expect old Mad Baggins to do. Old Bilbo’d be more than at home among that lot. You know those Bucklanders spend lots of time on the river."

"That’s the sort of craziness that goes on in Buckland or so I’ve heard," the first voice agreed. "Don’t know myself as I never been there. Don’t plan to go neither."

Frodo frowned as both of the old hobbits laughed at this. He had never been the sort to listen to private conversations but he hadn’t been able to help over-hearing the first part of this one. Now, he found himself standing here, hidden behind a large stack grain sacks in the dry goods shop and eavesdropping like a nosey old gammer.

"I hear that old Mad Baggins is taking in that young Bucklander to do all of his chores," a third voice called from a short distance behind Frodo. Frodo turned around, guiltily and found himself looking straight at his cousin, Bilbo. Frodo’s eyes widened in disbelief as Bilbo, who was disguising his voice quite well, continued to call out. "That poor lad don’t know what’s comin’ and that’s for sure."

One of the other hobbits from across the grain sacks answered. "Well, that explains it then! But I had thought that old Gaffer Gamgee and his lot did all o’ Mad Baggin’s work."

"Aye, they do. Indeed they do," Bilbo said, winking at Frodo. "I hear though, that Baggins has a particular job in mind for that Buckland lad. Course, that’d be just a rumor."

Frodo listened as the hobbits on the other side of the grain sacks murmured among themselves for a few minutes. Bilbo was standing there grinning like he’d just won first prize at the fair for the best calf brought to market while the murmuring continued.

"Well?" one of the voices finally called out. "What is this rumor, then?"

Frodo watched as Bilbo mouthed ‘now we’ve got them.’ and then called out to the others. "I hear tell he plans to have that lad dig up some of his treasure. I hear that he’s runnin’ a might low on coin these days."

Frodo covered his mouth with both hands to keep from laughing out loud as one of the speakers across the way answered Bilbo. "Well, don’t that beat all? I always knowed that old coot had buried treasure in that hill of his! Didn’t I always say so, Albee?"

"I 'spect you and half of Hobbiton said so," Albee grunted and chuckled.

"Well, I did say so, right enough," the other voice answered. "I said so a’fore most o’ that other lot did."

Bilbo smiled and called out, "Don’t fret none. I heard that you were on to the old nutter long a’fore most folks around here were."

Frodo shook his head and smirked.

"See, Albee! You’re always figurin’ I don’t know half o’ what I’m talkin’ about, but other folks know the truth of it," the vindicated hobbit crowed.

"Oh, hush up, Judd and don’t take on so," Albee said. "I meant you no harm."

"Sometimes is them that means you no harm that’ll do the most damage," Bilbo said, knowingly with a wink at Frodo.

"That’s for sure, Mister," Judd answered loudly. "I don’t know why I even put up with you, Albee. You don’t have no respect for me or my opinions."

"Now, you wait just a darn minute there, Judd!" Albee said, angrily. "I ain’t done nary a thing to you but listen to you spout off all day long. I’m gettin a might tired o’ your company."

"Well, I’m more than a might tired o’ yours, Albee Banks!" Judd said, and from across the way there came the sound of a chair being scooted across the floor and someone stomping off. A door slammed.

"I say good riddance to him," Judd yelled for all of those present in the shop to hear. "The old fool don’t know his hat from a hay wagon and he never has!"

Bilbo and Frodo were leaning against one another trying hard to stifle their laughter. Finally, Bilbo spoke again in his disguised voice, "Well, I hear tell that old looney Albee there, keeps home-made apple brandy in his root cellar and that most o’ the time the poor fool is half in the cups. That’s what’s wrong with him."

"You mean to say that old Albee is a drunkard?" Judd said, wonderingly.

"I heard as much in market the other day, but don’t know if it’s true," Bilbo said as Frodo groaned, softly.

"Well, don’t that beat all," Judd said, and then there was the sound of him getting out of his chair to go.

Bilbo took Frodo’s arm and led him around the stacks of grain and to the door of the shop. He reached behind himself, pulled the door open a bit, and then shut it, making it sound as if he and Frodo had just entered the shop. Frodo followed him as they walked over toward Judd Bracegirdle who was getting ready to leave.

"Well, afternoon, Judd," Bilbo said, in his own voice, smiling at the other hobbit.

"What? Oh, afternoon Bilbo," Judd said, politely, returning Bilbo’s smile. "Who’s your young friend there?"

"Oh, why this is my young cousin, Frodo Baggins," Bilbo said, patting Frodo on the shoulder. "Frodo and I are just in to get a few things."

"Hullo," Frodo managed.

"Well, you must be Drogo’s son," Judd said. "I hear tell your to be moving in with our Bilbo here."

"Yes, sir," Frodo said, wondering, and not for the first time today, how anyone could be so two-faced as this old hobbit before him.  Our Bilbo indeed!  A minute ago this old hobbit was talking about Bilbo as if he were a complete idiot and now he was 'our Bilbo'?

"Yes, he’s agreed to come live with me," Bilbo said, smiling broadly. "He and I are just here to get several things before I take him to Bag End and get him settled. I finally have managed to get the lad away from his Brandybuck cousins and here to Hobbiton. Better influences here for a lad, don’t you know." Bilbo said this last in a low tone, as if he and Judd were conspiring. While Judd nodded, he looked over at Frodo and spoke a bit too loudly. "Come on then, Frodo my lad. You will have to excuse us, Judd, but Frodo and I need to purchase some shovels and maybe a pick axe."

As Judd stood there with his mouth hanging open, Bilbo led Frodo toward the front of the store. As they got some distance away, Frodo heard the sound of running feet and then the slam of the door and Bilbo laughed. "That ought to give the old Gaffers something to talk about for weeks on end down at The Ivy Bush!"

"Doesn’t it bother you at all, Uncle?" Frodo asked, concerned.

"No, Frodo lad," Bilbo chuckled. "I rather enjoy seeing what all I can get them to repeat. It’s more fun than sitting about playing Draughts. There’s more sport to it."

Frodo grinned and shook his head in amusement. "If you say so, Uncle."

Living with Bilbo Baggins was going to be an adventure and Frodo was looking forward to every minute of it!

The End

By His Side: Gandalf's Thoughts at the Council of Elrond

The portions in bold, are direct quotes from "Fellowship of the Ring".

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It breaks my heart, though I know that it must be. I stand here and watch while the young hobbit steps forward and makes his offer, little realizing the danger into which he places himself. His voice is strong, but his eyes betray his confidence. Those eyes! So much is told from within their depths.

"I will take the Ring," he says, "though I do not know the way."

Nor does he know the danger that he will face and yet, he bravely offers to do this thing which others will not even attempt. He places himself at risk willingly. I have never doubted the spirit of this one and though hobbits continue to amaze me, I am not surprised that it is Frodo Baggins who will undertake this quest. If the fate of Middle Earth must rest within the small hands of so innocent a creature as a hobbit, then we are most fortunate indeed that it is this one.

In all of my long years among hobbits, I have never known a truer heart than this. I am very fond of all of these foolish hobbits and of their peaceful Shire, but this one has always been remarkable. In him, I see an inner strength and determination that most hobbits do not possess. I see the curiousity of the Tooks, the cleverness of the Brandybucks, and the stubbornness of the Bagginses when I gaze upon this lad who now stands before this powerful Council offering up his very life.

Here is the best that the Shire has to offer and perhaps the best that Middle Earth can boast. He stands before them all and myself and waits. He holds his head high for all to see. His resolve in this matter is unshakable. I know that I cannot spare him this burden nor save him from what is to come. I try to smile at him because I am proud of him, but I fear that my countenance reveals more than I would like. He is a very bright lad. He knows how troubling I find all of this.

Now, I watch as Lord Elrond looks over at Frodo and speaks, "If I understand aright all that I have heard, I think that this task is appointed for you, Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no one will. This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and counsels of the Great. Who of all the Wise could have foreseen it? Or, if they are wise why should they expect to know it, until the hour has struck?"

I cannot argue against this decision for I know that Lord Elrond speaks the truth in all of this. I can only try to keep him safe as he continues his journey for as long as I may. May the Valar protect him and give me the strength to do the same. The very fate of this Middle Earth has been laid at the doorstep of this one, small hobbit and he has come forward to meet his destiny. Only I am not surprised by his courage. After all, he is a Baggins and Bilbo’s heir. He comes of good stock and I have always seen something that sets him apart. Now, others will see what I have known all along.

I see a look of pride on the face of my dear friend, Bilbo for here stands the one that he has loved best among all others. His eyes match mine in their worry, but his fierce pride for his lad shows above all else. He and I exchange glances, sharing our thoughts the way only those with deep ties and years of shared memories can. His look speaks volumes to me and I hasten to reassure him that all is not without hope by my actions.

I manage a much better smile and take my place at Frodo’s side. This young hobbit is not going into the darkness without Gandalf! No, indeed.

The End

                                                An Evening With Bilbo

This one is told from the POV of a ten-year-old Pippin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I can be very quiet when I want to be. Others might not think this is so, but I can. Tonight, I am being quiet. They have left me again and so I must find my own amusement. I am tired of sulking. Sulking and pouting are only useful if there is someone about to watch and take pity on you. Tonight, no one is watching. Tonight I am on my own.

Well, not entirely. If I were completely alone then I might go in search of fun, but if I leave, I will be caught for sure. One of them will find me out and then I will be confined to my room or on my way home. I have been left in Bilbo’s care for the evening and so I must stay here at Bag End while my cousins are out having a few pints at The Green Dragon.  Being left here with Bilbo isn't like bieng left with other adults.  Bilbo has no idea how real adults behave when they are taking care of lads.  Someone proper should be minding me, but then, I don't really need minding as far as I can see.  I can take care of myself.  It's a good thing too, because cousin Bilbo isn't up to the job. 

One of these days, when I am old enough, then I am going to go to The Green Dragon, order a pint, and sing and drink all night long. I am probably old enough now, but no one allows me to do anything! They treat me like a child even though I am nearly eleven. Frodo pats me on the head and smiles whenever I try to tell him that I’m old enough to come along. He gives me that look. It’s the look that says, "poor, misguided, child. You don’t know what you’re talking about." I hate that look!

I was given that look more than once tonight while I was trying to talk them into taking me along. I tried to explain that I wouldn’t be any trouble and that I wouldn’t even drink anything if they’d just let me come with them. I would just sit with them and maybe sing a bit with the music. I hear that they have music in The Dragon every night. I am a fair enough singer and so I don’t suspect that anyone would mind if I sang. Frodo just kept giving me that look and shaking his head. "I’m afraid not, Pippin-lad. You are too young to be in a pub. I promise that we’ll all do something fun tomorrow, but tonight is for the older lads."

The older lads indeed! Merry isn’t all that old and he was allowed to go. Merry is only nineteen and just barely nineteen at that! All of this lad business is mostly for my benefit anyway. Frodo always calls me Pippin-lad when he is treating me like a child. I was Pippin-lad with him all throughout that conversation. I never had a chance with any of them.

Merry joined their side of things at once. The minute Frodo called Merry one of the older lads then I knew my chance of winning him over was gone. Merry likes it when Frodo treats him like he’s all grown up and so naturally, Merry couldn’t side with me on this. He had to show Frodo and the others that he was all grown up. That was when he started calling me Pip Squeak and talking to me like I were a wee tot again. I hate when he calls me Pip Squeak!

I know I’m a bit small for my age, but I don’t need to be reminded of it by Merry. Besides, size has nothing to do with this and I am old enough no matter what they think. Of course, then, there was Bilbo to contend with. Bilbo is supposed to be in charge of things around here even though sometimes it seems that he isn’t paying any attention at all. Sometimes, like now, in fact.

I have managed to sneak into his study and hide behind a chair and he has never looked up from his writing once. I can be quiet if I need to be. Bilbo doesn’t hear me now just like he refused to listen to me earlier. I tried to win him over. It seemed the proper thing to do because he is supposed to be in charge after all. I thought that if Bilbo agreed with me then they’d have to take me with them. The trouble was, Bilbo Baggins is a complete coward.

I know all about his adventures and all about the dragons and everything, but I also know that Bilbo Baggins is afraid of my mum. "Now, Pippin, I’m afraid your mum wouldn’t be very pleased if she found out that I’d allowed you to go off drinking at your age. I don’t even like to imagine what your father might say on the matter. Let the older lads go and you and I will have a nice evening here together. I’ll tell you some stories and we’ll have a game of chess. How would that be?"

How would that be? I’ll tell you how that would be. It would be embarrassing. Frodo and Merry smiled at Bilbo and then Frodo gave me the look again. This time that look said something like, ‘Be a good little child, Pippin and Uncle Bilbo will tell you a story!’ I hate that look! I am not a child! I don’t want a story. I want to go with them.

I hate being left here with a pat on the head and a few of those smiles like my old aunts always give me. Those, ‘isn’t he a sweet little child?’ looks. I hate getting those looks from Merry most of all because he knows better. He knows I’m not a child. Most of the time he treats me just like one of his older friends. He knows I don’t need a minder and he and Frodo both should know that Bilbo isn’t much of a child-minder. If you’re watching someone, aren’t you supposed to know where they are? Bilbo is in the same room with me and he thinks I’m in bed.

He was going to tell me about one of his adventures and we were going to have a snack together, but frankly, I was not in the mood for any of it. I was missing out on an evening at The Green Dragon and story-time seemed like a very poor substitute indeed. So, I decide to pout a bit and announce that I was going on to bed. Instead of trying to talk me out of it, or relenting and allowing me to go to The Dragon, Bilbo put me to bed!

I don’t think he knows anything at all about children. If he did, then he’d know that I didn’t want to go to bed at all. I only said that to try and get him to feel sorry for me. I have no idea how Frodo manages him. I can’t seem to figure him out at all. He doesn’t seem to behave the way other adults do. Merry’s mum would have known that I didn’t really want to go to bed. She might not have let me go to The Green Dragon, but she would have felt sorry for me and tried to make it up to me. I wasted a perfectly good job of pouting on that old hobbit!

Now, I’m stuck hiding behind the chair and eaves dropping which isn’t any fun at all because Bilbo is alone and while he does talk to himself sometimes, he isn’t doing it now. It’s no good eaves dropping when no one is saying anything. Bilbo thinks I’m in bed where he put me. I can’t say different. That would be admitting that I might have been pouting before. That might make me look a bit like a child and I can’t let that happen.

They are already certain that I’m not much more than a baby as it is. I can’t prove them wrong if I can’t stick to what I told them. I said, "Fine, go on and leave me here. I don’t want to go with you anyway. I don’t need any of you and I don’t want any old story! I’m going to bed!" That’s what I told them, thinking that at least Bilbo would feel a bit sad for me. I knew that Merry and Frodo would go to The Green Dragon anyhow, but I did think that Bilbo would behave properly for once. He didn’t. He tucked me in and then put out the lantern and left me alone in the dark. Not that I’m afraid of the dark really, but I do usually sleep with Merry or Frodo when I’m here and I usually get to leave the lantern lit if I’m on my own. I hate being the youngest.

Look at him over there at that desk, writing away in that old book. Doesn’t he know I’m sitting here on this cold floor in my night shirt, bored to death? My papa would have found me by now and made me go back to bed. A lad could get completely forgotten around here with him in charge. Frodo and Merry shouldn’t have gone off and left me with Bilbo. He isn’t watching me at all. I can’t sit still here much longer I think my legs are going numb.

"Peregrin, why don’t you come over here and I’ll show you a drawing of Smaug that I’ve done? Unless you are enjoying sitting there behind my chair. I suppose you could be enjoying yourself. I really don’t know much about what lads your age enjoy doing."

I can’t believe it! He knew all this time! How did he hear me? I was ever so quiet.

"Well, I guess you don’t want to look at drawings of Dragons then. I’ll just finish this and then I think I’ll get a bite to eat. Go on with what you’re doing and don’t mind me."

I wanted to go to The Green Dragon, not look at drawings of dragons! Go on with what I’m doing? I would like to see the picture and I am a wee bit hungry and it is cold and uncomfortable here on the floor. I stand up and look over the top of the chair at him but he is ignoring me. I am going to have to say something and so I will, "I might like to see the drawing of Smaug, I suppose if you really want me to see it." That sounds like I’m helping him out I think, doesn’t it?

"Oh, well , if you’d like to see it, then come on over and have a look."

I am over by the desk now and it is a very good drawing of a dragon. Bilbo has his arm around me and he’s showing me all about Smaug. He must have been a very fierce dragon indeed and I suppose that Bilbo isn’t really a coward. It’s warmer over here and Bilbo is letting me sit in his lap while we look at the drawing. Maybe I will have a bit to eat with Bilbo and then try pouting on Frodo and Merry tomorrow. Poor old Bilbo just doesn’t understand how these things work, but Frodo and Merry will know what to do. Tonight I will spend some time with Bilbo because he needs me to look out for him. He knows a great deal about Dragons, but he doesn’t know anything at all about lads my age!

The End

This one was written for the Hobbit-Ficathon challenge to write a story about hobbits going to an Inn or a Pub.

Frodo is 26 and the Gaffer and Bilbo are old enough to know better.

"A Toast!"

"No, not at all, Gaffer," Bilbo was saying as Frodo neared their corner table. "I’ve had way more than this in my time. You should try drinking with dwarves. They can really do justice to a keg of ale." Bilbo was leaning over his half empty mug of ale and smiling crookedly at Hamfast Gamgee whom most simply referred to as the Gaffer.

"I don’t know as I’d want to drink with ‘em," the Gaffer replied, speech slightly slurred. "If they drink as much as you say, there’d be not left for me." He and Bilbo burst into laughter at this and then both took a drink.

Frodo shook his head and frowned. This did not look good at all. He would have his hands full trying to get Bilbo back to Bag End. He also wondered if he should try to get the Gaffer home. The two were great friends in spite of the fact that Hamfast Gamgee worked for Bilbo as his gardener. It didn’t happen often, but when the two of them got together for a pint, they sometimes over-indulged.

"That’s the double with twarves," Bilbo admitted, grinning.

The Gaffer leaned an ear toward Bilbo and frowned. "That’s the what with who?"

"The dribble with twarfs," Bilbo said, louder. "They can be stingy too."

"Who can?" the Gaffer asked, still trying to sort things out.

"Dwarves, Gaffer," Bilbo said.

"Where?" Hamfast asked, standing and looking about the Green Dragon with interest.

Bilbo took hold of the Gaffer’s sleeve and pulled him back into his seat. ‘Not so loud," Bilbo suggested, loudly.

Frodo sighed and decided to make his presence known. He walked over and sat down next to Bilbo and smiled. ‘Hullo, Bilbo. Hullo, Gaffer," Frodo said. "Are you two enjoying your evening?"

"Frodo," Bilbo grinned. He then stood and waved at a serving lass. "Bring another round to my table. My nephew is here and he looks like he could use a pint!"

Frodo frowned and pulled Bilbo back into his seat. "I’m not very thirsty, Bilbo. I’ve just come to see when you are planning on coming home," Frodo said.

"Oh, well, I don’t know, my lad," Bilbo said and then looked at the Gaffer. "When are we going home?"

"Are you coming to my smial?" the Gaffer frowned confused.

"No," Bilbo said. Behind him the serving lass approached with three full mugs. She leaned over in front of Bilbo to sit down the drinks and he promptly began to look down the front of her dress and smile stupidly. "My, aren’t you a healthy lass! Frodo, you might consider asking this young lass over to Bag End sometime she has really got quite a -"

"Your drink is here, uncle," Frodo interrupted, quickly with a nervous glance at the serving lass who was now smirking at him.

"Why Mister Baggins, you are the charmer tonight, aren’t you?" she said, with a wink at Frodo who was blushing brightly.

Bilbo stood and then smiled at her. "I am always charming, my dear." He then lifted his new mug of ale and drank deeply, falling back into his seat with a thump.

The lass laughed as she left them and the Gaffer pushed Frodo’s mug over in front of him. "Drink up, lad. We’re way a head a ya!"

"Oh, I'm not thirsty, but I do thank you," Frodo said, pushing the mug back in the Gaffer’s direction.

"Now, Frodo, it isn’t polite to refuse a drink," Bilbo said, in a loud whisper. "You don’t wanna offend the Gaffer do you?"

"Do you?" the Gaffer asked and both Bilbo and the Gaffer leaned forward to look intently at Frodo.

"Well, no of course not," Frodo said, quickly and took the mug back. When they continued to watch him, he took a drink and then smiled. "Thank you."

Bilbo smiled at the Gaffer and said, loudly, "He’s a fine lad! I am very lucky to have him as my hair."

Frodo frowned. "I think you mean heir, uncle."

"I do and I said it!" Bilbo said, slapping his hand on the table top and looking over at the serving lass again. "Another lot of pints, if you please!"

"Don’t go correctin’ your elders, lad," the Gaffer put in. "It’s not proper!" He was also shouting and Frodo could see that others in the Dragon were starting to stare.

"Yes, sir,’ Frodo replied weakly and took another sip of his ale to steady his nerves.

"Did I order more pints?" Bilbo asked as the lass returned with another round of drinks.

"That you did," she said, again leaning in front of him as she sat down the drinks.

"I’ve seen those before," Bilbo said, looking down her bodice again happily. "But it is good to see them again."

Frodo turned up his mug and emptied it to avoid looking at the lass who was laughing a bit wickedly.

"You’ve seen what a’for?" the Gaffer asked.

"This lass has been kind enough to show me her-"

"Uncle, why don’t your drink you ale?" Frodo broke in. "It isn’t polite not to drink your ale."

"The lad’s right," the Gaffer said, pounding a fist on the table and glaring at Bilbo.

"No, no, it isn’t," Bilbo said. "I know better than that." He then drained his mug and smiled.

Frodo rolled his eyes. This was getting out of hand but he had no idea how to stop it. He also had the feeling that the serving lass was not the one to ask for help. She seemed to be encouraging this. Bilbo put both of his hands on the table and pulled himself to his feet. "Another lot of this ale for my friends!" he called out and Frodo heard several folks behind him laugh.

"Bilbo, don’t you think we should be getting back to Bag End now?" Frodo asked, dreading the return of the serving lass.

"Not now, Frodo lad," Bilbo smiled and patted Frodo ‘s arm a bit too hard. "I’ve just ordered another round of pints! Would be rude to leave now."

"Who’s leavin’ now?" the Gaffer asked, looking toward the door.

"I don’t know," Bilbo admitted and leaned over to look at the door also. "I didn’t see ‘em."

"Well, then why’d you bring it up?" the Gaffer asked, a bit annoyed.

"I don’t recall," Bilbo said and they both laughed and pounded on the table.

Frodo rubbed his temples and finished his mug of ale. The serving lass was back with another round and this time Bilbo stood to greet her. "My dear, it is so good to see them again," he said and leaned forward, falling face first into her cleavage.

Frodo groaned and stood to pull Bilbo upright but the lass had already pushed his uncle to his feet again and was now smiling at him. "My, what a greeting, Mister Baggins."

"Yes," Bilbo said, giggling. "It’s a bit dark in there. I didn’t think I’d find my way out."

Frodo sank to his chair and covered his face with both hands as the Gaffer laughed. "You hardly remember how to find your way in!" he shouted and pounded Bilbo on the back nearly knocking him into the lass again.

"Enjoy your drinks, gentleman," she said, and turned to go again.

"Thank you," the Gaffer said, giggling and dropped into his seat.

Bilbo leaned over the table, picked up his mug and raised it. In a very loud voice he announced, "A toast!" He then proceeded to drain his mug while everyone in the Dragon waited for the rest of the toast.

"A toast to what?" the Gaffer asked, still holding his own mug and waiting.

Bilbo frowned and looked into his own mug and said, "I can’t make a toast, Gaffer. I don’t have any ale." His eyes brightened and he called out. "Be a good lass and bring us more ale! I want to make a toast!"

From behind him Frodo heard her reply. "I’d be more than happy to, Mister Baggins."

"She’d be more than happy to what?" the Gaffer asked.

"I don’t know, but if she’s happy, I’m happy," Bilbo said, grinning and then he elbowed Frodo and winked at him. At least he tried to wink, but instead he closed both eyes. "It’s dark in here," he complained.

"Open your eyes, " the Gaffer said, snorting.

"Bilbo, I really do think that we should be going," Frodo said.

Just then the lass returned with more pints and sat them on the table. This time the Gaffer leered at her and said, "Well, I hope your happy!"

She smiled. "I am, Gaffer."

"Good cause if your happy, your happy," he said, smiling back.

"A toast, again," Bilbo said, not bothering to stand. "Here’s to my lad, Frodo! The finest lad in all the sire!"

Frodo sank a bit lower in his chair and drained a mug of ale. "Here’s to me," he mumbled.

"To Frobo Daggins!" the Gaffer said, helpfully.

"Oh, look, my pints gone again," Bilbo complained. "Did I toast my make yet?" He giggled at his mistake and tried again. "Did I make my most yet?"

"Shall I bring more ale?" the lass asked. She had been standing there waiting and Frodo suspected that had been a very good idea. It would save her a trip.

"Good idea!" the Gaffer said, pleased with her offer.

"Yes, and bring back those lovely, large, soft-"

"Here, Bilbo," Frodo said and pushed one of his mugs in Bilbo’s direction. "Have mine while you wait."

"You are a good lad Frodo," Bilbo said, accepting it. "Bring an extra one of these for my Frodo!" he shouted and waved a hand in the direction that the lass had moved off in.

Frodo selected one of his still-full mugs and took a sip as the Gaffer said, "I think that lass is starting to warm up to you." He winked at Frodo who then drained his mug of ale.

"Oh, yes, she is quite fond of me," Bilbo said, mistaking the Gaffer’s remark. "She’s showed me her-"

"She’s showed ‘em ta everyone you old drunk," the Gaffer laughed.

"Not as many times as she’s showed hers to mine!" Bilbo shouted, still smiling.

Frodo watched as the lass sat more drinks down on the table. For some odd reason, the table seemed to be moving and this struck Frodo as funny. He giggled and said, "Look, Bilbo the table is moving."

"It does that after a time," Bilbo said and then looked up at the lass. "You’re starting to warm me up aren’t you?"

She smiled at him and said, "I have been for some time now." She then walked away, laughing.

Bilbo looked at the Gaffer and did the two-eyed wink again and then said, "See, she’s warmed over to me you old fool."

"Well, there’s a surprise," the Gaffer said. "Does she know how old you are?’

"I don’t know but I know how old I are so we don’t have to ask her," Bilbo said.

Frodo smiled at them both and watched as they began to spin in the opposite direction from the table. "Spinning and spinning," he said, as his elbows slid out from under him and his face fell to the table.

Bilbo smiled at the Gaffer and announced, "Too much Brundybunk in the lad. He can’t hold his liquor."

The Gaffer nodded. "Some folks oughtin’ ta drink!" he yelled out and pointed to Frodo who was giggling softly.

"I’ll drink his for him so he can keep up," Bilbo said, taking Frodo’s mug and raising it. "A toast!"

It was the last thing that Frodo heard for quite a while.

~~~The End~~~

A Good Use For Punch

Frodo ducked into the quiet little study just off the main parlor and quickly pushed the door closed behind him with a relieved sigh.  He allowed the tension to slip from his shoulders as he stood with his palms pressed against the door and his forehead leaning on its surface just between his hands.  He had finally escaped!  It had taken nearly two hours but he had finally escaped.

No more fawning relations.  No more questions.  No more well-wishing or back-patting or hand-shaking or kisses on the cheek.  No more plates piled high with food being shoved into his hands or mugs of ale foisted upon him.  Best of all no more stories that began with the phrase, “I remember when you were just a little lad” and ended with laughter from everyone while he stood there, red-faced and trying hard to look amused despite the embarrassment.

He had finally managed to find a safe haven amid the warren of rooms that was Brandy Hall.  He was alone for the first time all day.  He smiled and then he realized that he could smell pipe weed.  Raising his head away from the door but not daring to turn around for fear of having his elusion of solitude shattered, Frodo sniffed the air.  It was most definitely pipe weed and it was very near by.  It was most likely coming from the very room in which he now hid.

His hands slid down the door and he turned around knowing that he would come face to face with someone else.  His expression must have screamed disappointment because the other occupant of the room said, “I am sorry to spoil things.  I only meant to be in here for a short while.”

Frodo peered through the thick cloud of smoke into the eyes of his cousin, Bilbo.  The older hobbit was seated in an old armchair puffing away on his pipe with a book open on his lap.  Before Frodo could make any effort at all to assure Bilbo that he had not spoiled anything, Bilbo went on.  “I had thought to sneak off from the party for a few minutes and have a quiet smoke but I seem to have lost track of the time.  I suspect that I have been in here for a while now.”

Judging by the amount of smoke in the small, windowless room, Frodo was sure that cousin Bilbo had been in the little room for a very long time indeed.  In fact Frodo was certain that he’d not seen Bilbo at the party for several hours at least.  It was true that Frodo had been kept very busy accepting birthday greetings from his many relations and listening to those embarrassing stories about “Little Frodo” and so he might not have noticed exactly when Bilbo disappeared from the party, but he was quite sure that it had been some time ago.

“I simply couldn’t stand another toast in my honor,” Bilbo chuckled softly.  “The first thirty or so where very nice, but even an old hobbit like myself grows tired of hearing how wonderful it is that I’ve reached such an unbelievably old age without falling apart or beginning to drool all over my ascot.”  He smiled broadly and started to get up from the chair.  “But I can see that you have shouldered the burden of ‘guest of honor’ for long enough and that it is my turn again.”

Frodo laughed.  “Don’t go,” he said.  “There seems to be room enough for both of us in here and I don’t mind sharing.”  He looked behind him at the door and frowned.  “It would be nice if this locked.”

Bilbo walked across the room and proceeded to remove a key from the pocket of his vest.  He put the key into the door lock and winked at Frodo.  “It does lock,” he confided in a whisper.  “I had meant to lock it earlier, but I had become rather involved in my book.  I guess I am growing a bit long in the tooth for I completely forgot.”  He sighed, replaced the key in his pocket and made his way back over to his chair.

Frodo noticed a comfortable little footstool sitting near the chair and so he followed Bilbo over and sat down on it.  He leaned his back against the chair next to Bilbo’s legs and settled in.  “How long do you suppose it will be before anyone finds us?” Frodo asked.

“Oh, they’ve plenty of food and the Hall is completely full of Brandybucks, Tooks, Bagginses, Bolgers, and the like.  I don’t think they’ll miss either of us for quite a while,” Bilbo said pleasantly as he continued to puff on his pipe.  “I do believe that the ale and the story-telling will keep them occupied for the present and give the two of us birthday lads a chance to celebrate our escape.”

Frodo smiled.  “I hate these things.”

“Pity,” Bilbo sighed.  “At your age you have so very many of them to endure in the future where as I will not have to suffer through that many more.”

Frodo turned to look at Bilbo.  “You aren’t ill or anything are you?” he asked in a worried tone.

“What?  Oh, no lad,” Bilbo said.  “I only meant that when you are ninety-eight you can probably assume that you have more birthdays behind you than you have ahead of you.”  Bilbo patted Frodo on the head affectionately.  “At twenty, you can expect a great many more of them as the years pass.”

“I wouldn’t want to go through this alone,” Frodo said looking so serious that Bilbo nearly laughed.  “I’m used to having someone to share my birthday with and I don’t think I should like having my birthday alone.”

“Nor should I, my lad,” Bilbo smiled.  “Dear Esmeralda means well when she plans these large parties but I do wish that she would stop short of inviting the Sackville-Bagginses.”

“Oh, she didn’t invite them,” Frodo said.  “They just turned up.  She was very annoyed about it but she couldn’t think of any way to keep from allowing them to come in with the rest of the invited guests.”

“Those scoundrels,” Bilbo muttered.  “Such cheek they have!  Imagine showing up at a party uninvited.”

Frodo laughed.  “Lots of folks that have showed up here weren’t invited.  They just heard about the food and the drink and decided to drop in.”

Bilbo grinned.  “Of course, you’re right, Frodo.  How did you come to be so bright at twenty?”

“I’m a Baggins,” Frodo smiled.

“That you are, my lad,” Bilbo agreed.  “And we Bagginses are naturally clever.  You and I seem to think alike in many respects.  We both located this little room.”  Bilbo removed his pipe from his mouth and began to refill it with Old Toby as he spoke.  “Who are you hiding from?”

“Rose Brockhouse,” Frodo said blushing a bit as he said her name.

“Oh?” Bilbo asked lighting his newly filled pipe and putting it back into his mouth.

“She’s been following me about all afternoon trying to hold my hand,” Frodo said looking disgusted.  “She bats her eyes at me and smiles, but when she smiles at me she looks like that old barn cat that Saradoc has just after it’s killed a mouse.  It’s creepy.”

Bilbo laughed.  “I suspect that she’s taken with you.  We Bagginses are cursed with a sort of undeniable charm.  The lasses are drawn to us.”

Frodo wrinkled his nose slightly.  “I wish Rose Brockhouse could be drawn to someone else.”  Frodo sighed deeply.  “She giggles all the time and she twirls her hair.”

“Twirls her hair?” Bilbo asked.

“She takes a strand of it and wraps it about one finger and twists it up as if she were trying to curl it,” Frodo explained.

Bilbo made a face.  “Not a very attractive habit.”

Frodo shook his head.  “Who are you hiding from?”

“The Sackville-Bagginses, of course,” Bilbo said.  “And that pop-n-jay Tobias Tunnely.  Nice enough fellow I suppose but all he wants to do is to tell me about how talented he is.  He’s started teaching carpentry and I think he is trying to scare up some business.”

“Carpentry?” Frodo asked.

“Yes, he has offered his services should I know of anyone who might want to learn to build things,” Bilbo said.  “I think he’d do better to speak to some of the young parents who have children in need of tutoring instead of an old bachelor like myself.”

There was a sudden rattle of the door knob and both Bagginses froze.  A voice outside of the door announced, “I think it’s locked!”

“What are you looking for over there?” Frodo heard Esmeralda Brandybuck ask.

The door knob rattled again and the first voice said, “I was looking for more ale.”

“Well we don’t keep it in there,” Esmeralda sighed.  “Come with me and I’ll show you where Sara has put the barrels.”

Frodo and Bilbo listened as their almost-visitor moved away from the door.

“That was close,” Frodo said.

“Yes indeed,” Bilbo agreed.  “But he’s gone now.”

“What are you reading?” Frodo asked looking at the book that was lying on Bilbo’s lap.

“Oh, this is something I found here in the library just before the party began,” Bilbo said.  “I put it in here because I suspected that I might need something to read.”

“You planned your escape?” Frodo asked in surprise.

“Naturally,” Bilbo said.  “I didn’t want to wind up in here without anything to read or anyone to talk with and I couldn’t count on decent company dropping in so I put a book in here.”  Bilbo held the book out to Frodo.  “It’s called “Shire Poetry” by Norris Goodbody and most of it is fairly dreadful.  I didn’t have too much hope for it when I found it but you never know when you might discover something unexpected.”

Frodo opened it to a random page and read aloud,

I went walking in my garden in the rain,

I fell and gave my ankle quite a sprain.

I tripped upon a vine.

Fell on my behind.

I should have stayed indoors, that much is plain.

“That’s terrible!” Frodo groaned.  “Is the entire book that bad?”

“Some of it is much worse,” Bilbo confided.  “It does give me pause to think that someone decided to put this sort of rubbish down in a book for others to read.  I suppose that there is no accounting for taste.”

“I guess you wish that you’d selected a better book,” Frodo grinned handing the book back to Bilbo.

“Well, now that you’re here, I don’t need anything to read,” Bilbo smiled.  “It’s quite nice just to sit and talk and share our birthdays.  We’ve no need for the poetry of Norris Goodbody, poet of The Shire.”

Frodo snickered.  “I wonder who Norris Goodbody is?”

“Well, as this book proves, he isn’t a poet,” Bilbo said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sara, I don’t want to alarm the guests but I think we may have a small fire,” Esmeralda whispered as she approached her husband. 

Saradoc had just finished putting out several kegs of ale to replace the empty ones.  He looked over at his wife and frowned.  “A small fire?” he whispered.  “Where and exactly how small?”

She took his arm and led him to the far end of the parlor.  “See the smoke rolling out from underneath that door?”

He gazed as a steady cloud of smoke billowed from underneath the door.  “That looks like more than a slight bit of smoke to me,” Saradoc said.  “I think maybe we have more of a fire than you think.”

“What should we do?” she asked. 

Before Saradoc could answer there came a scream from behind them and a shrill voice yelled, “Fire!  The Hall’s on fire!  Run for your lives!”

Esmeralda turned to face Lobelia Sackville-Baggins who was still screaming and pointing to the smoke that was coming from underneath the door.  Suddenly hobbits were running for the exits in all directions.  Some with plates of food in their hands, some with full mugs of ale, some with small children under their arms, and some just running away empty-handed.  There were not too many of that last variety.  Lobelia turned to run along with the rest, knocking several folks aside as she did so and continuing to shout “Fire!”

Esmeralda looked at Saradoc in horror.  It seemed as if all of their guests were in a panic and the smoke continued to billow about from beneath the door.  “Do something!” she said.

Saradoc quickly made his way over to the food tables and lifted the punch bowl up off of the table.  Dodging fleeing guests, he made his way over to the door with the bowl.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I thought I heard someone yell something about a fire, Bilbo,” Frodo said sitting up straight on the footstool.

“A fire?” Bilbo frowned.  “Here at the Hall?”  He listened for a moment and he also heard the screams and the sound of running feet outside of the door.  “Come on, Frodo lad,” Bilbo said taking Frodo by the arm and picking up the book with his other hand.  “We had better get out of here while we can.  If there’s a fire then we certainly don’t want to lag behind.”

The two of them quickly made their way to the door and Bilbo removed his key from his pocket and quickly unlocked the door.  Before he could pull the door open someone else did that for him.  The door swung inward and Saradoc Brandybuck proceeded to hurl the contents of the large punch bowl right into Bilbo and Frodo’s surprised faces.

Dripping with punch and open-mouthed with surprise Frodo blinked at Saradoc as Bilbo asked, “Where’s the fire?”

“We thought it was in there,” Esmeralda said looking surprised to see Bilbo and Frodo.

Bilbo frowned.  “What made you think that?”

Frodo laughed and they all looked at him in confusion. 

“Your pipe, cousin Bilbo!” Frodo said.  “All of the smoke in that little room must have been coming out underneath the door.”

“Well that’s hardly any reason to suspect a fire,” Bilbo objected.  He looked down and realized that he still had the book of poetry in his hand.  “Sara, you’ve ruined this book with the punch, to say nothing of wasting perfectly good punch.”

“I thought the smial was on fire!” Saradoc explained.  “What was I supposed to do?”

“Next time,” Bilbo said.  “Knock first.”  With that, Bilbo strode off and left the three of them standing there staring after him, Frodo still dripping punch on the floor and Saradoc holding the empty punch bowl at his side.

Esmeralda stifled a giggle.

“Oh, surely you don’t think that this is funny,” Saradoc frowned at her.

“Not entirely, but it is a wonderful way to clear the Hall of guests,” Esmeralda said looking about the empty room.  “I must remember to thank Lobelia for screaming fire the next time that I am unfortunate enough to see her.”

Saradoc sputtered a bit and then looked at Frodo.  “I am sorry that this nonsense has ruined your birthday, Frodo,” he said.

“To tell you the truth, I actually enjoyed it,” Frodo smiled.  “Bilbo and I had a lovely talk and there is still plenty of food left and cake too.  Now that the guests are gone, we can get Merry from the nursery and celebrate with just the family.”

“Why don’t you go and get into some dry things, and see if Bilbo would like to help those of us that are left eat dinner?” Esmeralda suggested, smiling. "I'll go and collect Merry."

As Frodo ran off to try and catch Bilbo, Saradoc looked over at his wife.  “We should have plenty of food left my dear, but I do believe that we are out of punch.”

GW     09/22/2005

Hobbit_Ficathon challenge: Write a story that includes Bilbo!

"Hide and Seek With Otho"

There was nothing else to be done. Bilbo could certainly tell that at a glance. Climbing trees at his advanced age was probably not advisable, but there was no other means of escape. The advantage of this would be that no one would ever think to look for him in the trees. Well, no one save perhaps Gandalf, but the Wizard had not been around for a while and so Bilbo suspected that he would go unnoticed in the branches of the old beech tree. With his mind made up and time running out for a proper escape, Bilbo reached up and took hold of the lowest branch.

“I know I saw him come this way!” a voice that could have frightened a troll screeched from the ground below. Bilbo peered down through the tree’s branches and spotted Lobelia Sackville-Baggins striding into view, her face set in a sour frown and her hands clenched into fists. “That old rascal is not going to get away from me today!”

Bilbo sat very still on his high perch and allowed himself a small smile but he dared not breath hard or blink because the old bat had very sharp hearing. He watched her stop under the very tree in which he had taken refuge and place her hands on her hips. Her beady eyes darted about in search of some sign of her prey. “When I find him I plan to let him know exactly how I feel about all of this!” she shouted.

A breathless long-suffering hobbit now came into Bilbo’s field of vision to stand along side of Lobelia. He leaned his hand against Bilbo’s beech tree and looked over at Lobelia. “I think you’ve lost him,” he panted.

She glared at him. “Otho, if I want your opinion than I’ll ask for it!” she squawked. “And I don’t want it now!”

Bilbo tried not to flinch as he watched Otho cringe under Lobelia’s gaze. It was dreadfully hard to feel sorry for Otho, but at times like this, Bilbo managed a small morsel of pity for the hobbit that was ever at Lobelia’s beck and call. No one, not even his rather nasty relation Otho, deserved to be wed to an old shrew like Lobelia.

“Yes, my pet,” Otho simpered. “Naturally, you do know what is best.”

“And don’t you forget that!” she said sounding neither mollified nor forgiving. She turned her head slightly as if listening for sounds of him and Bilbo dared not even swallow. “I know you’re here somewhere Bilbo Baggins and when I find you, we will settle this entire matter straight away!” she shouted in the direction from which she had just recently come.

“Show yourself!” Otho shouted as he spun in a circle looking for any sign of Bilbo that might be visible.

Bilbo watched as Lobelia swatted Otho on the arm with a fist. “I’ll handle this! You just keep a sharp eye out for the old goat!”

“Yes, my pet,” Otho said rubbing his now aching shoulder and squinting in the direction of the trees just beyond this place. Lobelia took a couple of steps toward the opposite direction from the one that Otho was looking in and stopped to listen, tilting her head again.

“What are you doing?” a small voice asked and Bilbo looked through the leaves to see Peregrin Took standing next to Otho and looking up at the squinting hobbit.

This might prove to be disastrous. Little Pippin was not known for keeping still. If the small lad caught sight of Bilbo then he’d be very likely to call out to him. Bilbo would be discovered and he would also be trapped. Lobelia would most likely stand guard underneath the tree and rant and rave at poor Bilbo until the sunset.

“Nothing,” Otho hissed.

Lobelia ignored Pippin and began walking away from the tree and peering at the woods beyond. Pippin ignored her also and looked up at Otho again. “Are you looking for someone?” the child asked.

“No, I just like standin’ here and squintin at nothin’’,” Otho snarled.

Pippin did not seem to notice the older hobbit’s unfriendly tone and he winked at Otho and said pleasantly. “She’s looking in the wrong place.” He pointed at Lobelia and Bilbo gripped the branch tightly and gave a tiny groan. He froze as he saw Lobelia stop in her tracks and turn her head to listen again. “She’s way off,” Pippin said to Otho.

“Where’s your mum?” Otho said nastily.

Pippin looked around wide-eyed and then asked with a grin, “Is she playing too?”

“Playing what?” Otho hissed.

“Hide and seek,” Pippin said cheerily. “If she is then you’ll be able to find her pretty fast. I always find her right off. She never hides very well and she is kinda noisy.”

“Get on back to where you come from and leave me alone,” Otho hissed with a glare at Pippin.

Bilbo watched in horror as Pippin looked right up into the tree and grinned. “Don’t be upset if you can’t find Bilbo,” Pippin said. “He’s a good hider. He’s much better than my mum is. You just have to think extra careful like if you want to find him. Want me to help you?”

“No, I don’t want you to help me,” Otho said in a nasty tone. “Now, go on home where you belong and leave me be.” Otho moved a few steps from the tree.

Pippin winked up at Bilbo and then leaned against the tree trunk. “You’re getting colder,” Pippin warned Otho.

“What? I ain’t cold,” Otho said, annoyed. “It’s hot as fire out here today.”

Pippin covered his mouth with his hands and giggled. Bilbo could feel his stomach twisting into a knot. Otho was just mere inches away from the one hobbit in the Shire that might give away his position. Oh, Pippin wouldn’t mean any harm but that would hardly be a comfort to Bilbo during Lobelia’s ranting.

“No, I don’t mean that it’s cold outside,” Pippin explained. “I mean you’re getting colder. You are moving away from some awfully good hiding spots. Haven’t you ever played hide and seek before?”

“I thought I asked you to go away and leave me alone,” Otho said.

“You did,” Pippin said.

“Then why don’t you do that?” Otho asked.

“Because I want to help you win,” Pippin said. “You’ll never find Bilbo on your own.”

“I’m not on my own,” Otho hissed bending down and glaring at the child. “Lobelia is just off over there in the woods looking for Bilbo.”

“I know,” Pippin snickered. “But she’s doing it all wrong and wouldn’t it be more fun if you found him first?” Pippin hopped from one foot to the other and hummed.

“You gotta go to the privy or something?” Otho asked in annoyance.

“Nope,” Pippin said still hopping.

“Then why don’t you stand still?” Otho asked as he straightened back up and moved further away from Bilbo’s tree.

“Oh, I hardly ever stand still,” Pippin said and he hurried to catch up with Otho. “My papa says that I have too much energy for my own good. I don’t know what he means by it when he says it but he says it all the time so it must be important.”

“You find him yet?” Lobelia shouted from way off in the distance. Bilbo couldn’t see her but his skin crawled at the sound of her voice.

“Not yet, dear one!” Otho shouted.

“You’re doing better than she is though,” Pippin said smiling at Otho. “You want me to go and get her before she gets too far off. She really is going the wrong way.”

“If you’re even the tiniest bit bright you won’t go anywhere near her,” Otho said in disgust as he continued to walk away from the tree. If it weren’t for Pippin, Bilbo might soon be able to climb down and sneak back home. He certainly didn’t dare risk that just now.

“Everyone says she’s an old shoe,” Pippin agreed.

Otho stopped in his tracks and turned to look at the lad. “What?”

“They say that she’s an old shoe and they don’t mean it in a nice way either,” Pippin said frowning. “I don’t know why they say that about her because she doesn’t look like a shoe. Hobbits don't wear shoes. The big folk wear shoes and so it would be funny for a hobbit to look like an old shoe, wouldn't it? I saw one once. The nice hobbit that runs the junk shop had it. He said that there were supposed to be two of them but he only had the one. I wanted to buy it but Merry said that it was smelly and that I couldn’t have it.”

Otho scratched his head and looked at Pippin. Bilbo smiled. He knew that poor old Otho had no idea what the lad was rattling on about. An old shoe indeed! Bilbo was sure that Pippin had meant ‘old shrew’. The lad talked more than he listened so it was hardly any wonder that he got things so confused.

“Listen,” Otho said tightly. “I don’t have time for games. I gotta find Bilbo Baggins or Lobelia is not going to be at all happy with me. Now you get on outta here and leave me to it!”

“Well, all right, but you’ll never find him over here,” Pippin said. “You are getting further and further away from his hiding place.”

“How would you know?” Otho asked.

“Oh, I can see him,” Pippin smiled cheerfully and he started to skip around Otho humming all the while and looking very smug.

Otho caught Pippin by his thin shoulders and pulled him to a stop. “You can’t see him neither. I been lookin’ all over for him and if I can’t see him then you can’t see him,” he said sternly. “So you can’t see him!”

“Can so!” Pippin said.

“No you can’t,” Otho insisted.

“Can so!”

“You can’t!”

“Can!”

“Can’t!”

“I can so see him,” Pippin said sticking out his pointed little chin and folding his arms over his chest. “You could too if you looked in the right place.”

“Is that so?” Otho said with a sneer on his face.

Bilbo’s heart seemed to be moving up into his throat now. Pippin was on the verge of giving away his position and there was nothing at all that he could do to stop the lad from running off at the mouth.

“It is!” Pippin crowed.

“Then if you can see him why don’t you show me where he is and we’ll both have a gander at him,” Otho said.

Pippin frowned and shook his head. “Can’t.”

“Why not?” Otho asked. He was almost as surprised as Bilbo was by this answer.

“That would be cheating and Merry says that if I cheat then no one will let me play with them,” Pippin explained and Bilbo felt a wave of relief wash over him. He silently thanked Merry Brandybuck for his instructions to Pippin.

“Then why in tar nation are you bothering me!” Otho shouted. “Why are you being such a pest if you never meant to tell me where he was?”

“I was going to give you hints and let you guess it yourself,” Pippin said. “That way you’d feel good about finding him and it wouldn’t be cheating. If I just tell you then that won’t be any fun for you.”

“I’m not doing this to have fun!” Otho shouted. “I’m doing this to find Bilbo Baggins! I’m doing this so Lobelia won’t spend the rest of the evening and half of tomorrow yelling at me! I’m doing this because I have to do it, not because it’s fun!”

Pippin looked at him for a moment and then he said, “Did you know that when you shout your face gets really red and your eyes pop out?”

Bilbo had to struggle not to laugh as Otho fisted his hands and glared at Pippin. “Has anyone every told you that you are a pain in the arse?”

Pippin giggled and covered his mouth. “You aren’t supposed to say that word.” He grinned. “I won’t tell anyone that you said it, but you have to be careful.”

“Otho! What are you doing with that child?” Lobelia demanded as she stalked out of the woods.

Otho straightened and looked in her direction with what might have been terror in his eyes. “Nothing, dear one!” he called.

“She looks mad and her hair is all messy,” Pippin said.

Lobelia approached them with her hair sticking out of its usual tight bun, her face flushed, and a tear in her dress near the hem. Her feet were covered in mud and her hands looked filthy.

“Dearest, what happened?” Otho asked. “Are you all right?” He hurried toward her.

“Do I look all right to you?” Lobelia screeched. “Am I normally covered with mud?”

“Of course not dearest,” Otho said looking pained.

Bilbo noticed that Pippin was watching the two older hobbits with interest. The lad seemed to have forgotten all about Bilbo for the minute.

Lobelia stalked on by Otho and toward the path into Hobbiton. “Am I all right? Of all the simple-minded questions to ask!” she ranted as Otho ran after her.

“Bye!” Pippin shouted and he waved at Otho who turned and gave him a rather puzzled wave in return and then hurried to catch up with Lobelia who was still ranting.

As the Sackville-Bagginses disappeared from view, Pippin ran over to the base of the beech tree and grinned up at Bilbo. “I was good and I didn’t tell him anything!”

“No, you didn’t,” Bilbo said still not knowing how he had managed to avoid disaster this time. He began to climb down slowly as Pippin stood beneath the tree hopping up and down and spinning in a circle.

“I guess you won!” Pippin crowed.

As Bilbo climbed down the last few branches he smiled at Pippin.

“Where are you supposed to be?” Bilbo asked and he reached over and ran a hand through Pippin curls.

“I’m just supposed to be waiting for Merry is all,” Pippin said.

“Where are you supposed to be waiting?” Bilbo asked.

“On the stoop in front of Bag End,” Pippin said.

“I see,” Bilbo said taking the child’s hand. “Don’t you suppose that Merry will be worried about you by now?”

“No,” Pippin said with a bright smile. “He didn’t want me waiting on him to start with. I was just doing it. He told me to go play and not to bother him. He said he was going to play with some of the older lads. I was only waiting for him because I knew he’d change his mind.”

“Well, then we should hurry back in case Merry has changed his mind and is looking for you,” Bilbo said.

“Wait ‘till he hears that I played hide and seek with you and Otho and that old shoe, Lobelia,” Pippin said happily. “He thinks he was playing with older lads but mine were way older than his! Lobelia must be at least a hundred or so, isn’t she?”

Bilbo chuckled.

The End

G.W. 10/28/2005

This story was part one of a little four part story written for Marigold's Challenge 27. In the challenge I was supposed to use the four elements, water, earth, air, and fire. The story was to take place at 'bath time'. Since this portion of the story involves Bilbo and Frodo, I thought I would repost it here under "Baggins!" You do not need to have read the other three parts because this one is completely separate from them. Anyway, enough rambling on, here's Bilbo and Frodo at bath time when Frodo is fifteen...

Beta by Marigold

“Bath Time”

Part 1: Bath Time: Water and Frodo

Bath time was one of Frodo’s favorite times of the day under normal circumstances but today he had been a bit reluctant to go to the bathing room. Bilbo had noticed that the lad hesitated slightly and had wondered if there was a problem of some sort. Frodo was fifteen now and perfectly able to take a bath on his own. Bilbo had everything in order for the bath, the room was warm, and the water was nearly hot, which was precisely the way Frodo liked it. Bilbo had placed nice, soft, clean bathing cloths in the room along with plenty of bath soap. He had even prepared a nice cup of mint tea for the lad to enjoy while bathing. Bilbo himself always took a cup of tea with him to his bath and so whenever Frodo visited Bilbo provided his young cousin with tea as well. Frodo seemed fond of the ritual but for some reason, this evening was different. Frodo had sighed deeply and asked, “Are you quite sure that I require a bath this evening?”

“Well, I do think it best for you to have one,” Bilbo had said. “I will be having one after you and then we shall both be ready for bed and perhaps a long, exciting tale before?” Bilbo had winked at Frodo but the lad’s smile had been somewhat forced. Still Frodo had gone on to his bath. The lad was always well behaved while in Bilbo’s care. In fact Bilbo couldn’t fathom why some of his Brandybuck relations complained about Frodo’s behavior. Bilbo had never seen so much as a hint of trouble from the dear lad.

***

Frodo smiled as he carefully slipped into the tub. He had been unsure as to if he would be able to pull it off but he had finally managed it. The hot water felt wonderful as he lowered himself into the tub. Bilbo hadn’t noticed a thing. Frodo smiled and seated himself being very careful not to get his book wet.

Frodo had found a lovely old book in Bilbo’s study this morning and had found it so interesting that he had been unable to lay it aside all day. He had read at the table while eating, he had taken the book outside with him to read in the garden. He had sat in the parlor and read it avidly after his evening meal and now, he planned to read it whilst in the bath.

Bilbo had a hard and fast rule about reading in the bathing room but Frodo had managed to slip the book past Bilbo. Bilbo didn’t mind if Frodo read anywhere else but he was quite stubborn about his rule regarding baths and books. Back at Brandy Hall, Frodo wasn’t allowed to bring books to meals but Bilbo didn’t mind that and often brought one along himself. Bilbo also encouraged Frodo to take a book or two to bed with him in case he woke up and wanted to read. Frodo loved this about Bilbo. He enjoyed staying at Bag End and being allowed to read to his heart’s content. Tonight, though, with this book at a very interesting place and bath time coming when it did, Frodo had been faced with a dilemma, hurry through his lovely bath so that he could return to the book or slip the book past Bilbo and read in the bath. Frodo had chosen the latter and was now settled into the warm, soapy water with the book in his hands. Satisfied with his trickery, Frodo leaned back against the tub and opened his book.

Everything was going along quite nicely until Frodo heard a knock on the door. Frodo jumped and shifted about as Bilbo said, “Frodo, lad, it’s getting a bit late and I still have to bathe as well. Do hurry it along a bit will you?”

“Y-y-yes, Bilbo,” Frodo said nervously. He hadn’t realized how long he had been in the bath. Now that it was called to his attention he realized that the water was growing cool and that most of his soap bubbles were gone. “I-I-I’ll be right out,” he said and began to stand and that was when it happened.

Frodo’s footing was slightly off in his haste to get out of his tub. Normally, he would have had two free hands to keep himself from falling, but the book was in one hand and so as he lost his balance and fell over the side of the tub onto the floor, he lost his grip on the book. He heard it splash into the water as he landed face down on the stone floor of the bathing room.

“Frodo, lad,” Bilbo was saying as he hurried into the room and helped Frodo to his feet. “Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself? I could hear you fall from outside the room.”

“I-I-I’m all right,” Frodo stammered as Bilbo handed him a soft towel to wrap about his waist. “I just lost my balance. I must have slipped.”

Bilbo was looking him over and he frowned a bit. “Yes, well, you get dressed and I will see you in the parlor. Are you sure that you aren’t injured at all?”

“I’m fine, really,” Frodo said and as Bilbo left the room and closed the door, Frodo turned hurriedly around and began to search through the water for his book. Most of the soap bubbles were gone but there was a film of soap still clinging to the surface of the water. Finally, Frodo caught sight of the well-worn brown cover as the book bobbed to the surface. He quickly reached out and snatched it from the water.

It was ruined! Every page of the book seemed to have swelled up and the ink had run. The water had seeped into the book’s pages and saturated them completely. Frodo stood there holding the book in his hands and a tiny moan escaped him. He was standing there looking at the book when a voice asked; “Drop it in the tub, did you?”

“Bilbo!” Frodo looked up at his older cousin who was standing in the doorway frowning at him.

Bilbo walked over and took the book from him and examined it. “Ruined, I’m afraid. Most of the ink has been washed away and the pages will never dry properly. I do hope you had come to the end of it because you aren’t likely to finish it now,” Bilbo said.

“I didn’t mean,” Frodo began but Bilbo held up a hand to silence him.

“You need to get ready for bed now, Frodo,” Bilbo said. “I shall dispose of this for you.” Bilbo left the room taking the book with him.

*****

Later as Frodo lay in his bed, Bilbo sat on the edge of it and said, “Water is a very powerful force my lad. “It has a strange way of getting into things and changing them.”

“I’m sorry,” Frodo said. “I only wanted to finish the book. I never meant to spoil it.”

“I know you didn’t,” Bilbo smiled gently. “But now you see why I have this particular rule, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Frodo said. “The book drank that water as if it were a bath sponge.”

“Yes, it did indeed,” Bilbo nodded. “Water is like that. If given any way to enter at all it will flow into a thing and fill it up. You don’t really think of books as being able to hold water, but they can if placed into water.”

“I don’t suppose that I will ever know the end of the story,” Frodo sighed.

“No, but you will remember not to bathe with my books, won’t you?” Bilbo asked.

“Yes, sir,” Frodo said a bit glumly. He suddenly brightened a bit and said, “Have you read that one?”

“I have indeed,” Bilbo smiled. “Excellent tale.”

“Then you remember it?” Frodo asked hopefully.

“I do,” Bilbo said standing. “I have read it several times in fact and know it quite well.”

“Then you could tell me how it ends after the lad finds that secret cave and goes inside,” Frodo said sitting up.

“I could,” Bilbo said. “But I doubt that my telling it to you would help you to remember not to bathe with books.”

Frodo watched his older cousin leave the room and close the door. He moaned and fell back onto his bed. Now, where was he ever going to find another copy of “Discovering Lost Treasure” by JoJo Overbank?

The End

GW 04/08/2006

“It’s All In The Details”

“Why are you awake?” Pippin groaned turning over and hiding underneath the covers.

“It’s morning. That’s what folks do when it becomes morning,” Merry said brightly. “They wake up and greet the new day.”

“Greet it for me, will you?” Pippin muttered from beneath the blankets.

“I’ve a better idea,” Merry said sitting down on the edge of the bed next to the lumpy pile of blankets. “Why don’t you crawl out of there and greet the morning yourself?”

Pippin growled something that probably wasn’t repeatable in polite company but made no effort to get up.

“I don’t think that would be very pleasant,” Merry said. “Besides, if I were to attempt that I might injure myself and then you’d have to get up and go get a healer.” He reached over and poked the largest portion of the blanket pile sharply.

“Ouch!”

“Come on, come out of there,” Merry said poking at the lump in the bed again. This time Merry poked slightly harder.

“Go away,” Pippin moaned. “Leave me here and go greet the morning in whatever way that seems proper to you. I won’t keep you.”

“You’re wasting a perfectly good morning,” Merry sighed.

“And you are disturbing a perfectly good sleep,” Pippin grumbled pulling himself into a ball and tightening his grip on the blankets.

“Trouble?” Frodo asked as he leaned against the door frame and looked into the room.

“One of us is less than enthusiastic about getting up,” Merry replied reaching over and swatting what he suspected was Pippin’s backside.

“Go away, Meriadoc,” Pippin growled. “Frodo, make him go away.” This last was said in a pleading tone designed to gain sympathy.

Frodo chuckled softly. “You know, I seem to recall you being an early riser, Pippin. In fact I am recalling some of your other visits to Bag End and it seems to me that you were usually the first one awake.” Frodo winked at Merry. “I’m not wrong about that am I?”

“No, I recall the same thing, Cousin,” Merry said. “In fact when Pippin used to visit Buckland he was always awake before I was.”

“Was he?” Frodo asked sounding as if this were news he’d never heard before.

“Oh, yes,” Merry said warming to the subject. “I can remember being sound asleep in my warm, comfortable bed dreaming pleasant dreams without a thought of rising and there would be our little cousin, Pippin up and ready for the day.” Merry patted the lump on the bed. “He’d come into my room wide awake and leap onto my bed and see to it that I was wide awake too.”

“That’s exactly how it used to be here as well,” Frodo said walking over and standing at the foot of the bed. “I would be sleeping so soundly that Peregrin would have to bounce on the bed in order to wake me.”

“And I suspect that he did bounce on the bed,” Merry said.

“He did so most enthusiastically,” Frodo nodded. “Why sometimes he very nearly bounced me out of the bed in his effort to wake me.”

Pippin groaned and shifted slightly. “Go away, please?”

“There was absolutely nothing that Pippin wouldn’t do to see to it that I was awake and that I didn’t miss a second of the morning,” Frodo went on as if Pippin had not spoken. “I remember how determined he was.”

“Determination is important,” Merry said tugging at Pippin’s blankets lightly. “You have to be determined if you expect to get anywhere at all in life.”

“I can remember wanting nothing more than to sleep for just a few more minutes,” Frodo sighed. “I believe I even requested that I be allowed to do so on more than one occasion but Pippin was so very persistent.”

“He can be, can’t he?” Merry said. “I can recall any number of quiet, early mornings when I might have wasted my time sleeping and instead Pippin saw to it that I was up and dressed and engaged in some sort of activity before I hardly had a chance to gather my wits.” Merry bounced a bit as he spoke.

“One time,” Frodo said raising the rather large bucket that he had been holding throughout the conversation. “I was being more than a bit reluctant about greeting the day. It was just a bit before dawn actually and so naturally I was fighting to remain asleep.”

“You do like to sleep until it becomes light, don’t you?” Merry said grinning broadly.

“It’s a weakness,” Frodo said.

Pippin muttered something about evil older cousins and made another impossible suggestion having to do with placing a large object into a certain orifice and kicked a foot at Merry who responded by bouncing a bit harder on the bed.

“Sometimes someone else has to see to it that you don’t fall victim to your own weaknesses,” Merry said.

“That is exactly what Pippin did for me, Merry,” Frodo said. He shifted the bucket slightly and moved up to stand beside of the bed.

“How did he do that?” Merry inquired looking wide eyed with interest.

“Why he took that extra step,” Frodo said. “He didn’t let a simple thing like the fact that I was completely exhausted stop him from seeing to it that I enjoyed the early morning hours. Why he thought quickly and he reached over onto my nightstand and he picked up the glass of water that I always keep there.”

“Why do you keep water next to your bed?” Merry asked poking at Pippin again.

“In case I get thirsty in the middle of the night,” Frodo said. “I don’t have to get up and go into the kitchen to get a drink. I just reach over, get my water and have a drink. Then I can roll over and go back to sleep again.”

“No feet on the cold floor in winter,” Merry said. “That’s very clever of you, Cousin.”

“Brilliant,” Pippin muttered. “Go be clever somewhere else, will you?”

“Come on, Pip,” Merry objected, poking Pippin a bit harder. “Surely you see the advantage of keeping water near the bed. Why for example, this morning it’s cold and no one has taken up the task of lighting the fires yet. Right now if you were thirsty-“

“I’m not!”

“But if you were, you’d have to go to the kitchen for water,” Merry said.

“No he wouldn’t, Merry,” Frodo said.

“He wouldn’t?”

“No, it just so happens that I try to be prepared for every eventuality when I have guests,” Frodo said.

“You are known throughout the Shire as the perfect host,” Merry said.

“Well, that is because of the little things,” Frodo said. “Details, Merry. It’s all about the small details. A good host knows that details are important.”

“A good host lets his guests sleep,” Pippin mumbled reaching one hand out from beneath the covers and making a grab for his pillow, which Merry snatched and tossed onto the floor by the bed.

“Now, Peregrin,” Frodo said a bit sternly. “What kind of a host would I be if I broke my word to you?”

“Huh?” Pippin whined.

“I used to promise you every single morning when you woke me that if you were ever to be unable to get out of bed in the morning I would be there to assist you just as you had assisted me all of those, cold, dark, mornings,” Frodo said taking one foot and shaking the bed with it while balancing the bucket.

“I don’t recall,” Pippin grumbled sleepily.

“Let me refresh your memory. It is likely just addled by sleep,” Merry offered. “I used to hear Frodo promising you that very thing from several rooms away and I recall promising you that also. Frodo would say something like, ‘One of these days, Peregrin Took, you are going to realize that the day does not have to begin before the sun rises. One of these days you are going to learn that sleeping can be enjoyable.’” Merry stood now and begin to speak in a much louder voice. “One of these days you will come to know that a few extra hours spent sleeping in makes the day all that much brighter. It is on that very day that I will come into your room and see to it that you don’t get to sleep any longer.”

“But you never seemed to listen,” Frodo sighed. “Finally you actually resorted to picking up my glass of water and dumping it on my head!”

“He didn’t!” Merry said looking astounded.

“Oh, but he did,” Frodo said.

“I was twelve,” Pippin moaned.

“You were fourteen and I had a dreadful hangover at the time,” Frodo said.

“Get over it and move on,” Pippin growled reaching his hand up to try and locate his pillow. Frodo and Merry exchanged glances as Pippin’s hand patted the bed searching for the missing pillow.

“It was winter and that water had ice in it from sitting on the night table all evening long,” Frodo said.

“That must have been dreadfully cold,” Merry said.

“It was,” Frodo replied. “It was a large glass too and so I was quite soaked.”

“Was it as large as that bucket that you have there, Cousin?” Merry asked.

“Well, no. It wasn’t that large, Merry but I do tend to do things in a very big way. It’s the details that are important,” Frodo said.

“Bucket?” Pippin murmured from beneath the blanket.

“I suppose that there is water in that bucket,” Merry said.

“There is.”

“Water in a,” Pippin shifted slightly and pulled his hand back underneath the blankets. “What bucket?”

“But I guess that it isn’t all that cold, is it?” Merry asked.

“You’d be mistaken on that, Meriadoc,” Frodo said. “It’s the little details that separate a good host from a great host and I am a great host.”

“Great annoyance,” Pippin muttered.

“You see, I was thinking ahead,” Frodo went on. “I saw a need for icy water and so I filled this very bucket that you see here in my hands-“

“You do not have a bucket,” Pippin growled.

“Want to place a small wager on that?” Merry asked.

“This bucket, that you see here in my hands,” Frodo repeated as if ignoring both of them. “I took it and filled it with water and then I had the foresight to set it out on the stoop all night so that it might be nice and cold this morning. You don’t think I would over look a detail like that, do you? I mean the icy temperature of the water was exactly the thing that made it impossible for me to remain in my nice, warm bed. I had to get up and change and build a fire and make tea and all sorts of things.”

“I should imagine so,” Merry said. “But an entire bucket?”

“There is no bucket,” Pippin muttered.

“Well, I suppose that would make an even larger mess,” Frodo said. “But I do like to repay my guests in kind, Merry. I enjoy being a good host and providing more of everything is one of the details-“

“I am so sick of details,” Pippin groaned.

“He’s right, Cousin,” Merry said. “Time is wasting. You should get on with it. There will be plenty of time to reflect on the details later.”

“If you’re certain,” Frodo shrugged.

“Reflect later,” Pippin growled.

“You heard him,” Merry grinned backing up.

“Very well,” Frodo said and with those two words he proceeded to raise the bucket up over the lump in the blankets and dump the freezing cold water out.

There was a howl from beneath the blankets that was most likely heard in the far corners of the Shire and maybe even as far away as Bree. This was followed by a desperate effort by the soaking wet occupant of the bed to untangle himself from the now freezing cold bedding. Blankets shifted and twisted and profanity was hurled about the room between the chattering teeth of the formerly motionless lump on the bed as Merry and Frodo stood back and watched with a vast amount of amusement. Finally, after what must have seemed like a very long time, the head of Peregrin Took emerged from the covers and he glared at both older cousins.

“Good morning, Pippin,” Frodo said smiling and patting the bucket with one hand. “Sleep well?”

Pippin proceeded to instruct Frodo on an interesting use for the bucket while climbing out of the bed in his wet night shirt.

“There’s a interesting idea,” Merry said. “Painful, but probably interesting.”

“I believe it is impossible though,” Frodo said.

“Folks would pay to see it done,” Merry said.

Pippin shivered. “Don’t just stand there! Build a f-f-fire!”

Frodo yawned. “You can if you’d like, Pippin. I think it’s warm enough in here. What about you Merry?”

“I’m fine,” Merry smiled. “Don’t trouble yourself on my account.”

“Evil, s-sick, t-twisted, nutters,” Pippin shouted as he looked about the room for something dry to put on. He stomped one foot in the puddle that had formed around his bed and glared at them. “I-I was t-t-twelve!”

“Fourteen,” Frodo smiled.

“Details, details,” Merry said. “Let’s go some place dry, Frodo.”

“I h-hope you b-b-both are h-happy now!” Pippin shouted after them. This was followed by more profanity.

“So, are you happy?” Merry asked as he and Frodo entered Frodo’s bedroom and shut the door.

“I am,” Frodo grinned.

“That was wicked of us, wasn’t it?” Merry laughed.

“Yes,” Frodo said, sitting the bucket down on the floor and pulling the bolt across his door. He yawned and stretched. “It has taken me ten years but I have finally got my revenge.”

“I have to hand it to you, Cousin,” Merry said. “You were very patient.”

“Yes, well, you can’t dump freezing water on a child,” Frodo said. “No matter how much you might enjoy it. You can’t do it.”

“It will take him hours to clean that up,” Merry said walking over and stretching out on the bed.

“And even longer to get warm again,” Frodo said coming over and stretching out on the other side of the bed. “Then he’ll likely be wide awake.”

“That bolt that you put on your door was inspired,” Merry said. “I know someone who will be looking for an opportunity to repay your kindness.”

“Yes, I suspect that he will be wanting to seek revenge,” Frodo said. “He won’t have to wait for me to become old enough to repay. He will be at liberty to get even whenever he feels the time is right. That is exactly why I installed that bolt before doing anything else.”

“Always seeing to the details, aren’t you?”

“I try,” Frodo said. “I’ve been waiting for just the right moment to repay Pippin for all of those early morning visits.”

“As have I,” Merry said.

“I suppose we should get some sleep now while Pippin is busy,” Frodo said pulling up the covers on his side of the bed.

Merry yawned. “We should. It’s a shame that we will have to miss the rest of the show. The really entertaining part of all of this is going to be when he realizes that it’s only one in the morning and he is wide awake.”

They both laughed for some time and then Frodo put out the lantern and each of them turned over and covered up. From another part of Bag End they could hear Pippin storming around cursing but it didn’t keep them awake for long.

The End

G.W. 09/10/2006

*This is the first story that I've written for this series in quite a while and this one is due to a Challenge offered over on LOTR_Community_GFIC. The challenge was set forth by Cathleen and any underlined word in the story below was a part of the challenge. The story had to begin with the line "I don't know why I thought it was a good idea." This was what I managed to come up with. This is Frodo, Sam, and Hamfast. It is pre-quest but Bilbo has already left the Shire. And if you don't know this already, THESE ARE NOT MY HOBBITS!

GW 11/30/2007*

“The Perils of Leaving Your Door Ajar...”

Characters are Sam, Frodo and Hamfast Gamgee

Rated PG

No warnings (except for the fact that no one did a Beta on this)

“I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea,” Frodo sighed. He and Sam were standing just outside of the open kitchen door peering inside as they talked. “No, that isn’t true really. I thought it was a good idea because it would air out the kitchen. I thought that it might be nice to have the lovely smell of the garden flowers inside as well as out.”

Sam frowned. “I could’a picked some and brought them in for you if I’d known you were wantin’ them.”

“That’s just it,” Frodo said. “I didn’t really want the flowers pulled up. I do hate it when they wilt and die in a vase on the table. I just wanted that fresh, fragrant, smell that flowers give to a place. That was when I decided that if I left the door open for a while it would accomplish this without pulling up the flowers.” He looked at Sam for some sign of understanding.

Sam looked into the kitchen and said, “All the same, I think the smell of this mess won’t be goin’ away anytime soon and that’s a fact.”

Frodo sighed and looked at his kitchen. Why was it that Sam was always so practical? Just now Frodo found himself wishing for a bit of Pippin’s thinking on things. In fact Frodo could hear Pippin saying, “That makes sense to me, Frodo. I’d have done the very same thing. I don’t know why it didn’t work?” Frodo shuddered slightly. This would have seemed like an excellent idea to Pippin! Now that thought really made him worry.

Sam was saying something again. “I don’t know but I think we ought to see if we can get the big fella outta there. Maybe if we can get that big one out then the little one will follow ‘im.”

“I don’t think the big one likes me,” Frodo said. “When I came in and found him eating the apples right out of the bowl on the table I was shocked to say the least. I’d been in the parlor reading and when I came in-“

“You yelled louder’n a farmer callin’ a stubborn hog,” Sam finished with a small smile on his face.

Frodo looked embarrassed. “That’s one way of putting it. I was surprised so naturally I shouted. My point is I startled the big pony and that’s when he knocked the table over and trampled on my pocket watch. It was lying on the table and when the table over-turned the pony crushed the watch.”

“What did the little one do?” Sam asked looking entertained.

“Oh, I think that one must be stone deaf. It didn’t react to my shouting at all. It just stood there munching on biscuits from the rather bent tin over there in the corner,” Frodo pointed.

“That the one what had the biscuits that the Widow Rumble brought over?” Sam asked squinting to make out some recognizable feature of the remainder of the tin. The ponies had obviously crushed it.

“That’s the very one,” Frodo said looking depressed. “I was really looking forward to some of the Widow’s biscuits for afters this evening. She makes such wonderful treats and those were the first biscuits that she’d seen fit to bring over since Pippin asked her that unfortunate question a few months back.”

Sam smirked. “Oh, you’re meanin’ that time when Mr. Pippin looked up at her and asked her if she was old enough to remember when the party tree was planted?”

Frodo grimaced. “That’s the question. It’s taken the Widow all of these months to forgive Pippin’s lack of tact and to let things between us as neighbors go back to normal and those biscuits were her way of letting me know.”

“I suspect that she ain’t goin’ to be too friendly when she finds out about this,” Sam said shaking his head.

“I don’t plan to tell her,” Frodo said looking surprised that Sam might even suggest such a thing. “Honesty is a fine virtue but I think that the less revealed about this the better.”

“She’ll be wantin’ her tin back,” Sam said. “You know she always says to bring the tin back when the biscuits’s is gone so she can fill it up for you again.” Both hobbits looked over at the mangled remains of the little blue tin. “I don’t think you’ll be able to return that tin and the Widow don’t think too kindly on folks what don’t return her tins.”

Frodo gulped. “I’ll just have to get her a new one. One that looks suspiciously like the one that she give me.” Frodo looked away from the tin and back at the pony that was currently munching on a quill and swishing its tail. “We have more important things to trouble ourselves with just now, however.”

“Is that a rabbit?” Sam pointed toward the kitchen counter.

“Where?”

“Near the bread box,” Sam said.

“Thunder! That is a rabbit!” Frodo shouted. “That makes three of those that I’ve seen. I just don’t understand how this happened, Sam. All I did was swing open the door to let in some of the spring air.”

“You was readin’ in the parlor for a right long time, Mr. Frodo,” Sam pointed out.

“I don’t think it was long enough for all of these animals to make themselves at home in my kitchen,” Frodo objected.

“Didn’t you say that you did some workin’ in the study too?” Sam arched an eyebrow.

“I may have,” Frodo said slowly.

“Then you was out front playing with the little lads from up the Row,” Sam remained him. “You was learnin’ them that new game what Mr. Merry taught us last time he come here to visit. I was comin’ back from town and I heard them little ones singin’ the song that you sing when you play that game and then I heard all of you laughin’. You was out there for at least an hour.”

“All right, Sam,” Frodo said a bit grumpily. “I may have got busy and forgot the open door. I didn’t realize that you were spying on me.”

Sam looked shocked. “I weren’t doin’ no such thing, Mr. Frodo. I was on my way from town is all. You and them little ones were out there running about and singing and I couldn’t help but notice you. Then you’re the one what told me you was working in the study this afternoon and it was you that mentioned reading in the parlor.” Sam looked injured.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Frodo said quickly. “It’s just this entire situation has me on edge. I have rabbits and ponies in my kitchen!”

“Don’t forget that goat,” Sam said pointing to a large, grey animal chewing contently on the curtains.

“How could I forget that goat?” Frodo sighed rolling his eyes. “If only I could forget that goat. That animal ate the strap off of my best rucksack and then urinated on the rest of it.” Frodo wrinkled up his nose in disgust.

“What confuses me about this mess is why that little pony is wearin’ a saddle,” Sam said. “Seems odd that the little thing would be runnin’ about with a saddle and no rider.”

“If that’s all that confuses you about this then you’re very lucky,” Frodo said dryly.

“I don’t think I’ll be doin’ any cookin’ in there tonight, do you, Mr. Frodo?” Sam said.

“No, I suspect that cooking won’t be possible for some time,” Frodo said. “I think I will be having my supper at The Ivy Bush tonight in Hobbiton.”

Sam smiled. “I could get a rope from the barn and we could see if we might be able to lead that big pony out ‘o there. I still think the little one’ll follow ‘im.”

“I am thinking of getting the pitchfork from the barn and chasing the lot of them out,” Frodo said scowling. “As to cleaning up afterward, I am thinking about getting the wagon, backing it up to the door, and throwing everything in that kitchen into the wagon and carting it off.”

Sam frowned. “You might be able to save the chairs and the table”.

“I’m not certain that I want to,” Frodo said surveying the room. “I think that the goat urinated on two of the chairs and those ponies, or one of them anyway, have left a deposit on the upturned table.”

“Don’t smell much like flowers in there now, I’m guessin’,” Sam said hanging his head to avoid Frodo’s eyes. He didn’t want Mr. Frodo to see how amused he was. He really shouldn’t be but it was such an odd set ‘o events that you just had to laugh.

Suddenly, a small reddish ball sailed through the window nearly hitting the goat and then bounced on the floor. The smaller pony picked up the ball and began to chew on it as if it were an apple. “Who threw that!” Frodo shouted, standing up and looking out into the garden. “I want to know who threw a ball into my kitchen!”

Sam looked at the kitchen and shook his head. “That there ball is the least ‘o your troubles, Mr. Frodo. Besides, I think that little pony’s done eaten it.”

Frodo waved a fist toward a group of children standing as still as stone just out of his garden looking guilty and shouted, “Get off my property before I hang the lot of you to the nearest tree for your cheek! You don’t throw things into my kitchen and get away with it!”

The littlest of the children began crying and all of them ran as if they were being pursued by goblins. Frodo frowned, embarrassed by his over-reaction and he looked at Sam. “I don’t know what made me do that.”

“I guess you’re a might worked up over all them farm animals in your kitchen,” Sam said trying not to laugh. “Oh, at least you’ll be havin’ fresh eggs, Mr. Frodo. That there chicken what was roostin’ in your roastin’ pan is nestin’ there and I think you should have several eggs. My old Gaffer says she the finest layin’ hen that you have.”

“Wonderful!” Frodo groaned. “I’ve frightened the neighborhood children, there’s pony dung on the table, a goat has eaten my curtains, a I think those two brown rabbits are in the process of making more brown rabbits.”

Sam winced. “That’s what they’re doin’ all right. I ain’t never seen rabbits seein’ to their affairs in a bread box a’fore.” He smiled. “I did see a couple ‘o foxes cuddled up in a wheel barrow once but them rabbits in that bread box beats all.”

“That is one bread box that will NEVER be used as a bread box again,” Frodo declared. He began to rub his temples with his fingers and he said, “I am very glad that Bilbo isn’t here to see this. He’d have been furious. He’d have likely sent me off to live in a cave by myself for a thing like this. This is the sort of grand mess that Pippin might have made, Sam.”

“I don’t think Mr. Pippin could a done it better,” Sam said smiling. “If it was me, I’d be in there catchin’ them animals, Mr. Frodo instead ‘o out here watchin’ them. The longer there in there the more likely they are to move into some ‘o the other rooms.”

“Oh, they’ve moved in all right,” Frodo said eyeing the rabbits again. “They’ve made themselves right at home!”

“Oh, look!” Sam said surprised. “You got squirrels in your walnut sack!”

Frodo’s eyes widened.

“If you ask me,” Hamfast Gamgee said as he startled both of them by leaning in the window and patting the goat on the head. “At least one ‘o you has got walnuts in between your ears and both ‘o you are actin’ right squirrely.” He looked into the kitchen and said. “That little pony with the red saddle must be the one what run off from down by the forest behind the row. It dumped the littlest Bracegirdle on her backside and left her wailin’ so’s you could hear her all the way to the Brandywine River!”

“Well, you can tell that child that she needs to come up here and get her pony out of my kitchen,” Frodo said looking defiant.

The Gaffer grinned. “I’ll do that very thing and while I’m about it I’ll let the Widow know that you won’t be returnin’ her biscuit tin.” He turned to go and Frodo shouted. “Gaffer! Wait!”

Hamfast stuck his head back into the kitchen window. “Yes, Mr. Frodo?”

“Could you not mention the biscuit tin to the Widow Rumble just yet?” Frodo said. “I’m planning on trying to replace that before I explain what happened to her tin.”

The Gaffer shrugged. “Won’t matter. She’s a right caution about her tins. She pummeled old Tom Cotton near within an inch ‘o his life last Yule for misplacin’ one ‘o her tins. The Widow is right fond ‘o her tins. When she finds out that you let one ‘o them get busted up like that I suspect the King will come back a’fore you get any more biscuits outta her.”

“I imagine you’re right,” Frodo said mournfully.

The Gaffer took one last look into the kitchen, probably so he could describe it all accurately to his friends down at the Tavern and then he turned to go. “Least you ain’t got no pigs in there. Pigs make a big mess,” Hamfast said.

“Lucky for me,” Frodo sighed. “I’m so happy that I could go out dancing. There are no pigs in my kitchen and the smial is too small for a horse to get in!”

Sam grinned. “I’ll get that rope, Mr. Frodo. We can’t lure none ‘o them out ‘o there with food cause they’ve already ate but maybe we can drag them out.”

“Yes, now that the Gaffer is off reporting my insanity to the entire countryside, let’s see if we can get the livestock out of the pantry,” Frodo said sarcastically. As Frodo watched Sam leave for the barn he saw a bird land on the eave of the smial and he bowed low to it and waved an arm toward his still-open kitchen door. “Go in. Make yourself at home, Mr. Bird but I’d not get too close to that goat if I were you.”

The bird seemed to consider the offer but chose to fly away instead of into the kitchen. Perhaps the tiny creature could see that Bag End was already full to the brim with animals. Shrugging, Frodo leaned in the doorway and watched as a tiny mouse scurried across the floor and into an open sack of sugar. “In all the years that I’ve lived here Bag End has never had mice!” Frodo said annoyed. But, as Sam might say if he weren’t in the barn now, “That’s the least of your troubles, Mr. Frodo.” Frodo sighed deeply and leaned against the door jam. “What I need now is a large keg of ale. If I start drinking right now then in about an hour it shouldn’t matter that I’m standing outside of my ruined kitchen talking to myself. If I’m drunk this will all seem normal.” He sighed. “Who do I think I’m fooling? This is all about as normal as a goose rowing down the river in a boat!”

“At least,” Frodo said trying to find something reassuring. “They are all in the kitchen.” That was when he spotted the goat munching on the hair brush that he usually kept on his dressing table. It was then that Frodo let out a yell that caused Sam to coming running toward the smial, rope in hand, and that same yell was probably heard by the Elves in Rivendell. It was the end of the week before all of the squirrels were out of Bag End and the village of Hobbiton is still taking about Mr. Frodo Baggins keeping farm animals in his kitchen.

The End

GW 11/30/2007

“Adventures Foretold”

“You’re thirty-three now.  You've come of age,” she said proudly with a smile as she straightened his collar.  “Folks tend to expect more of you the further into your thirties you go, my lad.”

He looked into her quiet grey-green eyes that seemed to change colour with her mood and nodded.  He knew well that she wasn’t finished speaking but merely pausing for effect.  She often did that.  She had this well-measured way of saying things that was so different from all of her other relations.  His mother’s side of the family seemed to speak quickly, moving from one topic to the next as if being carried off by the wind but she was different in that respect.  She always thought out what she was going to say.  She rarely spoke without purpose.

“Some folk may say that it’s time you made a match for yourself and gave me grandchildren.  They may say that you need to settle into a routine and make a contribution to the community,” she said this with an expression of distaste.  “I say that you are still too young yet to go on about all of that.  There will be time enough for it later.  Have some adventure.  Do something that you fancy.  The lasses of the Shire will be here when you’ve a mind to take up raising a family.”

“What sort of an adventure should I have?” he asked as she handed him his new dress coat.

“I’m certain that I haven’t a clue what sort of adventure,” she said kissing his cheek lightly.  “It just seems to me that you should have one.  There’s more than a bit of Tookish blood in you my dear one and though you give the impression of being a proper Baggins like your father, I do believe that something of my family will live on in you.  The Tooks are known to be more adventurous than most and so, sooner or later; I suspect that adventure will call you.  You can’t know how it will present itself but at some point in your life, Bilbo Baggins, an adventure will seek you out.  You must be ready.”

“It may at that,” Bilbo agreed a bit nervously.  He didn’t want to tell her that he hoped to find a quiet life for himself at Bag End.  Like most parents, she had such hopes for him.  He didn’t like the thought of disappointing her.  Still, for all of her claims to the contrary, at heart he really was a Baggins.  He would lead a quiet, well-ordered life.  He would be well thought of and respected.  If adventures did seek him out then he would walk the other way and ignore them.  There were plenty of Tooks in the Shire that would love to go adventuring.  Let adventure find them and leave him alone.

She interrupted his thoughts.  “Now, let us get you to the Great Hall and to your birthday party, dear one.  You have guests waiting.”

He took her arm and smiled over at her.  “Did you have an adventure?” he asked.

“My entire life has been an adventure, darling Bilbo,” Belladonna Took Baggins laughed.  “Every minute of it.  You are a part of that adventure and when I am gone you will go on adventuring for both of us.”  She squeezed his arm and in that moment he couldn’t imagine a time when she would not be with him for she seemed so very alive.  “Happy Birthday, Bilbo.  May your life never be dull,” she said softly.

  GW 09/21/2008

“A Shared Birthday”

Frodo handed the small, brightly wrapped package to his cousin Bilbo and waited nervously for him to open it.  He didn’t know Bilbo as well as he would have liked, but he liked the old hobbit all the same.  It was important to him that Bilbo be pleased with the gift he had chosen for him.

Bilbo smiled at him and then turned his attention to the gift.  “Well, what have we here?” he said as he begin to unwrap it.  “Whatever has my dear cousin who shares my birthday given me?”

“Open it!” little Merry shouted as he bounced up and down at Frodo’s side.  “Open it and see!”

“Splendid advice,” Bilbo said reaching over and patting Merry on the head.  He then opened the package while Frodo waited nervously beside of the energetic Merry.

A smile slowly spread over Bilbo’s face and he held up the item.  “Frodo, I can’t thank you enough for this,” he said as he admired the gift.

“You got to thank him,” Merry objected frowning.  “Even if you don’t like it you still got to thank him.  It’s not polite if you don’t.”

“Hush, Merry,” Frodo whispered amused by his seven-year-old cousin’s confusion regarding what Bilbo had just said.

“Do you like it?” Frodo asked hopefully.

“I do indeed,” Bilbo smiled.  “It’s a very fine quill and I will enjoy writing with it.”  He turned the quill in his hand lightly and then slipped it gently back in to the box.  He put the box into his coat pocket for safekeeping.  “I have some lovely red ink that I have been thinking about using to draw a dragon and this quill will do the job very nicely.”

“Then say thank you,” Merry prompted, still not completely certain that Frodo was receiving his due.

Bilbo chuckled.  “I will do that very thing, Meriadoc,” Bilbo smiled.  “Thank you, Frodo for the lovely quill.  I shall make good use of it.”

“You write with it,” Merry said helpfully.

“ Yes, Merry, thank you for pointing that out,” Bilbo said patiently.  He turned to Frodo again and said, “And, for our shared birthday, I would like to give you this.”  He handed Frodo a gift.

“Open it!” Merry urged bouncing again. 

“I will, Merry,” Frodo laughed.  He unwrapped the package and his eyes shone with pleasure when he removed the item from the wrapping.  “Oh, Cousin Bilbo!  Thank you so much.”

Merry wrinkled his nose.  “It’s a book.”

“It’s a book about the Dwarves of Dale, Merry,” Frodo said reading from the cover.

Merry seemed uncertain as to why that might be important and he frowned at Bilbo.  

Bilbo smiled.  “Even if you don’t like a gift, a young cousin of mine says that you are supposed to say thank you,” Bilbo whispered giving Merry a wink.

“Did you get me a book about Dwarves too?” Merry asked looking crestfallen.

“No, I’m sorry to say that I didn’t have another copy of that book,” Bilbo smiled.  He handed Merry a brightly wrapped package.  “I suppose this will have to do, Merry.”

Merry tore open the package quickly while Frodo and Bilbo watched in amusement.  “It’s an army!” Merry shouted looking into the small wooden box.  “It’s a dwarf army!”

“So it is,” Frodo grinned.  “What do you say to your Cousin Bilbo, Merry?”

“Thank you!” Merry shouted.  “I’m going to show them to Berilac!  He doesn’t have any of these!” With this pronouncement, Merry ran off holding the box next to his chest with both hands and calling for Berilac.

“Do you suppose that later we could read some of my book together?” Frodo asked Bilbo shyly.

“I think that would be very enjoyable,” Bilbo smiled.  “It will have to wait until after our shared party as it won’t do for both guests of honour to sneak off.”  He patted Frodo on the shoulder.  “First we shall have some of Esmeralda’s apple cake and give out the rest of our gifts, but after everyone else is gone, we can find a quiet corner and read your book.”

“It’s time to serve the cake!” Esmeralda Brandybuck called out. 

As the two birthday guests of honour made their way over to the table together, Bilbo leaned over toward Frodo and said, "You know, Frodo my lad, you should come to Bag End and live with me and then we can celebrate our birthdays together every year."

Frodo smiled, pleased with the idea.  This was the first time that Bilbo had mentioned this to him but it would not be the last.

GW     09/22/2008

Here's a surprise.  Thanks to Shirebound's birthday, I have a new story for this little group.  Anyway, Happy Birthday to Shirebound and here's a bit of Bilbo and Frodo.  I originally posted this to my Live Journal so you may have read it there.  


BARKING UP THE LONG TREE

“And what do you have there, my lad?” Bilbo asked leaning in for a closer look.

The young hobbit lad hurriedly covered the paper with both arms, still clutching a stick of charcoal tightly in one hand.  “Nothing,” the child pronounced, a serious expression on his face.

Smiling ever so slightly, Bilbo nodded.  “I see.  Still a work in progress then and not ready for viewing?”

The eight-year-old frowned as if thinking this over and then said, “What does that mean?”

“It means that your work isn’t finished and you’d rather not share it at the moment,” Bilbo explained patiently.

“No,” the youngster said firmly.  “It’s nothing.  I’m not doing nothing.”  As he spoke, he tried to cover even more of the parchment with his charcoal-smeared arms. 

The child had been stretched out on the floor of Bilbo’s study working away when Bilbo had entered the room.  Earlier, while clearing away the tea things, Bilbo had somehow lost track of his very young cousin.  There had been no noise to alert Bilbo that the child might be up to mischief and not being used to having a little one around, Bilbo had completely forgotten that young Frodo was there.  It had been almost an hour before Bilbo had remembered his visitor.

Sitting in his favourite chair by the fire, enjoying the silence, and nicely filled up by the lovely jam tarts that Belle Gamgee had made, Bilbo had nearly fallen asleep thinking about what a nice late evening snack the remaining tarts would make.  Then, he’d snapped wide awake when he recalled that a good portion of those tarts had been gobbled up by young Frodo Baggins.  The same Frodo Baggins whose parents were relying upon Bilbo to look after their child for the day while they took care of business in Hobbiton.  The very same Frodo Baggins that Bilbo seemed to have lost some time after tea.

Bilbo had bolted up from the chair and searched frantically for the lad until finally spotting two tiny feet stretched out from behind the old sofa in the study.  The rest of the lad was out of view.  For a frightening moment, Bilbo imagined that Frodo had fallen and was lying unconscious and bleeding amid the stacks of books he kept piled behind the sofa.  Then, mercifully, he’d heard the sound of charcoal on parchment and seen one tiny foot move.  The lad was unharmed and, unlike many youngsters of Bilbo‘s experience, was entertaining himself quietly with only the help of parchment and charcoal nicked from Bilbo’s desk.

Too relieved to scold the child for pilfering, Bilbo had made his way behind the sofa for a look at the lad’s project only to find that young Frodo was unwilling to reveal his work.

“I understand.  You aren’t doing anything at all, but if you *were* doing something, what would it be?”  Bilbo asked squatting down beside the child.

Frodo blinked.  Adults could be very confusing sometimes.  He relaxed his grip on the charcoal and placed it careful on the edge of the parchment.  “But I’m not doing nothing,” he said still not certain what this elderly relation might want.

“No, of course not,” Bilbo smiled.  “But if you were to imagine that you were doing something worth sharing, what would you be doing?”

The word ‘imagine’ triggered a smile from the lad.  He seemed to light up from within and he looked at Bilbo with interest.  “If I imagined something then I’d be in the tallest tree in the whole Shire with my best dog,” Frodo said.

“You have a dog that can climb trees?” Bilbo asked sounding impressed.  He was very amused by the idea of this tiny lad perched in  the upper-most branches of a tree with a dog sitting beside him.  He wanted to know about this amazing, imaginary, dog and he wanted to get to know young Frodo better.  The lad was a most uncommon child.

Frodo nodded.  “His name is Fetchit and he and I climb trees all the time.”

“Fetchit?  That’s an unusual name,” Bilbo observed.

“I named him after one of the tricks he can do,” Frodo explained.  “I can throw any stick and he can fetch it as quick as you please so I just call him Fetchit.”

“How many dogs do you have?” Bilbo asked.

“Two,” Frodo said holing up two dirty fingers.  “I have Buck and Fetchit.  Fetchit is my best dog.”

“Because he can climb trees,” Bilbo said.

“No, because he’s big enough to ride,” Frodo corrected.  “I ride him all the time.  He’s as big as a pony and he’s fast too.  I get on him and he runs right up a tree with me on his back and I don’t fall off ever because I hold on tight and because Fetchit is a good dog.”

“That’s very impressive,” Bilbo said, and indeed it was impressive.  The child had a wonderful imagination.  “I don’t suppose you have a drawing of Fetchit, do you?” 

Frodo thought about it for a minute and then said, “If I show you it, will you be angry?”

“I don’t think so,” Bilbo said.  “Why would you think that I might be angry?”

“Because I might have drawed Fetchit with some things I found in here,” Frodo said watching Bilbo closely to see how he might take this news.

“Well, I don’t think I would be angry if I knew that from now on, you would ask my permission before using my things,” Bilbo said.  “I can see how important it is that you make a drawing of this wondrous dog, so I am willing to overlook your transgression this time.  In the future, I will not be so lenient.  Do you understand?”

Frodo blinked and shook his head.  “No.  What’s a trance-gressum?  You said you could look over mine but I don’t think I have one.”  Frodo held up the charcoal and grinned hopefully.  “Is this one?”

Struggling not to laugh, Bilbo shook his head.  “A transgression is, well, never mind what it is just now.  What I was trying to say is, I won’t be angry with you as long as you ask me before you use my things the next time.”

“Oh,” Frodo smiled.  “I can do that.  I’m good at asking for things.”

“Most children are,” Bilbo smiled.  “Now, may I see your drawing?”

Slowly, Frodo sat up, uncovering the parchment that he had been hiding.  “It’s not so good as the drawings on your desk of that dragon but it’s pretty good,” the lad said hopefully.  “My Mum says I’m good at drawing.”

Bilbo looked at Frodo’s artwork and smiled.  In one corner of the parchment, was a drawing of a very big animal with big ears and a tail. It did look very much like a dog and sitting next to the dog was a smiling stick figure that could have been a child.  Both were in a very big tree that had only one limb at the top.  The tree started at the bottom of the parchment and went all the way to the top corner.  “That is a very big tree,” Bilbo said.

“Wait,” Frodo said excitedly, getting to his feet and hurrying over to a stack of parchment that Bilbo had not noticed before.  “You haven’t seen all of it!” 

Bilbo watched in stunned silence as Frodo placed piece after piece of parchment end to end until he had a line of drawings that covered the length of the room.  On all of the sheets, save the one that showed the dog and the smiling stick-hobbit, all that the child had drawn was two parallel lines running the length of each page so that the very tall tree went on for twenty pages.  “That isn’t really as tall as the tree is, but you ran out of parchment so this is all I can draw of it.  It’s lots bigger.  You have to imagine the rest of it,” Frodo explained. “Oh, and Buck, my other dog is hiding behind the tree so you can’t see him in this drawing.”

“That is a very big tree,” Bilbo managed to say.  It was also a very expensive tree since the lad had used Bilbo’s finest parchment for the drawing.  Bilbo winced inwardly at the fact that most of the sheets were only marked with two shaky lines.  But then again, the lad did say that this was the tallest tree in the Shire.  Bilbo supposed that he should be grateful that the lad ran out of parchment because he suspected that Frodo could never run out of imagination.  He chuckled, thinking of Buck hiding behind the tree.  “That is a very impressive drawing and Fetchit looks like a splendid dog.”

Frodo grinned proudly.  Most adults would have asked a bunch of silly questions and given him reasons why a dog couldn’t be up a tree but his cousin, Bilbo hadn’t done that.  He liked Bilbo very much.  He was different from other adults.  “You can hang this in here if you want to,” Frodo said shyly.

“I’d like that,” Bilbo said.  He looked at the line of parchment.  “I may need to get a ladder first though.”  This was a marvellous child.  Bilbo couldn’t wait to see what kind of an adult this clever, imaginative, lad might become. 

“I can draw you a ladder if you have more of this parchment,” Frodo offered.

“Perhaps this time, I’ll just use the ladder that I have in the barn,” Bilbo said quickly.

The end

GW            03-29-2009

For the Hobbit-Ficathon Challenge:  write a ficlet in which a gift or gifts play a part.
Rated: G
Characters:  Sam, Frodo and Bilbo

This is an anti-recipe fiction.  After you’ve read it, I think you’ll know exactly what I mean.

Posted to Dreamwidth originally.

“You ate half of them?” Frodo asked looking amazed.

“I think so,” Sam winced, arms wrapped firmly around his stomach.

“But Sam, we *never* eat anything that Tulip Grubb brings over,” Frodo objected.  “You know that.  Bilbo and I have both warned you about it many times.  She‘s a lovely hobbit and she has a good heart but she can‘t cook.  It‘s frightening what she does to perfectly good food.”

“I didn’t want to hurt her feelings none, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said as he sank down onto the sofa.  “She said them biscuits were a gift what she made just for me, special like.”

Frodo frowned at the seventeen-year-old lad.  “A gift?  What kind of a gift?”

“She said she fixed them for me, on account of I helped her with her flowers this spring,” Sam said. 

“What did you do to deserve this?” Frodo asked.

“It wasn’t much at all,” Sam said modestly, missing the sarcasm in Frodo‘s tone.  “I just mixed up a batch ‘o my Gaffer’s secret fertilizer for her and spread it on her flower beds.”

“I’ve seen her flowers this year, Sam,” Frodo smiled.  “They are lovely.  You deserved a gift, but I don’t think those biscuits were the proper sort of payment.  Between you and me, I‘d have rather eaten your Gaffer‘s fertilizer mixture.”

“She brought them by while I was workin’ on Mr. Bilbo’s rose bushes, you know them ones by the front gate?” 

Frodo nodded.  He knew which rose bushes Sam meant.

“She was so nice and all and she wanted to wait and see did I like them, so I ate a couple of them while she watched.  I didn’t see the harm in it.”  Sam lay down on the sofa and pulled his knees up next to his aching stomach.

“Just you rest, Sam,” Frodo said.  “Bilbo will have that indigestion remedy of his ready in a few minutes.  It works fairly quickly.  I’ve taken it many times myself.”

Sam moaned softly but didn’t respond. 

Frodo covered his young friend with a blanket and went out to the kitchen to see how Bilbo was coming along with Sam’s medicine.

Bilbo was mixing things together in a large mug when Frodo entered.  Frodo noticed the half-empty tin of biscuits sitting on the table and frowned.  “Bilbo, you aren’t eating those are you?”

“What?  By the over-heaven, no lad.  What do you take me for?”  Bilbo asked.

“Was that full when she gave it to Sam?” Frodo asked eyeing the offending biscuits nervously.

“Sam says the lid fairly popped off when he opened it and that it was stuffed full of those biscuits,” Bilbo said adding a bit of salt to his mixture.

“Did Sam eat all of those?” Frodo asked.  “Or did he maybe toss some in the bushes to make it look as if he’d eaten them?”

“If he has tossed any of them in the bushes, then I suspect we’ll have some dead squirrels and rabbits in the yard by morning,” Bilbo said.  “Take this to the poor lad and make sure he drinks every drop.”  Bilbo handed Frodo the mug.  “I’ll find a way to rid us of these biscuits.  Maybe I’ll bury them under the Gaffer’s garden shed.”

“Not the tin though,” Frodo warned.  “Sam will have to give that back to her.”

“I wouldn’t if I were the lad,” Bilbo sighed.

“Why not?”  Frodo asked.

“There’s a chance that she’ll take that to mean she’s to fill it up again,” Bilbo said with a shiver.

Grinning, Frodo took the mug of indigestion remedy in to Sam.
“Bilbo says you’re to drink every drop of this and that I’m to see that you do,” Frodo said.

Sam managed to sit up, taking the mug in both hands.  The poor lad still looked a bit green in spite of the fact that he’d thrown up a considerable amount of the biscuits earlier. 

“Sam?” 

“Yes, Mister Frodo?”  Sam said still trying to build up the nerve to drink the remedy.  His poor stomach had been through enough for today and he wasn’t sure it was fair to force anything else down there just now.

“Why did you eat so many of the biscuits?”

“I was tryin’ to be polite, Mister Frodo,” Sam said.  “Them biscuits were a gift and even if they weren’t the best biscuits in the Shire, she meant well.”

“That’s true,” Frodo agreed.  “Still, wouldn’t she have been convinced that you liked them even if you’d only eaten say, three of them?”

“I expect, now that I come to think on it, she might have done,” Sam agreed.  “But she seemed so pleased that I were enjoying them and it got hard to stop.”

Frodo smiled.  “Well, in spite of the fact that eating anything that Tulip Grubb bakes is ill-advised, it was very nice of you.”

“And then I was worried about wastin’ them,” Sam said.

“Wasting them?”

“Well, there were a right fair amount of them so they must have cost her a pretty penny,” Sam said.  “My Gaffer says that it’s not good to waste food.”

“I’m not certain that Tulip Grubb’s cooking could be called food,” Frodo said.

“It ain’t good food, but it’s food all the same,” the young lad assured him.  “Some folks would have been glad to get it, I expect.  O’ course I don’t know anyone that desperate myself, but there’s always them that can use more food.”

“I suspect that you’re right,” Frodo said though he doubted that even the poorest, hungriest hobbit would have been able to eat half a tin of Tulip Grubb’s biscuits.  “So you ate all of those just to please her and because you didn’t want to waste them?”

Sam had just finished downing the indigestion remedy and he handed Frodo the mug back.  Bilbo was standing in the doorway listening to the two younger hobbits talk but he didn’t say anything.

“Well, there *was* one other reason,” Sam said as he lay back down and allowed Frodo to tuck the blanket around his shoulders.

“What was that, Sam?” Frodo asked.

“I kept hoping that directly, they’d get better,” Sam said.  “I reckoned that if I gave them biscuit’s a chance, they might grow on me.  I didn’t used to like onions much but my Gaffer kept cookin with ‘em anyway and now I like them.  The taste grew on me over time.  I thought maybe Mrs. Grubb’s biscuits might be like onions, if you take my meaning.”

Frodo lowered his head so Sam wouldn’t see him trying not to laugh.  “You thought that if you ate enough of them, you’d develop a taste for them?”

“Yes, Sir,” Sam said closing his eyes.  “Sometimes it’s just a matter ‘o puttin in an effort when it comes to food.”

“Well, if you ask me, when it comes to Tulip Grubb’s cooking, the best effort is the one that helps you avoid it,” Frodo said.

“Still, gift biscuits don’t come along every day,” Sam said.  “My Gaffer always says folks shouldn’t turn their noses up at other folks’ best efforts and a gift should always be appreciated even if it isn’t what you’d think to ask for.”

Frodo stood as Sam drifted off to sleep.  When he turned around, he noticed Bilbo standing in the doorway grinning.  “Frodo my lad, I think I know just how to rid ourselves of those biscuits,” Bilbo said.

“You aren’t going to bury them?”

“No, I think I’ll give the rest of them to Hamfast Gamgee and see if he can manage to be grateful for them,” Bilbo grinned.

“Bilbo!”  Frodo looked horrified.  “You’d give the Gaffer those scary biscuits?”

“Oh, I’ll tell him where I got them, eventually,” Bilbo said, smiling.  “But I think he might need to have a talk with Sam about exactly how far one should go when appreciating a gift.  The gift of the rest of those biscuits, just might inspire him to do that.”  Bilbo winked.

The End

GW     09-21-2010