Beta read by my dear Budgielover. Any mistakes are mine, not hers. Thank you, Budgie!

Drought and Doughty Hobbits
By: Neilia

Dry lightening had become the Shire’s greatest fear. The common concerns of summer; heat, dust and marauding hobbit-lads pilfering from gardens, had paled before the greater threat of drought. And now worse than drought. Fire. The Shire was ablaze in various locations and the Hobbits were hard-put to smother the flames before dry lightening struck again. Everyone was on smoke watch.

The air was too hazy around the Brandybuck family holdings to allow much activity outside, except for the most necessary. Animals had to be fed and stalls mucked out. Hobbit wives and older lasses took over the home-front chores while their husbands and older lads were fighting to keep the Shire as free of flame as possible. The sheep were a constant bother. They were ever breaking out of their pens…the smoke making them much too fearful to settle. The holes and farms that had larger barns placed their sheep in the stalls to make them stay put.

* * *
Wiping his brow only to smear soot across his forehead a young Hobbit...dry coughing accenting every fourth breath...leaned on his shovel surveying the field where he had helped put out a fire. Turning his attention towards the west where dark plumes of smoke rose and blew away into the wind like all the Shire’s hopes of a good harvest, Merry Brandybuck sighed, "Rain would be a very welcome thing right now, Da."

Leaning on his own shovel, his Da agreed whole heartedly, “This keeps up, (cough) the whole Shire is in trouble. This summer has been unusually long and hot. (cough, cough) The dry tinder in the Old Forest is high danger to us. Paladin has some of his men cutting the undergrowth back. It seems that the trees are not interfering in any way, so the work is going swiftly.”

Merry's thoughts turned to his young cousin, Pippin. Frowning, Merry rasped, “Uncle Paladin has his hands full, and not just as Thain. I would that we could send him some help, Da.”

Taking a drink from the skin and passing it to his son, the Master of Buckland responded softly, “Every Hobbit Buckland has is needed here, son. I fear Paladin and the Tookland and all the Shire is on its own. We are all on our own.”

Merry’s eyes filled with tears, but he dashed them away with the back of his hand. He swallowed his sob with a gulp of water, “Yes, Da.”

* * *
Across the Brandywine in Hobbiton, digging trenches and setting backfires had given way to more urgent tasks. Here too, no Hobbit stood idle regardless of rank. Bilbo and Frodo Baggins, Master and Heir of Bag End, were helping Hamfest Gamgee and the other families of Bagshot Row draw water and pour it on the thatched part of their rooftops. Bilbo mostly supervised, since Hamfest would not allow the old gentlehobbit to climb out on the thatch.

“Now, Mr. Bilbo, Master Frodo can climb up ‘ere.” The old gardener was staring upwards, where an active young hobbit was scrambling over the rushes, a pail of water in each hand. “We need you to spot for us and make sure we get all the thatch covered. Please sir.”

“Drat, old I may be, but I’m hardy and strong!” Bilbo mumbled. However, allowing that ‘spotting’ was needed, the elderly hobbit watched their efforts carefully, calling out warnings and admonitions in a strident voice.

Working as quickly and efficiently as they could, they stole nervous glimpses at the darkening sky. High noon and the sun glowed deep red.

“Hoi! A new fire to the east of Hobbiton!” came the hue and cry, “All hands to the east!”

Hastening over to Bilbo, Frodo said, “Uncle, let’s get you to Bag End and then I can join the others!”

“Humph! I can fight just as well as anyone, my lad! Lead on. We go together!”

Frodo knew from the stubborn set of his dear Uncle’s jaw and the determined gleam in his eyes, that there was no changing his mind. Frodo nodded and they set off on a trot, gathering sacks and shovels on their way.

Fortunately, the fire had been caught while still small. It only took a couple of frenzied hours to beat the blaze into submission. A few stout fellows stayed to make sure no hot spots remained that might flare again.

Bilbo and Frodo  made their ways wearily back to Bag End. Sighing with relief, they entered the cool entryway. Bilbo placed his arm around the slight shoulders of his heir, “Well, my lad, are you ready for a bath and some late afternoon dinner? We missed one hearty meal when that new fire broke out.”

“Oh, yes, Uncle. You bathe first, and I will get dinner started, please.”

Bilbo was going to insist on switching the tasks but then he looked into his lad’s tired blue eyes. He clamped his mouth shut and nodded agreement. Shuffling down the hallway, he thought, “I’ll just make sure there is plenty of clean hot water for my boy when I finish.”

*  *  *
The dangerous weather pattern lasted for two more weeks and then dark clouds gathered over the blighted land and blessed rain began to fall. Little Hobbit-children ran out of their holes and cottages laughing and began dancing and splashing. Many a grown Hobbit joined in the fun.

Bilbo and Frodo stood outside and let the warm wonderful wetness wash away bone-deep weariness and mental fatigue.

Sighing, Frodo inquired, “Do you suppose this means that the danger is finally past, Uncle?”

“Let us hope so, my lad, let us hope so.”