With thanks to RiverOtter for the beta!

Bilbo’s Shire, A to Z

Aldagrim Took

            Aldagrim Took sat down beside his cousin Bilbo, both of them watching as Aldagrim’s son herded the farm’s sheep into the paddock.  Bilbo waved his pipe.  “Your Paladin is a fine lad.”

            Aldagrim nodded.  “That he is.  A most practical and industrious young Hobbit.  He does well by the farm.  And after all the lasses, he’s proved an excellent son and administrator.”

            Bilbo took a puff, then commented, “He doesn’t believe my adventures.”

            “No, he doesn’t.  His practicality is a bit too much like that of Ferumbras.”

            Bilbo grunted, “Then he’ll do well enough as the Thain’s Heir, I suppose.”

Bag End

            Bungo’s Folly, the folk of Hobbiton called the new hole the Baggins was having constructed high on the Hill.  He had a fine hole already, after all, down along Bagshot Row.

            But Bungo Baggins loved Belladonna Took, and had rather madly declared he would bring her home to Hobbiton, but to the finest smial in all the Shire.  When her father subscribed to the idea enough to make available a good portion of her dowry ahead of time, eyebrows were raised.

            Once it was done, however, all doubts were forgotten.  “Bag End is truly magnificent!” they crowed proudly.

            Bungo glowed.

Children’s Priorities

            “Callia—fetch the faunts!” called Cosmo Chubb to his eldest daughter as Odo Proudfoot leaned on the wall dividing the two dooryards.

            “You are taking all nine children to the party?” asked Odo.  “Thought you didn’t find Bilbo Baggins quite respectable enough to take your children near him.”

            “Nor do I,” admitted the Chubb as he herded the children toward the wagon.  “But it takes a good deal of provender to keep so many these days.”

            Little Carnelian, however, beckoned for their neighbor to lean down to her.  “I like to go because he tells the best of stories!”

Dearest Dora

            Dear Dora, and her letters of advice!  Bilbo thought as he perused the latest to arrive at his door.

            You Cannot continue to allow that Poor, Blameless Child to Languish in the wilds of Buckland! it admonished.

            Blameless?  Well, Dora Baggins had a good deal to learn about her nephew, if she thought young Frodo a total innocent!  He was indeed a dear one, but nowhere the prodigy Dora thought him.

            “Sufficient to the day is the mischief thereof,” Bilbo murmured to himself as he turned to preparing for his coming journey to fetch the lad home—at last!

Echoes

            “Echo!” Pippin called, and the denuded Great Room repeated, Echo, echo.

            He shivered.  Echoes were not common within the Great Smials, and this one seemed unnatural.

            But Lalia had insisted that this room needed new plaster and to be painted afterwards, and Ferumbras and the Took-moot had agreed.  And now that the tarps protecting the floors had been removed all seemed strangely empty.

            That would change tomorrow, of course, once the stand for the musicians was returned, and the tables and chairs placed around the edges of the room.  Then Frodo would dance there with Pippin's sister Pearl once more….

Fetching Frodo

            Fetching Frodo.  He was doing it at long last.  How had he managed to be convinced, year after year, to leave the poor lad be, there in Brandy Hall?  True, they were his mother’s people.  But, still, Menegilda had almost smothered the dear boy.  Bilbo hoped he wasn’t too late to save the child’s spirit!

            Then he remembered the look in Frodo’s eyes as he’d insisted that the Sackville-Bagginses not be advised of the proposed adoption.  No, he decided, there was spirit in the lad yet.  He smiled as he thought of all the lessons he could give in Elvish….

Gathering Gladiola

            “Good!” grunted Bilbo, smiling down at the letter he’d been reading.

            “Good what?” asked Frodo, looking up from the translation Bilbo had set him for his morning lesson.  Sam glanced up briefly, then returned his gaze to the line he was copying.

            “Cousin Gotto Grubb has finally decided to propose to Gladiola Gravelly.  He plans to ask her to marry him next week at the Harvest Banquet at the Grange Hall.”

            Frodo grinned at Sam over their work.  “Then shall we gather gladioli, Sam, for their table at the banquet to help Gotto gather his Gladiola?”

            Sam laughed with glee.

Helping Hamfast

            “Here, Gaffer—let me take that!”  So saying, Frodo took the barrow he’d been pushing, steering it past the lilacs toward the compost pile.

            Taking out his handkerchief with a gnarled hand and wiping his face, Hamfast Gamgee watched after the young Master.  “Him’s shapin’ up well, Mr. Bilbo,” he assured his employer.  “A proper thoughtful lad him is!”

            Bilbo nodded.  Had he tried to do as Frodo had just done, his gardener would have been affronted to think his master felt he wasn’t up to the job.  But none seemed to think Frodo other than merely eager to help.

Inspiration

            I’ve found so much to inspire me over the years.  My father’s love of the gardens about Bag End inspired me to learn more about propogation and crossing strains.  My mother’s love of books inspired me to read.  My grandfather’s blood must have inspired me to seek to prove Gandalf’s boasts of me as an intrepid burglar and adventurer.

            But it is you, my beloved lad, who inspires me to be the best I can be—to be honest and courageous and patient and unstintingly generous.  All it takes is one smile of delight from you, and I melt!

Justice

            “Just what d’ye think as ye're doin’ here, lads?”

            Sancho Proudfoot and his cousin turned in dismay from the bags they’d been filling with apples from Bag End’s orchard.  Gaffer Gamgee and his youngest son, that Sam, stood over them, matching disapproving glares on each face.

            Soon enough the two of them were busy, raking leaves and gathering windfalls—as well as apples shaken by them from the trees—for the cider press.  “Only fittin’ as you help set right what you’ve helped cause,” Sam sniffed.

            But from the top of the Hill Frodo winked down at them.

Kissing Cousins

            “Kindly unhand my daughter!” insisted an irate Paladin Took.

            Frodo, however, kept one arm across Pearl’s shoulder.  “I will never do aught against her honor, Uncle Pal,” he declared, “for I love Pearl truly.”

            Bilbo was uncertain how he ought to react.  He knew that Frodo would never behave toward Pearl in an untoward manner, but still!  To be caught kissing in the first larder?  And as much as he cared for Pal and Lanti’s eldest, he still felt that somehow Frodo could do better for himself.  After all, Narcissa also loved the lad, and she had the keener wit.

Likin’ the Young Master

            “Lad,” began Hamfast Gamgee tentatively, “you’ve been spendin’ a lot of time with the young Master….”

            Sam smiled up at his father.  “Oh, yes, Dad—him’s a right special one, he is!  There’s no one quite like Master Frodo—not nowhere!”

            The Gaffer’s heart twisted at the words.  Oh, my dear ninnyhammer of a son, he thought, but it don’t do t’tie your heart to the likes of Master Frodo, for he’s of a different world.  He’ll be out there, a-dancin’ neath the light of stars, candles, and torches; but you’ll be left here, a-grubbin’ in the dirt!

Master and Man

            “Most unnatural, how your gardener’s lad has tied himself to young Frodo,” Lobelia sniffed.

            Unnatural?  Bilbo could see the look of concern growing in Dora’s eyes at the mere hint of impropriety.

            But how could he fault young Sam?  Did not Hamfast follow his own orders, doing all Bilbo asked of him?  Sam merely followed his father’s example.  Sam had made it plain he was Frodo’s man, a faithful vassal to one who promised to be a most puissant of lords.  He would do aught asked of him by Frodo Baggins.

            If only most masters were as honorable, Bilbo thought.

Nightmare

            “Nassty, tricksy Hobbitses!” the creature with the bulbous eyes hissed.  “It takes our Precious!  We must find him and get it back!  Gollum!”

            Bilbo woke with a start, realizing he was sweating heavily.  Outside the open window a persistent wind gusted through the garden, now coming from the daylilies, and now from the compost pile.  He wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

            “I need a hot bath.  That will do the trick!” he promised himself.

            But he knew the dream awaited him, only needing for him to doze off for it to claw at him once more.

Officious Otho

            “Order!” Otho called out.

            Few heeded his directive, however.  The Family Heads were less likely than the remaining handful of Sackvilles to listen to the commands of the likes of Otho Sackville-Baggins.

            “Pardon me,” said Bilbo quietly, tapping his water glass with his spoon.

            All went silent immediately.  They might consider me mad, Bilbo noted to himself, but at least they know that when I suggest something it usually is with good reason.  Aloud he said, “I do believe Will Whitfoot wished to address us all.”

            Across the room he could see his cousin seething with barely suppressed, impotent fury.

Pesky Pervinca

            Pearl, as the oldest, was treated with the most respect.  Pimpernel had set herself to be the helpful one, and all were glad to see her coming.  Pervinca had been the coddled baby for quite some time, until at last he was born, that much-desired son and heir! 

            After being the center of attention for so long, Pervinca wasn’t allowing her place to be stolen completely by a mere lad!

            “Mummy—the faunt has taken my ribbons!  And he’s broken my dolly!”

            Bilbo shook his head.  “That lass needs a good spanking, followed by a thorough cuddling,” he advised.

Quick Hands

            Quick hands in Bag End’s gardens efficiently pull out the weeds and pinch off destructive aphids from green stems.

            Quick hands in the study make quick work of copying out texts.

            Quick hands in the kitchen slap loaves of bread into shape and see them swiftly into the oven for the day’s meals.

            Quick hands in the dairy dash cream to butter to flavor scones for tea.

            Quick hands in the parlor swiftly mend torn shirts and trousers.

            Quick hands in the smithy form useful plows and tools.

            Quick hands in the marketplace earn Lotho Sackville-Baggins the title of Thief.

Ripe Apples

”Ripe apples, ripe apples, we savor them so.
Ripe apples, ripe apples, in pies now they go!
A red one, a green one, plus yellow and pied,
The pie won’t be finished till all are inside!

“Ripe berries, ripe berries, we pick them this day.
We eat them, we cook them, we give them away!
Groundlings, from brambles, from bushes and shrubs;
We’ll pick all the berries ere they’re eaten by grubs!

“Now bake me a tartlet, now cook me some jam!
I’ll eat apples and berries with taters and ham!”

        Bilbo heard Frodo singing, and lustily joined the chorus.

Samwise

            “Samwise?” questioned Frodo.  “Why did the Gaffer and Mistress Bell name him that?  There’s no foolishness in him!”

            “You’re right there, my lad,” Bilbo agreed.  “The young Hobbit is as sagacious as they come, our Samwise Gamgee.”

            They watched him, kneeling soft-eyed over a stand of snapdragons he was planting opposite the study window.  Glancing up, Sam caught Frodo’s eye, and smiled worshipfully before returning his attention to the flowers.  He stroked one bloom with a single finger, then grinned as he made it gape open.

            “Sagacious, and an utter slave to what lifts his spirits,” whispered Bilbo to himself.

The Traitorous Truant

            The ring he’d found during his adventure occupied his mind.  He couldn’t comfortably leave it home, and he knew instinctively he should wear it rarely.  So, how would he ever explain its presence in his pocket?  Hobbiton knew that Bungo Baggins had worn no ring. Everyone in the Great Smial knew Gerontius hadn’t left such a thing to his grandson.

            When twice he realized it had fallen out of his pocket and he found it, once on the garden path and once in the square in front of the Green Dragon, Bilbo knew he must somehow keep it from escaping.

And with special thanks to Kaylee!

Umbrellas

            “Umbrellas!” cried Bilbo.  “Where are they all?”

            “How can they be gone?” asked Frodo.  “I bought you two more just last month, after you told me how Lobelia came by hers.”

            “I know.  And we had at least four before that.”

            The two stood, looking at the empty umbrella stand.

            “I know!” Bilbo exclaimed.  “Abelard!  You know how he is about borrowing umbrellas.  He’s been here at least a half dozen times this last month about those invitations you’ve been writing for him.”

            Frodo sighed.  “Perhaps,” he suggested, “you should just give him the stand as well?”

            Bilbo smiled slyly.

Visiting with the Violets

            Vito Hornblower smiled.  “Welcome, Bilbo, Frodo!  My wife, Veronica.  Our son, Verdigris, and our daughters Violetta, Viola, and Violet.”

            The three lasses looked much alike, each with a viscous smile, each dressed in vivid purple.  They grabbed hold of Frodo and began dragging him about their home, competing for Frodo’s attention with increasing violence as the day progressed.

            At dinner time Frodo finally escaped.  He dragged Bilbo into a back bedroom and secured the door with a chair under the knob.  “Uncle, you have to get me out of here!  Those lasses—I think they’re trying to devour me!”

Writing Wills

            “What are you doing?” asked Frodo.

            “Working on my new will.  Making certain that that there are no loopholes that might allow the S-Bs to ever take possession of Bag End or the Hill, much less allowing Otho to become the Baggins.  Can you imagine how they would lord it over Ponto and Porto, as well as over the Gamgees and Twofoots?  Begonia Rumble would definitely suffer!”

            Frodo nodded.  “Lotho already thinks he has license to do as he pleases, no matter who might be hurt.”

            “All the more reason to confirm you as Master of the Hill, not them!”

X Marks the Spot

            “Exactly there!”  Sancho waved the crumpled map in his hand, nodding toward an open space on the edge of the orchard.  “The treasure should be there, by that grey stone.”

            Soon three Hobbit lads were digging eagerly, and within an hour their hole was three feet deep.

            “It’s quite the trick to play on them,” Frodo objected.

            Bilbo laughed.  “But there is a treasure of sorts hidden there.  See?  They’ve found it!”

            The three lads ran off with their spades and the small box, and Hamfast Gamgee, shaking his head, started toward the hole with a new sapling to plant.

Yesterday

            Yesterday I was important enough, I suppose.  I was Master of Bag End and the Hill, and the Baggins.

            But today I am far more than that, now my lad has come home with me.  Now I’m the guardian to the finest Hobbit the Shire has ever produced.  (Although I suspect all parents tend to think that of their young ones.)

             But, somehow, I know that I have the right of it!  Now, to see him properly prepared to take on that role fully!

            You will make the whole of Middle Earth better for having lived in it, Frodo Baggins!

Zest

            “Zest!” exclaimed Bilbo as he buttoned his waistcoat.  “That is what I needed at this time in my life—some reason to be glad to awaken in the morning, and to add interest to my days!” 

            Satisfied with his own appearance, he slipped down the hall and peered into Frodo’s room.  The lad lay, still sound asleep, in the midst of his bedding.  There was nothing to indicate Frodo intended to awaken within the next week.

            “Hmm.  It appears that this one needs some zest of his own.”

            Smiling in anticipation, he went to fetch a sodden bath sponge….

Some Day

            “Some day Mummy and Daddy and I will visit Bag End again, the first time in years.”

            That someday didn’t come.

            “Some day we will go out to Bree together, Frodo-my-lad.”

            That someday didn’t come, either.

            “Some day the river of road that starts at Bag End’s doorway will sweep me away again, I fear, for I’m apparently not so good at keeping my feet.”

            “Some day we will all go out of the Shire together and face our own dragon and come home fabulously rich, just like Bilbo.”

            Those somedays came, but were not as joyful as planned for.