So far as I can find out, no one has ever written a definitive "biography" of the life of Bilbo Baggins.  This is my attempt to do so. 

It will be grounded firmly in the fanon space of "my" Shire-universe, and there may occasionally be passages you recognize from some of my other stories.  I will try to keep that to a minimum as much as I can.  Also, I will be using the two-thirds age conversion for hobbits that I have always used. 

I hope all of you will enjoy this story of young Bilbo and how he grew up to become the hobbit who followed Gandalf and thirteen Dwarves "off into the Blue for mad adventures"!

I completed this story as a part of the  wipbigbang, and the artist assigned to me made me two beautiful large banners, and small chapter banners for each chapter. If you'd like to see her lovely work you can find it here at Banners for Eleventy-One: Too Short a Time by Knowmefirst. 

22 Halimath, S.R. 1290

Belladonna crossed her arms over her swollen belly, and gave an angry snort.  She felt bloated and uncomfortable.  Her feet hurt, her back hurt, and she had no intention of being reasonable!  "It's your fault, you know!" she snapped at her husband.

Bungo sighed, and hung his head.  "I'm sorry, my love.  Is there anything I can do to help?"

She pursed her lips and turned her head away.  "Just leave me alone."

He didn't say anything else.  She waited, but the silence hung in the air, and then there was the softest of snicks as the door closed.  "Bungo?" she said meekly.

But when she turned her head, he was gone.  

Miserable, she burst into tears.  Her abominable temper had got the best of her once again. You would think I would learn, she thought. He won't fight with me at all!  We can't have a good argument, even when he knows I'm being a complete fool!

No, Bungo would simply retreat when she was angry, and by the time he returned she was always contrite and sorry.  

She wept for a long time.  It truly was her fault she was so uncomfortable.  It was she who had insisted on this visit to the Great Smials this close to her time, and it was she who insisted they take the pothole-ridden  post road instead of the longer road by way of Michel Delving.  Finally she was wept out.  She started to get up to go to the washbasin and splash water on her face, and a sudden pang made her sit right back down again.

Oh.

Oh dear.  She drew in a deep breath, and stood up again.  Carefully, she made her way to the door of her room and opened it, clutching it and leaning against the frame.  "Mother?" she called plaintively. "Mother!"

***

Adamanta Chubb Took had watched the silent and dejected figure of her son-in-law pass her like a ghost as went on his way.  He was probably headed outside to walk in the gardens.  She often marveled at the match between the level-headed and humble Baggins and her fiery daughter who was as Tookish as they came. But, she smiled, time will tell.  When we first wed, Gerontius was the high-strung and temperamental Took and I was the level-headed and predictable Chubb-- but after all these years we've rubbed off on one another.  Now he is level-headed and practical, too, and I am occasionally as unreasonable and foolish as a born Took!

"Mother?  Mother!"  

The alarm in her daughter's voice brought Adamanta up sharply.  That was not simply the misery of a lass who's had a row with her husband!

She made her way quickly to her daughter's side, noting the puffy face and red eyes.  But those eyes were touched with fear, not sorrow.

"Mother?  I think I had a pang.  But it's a little soon..."

"Only by a couple of weeks, dear.  And it may be false labour."

"How can I tell?"  

Adamanta shook her head at the frightened face.  It was hard to cast her mind back all the way to her first time, and how frightened she was-- eleven other children, most of whom had made their way into the world much more easily than the first, had rather dimmed the memory of that first difficult time.  She placed an arm around her daughter's shoulders, and led her back into the room.  "We won't know for a while, until the pangs begin to come more closely together.  If you have a few more, I will send for Mistress Posy and Mistress Matilda."  Mistress Posy was the Great Smial's resident midwife, and Mistress Matilda was the family healer.

"Thank you, Mother," Bella whispered, as her mother tucked her into the bed.  "I was horrid to Bungo," she confessed in a sad little voice.

"I know, dear.  But you can be sorry later."  She smoothed her daughter's dark chestnut curls away from her forehead.  "Would you like Mother to sing to you?"

"Yes, please."

Adamanta began to sing in a soft sweet voice an ancient Shire lullaby:

“Evening has fallen, the Sun’s in the West.
The nightbirds are calling, the Shire is at rest.
Peaceful the night and gentle the breeze,
In cot and in smial, the folk take their ease.
High above the Stars are kindled,
Kith and kin within are nestled,
Safe from harm
In loving arms,
Find slumber deep,
Fall into sleep,
May joy find all your dreams,
May only joy find your dreams…”

Belladonna began to relax.  Her mother finished the lullaby, and began to sing another song, and then another, and then she just hummed sweetly for a while as she stroked her daughter's head.

Suddenly, Bella gave another cry.  "Oh dear!"

Adamanta nodded, and rose from her chair.  "Where are you going Mother?" Bella asked sharply.

"Nowhere, dear."  She took an hourglass from the mantelpiece and brought it over to the nightstand, where she turned it before placing it there.  Then she sat down once more by her daughter's side, and held her hand.

Belladonna had two more pangs before the sands ran out.

"I think I shall send for Mistress Posy and Mistress Matilda now."  Adamanta rose and went to the door.  "Gerontius!" she called.

"Yes, Addie?" came her husband's voice.

"Would you please send Clover to fetch Posy and Matilda?"

***

Gerontius raised an eyebrow.  "Bella?" he asked.

"Yes, dear.  I think we are about to become grandparents once more."

It was but a moment's task to find Addie's chambermaid Clover, who was sitting in her mistress's room doing some mending.  At the master's request, she gave a grin and jumped up to run her errand.

Gerontius watched her leave, and then after a moment's thought, he fetched his jacket.  He had seen his son-in-law leave earlier; the lad needed to know if his wife was in labour!

He poked his head into Belladonna's room, where Addie sat by their daughter's bed.  "Addie, I'm off to fetch Bungo."

His wife nodded.  Bella gave a little moan.  "Father?  Tell him I'm sorry?"

Gerontius smiled.  "I'm sure he knows that, child!"  Indeed, others marveled at Bungo's patience with his volatile wife, but Gerontius knew the lad adored her and that he knew she loved him no matter what she said or how.  

***

Mistress Posy arrived first.  When Clover had brought the message, she woke her apprentice Lily.  "Wake up, lass!  Mrs. Belladonna looks to be in labour; I'm going now.  As soon as you get dressed, come along and bring the birthing stool and swaddling cloths!  You'll be needed to help and to boil water and so forth."  

Lily was a new apprentice, only twenty-six, and this would be her first time to attend a birth.  Her brown eyes grew wide.

"Don't fret!  And Mistress Matilda will be there as well."

Lily nodded, and hopped out of bed.  Her clothing was nearby, all laid out, as her Mistress had taught her.  Satisfied that the lass was awake enough to do as she was bid, Posy hurried off.  The Thain's family quarters were all the way on the other side of the Great Smials.

"Hullo, Miss Bella!" she said cheerily and bracingly as she entered the room.  She gave a bob of her head to Adamanta.  "Lady Adamanta".

Adamanta grinned at the midwife, who had delivered five of her twelve children.  They were good friends in spite of the formalities of address.

***

Gerontius had to search a while before he found his son-in-law standing by the duck pond morosely chucking stones into the water.  He shook his head.

"Bungo!"

Bungo gave a startled yelp.  "What is it?" he asked.

"You are wanted. It seems this little Baggins has suddenly decided to be impatient to enter the world."  He studied the hobbit's face, and watched as gloom was replaced with a mixture of joy and alarm.

"Why didn't you say so?" he said, somewhat illogically, as he began to hurry back, all his annoyance with his wife forgotten in his worry.  

Gerontius chuckled. "I've been through this twelve times. It never gets any easier."  He followed at a slightly more leisurely pace, and Bungo was forced to slow down out of courtesy.  He was still champing to go.

The Old Took put his arm about Bungo's shoulders.  "It's only just begun, son.  The first one always takes hours and hours.  We have plenty of time."

By the time they arrived, so had Mistress Matilda.  Bungo went in for just a moment, to see Mistress Posy and Adamanta each holding one of his wife's arms and walking her about the room.  The apprentice was busy at the hearth with a kettle and a basin. He was only there long enough for him to find his wife's eyes and see the apology there.  But there was no time to speak, for at that moment, her water broke.

"What's wrong?" he cried.

Mistress Matilda turned and gave him an exasperated look.  "It's perfectly normal, young hobbit!  You don't belong in here right now!  Your wife is in good hands. Shoo!"

Belladonna turned. "Bungo?" she called plaintively.

"This is women's work, dearie," said Mistress Posy.  "Now, take another step."

Bungo gave an agonized look at his wife, and then, feeling Gerontius' hand upon his shoulder, he allowed himself to be drawn away.  The healer closed the door behind them firmly.

***

Hours later, Belladonna had completely lost track of the time.  As the contractions came more closely together, they had ceased to turn the hourglass.  Now they had moved her from the bed to the birthing stool, and her occasional cries as the pangs hit had become yells and screams.  She was holding her mother's hand tightly, and now the midwife was telling her to push, as she knelt before the birthing stool.  Lily was holding a tray with scissors and clean cloths, while Mistress Matilda stood nearby.

Bella gave a great shout as she pushed, and she felt something give way.  With an abruptness she was unprepared for, she could feel the child leave her, and see it being received into Mistress Posy's waiting hands.  The midwife grinned. "It's a lad!"

And then he was being held upside down, and the midwife gave him a smack on his little bottom.  His cries were healthy and loud, and Belladonna found herself weeping and laughing at the same time.  "It's a lad! It's a lad!" she whispered hoarsely to her mother, who was leaning over her shoulder.

The apprentice assisted as the midwife cut the cord, and the child was cleaned.  He was handed up to the healer, who examined him carefully.  She smiled at the new mother.  "He has all his proper fingers and toes, dear!  I think he is perfectly healthy."  She leaned over and placed Bella's son into her arms.

Belladonna leaned over him.  "Oh, you are! You are perfect!"

Now it was her turn to be cleaned up and to be put into a clean nightgown, and to be helped back to the bed.  She felt weak and wobbly, and lay back gratefully among clean linens, for the apprentice had changed the sheets while she was on the birthing stool.  When they place the little one back into her waiting arms, he was all nicely swaddled, and wrapped in the lovely pale green blanket traditional for lads.

With a smile, Adamanta went over to the door and cracked it open: "Bungo, you have a son. Mother and child are well. Come in and meet your lad."

He entered the room timidly, and made his way to the bed.  There was an expression of awe on his face that Belladonna had never seen before.

Bungo bent and dropped a kiss on her brow, and then looked at the baby.  Bella saw the love for this new son dawning in his face, and felt tears sparking.

Suddenly she felt like laughing. "I don't believe 'Bertha' is at all suitable. So I suppose it will have to be the other name we decided on."

Bungo grinned. "Hello, Bilbo Baggins," he said.

Chapter 2: Encounter, Part One

Forelithe, S.R. 1291

"Meh!" said ten month old Bilbo, pounding his spoon upon the tray of his high chair.  Bang! Bang! Bang!

"You impatient child!" scolded his mother fondly as she set his bowl of porridge in front of him.  He was not yet weaned, but he was certainly enjoying his solid food.  As soon as the bowl was set down, he abandoned the spoon to use more direct tools: his hands.  He plunged both of them into the bowl and soon it was all over his face.  Belladonna gave an exasperated laugh, and washed him off with the wet cloth she had nearby for this very eventuality.  Then she took up the abandoned spoon and began to feed him.

"Bungo, your son has dreadful table manners," she teased.

Bungo turned from the fire where he was tending a skillet of sausages for the more adult breakfast.  "My son?  I can't imagine that a Baggins would be anything other than a paragon of manners!" he said, trying to maintain a solemn expression.  

"Perhaps he is a changeling, and we have been given a Bracegirdle instead," said Bella.

"Perish forbid!" Bungo sputtered, as he pulled the skillet to the hearth.

They were interrupted by a pounding at the door.  "Whoever could it be at this hour?" Bungo said as he got to his feet.  "I will get the door.  You stay here with our little imp!"

But now that his mother was feeding him delightful porridge with honey and cinnamon and dried fruit, he was behaving beautifully, a blissful smile given to her with each bite.

She heard faint voices from the hall.  Whoever it was, Bungo did not invite him in.  There was silence for a few moments, and then her husband silently padded back into the kitchen.  He was holding a letter in his hand.  "It was the Quick Post rider from the Great Smials!"

"You didn't ask him in for refreshment?"

"No, I gave him coin to go to The Ivy Bush if he likes.  I don't think we are ready for a guest this morning."  Both he and his wife were still in their dressing gowns.

He handed the letter to Belladonna.  Though it was addressed to both of them, it was in the Old Took's own hand, and Bungo thought his daughter should have the privilege of opening it.

She turned the spoonful of porridge over to him, and as Bilbo gave another impatient "Meh!" his father conveyed it to his mouth, though he kept a curious eye on his wife.  He hoped it was not bad news-- the Thain rarely saw fit to use the Quick Post.

She had slipped a finger beneath the seal and unfolded it.  Her eyes scanned over it briefly, and she gave a cry-- but one of joy, not shock!  "Oh, oh Bungo!"  She grinned at him.  " 'Gar is back!  Gandalf found him and brought him back!  We must go at once!"

Bungo looked at her in surprise.  When her youngest brother Isengar had vanished three years ago, the Tooks had been despondent, certain that he, like his older brother Hildifons before him, would never again be seen in the Shire.  He and Belladonna had been mere newlyweds at the time, and he had not known the youngest of the Tooks very well-- the tween had seldom found his stodgy Baggins brother-in-law worth the time to speak to.  But he had grieved along with his wife at the child's loss.

"Yes, dear!  As soon as we finish first breakfast, I will go down the Hill to Greenbriars and let the family know we are off to Tuckborough.  And then I will go to The Ivy Bush and hire their pony-trap.  If you pack while I am gone, we can be off directly after second breakfast."

"Meh!" said Bilbo.

Not content to wait while his parents discussed such unimportant things, he picked up his entire bowl and planted his face in it.

***

Bungo left Bag End, and headed down the Hill, past Bagshot Row, and around to the western slope, then went up the lane slightly to the Baggins family hole of Greenbriars.  He supposed that one day Bag End would become the family hole, since he expected his father to leave Greenbriars to Longo; after all, Bungo had his own hole now!  But as eldest son, Bungo would become the Baggins Family Head.

His youngest brother Bingo threw open the door at his tug upon the bell.  At twenty-eight, he still had a certain tween lankiness and awkwardness about him.

"Bungo!  What brings you round so early?" Bingo asked as he drew his older brother inside.

Bungo could see the family gathered round the large dining table in the room to the right of the front hall. To his dismay, he saw his Aunt Pansy there.  He had forgotten that she was on one of her frequent visits.  And Uncle Fastolph, who could usually keep her tongue in check had not come along.  

"Won't you join us for first breakfast, son?" his father asked.

"No thank you, Papa.  I have already had mine.  I just wanted to let you know that we shall be off to Tookland for a few days."

"Is something wrong?" his mother Laura asked.

"No, actually, it is good news!  Bella's brother Isengar has returned."

"Oh how wonderful!" exclaimed his younger sister Linda.

Aunt Pansy's face was sour, however.  "Hmph!  Just more Tookish turmoil!  Just when everyone thought him gone for good, he comes back to stir up all the old gossip!"  Aunt Pansy had never forgiven the Tooks for the scandal of Rosa Baggins' underage marriage to Belladonna's brother Hildigrim.

Mungo frowned at his sister, but she paid no mind.

Bungo caught a sneer on his other brother Longo's face.  Longo had always been jealous of him, and he had never liked Belladonna.

"At any rate, I just wanted to let all of you know where we would be.  I'm off to hire the Bush's pony-trap for the journey."

His mother rose and gave him an embrace.  "Well, I hope all of you have a pleasant visit.  Be sure to tuck Bilbo up warmly for the journey!  And give our regards to Thain Gerontius!"

Aunt Pansy sniffed, and Longo snorted.  Bungo ignored them, and returned his mother's hug.  "I will, Mama."

***

They made good time in the pony trap.  The Thain had seen to it that the potholes in the Post Road had been taken care of in the spring, and the weather of Forelithe was pleasant.  It was not quite summer yet, and it was clear and breezy.  Belladonna had packed a basket and they ate elevenses and luncheon as they drove along.  Bilbo was curious and enjoying the ride, pointing things out with a chubby finger and his all-purpose word of "Meh!"

They arrived in mid-afternoon, and their trap was met by one of the grooms.  Bungo took Bilbo and then reached up to hand Bella down.  The Great Doors opened, and suddenly they found themselves enveloped in Tooks.  Belladonna's  sisters Donnamira and Mirabella were hugging  her and both were talking all at once, her brother Hildibrand was pounding Bungo on the back, and Hildbrand's wife Myrtle was cooing over little Bilbo, even as she was holding her own babe. Then some of Belladonna's other older brothers came out, accompanied by nieces and nephews and there was even more chaos.

"Enough!"  The voice did not shout, but it was firm and cut through all the babble. Gerontius held a hand out to his daughter, and she went towards him.  

Suddenly she stopped as she looked past his shoulder.  Her eyes went wide, and filled with tears.  " 'Gar! Oh, Gar!"

She embraced her younger brother fiercely, tears running down her cheeks.  "Oh, 'Gar, we never thought we'd see you again!"

***

All the Thain's family were at the High Table that night, save for the younger grandchildren who were at the children's table, and the babes who were being watched in the nursery.  In addition to the immediate family, there was another guest, seated on a low stool at the Thain's right hand.  Bungo looked warily down the table at him: Gandalf the Wizard.  Bungo had never seen him before; usually he arrived just before Lithe and stayed only a few days.  Since their marriage Bella and Bungo had not been at the Great Smials over Lithe, instead accompanying Bungo's parents to the Fair in Michel Delving.  But it was a good three weeks until Lithe, and here he was.

Bungo had heard the stories.  How the wizard had helped the Shire during the Long Winter, and how he had befriended Gerontius in his youth.  He'd also heard stories that it was Gandalf's fault young Hildifons had vanished, and that he was also the reason Isengar had left.  Belladonna denied that, blaming Hildifons' disappearance on a disappointment in love, and Isengar's on youthful impulse.  And, Belladonna pointed out, it was Gandalf who had rescued her and her sister Mirabella from the Old Forest not long before she and Bungo were betrothed.  But he was so strange and frightening looking, so large and all that hair on his head and face!  Not to mention those dark and piercing eyes...

Bungo fervently hoped that he would not be required to make conversation with this alarming personage, who was at this very moment laughing at something the Old Took had said.

On one side, Belladonna was talking non-stop to her sister-in-law, Myrtle.  Myrtle and Hildibrand's son Sigismund was almost exactly a month older than little Bilbo, and the two mothers were comparing their children's accomplishments.  On the other side was Bella's younger sister Donnamira.  Donnamira had recently become betrothed to a Boffin, and the wedding was planned for the fall.  She was quite busy staring into her beloved's eyes.

Bereft of any conversation, he turned his full attention to the excellent food in front of him.  Whatever anyone might say of Tooks, no one could deny that they set a marvelous table!
What deliciously plump and juicy stuffed mushrooms! And the carrots and parsnips were roasted to perfection!

As the diners began to reach the filling up of corners stage, the Thain stood.  The room fell silent, and the Old Took raised his glass.  "A toast, to my youngest son Isengar, returned to the bosom of his family at last!"

There were loud cheers throughout the room, as glasses were raised.

Gerontius turned and looked at his guest.  "And to Gandalf the Grey, who found him and brought him back!"

More cheers, and more drinks!  Bungo sipped from his own glass, and thought that if he were a wayward tween, he certainly would not want to be dragged home by such an alarming personage-- unless it was that personage who spirited him away to begin with.

Belladonna had told him that as soon as the meal was over, they were expected in the library along with all the rest of the family, to discuss what to do about Isengar, because however glad his family was to have him back, there had to be at least a show of punishment for his running away in the first place.

Soon they were all gathered in the huge room: the Thain and Adamanta, all of the sons and daughters, and their wives and husbands. Everyone seemed to be talking at once. Bungo's hope had been to hide at the back of the room, and allow the blood kin to deal with the situation; but Bella had him by the hand and pulled him forward with her.  She went to stand by her brother, where Donnamira and Mirabella already stood around him, like vixens with a single kit.  The three sisters were united in their support of Isengar-- they had always spoiled the lad dreadfully.  Bungo noticed that Hildigrim had found that enviable spot near the back.  Hildigrim tended to keep his head down at family functions ever since he and Rosa had put the dessert before the main course and disgraced the family name. Bungo's cousin Rosa was clinging to her husband's arm looking subdued; he had a moment of fellow feeling for her. We Bagginses are out of place among all these Tooks, like sparrows in a flock of magpies, he thought.  

But the rest of the older brothers were all standing about shouting at their parents angrily, and calling for strict punishment for their prodigal brother.  Bungo was sure that part  of their anger was fueled by the still painful absence of Hildifons, who had been gone for over sixteen years now.

Once more the Thain silenced everyone, this time simply by rising from his chair.  Quiet descended over the room so quickly that for a brief instant Bungo thought he had been stricken deaf.  The Old Took turned to look at his youngest son.  "Isengar, come here."

Belladonna patted her little brother on the shoulder; Donnamira, who had been clinging to his arm released it reluctantly.  Mirabella tried to hold on to his other arm, but he drew it free, and went to his father's side.  All three of Gerontius' daughters turned a glare upon their father, who simply looked back at them with a raised eyebrow and a look of amusement.

Isengar stepped to his father's side.  He gave a nod of his head. "Father."

Gerontius swept the room with his eyes, locking in a brief gaze with his heir Isengrim, whose eyes glittered with anger.  Then he turned to Isengar, and his face softened briefly as he looked at his youngest son.  "Isengar, we are all happy to have you home again.  You were sorely missed, and we feared for you.  But you ran away, and you stayed away.  You grieved us all deeply."

Isengar hung his head; his face was red with shame.

Then the Thain looked around at the others again.  "Your mother and I have discussed the matter.  We cannot pretend this never happened, and so there must be some consequence..."

Belladonna opened her mouth to protest, but a look from her father made her snap it shut.  Her nostrils flared, and she drew in a deep breath.  Bungo held his own, hoping his wife would not make a scene.  She subsided, but he could tell she was unhappy.  She and her sisters would have much preferred the option of pretending it had never happened.

Gerontius continued as though the brief thought of rebellion had never occurred. "...but it will not be overly harsh just because of things that others have done in the past."

Now the Thain looked at his older sons.  Isengrim was not quelled, but spoke up.  "Father, you know that we must make a example, lest we have more Tooks running off like this!"

"Enough.  We have already settled the matter.  Isengar is not Hildifons, and should only be punished for his own offense, and not that of his brother as well."

Gerontius turned to Isengar once more.  "Son, you are yet to come of age.  It will be over a year and a half until you are thirty-three.  Until that time, you will go no further from the Great Smials than Tuckborough unless you are accompanied by an older member of the family.  In addition, Isembard has agreed that you will assist him with the accounts and the bookkeeping three days a week.  And you will resume your studies of Shire history with Isumbras.  Any violation of this, and you will become Isengrim's ward until you reach your majority."

He looked at the others again.  "This is my decision."

Adamanta stepped up to her husband's side.  "We are in full agreement on all of this, by the way, so I do not expect any of you to come and ask me to persuade your father otherwise."

The family began to stir, and conversation began again.  Gerontius and Adamanta led Isengar out of the room.

Bungo thought this was a very wise and well-thought out punishment, but clearly Bella did not agree.  

"He's home!" she said angrily.  "That should be enough for anyone!"

"And why should it be?" snapped Isembold.  "He ran away!  He left us to wonder if he was alive or not!"

"He wrote to us!" shouted Mirabella.  "We knew he was alive!"

"He wrote to you!  Once!"

Bungo felt himself shrinking into himself.  All of this sound and fury!  It was disconcerting to say the least.  He wished himself out of it all.  "Bella, dear?"

She jumped as though she had forgotten he was there, but turned to look at him.

"Should we not go and check on Bilbo?"

It was the one perfect thing he could have said; reminded of her child, Belladonna was eager to see how he fared.  They left the room, and headed back to the nursery.

***

Belladonna looked at her husband in frustration.  They were at second breakfast with most of the rest of the family, and Bungo was giving silent attention to his plate, while all around him the conversation swirled.  He wasn't like this at home; in Hobbiton, as his father's heir he was considered a leader in the town.  He never seemed to mind making his opinion known, and he certainly held his own in disagreements with his brother Longo, though she had to admit that the Bagginses were seldom as noisy as the Tooks.

But when they came to the Great Smials and he was confronted with all of her brothers and sisters and their families, he withdrew into a silent shell.  She knew her older brothers were somewhat scornful of him.  "He wouldn't say 'boo' to a goose!" Isembard had once scornfully declared, and sadly, going by Bungo's behaviour around her family she could not really deny it.

She was distracted by the child on her lap.  "Meh!" said Bilbo, giving a flounce, and reaching one hand to her plate, from which she had been feeding him tidbits.  She handed him a rusk of bread.  "Meh!" This was accompanied by a grin, and a little drool, as he delightedly gnawed on this treat.

As the little family headed back to their own room afterwards, she could not seem to help herself.  "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Say anything?" Bungo looked puzzled.

"You did not speak a word during breakfast!"

Bungo opened his mouth to deny it, but then changed his mind.  Come to think of it, she was right-- he had not even said "pass the salt"!  Instead, he shrugged.  "I did not have anything to say, I suppose."

"And last night-- why didn't you say anything to Father when he was condemning poor 'Gar to being cooped up like a prisoner for almost two years!"

Bungo blinked.  That was not at all what Gerontius had done!  And he supposed it would be tactless right now to tell her that he thought her father was right.  The Old Took was very wise, and staying home and doing a little work was not going to harm Isengar.

"He'll be able to go to Tuckborough," he said instead.

Belladonna snorted.  "Tuckborough!" Then she said in a sad little voice, "I had hoped he'd come and visit us in Bag End!"

"Perhaps he still might-- " Bungo began.

She gave him a look that told him she thought he was being too reasonable.  "You are impossible!" she snapped, and she suddenly began to walk swiftly in the other direction with little Bilbo in her arms.

Chapter 3: Encounter, Part Two

Bella was suddenly filled with the urge to walk, and to get some fresh air, and to put some distance between her and her frustratingly nice husband.  Why won't he just argue with me once in a while? she thought.   A good row never hurt anything; it clears the air!  She steadfastly  ignored the little tiny voice that sounded like her mother telling her that all a row brought was noise and hot air and usually hurt feelings and tears.

She went out a small side door to the South Garden, and then kept on walking past the stables and the small cherry orchard, and across the road towards the assembly field.  Preparations were already going on for the Midsummer celebrations that would be taking place there in a few weeks time.  She saw Gandalf, who seemed to be measuring his paces and muttering to himself, he glanced up and smiled at her.  Normally she would have stopped to pass the time of day with the old wizard; they were friends of old, after all.  But he was very astute, and she did not wish him to probe her in her current mood.  She gave him a wave and kept walking to the southeast.

Instead she began to converse with her small son, who was looking about with interest.  "Do you know where we are going, Bilbo-my-lad?  We are going to find some trees!  Yes, we are!"  

Seeing Gandalf had reminded her of the time when she had been no more than fifteen, a wild little hoyden who often ran about in lads' breeches.  There was a wood not far from the Great Smials, a small one, no more than about two miles long and no wider than a couple of furlongs.  It consisted of copper beeches.  She often would go there to play and to get away from overbearing big brothers.

She was pretending to be a Tookish archer, marching to the rescue of the long-ago King when she heard an odd whistling noise overhead, followed by a crashing thud among the upper branches of the tree under which she was walking.  A few leaves rained down upon her head as she gazed upwards, trying in vain to see what might be up there.

"Bless my beard!" said a loud voice behind her.  She turned to see her father's friend Gandalf the Grey standing there, also looking up into the tree, his shaggy eyebrows drawn together in a perplexed expression.

She turned and looked up at him, not at all cowed.  The Took children knew Gandalf as an amiable old fellow who would tell lovely stories, made beautiful fireworks that rained down in splendour on summer nights, and could be quite generous with the squibs and crackers. They were not at all intimidated by his size.

"What was that, Gandalf?" she asked.

"One of my rockets!  I was experimenting with a new kind of rocket, and this one went astray! It should not be left up there-- I need to examine it to find out what went wrong."  He looked at her with a twinkle in his dark eyes.  "You don't suppose..."

She gave him a grin.  "Would you boost me up to the first limb?"

He chuckled, and lifted her up to the lowest branch.  Soon she was scrambling upwards, nimble as a squirrel.  It wasn't the first tree she'd ever climbed, but she had never climbed quite so high before.  Soon she could reach the rocket-- the tube was bent, and it smelled of sulfur.  She reached out and plucked it loose from between two smaller branches, and then looked at it dubiously.  It was too large to hold between her teeth.

"Drop it down to me!"

She nodded, and reached out to drop it so that it would not catch on any other branches on the way down.  It did bounce off some of the smaller twigs, but made its way mostly unencumbered to the ground.

"Be careful coming down!" the wizard called.  

She climbed down much more carefully.  Down was, for some reason, scarier than up.  Then she reached the lowest limb, and Gandalf reached up and plucked her down.

"Thank you, my dear!  Goodness, you are quite an adventurous little Took!"

Her heart had swelled with pride to be called an "adventurous Took", most especially since he had not added "for a lass".

He took the rocket in one arm and with his other hand took one of hers, and they strolled back to the Great Smials.  "I shall have to confess to your mother that I persuaded you to climb a tree," he warned.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because it is the right thing to do, you know.  I must not abuse your parents' hospitality!"

"Oh!" Of course that was true. The rules of hospitality were very strict.

She needn't have worried.  Adamanta took it all in stride, though it rather scandalized her sister Citrine who was visiting the Great Smials.

"Imagine!" she had snorted "He is too old to be setting young girls on such mad adventures!"

Adamanta had laughed heartily at this.  "You have no idea just how old Gandalf is, sister!  And I scarcely think climbing a tree is a 'mad adventure'!"

Of course, there had also been the time the wizard had rescued her and Mirabella from the Old Forest...she really could not remember that at all well...

The pleasant walk and the dappled shade and the whisper of the trees calmed her mood, and as she usually did, she began to see how ridiculous she had been.  Did she really want her sweet Bungo to act like her bossy and temperamental older brothers? Of course not!  It was his very level-headedness and willingness to look at all sides of a thing that she admired about him.

But he was going to have to get over being intimidated by Tooks at some point. It made visits here uncomfortable for him.  She loved her family and wanted to spend time with them, but it made her very cross to see her dear Bungo withdraw into himself every time he came here.

Still he was not at all intimidated by the most important of the Tooks!  Her father liked Bungo very much, and she had a sneaking feeling that he'd take Bungo's side in any dispute!

Bilbo was becoming restless in her arms, and she paused briefly to draw her bodice down so she could nurse him, covering them both with his blanket over her shoulder.  "There my lad!  I am sure that's much better!  But Mama is getting hungry, too!"  From the hollow feeling in her middle, Belladonna thought she had missed not only elevenses, but by the time she got back, luncheon as well!  She stopped, and leaning against one of the trees, she burped her son and did up her bodice.  He blinked at her sleepily, and she smiled and felt her heart turn over with love.  Such a wonderful son!

But, oh, she was hungry!  She started back at a much less leisurely pace than she had taken coming this far.  Perhaps that was why she tripped against an upthrust tree root.  Trying to protect her baby, she turned as she fell.  

Bilbo began to cry.  “There, there, my little lad,” she sniffed.  “Mama just tripped over the nasty roots.  It’s all right, Bilbo dear.”  She held him close, and with an elbow braced herself on one of the roots and tried to rise, only to sit back down abruptly with a cry of pain.  Startled, Bilbo began to wail in earnest.  “Shush, my child! We don’t want a nasty old fox to hear us.”  Belladonna suddenly felt terrified, not only for herself, but for the baby.  “Mama’s turned her ankle, that’s all…”

***

Bungo was more than a little worried.  He had been sure she would show up for luncheon, but when she did not, his questions were dismissed.  

"Oh, I wouldn't worry if I were you, Bungo!" said Donnamira.  "I am sure she's just taking her lunch elsewhere in the Smials!"

He could not deny that possibility.  Many Tooks had some of their meals in their own quarters, for most of the apartments had their own small kitchens; others took them in the main dining hall.  But so far, questions to those who might have been likely to host his wife for lunch had not seen her.

Well, he had last seen her heading outdoors, so he supposed that's where he ought to begin looking for her.  He could not help a little feeling deep in his heart that something was wrong-- something more than just her anger at him.

He walked past the stables and the cherry orchard, and noticed that Gandalf the Grey was in the middle of the assembly field.  If his wife had gone that way, perhaps he would have seen her.

The wizard had planted one end of his staff in the ground, and appeared to be absorbed in measuring its shadow.

"Ahem...Er--uhm..."  Bungo cleared his throat.

Gandalf turned to face him.  Bungo did not dare come closer to this large person.  But he needed to know.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Baggins."  The voice was deeper and louder than a hobbit voice, but it was cordial all the same.

“Er, well, yes. G-good afternoon.  Have--have you seen my wife, Mistress Belladonna, pass this way?  She had our son with her…”

Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow.  “As a matter of fact, I did see them earlier, walking towards the East.  But that was some hours ago, before luncheon.  Has she not returned?”

“Oh dear! Oh dear!” Bungo said, “She wasn’t at luncheon, and no one in the smials has seen her since second breakfast!  She--uh, she--wasn’t happy with me this morning…”

"I see."  Gandalf took his staff from the ground, and said, "Well, then, why don't I help you look for her?  I can show you which way she went."

***

Gildor looked up through the trees.  They had stopped for the day, and would continue their journey beneath the stars, for they had come to the end of this small forest, and if they were to keep their presence from becoming generally known by the small inhabitants of this land, they would need to wait until the cover of night.  Once they had left this wooded area, they would be travelling over more settled lands--tilled fields and bare hills.  But at night, there would be none to mark their passage, save perhaps a wakeful shepherd or two, who would scarce believe their own eyes.

He wondered if this would be the time he himself would take ship and return to the West.  He had led many to Mithlond, each time thinking that he too, would sail.  Yet each time, as he stood upon the quay, his heart would tell him “not yet, not yet; you have still some task to fulfill ere you may depart these Shores and cross the Sea to Elvenhome.”  Suddenly, he was startled from his reverie by a sharp cry of distress. It was not one of his people--that was not the voice of an Elf, and it came from ahead of him and not behind. Swiftly, though cautiously, he made his way in the direction of the sound.

As he came nearer, he heard a soft weeping, and in addition to the weeping, another whimper.  There, near the gnarled roots of an old oak was one of the periain--apparently a young mother, for she held a whimpering babe close to her heart, and was rocking it back and forth, trying to soothe the child, even through her own tears.

“There, there, my little lad,” she sniffed.  “Mama just tripped over the nasty roots.  It’s all right, Bilbo dear.”  She held the child close, and with an elbow braced herself on one of the roots and tried to rise, only to sit back down abruptly with a cry of pain.  Startled the babe began to wail in earnest.  “Shush, my child!”  the young mother said.  “We don’t want a nasty old fox to hear us.”  She looked about her, eyes wide with fear. “Mama’s turned her ankle, that’s all…”

Keeping the presence of Elves a secret was all well and good, but Gildor could not simply stand by and leave her thus.  While it was unlikely any predators would be close now with Elves nearby, she had no way to know of that unseen protection.  And she and the child were far from the help of any others of her kind.  Silently he stepped forward, keeping his hands wide and trying to appear unthreatening.

“Small Mistress,” he said, as softly as he could, “may I be of some assistance to you?”

She looked up in alarm, but did not make a sound as her jaw dropped.  She stared, her green eyes huge, and she clutched the child even closer.  Finally, she swallowed. “You’re an Elf,” she rasped.

“Gildor Inglorion, of the House of Finrod,” he said, bowing slightly, and cautiously moving closer.

She did not flinch, though she did tense up. “I am Belladonna Baggins, at your service, Master Gildor,” she said shakily, but with the ingrained courtesy of her people. “This is my son Bilbo.  I am afraid that I stumbled and turned my ankle.”

Gildor nodded, and knelt down by her.  “May I?” he asked.  He reached out very slowly, and took her right foot in his hand.  It was, of course, unshod.  He prodded it gently, and she winced and bit her lip.  The baby in her arms twisted around to look at this new person.

“Meh!” he said, his blue eyes huge.  Gildor studied him.  He was a comely child, with a riot of brown curls and an amiable and intelligent expression. He gave the Elf a grin, and Gildor found himself grinning back.

Returning his attention to the perian’s ankle, he saw that it was already swollen.  She would not be able to walk upon it for some time.

Before he could say anything to her about it, there was an alarming rumble from her mid-section, and she blushed.  “I-I’m sorry--I’m afraid I’ve missed elevenses, and it must be nigh on to luncheon.”

Gildor sat back on his haunches.  “My people are encamped a very short distance from here.  Perhaps you could take a meal with us.  We have also a healer, who could bind up your ankle for you, and then we could send a message to your people--”

She stared at him for a moment, as if uncertain, and then nodded.

The Elf reached out to the child, who trustingly came to him.  He settled the babe on his left arm, and then with his right, picked up the mother.  She gasped a bit as he stood up, and gripped him about the neck.

It took Gildor only a few moments to stride back to the place where his people were encamped, and they looked up in shock to see their leader carrying the perian and her child.

He turned and spoke.  “Lomiel,” he called, and an Elven-woman with raven hair stood up and came over.

Gildor looked down at Belladonna.  “Mistress Baggins, this is Lomiel.  She will tend your injury, and then perhaps, we shall see to finding you a meal?”

“Thank you--” she looked at him uncertainly, “what about Bilbo?”

He smiled at her.  “I think that you may safely leave him with me for a few moments.”

She nodded, and allowed Lomiel to carry her away a short distance.

Bilbo watched his mother, an expression of curiosity on his small face.  He glanced up at the Elf who still held him. “Ma-ma?” he trilled.

Gildor chuckled.  “Your naneth will be just fine.  In the meantime, shall we see if we can find something for you?”

The other Elves had begun to gather about Gildor, marveling at the tiny child, who was so small that he easily fit into Gildor’s two hands.  Bilbo looked about him, with an expression of delighted wonder, and when one silver-haired Elf leaned over him, he reached up a chubby hand to pull on one of the locks.  The Elf laughed, and then the child laughed too.

Soon the Elves were all seated around, and had provided Bilbo with a rusk of bread to chew on.  If he had been smiling before, he was positively gleeful now.  Never had he tasted anything like it.

Lomiel carried Belladonna over to the rest, her foot now snugly wrapped in a bandage, and Bella took little Bilbo into her own lap once more.  Soon she was provided with bread, fruit, cheese, and a fragrant golden draught.  She listened in amazement, as the Elves began to sing.  Little Bilbo tried to sing along as well in his wordless fashion.

Gildor watched over the small group, and then slipped away. Time was passing, and the family of the little wanderers would probably be searching for them frantically.  If he could find a sign of searchers, he would take her back to them, but he would prefer not to have to go into the settled areas to do so.

He had nearly reached the spot where he had first found her, when he heard the sounds of someone approaching.

“Dear me,” said one voice, clearly that of a perian, “I am so worried.  We’ve not seen any sign of her since that oak tree.  This is all my fault.  If I had not made her cross with me over my timidity with her family--”

“Do not fret, Mr. Baggins,” came the other voice  “I am sure we shall soon find her.”  Gildor knew that voice--it was Mithrandir!

The Elf stepped forth.  “Are you searching for Belladonna Baggins and her child?” he asked.

Bungo gasped, and stepped behind the wizard, who chuckled and put a reassuring hand on the curly head.  “Well met, Gildor Inglorion!  I take it you have found our strays?”

“Yes, we have both mother and child safe with us.”  He glanced down at the perian who had cautiously moved forward.  “Your wife has sprained her ankle.  But our healer is tending to it, and she and your child have been fed!”

“Oh! Oh thank you!  But--but I am forgetting my manners!  I am Bungo Baggins, at your service!” and he made a courteous bow.

“You are most welcome, Master Bungo.  If you and Mithrandir will follow me, I shall take you to your family.”

A short while later, Gildor led them into the clearing, and with a sharp cry, Bungo darted over to his wife and took her into an embrace, baby and all.  The Elves and wizard kindly pretended not to notice the tearful apologies from both parties.  After a few moments, Bungo stood back up.  “I do not know how to thank you, Master Gildor!  I was so worried!”

“No thanks are needed, Master Baggins; we have much enjoyed the company of your wife and child.”

It was soon arranged that Gandalf would carry Belladonna, as she was not to walk upon her ankle for some days, as Lomiel told her firmly.  “Be certain to seek the advice of a healer of your own people before removing the bandage,” the Elf-woman reminded her.

Belladonna nodded, and impulsively kissed the healer on her cheek.  “Thank you, Lomiel,” she said, as Gandalf scooped her up into his strong arms.

Little Bilbo was in his father’s arms.  He looked up and laughed “Pa-pa!”  Bungo hugged him tightly.

Gildor knelt down.  “Master Baggins, may I say farewell to your remarkable son?”

Bungo handed Bilbo to the Elf, who took him carefully.  Big blue eyes gazed up at him solemnly.

For some reason, Gildor had the feeling he had not seen the last of this one.  Leaning his face down, and not flinching as the tiny fingers wound into his hair, he murmured “No e beren, ar garo i dhôl vell na nauthad, ar i ind vell na velad, ar i gaim vell na gared naid, ar i dail vell na drevaded, ar lúban tolo beriannen na mar în,*” and bestowed a kiss upon the little brow.  Then he handed the child back to his father.

Mithrandir looked at him.  “That was quite a blessing you bestowed upon this child,” he said in Sindarin.

“My heart tells me that perhaps this little one will need it someday,” was the bemused response.

Gildor watched as their unexpected guests left the clearing.  No, he did not think he would be taking ship this time, either.

***
Belladonna found being carried by Gandalf to be remarkably comfortable.  In spite of her injury, she felt much happier.  Bungo had easily forgiven her for her ridiculous anger, she had eaten, and she had met Elves!  As a child she had always wanted to meet an Elf one day, and now she had met several!  She gave a sigh of contentment.

But something puzzled her.  "Gandalf?"

"Yes, Belladonna?"

"What did he say to Bilbo?  The Elf, when he spoke to my son, what he said was not merely 'farewell'."

Gandalf was silent for a moment, and then bent his head slightly and murmured "'May he be brave, and have the strong head to think with, and the strong heart to love with, and the strong hands to work with, and the strong feet to travel with, and always come safe home to his own.' "*

What a remarkable thing! Belladonna thought.  It was a little alarming, as though the Elf knew something about her child's fate, that he would need such a blessing...

__________________

*Quotation from  Five Children And It by Edith Nesbit, assigned as a challenge element.

AUTHOR'S END NOTES:  One section of this story, the part in Gildor's point-of-view, was quoted from a previous story "Eucatastrophe: The Return", a very small section of one chapter in that story.  (While the story itself is AU, the flashback provided in Chapter 7 is part of my own fanon backstory for Bilbo.) The "blessing" was a quotation assigned as part of a challenge element, and the Sindarin translation is courtesy of the kind and talented Ithildin, as I have no skills myself in Sindarin, or in any other Elven language.  Here is a link to how she did the translation: Ithildin's Notes on Translation.

 Chapter 4: Turning Three

Halimath, S.R. 1293

"Do you really mean it?" asked Bingo with a grin.

"We do indeed, little brother," said Bungo.  Belladonna, who was holding her husband's hand, nodded.

"Are you sure you don't want one of your Took kin, Bella?"

She shook her head and smiled at her youngest brother-in-law.  "I am quite sure.  Bilbo is very fond of you, Bingo!  And I want him to celebrate his faunthood here at Bag End, not at the Great Smials."  She picked up a plate and handed it over to him. "Now, have another bilberry scone.  Do you want some more tea?"

***

Bingo set down the Hill for Greenbriars whistling jauntily!  How wonderful that he had been asked to escort little Bilbo on his first present-finding expedition as a faunt.  The honor often went to older siblings or cousins, but Bilbo was an only child, and he had no Baggins cousins of an appropriate age.  At twenty-nine Bingo was old enough to be responsible for the little one, but young enough to not mind trekking about in the early morning following the whims of a three-year-old.

Of course, the parents could not do it; otherwise the child's little offerings would not be a surprise!

Mungo and Laura were thrilled with Bingo's news.  "What fun that will be for both of you, son," his father said.  

His sister Linda sighed. "If only they would have a lass! Then perhaps I would get the chance to do that someday."

"Cheer up, sissy," Bingo said. "I am sure that there's time for that!"

"We had word of Longo in the post today," said his mother.

"He sent a letter?" Bingo asked.

"No." Mungo's voice was flat.  "The letter was from Mr. Sackville, telling us that Longo had arrived and was settling into his job."  Longo had received the offer of a position from Cosimo Sackville, a prominent leaf-grower in the Southfarthing right after he had come of age that summer.  The Sackville factor was growing older, and Longo was to act as the factor's assistant, with the idea that he was being groomed to take over when the older hobbit decided to retire from the position.

"Oh." Bingo was not surprised that his brother had not written.  He probably would, eventually-- but not until he had something to boast about. Longo was rather more ambitious than was seemly for a hobbit.

"So," said Laura, in an effort to change the subject, "tell me of the plans for little Bilbo's birthday next week..."

***

A little hobbit's third birthday is a momentous occasion: it is when the little one leaves off being an infant and becomes a faunt, who can walk about and who has begun to talk and communicate.  Faunthood lasts for two years, until childhood begins on the fifth birthday.  But it is on the third birthday that the faunt begins to be schooled in one of the most important lessons of life for a hobbit: that giving is more important than receiving.  Among hobbits the giving of gifts is a tradition wrapped about with rules and ceremonies, most especially birthday gifts, which are both given and received.

For a faunt that third birthday is an introduction to the giving of birthday gifts.  Early on the little byrding's day the child will be taken by a beloved older relative or friend to find gifts; these very often were flowers, or a pretty stone, or some other object that took the child's eye.  These first gifts are then presented to the parents, a cherished moment-- many a fond mother kept the often bedraggled blooms and pressed them in the pages of a book.

Bingo knew he had a big responsibility; he had to make sure that Bilbo had fun finding the gifts, so that he would think of giving as a pleasant thing, but he also needed to guide his nephew into choosing things that would not be unsuitable.  While a three-year-old might find a frog fascinating his mother most assuredly would not be pleased.  But most of all, Bilbo should have that feeling of joy that comes from making someone else happy, so that he would want to do it again and again.

The twenty-second of Halimath dawned clear and pleasant, and Bingo rose very early.  He was to go up the hill and take first breakfast at Bag End, so that immediately afterwards he and Bilbo could go out to gather the gifts.

Belladonna answered the door, and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.  "Good morning, Bingo!  I am so glad you are going to do this for Bilbo."

She led him into Bag End's cosy kitchen, where he was greeted by the wonderful smells of first breakfast:  there were griddlecakes and sausages and bacon and eggs scrambled with mushrooms and fried potatoes and they were all accompanied by a pot of fresh tea, a jug of fruit juice, honey, fresh butter and strawberry jam.  Bilbo was no longer seated in his high chair.  Instead he was on one of the regular chairs, boosted to table height by a sturdy boxlike seat fastened to the chair by a leather strap.

"Unca Bingo!" Bilbo crowed.  "I'm big now!  I'm t'ree!"

He grinned as Bilbo punctuated his statement with a large bite of sausage.  "So I see!  You are not in your baby chair anymore!"

Bilbo chewed and swallowed.  "I'm a faunt now! I'm not a baby now!"

Bingo took a seat between his nephew and his brother as Belladonna sat a plateful of food before him.  As Bilbo occupied himself with eating, Bingo did the same, adding butter and honey to his griddlecakes.  Then he took up a forkful of eggs and mushrooms-- ah! delectable!  Whatever Longo might say about Tooks, Belladonna was an excellent cook, and at this moment Bingo was very glad that she was his sister-in-law.

Bella sat down with her own plate now, and there was a brief silence at the table as all four hobbits concentrated on their food.  Bilbo finished first and looked at his little plate with the painting of ducklings around the rim.  "Mama!  More p'ease?"

"More of what, Bilbo-lad?  Do you want eggs or potatoes or griddlecakes or sausage?"

"Yes, p'ease, Mama!" he grinned. "More everyt'ing!"

"I'll get it, my dear," said Bungo.  "I've quite finished, and you have not."  He rose and took the child-sized plate to the sideboard to fill it up once more; then he placed it in front of his son.

"T'ank you, Papa!"

When the meal was finished, Belladonna took Bilbo to clean him up while Bingo helped his brother with the washing up.  He washed the plates and handed them to Bungo for drying.  

"Well, little brother, are you ready for this?  I warn you, he may run you ragged!"

"Of course I am!  We'll make a game of it all!"  Bingo grinned and splashed some of the dishwater in his brother's direction.  Bungo retaliated with a snap of the dish towel, and soon they were having a brotherly tussle, until they heard the "A-hem!" clearing of a feminine throat.  Belladonna stood in the door looking amused.  She had Bilbo by the hand, and his eyes were enormous as he watched his father and uncle.

Bingo knelt down.  "Well, Bilbo-lad, are you ready to go and find presents?"

Bilbo gave a little shriek of delight, and rushed into his uncle's arms.  "We will see you in a little while," Bingo said as he stood up with Bilbo in his arms.  

Bilbo looked back over Bungo's shoulder and waved.  " 'Bye, Mama!  'Bye, Papa!"

***

Once out the front door of Bag End into the crisp autumn air,  and down the front steps, Bingo set his nephew down and watched him carefully.  If the lad decided to pick his flowers from the herbaceaous border along the flagged front path, their expedition would be a short one.  But Bilbo had no interest in flowers that he saw every day of his short life.  Instead he pelted on his chubby legs down the path to the gate.  "Come on, Unca Bingo!" he called impatiently.

Bingo went down and took the child's hand before opening the gate.  "Please stay next to me while we are on the road, Bilbo.  We'll play a game, and perhaps it will help you to find your presents."

Bilbo looked up and nodded.  "I will!"

Bingo dropped the little hand and began to stroll, Bilbo trotting along at his side.  "Here is the game, Bilbo.  I will see something and tell you about it.  Then you tell me what you think it is."

His nephew nodded and gazed up at him seriously.  "BIlbo, I see something tall and shady. What is it?"

Bilbo stopped and pointed at the side of the road.  "A t'ee!" he laughed.  "Did I get it right?"

"You most certainly did.  I see something fluffy and white.  What is it?"

Bilbo looked all around, and then gazed up at his uncle, who was staring at the sky.  "Oh!" he exclaimed, and looked up.  "A c'oud!"

"RIght again!"  They played for a while as they walked, Bingo deliberately choosing parts of the landscape that could not be picked up for Bilbo to give as gifts.  He wanted them to take their time in searching, so he "saw" a gate, a pony in a neighbour's field and a pond.  Then he said, "I see something small and round.  What is it?"  He had an eye on a small white stone by the side of the road.

Bilbo seemed briefly stumped.  He looked all around, but never once in the direction of the little stone.  "I know, Unca Bingo!"  He pointed over to the side of the road, just the other side of a wooden fence.  "A apple!" He looked up at his uncle.  "I want a apple for Papa!  Papa likes apples!"  Sure enough, there stood a lonely apple tree laden with pippins.

Bingo nodded. The field belonged to Farmer Button, but he knew that the old fellow would not begrudge a three-year-old byrding an apple for his Papa.  Bingo lifted Bilbo over the fence and then clambered over after him.  They walked up to the tree, and Bingo lifted Bilbo up over his head so the lad could pluck one of the little apples.

"Papa will like this one," Bilbo said, examining it critically.

"Shall I carry it for you in my pocket until we get back to Bag End?" Bingo asked.  At Bilbo's nod, he dropped it into his jacket pocket and they continued their walk cross-country.  The game was now forgotten as Bilbo looked seriously to find a gift for his mother.

Suddenly he gave a little shout.  "Mush'ooms!" he pointed.  "I want a mush'oom for Mama!"

They went over to where Bilbo had seen the mushroom, but Bingo held him back.  "No, Bilbo. Not that mushroom!  That's a bad kind of mushroom; it would make your mama sick."

"Oh."  Bilbo drooped forlornly.  "I don't want a bad mush'oom."

"We'll find something else. Don't worry."  

Soon they came near a small copse of maple trees, already nearly bare of their golden autumn foliage, which littered the ground.  Bilbo darted over and began to pick them up, one at a time, examining each one closely for its appearance and discarding each as it failed to meet his exacting standards.  Finally he held one up.  "Dis one, Unca Bingo! Mama will like this one!"  

Bingo grinned.  "Indeed she will, Bilbo-lad!  That's a beautiful leaf!"  He admired it-- it truly was lovely: huge, perfectly symmetrical, a deep red around the edges fading to a brilliant golden colour in the centre, it was not yet brittle.  Bingo was quite sure that Bilbo's mother would be very pleased with his tribute.  

"I'm tired, Unca Bingo."  

They had traipsed quite a distance from Bag End; it was a long trek for a three-year-old.  Bingo added the leaf to the apple in his pocket, and picked Bilbo up.  "We'll go back now.  And you can give your presents to your Mama and Papa."

Bilbo fell asleep on the way, and Bingo sighed as he felt the drool on his shoulder.  But he was happy.  He felt successful in having guided his little nephew through this rite-of-passage.  Now all that remained was for Bilbo to give his gifts.

Bingo stopped as they reached the gate to Bag End.  "Wake up, Bilbo!"

Bilbo looked up at him blearily for a moment, and wiped his eyes with his fingers.  Bingo set him down.  "We are back home, lad." He took the apple and the leaf from his pocket and handed them to the child, who smiled up at him.  

"T'ank you, Unca Bingo."  

Belladonna and Bungo were waiting patiently in the front room, sitting together on the settee by the hearth.  Bingo stood in the doorway while little Bilbo ran in to their embrace and watched the scene unfold before him.

"Papa!  I got you a apple!"

Bungo took it, and grinned.  "Thank you, Bilbo!  If you don't mind, I won't eat it yet!  I will wait until after luncheon, so I can show it to your grandparents when they come to eat with us."

"Dat's all right, Papa!"

He turned to his mother, and held up the leaf.  "Do you like it, Mama?"

"Oh Bilbo!"  Tears sparked in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mama, don't cry!  Don't you like it?"

She gathered him up in her arms.  "I like it very, very much indeed! I am crying because I am very, very happy!"

Bilbo turned a puzzled expression to his father.  "It's true, Bilbo.  Sometimes mothers do cry because they are happy."

Bilbo returned his mother's squeeze, and added a little kiss on her cheek.  "Unca Bingo he'ped me find it.  He's a good p'esent finder!"

All three turned to grin at Bingo, who found himself flushed with pleasure.  It had been a very gratifying morning.  "So," he said, "what does a lad have to do around here to get some second breakfast?"

***

A/N: Most of the traditions I have incorporated into the fanon of "my" Shire-universe have been extrapolated from one of Tolkien's letters.  Letter #214 addresses a number of Shire customs and traditions.

" 'Birthdays' had a considerable social importance. A person celebrating his/her birthday was called a ribadyan (which may be rendered according to the system described and adopted a byrding). The customs connected to birhdays had, though deeply rooted, become regulated by fairly strict etiquette; and so in consequence were in many cases reduced to formalities..."

"With regard to presents: on his birthday the 'byrding' both gave and received presents; but the processes were different in origin, function and etiquette..."

:"Giving gifts: was a personal matter, not limited to kinship. It was a form of 'thanksgiving', and taken as a recognition of services, benefits, and friendship shown, especially in the past year

It may be noted that Hobbits, as soon as they became 'faunts' (that is talkers and walkers: formally taken to be on their third birthday-anniversary) gave presents to their parents.  These were supposed to be things 'produced' by the giver (that is found, grown, or made by the 'byrding'), beginning in small children with bunches of wild flowers..."

As you can see the groundwork has been done for me by the Professor.  I've added in some logical formalities and details.  If a three-year-old is going to go out and gather wild flowers he or she must be supervised, and by someone other than the intended recipient (the parents).  In my Shire, a suitable older relative is found to do this duty.

The fact that a good deal of emphasis is placed on the 'thanksgiving' aspect of gift-giving, and that a display of gifts is considered poor taste (something mentioned further along in the letter) has led me to feel that in Shire society generosity and a spirit of giving are considered prime virtues, and that "It is better to give than receive" would be a value that Shire parents would seek to instill in their children.

At this time Bingo in his late tweens is about the equivalent of an 18-year-old Man, and Bilbo at 3 is just about the same as a 2-year-old Man-child.

(A/N: The last portion of this chapter contains material quoted from my story "Learning Curve".)

Chapter 5: Lessons

Astron, S.R. 1298

"...eleventy-five, eleventy-six, eleventy-seven, eleventy-eight, eleventy-nine, twelfty!"

Belladonna laughed.  "Well, some people still say 'twelfty' but most people say 'one hundred twenty'."  Only the most elderly of her relatives used that term, and a few rustics.

"Why?" asked Bilbo.

"I think," said his mother casting about rapidly in her mind for a possible answer, "perhaps it is because 'twelfty' is harder to say than 'eleventy'."

"Oh." He thought for a moment and then nodded. "I think so, too, Mama. 'Twelfty-one is not so hard, but 'twelfty-two' is.  And 'twelfty-three' just sounds silly!" Bilbo giggled.

Belladonna laughed and hugged him. "I am glad you agree with me!"

"May we read now, Mama?"

"Fetch the book."

Bilbo brought her the book; it was large but rather flat, for it had not many pages.  The words were large and clear, and the pages were decorated with charming watercolor illustrations.

He clambered into her lap, and opened it to the place where a small blue ribbon marked the page.

"Go ahead," said his mother.

"Ten little ducks were swimming in a pond.
One flew away and then he was gone..." Bilbo stopped and looked up.  "Mama, why doesn't it say 'goned'?"

"Because 'goned' is not a word, Bilbo."

"But it sounds better with 'pond'!"

"Read some more, Bilbo," his mother said, trying very hard not to laugh.

"Nine little ducks were wahdling...no...waddling down the lane..." he looked up at his mother to see if he had it right.  She nodded.

"...waddling down the lane.
One wand-er-ed, wandered, off when someone called his name."  Bilbo stopped and frowned again. "Mama, 'lane' and 'name' are not the same sound at the end!"

"No, they are not. But they are very close."

Bilbo sighed, and frowned, as if 'very close' was not at all good enough. "Eight little ducks, flying in the sky. One turned around and said 'good-bye'.  Seven little ducks..."

Belladonna relaxed as Bilbo continued reading without, apparently, finding anything else to question or find fault with in the story.  It was time to have a word with her husband.

Later that night after Bilbo was abed, and Belladonna and Bungo were sitting by the hearth in the front room, Bella put aside her knitting.  "Bungo, I think it is time that you take over Bilbo's lessons."

"Really, dear?  He is not yet eight.  Isn't he rather young for more advanced lessons?"

"Perhaps. But he is counting well, and he is reading very well, and he is full of questions!  His curiosity is endless, and it takes quite a while to finish a reading lesson when he has a question about every other word!"

Bungo laughed.  "Well, that shows his Tookish side, my dear!  I am sure you were just as questionsome as a lass!"

"What a word, Bungo! 'Questionsome'! Where did you come up with it?"

"There, see, you prove my point.  You are still 'questionsome'!"

"And you have yet to say if you will take on Bilbo's lessons," she said, refusing to be distracted.

"Dear, I do not normally take a child on until he or she is at least in the teens." Bungo was family tutor for the Bagginses and some of their connexions.  "But they are cousins.  Bilbo is my own son, so I think I may be forgiven if I break precedent with him.  One thing concerns me, though.  How is his penmanship?  My own is less than stellar, and that is one skill I do not teach well."

"His writing is quite shaky still; he has scarcely mastered using chalk on a slate, and using a pen is yet a trial for him.  But if you like, I can continue with those lessons, if you will take over his sums and his reading."

"We have a bargain, my dear!  Shall we seal it with a kiss?" He grinned at her.

She chuckled. "A kiss and more, if you are quite ready to retire."  Now that she had her way she was more than willing to be distracted.

The next morning after second breakfast, Belladonna and Bungo informed Bilbo of the new order of things.

"You will still come with me, Bilbo, to practice your writing before elevenses every other morning. But after elevenses on Trewsdays and Mersdays, you will go to Papa to work on your sums and to read."  Bilbo's parents had agreed that he was still too young for more intense lessons, and Bungo still had his responsibilities to his other pupils.  Right now they consisted of his cousin Petunia who came to him after elevenses on Monday, Hensday and Highday, and his cousin Porro who had his lessons between elevenses and luncheon on Trewsday and Mersday, and cousin Bosco, who at twenty-seven was too old for regular lessons, but still came by from time to time, when Bungo would look over his essays or quiz him on his general knowledge.  

Bilbo looked up at Bungo, his eyes wide.  "But, Papa! Can I still read on other days, too?"

Bungo laughed.  "Of course you can, Bilbo-lad!  You may read on your own anytime you wish!"

"Unless," added his mother quickly, "you have other things you need to do!" She did not want him using "But Papa said!" as an excuse when he had his little chores to do, or when she sent him outside to get some sunshine and play.

"This is going to be splendid!" Bilbo exclaimed.

Bungo grinned.  "I certainly hope so, son!"


Forelithe, S.R. 1300

"You can do it, Bilbo!"  Bilbo looked at Chop dubiously. His cousin was a good ten years older, but sometimes he did not seem very sensible.

"Siggy's up there." Chop reminded him.

"Siggy fell out of the rooftree at Bag End." Bilbo was very fond of Siggy and Chop as well, but they did some odd things.  He had been very frightened when his visiting cousin had fallen out of the huge oak that grew atop the Hill a few days ago.  In spite of the bump on his head, Siggy had not seemed much bothered by his mishap. Now they were back at Great Smials and soon the Lithedays would be upon them.

"That wasn't my fault, the branch was broken." Siggy called down from the huge chestnut tree.  "Come on, you can do it!  Chop will help you."

"Bilbo, it's the only way we will be able to see anything!  Don't you want to know what Gandalf is up to?"

The Took children were forbidden by the Old Took to pester the wizard when he was preparing his fireworks.  This of course, made them all the more eager to watch his mysterious preparations.  Bilbo nodded.

Adalgrim (known to his cousins as "Chop") gave Bilbo a boost to the lowest limb, and then scrambled up after him.

Bilbo gave a shudder as he looked down at the ground. "Don't look down," said Adalgrim.  "Now, stand up carefully, take hold of the next branch, and pull yourself up to it. All right! You are doing just fine, little cousin!  Two more branches and we will be right up there with Siggy."

Once he stopped moving, and was ensconced on the branch with a cousin on either side, Bilbo's stomach stopped doing little flip-flops.  The three of them gazed out on the assembly field, where Gandalf stood in the middle, with his cart and his immense horse Bran.  He thrust his staff into the ground, and proceeded to measure its shadow and then to pace off from it in different directions.  The three of them watched him for quite a while, when he suddenly turned and looked directly at them.  Bilbo gave a yip and nearly slid from the branch, but his cousins caught him tightly by the braces.  He looked ruefully at the leg of his breeches, torn and slightly bloody at the knee where it had caught upon the tree's rough bark..  He hoped his mum would not scold him too much. After Gandalf caught them, they climbed down quickly and made their way back to the Smials.

The three went to confess to Bilbo's mother-- for of course, they could not allow him to suffer the consequences alone.  She just smiled, and looked at the damage, and before any of them could say anything, she said, "So you've been climbing trees, have you?"  She cleaned Bilbo's knee and made him change his breeches, and then offered the lads some of the sugar biscuits she had just made.

Siggy blinked.  "Your mother didn't scold you!" he said in amazement.

"Of course she didn't," said Adalgrim. "She is a real Took!"  He sighed.  His own mother, while much beloved, was seldom as understanding of the scrapes he got into, nor was Siggy's mother.  But then his mother was a Baggins, and Siggy's mother was a Bunce.  Sometimes they just did not understand what it meant to be a Took.

"Why thank you, Chop!" Belladonna said, as she came in with the biscuits and a pitcher of ginger beer on a tray.  "And thank you for teaching Bilbo to climb!  It is certainly a very important skill.  Did I ever tell you of the story of when Gandalf had me climb a tree?"


Solmath, S.R. 1306

Bilbo looked up from his essay on Bandobras "Bullroarer" Took.  "Papa, did Bagginses ever do anything important?"

"What do you mean, son?"

"Well, Bandobras Took killed the Chief Goblin, and saved the Shire from the Goblin Invasion.  In the  Long Winter, it was Tooks who brought Gandalf and help to the Shire.  And the Tooks are the Thains.  The Brandybucks were Thains, too, back when they were still Oldbucks.  And they settled Buckland. It was their ancestor Bucca who helped the old King and became the first Thain.  So were Bagginses ever important?"

"As well to ask were Bolgers and Boffins and Proudfoots ever important, Bilbo. Not everything a hobbit does gets into the history books."

"I suppose not."  Bilbo sighed.  "But it would be nice if Bagginses had done something!"

Bungo looked thoughtful.  "Bilbo, see that shelf to the right of the hearth, the second one up from the bottom?"

"The ones with the brown covers?  Aren't those the Family Books?"

"Yes, they are.  I want you to look at some of them, and see if you can find any 'important' Bagginses.  I'll give you until next week to make me a list."

Bilbo sighed.  He loved to read, but Family Books tended to be just Family Trees, with occasional tidbits of information.  It was likely to be very boring.

It turned out to be anything but boring.  He handed his list to Bungo, and stood back to await his Papa's verdict.

S.R.16: Lily Bingen wed to Blanco of the Fallohides. They had two sons, Tuck and  Bodo. He grinned at his father. "Tooks are really Bagginses!"

Bungo laughed.  "Perhaps we should tell that to your Uncle Longo, do you suppose?"

S.R. 37: On the Sixth day of Blooting, Inigo Bagens Passed from Life.  He was a great Healer and it was his Tireless Work that Helped the Hobbits of the Shire Survive the Great Plague.  His Loss was followed some four days later by his Daughter Cora, who had been his Apprentice. They were the Last Hobbits to die of the Terrible Disease in the Shire.  "That's really sad, Papa!"

Bungo nodded. "It is very sad; being a Healer is a very important thing for a hobbit, don't you think?"

Bilbo nodded.

S.R. 375: Togo Baggens accompanied the Troop of Archers to the Summons of the King.  He has Not Returned, nor any Others, and it is to be Presumed that they are Slain.

S.R. 376: Gerda Baggens wed to Bucca of the Marish  Bilbo grinned.  "The Brandybucks are Bagginses, too!"

S.R. 740: Porro Baggens elected the First Mayor of the Shire at the Great Fair and Convocation.  "Papa, isn't that the same year that the Tooks became Thains and the Brandybucks settled Buckland?"  

"Yes, it is. There is an interesting story behind that as well, and we will study that part of history very soon."

S.R. 1088: Vigo Baggins marries Diamanda Took, daughter of Thain Isengrim II

S.R. 1227: Balbo Baggins elected Mayor of the Shire. "That was Great-Grandfather!" Bilbo exclaimed.

"He served three terms," said Bungo.

Bilbo nodded at his father.  "There were important Bagginses, Papa!"

"Yes, there were.  And perhaps one day, you will also be a very important Baggins!"

Halimath, S.R. 1308

“Very good, Bilbo.” Bungo cast his eye over the essay in his hand with approval. “Excellent work, and very neatly done as well. You may be finished for the day, son.”

“May I wait for Siggy?” He glanced with longing at his cousin Sigismond, still struggling with quill and ink.

“I think not. I am afraid Sigismond will be a while yet. Perhaps you might go out in the garden, or see if your mother needs any help in the kitchen.”

“Yes, sir,” Bilbo said dejectedly. He tried and failed to catch Siggy’s eye, as he left the room.

He had looked forward so much to this visit from his cousin. They were fast friends, and almost the same age. When Uncle Hildibrand had suggested that Sigismond could benefit from some extra tutoring from his Baggins uncle, and had arranged for Sigismond to spend the fall at Bag End, both lads had been ecstatic. A whole season in one another’s company! Siggy was to stay from the beginning of Halimath to the end of Blotmath!

However, their joy soon turned to dejection, for Bungo soon began to realize why Hildibrand had wanted the extra tutoring. Bilbo was an excellent student, and often basked in his father’s praise. Siggy, however, was an indifferent pupil, and was woefully behind in his studies. The result was that as the two lads worked under Bungo’s watchful eye, Bilbo would quickly finish his assigned work. But Sigismond would still be struggling on. And now, after a few weeks of this, it was beginning to strain the lads’ friendship.

Bilbo’s face flamed, as he recalled the day before. In an effort to mend matters with his cousin, he had deliberately made a mess of his work, spelling words wrong, blotting the ink, and putting down answers that were blatantly incorrect. He hoped that he would then have to work longer alongside his cousin.

But the plan had not worked at all the way he expected. When he handed the flawed work to his father, Bungo had simply stared at him, a knowing expression in his eyes. “I would not have thought this of you, son,” he had said, his tone of sad disappointment more cutting than any angry shouting might have been. He had simply thrown the offending work away, and said, “We’ll have no more of this.”

What was worse was that Siggy had been angry at him, and accused Bilbo of mocking him.
“You needn’t rub my face in it, that you are so much more clever than I am!”

“But I wasn’t! And I’m not! Really!”

But Siggy had turned away, and refused to talk to him the rest of the evening. And though he was speaking to him today, it was in a cold and polite tone, not like they were best friends at all. In fact, Bilbo thought Siggy might be in a fair way to hating him.

And it wasn’t fair at all. It’s not like Siggy wasn’t much better than Bilbo at a lot of things: he could run faster, climb higher, was ever so much better at games, and in thinking up jests, and it never made Bilbo angry at him. In fact he admired his cousin immensely, and was proud to be his friend.

He sat dejectedly upon the front doorstep, and before he knew it, a great tear was trickling down his face. Angrily he rubbed it away, and gave a mighty sniff. It was going to be a mighty long fall, sharing a smial with someone who loathed him.

And he’d thought it was going to be such fun.

His birthday was in only a few days, and he’d eagerly planned the gifts he was going to give. But now, it all seem flat and uninteresting, and he didn’t care if he had a birthday or not.
The door opened behind him.

“Bilbo.” It was his father. “Let’s walk.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, unenthusiastically. He supposed his father was going to berate him. He certainly deserved it, the way he’d been acting. Slowly he stood up, and they walked down the path.

“I’ve had a word with Sigismond,” said Bungo. “I think he understands now that you were simply trying to help yesterday, and not making fun of him. It was not a very wise way to try to help, however.”

“Yes, well, I know that now don’t I, sir?”

“I think, however, that you can be of help to your cousin. Part of the reason he does not do as well as you in his lessons is that his cousin Isembard has so many students. Sigismond shares his time with at least four other cousins. You however, are my only student, or were my only student. And I hate to say this, but I do not believe that Isembard is very patient or demanding of excellence. He has tolerated sloppy work, and now Sigismond suffers from that.”

Bilbo nodded. “I told Siggy he’s just as clever as I am--maybe more--but I don’t think he believes me.”

Bungo smiled. “I daresay he is intelligent enough. I am thinking that I have been going about things wrong. I am not used to having two students at one time. So I am going to have you help me with him. I will give him an assignment tomorrow--your assignment will be to help him with his. Do not do it for him, but help him with any corrections he needs to make, and show him some of the ways you have of keeping your work organized and neat.” He looked at his son sternly. “It’s not to be a playtime--you will work, understand?”

Bilbo nodded solemnly. Anything to help Siggy, and to heal this breach between them.

For the next few days, the lessons were alternated. One day of regular lessons, with both the lads taking instruction from Bungo, and the next day they would collaborate. Siggy’s work was improving greatly in appearance, and there was some gradual improvement in content as well.

Now that Sigismond was seeing improvement himself, he was more tolerant of Bilbo’s being better at lessons. And now that he had his cousin’s help, the two lads had time for the things they had hoped to do during the visit: climbing trees, going for rambles, wading in the Water, fishing and other such pursuits.

The day before his birthday, Bungo let Bilbo off from his lessons, and spent the day working with Siggy on his own. Belladonna and Bilbo were spending the day going through the mathom rooms to find birthday gifts.

“Mama,” he said, “when I am grown, I think I will buy people new presents on my birthday!” He said this as he cast a jaundiced eye on a scarf of a rather sad shade of yellow and brown.

Belladonna laughed. “Well, when you are grown you may do so if it pleases you, although you may find the practice a bit wearing on your purse.”

Bilbo picked up a bronze paperweight in the shape of a mushroom. “Do you think Uncle Rudigar will like that?”

Belladonna suppressed a smile. “I am quite sure he will; you know how fond he is of mushrooms.” And, she thought, it should be to his taste, as it was a wedding gift from him. The idea of giving it back to him tickled her fancy. “What about something for your cousin, little Otho?”

Bilbo made a face. “Do I have to?”

His mother laughed. “I know he’s can be unpleasant, Bilbo, but he is your cousin.”

Bilbo picked up the rejected scarf. “Here, then.” He looked about. “I want to find that draughts set for Siggy--” He began to rummage in a corner, and then stopped. “Or maybe he would like this better now,” he said.

Belladonna raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think he would like that?”

“Well,” said Bilbo seriously, “he mightn’t a few days ago, but I think he would now.”

The next evening, Bilbo passed out the gifts as the party guests arrived, mostly Baggins relations. Tookland and Buckland were a bit far to travel for a mere child’s birthday. But Siggy, of course, was there. He hung back until the other gifts had been given.

“Here, Siggy.” Bilbo was a bit anxious. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now it came to it, would Siggy really like it? It was really more of a grown-up present.

Siggy opened the package curiously, and then his face took on a look of pleased astonishment. “Oh Bilbo! This is splendid!”

Bilbo was surprised to see tears standing in his cousin’s eyes. “Do you really like it then?”

Siggy looked at the nicely carved deskset, with its porcelain inkwell, a penholder, and little cubbyholes for holding letters. “You really do think I’m clever and can do well in lessons!”

“Of course I do!” said Bilbo stoutly.

“I’ll use it right away!” said Siggy. He grinned. “And the first thing I’ll use it for is to write a thank you note to you!”

(A/N: In my Shire the educational system is family based.  Families which are literate rely on the parents, or on older siblings, to teach the young children to read and write.  Among most families, that is as far as the education goes.  However, among the gentry, more education is considered necessary.  Among those families an uncle or cousin who has a scholarly bent may become the Family Tutor.  Once the children have reached a certain amount of proficiency in the basics of reading, writing, and arithmetic, they are passed on to that person to begin learning things like Shire history and so forth.  Children who have an aptitude for music or art will also learn those skills from someone in the family.

Among working class hobbits, there are many who are not literate.  Some never learn their letters, and tend to view such skills with suspicion (like the Gaffer Gamgee, Sam's father). However, it is not unheard of for an employer to teach an employee to read, or for a Master to teach an apprentice if he or she is illiterate.

I do think that the literacy rate in the Shire was somewhat higher than some authors portray it, as we are told how very busy the Shire Post was kept with letters.

The "Bingen" used as the first form of the Baggins name is a nod to the "Labingi" name which JRRT says was the Westron form of Baggins.

"Blooting" is the Bree-land form of "Blotmath"-- November-- and I think might still have been in use so early in the Shire's founding years.)  

(A/N: The first part of this chapter is referencing my story "The Knight Has Been Unruly".  At 21, Bilbo's age is about the equivalent of a human adolescent of between 13 to 14)

Chapter 6: Consequences

 
2 Lithe, S.R. 1311

"Well, lads," said Adalgrim, poking his head into Siggy's room, where Bilbo and Siggy were sitting morosely.  "I've come to say farewell."

"I know," said Siggy glumly. "Uncle Bungo says they will be leaving after elevenses, and he is very angry with Bilbo."

"Oh fuddlebuckets!" Chop flushed.  "I'm sorry Bilbo!  I didn't know you were leaving today!  It's all my fault!"

Bilbo refrained from agreeing with his older cousin.  It had been Chop's idea to pilfer some of Gandalf's fireworks during the celebrations the night before.  They'd been caught, and not only had Gandalf been angry with with them, but so had the Old Took and their parents.  Instead he said, "If you did not know I was leaving, why did you come to tell me good-bye?"

"Because I am leaving.  Grandfather says I am a bad influence on you younger ones, that now I am of age and too old for such tweenish japes.  He told me I was endangering you two as well as little Rory and Faro by involving all of you." He sighed.  "I had no idea, until Gandalf explained it, that his fireworks could be so dangerous. Anyway, I am being sent away from the Great Smials.  There's a farm at Whitwell, and I am to move there and take it up.  I can't even come back to visit here until Yule."

Bilbo and Siggy looked up in shock. "Oh, Chop!" Bilbo exclaimed, "How could he do that?"

"Easily enough, Bilbo. He is the Old Took, after all, as well as the Thain. He says I need to learn how to behave like an adult since I now am one, and I guess I agree with him. I should not have put you lads in trouble-- and I really should not have brought Rory and Faro into it. Gandalf said people have been blinded or badly injured from not using fireworks properly." He sighed. "And I am sorry your visit was cut short, Bilbo."

Bilbo and Siggy ran to embrace their older cousin, whom they had always admired for his adventurous streak and his grand ideas. He ruffled their heads and said, "You won't recognise me when next you see me! I will be so staid and proper!"

"Will you write to us, Chop?" Bilbo asked.

He chuckled. "Only if you write to me," he said. "Good-bye, lads! Don't have too much fun without me!"

He turned and left. The younger lads watched after him. "Not much chance of that," Siggy muttered. Bilbo nodded morosely.

The ride back to Hobbiton was silent. Bilbo felt his disgrace keenly; his father was both angry and disappointed with him, and his even his mother was unhappy, though she tended to blame Adalgrim instead of Bilbo. As for Bilbo, he had a feeling that he would not be having much fun. He was now cut off from his two favorite Took cousins, and most of his Baggins cousins were too young or too old. As for the other lads in the village, most of the ones who were his age were working lads, already doing jobs for their parents or apprenticed to learn the skills they would need to make a living.

The family took their tea at The Ivy Bush when they arrived back at Hobbiton, and then went back up to Bag End.  Bungo called Bilbo into his study.

"Have a seat, son," his father said.

Bilbo sat down heavily, and studied his toes.

"Tooks can be rather overwhelming, can they not?" Bungo's tone was lighter than Bilbo had expected.

"What do you mean, Papa?"

"It is very easy when among them to be either intimidated or carried along with their ideas in a flood of enthusiasm.  I tend to the first reaction, and I had to learn to stand up to your mother's kin when necessary.  It took me a long while to do so.  You are half-Took yourself, and so you tend to the latter reaction.  I think that what you need is a responsibility, something to steady you, something that will help you learn to make decisions on your own. I have just the job for you."

"Job?" Bilbo blinked.  He was only twenty-one!

"Yes. As you know, Greenbriars is standing empty."

Bilbo nodded.  Uncle Bingo had finally persuaded Grandmother Laura to move to Overhill and live with him and his wife Chica and their little son Falco last spring.  The original Baggins ancestral hole was now uninhabited.

"I have given permission to your cousin Fosco and his family to move there.  Fosco and Ruby are increasing their family once more-- there will be another babe sometime shortly before the turn of the year.  Dora is nine now and little Drogo has become a faunt.  They need a larger home."

Bilbo brightened up at this news.  He was fond of his little cousins, though he did not see them often, as they had been living in the Southfarthing near their Hornblower kin.  But he wondered what it had to do with him, and it showed on the face he turned to his father.

"The smial needs turning out, Bilbo."  He chuckled at the expression of horror on his son's face.  "No, lad, I do not expect you to do all of it yourself.  I have engaged the Twofoots to do the actual work of cleaning.  But they will need help and supervision.  There are still many things there that need to be disposed of--either sent on to your grandmother, or given away as mathoms, or saved for Cousin Fosco's family.  You will be in charge.  Mind you, I expect you to lend a hand or a strong back if it is needed, as well, and not to balk at a little dusting.  And if there are things you believe to be especially valuable or of which you are unsure, I will be glad to give you advice. But the decisions will be yours."

Bilbo stared at his father in shock.

"You will meet Mag Twofoot there after second breakfast tomorrow, and go through the hole with him to decide what's to be done." Magpie Twofoot was the eldest of the Twofoot sons. His sisters Posey and Blossom and his brother Jackdaw often hired out to do such work.

" I expect you to spend at least half a day every day except Highday on this task until it is complete.  You will still be coming to me for your lessons every other day between tea and supper.  And as your cousins propose to move in the first week in Halimath, you must have it all done by then."

Bilbo just blinked. He did not know what to say. He expected it would be a long summer until Halimath.

Drogo smiled.  "Good night, son."

"Good night, Papa," Bilbo said hoarsely.  He got up and went silently to his room.  For a long time he lay awake, wondering why his father had given him such a big responsibility when he had just done something so irresponsible.

__________________________________


" 'Morning, Master Bilbo," Magpie gave a bob of his head and Posey, who had accompanied him, gave a little half-curtsy.  Bilbo blushed.  Those were the sorts of things that working hobbits did around his father. It felt very odd for them to be doing them around him.

"Good morning, Mag! and Posey!" He blushed again. Mag was almost of age, but Posey was only a few years older than Bilbo, and very comely.  Bilbo was unused to speaking to lasses unless they were cousins.  He took out the key to the smial that his father had handed him that morning.  Hobbits did not lock their holes for the most part (except, he thought, in Buckland) but an empty smial was a different matter altogether.  For one thing, it was a temptation to tweens.

The round blue door opened with a creak.  Mag cocked his head.  "That there door could use a bit o' oiling 'round the hinges," he said.

Bilbo took out his stylus and a little notepad.  "1. Oil hinges," he jotted down.  He had decided to be very organised about all of this.  He wanted to be sure his father's trust was not misplaced.

The front hall was empty, and the hole smelled musty.  Bilbo remembered how cluttered it had been. Their feet left prints on the dusty flagstone floor.  "2. Clean floor," he wrote.  Posey turned and opened one the windows wide to let in some air, but there wasn't much of a breeze. It was a very hot and sticky summer.  "3. Air out hole."

They glanced into the parlour on their left.  There was still furniture in there, now covered with dustcloths.  "4. Does Cousin Fosco want any of the furniture?"

They went from room to room, Mag's expert eyes spotting any needed repairs, and Posey noticing things that might need to be cleaned or replaced.  Bilbo dutifully wrote down all of their suggestions, even when he was not sure he understood what they were.  The mathom rooms made him sad. They were filled with many of Grandfather Mungo's clothes, and not a few of Grandmother Laura's.  And there, in one room, was a box filled with many of the games Uncle Bingo had thought up: game boards and counters and dice and other fun things. What should be done with all of these things? "12. Who can use grandfather's clothes?"

______________________________

"Bungo, don't you think that is a dreadfully large responsibility for a lad of Bilbo's age; why he is scarcely out of his childhood!"

Bungo nodded. "It is, my dear; but never fear, I will not allow him to flounder without guidance. I will help him, and Mag knows that I expect him to help Bilbo as well. He needs to learn to think for himself and make decisions. You know as well as I do that he is far too easily led by his friends."

"Especially his Tookish friends, you mean to say," Belladonna said ruefully. "A little mischief is expected of tweens. But medding with Gandalf's fireworks was dangerous! Oh, Bungo! He could have been badly hurt! I cannot believe Chop was so reckless with the younger lads!"

"I believe it, my love. And that is precisely why I want Bilbo to do this, so that the next time Chop suggests something daft like stealing Gandalf's fireworks or Siggy decides that pummeling one another's teeth out is a good way to earn money, he will have the wisdom and the backbone to say 'no'."

_________________________________

Bilbo and the Twofoots came to the back door. He finished writing "23. Paint kitchen, 24. Have chimneys cleaned."

"Is there anything else, Mag?" he asked.

Mag smiled.  "No, Master Bilbo, I think that will do to go on with.  We'll see you tomorrow, and I'll bring Blossom and Jackdaw along."

Bilbo nodded, and watched them leave.  Then he sighed and looked at his list.  Suddenly it seemed that the time to Halimath was very short.

( A/N: I would like to thank Thranduil Oropherion Redux for the wonderful word "Fuddlebuckets", which he says originated with Niriel Raina. Thanks to you both.)

(A/N: Bilbo is almost 21, the equivalent of a 13 to 14 year old human adolescent.)

Chapter 7: Task Accomplished

5 Halimath, S.R. 1311

The weather this day was blustery, but at least it was dry, thought Bilbo. The summer had been unusually cool and wet, and the rains had all seemed to come at just the wrong times to be of help to the gardens and crops. But today was fine enough.  He stood nervously by the door of Greenbriars, newly painted a bright yellow.  He fingered the key to the hole; his father would be here soon to look over his work, and in just a few hours his cousins would be arriving to take up residence.  Would they like it?  Would they understand how hard he had worked? What if they did not like it?  He nervously rubbed the toe of his left foot against the heel of his right, and put a finger beneath his collar.

He heard voices, and looked up to see both his parents coming. He grinned; he had not expected his mother to come as well. For some reason the knowledge that both of them were there made him feel more confident.

His parents came through the gate in the low stone wall and up the newly-swept flagged path to the smial.  The herbaceous border along the walk had been nicely spruced up by Bag End's very own gardener, Tam Goodchild.  

The portico above the door had been fixed and painted a pale green. Corbels that had been carved by Mag held up and supported a swath of turf that grew down from the Hill to shade the front step. On either side of the door were large round windows, now sparkling clean.

Bilbo greeted his parents, and then turned to unlock the door with the key.  He opened the door wide-- there was not a hint of a squeak in the hinges.  He drew a deep breath.

"Go in and look around," he said, "I'll wait out here." For he had suddenly decided he could not bear to hear what they said, in case they did not like it.  Or, what was worse, if they pretended to like it when they did not, for fear of hurting his feelings. He watched them pass in, and sat down on the front doorstep. It seemed he was sitting there for ages and ages. He heard laughter at one point, and his face burned. Were they laughing at something they liked, or had he done something completely ridiculous?

Finally, he felt the presence of his father behind him. "Bilbo, come in," Bungo said.

Bilbo stood wiping sweaty palms on his breeches,  and went in, and was relieved to see proud smiles on both their faces.

"Son, you did a fine job. I think that your cousins will be very comfortable here," said his father.

His mother hugged him. "Oh, my dear! I am so proud of you!"

Now he did blush, this time with pleasure. "I couldn't have done it without Mag and the Twofoots and your help, too, Mama and Papa!" For true to his father's word, they had given him advice whenever he asked, and once or twice when there had been serious matters that would have been difficult for a lad of his age-- such as the discovery in the larder that one of the large roots from the rooftree had broken through, or when a new well had to be dug, as the old one had dried up-- his father had come down to consult with the workers. But he had not taken over, and once those problems had been dealt with, he had left things in Bilbo's hands once more.

"What was so funny?" he asked, "I heard you laughing!"

Both his parents burst into laughter again. "We were looking at the portrait over the fireplace!" said his mother. "The one of your Grandfather Mungo and his sisters and brothers! They all looked so solemn and stiff; and your father is the spitting image of your grandfather. And Aunt Pansy!" Belladonna chuckled.

"Aunt Pansy looked as though she had something stuck up her nose even then, and her a mere tween of twenty-two!" said Bungo.

Bilbo had to  snicker himself. "I found it in one of the mathom rooms, and it seemed right to put it up. Do you think I should put something else there?"

"No, it's just fine, son! And your cousin will be pleased, since his own father is in it. And Uncle Largo was a cunning little chap at that age, if the picture is anything to go by."

Bilbo breathed a deep sigh of relief. "I'm so glad that you all like it; I was afraid that you wouldn't."

"You have done a wonderful job, son. And I think that you've learned a few things along the way."

"I think I have, too, Papa."

"Well, shall we walk back up to Bag End for elevenses?" asked his mother.  "Then the two of you can help me prepare luncheon for Cousin Fosco and his family!"

It was very nearly time for luncheon when there came a smart rapping at Bag End's front door. Bilbo rushed to open it.  "Welcome, Cousin Fosco, Cousin Ruby!" Little Dora was holding her mother's hand and looking quite serious; Cousin Ruby was round with child, and her hair was windblown. Cousin Fosco was holding little Drogo in his arms. The faunt had been sheltering his face against the wind on his father's shoulder, but at the sound of Bilbo's voice he twisted around and stared.

"Drogo, do you remember Cousin Bilbo?"

Drogo shook his head shyly.  

"Hullo, Drogo," Bilbo said, waggling his fingers at his little cousin. He smiled at him, and then Drogo smiled back.

"Bi'bo? he asked.

"That's right! You are a clever lad!"

Drogo grinned and held out his arms to be taken. Bilbo took the faunt and stood back. "Come in out of the wind!  Mama is in the kitchen and Papa is in the dining room laying the table!  Luncheon is almost ready!"

A fine repast had been prepared: onion soup, a salad of young greens, roasted potatoes, leg of lamb with mint jelly and for afters, a strawberry tart with cream, and fruit, bread and cheese for the filling up of corners..

The talk at the table was at first mostly of the food.  

"I am afraid that I had to use some strawberry preserves from last season to fill out the tart. I am afraid we did not get many strawberries this year," said Belladonna apologetically.

"It's very good, Aunt Belladonna," said Dora politely.

"Thank you,dear! Would you like some more?"

At the child's nod, Bella helped her to another piece.

"I would never have been able to tell, if you had not mentioned it, Belladonna," said Ruby. "I must get the receipt* from you sometime."

"You are most welcome to it, Ruby.  I will write it out for you this evening."

Fosco sighed. "Strawberries are not the only thing this year to have a poor yield. It has been unseasonably cool and wet, except when it has been blisteringly hot. I've never known weather so contrary!  The yield of pipeweed this year was truly dismal, and the quality has suffered greatly."

"So Longo said in his last letter. He seemed to feel that the weather was meant as a personal affront to him. I have to say, I am worried about the harvest this year.  The barley and the wheat got rain at just the wrong time!" replied Bungo. "My tenants are very worried.  Root vegetables have done well, but if the weather stays too wet they are likely to rot in the ground before they can be gathered."

"I am worried about the winter. It may be a five meal winter, or even a four meal one..."

"Fosco!" said Ruby reprovingly. "The children," she hissed.

"Let's talk of more cheerful things, cousins!  I think perhaps the time has come for you all to see your new hole!" Bungo intervened.  Ruby was right-- talk of possible grim times ahead was not for young ears.

This suggestion met with approval all around. "Why don't we just put the food away! The washing up can be done when we return," said Belladonna.

There was, in truth, very little in the way of leftover food to put away, and the job was soon done. Belladonna joined Ruby and Fosco in the waggon the family had arrived in, while Bungo and Bilbo walked down the Hill with the children.  Bungo had little Dora's hand, while Bilbo carried Dudo.  The >faunt seemed to have taken quite a liking for Bilbo and was pleased to be carried by him.

When they arrived, Bilbo was given the privilege of unlocking the yellow door and flinging it wide open. Cousin Fosco and his family stepped inside.

"Oh my!" exclaimed Ruby. "This is lovely!"

A green wool rug worked with a border of roses occupied the center of the floor. To one side of the door was a convenient table, and to the other side, a small bench and a coat rack with an umbrella stand at the bottom. To the right an arched opening led to a corridor along which were located the various bedrooms and mathom rooms.  To the left was the front room, all the furniture uncovered, dusted and polished to a nicety. They passed through the front room to the dining room and the kitchen, which was gleaming; it had been painted and the floor had been scrubbed and polished. A large brick fireplace for cooking, with an oven built into one side stood against the far wall.

A large oak table stood in the center of the room, perfect for working on. There was a bench on each side of the long table.  

After the family had exclaimed over the kitchen, Bilbo led them back to their rooms. On his mother's advice, he had arranged the children's room with one large bed, so the siblings could sleep close by one another.  This seemed strange to him; he had only a small bed for himself. But he knew that when he visited the Great Smials, he slept in a single large bed with his cousins, so perhaps that was not so odd after all.

Dora was thrilled with the room-- it had a large window, with gauzy curtains that billowed in on the breeze, and beneath it was a bench covered with pillows. Along one wall were fastened several shelves, and there were many toys Bilbo had found in the mathom rooms arranged on them-- dolls that had belonged to his aunts, blocks, a toy farm, a leather ball, a top and some of his Uncle Bingo's games. Bilbo set Drogo down and he toddled over to the shelf and picked up one of the little carven cows from the toy farm.  The child turned with a wide grin and held it up. "Cow!" he exclaimed proudly. He walked over to Bilbo and handed it to him; Bilbo went over and got down the other farm figures and put them in the floor and knelt down to play with his little cousin.  He did not even notice when Dora happily took one of the dolls from another shelf.

The adults left the children to their play and returned to the parlour.  "I am impressed," said Fosco. "This hole is in fine repair."

"And it is nicely arranged! Of course there is still room for us to put our things that we brought, but there is no urgency," said Ruby. "We can make our home here right away, and take our time with anything else."  

"Bilbo worked very hard at this," said Bungo.

"Bilbo?" Fosco blinked. "He did this?"

"Not alone, of course," said the proud father, "but he had most of the responsibility for seeing it done, and he stuck to the work even when it was frustrating or difficult."

Ruby smiled. "We shall have to give him an extra-nice birthday present this year."

"He's fond of books," said his mother.
_____________________

At supper that evening Bilbo could not stop talking.  "They really liked it!  Did you hear what Cousin Fosco said about the portrait?  He says he can't wait for his father to visit so that he can see it!  And Cousin Ruby said she loved the rug-- I'm so glad you let me have that rug from our mathom rooms for their hole, mother!  It fits in perfectly!
And Drogo and Dora really liked their room, too.  Isn't little Drogo the cunningest thing?  He seems to like me!"

His parents did not seem to mind at all that they could not get a word in edgewise.

 
Chapter 8: Twenty-one

21-22 Halimath, S.R. 1311

Bilbo looked at the gifts his parents had placed before him: a small box and a soft package (both labeled "From Papa and Mama"); another box--this one somewhat larger-- bearing a tag that said "From Gammer Laura"; a flat package from "Grandfather and Grandmother Took; and a somewhat oddly shaped package tied up in much paper and a lot of twine, "From Siggy to Bilbo". The latter three had all arrived by post.  Twenty-one was not an important birthday, not like five or thirteen or twenty or thirty-three when he would come of age. It was not even moderately important like twenty-five when he would be allowed to smoke a pipe or go into the taverns and order half-a-pint by himself, or twenty-eight when he would be allowed to court a lass if he wanted to. It was just an ordinary birthday, and he would receive only a few gifts today, and give out perhaps a few more tomorrow on his birthday. There would be a small dinner party tomorrow: Cousin Fosco and his family, and a few other family members would attend, and Bilbo would give out the presents he had selected.

Bilbo looked at the packages, and then at his parents.  

"Go ahead," laughed his mother. "First breakfast will wait a few moments!"

Bilbo picked up the small box.  He gave it a little shake and it rattled slightly. Carefully he lifted the lid.  "Oh Papa! Oh Mama!" There, nestled in the box was a silver fob, and on the end of the fob was a large shiny brass key.

"It's your own key to Bag End," said Bungo. "You have proven to us this summer that you are ready for such a responsibility."

Bilbo's eyes shone as he looked at the key. He put it back in the box, and reached for the other package. It was soft, and he guessed it might be clothing. Untying the ribbon, he allowed the white muslin in which it was wrapped to fall away.  He held it up.  It was a weskit, in a shiny silvery-blue fabric, richly embroidered with vines and leaves in the many colours of fall: deep wine-reds, coppery oranges, subdued dark golds. The buttons were cunningly leaf-shaped, and of burnished bronze. He gasped and held it high. Never had he possessed such a grown-up article of clothing before.  "Thank you!" he grinned.

Quickly he opened the packages from his grandparents. Laura had sent a nicely carved foot-grooming set, and from his Took grandparents there was a book about the first Took Thain, Isumbras I.  

He picked up the gift from Siggy, and felt of it. It seemed as though there were several items bound up together. It was very lumpy and was wrapped in brown paper and what seemed to be an entire ball of string.

He picked in frustration at one of the many knots, knowing that this way of wrapping up his gift was one of Siggy's jokes. His parents watched for a moment, and then Belladonna giggled. "My nephew has quite a sense of humour," she said. And she pulled her sewing scissors out of her pocket and handed them to Bilbo. He took them with alacrity, and then slipping the point beneath the string, began to snip away.  As the cut ends of the string sprang away, the paper slipped and all the items within came clattering out, some hitting the table, and others bouncing to the floor.  "Fuddlebuckets!" Bilbo swore, as he grabbed one of the hard leather rings before it rolled off the table. His father tightened his lips at the language, but Belladonna gave a slight shake of her head, so he said nothing. One of the heavy metal stakes landed with a clang, barely missing Bungo's foot. "It's a quoits set!" Bilbo exclaimed, grinning. "Now Siggy and I can play them here when he visits!"

First breakfast was porridge laced with honey and filled with dried berries, buttery scones, soft boiled eggs and fragrant tea. The family was just finishing up when there came a knock at the kitchen door.

"Come in!" called Bungo.

The door opened. It was Mag Twofoot. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Bungo," he said, "but we have a birthday present for young Master Bilbo from the family."

"Do come in, then, Mag!" Bungo replied.

Mag was bearing a small basket, and he proffered it to Bilbo, who lifted off the white napkin that covered it. In it was a fragrant seedcake, still warm from the oven. "Blossom baked it, Master Bilbo!"

"Thank you, Mag!" said Bilbo. "Would you like to stay and share some with us?"

Mag blushed and shook his head. "No thank you, Master Bilbo! I've got me work to see to. We just wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday on the morrow!" He gave a slight bow of his head in farewell.

Bilbo gazed at the seedcake happily, and then said to his parents, "Will you share it with me while it's still warm?"

Of course there was only one answer to that!  They left about half of it to have with their elevenses later, and then Bilbo took his gifts to his room.

He was admiring himself in the mirror, resplendent in his new waistcoat with the silver fob hanging from his pocket, when he heard a knocking upon the door.  He could tell that his mother had answered, and wondered who the visitor was.

"Bilbo!" Belladonna called. "You have a guest."

He found his little cousin Dora standing in the front hall with his mother. Dora had something in her hands-- it was a book! He could see a blue cover, but her hands were over the title.

"Happy Birthday, Cousin Bilbo," she said solemnly.  Bilbo thought Dora a funny child. She was so serious most of the time.  "Mommy and Poppy and Drogo and me got this for you. Mommy said I could bring it up the Hill to you all by myself."  She held it out to him, and he took it from her carefully. He looked at the title: Mushrooms of the Shire and Buckland by by Roderic Brandybuck.

"Why, thank you!" Bilbo exclaimed. "This is a splendid book!"

"It has pictures," said Dora, "of all the mushrooms-- even the Bad Ones!"

"Won't you join us for second breakfast, dear?" asked Belladonna, as Bilbo flipped through some of the pages of the new book.

"Mommy said I could if you invited me," she answered. "It wouldn't be proper if you did not invite me."

Bella's lips twitched in a smile, but she suppressed it. "Well, I have invited you, and it is nearly ready.  Bilbo?"  Bilbo was engrossed in the book. "Bilbo! Second breakfast is ready!"

"Oh!" He closed the book.  Then he looked at himself. "Perhaps I should take off my new waistcoat! I don't wish to spoil it before tomorrow!"

Belladonna laughed.  "Of course! You run and change. Dora and Papa and I will wait upon you in the kitchen."

After second breakfast, Bilbo persuaded Dora to come out in the front garden with him, and they played with his new quoits set, until she had to leave, for she had promised her mother to be home in time for elevenses.  It was as well, because the morning that had begun so promisingly had dissolved into rain and grey drizzle shortly afterwards.

Bungo had excused Bilbo from his lessons for both this day and the next, so his mother suggested he use the free time to write thank you letters for his gifts. He did so, and then spent most of the afternoon and evening, save for mealtimes, absorbed in his new books.

_______________________

Bilbo's birthday dawned grey and overcast, but without any feeling of rain in the air. He rose early, excited as he always was on his birthday. He heard his parents bustling in the kitchen making first breakfast-- was that Papa's griddlecakes he smelled? And sausages. He quickly put on his dressing gown and and hurried to the kitchen.

The morning passed in a blur of activity. Belladonna sent Bilbo and Bungo off to see to the gifts Bilbo was giving. He'd made a selection of a number of items from the family mathom rooms, and he and his father would see to wrapping and tagging them as Belladonna saw to the cleaning of the smial and the preparations for the meal.  She had engaged Blossom and Posey Twofoot to assist her in the cleaning and cooking, and to serve at table during luncheon and tea while the guests were there. There were short breaks for second breakfast and elevenses.

After elevenses, Bilbo was sent off to take a bath and get dressed for the party. The guests would be arriving shortly before luncheon.  He scrubbed till he was red, and then dressed in his nicest suit of clothes. The new weskit with the silver fob figured prominently, and he could not help but preen just a little as he looked at his reflection in his mirror. He carefully brushed the brown curls on both head and toes, and then went out to the front hall. His father was there, stacking the presents Bilbo planned to give
out on the table that stood next to the front door.

"Hullo, Papa! Do I look all right?"

"You look splendid, son!"

Just then there was the first knock upon the door. Cousin Fosco and his family were the first to arrive. They greeted their guests, and then Bilbo handed out the gifts, starting with little Drogo, to whom he gave a leather ball that had once been his own as a faunt.  For Dora there was a puzzle his Uncle Bingo had made for him when he was the same age as she was-- it had little tiles that slid about in a framework; when they were all properly lined up they formed a picture of a basket of kittens. Cousin Ruby received some balls of yellow and green wool yarn, perfect for knitting up baby things. (Belladonna had simply smiled and told Bilbo "yes" when he found them in the mathom room. She had bought them in anticipation of giving her son the brothers and sisters who never came, and she now knew never would.)  Finally he handed Cousin Fosco the gift he had chosen for him. It was a special jar meant for holding pipeweed and keeping it fresh. Cousin Fosco was quite pleased with it, and was effusive in his thanks, making Bilbo blush red as sunrise.

Soon Aunt Belba and Uncle Rudigar arrived with Bilbo's cousin Herugar, who was only a couple of years younger than Bilbo. Herugar was also Cousin Ruby's nephew.  Aunt Linda ( who had wed a Proudfoot) was there with her little son Odo.  Uncle Bodo had not come, as he had business in Michel Delving.

Bilbo dutifully passed out the gifts to his guests.  These were all who came for luncheon, though there would be a few more guests for tea.  Luncheon would be in the dining room; tea, if the weather held, would be in the front garden.

Luncheon was a fine repast, consisting of most of Bilbo's favorite foods. The cake was to be served at tea when the rest of the guests had come, but there was a brambleberry trifle instead for afters.

Afterwards, Bilbo and Herugar went out to play with the quoits, and with the large kickball Bilbo had given Herry as his gift. The youngest cousins were put down for naps, and the fathers went out to smoke and to watch the lads play, all the while talking in low worried tones about the poor harvest.

As the other guests began to arrive near teatime, Bilbo once more handed out gifts. Cousin Polo arrived with his wife and little ones. He was Chop's uncle, and he bore a package and a letter.  "Since I'm too late to give you Chop's gift, I'll give it to your parents for now; but I don't think that the rule applies to letters." Of course the gift should have come before noon; Bilbo was curious, but understanding.  Polo handed the letter to Bilbo, who was torn between his duties as a host, and his wish to go off and read it. Reluctantly, Bilbo put the letter in his pocket.

Shortly afterwards some of his Goodbody relatives began to arrive, and now there were enough guests near his age to make a good game of kick-the-ball possible.  The young ones divided up into teams, Bilbo at the head of one and Herry of the other one, and the vigorous game began, and lasted until the tweens were distracted by the meal preparations.

Tea was an even more lavish spread than luncheon had been: biscuits of every variety, fairy cakes, little sandwiches cut into fanciful shapes, stuffed eggs, stuffed mushrooms-- and finally a large cake, filled with dried fruits and nuts and topped with marzipan.

After tea, the party began to wind down, and the guests to leave.

As Posey and Blossom began to carry the dishes back into the smial and Mag and Jack appeared to take away the tables-- there was no leftover food to speak of-- Bilbo started to help.

Bungo put his hand on his son's shoulder.  "That's not necessary, son. You are tired out.  Why don't you take a little time for yourself, and get some rest before supper?"

Bilbo looked up gratefully at his father and nodded.  "Thank you, Papa."

He went to his room and took off his jacket and his fine new waistcoat and hung them over the back of his chair.  Remembering the letter, he took it out and lay down upon his bed.

18 Halimath, S.R. 1311

Dear Bilbo,

Sorry I couldn't come to your birthday party, cousin!  Farming's a lot harder work than I thought it would be, though it can be fun in its own way.  Fortunately I have some good help in the Goldworthy family.  But the weather's been all wrong this summer, and my first harvest does not look to be too bountiful.

Oh well. I don't wish to be gloomy, but to wish you happy returns of the day and all that. I hope you enjoy your gift; it came to me originally through Uncle Isengar.

Write soon and tell me what you've been up to!

Fond regards and such,
Your cousin,
Chop

Bilbo smiled at his cousin's letter. It sounded so like him. He wondered what Chop had sent him, and drifted off into an exhausted slumber.

Bungo tapped on the door. "Bilbo? Supper is ready."

There was no answer.  Bungo opened it and looked in.  His son was sprawled up his bed, still dressed, and sound asleep.  For once, thought the fond father, perhaps sleep was more needed than food...

(A/N: Winterfilth is the equivalent of October in the Shire Calendar.)

Chapter 9: There Came an Early Snow…

16 Winterfilth, S.R. 1311

"Mama! Papa! You are not going to believe this!" Bilbo banged on his parent's door; even in his excitement, he knew better than to barge in. He had been twelve when he learned just why that was a bad idea.

"What's wrong, son?" his father called. "Are you all right?"

"Nothing's wrong. At least I don't think so!  Look out your window!" Bungo and Belladonna heard him running down the corridor. They both rose and went over to their window and stared out in astonishment at the snow swirling and dancing and at the white beginning to cover the front garden.

"Snow?" said Belladonna, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"Snow," said Bungo grimly. "I am not so sure that Bilbo was right when he said nothing was wrong. Snow this early is just not natural."

Bella looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"When was the last time the Shire got snow this early in the year?"

His wife went pale. "Oh!"

There was not a hobbit in the Shire who did not learn the tale of the Long Winter of 1158, and the devastation it brought.

Bungo drew in a deep breath. "Still, I could be wrong! Perhaps it's merely a freak storm, and not a harbinger of things to come! And our son seems to be delighted. Since he is awake, I think it may be time for first breakfast!"

Bungo and Belladonna slipped into their dressing gowns and made their way to the kitchen, where Bilbo had already begun breakfast. The teakettle was on the boil, and he had started some porridge. Soon a hearty breakfast was before them.

There was little to do in the smial between first breakfast and second, just some tidying up, and the washing up. Belladonna began to prepare for the second breakfast, though she'd wait to cook until it was closer to the mealtime. But she also began to prepare for elevenses and luncheon. She knew Bilbo and his friends would be out playing in the snow most of the day. Snow was enough of a rarity in the Shire to make it a treat, especially for the younger ones. She firmly put aside her husband's forebodings of the morning.

For elevenses, she thought, perhaps some gingersnaps and sugar biscuits and dried berry scones, with hot milk mixed with cinnamon and honey. She'd make plenty for Bilbo and his friends.

As for luncheon, a hearty soup and fresh bread would be just the thing. She'd set the soup on to simmer right away, thick with potatoes, carrots, parsnips, beans and a big ham bone to give it flavor.  She also started the bread, so that it would have plenty of time to rise.

Immediately after breakfast, Bilbo bundled up in his warmest clothes, including, at his mother's insistence, a knitted cap, a muffler, and gloves.

Soon enough, the Party Field to the east of the Hill was filled with teens and tweens and even a few of the smaller fry. The tweens were building snow forts and stockpiling snowballs in the hopes of a grand snowball fight. Several of the teens had begun building snowhobbits, embellished with small stones for eyes and twigs for noses and arms.

Bungo and Belladonna bundled up as well and wandered down to watch for a while, as did a few other parents. Soon enough, the Party Field to the east of the Hill was filled with teens and tweens and even a few of the smaller fry. The tweens were building snow forts and stockpiling snowballs in the hopes of a grand snowball fight. Several of the teens had begun building snowhobbits, embellished with small stones for eyes and twigs for noses and arms. The youngest children were simply enjoying running about in the snow and making footprints.

Bungo and Belladonna bundled up as well and wandered down to watch for a while; Fosco was there with Dora and little Drogo. Drogo sat at his father's feet, bundled up until he was as round as an apple. He was busily picking up mittenfuls of snow and patting it and then trying to eat it.

Fosco looked down and shook his head. "His mother wouldn't like that, but I can't see the harm in it."

"Where is Ruby?" asked Belladonna.

"As cold as it is, and as icy, she thought it best not to come out right now."

"And quite right, in her condition," said Lily Goodbody, who had just joined them. She was a cousin by marriage to both Bungo and Fosco. She looked at the children playing, her own sons among the tweens, who having finished their snow fort and their pile of snowballs were preparing for battle. She shook her head. "I don't know why lads do that! How much fun can it be to get hit with a face full of snow?" She turned to Belladonna with a look that said, aren't they ridiculous?. Belladonna just shrugged-- she had taken part in several snowball fights with her brothers and it really was a lot of fun, but she'd never be able to explain that to Lily Goodbody.

As they watched, some of the younger teens and children had begun to form a circle. Piping voices went up in a nursery song not usually heard until Afteryule, as the young ones held hands and began to dance around:

"Snowflakes! Snowflakes! Snowflakes!
A blanket of white the snow makes!
A covering cold and white
To little hobbits' delight!
Lads and lasses sing and dance
While the Sun gives them a chance.
Soon enough it will melt away,
But while it lasts we'll laugh and play!
Time to chase and time to run!
Time to have a lot of fun!
'Round and 'round and 'round and 'round!
In the soft snow all fall down!"

At the last words of the song, the circle broke apart and the little ones tumbled laughing to the ground.  Belladonna chuckled, and leaned over to Bungo: "I'm going back to Bag End and get elevenses ready! Perhaps I'll bring it out here to warm the children up!"

Lily and another mother, Robinia Bunce, thought this was a splendid idea, and they accompanied her back to the smial where they bustled about preparing platters of biscuits, and filled stone crocks with warm milk and honey, and with mulled apple juice flavoured with cinnamon. Bungo and another friend, Farmer Button, appeared at the back door in time to help carry the trays down. Bella brought out several mugs of polished wood she kept especially for the occasions of entertaining groups of young ones, and they went back down the Hill, where they found a few others had thought of the same thing.

The children and tweens were quite ready for the treat, hungrier than usual for their play in the cold and frosty air it took no coaxing to bring them running. Soon there was neither crumb nor drop left of elevenses. Bilbo and some of his friends carried the trays of dirty dishes back to the hole before they rushed back down.

"Look what Jack and Hom have!" Bilbo exclaimed. Jackdaw Twofoot, and his friend Holman Greenhand were dragging something behind them-- an old tabletop, it appeared, with two holes drilled in one end and a rope tied through for a handle.

"What are you going to do?" Bilbo asked, rushing up to them with his other friends.

"We're going to drag it up the Hill and then slide down on it!" said Jack.  "It will go a treat, don't you know, Master Bilbo! Slide down slick as slick can be!"

"Can I have a turn?" Bilbo asked. Jack grinned and nodded. Some of the other tweens also were clamoring for a turn. 

"How about me?" asked Tolo Goodbody.

"I don't think so," said his mother who had overheard.  "It sounds dreadfully dangerous!"

"But mother!"

Belladonna glanced over at Bungo, who was in earnest conversation with Farmer Button  and well out of earshot. Then she grinned at Jack.  "Why don't we see just how safe it is, Jack? Send me down the hill. If I don't tumble off, it should be safe for the younger hobbits."

"You, Mrs. Baggins?" he asked, horrified.

"Cousin Belladonna, you can't mean that!" exclaimed Lily.

And from Bilbo, whose face was flaming with embarrassment: "Mama!"

But a determined Took is a force to be reckoned with.

"Come along, Jack, Hom-- show me how slick it can go!" She took Hom by the elbow of the other arm-- he was dragging the tabletop with the other-- and started off.

There was no reckoning with Belladonna as she headed up the Hill, Jack trotting behind her stammering. It wasn't his place to gainsay her, and yet he could not help but feel it was not a good idea.

Bilbo ran for his father.  But by the time he had interrupted his father's conversation, and gained his attention to tell him what was going on, Belladonna and the two lads had reached the top of the Hill.

Bungo looked up in exasperation. There was not a thing he could do about it now. Not that there had been much chance that he could have done a thing about it anyway. He opted for the face-saving and comforting strategy of putting an arm around his son's shoulders and plastering a smile on his face.  "That's all right, son. Your mother surely knows what she's doing." I hope, he thought in resignation. All eyes gazed up the Hill.

Atop the Hill, her green eyes sparkling with mischief, Belladonna sat down atop the tabletop and firmly tucked her skirts behind her legs. She took the rope handle in both hands and looked back at the two who were gazing at her in horror. "Give me a shove, lads!" she ordered firmly, and in spite of themselves, they did.

Oh, it was splendid!  It quite took her back to her youth and the memories of sledding with her brothers.  She laughed aloud as the tabletop gained speed, zipping down the Hill and onto the flatter ground of the Party Field, finally losing momentum and stopping itself in a drift of snow.

All had run to where she finally came to a halt. Breathless with laughter, she allowed Bungo to pull her to her feet and catch her in a thoroughly improper embrace topped off with a rare public kiss. If Bilbo had been embarrassed before, it was nothing to the redness of his face now.

Bella turned to look at the scandalised Lily Goodbody. "I do believe that it is perfectly safe."  She stepped back and began to brush the snow from her skirts. Fortunately they had stayed tucked in, which had been her only true fear. Speeding down the Hill in the snow held no fear for her-- but having her skirts come flying up over her head did!

The children were now all clamoring for a turn, and rules were agreed upon, that the youngest children needed to have an older one accompany them, and that some of the fathers would remain near the base of the Hill to ensure a safe arrival at the bottom.

Belladonna said "I do believe that I need to get back to the kitchen and see to luncheon." Invitations to the others were issued, and though many declined, having their own lunches to see to, at least a dozen agreed to accept the invitation to Bag End. Most of the mothers now left the field and the oversight of the children to the fathers.

Bilbo was at first furious with his mother, but the admiring comments of his friends-- especially when Jack told him "Your mum's a corker, she is!" more than served to assuage his embarrassment. And after all, she was a Took, wasn't she?

By the time the young ones had their fill of sledding their stomachs were reminding them of the time.

Lily Goodbody was not one of those who joined them, nor was her son Tolo, in spite of his pleas. But Fosco, along with little Dora and Drogo, was, as were his Hornblower cousins Largo and Lando who were a couple of years younger than Bilbo and were visiting at Greenbriars. Robinia Bunce and her son Pogo, and her little daughter Heather came along, as did Jack Twofoot and Hom Greenhand and his cousin Hob, who was visiting from Tighfield. And Bilbo's Bolger cousins, Herugar and Rudivar were there as well. All in all, it was a sizeable and jolly party that came in from the cold.

Once the hobbits had put themselves outside sizeable portions of soup and bread and cheese and fruit, the adults left the parlour to the young folk while they sat about the kitchen sipping tea.

The young folk played at riddles for a while, and then Jack brought out his flute, and there was some dancing, until they nearly upset the tea table.  As it had been an unplanned party, the guests began to fade away quietly before teatime, so as not to impose upon their hosts. Robinia lingered long enough to help Belladonna with the washing up; Bilbo and Pogo helped their mothers while Bungo straightened up the parlour, being careful not to waken Heather who was only five and had fallen asleep on the hearthrug. Finally they, too, left.

Alone again, the Baggins family took their ease before the fire, both Bungo and Bilbo engrossed in books, and Belladonna with her knitting.  Supper was a simple affair of toasted cheese before the fire, accompanied by leftover soup.

The next morning dawned, and with it somewhat warmer weather, though the wind was still  damp and chill, the snow had begun to melt. In only a few days, there was no sign of the snow at all, just the usual drear of late autumn.

"See now," said the gossips in The Ivy Bush, " 'twas just a freak snow after all, and not a sign o' bad times."

But Farmer Button remembered his talk with Squire Baggins. The harvest had been lean, and it was a long time 'till Spring. He sipped his ale and kept his own counsel.

  Chapter 10: When Winter First Begins to Bite

17 Blotmath, S.R. 1311

Bilbo huddled in his bed, covers pulled up over his head. He burrowed into his pillows and did his best to ignore the smell of first breakfast and the rumblings of his stomach. He was not going to first breakfast, and that was that!

"Bilbo?" he heard his mother's soft voice at his door.

"Tweens often sleep late in the mornings, my love," said his father.

"I suppose." His mother's voice sounded dejected.

Silence. Bilbo hoped they would go on and eat first breakfast. He concentrated on the dreary sound of the rain on his window in the hopes of falling asleep again. But his mind kept drifting back to the last few days...

It had started about six days earlier, with the first of the nasty late autumn rains began. He could not ever recall them being so early, so chill and so persistent before, and from the things he overheard the adults saying, neither could they. Every one of those six days had been alike: rain, rain, rain, the livelong day, interspersed with thunder and lightning, and nights so cold that more than once during that time they'd awakened to the sparkle of thin ice coating the garden and making the flagstone path perilous. Then the rain began again and the ice would melt away. Bilbo wished it would turn to snow-- at least snow was pretty.

Bilbo had been cooped up in the smial with his parents far more than was usual for him. At first it had been rather fun: reading the day away, playing draughts with his father, and helping his mother cook. But as day after dreary day continued, Bilbo found it harder and harder to concentrate on reading or anything else. And he began to notice his parents having furtive conversations that broke off when they became aware that he was near.

"No, Bella, braving the rain to go into Hobbiton will be of no use. None of the shops have..." his father stopped speaking abruptly when he spotted Bilbo's curious expression.

Later on, as he had helped his mother in the kitchen, he had offered to fetch something from the larder.

"No, son!" she had said sharply. "I will get it!"

Bilbo felt hurt at her tone. He had only been trying to help!

But it had not been until yesterday that the puzzle became clear.

It had started at elevenses-- somewhat more meagre than their usual fare, tea, scones, an apple cut up and arranged on a plate. Bilbo had been hungry enough to start in eating right away, when he noticed his parents were only having cups of tea.

"We aren't very hungry, son!" said his father. "You finish it. No use letting it go to waste."

Luncheon had been vegetable-barley soup; Bilbo noticed his parents were eating very slowly. He had finished seconds, and they were still only half finished with their first serving. He was beginning to have some very nasty suspicions.

Tea had been much like elevenses, though supper was a rather more ordinary meal. Still, Bilbo could not help but notice that his parents were giving themselves much smaller servings, and his own food began to taste like ashes in his mouth.

He recalled a hastily hushed-up conversation between his father and cousin Fosco last summer: "a five-meal winter, or even a four-meal..." He realised now that he knew what it meant.

His parents were stinting themselves so that he would have more to eat.

He couldn't. He just couldn't let them do it. Yet it was clear they would, whether he willed or nilled.

Well, if they could sacrifice their elevenses and their tea, he could sacrifice first breakfast at least.

And so he lay here now, determined not to rise until they had the chance to eat a proper breakfast. If he rose too soon, he'd just find they'd put it by for him.

After a while the steady drum of the rain did lull him back to sleep...

And so began a new routine. Bilbo began to sleep in long enough for his parents to breakfast without him, and elevenses and tea continued to be very brief and unsustaining meals. And the rain kept up for three more days.

20 Blotmath, S.R. 1311

When the rain ceased, the cold became even more bitter.  Ice had formed everywhere.

That night, Bilbo was awakened by the sound of a loud crack! followed by a crashing sound. A few minutes later, there was a series of loud cracks, all sounding like nothing so much as old Gandalf's Midsummer fireworks! Bilbo rose from his bed and looked out his window, but could see nothing in the dark, and most certainly no signs of fireworks in the sky.

He went back to bed, and tried to sleep, but he was jerked awake several times by more of the loud sounds. He sat up and got out of bed, pulling on his dressing gown as he went, and lighting his bedside candle he took it with him into the hallway-- where he found his father, coming towards him.

"Go back to bed, son. I just looked out the door, and with no Moon or stars out tonight, there is nothing to see from the doorstep. And it's far too cold and slippery to go further in this weather."

"Do you know what it could be, Papa?"

Bungo shook his head. "I've no idea. All I know is, it is not fireworks."

So his father had noticed what it sounded like also. But it was not very reassuring to hear him admit ignorance. Reluctantly he went back to bed.

He could not sleep. He was hungry. Normally he would have gone to the kitchen and made himself some tea and toast or something. But that was not to be thought of now. He tossed and turned for what seemed like hours. He was wide awake when the light began to stream in through the window, and he rose and padded across the cold floor to see what the night had wrought.

He blinked in astonishment. Everywhere was the glitter of ice; in some parts of the garden it looked like snow, but he could tell it was not. The large oak in the front garden looked as though it had been struck by lightning-- it was split asunder, but there was no charring such as a lightning strike would bring. The chestnut that had stood by the front gate had massive limbs broken and dangling, and one branch nearly as large as a small tree of itself, lay upon the ground!  

There was no question of skipping first breakfast today. He dressed rapidly, and found his parents also dressed and preparing breakfast. It was porridge, and he made no comment on the fact that it was unaccompanied by toast and butter, or sausages or eggs. They had tea, and some brambleberry preserves to put in the porridge instead of honey.

After breakfast, Bilbo and his father bundled up as warmly as they could, and ventured out.  They walked carefully alongside the path instead of on its icy surface and went to examine the tree.

"It is a shame," said Bungo "It was very large and old. I was careful to make sure the trees were preserved when we planned Bag End, and your mother was especially fond of this one."  They began to walk about their property-- most of the trees had lost limbs and their crowns had been destroyed. Fortunately, the rooftree, also an oak, was not too badly damaged although it too, had lost a few sizable branches.

"What caused this?" Bilbo asked.

" 'Twas the weight of the ice what broke the limbs," said a voice behind them. "That and the sap a-freezing inside the wood."

Bilbo and Bungo turned to see their gardener, Tam Goodchild. He was surveying the broken trees with his hands on his hips and an affronted expression. He shook his head. "Ah well, " 'Tis an ill wind as blows no good", as the old saw goes. Looks like there will be a mort of firewood hereabouts. And if winter goes on as it's begun, we'll be a-needing it."

The three of them made their way to the road, and headed down Bagshot Row, where they were joined by others: the Twofoots, the Rumbles, the Goodchilds, Cousin Fosco, Uncle Bodo…

That day, and several days after, Bilbo spent alongside his father and the other male hobbits of Hobbiton chopping and splitting firewood. There was no difference made in this emergency between the gentry and the working hobbits, save that the working hobbits accomplished more, being more accustomed to such tasks. Bilbo found himself most often working alongside Jack Twofoot, Hom Greenhand, his cousins Herry Bolger and Tolo Goodbody, and Tam's sons Timmon and Tomba, most often called Tim and Tom. They were kept busy splitting the wood the older hobbits had cut into hearth-sized lengths. Younger lads and old gaffers bundled the smallest of the broken branches into kindling.

Mothers and sisters came to bring hot tea and food out to the workers. The hot tea, though weak, was plentiful; the food was not. Elevenses and tea were no longer mealtimes, and the tweens especially felt the pinch. Yet none of them ever suggested raiding a larder. That would be to take the food from someone else's mouth. In bountiful times such a thing was just a lark; now it would be cruel.

Bilbo and his father returned home each night weary and hungry, to take their supper (consisting now almost exclusively of soup) and then to fall into an exhausted stupor until the morning light. Their hands went from blistered to calloused in record time.

Day by day, the damaged trees and broken limbs were transformed into tidy stacks of firewood; soon every cot and smial in Hobbiton had been provided with at least a cord of wood, even those who had no trees on their property shared in the bounty, for there was plenty to go around, and many of those who received the wood had done the labour to cut and split it. Finally, after one last weary day, the last of the wood from the ice storm was split and stacked.

28 Blotmath, S.R. 1311

The next morning dawned bright-- the Sun shone even more brightly than was her usual wont into Bilbo's window, and he rose to look out.

Snow. Snow much deeper than the snow that had briefly fallen last month, when he had been so excited, when they had so much fun.

But Bilbo felt no exhilaration or excitement now. Only dread. Winter had well and truly begun.

_____________

(A/N: My own first experience of an ice storm was the second winter after we had moved here, in early 2008, when my husband and I were awakened by a series of sounds like explosions or gunfire. We were shocked to discover that the sounds were actually the sounds of trees breaking. The resulting devastation of the trees was much like what we had seen after Hurricane Katrina! We had no idea that mere ice would wreak such havoc!)

  Chapter 11: When Pools Are Black and Trees Are Bare

3 Foreyule, S.R. 1311

 Bilbo huddled beneath several blankets. He had thought that he would get used to being hungry in the morning by now, but his stomach kept on protesting anyway. He and his parents had been cooped up together in Bag End for five days now, venturing out no further than the woodpile.

His mother's temper had been unusually short, and his father had been wrapped in gloom. Bilbo was beginning to feel bored, and wanted nothing so much as to get out! Yet there was nothing to get out for. The shops had little to sell, and other families and friends were cooped up as well. Visiting would be an imposition, with provender so short.

He glanced out the window. It looked as though it might be late enough that he could get up without interrupting his parent's first breakfast. He slid out of bed, washed quickly in the icy cold water in his basin, and dressed as quickly as he could. Then he padded down the passages to the kitchen. They were still at the table, sipping tea. Bilbo poured himself a cup and sat down with them.

"Shall I get you some porridge, son?" asked Drogo.

"No thank you, Papa. I will wait until second breakfast." His father nodded. Bilbo was pretty sure his parents had guessed what he had been doing, just as he had guessed what they had been doing. But so long as no one said anything about it, there was no reason that it could not continue until things were better. And they just had to get better, thought Bilbo desperately.

He was sipping slowly at his tea, which had one saving grace: it was hot, and warmed him from the inside out, when there came a rapid knocking at the kitchen door. The three of them looked at one another in surprise: who could it be at this hour? Bungo rose and opened the door. It was Posey Twofoot.

She rushed in. "Mrs. Baggins! Can you come down to Greenbriars? It looks as if Mrs. Ruby will have her babe today--my mum's there-- and she sent for you!" Mrs. Twofoot was one of Hobbiton's midwives, but more to the point, she lived near Greenbriars.

"Oh my!" Bilbo's mother got up at once. "Come in, Posey, and warm up while I get dressed and ready!"

"We will all go, dear," said Bungo. "I don't fancy you walking down the Hill in this icy weather, but Bilbo and I will come and help you along! I am sure that Fosco would appreciate my presence at a time like this, and Bilbo can perhaps, help keep the little ones occupied and out of the way!"

Posey waited as the family got ready, and then Belladonna returned to the kitchen and took out a basket. She loaded it with jars of soup, a loaf of bread that had been planned for their luncheon, and a few other items.

"What are you doing, Bella?" Bungo asked.

"We are likely to be there most of the day, dear. And I don't like to think we would be a strain on their larder; they have little ones to feed, after all."

Soon they were all bundled up. Posey offered to carry the basket, so that Bungo and Bilbo could walk on either side of Belladonna. They went out the kitchen door, for the front walk was treacherously icy, and began the walk down the hill. Bilbo had walked down the Hill all his life. When his grandparents had still lived at Greenbriars, he had gone down there several times a week to visit them; this past summer he'd been down there almost every day as the smial was being worked on. Summer seemed so long ago now. Just then he almost stumbled as he put a foot wrong into a drift that was deeper than it looked. He pulled his mother a little off balance as well, and that more than anything, brought him out of his thoughts.

"Bilbo!" his father said sharply, "Take care!"

"I'm sorry, Papa!" He paid much more attention to his footing. He would never forgive himself if he caused his mother to fall!

They walked along the verge, rather than in the road, for the road was a mess of ice and mud. It took them twice as long as usual, and Bilbo was ever so glad to see the smial come into view. Bungo took the basket from Posey, and turned to knock on the door.

Fosco had been anxiously watching for them, and they were barely upon the step before he opened the door. "Mrs. Twofoot is with her, Belladonna." Bella and Posey went straight back. Posey was also her mother's apprentice.

Bungo and Bilbo stood there looking awkwardly at Fosco. Then Bungo said, "We brought a few things..."

"Yes, yes, of course, thank you," Fosco was nearly babbling. "We'll take them to the kitchen..."

Fosco led the way as though Bungo and Bilbo did not know perfectly well where the kitchen was. Bilbo was surprised to see Dora and Drogo in their places at the kitchen table. Drogo had an obviously empty bowl, but he was running his finger around it, and then licking it and then looking at it sadly. Dora had her hands folded on the table, and her eyes were anxious.

She looked up as they came in. "We stayed right here, Papa, just like you said. We didn't move or anything. Drogo was good, too."

"Oh, Dora!" Her father looked stricken, and Bilbo suddenly realised that Cousin Fosco had forgotten that he'd told Dora and Drogo to stay in the kitchen.

Drogo put the bowl down, and his face lit up. "Bilbo!"

"Hullo, Drogo," Bilbo replied, ruffling the faunt's hair. He looked over at Fosco. "Why don't I take Dora and Drogo to their room for a while, Cousin Fosco?"

Fosco looked very relieved, and Bungo nodded proudly at his son. Bilbo took the two children by the hand and led them back to the nursery.

"What shall we play?" Bilbo asked. "Do you want to play farm, Drogo?"

The little one shook his head.

"Why don't I read you a story, then?"

"Will you hold me, Bilbo?"

"Yes, Drogo. Dora, why don't you pick out the story book?"

She dipped her head and bit her lip. "You didn't say 'please', Cousin Bilbo."

Bilbo did not know whether to laugh or be annoyed, but she looked so serious. So he said "So I didn't! Please, Dora, would you pick out a story book?"

She nodded, and went over to the shelf. The story was about a little lamb that got lost from its flock, and how all the other sheep looked for it. Bilbo sat in the rocking chair by the nursery hearth with Drogo on his lap and Dora sitting on a cushion at his feet.

"Once there was a Little White Lamb who loved to run and play in the meadow with the other sheep. She liked to eat the daisies and the clover in the meadow, and to drink from the clear stream that ran down from the hills.

Most of the time she minded her Mama Sheep and Shepherd and Dog, and stayed with the flock. But one day she saw something fluttering in the air, and flying from flower to flower. It was a big yellow butterfly, and she had never seen one before. So curious was she about this strange creature that she tried to follow it-- and follow it she did, down the hill and across the stream she ran. But she did not understand that the butterfly could go where she did not, and she suddenly found herself tumbling over a ledge into a little gully...

....Dog barked and barked and barked, and Mama sheep bawled and bawled. Soon Shepherd came running. He saw the Little White Lamb in the gully, and he laid down upon the ledge and used his crook to bring her up. She was so happy to see her Mama Sheep, and her mother was happy to have her back. All the other sheep were glad as well. Dog rounded them up, and Shepherd led them all towards home."

Bilbo started to close the book, but Drogo put out a chubby little finger, onto the picture of the happy sheep.

"I want Mama."

"I know you do, Drogo, but she can't see you right now. She is very busy."

The faunt looked up at him, and then burst into tears, clinging to Bilbo and weeping into his shirt. Bilbo held him close and patted his back and made soothing noises and wished there was a grown-up nearby to tell him what to do. But Papa was busy trying to make Cousin Fosco feel better, and Mama was in with Cousin Ruby and Mrs. Twofoot. Dora stood by and gazed at him solemnly. There were tears in her eyes as well, but she was blinking them away and trying to be a "big lass" as her father had told her.

Perhaps if she had something to do it would make her feel better.

"Dora, could you fetch me a wet flannel to wash Drogo's face?"

She nodded. Her brown eyes were huge in her pale face, and Bilbo felt his heart wrench as he realised how thin she was. She went out of the room for a few minutes, and Bilbo shifted Drogo around and began to rock back and forth, the way he remembered his own mother doing for him when he was little and upset. Soon Dora came back and offered Bilbo the damp flannel, and Bilbo began to wash the little tear-stained face. "Thank you, Dora," he said.

"You're welcome, Cousin Bilbo." She continued to stand there and just stare at him and Drogo.

Bilbo was glad that the doors of Greenbriar were nice thick ones, for though he wished he knew what was happening, he was just as glad as not that he couldn't really hear what was going on. He wondered how much longer it would continue, and what they would do with the children if anything bad happened.

Just then, to his immense relief, the nursery door opened, and his mother came in-- and she was smiling.

"Dora, Drogo?" said Belladonna gently. "You have a new baby brother!"

"Can we see him? Is Mama all right?" asked Dora.

"Your mother is asleep. She was very tired, for it is hard work to bring a baby into the world. And so is your new brother. Little Dudo also had to work hard to be born. You must let them rest. Why don't we all go into the kitchen and have some tea."

"But we can't have tea, Aunt Bella!" exclaimed Dora. "Papa says we must make the food last."

"This is a special day, dear," Belladonna replied. "I am sure that your Papa won't mind. He will probably join us and have a little, too!"

Belladonna made some tea, and heated up some of the soup that she'd brought. Bilbo looked at Dora and Drogo's thin and pinched faces, pale from being cooped up inside, and their eyes too large.

He looked up at his mother. "I'll just have a little tea, Mama. I am more thirsty than hungry."

Belladonna's eyes sparked with tears, but also pride. "I see, Bilbo-lad. Very well."

It truly was a long day. After they had eaten, Bilbo went back to the nursery with the children, and settled between them on the large bed, to encourage them to nap. Soon they all three fell into an exhausted sleep.

It was quite late in the day when Belladonna went in to wake them up. Fosco took the two little ones to see their mother and meet their new brother, and Bungo, Belladonna and Bilbo saw themselves out.

The walk up the Hill was not so treacherous as the walk down had been. They stopped briefly, halfway up, and Bilbo looked out over Hobbiton. The Water was black and still, and the trees were black and bare against the white of the snow. Save for the smoke here and there coming through the chimney pots, one could scarcely see any of the smials and cots of the village.

Bungo asked his wife: "How is Cousin Ruby? And the baby?"

Belladonna looked solemn, and did not meet his eyes. "Ruby's not well; she didn't eat enough the last few weeks. She's weak, and so is little Dudo. I think they will both live, and so does Mrs. Twofoot, but it is going to be difficult for both of them."

"Dudo?" asked Bilbo. "Is that his name?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad he will live. I hope that things will get better soon." He sighed. "It will be Yule soon.  Things have to get better for Yule!"

He did not see the sad look his parents exchanged behind his back.

Chapter 12: The World Was Grey

12 Foreyule, S.R. 1311

Thwack!

The log split neatly in two, and Bilbo set up another one. He'd offered to split firewood this morning while his parents went down to Greenbriars to check on Cousin Ruby and the new baby. He knew his mother was very worried by how weak they both still were, though she said thankfully they were getting no worse.

Truthfully Bilbo had wanted to do this. He was feeling so very weary of being kept indoors, and the exercise felt good.

It had snowed again in the night, just enough to put a smooth white layer atop the slushy mess from a few days before. The sky was clear for a change-- the blue was a welcome relief from the grey gloom of the past few weeks.

Thwack!

He hit the log as hard as he could. This one did not split quite so neatly as the last, but it was acceptable. He chucked the two pieces into his growing pile and set up another. He wanted to have it done by luncheon when his parents got home.

Thwack!

He had not really wished to go down this morning. It was so hard to look at poor little Dora and Drogo, who were so hungry. He was hungry, too, but they were so young. He grabbed another piece of wood.

Thwack!

It wasn't fair! It just wasn't fair!

Thwack!

The angrier he got, the faster the wood split. Finally, out of breath, he reached for another piece, and there wasn't one. He had split all that his father had told him to do.

He began to gather it up and stack it near the kitchen door, so that it would be handy to bring in. He was no longer angry. He just felt drained and hungry. He looked at the sky, and realised his parents would soon be home. He finished stacking the wood neatly, and then went indoors, where he divested himself of his hat, his scarf, his coat, his jacket and his leggings. Then he began to prepare lunch so that his parents wouldn't have to when they got home. Truthfully there wasn't a lot to do: heat up the soup left from supper the night before, make a few plain ash cakes on the hearth, and put the teakettle on to boil.

Soon enough he heard the door open and his parents came into the kitchen.

"Oh, thank you, son!" his mother said proudly. "I am so glad you got lunch ready!" She gave him a hug and a kiss on top of his head.

His father glanced out the kitchen door briefly. "You did a good job on the woodpile, too, Bilbo!"

Bilbo flushed with pleasure. "Thank you, Papa!"

The little family sat round the kitchen table with their meagre (by hobbit standards) meal.

"I am glad you didn't come with us today, Bilbo. Dora and Drogo are both down with the sniffles." said Belladonna. "Mrs. Twofoot fears it may be catarrh. She isn't sure, and Mistress Rose can't get up to Greenbriars-- she can't even get into town." Mistress Rose Cotman was the Hobbiton healer, but she and her husband lived at the edge of town, and their smial was snowed in.

"I am going to try and get a group of hobbits together to dig her out. It's not a good thing for our healer to be trapped and unable to see her patients," said Bungo. "But in the meantime, I hope that it is not catarrh and does not spread. That's the last thing we need."

"Well, I won't have Bilbo exposed to it, at any rate." Belladonna stated firmly.

Talk turned to other matters. Little Dudo seemed to be strengthening a little at last, and Cousin Ruby had also begun to rally. No snow today was also a hopeful sign...

17 Foreyule, S.R. 1311

The sunny days had not lasted. Yesterday there had been another snowfall, this one deep enough to snow them in at the front door, though the wind had kept it from piling up at the kitchen door. Bag End seemed quieter than it ever had before, all muffled and silent. The snow outside Bilbo's window came nearly to the top. It was an eerie feeling.

In fact, he could not even hear his parents stirring, or smell the porridge cooking. Was it too early? Or was it too late? He could not tell by the light, nor even by his stomach, for he'd begun to grow used to the feeling of hunger all the time. Perhaps it was much earlier than he thought, yet this time of year the Sun rose late. He rose from his bed and put on his dressing gown, and went out into the passage, where he stopped in front of his parents' door.

He had just started to raise his hand to knock when the door opened. His father stood there in his nightshirt looking weary and haggard, holding an empty teacup. Then there was a sneeze from the bed, where his mother lay, a huddled lump of blankets and no part of her visible.

Bilbo took the teacup from his father and sniffed it. "Willow-bark? Is she all right?"

"She has been sneezing and feverish most of the night, son. I think she may have caught Dora and Drogo's sniffles." Bungo took his own dressing gown down from the peg on the back of the door and wrapped it around himself. "You and I will let her rest today, and have breakfast together."

Bilbo followed his father back down the passage reluctantly. He wanted nothing more than to fly to his mother and be sure she was all right. But his father was right-- she needed her rest.

Bilbo and Bungo each had a small bowl of porridge and some water for breakfast. Afterwards, Bungo made a tray with a cup of real tea and a piece of toast, and took it to Belladonna. Bilbo did the washing up, such as it was, from breakfast and then went to get himself dressed.

"It's a good thing you stacked the woodpile well, son," Bungo said. "We shan't be going far for the next few days. If it snows more we'll do well to get out the back door. I am going to bring the shovel in from the garden shed and put it in the kitchen. It won't do us much good if we can't get to it in order to use it."

Bilbo nodded, and watched his father bundle up and go carefully out the back door. He poked his head out, and there was the woodpile near to hand. He put his own coat, scarf and hat on, and stepped out into bitter cold. It took several trips, as he could not carry much at one time, but he filled the woodbox in the kitchen and the basket by the hearth in the parlour, and he brought in another couple of armloads so that his father could put them in the bedroom to keep the fire in their room going. They'd been forgoing such fires, but his mother would need the warmth if she were sick!

The day passed slowly. The hole was neat as a pin already, and there was not much to do. Bungo checked on Belladonna frequently, but refused to allow Bilbo to do so-- "There is no point in you getting a cold as well, son," he said.

Lunch consisted of cheese sandwiches. They were already skipping elevenses and tea now. Bilbo made supper: potato soup. There was no milk or butter, but there were plenty of onions and dried herbs, and it seemed a nice change from the vegetable soup they had been having. As a treat, Bungo brought out two of the apples from the cold cellar and baked them in the embers. He and Bilbo divided one, and he took the other to Bella.

Bilbo went back into the parlour where he and his father had been playing draughts much of the afternoon, and sat down with a book. It had always been one of his favorites, an account of one of the Brandybucks' travels in Bree, but it could not hold his interest at all.

After a while his father came back. "I'm sorry, son, but I am very tired and have a headache. I'm going to bed-- don't stay up too late, and remember to bank the fire."

"Yes, Papa."

"Good-night, son," said Bungo. And then he sneezed.

"Good-night, Papa," said Bilbo, and he felt a shiver of fear. What would he do if both of his parents fell ill?

22 Foreyule, S.R. 1311

Bilbo had never been so tired in his life. The first few days of his parents' illness he had brought endless cups of tea and tumblers of water and mugs of broth to them; as for himself, he had made a pot of pease porridge, and that had served him for every meal until this morning. He ate stale bread for breakfast, and decided that he'd make another pot of potato soup for his supper and his parents'.

Between times, he dozed fitfully in the chair beside their bed, or made occasional trips to the woodpile by the back door. They were running short of wood there, and he knew that perhaps in another day he'd have to shovel his way out to the big woodpile and fetch more. He wasn't sure he'd be strong enough to split so much as he had before-- he was so weary!

His mother suddenly was taken with a fit of coughing; it was long and hard and frightened Bilbo very much. She sat up, coughing and struggling to catch her breath. Bilbo turned her pillow, and helped her to settle back against it. She was so feverish! He went to the washstand and wrung out another flannel in cold water to place upon her brow. She turned to Bilbo and held out a shaking hand to him. "I'm so sorry, son...so sorry..."

Bilbo pressed a kiss on the hand and tucked it back under the covers. "It's all right, Mama, it will be all right." And he fought back tears and hoped as hard as he could hope that he was not telling a lie.

Then his father began to cough. His coughing, if anything was harder and worse than that of his mother. Bungo was sweating and shivering and trying to throw off the covers. He did not even seem to know Bilbo, and was muttering under his breath. Finally Bilbo got him settled as well, and his father passed into a fitful and restless sleep. Once he was sure that both of them were finally sleeping soundly, he went to fetch more water. Thank goodness, he thought, that Bag End was a modern smial and had a pump in the kitchen, one which had so far not frozen up.

What was he going to do? Bilbo wondered. The supply of willow-bark powder was dwindling. The pile of soiled linens and handkerchiefs was growing. There was less food. There was more snow. He had not seen anyone but his parents for at least two weeks. He sometimes wondered if they were the last people in the Shire. He tried very hard to shut off the horrid and unthinkable thought that his parents might not survive their illness. What would he do? No! No, he could not, would not think about that.

Yule was supposed to be coming, but Bilbo supposed they would not have any Yule this year. This year could not turn soon enough for him!  

He trudged back to the bedroom with a pail of water, and filled the pitcher by the bed and the ewer on the washstand, and put the remaining half-a-pail next to the hearth. Then he went back to the kitchen to fetch more wood.

Exhausted, he fell back into the armchair by the bed, and tried to get some sleep. He needed to sleep so badly.

Suddenly he heard the last thing he expected to hear: a pounding at the front door of Bag End!

  Chapter 13: Over Snow by Winter Sown

22 Foreyule, S.R. 1311

Bilbo did not care who it was, so long as it was an adult. He needed help so badly. He raced down the passage to the front hall and flung open the door.

It was Tam Goodchild the gardener. Bilbo flung himself at the hobbit. "Oh! Oh, Master Tam, I am so glad to see you!"

The gardener held him back at arm's length and looked at the tween. "Master Bilbo, whatever is wrong? Where's the Squire?"

Bilbo made an effort to get hold of himself, and took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders. "Papa is ill, and so is Mama. They are dreadfully ill, Master Tam, and I don't know what to do."

"Well, I have to say as I was worrited. We all know it's not like the Squire not to be around in times of trouble. What's wrong with 'em, Master Bilbo?"

"They both began sneezing and then coughing and running a fever a few days ago. Mama had been down to Greenbriars, and she said that Dora and Drogo had the sniffles and that they feared it might be catarrh."

Tam nodded. "Mistress Rose is still holed up, but her 'prentice Sage Rumble was visiting her family during the snowfall. It's catarrh, and there are a lot of hobbits here in town down with it. I was up here to shovel the walk down to the lane, for I feared that you were all snowed in up here. From the looks of it, I weren't far wrong."

"We are more or less clear at the back, Master Tam," said Bilbo. "I've been able to get to the woodpile and back to the house, but we've been snowed in at the front for several days. I only had to dig a little at the back-- Papa remembered to bring the shovel in the house before he got sick."

"Mr. Bungo is a right clever hobbit, and long-sighted as well. D' you want me to look in on your folks now?"

"If you please, Master Tam." Bilbo said anxiously.

The gardener wiped his feet well on the mat, and followed Bilbo back to the Master's room. Bilbo opened the door cautiously. His mother was half-sitting against the pillows, her arm across her face, but she was not asleep. Bungo was asleep, however.

"Mama, Master Tam is here."

"Oh, thank goodness!" she whispered hoarsely. She began to cough again, and Bilbo rushed over to pour her a tumbler of water. After a few sips, she took a breath, and Bilbo was alarmed to hear her wheezing. "Has the snow cleared?"

"No, Mistress; but some o' us managed to clear part o' the lane and a few o' the paths. Me nephew from Bywater was able to get in wi' a sledge and a few supplies. Mistress Rose is still snowed in; we're a-going to try to get her clear tomorrow. Miss Sage is clear-- she's a-staying down at Number 5 Bagshot Row with her cousins."

Bungo began to cough. If anything, his coughing and wheezing sounded worse than Belladonna. Bilbo went around to him with another tumbler of water, and was alarmed at how feverish his father's brow was. Bungo moaned and began coughing again.

"Mama," he said seriously, "I am going down to Number 5, and see about fetching Miss Sage up here." Miss Sage wasn't yet a healer, yet she was nearing the end of her apprenticeship, and seemed a very practical and competent sort.

" 'Tis a good idea, Master Bilbo," said Tam with approval. "Mistress, I'll finish clearing the walk and also in the back, and see to splitting some more wood and a-bringing it up. Master Bilbo tells me that you are almost out."

"Thank you, Tam," she said. She turned to Bilbo. "Be careful, son, and bundle up well-- the last thing we need is for you to get sick as well."

Once more Bilbo struggled into leggings, jacket, coat, scarf, hat, gloves, and this time, he added his cloak.

The cold nearly took his breath away. At least the front walk was clear. The lane, as Tam had said, had been partly cleared. Bagshot Row was down the Hill in the other direction from Greenbriars. Bilbo began to walk down that way, but as he went, it began to snow again, at first a few flurries, but then quickly it began to swirl around him enough to slow his pace and make it hard for him to see. However, it was not far to Number 5, and even in the swirling snow its bright red door was easy to spot. He pounded on the door, and soon it was opened by little Barty Rumble, whose eyes went wide. "Master Bilbo!" he gasped.

"Barty, is your cousin Sage here?"

The child nodded, eyes wide. Then he turned and in a bellow that belied his small size yelled: "SAGE!"

Sage and Mrs. Rumble came from the kitchen. "What on earth are you a-hollering at, Hobart Rumble?" asked his mother sternly, and then her own eyes went wide at the sight of Bilbo standing there, the door still wide open.

"Oh, Master Bilbo! Do come in! Barty, close the door, you're letting in all the snow!"

Bilbo stepped into the smial and it was with no small relief that he left the snow behind as Barty shut the door. "Miss Sage, my parents are both very ill. When Master Tam told me that you were here, I thought I would see if you could come down and take a look at them. I know Mistress Rose is still snowed in, you see, and well-- I'm dreadfully worried about them. I think it may be catarrh. Before she got ill, Mama said that it was going around."

Sage nodded. "It wouldn't surprise me, Master Bilbo, not at all. It has been going around. That's part o' why I'm here. I come to see Tam's children who was taken with it before the last big snow hit; as they was in Number 3, it seemed only right that I come next door to stay with kin. They are all better now, though."

That brought Bilbo up short. "It's snowing again! Perhaps we won't be able to get back up to Bag End!"

Barty ran up to the window. "It's almost stopped again, Master Bilbo."

"I think we can make it, Master Bilbo," Sage said. "Let me get my satchel with what I'll need, and bundle up. We'll head up the Hill right away."

It did not take them long, and soon Bilbo found himself back in the dwindling snowflakes, Miss Sage at his side. All the progress made on the road had been erased by the snow. The new layer of snow was not deep, but it was enough to hide the road once more, as well as any small potholes and icy patches. They did not speak as they needed to be careful of placing each step. The snow had stopped by the time the gate to Bag End's front path came in view.

Bilbo pushed open the door, and they entered the hall, along with a few stray snowflakes. He took Miss Sage's cloak, and hung it on one of the pegs by the door, before he began taking off his own cloak and coat. They wiped their feet upon the mat, and then Bilbo led her back to his parents' room.

Miss Sage looked about with interest. She had never been inside Bag End before, and she had often heard what a splendid hole it was. It certainly seemed so to her now, but she had little time to appreciate it as Bilbo opened the door to the room and led her to her patients.

Both appeared to be sleeping, and rather than wake them right away, she drew off the pendulum she wore about her neck. Her pendulum was a disk carved with a design of knots and made of bone. It was pierced at the top and strung upon a cord of silk. Her father had carved it for her when he learned she was to become an apprentice healer, and whenever she used it, she was reminded of her parents' pride in her.

She began with Mistress Belladonna. Taking a calming breath to center herself as she had been taught, she dangled the pendulum above Mistress Belladonna, beginning with her feet, and moving up her body slowly and methodically. Sage observed the patterns the pendulum made, swinging back and forth sometimes, sometimes in a circular motion-- and sometimes, especially as Sage reached the chest and lung area, erratically. She frowned.

Then she walked around the bed, and began to repeat the process on the Master. She was alarmed to realise that the erratic swinging was even more pronounced in his case. Before she quite finished, he suddenly was wracked with a bout of coughing. He sat up abruptly. The cough sounded wet, and he was wheezing mightily as he tried to draw in his breath between coughs. He blinked, and looked blearily at her through watery red eyes. "Do I know you?" he rasped.

Bilbo, who had been standing right behind her, said "It's Miss Sage Rumble, Mistress Rose's apprentice, Papa."

"At your service, Mr. Baggins." She dropped the pendulum cord back around her neck and drew out her listening tube. "Can you lean forward a little, sir?" she asked.

Bungo nodded, then closed his eyes briefly. "Dizzy," he whispered. He leaned forward, and Sage put the wide end of the tube against his back, and her ear to the other end.

She listened for a few seconds, then put her hand to his head. He was slightly feverish. "Master Bilbo, you told me that you gave your parents willow-bark tea. When did you do that last?"

"About four hours ago, Miss Sage. Was that the right thing to do? I've been giving them as much as I can."

"Oh, yes, Master Bilbo, willow-bark is good for fever. But it's probably about worn off now. I think his fever's going up again."

Belladonna had wakened now, and Miss Sage introduced herself and went back to the other side to examine her more closely as well.

She stood back and looked at both of her patients, who were gazing up at her with the exhausted and unquestioning gaze of the truly sick. She reached into her satchel and pulled out a cloth bag.  "Master Bilbo, this is willow-bark with a few other herbs mixed in that will be good for your parents. You take it and go fix them up some tea with this. Use about the same amount as you would with just the willow-bark. Add a little honey, too, if you still have any."

Relieved at having something to do, Bilbo went into the kitchen to prepare it. As soon as he left, she looked at Bungo and Belladonna seriously. "Mr. and Mrs. Baggins, I think you know you have had catarrh; but it's only become worse. You've both developed the lung sickness. Both of you are very ill, and I think you are worse off than the young master can handle."

Belladonna burst into tears. "He's taken such good care of us, Miss Sage; he's a good son."

Bungo somehow mustered up the strength to put an arm around his wife. "He is. But Miss Sage is right. Yet I do not know what we can do about it in this dreadful weather. I do not know who we could find that could come. I am sure many have this illness in their own holes."

"Could Mr. Fosco help out?"

Belladonna shook her head sadly. "Not with the young ones depending on him. I am sure that Ruby is not well enough yet to keep the children alone."

Just then Bilbo came back in with the tea tray. Miss Sage took it from him and placed it on the table by the bed and passed the cups to his parents.

"Papa, Tam chopped us some more wood, and he wants to know what else he can do to help? He came into the kitchen while I was in there."

Bungo blinked. His mind was foggy, and he really did not know what to answer. Sage could tell by his blank expression. "I'll have a word with him, Master Bilbo. I know of a few useful things he can do. You sit here until I come back and make sure they drink all their tea!" She gave him a reassuring smile, not missing the pale drawn face, or the dark circles under his eyes.

She strode into the kitchen, wishing mightily that her Mistress was available right now. Outwardly she was all confidence, but inwardly she was very worried. The Bagginses were very ill indeed, especialy Mr. Baggins. If they should get worse, if the worst should happen, poor little Master Bilbo should not be alone. She so wished she could consult her Mistress right now-- though she'd been told she was nearly finished with her apprenticeship, she did not feel as confident as she would if she were a full Healer. She saw Tam sitting at the table nursing his own cup of tea.

"Tam," she said without preamble, "could Missus Twofoot come up and watch with Master Bilbo for a few days?" Ivy Twofoot was Tam's sister.

He shook his head. "I reckon not, Sage. She just got over her own bout wi' the catarrh, and now Jack and Posey are down with it."

"Is the Post running yet?"

"I saw t' Postmaster while we was a-working on the road. He said barring a bad snowfall tonight, he's going to try to get a rider through to the Thain tomorrow."

Sage thought rapidly. "I'll get Master Bilbo to write a letter then, maybe we'll get some help from his Tookish relations if the weather don't worsen. And nothing for it, I'll stay here as much as I can with Master Bilbo to watch over the Squire and the Mistress. You tell my auntie what's going on, have her send me over my things. And ask about the village, see if any of the goodwives can come up and spell me ever once in a while. Sick as his mum and da are, I don't want Master Bilbo alone with them."

Tam's eyes widened as her meaning became clear.

She returned to the sick room. Bilbo had placed the empty teacups on the tray, and watched anxiously as his parents once more fell asleep, this time helped by the extra herbs that Sage had put in the tea.

"Master Bilbo, I'm going to stay for a while."

The relief on his face was palpable; if he'd had the energy, he'd have shouted out his thanks. As it was he simply nodded gratefully.

"I want you to go to bed, Master Bilbo. I'll spell you in here. But you need some real rest. And Mag tells me the Postmaster plans to try sending out a rider tomorrow to Tuckborough. When you wake up, you write a letter to your grandfather and tell him about your folks being so sick. It may take a few days, but you know the Old Took will see that things are taken care of!"

Bilbo went off to his room, never so glad in his life to shed his clothes and slip into his nightshirt, and to slide between the sheets of his bed.

Chapter 14: Tidings: An Interlude

24 Foreyule, S.R. 1311

Gandalf looked with a sense of urgent foreboding at the frozen ford. He could recall only too well the last time the Brandywine had been iced over, and this was not a good sign.

Carefully he stepped onto the ice and walked out to the middle. It was solid, as solid as could be. He returned and led the two horses across-- the one he was riding and the one carrying vital supplies, provided for him by Galadriel and her healers; then, instead of waiting and resting as he had thought he might, he set off at as goodly a pace as possible in the snow. The minute he had entered the Shire he had felt more urgency than ever. He needed to get to Tuckborough and the Great Smials as soon as he could. There was great trouble in the Shire, and they needed what he had.

He had been abiding in Lothlórien with Galadriel and Celeborn when the rumours of trouble in Eriador came to them. The first concerns of his hosts had been Imladris, of course, but the Lady had suffered him a glimpse of her mirror.

There was a brief glimpse of Two Rivers, the townspeople huddled in a large room. He saw Arador and Arathorn tending the ill…and there was Hildifons in the same room, holding a baby half his own size, trying to feed her…there were the walls of Bree, snow halfway up, the gate closed fast…there was the Shire, as covered in snow as it had been on his first journey there… there was a young hobbit curled up on a bed, weeping bitterly… he saw himself briefly approaching the Great Smials on horseback…and there was Elrond in his stillroom, seemingly giving urgent instructions to someone—he glanced up briefly, puzzled, as though aware of the unseen eyes upon him…and there he was again, mounted, his sons and many of his household behind him, riding across the Ford of the Bruinen… there were wolf prints in the snow…there was a dark cavern filled with orcs, quarreling over the places nearest a fire… there was the face of his friend Gerontius, twisted with anguish…

It had been enough to understand that while succour would be coming to the Dúnedain and the Angle, the Shire was in dire peril. Celeborn had provided the horses, and Elves to accompany him as far as West of the mountains. It had been a journey slowed by necessity and the winter that was already pouring its fury on the hapless North and making its way South, but once he had the mountains at his back, he had travelled more swiftly.  Now he was in the Shire, and he feared he was too late; he rode as quickly as he could without harming the horses.

And as he rode, he thought he heard the faint sound of horns behind him...

***** 

Isengrim looked at the letter that had arrived for his father. The post-rider from Hobbiton had been the first one to come in for weeks from anywhere in the Shire. The handwriting was clearly that of a young hobbit; it was in fact, from his nephew, Bilbo. Should he read it before giving it to his father? Gerontius had taken no interest in anything in three days-- ever since his beloved Adamanta had breathed her last. Isengrim forced back the choking sob that threatened to overwhelm him; until his father was able to think clearly once more, he was in charge, and he could not afford to grieve for his mother yet. His time would come.

Perhaps there would be something in the letter that would arouse his father from his apathy. He ran his finger under the seal and opened the letter.

"22 Foreyule, S.R. 1311
Bag End
Hobbiton

Dear Grandfather,

I am writing this letter to you because Mama and Papa are both very sick, and Miss Sage the healer's apprentice said you needed to know about it. They had catarrh and then the lung sickness and they are still very, very sick.

I am so worried about them, Grandfather. I do not know what to do. Can you help us?

I hope that things are better at the Great Smials than they are here in Hobbiton.

Your loving grandson,
Bilbo"

His heart dropped to his toes. Bella! His beloved little sister and her jolly Baggins husband were laid low; yet what help was there for them in Hobbiton when they were so beset here? It was almost more than he could bear. And poor young Bilbo, to have such a burden on his shoulders at his tender age!

Suddenly, there was a rapping at his door. "Mr. Isengrim!"

"What is it?" he asked wearily. Doubtless more bad news, he was sure.

"Mr. Isengrim! That Gandalf is here! He's here!"

And for the first time in days hope dared to enter Isengrim's heart.

***
Gerontius paid no heed to the persistent knocking at the door of his study. Whoever it was would go away eventually-- unless it was his daughter-in-law Rosa trying to make him eat again. When the door opened anyway, he thought perhaps it was her, but then...

"Oh, my old friend! I am so sorry I could not come sooner!"

The Old Took's head whipped round at the sound of his best friend's voice. "Gandalf?" he stood shakily, and stared in disbelief, for Gandalf almost always came in the summer. What was he doing here now?

In three swift strides, the wizard had crossed the room. He held out his arms, and Gerontius fell into them weeping bitterly, pouring all his grief out onto the heart strong enough to bear it. He did not resist when Gandalf sat down in the chair reserved for him, cradling Gerontius like a child.

"Weep, my old friend, for your tears will help to heal your heart."

And weep Gerontius did, until he fell asleep with weariness. But Gandalf simply held him for hours. Time enough when his friend wakened refreshed, to give him the other news, the news that Isengrim had told him of on his arrival.

He had brought the Elvish medicine too late for sweet Adamanta, but not, he hoped, to help the many others who needed it.

***** 

"FEAR! FIRE! FOES! AWAKE! AWAKE! FEAR! FIRE! FOES! AWAKE! AWAKE!"

The Horncall blasted across Buckland, picked up by one horn only to be echoed by another, the horncall to action that had not been heard in Buckland since the Old Forest had threatened the hedge so long ago!

Brandybucks came boiling out of Brandy Hall into the frosty air, Gorbadoc at their head. What could the danger be? It was winter. The wild trees of the Old Forest should be deep in slumber.

Then, faintly at first, but more gradually sounding louder between the blasts of the horns, they heard it: not the howling of the wind.

Wolves. Wolves in Buckland, and with the Brandywine frozen over, wolves headed for the heart of the Shire...

Chapter 15: A Gleam of Good Hope

First Yule, S.R. 1311

Bilbo wakened, heart pounding, from dark dreams of wandering through strange black tunnels, knowing something horrid and fearsome was pursuing him. A sound of hissing at his heels had brought him to a pitch of terror. He sat up and breathed hard. He'd been so tired when he finally went to bed the night before, it was no wonder he had bad dreams.

He wondered how his parents were. Good as her word, Miss Sage had been staying with them, spelling him, for the last few days. Mistress Rose had been dug out, only for the hobbits who freed her to discover that she was also down with the catarrh, though fortunately not a serious case; still she had sent word for her apprentice to stay put. And some of the goodwives from the village had come by for a couple of hours at a time to give both of them rest-- Aunt Robinia Bunce (though she was only a courtesy aunt and not kin) had been twice, Cousin Lily had been once, and so had Mrs. Twofoot. And the day before, even Cousin Ruby had been there briefly. She'd looked dreadful, not like she should be out and about at all in this horrid winter, but she had come anyway. Somehow she seemed to feel it was her fault that his parents were ill, perhaps because they probably had caught the catarrh from Dora and Drogo. She did not stay long-- Miss Sage made her go away again.

He got up and washed quickly in the icy water in his basin, and dressed, and padded across the passage to check on his parents.

Miss Sage welcomed him in, and he saw that they were both still sleeping. Tears filled his eyes as he saw how pale and thin their faces were.

"Go and have some breakfast, Bilbo. Blossom Twofoot came by earlier with a pan of scones; they may still be warm-- she left the pan by the kitchen hearth. After you eat, you can spell me for a while."

Bilbo found the scones were, indeed, still warm. He made himself a cup of tea, and decided it would not be too greedy to eat two of them. He was regretfully finishing up the second one when there came a sudden knocking at the front door. Who'd be here this early? he wondered. Perhaps one of his mother's friends had managed to come to help out.

It sounded like several someones on the front step, he thought. He pulled open the door and gave an exclamation of joyful surprise. "Uncle 'Gar! Uncle Isumbras!" He fell into his Uncle Isengar's embrace, "Oh, Uncle 'Gar!" He drew back to see that his Aunt Citrine, Uncle 'Gar's wife, standing behind him, and beyond that a couple of hobbits that looked only vaguely familiar. Then he gazed in astonishment at the sight of many other hobbits in the lane, mounted on ponies whose breath steamed in the frosty air.  Was that Chop's bright sorrel pony? If he was here why had he not come to the door?  But he could not be sure, the hobbits were so bundled up. There was also a sledge in the lane as well, pulled up right by the gate.

"I'm sorry! Come in out of the cold!" He stood back, and then his face flushed with embarassment. "I could make some tea, but I don't have enough scones to go around..." It was a dreadful breach of the hospitality his parents had always taught him, and he was sure they would be mortified if they knew.

Uncle Isumbras shook his head. "Don't worry about that Bilbo-lad! We've brought some food and things with us. Your Aunt Citrine has some special medicine, too, which may help your parents. Why don't you take her back there now? Then come back, for Isengar and I need to talk to you." Aunt Citrine was a healer in her own right, and Bilbo felt more relieved than he could say to have her there.

He entered his parents' room with Aunt Citrine on his heels. Miss Sage looked up in surprise at seeing a strange hobbitess there, but at the sight of Citrine's pendulum, she stood up.

"Miss Sage, this is my Aunt Citrine Took, wife to my Uncle Isengar. She's a healer and she brought some special medicine with her."

He left the two healers alone, and went back to find out what his uncles wanted to tell him.

When he followed them into the front parlour, Uncle Isengar closed the door. Uncle Isumbras gestured for him to sit, and then both of them sat down across from him on the settee. Uncle Isumbras leaned forward.

"Bilbo, I have some sad news for you..."

Bilbo felt his heart drop to his toes, and he held his breath.

"Your Grandmother Adamanta also had been ill of the catarrh and the lung sickness--" Uncle Isumbras stopped for a moment and took a deep breath of his own. "I am sorry, Bilbo, but she is gone." He stopped speaking and closed his eyes; he was very white.

Bilbo's jaw dropped, and he felt dizzy. Suddenly Uncle 'Gar was kneeling next to him, his hand on Bilbo's back.  "We've other news, too lad, and not all of it bad."

Bilbo licked dry lips and looked up. For the life of him he could not speak, but he met his uncle's eyes.

"Gandalf came a few days ago. It was too late for mother, but he brought Elvish medicine with him-- that's what your Aunt Citrine has with her, is some of that. It has helped many of those at the Great Smials who were still stricken. But we brought some of it here for your parents, and perhaps there is even enough for other hobbits here in Hobbiton who are still sick."

Bilbo felt a flicker of hope; Elvish medicine! And brought by Gandalf! Surely his own parents would be well in no time. But then he felt saddened about Grandmother Adamanta. "How-- how is Grandfather?"

"He took it very hard, lad. But Gandalf has helped."

Bilbo nodded.

"That is not all, though." Isumbras looked less sad now, but very determined. "We also got news from Buckland; the Brandywine River has frozen over. At least one large pack of white wolves has crossed over it into the Shire. That is why we have so many hobbits with us. With the Thain so sunk in grief, Isengrim has had to call the Shire muster. In this weather that means only the Tookish archers, for we've not been able to get the word out, and of them, only those who were well enough to ride with us could respond. Of forty, eight are still sick, and three have close family who are still very ill. We will see what able-bodied hobbits can join us as we ride, but Isengar and I will be heading out first thing in the morning with them. Your Aunt Citrine will stay here, of course, and help you take care of your parents."

Isengar saw the growing alarm on Bilbo's face. "Once we've dealt with the wolves, we will be back, lad."

"Where-- where are they?"

"Orgulas Brandybuck was one of those who brought us word. He said that the pack they know of crossed between the Bridge and Bucklebury. But where they went after that, we cannot say yet. We are turning East from here and hope to drive them back across the River North of the Bridge."

"Thank you for telling me about-- about everything." Bilbo felt tears welling up. Grief for his grandmother and fear for his uncles were mingled with relief and hope for his parents. "I'm sorry," he said.

Isumbras looked at him. "Come here, Bilbo." He held out his arms, drew the tween into a brief embrace, and kissed his forehead. "We Tooks stick together, lad. We'll see you safe and your parents as well."

"Yes,sir."

"Now, I think the others may have been busy in the kitchen. We brought some provender with us. Do you smell sausage?"

Indeed, he did! He could not help a smile. How long had it been since he had sausage?

After he had eaten his fill for the first time in weeks, his uncles insisted he go and rest again.

"We know you have had very little rest for a long time, Bilbo-lad," said Uncle 'Gar. "Don't worry; Citrine is with your parents, and Miss Sage is getting some rest as well."

Sated for a change, he slept far more soundly than he thought he would, right through until his aunt came to fetch him for luncheon. "Hello Bilbo," she said. "I scarcely had time to speak to you this morning. But I want to tell you how proud I am of how you took care of your mother and father-- Miss Sage told me of all you did for them before she was able to get here. I am impressed."

Bilbo flushed with pleased embarrassment. He shrugged. "It's Mama and Papa," he said simply.

"I know, lad." She grinned. "Would you like to eat with them?"

He nodded, and followed her back to his parents' room. To his surprise, both of them were sitting up against their pillows, and had a little colour in their faces. His mother was leaning against his father's arm. Her eyes were red, for clearly she had been weeping. He supposed that Aunt Citrine had broken the news about Grandmother Adamanta. But oh! it was so good to see them awake and alert and not nearly so white as the pillows they leaned against!

He went over to his mother's side of the bed. "You look much better, Mama," he said. And then burst into tears. She pulled him close, and oh, how good it felt to feel her arms around him again, and his father's hand patting the back of his head.

But after the tears were dried and faces washed, Aunt Citrine and Uncle Isengar brought in the trays, and yes, it was soup again, but not the thin watery soup they'd been eating for weeks. No, this soup was thick with vegetables. He looked at his aunt and uncle in amazement, wondering how they'd pulled off such a miracle.

Aunt Citrine laughed at his expression. "They were dried vegetables, mostly, and some preserved in crocks."

Uncle 'Gar grinned. "Thank your great-great-grandfather, Thain Ferumbras II. Ever since the Long Winter, he saw to it that the storeholes of the Great Smials were kept full with seven years worth of provisions against the lean times. Of course the habit was kept up after him."

After a while they finished eating and sat for a while exchanging the news of all that had happened, both good and bad, since winter began. Bilbo was content to listen, curled up at the foot of his parents' bed, feeling safe for the first time in ages and ages, in spite of the sadness and the news of wolves.

Second Yule, S.R. 1312

The Year had turned. There had been no feasting, no gifts, this year. Having his parents on the road to recovery was gift enough for anyone, Bilbo thought. But after supper-- more of that very delicious soup, and ashcakes and some stewed dried fruit for afters-- Uncle Isengar had carried his mother, and Uncle Isumbras and Orgulas Brandybuck (who had been one of the hobbits that accompanied his uncles) escorted Bungo very carefully, they had all gone into the parlour. Miss Sage was with them, and Inigo Proudfoot (who was Orgulas' brother-in-law), and yes! Adalgrim as well--he had been with the muster, as he was an excellent archer. He had come up to the smials later in the day, though the rest of the mustered hobbits were staying at The Ivy Bush. Bilbo had never seen Chop looking so serious. His older cousin looked as though he too had been ill. But he'd smiled at Bilbo, and ruffled his curls.

Bungo asked Uncle 'Gar to go down to the wine cellar and fetch up a bottle of Old Winyards, and even Bilbo was allowed to have some. They toasted the Turning of the Year, and they sang the New Year in (though long before it properly was in at midnight, for his parents were still not well enough to stay up so late.)

He sat between them, and as they sang:

Come now, good hobbits, be of much cheer,
And let's raise a toast to the coming New Year~
May each day dawn bright and fair,
Free from want and free from care!
May the year be short on sorrow,
And long on joy with each new morrow!
May the Shire know peace and plenty,
That no larder may go empty!
And blessed be the earth we till,
That each belly may have its fill!
May the ties of family, too,
Be strengthened by hearts warm and true!
May each hobbit have a hand to hold,
And love for all, both young and old!
Let the halls with laughter ring,
As to the New Year we gladly sing!

He had held tightly to each one's hand and closed his eyes and wished with all his heart that the song would come true this year.

But now he had risen while it was still dark, that he might farewell his uncles and cousin. How brave they were to ride out to face wolves!

The little troupe of Tookish archers had been supplemented by a few hobbits from Hobbiton who had or could borrow, ponies. He saw Mag Twofoot and Hom Greenhand and his own cousin Herry Bolger among them. They did not know archery, but like all hobbits, they were skilled with stones and slings.

He embraced his Uncle Isumbras briefly and his Uncle 'Gar he let go of reluctantly, and only because Aunt Citrine wished to say good-bye as well, and he then turned to Chop, who gave him a fierce hug before going to mount his pony. "Stay safe, Chop!" he said as he watched him leave.

Bilbo waved forlornly as the line of riders passed down the lane. They went around the curve at the bottom of the Hill and out of sight, but just as he was about to turn and go back into Bag End, he heard hoofbeats coming, and he was amazed to see a tall horse and a rider cantering swiftly after the ones who had left. For an instant he was puzzled, and then with a little leap of his heart, he realised it had to be Gandalf! If Gandalf was going with them, then surely all would be right.

He went back inside, determined to go back to bed. He had a fierce headache. Perhaps it had been the wine-- he wasn't allowed it very often.  He'd feel better by breakfast time.

 My apologies for taking so long to update! I've had some RL stress, plus some other fandom duties that cut into my writing time. Things are better now, and I hope to get back on schedule!

Chapter 16: Beware the Wolf in Darkness Born

Second Yule, S.R. 1312

His headache was not gone before breakfast. In point of fact, it was worse. And he had begun sneezing and coughing. Aunt Citrine confirmed it: he had finally come down with the catarrh himself, and he was thoroughly miserable.

Citrine and Sage discussed whether to use the special Elvish medicine on him. But his case was not yet severe. "We have a limited supply, Miss Sage," said Citrine, and it's best to save it for more serious cases. It's to be hoped that Bilbo's bout will not become that serious."

Indeed, that first day he did not even run much of a fever. And once he'd been dosed with willow-bark and other more common herbs, he slept most of the day, waking occasionally to comforting hands smoothing back the hair on his brow. Once he opened his eyes to see that it was his mother, and he choked back a sob of joy."

"Oh my lad! What's the matter?" Belladonna asked, wondering if he were in pain.

"Oh, Mama! I feared you'd never do this again. I was so worried."

She leaned over and placed a kiss on his brow. "You took such good care of your Papa and me, my love. You rest now, your worries are over."

Over the next few days, his fever and his aches grew, and Citrine and Miss Sage watched carefully lest the illness enter his lungs, for if it did that would indeed be a sign that the medicine Gandalf brought was called for. But the congestion seemed to remain in his head, which was a good sign, the healers thought. Still, he felt too sore and tired to even be bored, and he slept much of the time, save when the fever grew and made him restless. But all through that time, he felt contentment to have his mother and father hovering over him and taking care of him, feeding him broth and bringing him his tea and toast, singing to him and sitting with him when his aunt was not there. Both his parents were still very pale and weak, and both of them still had a lingering cough that troubled him. But they told him they felt much better and spoke cheerfully and lightly to him, his mother singing songs of the Tooklands, his father telling him amusing stories of long ago.

Miss Sage had returned to her mistress once they were certain she was no longer needed at Bag End, for there were still many others who were ill in Hobbiton in need of healers, and sometimes Aunt Citrine would join Miss Sage and Mistress Rose (who had recovered) when they were seeing their many patients.

Then one night Bilbo's fever grew worse; he was burning up, and he kept dreaming, this time of flames roaring at his heels, and the mocking laughter of a deep and rumbling voice. He could scarcely hear the voices of his parents, and he was throwing off the blankets which they sought to keep him under, lest he take a chill as well.

Then he felt his aching head lifted, and a cool spoon slipped between his lips. The taste was indescribable, the scent was of spring flowers and fresh breezes and a salty tang he had never smelled before--yet somehow, he knew it was the Sea...

He woke the next morning with no headache for the first time in days. His mother came in just then, bringing tea and toast. "Mama, could I have some jam with my toast?" he asked.

Indeed, she was overjoyed to bring him some strawberry jam, and even an extra piece of toast--it was the first sign of interest he had taken in his food since becoming ill.

Over the next few days, Bilbo was still not allowed out of bed, save for his father helping him take a bath--for he found he was still weak and light-headed when he tried to get up. But he was eating more, and sleeping less. And he was beginning to get very weary of his bed and the walls of his room.

11 Afteryule, S.R. 1312

Since he had begun to feel better, he'd been reading. And today his father had come to sit with him, and told him he needed to take up his lessons once more. And that if he did not run a fever tonight, he would be allowed to come into the parlour tomorrow and sit by the hearth.

Bungo had gone out to the kitchen to fetch them both a tray for their luncheon. His father was still breathing very heavily, and he moved so slowly now. Bilbo was worried. His mother and father should be much better by now, shouldn't they? He knew that both of them had been so very much more ill than he, that he had come dreadfully close to losing them both. He glanced out his window--things were still white as far as he could see.

He heard his door open--perhaps it was Papa with their luncheon? He turned and gave a gasp of surprise. It was not his Papa who stood there holding the tray, but his cousin Adalgrim.

"Chop!" he exclaimed, "you're back! And safe! Are the wolves gone? What happened? Is everyone all right?"

Adalgrim laughed. "Slow down, Bilbo! I'll answer all your questions and tell you the whole story! But let's do some justice to this fine food while it's still hot--I've ridden for hours in the snow and I could use the warmth!"

Once they had disposed of the hot vegetable soup, the bread and cheese, and were beginning to make inroads on the stewed dried fruit, Bilbo leaned back against his pillows. "So tell me what happened, Chop!"

His cousin's face sobered. "It really was not much fun; I was scared spitless, Bilbo, if you want to know the truth. But here is how it happened...

...They'd ridden out of Hobbiton, the local hobbits adding to their number; the muster now had a full forty. The road was almost clear to the edge of town, and they could ride two or three abreast until they came to the outskirts. But the road that led to Bywater was no more than ruts in the snow; they turned east, and just as they had they heard hoofbeats behind them. Isumbras raised his arm for them to halt and they'd looked back to see the tall figure of a Big Person following them on a great horse. It was Gandalf. The wizard slowed as he approached, and then his horse passed the line of ponies until he came alongside Isumbras.

"Your father thought I could be of more use with you than at the Great Smials," he said.

"How is he?" Isumbras asked.

"Grieving still, but he will heal. For now he is more worried about the wolves. He does not want to lose anyone else."

Isumbras nodded, and they moved on, forty ponies and one horse, plodding mostly single file along the road. The Sun was fully up, and she shone brightly down upon the snow-covered Shire. The sky was clear today. It was to be hoped there would be no more snow for a while.

Normally they would have reached Frogmorton by noon, but it was closer to teatime when the first signs of the village came into sight, and they were freezing and exhausted. As in Hobbiton, the main part of the road was clear, more or less, but sidestreets were still piled with snow. The cottages and smials had their front doors clear, but many of the windows were still blocked. Thin streams of smoke rose from the chimneys, but that was the only sign of life. Not a soul was to be seen outside...

The Floating Log and its stable were the only buildings completely clear of snow. The muster rode up to the front of the inn, and Isumbras dismounted, signalling the others to wait. The inn door was shut fast, and he raised a gloved hand and knocked hard on it. He waited. Then he knocked again, much harder. "Is anybody in there?" he yelled.

After another long moment, and just as he was getting ready to knock again, the door opened. It was an elderly gammer, her white hair tucked up under her cap. Her eyes and nose were red, and she looked weary.

She peered out near-sightedly. "T' inn's closed. My son is laid up sick, and we've no provisions."

"I am sorry about that, Mistress. But I am Isumbras Took, and" he gestured behind him, "the Shire muster has been called. There are wolves in the Shire and we must deal with them."

"Mercy!" she exclaimed, going even whiter than she was.

"We've brought food with us, but we could use a night in out of the cold, and drink if you have it. And," he gestured again, "we have with us Gandalf the Wizard, who brought some Elvish medicine to our aid. If your son is suffering from the catarrh, he may be able to help."

She nodded, and stepped back. "I'm that sorry, sir; come in, of course," she said. "We've ale and beer a-plenty in the cellar though some of your folk must fetch it up, for my joints won't go down the steps no more. And we've firewood as well, thanks to the ice storm, but someone will have to bring that in as well from the back. And you'll have to stable your own ponies. It's only my son and me. My grandson was a-helping us--my daughter's son, he lives in the cottage across the way--but he's laid up sick too, now. 'Most the whole village is either sick or getting over sick or tending the sick. We've had no custom to speak of since the middle of Foreyule..."

"Do not fret, Mistress! As I said, my people have brought their own food, and don't worry, the Thain will pay you well for putting us up." He turned back and gave the order for the hobbits to dismount.

Adalgrim, his cousin Hildibold, and Herry Bolger found themselves assigned to stabling the ponies. Although anxious to get into the inn where they could get warm and rest, it was a relief simply to be in out of the wind and blocked from the worst of the cold. Gandalf brought his big horse into the stable himself, and the young hobbits were amazed as he helped them groom and feed the ponies after he had finished with his horse. Between the four of them they made relatively quick work of it and then braved the cold once more for the few dozen steps to the inn.

The difference between the cold outside and the warm inside was much more than it had been in the stable, and Adalgrim found his face burning and tingling as he began to warm up--he had not until this moment realized just how cold he was.

Once he had an ale inside him, and a warm meal--stew made from the dried vegetables and meat they had brought along--he soon found himself drowsing. The hobbits did not disturb any of the rooms of the inn. All of them made themselves comfortable with their blankets upon the floor round the hearth. Adalgrim and Hildibold talked quietly for a while before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning the muster rose early while it was still dark. After talking with Isumbras, it was decided that Gandalf would spend part of the day checking on those who were still ill, to see if he could help them. The innkeeper was already beginning to recover and had not needed the Elvish medicine, but there were others in the village who might benefit.

It was also decided that Isengar would remain as well, since unlike the Tooks, the villagers of Frogmorton did not have the long acquaintance with the wizard. The presence of one of the Thain's sons might reassure them. Isumbras had to lead the muster, so his younger brother took on that duty.

The hobbits were mounting, and Isengar and Gandalf watched them leave. Gandalf was certain they would catch up with them by the end of the day. "This is a small village, and many of those who have been ill have already begun to recover. There are only a few who are seriously ill. We should be able to leave after luncheon, and should have no problem following you all."

"Take care, big brother!" said Isengar.

There were flurries of snow as the ponies rode out of the village, and Adalgrim feared that they might be in for more, but the snow remained light and by the time the sun was fully up it had ceased altogether, though the sky remained overcast and the air was damp.

In Whitfurrows they had received word of the wolves--several Brandybucks had come with warning and remained there yet. So far however, no sign had been seen of the creatures. The Brandybucks determined to join the muster, and so they had half a dozen more added to the muster when they left.

But it was just beyond there that they found the first traces--a farmer hailed them, with the information that the wolves had been howling round his place the night before. "Thanks to the Brandybucks for the warning--me sons and me made sure that all the animals was shut up good and tight in the barn! But the howls spooked 'em something awful--they was bellowing and kicking at the stalls most of the night!" He showed them the tracks that encircled the barn and even came up by the doors of the house. They led away cross-country to a slightly southwestern direction.

A few of the hobbits who were good trackers examined the signs.

Matt Brockhouse, whose father ran The Leaping Hare in Tuckborough, had been checking the tracks. "Mr. Isumbras, it looks like there are twenty in the pack, give or take one or two. The signs indicate two went ahead of the pack, the others all followed behind. Nothing to show any of them turned away. They're headed to the Green Hills country and the Woody End."

Orgulas Brandybuck had been speaking to his kin who had brought the warning to Whitfurrows. He came over to tell them that a large number of Brandybucks had crossed over the Brandywine and managed to muster up a several hobbits in the Marish. "They plan to try and scare the wolves back towards the north."

Isumbras nodded. "If we can we want to drive them north of the Bridge before we allow them to cross back over the River. They will be much less of a threat there. How firm is the ice?"

Orgulas shook his head. "It's hard to say. It is so rare for it to freeze over like this, but I am sure it's firm enough to allow them to pass back across."

"But will they stay on the other side, is the question?" He looked at the tracks, and thought for a moment. "We need to divide our force. Half of us will follow the tracks on the west side, half on the east.  If the Brandybucks are able to turn them back to the north, we can keep them from venturing further into the Shire, or from crossing back over into Buckland. Then we can close in together once we are north of the Bridge and begin driving them over the River once more."

Adalgrim found himself in the group on the west of the tracks. They were not that far from one another--each group was still within sight of the other, but they kept far to each side of the wolf sign.  Matt and a couple of others who were good trackers rode following the tracks, keeping an eye out for any sign the wolves had separated or changed their course.

It was a cold, long ride. Adalgrim was tired and hungry, and wondered when they would stop. From the determined look on Uncle Isumbras' face, it would probably not be before supper. And it was already beginning to get dusky. Once the Sun went down, they would have to stop, or risk losing the trail.

Just then, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold in an entirely different way. The howls of the wolves could clearly be heard...

(A/N: This chapter's title comes from the song "Beware the Wolf" by Jon Anderson, and featured on the CD In Elven Lands.)

 

Chapter 17: Beware the Wolf in Darkness Born, part 2

11 Afteryule, S.R. 1312

Adalgrim fell silent then, and for so long that at first Bilbo thought he had fallen asleep.

"Chop?" he asked.

His cousin gave a start. "I'm sorry, Bilbo! I was just thinking." His eyes were distant.

"Were you frightened?" It was hard to imagine Chop being frightened of anything. Chop was just about the most Tookish Took Bilbo knew of among his many maternal relations.

"My heart was right down in my toes, cousin," was the surprisingly serious response. "I've never heard such a sound in my life before, and I hope never to hear it again."

"What happened next?"

"Stopping to rest, or even stopping long enough to get something from our saddlebags to eat was out of the question. We knew that we were getting close to at least some of the wolves--the howls were too close for them to be far away...

_______

...Adalgrim's heart was pounding. He glanced over at Herry and Hildibold who rode beside him. They looked as terrified as he felt.

Then came a shout from the front of the line: his Uncle Isumbras—"That way, lads!" he called, and urged his pony into a trot, a dangerous thing in all the snow. The others did the same. Adalgrim gave a look to his left where he saw the distant shadows of the rest of the company increasing their speed as well.

In spite of the fact that the sky had already begun to darken, the snow made it easier to see. They followed the tracks up over a hill, and below them the scene was spread out before them: a small farm surrounded by wolves and a bloody scene of dead sheep in a pen, a hobbit holding a flaming brand, doing his best to hold the wolves at bay, and from the windows of the small farmhouse, the screams of the mother and children as they could see the farmer's danger. The wolves were beginning to lose their fear of the fire, and his burning torch could not last much longer.

But Uncle Isumbras did not allow them to hesitate—he urged them all forward, and unslung his bow. As soon as they were close enough, he loosed an arrow.

It took the wolf nearest the farmer, and it fell with a horrible cry. The wolves turned.

Perhaps it was that the wind turned as well, or perhaps it was simply seeing the predators turning in their direction, but suddenly several of the ponies became skittish, and more than one hobbit was thrown from his mount. Herry was among those who were unseated, and Adalgrim only just barely kept control of his own pony.

But crouched low, the wolves had begun to move towards the hobbits. They had forgotten now about the farmer, who took the chance to run back to his house. He was seen by one wolf, which turned to pursue him, and he scarcely made it. If his wife had not been watching and opened the door at just the right instant, and slamming it behind him, he would have been caught. If it had been only a few feet closer when it made for him he would never have been saved. The wolf howled its frustration and reared up on its back legs to claw at the door, leaving deep gouges. Then as if it realised the rest of the pack was not with it, it turned and ran to join them.

Then suddenly there came another sound, the sound of a horn!  In the distance Adalgrim could see a line of hobbits a-foot moving toward the farm from the other direction. The horn blew loudly, and there were the sounds of shouts and yells brought on the wind to Adalgrim's ears.

One of the wolves near the rear gave a yelp, and turned, confused. Adalgrim realized it had been hit by a stone. The other hobbits must have been the Brandybucks and the hobbits they had brought with them!

Another wolf yelped, and this one went to the ground, felled by the well-thrown stone.

"Get around to the sides!" Isumbras yelled. They needed to contain the wolves and drive them north. If the wolves were caught on either side, with the Brandybucks behind them they might be able to accomplish that.

The hobbits who were still mounted had been able finally to get their ponies under control; but the ponies of those who had been unmounted had bolted. Herry was still on the ground and the wolves were coming fast.

His heart in his throat, Adalgrim took aim with his bow and saw it hit the wolf nearest Herry so hard that the wolf was tumbled backwards as it fell. The second closest wolf was also hit, and Adalgrim saw that Hildibold had also taken a wolf down. He rode quickly over to Herry and reached down to help him up behind. Riding double with Herry, Hildibold brought his pony back into the line of the other hobbits and Adalgrim followed.

There was another hobbit down. Adalgrim could not see who it was, but the wolves were closing in on whoever it was, and he was terrified that he was going to see a fellow hobbit torn to pieces before his very eyes!

Indeed, one of them had reached the unfortunate fellow and soon had him by the leg. He gave a horrid scream of pain.

Suddenly there was a burst of light, as a mighty voice like thunder cried out "Naur an edraith ammen!"

The wolf withdrew with a howl of pain as a ball of fire struck it squarely in the flank.  Gandalf rode down the hill, his staff pointed before him. The wolves scattered in confusion, and the wizard leaped from his horse, gathered up the injured hobbit and then remounted. He rode quickly to the line of hobbits on their ponies. "Do not allow them to scatter!" Gandalf's voice carried over all the chaos. Adalgrim found himself heartened by the sound of it.

Bows were abandoned for stones. Pelted from behind by the Brandybucks and from either side by the hobbits of the muster, the wolves began to flee in the direction that was desired: north!

Very quickly, lest the wolves turn, Isumbras told off the majority of the muster to continue pursuing them. Hobbits who were unmounted or who had been injured were taken down to the farmhouse to be tended to.

This meant Hildibold had to bear Herry down to the farmhouse. "I'll catch up later, Chop!" he called.

It was nearly half an hour before he did so. Adalgrim had found his Uncle Isengar, who was directing some of them to fall in behind the wolves so that they joined with the hobbits who had been riding to the east of the wolves at the other end. Most of the Brandybucks had been afoot, and would not be able to keep pace with those who were on ponies.

"Uncle 'Gar," Adalgrim said joyfully. "How did you come to be here at just the right moment?"

"It never does to underestimate a wizard, Chop," he said. Isengar was the only one of Adalgrim's uncles who used that name. "We left the village right after tea, but since all of you kept moving, it took us a while to catch up with you! But Gandalf knew right where to come."

Although the hobbits rode as fast as they could, the wolves ran faster, and soon they lost sight of them altogether. Yet it was encouraging to see that the tracks did not veer off, nor were there any signs of one wolf leaving the pack to go in another direction. Adalgrim was beyond exhaustion and light-headed with hunger before they were allowed a brief stop.

They were nearly ready to mount up again when Uncle Isumbras, Gandalf, Hildibold and a few other hobbits who had assisted those who were dismounted or injured or both returned to join the others.

"Uncle Isumbras, how is Herry?" Adalgrim asked. He had gone up to greet the returning hobbits.

"Other than dislocating his knee when he was thrown, he is doing well," his uncle replied. "The farmer's wife has had some training as a healer, though she wed before her apprenticeship was completed. She is taking care of the wounded."

"Who was the hobbit that the wolf got to, Uncle? I could not see who he was."

"That was Inigo Proudfoot. His leg is very badly injured, and Mrs. Puddifoot is not certain if it will heal completely. Most of the others had simple injuries from being thrown from their ponies and will recover well, but there were two among the Brandybucks who were also savaged by the wolves as they attempted to drive them off. One of them may not live."

Adalgrim gave a shudder.

"We cannot afford to rest long. Get some food in you, lad. We shall be mounted up and on our way again inside a half an hour. We cannot allow the wolves a chance to veer West, nor can we take a chance that any of them will separate."

Gandalf shook his head. "That is very unlikely," he said. "These are ordinary wolves, they are not Wargs, and they are loyal to their pack. They would not be in the Shire if they were not starving."

"The old tales," said Isumbras, "claim that wolves are evil creatures!"

"Those the Enemy captured and transformed by foul means are indeed evil creatures of the Dark," replied Gandalf. "Real wolves hate them, as the wargs hate the wolves. When these wolves are in their own place far to the north of here, they are known as noble and loyal creatures. It is this dreadful Winter that has sent them in search of food and brought them to the Shire. Yet while I feel pity for them, they cannot be allowed to rampage over the Shire and harm good hobbits—who are not, after all, their natural food!"

"Enough talk," said Isumbras, looking at the frightened faces of his nephews. "Rest as much as you can, and eat what you can. We've got to be on our way soon!"

The Moon had risen, and he gave enough light upon the snow to make it nearly as bright as mid-day. The pursuing hobbits of the muster could see the tracks of the wolves well enough as they continued straight North. By midnight the trail crossed the East-West Road, and they could see that it had begun to swing slightly to the West.

The wolves had crossed the Water between Frogmorton and Budgeford, for it was quite as frozen as the Brandywine, but they had halted briefly, for the hobbits came across another isolated farm that had been visited by the wolves—though it was still a few hours until the Sun showed her face the lights in the cot were all ablaze, and the farmer and his wife were out looking at the damage done to their chicken coop, which had been destroyed. They had lost many birds, some devoured by the wolves, others escaped in terror.

"They're gone, sir," said the farmer to Uncle Isumbras. "You're not half an hour behind them."

The tracks continued to veer slightly to the West. "We must ride fast," Isumbras said. "We have to get alongside them on the West side, but also behind them. We shall swing out in a curve, and begin to drive them East!"

The farmer had ponies as well, locked securely in the barn along with the family cow and goats. He also had two sturdy sons, one just come of age, the other almost of age. They joined the muster, in spite of their mother's tears.

"Let'em go, Verbena," said the farmer. "It's something that's needful to be done! Or do you want to see them wolves get to Brockenborings where Cherryblossom and the grandbabies bide?"

"Oh mercy!" she cried, "I never thought on that!"

She insisted though that the hobbits remain long enough to each have a sip of hot tea and a few gingerbiscuits—taken ponyback while the sons saddled their ponies. Adalgrim thanked her profusely. He had begun to think he'd never have sup nor bite again.

She gave him a motherly smile, and took the tin mug and the teapot to the next hobbit, as her daughter followed with the basket of gingerbiscuits.

The sons came out of the barn, mounted on their ponies, and the whole troupe of hobbits moved out, riding as quickly as they could—riding all the faster for their brief respite.

It was less than an hour later when they espied their quarry—they had at last drawn even. There were only a few more than a dozen wolves left. Several had been slain in their first encounter.

"We must begin to curve around them. Do not move any closer than your arm can throw!" Isumbras called. "And now we must go slowly. We do not want to get so close that they feel they must attack us."

Gandalf was riding towards the center of the great half-circle they had formed. The ponies moved slowly, but the wolves had stopped, their pack moving closely together. The animals stared at them. Their leader began to growl and move slowly towards the advancing hobbits.

Adalgrim let fly with one of the stones from his pocket. It hit the packleader on the nose, and he gave a yelp of pain. But he only backed up a little bit.

"He is trying to protect the others," called Gandalf. "So long as he stands his ground the others will not flee." The wizard raised his staff and called out once more in that strange tongue, and once more he flung a fireball from the end of his staff. This one did not hit the wolf, but it exploded right in front of him.

With a yowl, he turned and fled, the rest of the pack right behind him—to the East towards the River. The hobbits advanced behind them, not charging the frightened animals, but moving steadily, and the barrage of stones and the occasional fireball encouraged the wolves to keep running. Soon they ran so fast that they outpaced the hobbits, but their tracks continued straight to the River.

The tracks continued on and the hobbits followed; now that it was broad daylight, they could easily see if any broke away from the pack or if the wolves turned aside.

They did not. The tracks led to the Brandywine just North of Girdley Island, and straight across the frozen River.

The hobbits gazed at the tracks, and the solid ice. Isumbras looked at Gandalf. "Should we go after them? What's to stop them from coming back?"

Gandalf shook his head. "They will not return. They are intelligent beasts, and will not wish to become prey themselves—they will remember the opposition they faced. But just to make sure no other foes think the frozen River is a good way to come into the Shire—" He raised his staff one more time, pointed at the center of the Brandywine, and shouted out once more. Then there was the brightest flash yet, and when the hobbits could see once more the ice was broken and steam was rising from the center of the River…

________

…"And that's what happened, Bilbo. I have never been so sore and tired and hungry in my life. Uncle led the muster to the Stonebow Inn in Bridgefields, and they put us up. They were only in a little better shape there than at Frogmorton, but they did have plenty of beds and hot tea and some provisions. We rested a couple of days before we headed back. Gandalf left us there and went East, saying he had other friends to check on, and most of the others went back to Tuckborough. Uncle Isumbras was going to go back through the Puddifoot's farm to see about Mr. Proudfoot and Hildibold and the other injured hobbits, but Uncle 'Gar and I came back by way of the Road so we could stop here in Hobbiton. We had to bring Mag and Hom and the other Hobbiton volunteers back, and to explain to the Bolgers why Herry is delayed. And of course, to pick up Aunt Citrine."

Bilbo stared at his older cousin in amazement. "Chop, you're a hero!" he exclaimed. "Why you helped to save the Shire, and you had an Adventure!"

Adalgrim laughed. "If that is Adventure, my dear cousin, you can keep it. Adventures are nasty things that make you late for supper! But of course," he said more soberly, "it was needful, Bilbo. The whole Shire was in danger." He took a deep breath. "It still is. I could wish that Gandalf could have stayed a little longer. I do not know what we'd have done without him." Then his eyes twinkled and Bilbo saw the remnants of his older cousin's mischief in them. "But oh! his fireworks were glorious! I would love to find out if that staff works for anyone besides him!"

Bilbo's eyes went wide. "Chop! You wouldn't have dared!"

Adalgrim wiggled his eyebrows. "You never know what this fool of a Took might do." He ruffled Bilbo's hair and stood up, taking the tray. "You get some rest, Bilbo-lad. We will be a day or so, I expect before Aunt Citrine is ready to go."

_______

(A/N: This chapter's title comes from the song "Beware the Wolf" by Jon Anderson, and featured on the CD In Elven Lands.)

The Wood Was Burning Fast, and the Snow Still Fell

7 Solmath, S.R. 1312

Aunt Citrine had in fact, stayed four more days, and therefore so had Uncle 'Gar and Chop. She had wished to make certain Bilbo was well on his way to recovery; also, she had been assisting Mistress Rose and Miss Sage in the village with their patients. The catarrh seemed to have run its course. There had been no other new cases since Bilbo had fallen ill. Still, many who had been ill were slow in recovering. His aunt had said nothing of her worries about Bungo and Belladonna to Bilbo, but he had caught her giving them worried looks and he could tell that she was not happy with their progress. They still had lingering coughs and both of them seemed to get out of breath after even the least of exertions--especially his father.

Bilbo had said farewell to his Took kin reluctantly. He was going to miss their presence in the smial, especially Chop, though his cousin seemed far more grown-up than ever before.

Once they had gone, life returned more or less to normal, or what passed for normal in this bleak winter. The supplies provided by the Thain meant they could have regular meals--although they were somewhat limited in variety, and the three limited themselves to two servings, or sometimes even one. Perhaps their illnesses had blunted their appetites, because that did not seem nearly the hardship it once had. But winter continued.

As Solmath arrived, weary hobbits would have welcomed the usual dreary weather of the second month of the year. Normally Solmath was cloudy and rainy and chill. This year it was clear and cold and the snow showed no signs of melting away, although there had been no new snowfall since the last week of Afteryule.

That changed on the seventh. Bilbo woke to looming snow-laden skies that morning, and he shuddered--not with cold, but with dread. How much snow this time? He'd been chopping wood the day before, and he realised with some shock that the stack of wood which had seemed so endless after the ice storm now looked painfully small. Was there enough there to get them through until spring? And when would spring happen? In some years there had even been signs of snowdrops this early, but not this year.

He washed and dressed quickly. He should probably bring in the day's wood as soon as breakfast was finished this morning.

He went to the kitchen; as he approached, his heart gave a lurch to hear his father coughing hard--it sounded to Bilbo nearly as bad as when his father had been still ill, and his heart gave a lurch.

"Papa!" he exclaimed, as he went into the kitchen.

Bungo looked up at Bilbo miserably, as he drew in a wheezing breath. Bilbo saw his father dressed in his outerwear, and an armload of firewood lay scattered near the kitchen door. Belladonna was approaching her husband with a spoon and a bottle in hand. It was a cough elixir Aunt Citrine had left for such occasions.

"You should not have tried to bring in the wood, Bungo!" she scolded.

"I was going to bring it in this morning, Papa!" said Bilbo. "Truly I was!"

Bungo drew breath cautiously. When he did not immediately begin coughing again, he drew in a deeper breath and then said in a low voice, "Oh, Bilbo! I do not doubt you, son! But you should not have to still be doing everything!" His father shook his head in frustration. "It breaks my heart to see you having to do all of the hard work! It is my responsibility to keep my family warm and fed!" He spoke more forcefully and suddenly began to cough again. Bilbo looked up to see his mother had gone white, and appeared to sway briefly. He pulled out a chair for her, and then finished seeing to breakfast: they were back to plain porridge and tea again. Afterwards, he bundled up and went out to bring in enough for two days. He also brought the snow shovel back inside, propping it in the broom closet by the larder door.

After a second breakfast of tea and scones with some of the pear preserves that the Tooks had brought, the little family was glum but resigned.

"We are going to need to be more careful with the firewood. We will heat only the parlour and the kitchen from now until the weather breaks. We will also sleep there. We'll bring featherbeds, blankets and pillows into the parlour, and we will keep the fire there banked as low as we can most of the time."

Bilbo and his mother nodded.

"Bungo," said Belladonna,"I have been thinking perhaps you and I should go through the mathom rooms. We've any amount of old furniture and such that we no longer use; if necessary we can break it up for firewood."

Bilbo shook his head. "Mama, those rooms are dusty. I do not want you and Papa spending time in them until I can get a chance to dust and clean them!" The memory of his father's coughing spell that morning was still fresh in his mind. He did not think he could bear to have either of them sick as they were before. He did not know if he could do that again.

"Oh, Bilbo!" his mother exclaimed. Tears stood in her eyes.

He set his face. "I will get to it as soon as we are through eating," he said. "It's not like I have anything else to do anyway."

That night, Bilbo curled up with his parents in front of the parlor hearth on the featherbeds that had been dragged from the bedsteads; the three of them were piled with blankets, and Bilbo was warm enough except for his nose. It was just about the only thing peeking through the blankets, and it was freezing.

He was exhausted. The mathom rooms had not been dusted since his parents had fallen ill last fall. But now they had been dusted and aired, so that Bilbo thought they would be safe enough to spend time in them. He hoped they did not have to chop up the old furniture, but he remembered how small the woodpile was in the morning. If they had not decided to ration the wood more strictly, they would have been out of fuel in less than two weeks. With the new measures they were taking, it would probably last three, but if winter did not break soon. He shuddered, nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with their dire situation. Even so, his father pulled him closer, pulled the covers up higher. The body warmth helped to calm him, and soon he drifted off to the sound of his parents' gentle breathing.

12 Solmath, S.R. 1312

It had snowed off and on for five days. Never long enough to snow them in again, but the second day, Bilbo had needed to shovel his way to the woodpile once more. He had brought what was left right up next to the back door, and there was probably enough for another week and a half if they were very careful.

His parents had chosen a couple of broken bookcases and a few rickety chairs as the first things to go if it came down to breaking up the furniture. He hoped it didn't come to that. Surely it would warm up again some day.

At least he was sleeping better now. Perhaps it was childish to be so comforted by all of them sleeping together now in order to keep warm, but it reminded him of when he was very young. His parents seemed to be better as well. Mama hardly coughed at all now, though she still seemed to get breathless with very little exertion. Papa continued to cough, and he had given up his pipe "at least until this cursed cough is gone" which had made him rather cross for a few days. But at least the coughing spells were no longer so long and so hard as they had been.

In an effort to stave off boredom, Bilbo and his father had resumed his lessons, but he found it hard to keep his mind on them today, perhaps because it was arithmetic. Bilbo was not nearly so fond of numbers as he was of tales. And he found the more complex problems his father set him now to be very frustrating. Right now he was ready to throw his slate across the room, for he had come up with two different answers to the exact same set of numbers and he could not seem to reconcile them at all. He feared to try the problem again, lest he come up with yet a third answer.Just then, there was a knocking at the door. Bilbo gave a start and dropped his slate with a clatter. His father who had been dozing in his armchair by the hearth woke with a jerk. Belladonna was in the kitchen preparing luncheon, so Bilbo got up to answer the door, wondering who'd be out in this kind of weather. Still, he was glad of the interruption.

To his surprise, it was the Postmaster, Ned Brown. "Come in from the cold, Mr. Brown," he said. "I will call Papa."

"No time, Master Bilbo. A postrider finally made it from Overhill after all this time, and I've a mort of letters to deliver." He took a bundle of letters from his battered leather pouch and handed them to Bilbo. Bilbo instantly recognized his Uncle Bingo's handwriting.

He closed the door behind the departing posthobbit, and looked at the letters in his hand, then returned to the parlour. "Papa, here are letters from Uncle Bingo. There are at least ten of them."

Bungo's eyes widened in surprise as he took them and glanced them over. "It seems that none of these were delivered since before your mother and I fell ill. I suppose it took longer for the roads to be cleared between here and Overhill."

Bilbo nodded. While the distance was shorter to Overhill than it was to Tuckborough in the other direction, the lay of the land meant that the snow was much deeper in some areas of the road. His father was examining the dates on the outside of the letters, and Bilbo decided to let him read them in peace. "I'll go see if Mama needs some help with luncheon," he said.

Belladonna was finishing up the meal as he entered--soup made of dried vegetables, bread toasted with a small sprinkle of Pincup cheese on top, and a jar of mixed pickles from the supplies Gerontius had sent. She was making tea to accompany the meal, and Bilbo began to lay the table without being told.

"Who was at the door?" she asked him.

"Mr. Brown. A postrider finally arrived from Overhill, and there were many letters from Uncle Bingo. Papa's reading them now."

"Well, he can tell us about what your uncle has to say over lunch. Go fetch him, please, son, and we will eat."

Bilbo went back into the parlour, calling out cheerily, "Papa, Mama says that lunch--" he broke off abruptly at the sight of his father. The letters lay scattered on the floor, and his father was sitting forward, clutching at his chest. His face was as white as Bilbo had ever seen it, his lips nearly blue, and sweat was beaded on his forehead. Bilbo ran over to him. "Papa?"

Bungo looked up at him miserably, barely able to raise his head.

"Mama!" Bilbo shouted. "Mama! Something's wrong!"

Belladonna hurried into the parlour, and at the sight of her husband turned to Bilbo. "Go! Fetch Mistress Rose or Miss Sage at once!"

Bilbo raced to the front door, grabbing his jacket from the peg, but not bothering with his scarf or cloak, much less his mittens or leggings. He raced out of the smial and down the lane, floundering in a small drift of snow at the verge before he began hurrying down the road. Mistress Rose and Miss Sage were now staying in town, at the Rumble's smial, in order to be more accessible to the villagers in an emergency. Bilbo kept thinking as he ran: "Please be there! Please be there!"

Fortunately, both of them were there, and at Bilbo's news, they grabbed their satchels and followed immediately.

When they arrived at Bag End, it was to find that Belladonna had helped her husband to lie down upon the pallet where the family had been sleeping, and was helping him to sip a cup of willow-bark tea. "It was all I could think of," she said, "for his pain."

Mistress Rose nodded. "That's good. Let me examine him," she said, pulling off her pendulum. "Sage, I need the foxglove tincture..."

Bilbo and his mother retreated to a corner. His mother had picked up the scattered letters from the floor.

She put her arms around Bilbo's shoulders. "I know now what brought this on, son. Your Grandmother Laura..." she shook her head, and Bilbo stared up at her in mute comprehension.

Now this horrible winter had stolen both his grandmothers.

 
Chapter 19: When Winter Comes Without a Spring

28 Solmath, S.R. 1312

Bilbo had thought the worst of that horrible winter had passed until that day his father received Uncle Bingo's letter. The days that followed were more dreary than ever, and the news of his grandmother's death was only the beginning of more bad news that began to trickle in from various friends and family. First came a letter from Cousin Polo: Great-uncle Ponto had died just before the Turning of the Year, but isolated as the family was on Cousin Polo's farm between Bywater and Waymeet, the news had taken months to arrive. Then Cousin Herry's grandmother, Great-aunt Pansy Bolger, had succumbed to lung fever after all thought she had recovered well from her bout with the catarrh. Not even a week later, Cousin Fosco arrived at Bag End's front door with the sad news that his father Great-uncle Largo had suffered an apoplexy among his wife's people in the Southfarthing, and was not expected to live. Cousin Fosco was distraught, for he could not travel to be by his father's side. Even if the snow had not still made travel difficult, he could not leave his wife and baby Dudo now.

And just this past Sterday had come word up the Hill that Great-aunt Lily Goodbody had slipped away in her sleep. Her daughter-in-law, also named Lily, had gone to take her morning tea, and found her cold and peaceful in her bed.*

Bilbo often felt tears pricking his eyes as he looked at his father, who had begun to wince at every knock on the door, fearing that it would only bring more bad news. Bungo seemed to have aged ten years in the last three weeks. Mistress Rose said the lung fever had affected his heart as well as his lungs, and that he would have to be careful not to over-exert himself from now on. His father needed a cane to walk, and it seemed that even after short distances he was out of breath.

His mother, too, seemed older and quieter. The Tookish twinkle in her eyes had been extinguished, and Bilbo could think of nothing that would bring it back. There was more grey in her chestnut hair now as well. It was hard to even coax a smile from her anymore.

And there had been no break in the weather. The woodpile had been depleted, and an old dresser, a small cupboard and a ancient table had followed the rickety bookcases and the decrepit chairs into the hearth. The mathom rooms were nearly depleted of worn-out furniture, and if spring did not come soon, then they would have to begin burning pieces that were still good. And Bilbo was not deceived: he had seen his father gazing with pain-filled eyes at the books in the study. If push came to shove, they would burn the books, though that would only be a last resort, he knew.

Today had been the bleakest day yet. They had used up the last of the preserved fruit that the Tooks had brought, it seemed so long ago, and every meal had been barley gruel. The  three Bagginses had passed their day in unbroken silence so far, too discouraged even for polite conversation. What was there to say, after all?

As they huddled around the scant fire in the parlour, sipping weak tea, they heard another knock at the door. Bungo gave a start, and dropped his teacup. He looked at it in dismay, but made no move to pick it up. He had gone quite white, and Belladonna was biting her lip.

Bilbo stood up. "I will answer the door, Papa," he said. His voice sounded rusty and unused.

"Thank you, son," Bungo whispered.

Bilbo went to the door with dread. If it was the posthobbit, he thought he might just slam and bolt the door. His parents simply could not take anymore bad news.

To his surprise, it was Farmer Button. He stood on the step, twisting his cap. Bilbo could see his sledge in the lane by the gate.

"Afternoon, Master Bilbo. How's the Squire?" he asked.

"Papa has not been feeling well, Mr. Button. Do you need to speak to him?"

"It's only that I thought that folks could use some wood. That old byre in my back pasture, it just fell over t'other day. 'T was a good-sized building a-fore it went to ruin. I'd planned to pull it down this spring, since we built the new one last year. Anyhow, me lads and me, we thought to share the wood--there's a goodly lot of it, young sir."

Bilbo could have jumped with joy, but he restrained himself. He was representing his Papa right now. "Oh, yes, Mr. Button! That would be wonderful! But can you spare it?"

"We've kept enough for our needs, Master Bilbo, and we've still got some o' the ice storm wood, for we lost so many branches in the orchard!"

"Thank you, then, ever so much! Let me tell Papa and Mama, and I will put on my coat and come help you to unload some!"

They left enough of the well-seasoned old wood to last for several more days, if the Bagginses were careful. They still had more in the sledge, but it was to be distributed to other families.

Before Farmer Button and his two sons left, Belladonna invited them into the smial, where they were given tea. Weak though it was, it was hot and welcome.

Bungo thanked them, his voice soft and weak, "It is kindly of you to think of us and of your neighbours; I appreciate your sharing the wood. I hope that you kept enough for your own families."

The old farmer blushed, the tips of his ears bright red, and he said, "Well, you're most welcome, Squire, sir. I know as how you'd've done the same if you'd had the wood to spare. And don't worrit for us--we kept as much as we brought away, sir, I promise." He looked at Bungo, and his brow creased in worry.

Bilbo escorted them to the door. Farmer Button turned and looked him in the eye. "Master Bilbo, how's your da, truly? He's a good Squire--I hate to think of aught a-happening to him?"

Bilbo swallowed hard, and put on his most grown-up face. "Thank you for your concern, Mr. Button. My father has been ill, but Mistress Rose says he is stronger now than he was."

"Well, you be sure to let us know if there is aught we can do, Master Bilbo. The Master o' the Hill has allus taken care of everybody else. 'T is the least we can do to return the favour."

Bilbo watched the farmer drive the sledge down the Hill. He knew they were taking some of the firewood to Greenbriars, and he was glad, for it was hard to think about his little cousins Dora and Drogo shivering in the cold, and baby Dudo was still very weak. How lucky that the Button's old byre had chosen this time to fall over!

4 Rethe, S.R. 1312

For the last few days, Bilbo and his family had spent most of their time sleeping in the parlour, only stirring for meals. "Like a sett of old badgers," Papa had said, in a now rare attempt at humour, "sleeping the cold weather away."

Bilbo was in the kitchen, helping his mother prepare a luncheon of thin soup, using the last of the dried vegetables left by the Tooks, when there came a rapping at the back door.

He gave the mixture in the pot on the hearth a stir and then went over to answer the door. It was Mag Twofoot.

Belladonna looked around as Bilbo opened the door. "Come in, Mag!" she said. "We were about to have lunch. Won't you join us?"

Mag blushed and stepped into the smial "No thank you, Mrs. Baggins, ma'am. I just came by to ask Master Bilbo if he'd like to go ice fishing with us this evening. My mam was telling us how her nuncle from the Northfarthing used to go out and cut a hole in the ice and fish through it in the winter. We thought we'd go down to the Water and give it a try. Don't know as we'll catch anything, but we might, and a bit o' fish might be a good change."

Bilbo grinned. "I'd like that," he said.

Belladonna frowned. "On the ice? Is it safe?"

Mag nodded. "The ice is thick as thick, ma'am. Mam said her nuncle allus went at dusk, and usually had good luck."

After tea, Bilbo bundled up: leggings, sweater, jacket, scarf, coat, and hat. His father gave him a pair of leather gloves with no fingers, so that his hands would be warm but his fingers free to work. His mother tried to get him to wear his cloak as well, but Bilbo insisted it would be too awkward. He took his creel and some hooks and fishing line; Mag had told him not to bring a pole. "No casting into the ice hole. You just drop the line straight down. You can just use your hand or you can wrap the line around a short stick."

He headed down the lane, and soon met up with Mag, Jack and several other tweens similarly equipped. The lads had all brought with them a few cleverly carved and brightly painted wooden lures. They were rarely used in summer fishing, for worms and minnows were plentiful, but this winter they had none, and no one would waste meat as bait when they weren't sure they'd have a catch.

Mag and Jack had scouted out several spots upon the ice as likely, and now they went down to them. Jack used a long-handled chisel to chip away a tiny pilot hole in the ice, and then Jack use a saw to cut out a hole a little over a foot in diameter, then they moved on to another spot. "Two can fish in one hole," called out Mag.

Bilbo found himself sharing a hole with Herry, whom he'd not seen since before the wolf hunt. "How's your knee?"

"It's all right now. Still aches some, but I get around with it."

Bilbo wanted to ask more, but the look on Herry's face kept him from it. He applied the lure to his hook, wrapped the end of his line around his hand and dropped it in.

The Moon rose before the lads were ready to give up; He gave plenty of light with the snow below, but they were getting colder, and hungry. All of them had caught something, and Bilbo was pleased with the four perch in his creel. He could imagine how good they would smell as his mother roasted them in the embers on the hearth--or maybe she'd even spare a bit of meal and enough lard to fry them! The thought made his mouth water.

25 Rethe, S.R. 1312

Expeditions down to the Water had become more common as word of the lads' success became known. The fish was a welcome addition to the diets of those who had long before run out of meat.

But not all trips were successful. Bilbo was trudging back up the Hill with an empty creel, wondering if there would be any fish left in the water by winter's end, or even if winter ever would end. They had a sunny day, and the Sun was still in the sky even now, but it seemed that the world was still dreary and white as far as he could see. He looked around, and sighed. White, white, white...

White with a hint of green? There, along the verge?

Bilbo gave a wordless shout, and darted over to look more closely. There, peeking up shyly through the cold blanket of snow were the first tiny blooms of snowdrops!

____________________

*AUTHOR'S NOTE: The deaths of Ponto Baggins, Largo Baggins and Lily Goodbody are all canon: Ponto died in 1311, and both Largo and Lily died in 1312. Pansy's date-of-death is not given, but she would have been 100 that winter and it is highly likely that she would not have survived given the circumstances. It was in fact, noticing this that made me begin to think of the events of the Fell Winter.

Chapter 20: Deep Roots Are Not Reached By the Frost

Spring, S.R. 1312

Though long delayed, when the spring of 1312 finally arrived, it did so quickly. Folk long kept indoors by the drear and deadly cold began to come outside to greet the Sun on her daily journey. Warmth seeped into bones that had not known warmth for months. It was on a day in Astron that Bilbo finally heard his mother laugh again. They were in the kitchen doing some long delayed spring cleaning. She was wiping out cupboards, he was scrubbing the hearth, and she laughed and said "Oh, my!"

"What's funny, Mama?" he asked, startled and overjoyed to hear the laughter he'd begun to think he'd never hear again.

Belladonna put her hand to her nose. "My nose is not cold, Bilbo-lad! My nose is warm! My nose hasn't been warm in six months! Whatever shall I do? I've forgotten what to do with a warm nose!"

Bilbo giggled at the silly face she made, and then both of them began to laugh, out of all proportion to the joke. Bungo came in--still pale and leaning on his cane, but looking better than he'd looked in a long time. He joined his family in the laughter as well, when he heard the jest, feeling of his own nose.

Bilbo felt his heart swell with a feeling of happiness he'd begun to think would never come again: his family was whole, and together, and things were getting better every day.

The Shire was still reeling; hobbits grieved for those lost to the winter's illnesses, and crops were late going into the ground. There were few stores left, and much livestock had also been lost. There were many hobbits, like his parents, whose health would never be quite what it had been before; but the Shire had come through the other side of the Fell Winter with persistence and generosity.

Now that things were popping up out of the ground, cupboards were less bare. The lads now took their poles to fish, and with pockets full of stones, would go out and come home with fish or with a brace of coneys or squirrels for the cooking pot. There were young dandelions and sorrel and wild onions and wild garlic to be found in the fields and mushrooms popping up in shady copses and under logs.  

Bilbo was among the few lads daring enough to go seek out the bird's eggs in the nests high above the ground. He was careful not to raid every nest he found though--but it was nice to bring a few home to his parents. Every little bit helped until the crops began to come in. The year would still be lean, even if there was good fortune with this year's planting, for with spring so late, there'd be no time for summer crops this year.

In Thrimmidge, Bilbo took up his lessons once more. Before this, between the struggle to survive and his father's poor health, there had been no time for the sort of lessons that both Bilbo and his father had always enjoyed.  Now there was once again time for Bungo and Bilbo to sit companionably in Bungo's study in the morning between elevenses and lunchtime, Bilbo's quill scratching away writing essays about the founding of the Shire, or using his slate to work complicated sums, while his father sat nearby reading and ready to answer Bilbo's questions. If his father nodded off sometimes during these sessions, Bilbo did not mind. He was simply glad to have his father there at all.

In Forelithe, Mistress Rose advised Bungo to begin to take short walks. "Not far, mind you, and stop to rest whenever you grow short of breath. For a couple of weeks, just take a stroll around your own garden. Then slowly venture a little further: down the Hill perhaps, if you can borrow a trap or something to come back up. I don't want you walking uphill just yet!" She also advised him to continue to take the tonics she had been giving him, and to keep the tincture of foxglove on hand. "Take a few drops if you feel too breathless or have pains in your chest," she said. Bungo made a face, but nodded, for he was too pleased with the chance to go outdoors once more to object to her restrictions.

That afternoon after luncheon, Bungo went out of Bag End's front door for the first time since he had received the letter from Overhill. Leaning on his cane, with Belladonna holding on to his other arm, and Bilbo hovering at his side, he stepped outside and took a deep breath. The day was warm enough, but not hot, and the air was filled with the smell of flowers. The herbaceous border was in bloom: columbine and forget-me-nots, geraniums and primroses, violas and pansies and pervinca, all lending their fragrance to the day.

The Bagginses walked slowly down the path to the gate by the road, and there they stopped, Bungo leaning against the gate to catch his breath.

"I can't believe," he said, "that I am so winded."

Belladonna patted his arm. "It's all right, dear. This is just the first time--it
will get better!"

"I'm sure it will, Papa," Bilbo put in. "You'll see!"

Just then a voice made them all start: "Mr. Bungo! It's good to see you out and about agin, sir." They turned to see Tam Goodchild approaching with a barrow-load of mulch. "I didn't know as how you was able to come out!"

"Mistress Rose just gave me leave today, thank you, Tam! It's nice to see the garden looking so well."

"Though we got a late start, things are growing a-pace, Mr. Bungo. And not just the flowers out here--we'll be a-picking cucumbers and beans and such out o' the kitchen garden in just a few days."

Tam gave a tip of his cap, and moved on to his work, placing some mulch around some young bedding plants that had been planted around the sapling that would replace the tree lost in the ice storm.

Then Bilbo spotted the posthobbit coming up the lane, and he could not help a twinge of worry, and he saw his father grow pale. But Bungo stood his ground and Belladonna placed her hand upon her husband's arm and gave it a squeeze.

"Good day, Ned," Bungo said, "have you any letters for us then?"

"And a good day to you as well, sir," he replied as he sorted through a handful of letters. "Here you are!" He handed over two of them. "It's good to see you out again, Mr. Bungo!" and he was on his way, whistling cheerily.

Bungo handed one of the letters to Bilbo. "It's from Siggy!" he exclaimed.

The other was addressed to both Bungo and Belladonna in the Thain's distinctive and old-fashioned hand. "Shall we go in and take some tea, and read our post?" said Belladonna.

Bungo nodded, and the family made their way back into the smial.

In the kitchen, Bilbo put the teakettle on, while his mother put out some ginger biscuits, and soon they all sat around the table.

Bilbo opened his first:

The Great Smials
17 Forelithe, S.R. 1312

Dear Bilbo,

Is your family coming for Lithe this year? I hope so! I really miss you. It's been almost a year since I've seen you and I do want to see you again.

Things had been pretty bleak around here. Everybody misses Grandmother dreadfully. Grandfather has moved into his study and won't come out.

Nobody knows if Gandalf will be here this summer, but everyone hopes he will and not just for the fireworks! Everybody is ever so grateful for his help this past winter. If he comes this year I will not even touch his fireworks! Chop's coming.

He's trying to get a lass. He wants to court Periwinkle Goldworthy, but I hear she won't give him the time of day because he's been such a rascal in the past.

Well, I hope I will see you soon! Please write me back!

Love,

Your cousin,
Siggy

Bilbo looked up at his parents. "Are we going?" he asked.

"Let us see what your grandfather has to say, shall we, son," his mother replied. Bungo handed her Gerontius' letter, and she slipped her thumb beneath the seal to open it. She scanned it quickly, and then, clearing her throat began to read aloud:

The Great Smials
17 Forelithe, S.R. 1312

My darling daughter and family,

As you know, Midsummer rapidly approaches. I do hope that you will be able to come to visit for Lithe this year. It has been very nearly a year since I have seen any of your family.

Mirabella will be coming, although Gorbadoc will be detained in Buckland. He has only been Master a couple of years, and Buckland has not recovered quite so quickly as the rest of the Shire from the Fell Winter, as people are now calling it.

I know Isumbras would be glad of your advice. Young Fortinbras has begun courting a lass, and he and Carnation have reservations about her, and so, I confess do I. There's no question of a betrothal yet--she's rather young even for an informal courtship, though as you know those of the Southfarthing are rather more lax than the rest of the Shire in such matters. She's a Clayhanger, with connexions among the Bracegirdles and the Sackvilles. She's a handsome lass named Lalia, and Fortinbras can't stop singing her praises.

I do hope that my concerns are groundless, yet I cannot help but remember your brother Hildifons and the results of his disappointment in love with that Sackville chit. We don't wish him to break his heart over her, and yet we also do not wish to drive her away if she is truly fond of him and he of her.

How are all of you doing? I hope you have all recovered well from your illness, and that things in Hobbiton are prospering.

Love to you all,
Father"

"Are we going?" Bilbo asked anxiously. He was quite excited at the thought of seeing his Took relatives again.

Belladonna looked at Bungo. "I don't know. Are you up to the journey, dear?" she asked.

"We will have to see what Mistress Rose says," was his answer. "But even if I am not, I would like to see you and Bilbo go."

And that, it turned out, was how it went. Mistress Rose did not think Bungo would be up to such a journey. It was arranged for Jack Twofoot to come and stay at Bag End to help out around the smial, and his mother would come in to fix suppers. Fosco and Ruby agreed to look in on him while Belladonna and Bilbo were gone.

On the last Trewsday of Afterlithe, the driver hired from The Ivy Bush loaded Belladonna's and Bilbo's luggage into the pony trap, and carried the two of them off to the Great Smials.

It would be their only visit to the Tooklands for the next three years.

 

You Are Cordially Invited, Part One 8 Astron, S.R. 1315 "Are we going?" Bilbo hung over his mother's shoulder as she read the Invitation. His voice was wistful, as though he knew the answer would probably be "no". 6 Astron, S.R. 1315 Whitwell Dear Bungo and Belladonna, You, and your son Bilbo, are hereby cordially invited to attend the Wedding of your Nephew, Adalgrim, and his Betrothed, Periwinkle Goldworthy. The Wedding will take place at Noon, on the fourth day of Forelithe, at the home of the Groom’s Parents, Hildigrim and Rosa Took at the Great Smials. Please let us know as soon as possible if you will be attending. Cordially yours, Lettice Goldworthy, Cousin of the Bride Belladonna was silent. She wished to go as well; but she had found that she did not care to be apart from Bungo, and he'd not been up to travelling since the Fell Winter. She did not want her voice to betray her. It would hurt him dreadfully to know that she would stay home on his account. Bungo glanced up from his own letter from his factor in Bywater. "I've been feeling much better lately, my dear. If Mistress Rose approves, then I think we should all go. I must confess I have missed the, er, bustle, of the Great Smials. And I should like to see your father again." Bilbo gave a whoop of joy, but Belladonna patted his hand. She smiled at her husband. "Well, we shall see what Mistress Rose says." It turned out that Mistress Rose thought the change would do Bungo good. "Mind you, travel the long way round, not by the Post Road and stop over in Waymeet!" And so it was that Belladonna penned the family's acceptance, provisionally, for she still feared Bungo might have a turn for the worse. Dear Periwinkle, We are very pleased to hear of your upcoming wedding to our beloved nephew Adalgrim, and the three of us will be happy to attend, if Bungo's health allows. Please accept our heartiest best wishes upon your impending nuptials, and we look forward to meeting you at the ceremony. We plan to arrive at the Great Smials by the first of Forelithe, to be in time for your Sitting for the Gifts. Affectionately yours, Belladonna, Bungo and Bilbo Baggins Instead of a pony trap, the Bagginses hired a coach from The Ivy Bush, as well as young Jackdaw Twofoot to drive it for them. In the past, Bungo had always driven the pony trap, but Mistress Rose advised him against the exertion of driving; Bilbo had offered to drive, but his mother suggested the coach and driver instead. "Your father and I will be far more comfortable in the coach," she said. "And if you wish and the weather is fine, you may ride up front with Jack." Bilbo was beyond excitement over the journey; while Siggy had paid the Bagginses a brief visit with his parents last year, he'd not seen any other Took relatives since he and his mother had gone to the Great Smials the summer after the Fell Winter. There had been letters--he had a few from Chop, most of them singing the praises of his Periwinkle, and of course he and Siggy kept up a lively correspondence. But it wasn't the same as seeing them. He missed his grandfather as well, for all of Gerontius' letters were to the family as a whole, and not just to Bilbo. Jack and Bilbo loaded the luggage into the coach, and then Jack assisted the two older Bagginses into it. Bilbo felt a wave of concern to notice how heavily his father was breathing after only the light exertion of entering the coach, and how pale his mother was after she was finally seated. How frail they were now! But he shook his head. No gloomy thoughts! They were off to a fine and happy occasion. He clambered up to the driver's seat, and grinned at Jack when he joined him. Jack took up the reins and gave them a pull and a shake, and the four smart black ponies that pulled the coach set off. They first had to go southeast to Bywater to meet the Road at the Three-Farthing Stone, and then they turned West towards Waymeet, a journey of some twenty-five miles. Bilbo had been quite young when the family had last been to Waymeet, and he recalled little of the route there, so the scenery was all new to him. He gazed about and he and Jack talked--Jack had never been to Waymeet at all, and he was as pleased as punch that the Squire's family had chosen him as a driver! The two lads found much to talk about as the coach rolled along. Bilbo felt as though he were on top of the world in his high seat looking down. About halfway there, Bilbo's mother shouted through the coach window, and asked Jack to find a spot to pull over. She had packed a basket that would serve them all as a late elevenses or an early luncheon. Jack spotted a grassy verge beneath the shade of a large apple tree. The tree grew on the other side of a meadow and overhung the rail fence that ran parallel to the Road. Bilbo spread a blanket on the ground and fetched the cushions for his parents out of the back of the coach. The hobbits enjoyed their picnic as the ponies cropped the grass. After a light repast of chicken, boiled eggs, bread, cheese, pickles and small cakes, of which not a crumb was left, they returned to the coach and drove on. His mother handed him a small sack of gingersnaps before he and Jack had climbed up again, for she knew that it would be past teatime before they finally stopped at the inn in Waymeet. The two talked a while, and then as hobbits of all stations enjoy, began to play at a game of riddles. Jack started it with an old familiar:  A box without hinges, key, or lid, Yet golden treasure inside is hid* Bilbo grinned. It was traditional to start with a really easy one. "Egg", he answered, and then offered up his own. White above, brown below Only in the dark I grow, A fine treasure For your pleasure. Jack chuckled. "Mushrooms. I wisht we had some now." Bilbo patted his stomach. "So do I." Jack thought for a minute, as he tried to remember all of a riddle he'd heard from his uncle from Needlehole. Bilbo thought he had given up when Jack finally spoke: Comes in one color, but not one size, stuck at the bottom, and yet it flies; found in sunshine, but not in rain; never does harm, and never feels pain. Bilbo pursed his lips and thought hard. What could it be? He'd never heard this one at all before. Jack grinned and gave him a sideways look, and began to whistle. "'Stuck at the bottom...found in sunshine'...no...no, that's in rain, too," He began to look down at the road as they drove and just then the Sun hid herself behind a cloud, and the sky darkened slightly..."Shadow!" he shouted. "That was a good one, Jack! But then I noticed our shadow on the Road." He thought briefly, and then remembered one he had heard from Uncle Gorbadoc once: I run but never walk; I have a mouth but never talk; I have a bed but never lie; What am I? Now it was Jack's turn to be stumped. He thought and thought, and finally said, "I will have to give up, Master Bilbo! I just can't think of the answer!" Bilbo smiled smugly. "A river!" he said. "Oh, I'll have to remember that one, Master Bilbo. That's a really good one, that's a stumper that is!"   The two sang a few songs, and then grew silent. Bilbo was getting tired, for they had left quite early; he must have nodded off for a while, because suddenly Jack elbowed him. "Master Bilbo! Look, I think we are at Waymeet!" They were on the downside of a long low hill, and the village was spread out before them. Waymeet was more of a town than a village, a little bigger than Hobbiton, for it truly was where several roads met, and so much business was conducted there. Bilbo noticed there were many more houses visible than smials. Soon they came to the four-way crossing, where the North-South Road crossed the Great East-West Road. While the East-West Road continued straight on, the road to the north and to the south angled to the west at the crossroads. There were three inns: The Golden Mushroom, The Sleepy Badger, and The Running Fox. "Mrs. Belladonna said The Golden Mushroom," said Jack, as he drove the coach towards that establishment. Bilbo nodded. "Mama said it was the largest and most well-appointed." He looked it over--it certainly was prosperous, with its wide stone and half-timbered wings stretching out from the center to form a courtyard, partially bounded on the fourth by a large stable. The whitewash gleamed in the Sun, and the thatch looked like spun gold. The round door was not painted but stained a golden brown, and there was a beautiful mushroom carved right into it, just above the shining brass doorknob in the center. Another carving of a mushroom hung from the eaves, with a small sign hung from it by two short chains. The sign said "The Golden Mushroom est. S.R. 1071, G. Gawkrogers, prop." Jack and Bilbo climbed down and opened the doors to help Belladonna and Bungo out. Hobbit grooms came running to take the coach and ponies, and other hobbits came to assist with the luggage. They were greeted by a cheerfully plump hobbitess with a mass of grey curls and a pair of spectacles perched on her nose. She kept up a cheerful chatter as she showed them to a large and well appointed room. In one corner a large screen had been set up, and Bilbo glimpsed the edge of a copper tub behind it. There was a large bed, with a smaller one tucked beneath it on wheeled legs, and by the hearth a small mattress lay upon the floor with a blanket covering it. "As you asked for, Mrs. Baggins, a trundle for your son and a pallet for your driver. You are too late for tea, but we can have an early supper sent to your room, and then bring your baths, or you can have your baths now and take supper in the common room." Belladonna chose to have the early supper sent to the room. Bilbo found he was disappointed, for he wanted to see more of the inn than just their room, however nicely appointed it was. Usually when the family had travelled they had stayed with relatives; an inn was a novelty to him. But of course his father was not up to that. He could see that Bungo was very tired. However, all of them were considerably revived when the maidservant tapped on the door, and then wheeled in a trolley laden with covered dishes and plates and cups and a steaming teapot. There was a little table in the room with four chairs, and the maidservant began to lay the table. Jack made a feeble protest about eating with them, but Bilbo's mother just waved that aside.  "Of course you will eat with us, Jackdaw! I promised your parents to take good care of you on this journey!" she said firmly. So they all sat down to a nice supper of leek soup, a pot roast with mushrooms, potatoes, carrots, parsnips and onions, bread, cheese, butter and honey, and a plate of strawberry tarts. The fare went a long way towards erasing Bilbo's disappointment about exploring the inn! After the meal, Jack and Bilbo went out—Jack to check the ponies and make sure the coach would be all right for the next day's travel, and Bilbo to give his parents some privacy for their baths. He went to the stables with Jack, and then they strolled up the road a short distance before turning back. The water was warm, but not hot, by the time Bilbo got his own bath, and it was no more than lukewarm by the time Jack got to it. But Bilbo thought if felt good to be clean of the dust of travel, and while the truckle bed was not so comfortable as his own bed at home, he soon was sleeping soundly. xxxxx *The first riddle, is of course, found in The Hobbit, Chapter V, "Riddles in the Dark", but the others are well-known traditional riddles, slightly altered to be more hobbity.

Author's Note: At last an update! I had prepared part of this chapter long ago, and then had to put it aside for other things; it took me a while to get back into the story and finish the chapter. I do hope that future updates will not be so far apart.

Chapter 22: Afternoon at the Great Smials

They made good time the next day, eating the food they had brought with them in the coach, except for a stop for lunch in Whitwell at The Wandering Wizard. They arrived at the village (which carried the same name as the Tooks' farm on its outskirts) where they treated themselves to the inn's famous chicken and mushroom pie, said to be a favourite of old Gandalf when he came to the Shire at midsummer. But they were travelling again by half-past one, and arrived at the Great Smials before teatime.

Jack drove the coach up the long curving drive that swept past the Great Doors at the front of the immense dwelling. They were not the only ones to have arrived in so timely a fashion; a carriage was pulling away from the front steps as Jack pulled up.

A servant came up and opened the door, helping the Bagginses to alight. "Welcome, Mistress Belladonna, Mr. Bungo, Master Bilbo," he said.

"Thank you, Mat," Bella responded. Mat and another servant soon had the Bagginses' travelling cases down, and Jack was directed to the stables with the coach and the ponies. There were quite nice sleeping quarters for visiting drivers provided above the stables, and it was there that Jackdaw would stay until it was time for the Bagginses to go home.

Bella, Bungo and Bilbo went inside to go and find Grandfather Gerontius in his study. He rarely left it these days; he had moved into it after the death of his beloved Adamanta, for he could not bear to remain in their rooms which reminded him of her so much.

There they discovered that those who had arrived just before them were Belladonna's sister Mirabella Brandybuck and her husband Gorbadoc. Bilbo was pleased to see their oldest son, eleven-year-old Rory at his parents' side. But he wondered where his younger cousins were, a question his mother also wondered about, for after embracing her father, she asked her sister: "Where are the little ones, Mira?"

"We judged them too young for such an occasion as a wedding. They are home at Brandy Hall with their aunts."

Rory's face lit up at the sight of his cousin Bilbo, and he immediately came over to hug him. "Bilbo! I'm so glad you came!"

Bilbo ruffled the younger hobbit's curls, and chuckled. "I'm glad to see you as well, Rory!"

At his mother's gesture, Bilbo went over to the armchair by the hearth to greet and embrace his grandfather. He was dismayed to see how frail the Old Took looked. "I am glad to see you, Grandfather," he said, placing a kiss on the old hobbit's forehead.

Gerontius pulled him down and placed a kiss on his forehead. "I am glad to see you as well, my lad." He smiled faintly, and patted Bilbo's arm.

His duty done, Bilbo turned to his parents. "Where is Chop?" he asked.

His Aunt Mirabella answered. "Adalgrim and Periwinkle are in the East parlour, sitting for their gifts. We thought we'd go along there to present ours in a few minutes."

Bella nodded. "You go right along! I think that we will go to our rooms and freshen up  and rest a little before we bring our gift to them." She glanced over at Bungo, who had sat down on the sofa, and was looking somewhat pale.

The Brandybucks looked in Bungo's direction, and nodded. "We shall see you at tea in the family apartments then?"

Bilbo looked at his parents--he knew his father would probably need to take a nap before teatime, but he did not feel the need to rest. "Mama, may I stay with Rory?"

Rory's little face lit up. "Yes, please, please, Aunt Bella! Do say yes--I haven't seen Bilbo in ever so long!"

Bella nodded, "If it is all right with Aunt Mira and Uncle Gorbadoc, then you may."

Assent granted all around, Bilbo followed his aunt and uncle back down the passageway that led to the East parlour--one of the three common parlours found in the Great Smials (there had once been four, but the West parlour had been removed in the building of the Ballroom on the southwest side of the Smials). He noted the package his uncle carried: a white box, tied up with a large blue ribbon, and he realised that must be their gift for the couple. Bilbo was curious about the gift, but he was more curious about his cousin's bride. Chop had written to him frequently, and his letters were often full of his intended's praises. But he had never met her, and he wondered what she was like.

In the parlour he saw Chop on the sofa by the hearth; next to him was a lass and by how closely they sat and the way their hands were entwined, Bilbo knew that she must be Periwinkle. She had soft brown curls spilling down her shoulders and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose.

A matronly hobbit sat across from them; she bore a great resemblance to the lass on the sofa, and Aunt Mirabella addressed her as "Mrs. Goldworthy", so Bilbo guessed that she must be Periwinkle's mother.

He wanted to greet Chop, but was shy of doing so in the presence of his cousin's betrothed. He and Rory hung back, and Aunt Mira and Uncle Gorbadoc went to hand them their gift.

"Thank you."

"You are welcome, Adalgrim," Aunt Mira responded. "Now don't be shy! Open it!"

The young couple placed the box between them, and Periwinkle pulled on the ribbon to untie the bow. She lifted out the item, which turned out to be a teapot, with some sort of scene painted on the side. She gasped. "Oh, Adalgrim!" she said. "Look!"

Bilbo and Rory moved closer out of curiosity: the scene painted on the teapot was of a little farmstead, and Bilbo realised that it was of the farm at Whitwell.

"Thank you so much, Aunt Mirabella and Uncle Gorbadoc!" Chop exclaimed. "It's wonderful!"

Bilbo and Rory looked at one another, and then at their older cousin. It certainly did not seem at all like the mischievous cousin Chop they had always known, to be so pleased at a teapot, of all things! Rory scowled at Periwinkle, and Bilbo elbowed him in the side.

Mrs. Goldworthy took the gift to put it away--it would not do to leave it where other visitors could see, and perhaps compare it to their own gifts. She put it inside a cupboard that stood next to the hearth.

The Brandybucks left the room soon after, for there might be others wishing to bring their gifts. As soon as they were out of the room, Rory pulled on Bilbo, drawing him down to hiss in his ear: "What's the matter with Chop? What's that lass done to him?"

But he did not hiss quietly enough. His mother laughed. "Nothing is the matter with Adalgrim, Rory, save that he has grown up and he is in love."

Little Rory looked doubtful, but Bilbo wondered. He'd had many letters over the years from his older cousin, and had learned how the Goldworthy family had helped the young Took through the Fell Winter on the farm at Whitwell, how Periwinkle had helped to nurse his cousin through his own illness, and then been ill herself. His letters after that had been much more serious than before, though Chop still had a sense of humour. But it was more in the nature of funny stories in his letters, not tales of his own exploits and japes.

Be he himself had been more serious too, after that terrible time. Perhaps it wasn't just the being in love, or even the growing up, but having to deal with terrible times as well.

"Bilbo! Rory!"

Siggy's voice echoing down the corridor jolted Bilbo out of his thoughts, and he ran to greet his dearest friend, with Rory at his heels.

"It's teatime," Siggy said. "Mother sent me off to let you know!" He looked up at the adult Brandybucks. "We are having tea in the family quarters."

Bilbo followed his friends as they went back the way he had come earlier. "Siggy, Chop is acting so grown-up I hardly know him," he said.

Siggy shook his head. "Don't call him 'Chop' anymore!" he said. "Miss Periwinkle Goldworthy does not approve of that name." He put on  high falsetto voice. "'It's such a silly name, Adalgrim, dear! You should not even answer to it'"

Bilbo looked alarmed at this, and little Rory looked utterly horrified. "Not call him Chop anymore?"

"No," Siggy said firmly. But just then they reached the wing which was occupied by the Thain's immediate family. There was a large sitting room, a private dining room, a small kitchen, two bathing rooms and a water closet, and any number of bedrooms in this section of the Great Smials. The Thain's study was also located there, but he would not be coming out to join the rest of the family. Someone (usually his middle daughter Donnamira) would bring his meals to him and sit with him as he ate. But there were two tea trolleys set up, and tea was presided over by Uncle Isengrim, who had taken over a number of his father's duties.

Bilbo was pleased to see both his parents there, his father looking much refreshed after a brief rest. He helped himself to a plate of biscuits, scones and cucumber sandwiches and tea, and joined them on one of the several settees scattered about the room. A few minutes later, Adalgrim, his betrothed and her mother entered the room, and were pleasantly greeted.

Belladonna smiled. "They are through with their sitting for the day," she said. "We shall take them our gifts tomorrow.

After tea had been eaten, Siggy and Flambard (who was slightly older) and some other lads--various Took cousins as well as some of the guests who'd come for the wedding--came over and collected Bilbo to join them on the South Lawn for a game of "Breakthrough" before supper. The bride's younger brother Porro turned out to be about the same age as Bilbo and Siggy. Flambard was designated as one team captain, and Porro was the other.

Bilbo had hoped he would be on the same team with Siggy, but Porro called Siggy to his team, and Flambard called Bilbo to his. The older lads were quickly picked and soon only a few of the younger lads were left. Rory was called to Flambard's team. There were six lads on each side when they finished. Bilbo was relieved that they had even numbers, otherwise someone might have been left out.

Fortunately the South Lawn was fairly smooth and level; each team formed a line facing the other--they were about a rod and a half apart--and held hands, stretching apart. Bilbo's team was on the East side and the other team was on the West.  Bilbo was on one end, with young Rory on his left. Since Flambard was the eldest, he got to make the first call.

"West to East, East to West
Whose team is the best?
Send Ducky over to make the test!"

"Ducky" was cousin Hildigar, (so called because all during his faunthood he was never to be seen without his toy duck, which he pulled behind him on a string) who was one of the younger lads--though he was a little older than Rory. Ducky dropped the hands of his teammate, backed up a little and came running as fast as he could. Bilbo set his feet and tightened his grip on Rory, but Ducky aimed between Flambard and another lad whom Bilbo had only just met, a cousin of the bride, he thought. Their hands held and so Ducky added himself to the end of their line next to Rory.

It was Porro's turn now, and to Bilbo's surprise, his own name was called. He put his head down and ran as hard as he could, aiming between Porro and Siggy. To his own surprise, he broke right through. He grabbed Siggy and brought him back over to his own team, where they both joined the end of the line.

The game was fun, and the two teams had gone back and forth several times. Porro was no longer captain of the West team, for the East team had captured him. West was ahead when one of the servants came out to call the lads in to get ready for supper.

With a glad shout all of them dropped hands and raced for the smials, to wash up and change their clothes.

Bilbo entered the main dining room with his parents and scanned the tables set aside for children and tweens; his parents would be sitting at the high table with his aunts and uncles and some of the important guests. He spotted Siggy, who was frantically waving his hand, and pointing to the empty chair next to him. Belladonna smiled and nodded for him to go ahead, as she and Drogo made for their own places.

Sliding into the chair, Bilbo looked at Siggy and grinned. "Thanks!" he said. He noticed that Porro sat across from them, and next to him was a dark-haired lass he did not know.

"This is my sister, Pomona," Porro said. "Pom, this is Bilbo Baggins, one of Adalgrim's first cousins."

Bilbo blushed. "At your service," he said politely. He was not used to speaking to lasses.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Bilbo. You must be related on your mother's side?"

This was safe ground. "Yes; my mother is Hildigrim's sister Belladonna; my father is Bungo Baggins of Hobbiton."

Just then the servants came to set food on the table, and conversation was forgotten for a while. Bilbo heaped his plate with slices of ham, roasted young potatoes, peas cooked with little onions, mushrooms and bread and butter. The mushrooms only made it around the table once, but he was able to have seconds and thirds of everything else. With several young tweens at the table, there was not a crumb of anything left, and some servants came to take away the dirty plates while others brought dishes of strawberries and clotted cream for afters, and a platter of cheese and fruit for the filling up of corners.

Bilbo was nibbling on a slice of pear with a little sharp cheese, and wondering if he wanted any more or not (his mouth said "yes" but his stomach was saying "no!") and he rather thought he'd listen to his stomach. He was of no mind to be up half the night with a stomachache drinking ginger tea.

Siggy had already finished and was sipping at his water. He turned to Bilbo, and said in a low voice, "You know, we need to find a good prank to play on Chop--I mean, Adalgrim."

Bilbo gaped at his cousin. That would never have occurred to him. "Why?" Chop had always been the ringleader when the cousins got into mischief together. He could not imagine his older cousin being the object of the joke.

"Well, he's going to be having fun this week without us!" said Siggy.

"Siggy!" Bilbo turned beet red, shocked.

Siggy turned red as well. "I didn't mean that! I mean--the older cousins and uncles will be taking him to the inns for ale and beer and you know they won't include us, because they will all mean to get drunk!"

"Oh." Bilbo nodded. At twenty-five, he and Siggy were still considered too young for that sort of thing. They could go to the inns, and even have ale--but at their age they were restricted to a half, no more. "So, what do you want to do to him? If we do anything it needs to be something good."

"It needs to be something Ch--I mean, Adalgrim--has never thought up himself."

Bilbo nodded. This was going to take some serious thinking.

Chapter 23: On the Giving of Wedding Gifts

The next morning after second breakfast, Bilbo followed his parents back to the East parlour where once more Adalgrim and Periwinkle would be awaiting their gifts. Bilbo was carrying the rather large softish package, which was wrapped in muslin and tied with a blue ribbon. Bungo walked next to his wife, using his cane, and one would not have to look very closely to perceive that his arm was supported by his wife's hand rather than the other way around.

Bilbo hoped that the bride would like the gifts; his mother had worked on them for a long time. He knew that Chop would love them just because of who they were from--his cousin had always had a soft spot for his Aunt Bella. But he didn't know if Periwinkle would be the sort of lass who would appreciate it. He was quite prepared to bristle on his mother's behalf if she did not.

They found the couple sitting once more on the settee. In addition to Periwinkle's mother, he saw that her sister Pomona was also there, though not her brother Porro. Pomona smiled at him, and gave an almost imperceptible wave when she saw him. Bilbo blushed, but did not otherwise respond. This was a formal gift presentation, and the young people weren't to speak unless spoken to.

Adalgrim stood up to greet his aunt and uncle, giving Belladonna a fond peck on the cheek and patting his Uncle Bungo on the back. He grinned and winked at Bilbo, and said "Hello, Cousin Bilbo." Bilbo smiled and returned the greeting; his parents were sitting down, and his mother gave a nod.

Ordinarily one of his parents would have presented it, but Bungo had needed to sit, and so his mother had told him he would be the one to hand the present over.

Adalgrim took the package, and then sat down to show his betrothed. Together they untied the ribbon, and pulled the folded muslin away.

"Oh my!" exclaimed Periwinkle. She lifted out the two items on the top, delicately crocheted doilies sized to fit on top of nightstands. Then there were two linen pillowslips trimmed in crocheted lace that matched the doilies, and finally, a pieced coverlet also trimmed in matching lace. "Oh, this is lovely work! Did you make this yourself, Mrs. Baggins?"

Bilbo felt gratified at her obvious appreciation of his mother's work, and he started to warm a little to his cousin's intended.

Belladonna smiled. "You must call me 'Aunt Bella', dear, as we are soon to be family! Yes, I did indeed make this set."

Her mother and sister came over to inspect the gifts, before the mother took them to lock up in the gifts cabinet. Pomona touched the lace of one of the doilies reverently. "I wish I knew how to do that!" she exclaimed.

Mrs. Goldworthy chuckled. "I am afraid I am quite hopeless with a crochet hook," she said. "I've never been very good at fancy work, though I can do plain sewing, and can knit only just well enough to make a plain scarf. So I've never had the chance to teach my lasses."

Bilbo's mother laughed. "Well, there are a number of things that I am hopeless at as well. But as for crochet, if you lasses would like to learn and have the time while I am here, I can teach you the basic stitches."

"I should like that very much indeed!" said Pomona.

The two families spoke for just a little longer, until the next well-wisher bearing gifts knocked upon the door. So the Bagginses took their leave, and made room for another family to enter.

Finished with social obligations for the time being, Bilbo went off to find Siggy. Siggy had collected Porro and Rory already, and the lads after brief consultation decided to take fishing poles and a picnic for elevenses and maybe luncheon, and go down to the duck pond to fish.

"But you have to promise, Rory, to stay out of the water!" said Bilbo firmly.

"I will," the young Brandybuck said, though he looked somewhat downcast. "Mum said I had to promise as well. She said she didn't bring nearly enough changes of clothing for me to be falling in the water all the time."

The other lads laughed, and then went to one of the smaller kitchens to beg a hamper from the cooks, and a few scraps of offal to use as bait. They'd collect some fishing poles from a shack that stood near the duck pond, and kept there for visitors.

Bilbo caught several fish, but only one perch that was big enough to keep. Porro likewise only caught one, and Siggy caught two. Little Rory surpassed them all with four good-sized fish. The lads ate and drank from the hamper as their bellies spoke to them, and when they had eaten all the food, the lads decided to quit for the day. They carried the catch back to the same kitchen where they had been given the hamper, and returned the empty basket.

Porro decided to go look for his sister, and Rory was collected by his mother, who tutted at the state of his clothes, for while he had not been in the water, he had managed to get wet from the fish--and there were bait stains on his shirt as well. Aunt Mirabella hauled him off muttering.

Bilbo and Siggy had put a few pears in their pockets to tide them over until teatime, and decided to go to Siggy's room to talk. They sprawled on top of Siggy's bed.    

"We could steal his smallclothes."

Siggy shook his head. "No. He did that to cousin Isembard just a few months ago. What about an apple-pie bed*? We could slip in and do that during the dancing after the wedding feast."

"That would hardly be fair to his bride," said Bilbo. While he was still dubious about her influence over Chop, he was feeling more kindly to her now that he'd had a chance to see more of her. She seemed very nice.

For an instant, Siggy looked like he did not really care, and then he heaved a sigh and said, "Oh, I suppose you're right. We could lock him in his room the night before, so he can't get out and go off with the others."

Bilbo considered for a moment, before saying, "No, he'd just climb out the window. Besides you know Cousin Fortinbras will be practically glued to his side until the wedding, since he's standing witness."

"It needs to be something that he's never done, anyway. And it should be something that he'd never expect, and that would inconvenience only him."

"And," Bilbo added emphatically, "it needs to be something that's funny--and that he will think was funny when he gets over being angry. Because if not, he is very likely to stay angry. And if he figures out it was us while he's angry, he is likely to think of something really nasty to get back at us."

Both lads were silent as they thought over the implications of that. Chop had always been very clever in getting revenge on anyone who dared make him the target of their japes.

"Well, if we are clever, perhaps he won't figure it out," said Siggy.

Bilbo looked at him, and Siggy shrugged. "Still," said Bilbo,  "it needs to be funny as well." The two lads leaned against the head of the bed, their hands locked behind their heads, their legs stretched out in front as they thought.

Finally Bilbo broke the silence. "We need to get a look at Chop's room--"

"Adalgrim," said Siggy morosely.

"Chop's room," Bilbo repeated emphatically. "Then perhaps something will come to us. I want our last prank on him to be a gift he will always remember."

"Why don't we call on him after tea?" said Siggy. "He wouldn't be surprised if we went to see him, after all, for we've scarcely had a chance to visit with him since you got here."

"Yes! Maybe that will give us some ideas!" And Bilbo was not at all averse to seeing his second favorite cousin and having a chance to talk with him before matrimony changed everything.

__________

*Apple-pie bed: what a shortsheeted bed in which a sheet is folded back on itself halfway down as a practical joke so that the victim cannot get into it is called in the UK.

Chapter 24: One Eye on the Mirror as You Watched Yourself Go By

After tea, the two lads headed down the corridor to Chop's room-it was the same room in his parents' quarters where their cousin had slept when he was growing up until his antics had finally caused his grandfather to send him off to Whitwell.

"Do you suppose he'll be there?" asked Bilbo. "He might be off with his intended this afternoon!"

Siggy shook his head. "I had it from Porro that both his sisters would be at a tea party just for the lasses to honour the bride one last time."

"Good! Then maybe he will be home after all."

In fact he was, and it was Adalgrim himself who answered the door. His father was there, and Bilbo and Siggy greeted their Uncle Hildigrim who sat in the parlour reading and smoking; Aunt Rosa was gone-she too was at the party in honour of the bride.

"Come on back to my room then, you two," said Adalgrim. They followed him in and he sprawled in his armchair by the hearth, while Siggy and Bilbo flopped on the rug.

"Are your bones too old to sit on the floor anymore, Ch-Adalgrim?" Siggy laughed.

Adalgrim winced and sighed. "It's hard to get used to a new name," he said. "And, no, I'm not too old. But I'll be meeting Periwinkle at supper, and I certainly don't wish to be all dusty and wrinkled from sitting on the floor!"

"Why do you let her tell you what name you'll be called?" asked Bilbo. Perhaps because he asked the question from simple curiosity and without any hint of resentment, his older cousin didn't snap at him, but looked thoughtful.

"I know I've written to you a little about Periwinkle, and how we met. But I don't think you know the whole story, do you?"

Bilbo and Siggy shook their heads, surprised at his serious tone.

"I know that you met after Grandfather sent you to Whitwell," said Siggy.

"And that you, er, fell in love with her during the Fell Winter," Bilbo added.

Adalgrim chuckled. "Yes, I did fall in love with her during the Fell Winter. But it took longer for her to fall in love with me." He stared at his cousins silently for a while, and Bilbo was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable at his regard, when he spoke again. "Both of you are so much younger that I didn't think you'd understand, but I think now that you are old enough to hear the story-and you've both been my friends for so long, I think you deserve to know why the 'Chop' you grew up with has tried so hard to change.

"The Goldworthy family were the caretakers for the farm for many years before Grandfather sent me here. They didn't live in the farmhouse-in fact they had their own smaller farm that was adjacent to Whitwell, and they tended both farms. I know you've met Periwinkle's younger sibs, Porro and Pomona, but she also has two older brothers-Pando and Picco, who help their father with both farms. They haven't arrived here yet. They'll be here the day before, because they've stayed behind to run things until then. Both of them are already wed, and Pando already has children.

"I was wise enough to know that I did not have any idea of what it took to run a farm. I'd done my share of helping at planting and harvest, like any other hobbit lad. But the daily tasks needed to get by were beyond my ken. Farmer Goldworthy knew that Grandfather would count on him to help me, and to teach me what I needed to know.

"Without him I would have been lost, for you know what happened that first year..."

His voice trailed off, and the three cousins shuddered briefly, in memory of that Fell Winter.

"I fell ill shortly before Yule. I was dreadfully sick...well, you know how it was. Mrs. Goldworthy and Periwinkle came to me, and the two of them nursed me through the worst of it. When I would wake up to see her kind brown eyes and her worried smile as she would try to reassure me-well, it didn't take long for me to fall for her.

"But when I got well, and tried to pursue a courtship with her, she told me 'It's just gratitude, Mr. Adalgrim. I don't think you are really in love with me.' She shook her head at my protests, and she told me she didn't think I was serious enough to fall in love!

"I'd never had a lass turn me down before!" Adalgrim's expression as he said this was still rueful and surprised. He was quite handsome, with the Tookish green eyes and chestnut hair, and he was endowed with not a small amount of native charm. Add to that his position as a grandson of the Old Took, and he'd had a bevy of lasses to admire (and even pursue) him ever since he entered his tweens. To have the one lass he found interesting turn him down must have been a shock.

Bilbo and Siggy exchanged a look, rolling their eyes, and then they both burst out laughing. "Poor old Chop!" Siggy exclaimed. "You set your sights on the one lass in the Shire who wouldn't return your interest!"

Adalgrim gave them a put-upon look. "Do you want to hear the story, or not?" They nodded.

"I got well, and things were pretty busy as we tried to keep things going while the winter went on-and then there was the news of Grandmother, and I managed to make my way to the Great Smials after I received the word. And then the wolves came..." He shuddered, and Bilbo and Siggy nodded sympathetically. Both of them remembered those days all too well.

"So I went off with the muster, and you know how that went, and when I finally got back, it was to discover that now Periwinkle was ill! At first, her family did not want me to help with nursing her, but then both Porro and Pomona fell sick as well. So I was able to help care for her, and her sister and brother as well. It was not easy, but we got through it, and everyone recovered."

"After that, Periwinkle decided that I might really be serious about her, but she wasn't sure I was serious enough to be a husband. It's taken a long time to convince her that I'm no longer the scamp and scapegrace that Grandfather sent away so I wouldn't be a bad example to the likes of you two!" He gave a laugh when he said this last, and suddenly flung a cushion from his chair at the two.

There ensued a brief scuffle with pillows and cushions, but they stopped, breathless and laughing after only a couple of minutes.

"Now look what you've done, lads! I'm all wrinkled!" He stood up to check himself in the full-length mirror in the corner of his room. "I'll have to change my shirt!"

Bilbo and Siggy exchanged a knowing look; Chop was fun and full of ideas, and he was a loyal friend, but he also had always been very vain about his appearance. They watched as he pulled out and discarded at least three shirts from his wardrobe before he found one that he thought would be right, and after shrugging into it, took his time deciding which studs he wanted to wear with it. Then he considered and changed his mind about changing his braces. Once he was all tucked in he pulled out two different waistcoats and held them side by side as he looked in the mirror. He looked at them briefly. "Do you think-no, never mind, I can see you are laughing at me!"

His cousins had not even snickered, but it was clear from their red faces and puffed out cheeks that they were trying to hold in their laughter. This wasn't the first time they'd watched him behaving this way. "The green and gold one, I think."

Once he was into his waistcoat, he went to his dresser and took up his brushes. Head first, he brushed his hair carefully. Then he took up his footbrush, paying special attention to the thick hair nearest his toes. He put the brushes back and picked up a small silver jar, opened it and dipped a finger in. Then he rubbed the pomade through his fingers, and then through his curls on both head and feet. He looked in the mirror again, and using one finger, he reached up and drew one curl around it and down over his forehead. He smirked at his reflection, and took his jacket off the stand on which it hung. Shrugging it on, he tugged at it until it hung just right. Then he turned this way and that as he looked in the mirror.

"You are a dandy, don't you know?" grinned Bilbo.

"He's worse than a lass," added Siggy.

"You'll understand when you're older, lads," he said. Then he laughed. "I am a dandy, I know that! But what can I do-I have to maintain the image, you know!" Adalgrim had the sense to recognise his vanity and to laugh at himself-but it did not stop him from preening.

He looked at the clock which hung on the wall by his door. It had been a coming-of-age gift from his grandparents-there was a little wooden bird that came out and sang on the hour. "Oh thunder!" he swore. "I promised to meet Periwinkle after the party, so we'd have time together for supper. You don't mind seeing yourselves out, do you, cousins?"

"No, no," Bilbo waved his hand airily. "Just be off with you; desert us for your lass!"

"After all," added Siggy, "come this Sterday you'll get to see her every day for the rest of your life."

"I knew you'd understand," he laughed, and he darted out the door.

Bilbo and Siggy looked at each other. "He's as full of himself as he ever was," said Bilbo.

"He definitely needs taking down a peg," added Siggy.

"I think I have an idea." Bilbo got up and went over to the dresser and picked up the jar of pomade and the hair brush. "What if..."

Siggy looked at Bilbo with admiration. "Now that is a prank worthy of our cousin, if ever one was!"

~~~~~~~~

*Author's Note: You may recognize the title of this story as a song lyric. In case you do not, it comes from Carly Simon's classic hit "You're So Vain".

Chapter 25: Two Days Before the Wedding

Mersday did not start out well for the Bagginses. Right after first breakfast, Bungo had one of his "turns". He grew light-headed, short of breath, and had a feeling of tightness in his chest. Belladonna sent Bilbo off to fetch the healer from her cottage on the other side of the West garden, and off he ran. His own heart felt tight as well--tight with fear as he remembered those dreadful days a few years back.

Mistress Lily came at once and looked Bungo over thoroughly, listening to his chest with a tube, and dangling her pendulum of amber on a silken cord. She prescribed an extra half-dose of the drops Mistress Rose had given him to take twice a day, as well as a day of rest and eating lightly. She then turned and eyed Belladonna's pale face, and made her sit there as the pendulum swung over her.

"Mistress Belladonna, you need to rest as well. You've a bad headache." She handed a little pouch to Bilbo. "Master Bilbo, that's a tea with some chamomile, valerian and willow-bark. You make some of that up for your mother, and see that she rests this morning."

"But I am supposed to help with the wedding preparations!" Belladonna protested.

Lily shook her head firmly. Old Mistress Posy had taught her to be quite strict with the Tooks who would be under her care. "I will let the Lady know that you are unable to help today. She'll understand." Isumbras' wife Duenna served as the Lady of the Great Smials since both the Old Took and his eldest son Isengrim were now widowed. Duenna was a Boffin by birth, and a hobbitess of good sense and great energy as well. She knew that the Thainship would eventually fall to her husband's line, though she worried about her son's attachment to Lalia Clayhanger. Duenna would most certainly understand about both Belladonna's health and that of her husband.

The healer looked at Bilbo. "I'll also let the kitchens know to send trays here for the rest of the meals, and make sure that you are not otherwise disturbed."

She gave Bilbo a reassuring smile as he saw her out of their guest quarters. When he turned back, he saw that his mother was already seeing his father into the bedroom. He went to their small kitchen to make up the tea, and when it was ready he took it to his mother. She'd already tucked Bungo into the bed, and his face looked less grey, and his breathing seemed easier. But he was already slipping into slumber.

Belladonna sat down in the armchair by the bed. Bilbo brought her a footstool and then handed her the teacup. He watched her sip it for a moment.

"I'm sorry, son," she said. "You shouldn't have to be waiting on me."

Bilbo bent over and kissed her cheek. "I love you, Mama. I don't mind." But in the back of his thoughts he did mind; oh, not the doing for her or for his father, but for the unfairness of it all. His parents were not at all old by hobbit standards, and yet sometimes it seemed that they were already frail and elderly. Their health had been stolen away by the Fell Winter, and he never ceased to worry about them, ever since he'd had to take care of them then. But he tried not to show any of that in his face. He went to potter about the sitting room for a few minutes, and then returned to collect the teacup--his mother was already asleep. He picked up a folded quilt from the foot of the bed and draped it over her carefully.

Then he found a book in the sitting room, and sat down to read until the servants brought second breakfast.

~~~~~~~

Mistress Lily must have been precise in her directions to the kitchen, for the meals brought to them were carefully prepared: something substantial for Bilbo, who was, after all a growing tween, and light soups, toast and fruit for his parents.

After luncheon, Belladonna declared she was feeling much better. "I want you to go out and get some fresh air and find some company of your own age. Don't argue with me, young hobbit," she said, quelling the protest she saw rising to his lips. "I feel quite well enough to watch over your father for now. You run along and find Siggy!"

And so he went out of their room in search of his cousin.

It took him a little while to track him down--he'd been running errands for the aunts. Right now he was sent with a message to the kitchens that deliveries from the butcher and the baker in town would arrive first thing in the morning. Bilbo tagged along with him. Errands to the kitchens were always devoutly to be desired. The cooks usually kept things on hand for any lads or lasses who came their way--it cut down on scrimping and larder raids.

Mistress Semolina was pleased to get the message, and rewarded the lads with cheese and sausage pasties. They wandered off chewing on their treats as they walked.

"That's the last of my errands," said Siggy. "Mother said I was free after I delivered that message."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you earlier--you might have finished sooner."

Siggy shook his head. "That's all right; it was mostly delivering messages or taking things from one place to another. It wouldn't have made things any quicker. It would have been nice to have your company, though. How are your parents doing?"

"They were both feeling better after luncheon. I think the travel and excitement was just too much for Papa; and then Mama worries about him and that makes her feel bad."

"Well, I've got a little good news. One of my errands was to the carpentry shop to tell Master Rob that one of the legs on the sideboard in the ballroom needs repair--it's quite wobbly--and I was able to get the glue we need." Master Robur Tunnelly was the woodwright and carpenter in charge of the little building where repairs were done or sometimes new pieces were made at the Great Smials.

Bilbo grinned. "We should have grabbed the other thing we needed from the kitchen while we were there."

Siggy shook his head. "How? We couldn't ask for it. They'd want to know why we needed it. And if we just tried to take it? They were too busy, too many people. Why don't we make a little trip to one of the smaller kitchens after supper? Those will be abandoned by that hour."

"We also need to get hold of the pomade," said Bilbo.

"Well, after we hit the kitchen, we can see if anyone is home in Uncle Hildigrim's apartments. If it's empty, we'll slip in and can get the pomade and check on things."

"Are we still going to make the switch tomorrow night?" asked Bilbo.

"Of course. Practically every adult male in the tunnels will be gone to The Bouncing Bunny to help Chop celebrate. The Bouncing Bunny was more properly named The Leaping Hare and was the most popular tavern in Tuckborough.

"Well, I need to go back and have tea with my parents. I'll ask them if I can take supper in the main hall tonight, and we can eat together, and then finalize the plans."

Siggy nodded. "Give my love to Aunt Bella and Uncle Bungo," he said. He was very fond of Bilbo's parents, who had often hosted him at Bag End.

~~~~~~~

After supper the two lads slipped out of the dining hall. They passed by the main kitchen, and headed for the auxiliary kitchen in the West wing. As they had suspected, no one was there this time of evening. It was easy enough to slip into the larder and liberate a bulb of garlic.

"We only need one clove," whispered Siggy.

"But they are less likely to miss a whole bulb from the string than they are to notice that one bulb has a clove missing!" said Bilbo. He carefully twisted the bulb free and dropped it into his pocket. The two of them left the kitchen and headed for Uncle Hildigrim's apartment. They'd had a stroke of luck at the tween's table at supper. They were sitting across from Porro, who revealed that all of the bride's immediate family and all of the groom's immediate family would be meeting in the Thain's study to go over the marriage contract one last time.

They walked right in, for naturally it was not locked, and made for their cousin's room. "Should we light the lamp?" asked Siggy.

Bilbo went to the window and pushed back the shutters. It was still quite light out. "I don't think we need to--it's less than a month to Midsummer."

The two lads went over to Chop's dresser. Siggy opened the top drawer. "Here it is." It was another jar of pomade. This one was a plain glass jar; made to fit inside the silver jar when it sat atop the dresser on the silver tray where Chop kept his brushes. Siggy slipped the spare jar into his jacket pocket. "He won't miss it. The other is still more than half full."

"That's all we need here for tonight," said Bilbo. "We don't want to leave any traces."

Amid soft snickers the two lads left the apartments and headed for those of Siggy's family, which were not far along the way in the same passage.

Bilbo said hello to his Uncle Hildibrand and his Aunt Myrtle, and the two went into Siggy's room where they collapsed on the bed, laughing. They had got clean away with this part of the prank!

Bilbo took the garlic from his pocket and separated a clove from the rest of the bulb. Then he scored it with his little penknife. Siggy produced the pomade. He used his handkerchief to scoop out a little of the greasy cream, and Bilbo tucked the garlic clove down into it, and they firmly screwed the lid down. Siggy wiped his fingers, and then sniffed them. "Whew!" he exclaimed. "I think the garlic may improve the odor! There was a distinct herbal and slightly floral scent about the pomade.

"Chop won't think so," said Bilbo with a grin. That set both of them to laughing once more.

Siggy placed the jar in the top drawer of his own dresser. "It should be nice and ripe by Sterday morning," he said.

The two cousins settled in to have a nice long visit, remembering some of the pranks that they had pulled with Chop, and the various scrimping raids and close calls they had. Once more they were laughing loudly, and they began to scuffle with one another. This brought a sharp rap on the door, and then Uncle Hildibrand stuck his head in. "Lads, it's getting late and tomorrow will be very busy. Bilbo, I'm sure that your parents are wondering where you are!"

Bilbo took the hint and bid Siggy good night. "I'll see you tomorrow, cousin!" He turned and winked, and Siggy stuck his tongue out. Then both of them turned red trying to suppress more laughter.

He went a few doors down to the quarters where he was staying with his parents. Both of them were sitting up and looking much better than either of them had in the morning. They were sitting together on the settee, his father's arm around his mother, and their faces lit up to see him. He went and sat on the floor and leaned against their knees.

"So did you have a nice evening, son?" asked Bungo.

"I did, Papa. But the best part is seeing you feel better."

~~~~~~~

Author's Notes: In my idea of the great ancestral halls such as the Great Smials and Brandy Hall, there are a number of kitchens. There's a main kitchen attached to the main dining hall. It's the main kitchen that's the central hub of food preparation from which most of the communal meals are issued. But there are at least four or five auxiliary kitchens, somewhat smaller. These are used sometimes by groups of hobbits who want to prepare meals together but don't have access to a private kitchen, also they are used to supplement the main kitchen in times when that may be necessary such as at holidays, or after harvest when much food is being preserved. Finally, most of the family quarters and even a few of the individual rooms have small galley type kitchens, where the hobbits who dwell there can prepare tea or light meals if they do not wish to go to the main dining hall and join the communal meals. The family quarters of the Thain (in the Great Smials) or of the Master (at Brandy Hall) have good-sized kitchens, more than galleys but somewhat smaller than the communal auxiliary kitchens.

Also the main communal dining halls at both places have a "high table" where the master of the smials presides, and then some lesser tables for the remaining kin who dwell there. There is always a "children's table" for children who are old enough not to need feeding, and a "tween's table" for those who are too old for the children's table.

The next morning after second breakfast with his parents, Bilbo came down the passage in the direction of the ballroom. His mother would be along soon, and he'd been sent ahead to see what he could do to help with the preparations. He did not mind, as he knew that Siggy would have been pressed into similar chores, as well as some of his other age mates among the cousins. As he went around a curve, he stopped.

A lass stood uncertainly at the intersection of two tunnels. She turned slightly and he realised it was Pomona Goldworthy. Her face lit up when she saw him.

"Oh! Bilbo can you help me? I seem to be lost."

Presented with a problem to solve, Bilbo's nervousness at being in the presence of a pretty lass of his own age receded. "Where were you going?"

"Your aunts sent me from the ballroom to fetch some things from a storage room; they said it was right up the passage, but I've walked and walked and walked..."

Bilbo smiled. "I think that you must have walked right past it. I'll show you where it is."

"Will you? Oh, that would be splendid!"

Bilbo blushed, but fell into step beside her. He cast his eyes down so she wouldn't see how red and flustered he was. Then he couldn't help but notice her feet: they were covered with thick and lustrous honey-brown curls, and her ankles were trim and dainty; there was a scarlet ribbon tied in a bow around her left one. He flushed again, even more this time, and looked away briefly until he felt more composed. If she noticed his discomfiture, she was too polite to say anything. Clearing his throat, he asked "Is your sister nervous about the wedding?"

Pomona chuckled. "Her nerves come and go. One moment she is giddy and excited and can't wait for the wedding, and then the next she is in despair about things that could possibly go wrong." She giggled. "Last night she was worrying about the colours of the flowers in her bridal wreath, whether they would match her gown. And then she was worrying that they'd wilt--good heavens, she was in a tizzy!"

Bilbo risked a smile at her. "I'm certain everything will be all right!" he said stoutly.

"Of course they will! Is your cousin nervous?"

"I don't really know! It's been so busy I haven't had much time for talking with him; Siggy and I visited with him Hensday evening, but I've scarcely laid eyes on Chop since then--and when I have he's been either busy or surrounded by other people." He stopped. "Here we are!" There was a door on their left.

It was Pomona's turn to blush. "Oh dear! I did walk right past that door without even seeing it." She opened it. "Thank you! I'm to fetch the green cords for attaching the greenery for garlands, and also a box of white candles and a couple of silver candlelabras, and there's supposed to be a long cloth for the sideboard..."

"I'll help you! I was going to find out what they needed me to do anyway."

A few moments later, they'd found everything; Bilbo was burdened with the cord, the candles and one of the candlelabras, and Pomona had the long cloth and the other candlelabra. It was only a short distance to the ballroom from there, and they no sooner entered the room than Aunt Duenna and Aunt Myrtle swooped down upon them.

"At last! What took you so long, child?" asked Aunt Duenna.

"I'm afraid I got lost, Lady Duenna. But Bilbo helped me find my way!"

"Bless you, lad!" His aunt bestowed an absent-minded kiss on his cheek, and sailed off with the items Bilbo had been carrying while Aunt Myrtle carried off the items Pomona bore. He noticed that Mrs. Goldworthy and her sons were there, but there was no sign of the bride--traditionally she was not supposed to be a part of these preparations which would be a surprise for her.

The rest of the morning and part of the afternoon was passed in a blur of activity. A table filled with food and drink was to one side of the room, out of the way, so that those who were helping to decorate the ballroom could help themselves when hungry or thirsty without having to stop for a regular meal. As Bilbo's mother put it when she arrived shortly after he did, "It's a better way to feed all these bottomless pits called tweens, anyway!" She winked at her son in passing as she said it, and he laughed. It was good to see his mother feeling well and in high spirits.

The servants saw to things like polishing the floor, cleaning the windows, dusting the furniture, and filling the chandeliers with candles. The lasses (and the ladies) were kept busy twining greenery and flowers into the green cords that Bilbo and Pomona had fetched, and hanging garlands from the big staircase (the only staircase like it in the Shire!) the window sills and the mantel of the huge fireplace on one side of the room, or arranging more flowers and greenery into huge vases. The lads (and those of their fathers and uncles who showed up) found themselves mostly in the roles of furniture arrangers and creatures of burden, as they busied themselves moving furniture where the matrons indicated, or fetched and carried as directed.

Bilbo and Siggy managed to get themselves assigned to the same tasks, which gave them plenty of time to discuss their plans for the evening. 

Bilbo often found himself glancing over in the direction of the lasses, who were chatting and giggling among themselves as they worked with the flowers.

Siggy noticed. "Ah ha!" he teased. "You're smitten! Who's taken your eye?"

Bilbo blushed. He wasn't sure if what he felt was "smitten" or not, but he didn't deny it. "Never you mind, Sigismund Took! Or perhaps we will discuss a certain lass you have an eye for! How is Miss Malva Hornblower, by the way?"

This quickly caused his cousin to drop the subject, as he'd yet to summon the courage to speak a word to the object of his admiration.

The lasses soon started to sing to their work:

Do you love an apple? Do you love a pear?
Do you love a laddie with curly brown hair?

Yes, I love him, I can't deny him,
I'll go with him where ever he goes.

He works on the farm for tuppence a day;
But we go a-walking on every Highday

Still I love him, I'll always love him;
I'll go with him wherever he goes.

He stands by my window, a pipe in his mouth,
His hands in his pockets, his whistles me out.

Still I love him, I'll always love him;
I'll go with him wherever he goes.

He brought me some ribbons, ribbons of yellow,
But Da said I can't wed a penniless fellow.

Still I love him, I'll always love him;
I'll go with him wherever he goes.

He saves up his tuppence, gave up ale for me,
And sooner or later we'll be thirty-three!

Still I love him, I'll always love him;
I'll go with him wherever he goes.

Oh, I love an apple! Oh, I love a pear!
Oh, I love a laddie with curly brown hair!

Yes, I love him, I can't deny him,
I'll go with him where ever he goes.*

Bilbo and Siggy rolled their eyes at one another; they might be beginning to notice the lasses, but that did not mean they liked silly love songs. Porro, who was working nearby, standing on a ladder to hang garland that was too high for the lasses, must have agreed, for he started up another song, quite loudly:

A little red apple
Hung high in a tree
I looked up at it
And it looked down at me
"Come down, please" I called
And what do you suppose?
That little red apple
Dropped right on my nose**

 This was soon joined in by the lasses as well, and was followed by "Nob O' the Lea" and "Down the Green Hills".

The work was finished (for the gentlefolk) before teatime, and the ballroom began to empty as they left to go clean up and get ready for the meal. 

~~~~~~~

Tea came and went, and so did supper.  Right after supper, the various uncles and cousins and other male hobbits who were of age, dragged Adalgrim off for a night of celebration.  Even Bungo had gone along, for he had rested most of the day and felt quite well. He rode in one of the pony traps along with some of the more elderly uncles, waving to his wife as they drove off.

Bilbo and Siggy waited only long enough to be sure they had all left, and no one would be returning for something they'd forgotten about. The two met in front of their cousin's quarters, Siggy carrying a dark lantern.

In they went to Chop's room with the items they'd prepared.

On top of the dresser was the silver tray on which their cousin's brushes, mirror and jar of pomade were kept. The two of them lifted it off and carried it over to the bed where it was more convenient to work.

They removed the inner jar of pomade from the silver jar, and replaced it with the garlic-treated pomade. Then working carefully, they applied the glue they had brought from the workshop to the backs of Adalgrim's brushes.

"You're certain it will come off without damaging anything?" asked Bilbo.

"A little hot water will dissolve it," said Siggy. "But he won't know that at first."

"Now for the spares," said Bilbo. He looked in the top drawer, but they weren't to be found there. In the second drawer he found what he was looking for: the little leather bag that held the brushes their cousin used when he travelled. They opened it and put in the original pomade they had taken out; then closed it up.

Grinning at one another mischievously, they placed it into the top drawer. "He'll still be able to find it," chuckled Bilbo, "but not before he panics!"

"Oh, how I wish we could see his face!" Siggy laughed.

"I know, but we can't. We shall just have to be content with second-hand reports."

Stifling their snickers, they left the apartment, and congratulating themselves once more, they went their separate ways to their own beds.

Tomorrow would be interesting.

~~~~~~~

*This song is adapted from an old folk song in the public domain: "Do you love an apple?" I've changed all the verses except the first one and the chorus to be more hobbity, as the lad in the original song was not nearly such a good catch as the one in my version.

**This song is also in the public domain, a nursery song, and I haven't changed it, though someday I might make more verses for it.

Author's Note: The ribbon around Pomona's ankle is a tribute to my online friend, RubyNye.

Bilbo and his family all slept late, right through first breakfast, and went to the main dining hall to take their second breakfast. Breakfast was always laid out on the sideboard there. His parents filled their plates and headed for the high table, while Bilbo made his selections: coddled eggs, a couple of scones, ham, sausage, fried mushrooms and potatoes, and some fruit compote, and a mug of tea. He thought about getting some bacon and toast as well, but then realised it might be hard to carry his plate. He could always go back for seconds.

He went to the tweens table, where he saw Siggy frantically waving at him. He was sitting next to Porro, and he had a huge grin on his face.

"Success!" his cousin snickered to him as he sat down.

Bilbo glanced at Porro.

"We can trust him," said Siggy.

"What's going on?" Porro asked.

Bilbo said, "All right, Siggy. Porro you have to promise not to tell a soul!"

"I promise!" he said.

Siggy filled Porro in on the details of their prank; the other lad's eyes grew wide with admiration.

"I would never have thought of such a thing ever! However did you come up with it?"

Bilbo laughed. "We had years of being taught by Chop himself. We just asked ourselves what would he do!"

"Anyway, I got up early," said Siggy, "And I went and managed to hang about Uncle Hildigrim's apartment; pretty soon Cousin Fortinbras came along, and I got him to take me in with him by offering to help with anything he might need doing. I wish you'd been there, too, Bilbo, but I didn't think of it until I woke up, and besides it might have been suspicious if both of us had been there…" Siggy said this rather apologetically, but Bilbo nodded. He would have liked to have been there, but Siggy was right.

"So Cousin Fortinbras knocked on Chop's door, but right then we hear this loud yell of 'THUNDER!' and then there were some other words" Siggy snickered again. "Cousin Fortinbras opened the door, and we went in. Chop had the tray from his dresser in both hands, upside down and shaking it furiously. The brushes and the silver jar were stuck tight, so that part worked perfectly!"

Bilbo could just imagine the scene. Siggy continued. "Chop was yelling about what he'd do to whoever had done it; Cousin Fortinbras took it and he tried to pull the brushes loose, but they were stuck tight. He put it down on the bed, and then tried the silver jar. He unscrewed the lid, and oh my word! The garlic worked a treat! Whew!" Siggy waved his hand in front of his nose, as if he could still smell it.

By now Bilbo and Porro were laughing until their eyes leaked. The other tweens further down the table looked over curiously.

"Poor Chop, he sat down on the bed all dejected. He'd bathed and was in his dressing gown, and he was wanting to get ready. He kept saying 'What am I going to do?' I felt sorry for him, and was just about to ask him why he didn't use his spares, when Cousin Fortinbras did."

Siggy shook his head. "Then Chop's face lit up and he ran and opened the second drawer. 'The swine!' he yelled. 'They've taken them, too!' So I said, 'Well, maybe they are just hidden somewhere in the room.' He and Cousin Fortinbras started looking around—in his nightstand, under the bed, on top of the wardrobe. I started at the bottom drawer and worked my way up—so he wouldn't get suspicious of my finding it too soon. When I took the little case out of the top drawer, he was so relieved he hugged me! I almost felt guilty!"

All three of them laughed even more hysterically, until Siggy noticed his mother frowning at him from the high table; Bilbo realised his mother had one eyebrow raised at him as well. She was unlikely to scold him, but she might be a little too curious later about what was so funny.  The three lads drew in deep breaths and then calmed themselves, turning their attention to their food. It would not do to let a good breakfast grow cold.

*******

The wedding guests began to gather in the ballroom near noon. The Bagginses went in among the first of the family—they needed to be near the front as Bungo was one of the witnesses.  Bilbo glanced down the row at where Siggy stood with his parents (for his father was a witness as well) and the two of them exchanged a brief grin of triumph. The tale of Adalgrim's morning surprise was already making the rounds—he told it on himself in fact, with much laughter, and a threat of reprisal should he discover the culprit who had done the deed.

On the dais where later on the musicians would play, stood the Thain. Old Gerontius rarely left his study, but for the weddings of his grandchildren he made an exception. To one side there was a table for the Wedding Contract; the groom and his witness stood next to it, and so did Gerontius.

When it was clear no other guests would appear, the bride descended the great staircase, accompanied by her witness and on the arm of her father, and made her way through the middle of the assembled guests to the dais. Her father helped both lasses to step up to the platform, and then retreated to stand by his wife in the front row of guests.

Bilbo saw his mother's hand slip into his father's, and they exchanged one of those looks that sometimes embarrassed him of late, yet at the same time left him with a warm and joyful heart.

“I have before me two hobbits who have come with a petition of marriage. Who will vouch for them?” Gerontius' voice was still strong enough to be heard clearly throughout the ballroom.

“I am Fortinbras Took, a hobbit of Tuckborough. I present Adalgrim Took, a hobbit of Whitwell, known to me as a hobbit of good character, who is of age, with no reasons why he should not be wed.”

 “I am Larkspur Whitfoot, a hobbitess of Michel Delving. I present Periwinkle Goldworthy, a hobbitess of Whitwell, known to me as a hobbitess of good character, who is of age, with no reasons why she should not be wed.” Larkspur was one of Periwinkle's cousins on her mother's side; she and Periwinkle had been close friends for years; Periwinkle had spent summers with Larkspur's family for several years.

“Adalgrim Took, is it your intent to wed Periwinkle Goldworthy, of your own free will?”

“It is,” he answered firmly. He glanced over at his bride, pride in his face. He drew a deep breath in and let it out slowly.

“Periwinkle Goldworthy, is it your intent to wed Adalgrim Took, of your own free will?”

“Yes,” she exclaimed clearly and rather more loudly than she meant to. She blushed.

“Adalgrim and Periwinkle, you have declared before witnesses your intent to wed. The duties of marriage are to honour and support one another; the blessings of marriage are to love and respect one another. These duties and these blessings are meant to last for a lifetime. Are you prepared to take on these tasks, through such joys and sorrows as may in time come to you?”

“Yes, we are!”  

Gerontius looked out at the assembled hobbits as he prepared to speak the more personal part of the ceremony; this was a chance for the officiator to say what was in his own heart about the young couple being wed. "I am very proud to be able to officiate at this marriage of a grandson of my line. There was once a time when I thought young Adalgrim would never grow up; I could not be more pleased to be wrong. He has grown into a fine and responsible hobbit, dutiful and steady with the task I have given him. Much of the credit for that can be given to Periwinkle, who inspired him to put aside childish things and take up the responsibilities of adulthood; yet he still retains a sense of humour and I daresay that he has passed on his ability to laugh and enjoy the wonder in life to his chosen bride. Together they will blend their differences to create a new family.

They have already been through difficult times together, so I have no doubts they can weather the storms of life that are surely ahead, as well as the showers of blessings."

He smiled at the two of them, who were looking at him with shining eyes. He was quite proud of his grandson at this time; Periwinkle had been the making of the young scapegrace.

The bride and groom stared into one another's faces, and took a half-step closer together. Periwinkle pressed one hand to her breast, as if to calm the beating of her heart.

“Would the designated witnesses step forward: Fortinbras Took, Pando Goldworthy, Isembold Took, Isembard Took, Pico Goldworthy, Isengar Took, and Bungo Baggins."

Bilbo watched as his father reluctantly let go of Belladonna's hand. She pressed his arm, then patted it as he made his way, with the other witnesses, to the table where the Marriage Lines were laid out, along with a quill and a bottle of red ink. His mother chuckled softly; Bilbo looked up at her with a puzzled expression. She said softly, "It's only fitting he witness this wedding; the first wedding he ever witnessed was that of your cousin's parents! It's where we met, after all, at Hildigrim and Rosa's wedding!"

Bilbo's eyes grew wide. He had nearly forgotten all about that. He grinned--it was rather amusing. He watched as each witness stepped forward one at a time to sign his name--his father was the last, he dipped the quill and wrote briskly, then stepped back as the bride and groom signed, and finally his grandfather signed it. Then Gerontius picked up the candle that burned upon the table, spilled a bit of wax and the bottom, and pressed his seal into it.

 “With the signing of this document, and by my authority as Thain and as Took, I now declare these two hobbits are husband and wife.” He took their hands and placed them together. “I present to you: Mr. and Mrs. Adalgrim Took!”

He placed a hand on their shoulders and turned them to face the assembled hobbitry, who all clapped and cheered. "You may now kiss the bride!" he added.

Adalgrim wrapped his arms around her, and drew her into his embrace, kissing her quite thoroughly--just this side of scandalous! There were whistles and hoots from some of his friends. Periwinkle drew back and gave her groom a rather dazed look. He just gave her a rather lopsided grin.

********

The Wedding Feast lasted for a while. Once more Bilbo and Siggy sat at the tweens table; as mere cousins they would not be at the table with the Bride and Groom. Porro and Pomona, as sibs of the bride, however were.

The magnificent wedding cake was brought in, a masterpiece of confectionary several layers high and covered in fondant and festooned with marzipan flowers. Of course it was not large enough to serve all the guests; small fairy cakes made to the same receipt and covered with the same decorations were distributed to most of the guests. But all watched the high table as the cake was cut, and the pieces were passed around. They wanted to see who found the silver penny—there was much laughter when the bride's older brother Pando stopped mid-bite, and drew the coin from between his teeth! He grinned sheepishly, and turned to kiss his wife.

After the ceremony, the Thain had retired to his study once more;  Uncle Isengrim was presiding over the high table. He made a gesture to Fortinbras, who as Adalgrim's witness, stood to raise the traditional wedding toast: “Adalgrim Took and the lovely Periwinkle Goldworthy—now Took: Love! Luck! And a hole filled with many Little Blessings!”

Then Uncle Isengrim rose and proclaimed: "We've had a fine feast! Now let us return to the ballroom for music and dancing!"

Bilbo and Siggy followed the crowd making their way to the ballroom. The bride and groom and their respective witnesses would wait until the guests were all assembled. But soon enough they arrived, to much cheering and applause, and the musicians struck up the first music.

Hobbits love to dance; even the very young hobbits, once they were steady upon their feet, would join in the circle dances and reels with abandon. The first dance was a pavanne, a dignified affair, and not much more than a slow march of the couples around the ballroom done to the music; it was led by the bridal couple.

But no sooner did the pavanne end than the musicians struck up a lively circle dance called the Southfarthing brawl. Belladonna took her son by the hand and they hurried to be a part of the dance. Other hobbits rushed to join the circle, for there were no couples in this. They all joined hands and took sideways steps, first to the left and then to the right; then dropping hands they stepped to the center, clapped three times and then backed out again to repeat the process. It would have been a very simple matter, save that with each repetition the music went faster and faster. Some of the older hobbits dropped out about halfway through. When the music finally ended, the dancing and clapping had reached a frenzy, and the dancers were breathless.

This was followed by another slow dance done in sets of four. Bilbo and his mother retreated, laughing to the sidelines by the punch table, where Bungo waited with a cup for them both. He had partnered his wife in the pavanne, and he might perhaps join her for some of the statelier dances later, but for the rest he would sit them out.

Bilbo joined in nearly all the lively circle dances, and some of the reels, but the dances that called for couples in sets or on their own, he avoided unless his mother wanted to dance. Still he kept looking wistfully over to the other side of the ballroom where Pomona and and many of the other younger tween lasses stood about. They too were either dancing with their fathers or brothers, or were joining in the circle dances. Suddenly he felt his mother looking over his shoulder. "Why don't you ask her for the next dance? I believe it's to be a springle-ring."

Bilbo blushed bright red. "Who do you mean?"

"Why, the bride's sister, Pomona, of course. That is who you've been admiring all afternoon, is it not?" She gave him a gentle push to his shoulders. "Go on with you. I promise she won't bite you."

He turned and gave her a look of pleading, but her smile was firm, and she shook her head. Step by step he approached the lasses. He could feel that his face was on fire.

All of the lasses stared at him, and some of them were giggling nervously. He approached Pomona. "M-miss Pomona," he said, as he had always been taught, "w-would you honour me with the next dance?"

She blushed nearly as red as he, but said softly, "I'd be pleased to, Master Bilbo."

Just then the music began to start, and there was no time for embarrassment. With only a slight hesitation they took their positions: Bilbo with his right arm across her shoulders, holding her right hand, and both holding their left hands straight out, they stood side by side behind all the other couples as the dance began. The music was quick and light; forward they skipped and backwards, and then Bilbo twirled her nicely beneath his arm. He'd been nervous; after all he'd never danced this with anyone but his mother before--but soon they were both caught up in the music and the joy of their movements and forgot all about nerves.

It wasn't the last time they danced together that afternoon.

*******

Time passed pleasantly enough as the hobbits enjoyed the party. After a while the musicians took a break and servants began to bring food out to the sideboard; the lasses mostly went off to "refresh themselves", the matrons were gathering to gossip, and the fathers and uncles were discussing things among themselves. It was a relatively quiet interlude, and Bilbo and Siggy found time enough to talk to each other again.

"I'm glad you asked Pomona to dance," Siggy said. "That helped me to get up the nerve to ask Malva !

Bilbo just blushed slightly and grinned. He still could not believe he'd had the nerve to ask Pomona--but then he'd never been able to say 'no' to his mother.

Just then both lads felt a familiar arm fall across their shoulders, and they looked in surprise to see the bridegroom standing between them. He had a cup of punch in each hand.

"Well, cousins," he said cordially, "I've been neglecting the two of you this visit, but I daresay you can understand why."

Both of them looked at him warily. He had that look in his eye. Bilbo said, "Of course we understand, Chop...I mean Adalgrim. And congratulations on the wedding."

Siggy nodded warily; Bilbo began to feel slightly apprehensive.

"By the way, cousins, that was excellently played this morning. I could not have done better myself." He pulled them into a hug, and as he did, he tipped each hand, so that the punch poured all down their shirtfronts. "Oh dear! I'm so sorry!" he said cheerfully and insincerely. "But you can consider us even, as I am in a very mellow mood today. I just got married." He walked away chuckling.

Bilbo and Siggy looked at one another. "I think we got off easy," said Bilbo, trying to dab at his shirt with his handkerchief.

Siggy was doing the same. "I think you're right."

Summer, S.R. 1315

The wedding was over; Adalgrim and Periwinkle were gone, returning to the farm at Whitwell to begin their new life together, and now the guests began to consider their return to their own homes.

Bilbo and Siggy had begged for Siggy to return with the Bagginses to Hobbiton for a visit, and Hildibrand and Myrtle did not object overmuch to the idea, for they knew how fond of one another the lads were. They also appreciated that their son usually returned from a visit with his cousin newly motivated for his lessons. Belladonna and Bungo were also pleased to have Sigismond visit--there were now few lads of Bilbo's age in Hobbiton, and most of those were already busy with apprenticeships or even already working at jobs.

But there was another surprise for the lads: young Rory Brandybuck was also coming along to Bag End! As Master of Buckland, Gorbadoc could not long absent himself from Buckland, but his wife Mirabella wished to stay for a longer visit with her father and her sibs. So it was arranged that thirteen-year-old Rory would also go along for his first visit to Bag End, his first visit, truly, anywhere without his parents. He was thrilled at the idea, for he adored his older cousins.

Bilbo was equally excited, for he was very fond of the little Brandybuck; Siggy was canny enough to keep his own reservations to himself; he was fond of Rory himself, but he also knew the child had a penchant for falling into trouble. Still, little Rory would only be staying two weeks, while Siggy would get to be there for a month at the least, so he could afford to be generous. At any rate, both lads were added to the carriage for the journey back to Hobbiton.

The lads ended up enjoying themselves immensely after all was said and done. Bungo's sessions of lessons were livened by the presence of the younger child, and he often would set one of the older two to tutoring the younger--usually Bilbo would help Rory with his reading and writing; but when it came to sums, Siggy was far more clever in helping the little one to understand.

Siggy taught Rory to climb trees, though he could seldom coax the child higher than the lowest branches of the rooftree; and Rory taught his older cousins a trick or two when the three went fishing on the Water. Belladonna was amused at how much better the catch was now, and fish and chips became a regular item on the Baggins' supper menu.

Rory also attempted to teach his older cousins how to swim. After several abortive tries, Siggy learned to propel himself in the water awkwardly, and Bilbo at least had learned how to hold his breath and keep from sinking. But mostly they preferred to sit upon the bank and watch little Rory frolicking about like a young otter, shaking their heads in amusement at his antics, and yelling when he would splash them--though not really in anger, for the Sun was hot, and the water was cool.

Sometimes little Drogo, who was seven now, would come with his sister Dora up to Bag End. Dora was learning to knit and crochet from Belladonna, as well as being tutored by Bungo. Since Rory was there, Bilbo and Siggy would include Drogo in their plans if they were not going anywhere too far abroad, since they had Rory to help mind him.

One day, near the end of Rory's stay, Uncle Bingo came to call from Overhill, bringing with him his son Falco, who was twelve. They arrived just after elevenses, and Dora and Drogo had just arrived for Dora's lessons. Belladonna took one look at all the overexcited lads, and decided they needed to get out of the hole.

"Mrs. Twofoot tells me that the brambleberries are ripe along the Bywater road, lads. If I give you a picnic to take with you, will you return with enough berries for me to make enough pies for supper? With guests, I'll need enough for at least four pies."

Bilbo carried the hamper, filled with enough food and drink to suit five growing lads, while the others carried the berry-baskets. It was a pleasant enough walk. They had to go slowly enough to accommodate little Drogo's legs; Rory and Falco kept finding interesting things to look at in the ditches along the way; and Bilbo and Siggy traded off carrying the picnic basket. Pretty soon they saw the bramble bushes which grew with abandon on the other side of the road from the ditch. The lads decided to eat their picnic first: Belladonna had included a large stone bottle of cold tea, mushroom pasties, sandwiches of sharp cheese and pickles, carrots, and pears. They settled on the verge on the North side of the Road beneath a large oak tree, and soon had devoured everything except the napkins the food had been wrapped in and the stone bottle. Since they were near the Water, Siggy took the bottle, rinsed it, and filled it with clear water. Bilbo wet a couple of the napkins and used them to wipe off the hands and faces of the younger cousins.

"Now for the business at hand!" he declared. Each took their basket and headed over to fill them up. Young hobbits are uncommonly fond of brambleberries, and for the chance of their treat did not much mind the inevitable scratches from the thorns. They were mindful of Belladonna's request for enough berries to make pies with, and so they only consumed about half of what they were picking. (Bilbo and Siggy being slightly more mindful than the younger ones.) When they grew hot and thirsty they drank of the water in the stone bottle. Little Drogo began to grow tired however, before the older ones were ready to quit. Bilbo coaxed the little one to lie down in the shade of a copse of trees by a bend in the road, where he soon was softly snoring; then Bilbo returned to berry-picking.

Not long after, even Rory and Falco had full baskets as they had grown sated with the blackberries. Bilbo looked at the Sun. "If we are to get back by teatime, we should quit now and head back to Bag End."

Siggy wiped his forehead with a rather dirty checked handkerchief and looked at Rory and Falco labouring under the weight of their baskets, at their reddened and berry-stained faces, and their dirty and sweaty clothes. "We should probably let the younger ones rest a few minutes," and to this Bilbo agreed. They wandered back to the shady copse where little Drogo was still napping and flung themselves down on the cool grass. It was very restful and Bilbo and Siggy soon found their eyelids drooping.

"Can we hit it?"

"I don't see why not."

"But what if they are angry?"

The whispered voices penetrated Bilbo's foggy mind. Who was that, whispering away, disturbing his sleep?

"Oh, we can outrun them, I'm sure." Was that Rory?

"Honeycomb would be mighty fine..." Honeycomb?

Bilbo sat up abruptly, glancing around wildly--there were the two younger cousins hefting stones in their hands. "NO!" he shouted.

But it was too late. Two stones flew threw the air with hobbit accuracy, and the beehive came dropping from the tree limb. A loud buzzing and a cloud of bees came zooming out, swirled through the air and then like a cloud of doom headed straight for all the young hobbits. Siggy had wakened at Bilbo's shout, and taking in the situation, screamed "RUN!"

Bilbo grabbed little Drogo who had wakened in confusion and took to his heels, following in the wake of his cousins. The first sting was to the back of his neck and the next one was to his arm, and after that he rather lost track. He bent over as he ran to try and shield Drogo, but the child suddenly let out with a cry as he, too, was stung. The lads raced across the road shrieking, and plunged into the Water.

And now Falco was flailing. "I'm going to drown! I'm going to drown!" Rory swam to his side and took hold of him.

"Calm down, I've got you. I've got you. It's not even that deep here, put your feet down."

Drogo was sobbing against Bilbo's chest. Above them the angry swarm swirled around once more, and then flew off into the distance. The lads emerged dripping wet. At least most of the berry stains were washed off their faces, enough to show the beginnings of the swollen bee stings. They all looked dreadfully bedraggled and woebegone.

"Well," said Siggy, "that was an adventure." He shook his head, and then looked across the Road to the copse where their baskets were. "Whose brilliant notion was it to knock down that bee's nest?"

Rory and Falco exchanged crestfallen glances. "I guess it was mine," Rory said, hanging his head. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Bilbo and Siggy looked at one another, and then burst out laughing. "Where have we heard that before?" said Bilbo.

"Well, you can't blame this one on a Took!" Siggy said smugly. He ruffled Rory's hair. "Let's collect the baskets, and we might as well take the honeycomb as well, since you went to all that trouble."

None of them were looking forward to the long trudge back now. They were wet and sore and miserable. Falco and Rory had the worst of the stings, but none of them were unscathed. Little Drogo, protected by Bilbo, had the fewest, only three that they could find, but he was too exhausted from their fright to walk, and so Bilbo continued to carry him. This left Siggy with three baskets, one of them the picnic hamper. Rory and Falco carried the others, which were now heavier with their burden of berries.

"We'll never make it home by teatime," Bilbo said.

Siggy shrugged, and on they trudged. But they had not gone far when they heard the sound of pony hooves and cart wheels behind them. They moved to the side of the road.

The cart was driven by a farmer from Bywater, whom Bilbo knew, and it pulled up and stopped. "You look like you've had a time of it, Master Bilbo," he said sympathetically.

"Good afternoon, Farmer Cotman*. My cousins and I were berrying, and got stung by bees."

"So I see, lads. Well, climb in. I've a need to go into Hobbiton to pick up a plowshare from the blacksmith; I'll give 'e a ride up to Bag End."

With sighs of relief the children got into the waggon; they all put the baskets in, and Siggy climbed in and took Drogo from Bilbo, and then the rest clambered in. They were so tired (and Bilbo so worried about what his parents would say) that they were quiet all the way back. When they went to get down, Farmer Cotman took Drogo, and went up to the front door with them.

Belladonna clucked over them, inspecting them and scolding them by turns; Uncle Bingo went to fetch the healer, Mistress Rose. And Bungo went to draw baths for the lads. Farmer Cotman was invited to stay for tea, and was sent home with one basket of the berries as a thank you for his help.

Mistress Rose arrived, clucking over the mishap. She had a minty smelling poultice for the beestings, and prescribed willowbark and chamomile tea. "They may run a low fever; all of them are somewhat sunburned as well as stung. Make sure they drink a lot of water and keep them indoors and quiet tomorrow."

Drogo fell asleep quickly, and Bungo bundled him up and he and Bingo went down the Hill to deliver the child to his parents.

Bilbo, Siggy and Rory were all sound asleep in Bilbo's bed, little Rory in the middle.

Mirabella and Gorbadoc (who had come back to collect his family) arrived the following afternoon, and were suitably impressed by Rory's account of their "adventure".

Much to Bungo and Belladonna's relief, Mirabella and Gorbadoc were more amused than alarmed by the event.

All Gorbadoc did was fix his son with a gimlet eye and say: "Did you learn your lesson about chucking stones at beehives?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good! When we get home to Buckland, I'll teach you the proper way to harvest a honeycomb!"

Rory was somewhat tearful over the impending separation from his cousins, but his sorrow was amended when Belladonna promised that Bilbo could come to Brandy Hall for a visit in the fall after his birthday!

"Oh joy!"

Bilbo was both surprised and pleased at this; apparently his parents had decided he was old enough to make such visits on his own, now.

It was the first of many such excursions over the Brandywine for Bilbo Baggins, and he learned to love Brandy Hall quite well. 

*******

*Yes, this is the Cotman from the Longfather Tree of Master Samwise in Appendix C, and he is Rose Cotton's great-grandfather. He and Mistress Rose, the healer, will eventually make a match of it.

Author's Note: Sections of this story previously appeared as a challenge story: "A Midsummer Night's Dream".  

Midsummer, S.R. 1319

“Come in, Bilbo-lad, come in. I can’t see you properly from all the way over there.”

Bilbo entered, shutting the door behind him carefully, and padded across the polished oak floor of the study. His grandfather lay upon a settee where he was bundled up in a knitted coverlet. Though it was mid-summer, a fire blazed in the hearth, and the room felt stifling.

“Hullo, Grandfather,” he said politely. He hoped his nervousness did not show. It had been a while since he had seen his Grandfather, and Gerontius looked older than ever. It was frightening to see how frail he looked.

But the green eyes twinkled back at him, as sharp and curious as ever. “It’s good to see you again, my lad.” He coughed, and then pulled himself up to almost a sitting position. “Have a seat, Bilbo.”

Bilbo looked behind him. The armchair was too far away for comfortable conversation. He pulled the footstool close, instead, and sat down near his grandfather’s side. Gerontius put out a withered hand, and Bilbo took it between his own. The skin felt thin and dry. “I have missed you, Grandfather.”

Gerontius smiled. “I know that it is not your fault you have not seen me these last few years.”

When young Fortinbras had married Lalia Clayhanger only a few months after Adalgrim's wedding, Belladonna had declined the invitation. She'd used Bungo's health as a reason, but Bilbo knew that wasn't her only one. She did not like Lalia, and said she had a bad feeling about her. They'd not been back to the Great Smials since, though Bilbo had paid a couple of short visits by himself to Whitwell to see Adalgrim and Periwinkle, once for the Naming Day of their first child little Pearl, who had been born only a year after the wedding, and then again a few months ago for his cousin's birthday. Only the news that Gandalf was coming back to the Shire for the Tookland Litheday celebrations, with his famous fireworks, had brought his mother to reconsider their attendance. She was very fond of the old wizard, and thought that the chance of seeing him once more was worth the annoyance of seeing Lalia.

“I wish I could see you more often,” said Bilbo.

His grandfather laid a gentle hand against his cheek briefly. “I know that you do. Tell me how you are getting on in Hobbiton, amidst all of those stuffy Bagginses, lad?” But he said it with a twinkle in his green eyes, and Bilbo did not take offence.

“I get on well enough. But none of them are so much fun as Chop and Siggy,” he replied cheekily.

“Yes, well, I daresay none of them get you into as much trouble, either,” he chuckled.

Bilbo blushed, but he laughed as well. “I am too old for such things now, Grandfather,” he said.

“Of course you are, a great tween like yourself! Why you are nearly of age!”

“I’ll be twenty-nine on my birthday.”

Just then, there was a sharp rap at the study door.

“Would you go see who it is, Bilbo-lad?”

Bilbo got up and went across the room, and just before he opened the door there was another rap. Bilbo’s eyes grew wide. “Gandalf!” he exclaimed. “Grandfather, it’s Gandalf!”

“Well, don’t just stand there, let him in!!”

Bilbo stood back nervously. He had not come face to face with the wizard in eight years--since the little incident with the fireworks.  He cleared his throat and stood back.

“H-Hello, Gandalf,” he stammered. “Grandfather says to come in.”

His tall figure bent nearly double to enter the door, but once inside he could stand easily, for the ceilings at the Great Smials were much higher than normal hobbit-ceilings. He walked over to the settee, and greeted Gerontius.

“My old friend,” he exclaimed heartily, “it’s so good to see you once more!” He bent down and took the Old Took’s hands between his own. “I have missed you!”

“And I you,” was the answer.

Bilbo stood there placing his weight first on one foot and then on the other, biting his lip. Should he stay, or should he go?

His grandfather answered his unspoken question. “Run along, Bilbo-lad! I will see you later. You and your parents are to take supper with me before the bonfire and the fireworks tonight.”

Gandalf looked at him beneath lowered brows, though the sternness was belied by the twinkle in his eye. “I believe that you will find I have abundant fireworks for tonight! There will be no need for you to steal them!”

Bilbo blushed furiously, and giving a quick bow of farewell, he backed out of the room and closed the door. Then he rushed off to find Siggy and Rory and let them know the wizard had arrived; and he didn't seem to be angry with them any longer, though he was teasing about it.

Gandalf chuckled as he sat down opposite Gerontius. “He is a very remarkable young hobbit.”

Gerontius smiled. “I think, in spite of his Baggins heritage, that he is one of the most Tookish of my grandchildren! His adventurous nature was somewhat subdued by the Fell Winter, however. He is far more cautious than he used to be. But I think that the Tookishness is just below the surface, ready to burst forth if the right occasion comes along.”

Gandalf nodded. “I think that you are quite right, my friend. So, can I coax you out of your cosy den tonight with the promise of bright explosions?”

“I think perhaps you may, Gandalf! I would quite like to see your fireworks once more.” Unspoken were the words, “before I die”.

Gandalf nodded. He knew what his friend did not say.

The word had spread: the Old Took was going to come out of his room this night! He would come to the bonfire, and he would watch Gandalf's fireworks. The news was greeted with great joy by most of his children and relatives and was much discussed at teatime.

Lalia however, seemed determined to rain on the party. She clung to Fortinbras' arm like a limpet, and kept saying things like: "Oh, I do so hope that this isn't too much for the poor old thing. I'm sure that being out in the night air can't be good for his lungs. And what if all the loud noises frighten him? He could have a seizure of the heart."

Bilbo could see his mother's jaw clench. He knew she was getting very angry at Lalia's pointed remarks, but she didn't want to cause a scene and possibly upset his father, who truth be told, was much more likely to have a heart attack than the Old Took.

Aunt Citrine however, rolled her eyes and snorted. As a healer, she could get away with being rude sometimes. "Stuff and nonsense, lass! The fresh air will do him good--that study of his is entirely too hot and stuffy. As for the noises, he's been accustomed to Gandalf's fireworks for longer than anyone--he's always been delighted with them, and it can only do him good to be reminded of happier times! Stop being such a wet blanket, child!"

Lalia's eyes widened in shock at being spoken to that way, and then her dark eyes hardened. She never forgot a grievance, as everyone knew. But Aunt Citrine just arched an eyebrow at her, as if daring her to say something else.

Fortinbras tugged at her and gestured in the direction of the tea table. "My dear, I do believe that I saw that cherry and walnut cake you are so fond of on the table." This immediately took her attention off Aunt Citrine, and she headed straight for the table. She had already had seconds of most of the things there. In the few years since she had married, her figure had gone beyond buxom and she was now more than stout. Yet food was the thing that would distract her whenever she grew unpleasant to those around her.

Citrine shook her head. Lalia had borne little Ferumbras only a year after the marriage, and she had been putting weight on more and more ever since. It couldn't be good for her health, for she seldom did anything except sit about eating sweets and gossiping with any who would listen to her calumnies. She left everything to the servants, and she ran her chambermaid Begonia ragged. The healer was certain that it would cause trouble down the road. Oh, well, it was not her responsibility, for Lalia refused to use her services, preferring those of a healer out of Tuckborough--one who was easily cowed by Lalia's position.

Bilbo and Siggy had watched the whole thing wide-eyed, and Bilbo was more than a little shocked. "Things are a lot different around here than they used to be," he said.

Siggy shook his head. "You've no idea, cousin! You should be glad you live in Hobbiton! I'm just glad that Cousin Fort was able to distract her; you've never heard anything until you've heard one of her tantrums!" He sighed, and then looked at the tea table hopefully. "Do you suppose she's left any of that cherry-walnut cake for anyone else?"

That night, tucked up snugly beneath a rug, in a large wheeled chair, Gerontius was the center of his family. Bilbo could not get very close to him, for all his aunts and uncles were nearby, rejoicing in the fact that their father had seen fit to come out of his room on a beautiful summer’s night.

Gandalf’s fireworks had been brilliant, like a fiery flower garden, Bilbo thought. The wizard had been generous as well with squibs and crackers and sparklers--abundant fireworks, as he had said. Now the family and villagers from nearby Tuckborough listened to fiddle and harp and drum, and some of the couples were still dancing, but it was clear that the night was winding down.

Bilbo gave a great sigh--he did not know if it was a sigh of satisfaction for a wonderful evening, or of sorrow that the evening was soon to end.

“Well, Bilbo Baggins,” rumbled the deep voice of the wizard from behind him, “did you enjoy the fireworks even though they were not stolen?”

Bilbo looked up at him. “Yes, sir! They were the most splendid thing I’ve ever seen! Like lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire, like a whole garden of fire! I will never forget it--or you!”

Gandalf laid a hand on his head gently, and bent down to look into his eyes. “Never is a long time, young hobbit. I think that you will forget for a time--but when the time is right, you will indeed remember!”

What a very peculiar thing to say! thought Bilbo. But then his attention was caught by his cousin Siggy, pulling him to come and join the Tangle Dance, in which all hobbits young and old, joined in.

Midsummer of 1319 was the last time Bilbo saw his Grandfather Gerontius to speak to. When his family returned at Yule, the Old Took was too ill for conversation, and he passed from life only a few weeks later, in the early Solmath of 1320.

It was many years, however, before Bilbo saw Gandalf again. Over the years, that magical evening gradually came to seem like a long-ago and faded dream, and when he did remember, he found it most peculiar that he could have nearly forgotten so remarkable a personage.

Halimath, S.R. 1320

The first time it happened was shortly before Bilbo's thirtieth birthday. He often sat in with his father as he taught his pupils. By now, Bilbo simply pursued his own scholarly interests, reading and writing of the things that interested him, and then later on would share those things in discussion with Bungo. So he'd sit comfortably in a chair with a book while his father's student of the day would be working with Bungo on whatever lesson he'd been set. Often the room was quiet, the only sound the turning of pages and the scratching of a quill, interrupted once in a while by the murmur of a pupil's question and Bungo's soft answer.

That day, Bilbo was absorbed in a history of the building of the Great Smials when he gave a start. Young Tongo Goodbody stood by him looking perplexed. "Cousin Bilbo? I'm finished with my essay. What should I do?" he whispered.

On the verge of asking "Why are you asking me?" he glanced over and saw that Bungo had apparently fallen asleep in the chair at his desk.

Bilbo was loathe to wake his father. He seemed to be resting peacefully, and breathing well--not something he was always able to manage at night when sleeping in his bed. "Here, Tongo, let me take a look at it for you."

He began to read it over: an essay on one of the lad's great-grandfathers, who had served a term as Mayor. For a lad of Tongo's age, it was not too bad. Bilbo quietly pointed out a couple of words that could be changed, and some missing punctuation, and handed it back.

"Thank you," Tongo said. He went to make his corrections, and then showed them to Bilbo.

"That's very good. I'll put it aside for Papa to mark later on when he is feeling better. Did he have any other lessons for you today?"

Tongo shook his head. "I am supposed to work on sums when I come next time, though."

Bilbo nodded, and got up from his chair; he went over to the bookcase where Bungo kept mostly teaching material. There was a large leather folder there containing unbound sheets of paper with various lessons on them--Bilbo opened it and thumbing through, found one containing a set of problems appropriate to Tongo's age. "Take these home to practice on your slate, so you'll be prepared when you come back on Monday."

"Thank you, Cousin Bilbo. Will Cousin Bungo be all right?"

"I'm sure he will," Bilbo answered, "you can go home now, cousin."

The lad nodded and tiptoed out.

Bilbo went over and placed a soft kiss on his father's forehead, capped the ink bottle, put his father's quill in its stand, and then returned to his chair and his book. A short while later, Bungo woke with a start. "Where-where's Tongo?"

"I sent him home. He had finished his essay; I looked it over." Bilbo brought it over to his father's attention, and showed him the errors he'd marked.

Bungo read it and nodded. "You did well, son. But it is so embarrassing to have fallen asleep in front of one of my students! Whatever will he think? And what will he tell his parents?"

To this Bilbo had no answer, though he believed the lad would be discreet.

It happened again about a month later. This time the pupil was young Dora Baggins; but Bilbo had been paying attention, and when his father began to droop, he took over immediately, helping her to finish her assignment, and then sending her out to practice her needlework under his mother's watchful eye. From that time on, Bilbo made it a point to sit in on all the lessons; and Bungo, when he felt himself grow drowsy, would excuse himself, leaving Bilbo to complete the lesson.

Afteryule, S.R. 1321

The second week of Afteryule, Bungo had a serious turn that put him a-bed and in the care of the healer once more. This time it was Mistress Sage, for Rose Greenhand had wed Farmer Cotman two years earlier, and moved to Bywater.

Belladonna had her hands full tending him, for it was a very close thing to him developing the lung fever once again. For the first week of his illness, Bilbo and his mother were in constant attendance on him, and their care made the difference, for he began to rally the following week. Mistress Sage, however, insisted that he needed to rest for at least another week, and then take things easy for another week beyond that.

"Bilbo, I cannot leave my students for so long without a teacher! Do you think that you can handle them by yourself for two weeks?"

He nodded. "All save Cousin Tolo. He is after all the same age I am." Tolo was Tongo's older brother.

"There's no reason he cannot work independently now, as you have been doing."

"But will he?" Tolo was not by nature a scholar as Bilbo was.

"I shall write down a few things I would like him to read about, and let him know that when I am well again, I shall be testing him." Bungo thought for a few minutes, and then smiled. "He's actually learned as much as will be useful to him already. Tell him that if he succeeds in passing the examination I set him, I will consider that he has learned all that he needs to."

Bilbo laughed. "That will motivate him! I've heard him grumble that his lessons are a waste of time--but Uncle Togo won't allow him to stop coming until you have said he's finished."

"There is much more I would wish to teach him, but he lacks interest, and I think if I try to keep him much longer he will grow to resent me."

Bilbo took his father's message down the Hill to Cousin Tolo, along with a small stack of the books he was to read, and as Bilbo had thought Tolo was thrilled with the idea of finishing his schooling. "I shall study hard," he said, "and then I'll be done with it!" He looked worried for a moment. "How long will I have?"

"Mistress Sage says Papa is not to exert himself for at least two weeks. So you have that long, at least."

Uncle Togo, who'd been listening to the conversation said firmly, "I will see that he does study!"

In addition to Cousin Tongo, and Dora, there were Dora's brothers. Drogo was now thirteen and had been coming up to Bag End for his lessons for nearly three years now, while little Dudo was just getting old enough to have lessons from the family tutor rather than from his older sister. Then there were cousins Posco and Prisca, Cousin Polo's children--six pupils for Bilbo altogether.

Tongo came in the morning between elevenses and luncheon on Sterday, Monday and Hensday. Dora came during that same time by herself on Sunday, and with her younger brothers on Trewsday and Mersday. Posco came on those days after luncheon, while Prisca came after luncheon on Monday and Hensday. She only came twice a week, for on Sunday she had music lessons with her uncle on her mother's side. There were, of course, no pupils on Highday, although if one of them had missed a lesson, he or she might come in to make it up on that day.

Bilbo found he enjoyed teaching them very much; it wasn't the first time he'd worked with young Drogo and little Dudo. Dora was an undemanding pupil, carefully and exactly doing her assignments in reading, writing and arithmetic for Bilbo, before going off to learn needlework and such from his mother. Posco was twelve, and could be mischievous--Bilbo had to watch out for his little tricks; he enjoyed reading and writing, but would come up with inventive excuses to get out of doing his sums. Prisca was very talkative, but once she was quieted down she was an otherwise well-behaved student, though it was hard for Bilbo to find lessons that were of interest to her--until he hit on the idea of having her write out songs she knew in order to practice her writing! After that, all he had to do was build her lesson around music to keep her happy.

After tea, he would sit down and speak with his father about the day and how the children had done their work, getting praise and advice in equal measure. Bungo was very proud of him, and did not stint to tell him so, and Belladonna was pleased with how responsible her son had become, though she sometimes missed his mischievous side.

A few days before his father was to see Mistress Sage, to learn if he would be able to resume his routine, Bilbo was surprised when after supper there was a knock on the door. They rarely had callers so late.

It was Tolo. "Bilbo, I have read all of the books your father sent me! But I don't have any idea of how to prepare for his testing. Can you help me?"

"Of course I can!" He thought a moment. "It's too late to start tonight, but if you'll bring the books with you tomorrow, you can join us for tea, and then I will help you to study afterwards."

Tolo breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks ever so much, Bilbo! I'm so nervous about this that I don't know how a single fact will stick in my head."

"Don't worry, we'll get it sorted out!"

And so the next two evenings Tolo had tea with the Bagginses, and then he and Bilbo retreated to Bungo's study, where Bilbo grilled him over the history in the books he had read. On the second night, the two lads took supper in there as well, working right through the meal.

"By goodness," said Bilbo, "I think you've got it now. You are quite solid on the history of the North-tooks, and I am sure you know enough about the last days of the King to get by quite well!"

"I don't know how I'll ever thank you, Bilbo!"

The next day, Mistress Sage visited Bag End and checked Bungo thoroughly. "You are doing very well, Squire, though you must be gentle with yourself. You will never be as hardy as you were before the Fell Winter, but I think you are doing better now."

The following day was a Monday. Prisca was excused from her lessons for the day, and Tolo came up to have his tests after elevenses. Bilbo waited nervously outside the door, wondering how his cousin was doing. It was nearly luncheon when Tolo came out, grinning ear to ear. "I passed!" he said. "Your father was really pleased with how well I did!" He grabbed Bilbo in a hug and the two did an impromptu dance about the hall.

After that, Bilbo often took over the lessons for the young ones, although his father still planned most of them. Bilbo began to feel he'd found his place in the world--he'd be family tutor after his father, and then Master of Bag End. He was quite sure he'd do well at the former.

It remained to be seen if he could do the latter task as well.

14 Wedmath, S.R. 1321

Bilbo was rather excited as he filled his pack. He'd been invited to visit Adalgrim and Periwinkle at Whitwell at harvest time. He knew he'd be working hard, but it would be a lot of fun to do something a little more strenuous than marking essays. Bungo had been feeling much better since his illness earlier in the year, and both his parents had encouraged him to make the visit. They knew he especially wanted to go, because Chop had also invited Siggy to come at the same time, and he'd not had a long visit with Siggy for more than a year.

Neither of his parents suspected his other reason for wanting to spend time at Whitwell. He had never forgotten the lovely Pomona and the time they'd spent together at the wedding of her sister to Adalgrim. He'd cast their meeting at such a time as an omen, remembering how his parents had met at the wedding of Adalgrim's parents to Cousin Rosa. Surely it was a sign. He was almost thirty-one, and Pomona was only a little over a year younger. They were at a decent age to begin a courtship, and he had high hopes.

They had not corresponded. But on previous visits to Whitwell, the two of them had talked, and she seemed to like him well enough. Perhaps since he'd be there longer, they could have more time for talking, and perhaps he could gain her father's permission to write to her, and maybe...maybe he could court her. He refused to think someone else might be courting her--surely it would have been mentioned in one of Chop's letters if there had been.

Yes, his hopes were quite high. He carried his pack out to the front hall, and went to have tea with his parents. He was planning to walk during the cool of the night, and perhaps sleep out under the stars; it wouldn't do to arrive at Whitwell in the middle of the night. Little Pearl had been joined last fall by baby sister Primrose, and he knew that the young parents would not be happy if he woke the little ones up so late. He'd sleep outdoors--a rare treat, and then arrive at their door in time for first breakfast if he was lucky.

After tea, his father embraced him. "Make yourself useful to your cousin and do not let him get you into trouble," he chuckled. That was no longer a worry. Periwinkle did not let her husband get himself or anyone else into trouble now.

His mother gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Enjoy your adventure, dear!" She handed him the food she'd packed for his supper into a neat bundle, and he attached it to his pack before shouldering it.

"Good-bye, Mama and Papa! I will write to you; and I should be home in about three weeks if the harvest goes well!"

He walked quietly down the lane, and then along the Bywater Road until he got to the Three-Farthing Stone, where he set forth across country. It was just under seven leagues from there to Whitwell. It would be half again as far if he took the Stock Road, and he'd have to go through Tuckborough. He much preferred this solitary walk through the fields and copses. At sunset he stopped beneath a leafy willow overhanging a lazy brook, and overlooking a pasture. He took out the bundle of food his mother had packed: a thick slab of ham between two pieces of thick and crusty brown bread, a couple of mushroom pasties, some cheese, a large pickle wrapped in waxed paper, a brambleberry tart, and a pear. He ate all of it except one of the mushroom pasties and the pear—he thought to save those for later in the night, for he knew in a few hours he'd be hungry again.  Just for fun, he leaned over the brook and tried to tickle up a trout as they'd tried to teach him to do in Buckland, but he had no better luck now than he'd had with his cousins along the Brandywine. Ahead of him the Sun was going to her rest, and painting the Western sky in vivid rosy reds. Behind him, the trees were lacy black against the indigo heavens, and a star or two had begun to twinkle above, but it was still a while before the Moon showed his face.

Once the Moon was up, and the Sun was down, the world took on a different cast. Shadows were different in moonlight than in sunshine, and the stars shone the brighter now that the Sun had completely set. A myriad of sparkles shone above as the stars had come out in all their glory, and Bilbo picked out a few of the constellations: the Plow, the Ladle, and there was the one star called the Mariner. His father had told him there was an Elven legend about that particular star, but that he had never come across it; Bilbo had looked for it in the Old Took's library once, but he had never found any trace of it. Bilbo sometimes wondered if there were such things as Elves. His mother assured him there were and that she had seen them. She always gave him a rather speculative look when she told him that--perhaps she thought he might see them too, one day. Or perhaps she was having him on. After all, his mother was a Took, and they did have a very odd sense of humour.

At the look of the surrounding countryside, Bilbo realised he had come a little over half the distance. He was getting tired, but he wanted to be closer to his destination before he went to sleep; after all, he'd brought no breakfast provisions. His mother had asked if she should pack him some, but he was certain he'd be close enough to get first breakfast when he arrived, and told her not to bother. If he camped now, he'd have to walk half the morning away on an empty stomach!

Thinking of food made him feel peckish, and so he considered having his last mushroom pastie and his pear, but he really ought to save that for just before he went to sleep. Then he noticed that to his right he was passing an orchard; perhaps an apple orchard? It was hard to tell in the dark without going closer.

Bilbo had never been a dedicated scrumper, though he had from time to time accompanied his cousins on raids in gardens or of the larders in the Great Smials. But after the Fell Winter, he never really felt right scrumping from anyone he didn't know could spare the food--after all, he could be taking the food out of their mouths. But even as his thoughts ran along those lines, his feet had been leading him nearer to the orchard; the trees were laden, and when he got close enough, he could tell most of them were not yet ripe. Still, there were always a few that might ripen early. There wouldn't be any windfalls yet. He'd have to climb.

His stomach rumbled. He sighed. It was either eat his bedtime snack now, and be hungry later, or climb up and scrump a few pippins. He ducked between the rails of the fence, took a deep breath, and made for the nearest tree. Chop and Siggy had taught him to climb, but it was not his favorite pastime. Still, he screwed himself up and then shimmied up to the nearest branch. There were no ripe apples there, but he spotted a couple on the next branch up.

He managed to find two that were already ripe, and two that were pretty close to ripe. He stuffed them in his pockets and made his way back to the ground. Back through the fence and he went on his way, munching the apples. They were quite tart, and the two that were still partly green were a little hard, but they would at least satisfy his demanding belly.

He ate as he walked and then tossed the cores away for the birds, and then he was reminded of an old Shire song. He began to sing softly:

Up in the green orchard there is a green tree,
The finest of pippins that ever you see;
The apples are ripe and ready to fall,
And Rolly and Robin shall gather 'em all.*

Sing hey! Sing ho!
To harvest we go!
Sing high! Sing low!
To harvest we go!

Out in the field the barley is gold,
The bread will be brown, the beer will be cold.
Now is the time, let the reaping begin,
And Rolly and Robin shall gather it in.

Sing hey! Sing ho!
To harvest we go!
Sing high! Sing low!
To harvest we go!

Down in the dingle the mushrooms are brown.
Penny Buns and White-caps all cover the ground.
Creep into the dell before the Sun’s up--
And Rolly and Robin shall eat them all up!

Sing hey! Sing ho!
To harvest we go!
Sing high! Sing low!
To harvest we go!

It was pleasant to be singing under the stars, and revived by the apples, he sang several other songs and walking a little more briskly. He was getting a little winded though, and passing a farmyard, he saw a well. He went over to it; like many hobbits who lived in the country, the farmer had left a filled bucket and a ladle on the rim of the well for thirsty passers-by. He took a deep drink, and splashed some of the water on his face, and placed a farthing next to the bucket in thanks.

He went on about another half-a-league, and then realised that he'd go no further tonight. He found a nice grassy spot beneath the canopy of an old chestnut tree, and shrugged off his pack and unrolled his bedroll. He finished off the mushroom pastie and the pear, snuggled up in his blanket and then drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the fair Pomona.

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

For an instant when he woke, he had quite lost his bearings. Then he realised he was sleeping outdoors and he was on his way to Whitwell.

And he had no breakfast. He gathered up his things and put his backpack on, and looked around. Now that it was day, he noticed that he was still a good league-and-a-half from Whitwell. It would be a long trek on an empty stomach. He sighed. He'd made this journey before and he always underestimated the time it would take him. Every time he swore he'd leave sooner, and every time he did not.

Trudging along he got his bearings and realised he'd yet to pass Tookbank. Perhaps he could veer towards the Road and purchase his breakfast at The Clever Fox.  He was feeling quite sorry for himself, when he heard a loud whistle, and the sound of pony hooves. He turned in amazement to see a most unexpected sight: his cousin Siggy on his pony Barley.

Siggy broke into a trot and soon caught him up. Bilbo was staring at him. "Where in the world did you come from?" he asked.

"From the Great Smials, of course," his cousin replied as he swung down from the saddle. You did know I was coming to Whitwell too, didn't you?"

Bilbo nodded. "But I thought you were probably already there."

"Well, aren't you lucky I wasn't. Come, ride up behind me—Barley can carry two. We'll go into the village and have some breakfast, and we can be at Chop's house in time for a second one!"

This was more than agreeable to Bilbo, and pretty soon they were trotting along towards Tookbank—from the pony's back, Bilbo could see the smoke rising from some of the holes, and the thatched roofs of the shops.

The Clever Fox was an unusual inn, for it was a smial rather than a building. It had once been the fine hole of a wealthy family, a very old family who had still proudly carried the actual name of Fallohide. But the family had died off generations back, leaving only two daughters who married into other families, and sold off the hole. The new owners had soon converted it into a fine inn.

The morning was pleasant, so Bilbo and Siggy brought their breakfast outside to one of the outdoor tables, and make quick work of their sausages, eggs, toast, fried potatoes and broiled tomatoes. They washed it down with a pot of tea, and sat there satisfied for a while, before they headed on their way.

The two cousins chatted awhile, as they trotted along on Barley's back, exchanging news and gossip. "It'll be good to see Porro again," said Siggy. Periwinkle's younger brother and Siggy had become quite good friends after the wedding.

"Any other news?" Bilbo asked. He was afraid to say Pomona's name—Siggy might tease him, or even worse, have news of her courting someone else.

"Not really," Siggy said. Bilbo let out a sigh of relief. "Oh—just one thing: last month Pomona went off to Michel Delving. She's apprenticed to a healer there! Can you imagine that?"

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

* The first verse of the song is a traditional children’s nursery song, slightly altered. The chorus and remaining verses are mine. This song first appeared in my story "Trotter".

She was glad to see them, and they regaled her with family news as they ate, and they played with little Pearl and held tiny Primrose, and for a while Bilbo was able to forget Siggy's astonishing and discouraging news as he held the baby and tried to coax dribbles of porridge into her mouth. She kept trying to wave away the spoon to eat the porridge with her fingers, and Bilbo got quite a lot of it on his shirtfront. Siggy laughed at him, and Periwinkle apologized, her cheeks red at the baby's behaviour; but Bilbo didn't mind--he liked babies.

The two lads offered to help Periwinkle with the washing up, but she shook her head. "You lads travelled all night long to be here," she said. "Rest while you can, for after luncheon you'll be working hard enough!"

The guestroom was in the newer part of the house, and was large and airy. Whitwell had begun as a smial, but the hill into which it was burrowed would not support further delvings, so when it had been enlarged, the hobbits had simply built onto it, so that it was now half house and half smial. The gauzy curtains at the window danced in the breeze, and the quilted coverlet in shades of green on the large bed looked comfortable. Siggy flung himself down on one side, and was asleep in minutes. On the other side, though, Bilbo lay awake for a long while, thinking of his dashed hopes.

He'd been prepared for the news that perhaps someone else was courting Pomona, but the news that she'd gone for a healer's apprenticeship was something he had never imagined. Healers seldom wed, and when they did it was quite a scandal. Mistress Rose Greenhand had wed Farmer Cotman of Bywater and it was still spoken of by the gossips in low voices as "not proper, not proper at all!"   A number of her patients in Hobbiton had left her because of it; Bilbo's mother had scoffed at the attitude, and said "Why shouldn't she wed if she's in love? Why, my youngest brother's wife is a healer!" but her voice was a minority, and was discounted because after all, Mrs. Baggins might be the mistress of the Hill, but she was born a Took, and everyone knew that they did not understand the importance of respectability over in the Tooklands. It wasn't a very good example; the youngest of the Old Took's sons, had after all, gone on an Adventure!. Belladonna's neighbours and in-laws liked her well enough (except for Uncle Longo and Aunt Camellia who had never liked her) but they did not regard her as particularly sensible and proper.

And Mistress Rose had been nearly forty! He knew that was not regarded as old for a hobbit, but to young Bilbo it seemed a powerfully long time.  And Michel Delving! If Pomona had only been apprenticed to someone in Tuckborough or someplace like that, he'd probably still have a chance to see her once in a while and find out if he could win her regard enough to overcome scandal and duty. If she came to feel about him as he did about her, he might stand a chance some day. But she was in Michel Delving, a place his family rarely ever visited. It could be as long as seven years or more before he saw her again!

These thoughts swirled around in his head over and over, but after a while, exhaustion overcame him and he fell asleep.

Periwinkle awakened the lads for luncheon. It was a huge affair, served on long trestle tables in the farmyard, enough food for all the hired hands as well as Periwinkle's brothers and cousins. Siggy and Bilbo sat next to Porro, and they dug into the hearty fare set before them: freshly baked bread, pan-fried chicken, stewed greens, and roasted vegetables.

Porro filled them in on the afternoon's task. "We'll be finishing up the barley at our place today, and bringing it into the threshing barn there." Siggy had never done any harvesting of grain, though he'd helped out with the harvesting of potatoes and turnips and other root vegetables before. Bilbo had helped Farmer Button harvest his rye a couple of times, so he had some idea of how to swing a scythe. Porro and Bilbo explained it to Siggy, and Porro promised to show Siggy what to do.

"Be sure to wear your hats," Adalgrim reminded them before they headed out to the fields. "The Sun can be wicked hot out in the fields!"

It was a hot and tiring afternoon, and the harvesters were tired, sore and dirty at the end of the day. They all washed up in buckets by the well before Periwinkle and her mother and sisters-in-law laid the table for supper.

After supper, Bilbo fell into bed too exhausted to even dream, much less to stay awake nursing his broken heart. He slept soundly and woke early to the smell of first breakfast.

The next day they began the harvesting of the Took fields: wheat, rye and hay (for the Tooks kept a small herd of shaggy little cows for milk and for meat, and hay would be needed for them for the winter. There were still vegetables to harvest as well. There were potatoes to dig, and beans to pick and the last of the cucumbers to be pickled and the onions to hang. 

A day was set aside for going into the small wood that bordered the edge of both farms to gather nuts and mushrooms and late berries and other things that could be foraged. Everyone enjoyed such a day, helped by all over the age of faunthood. They picnicked in a clearing in the woods for both luncheon and supper, and rode home in the farmwaggons, singing all the way.

Two weeks he spent at Whitwell, and then went with Siggy to the Great Smials for a few days. Then Siggy would accompany him back to Bag End and stay until his birthday. He'd be thirty-one this year. In two more years he'd come of age.

That was something he had always looked forward to before, coming of age, being an adult, growing into his duties. But now the thought of it made his heart feel heavy. It would be years and years before he could start a family, and that's only if Pomona would have him once she became a healer. And his future was bound up in his parents. The older he got, the more he began to realise that yes, he'd be the Master of Bag End and the Head of the Bagginses one day--and that day would only come when he was alone, when his parents were gone. It was hard to think of, and impossible to speak of, yet when he saw the pallor of his mother's face and heard his father's slow and laboured breathing, he could not keep it out of his mind.

Summer S.R. 1323

In Afteryule, Bungo had a serious turn, and took to his bed, which he now seldom left. When he did, it was only to go so far as the parlour, where he slept in his armchair by the hearth. Bilbo had taken over all of his father's students now, and his mother filled the duties of the Baggins, acting as Family Head and Mistress of the Hill. He would come of age this fall, and he both dreaded it and looked forward to it.

However, he much enjoyed his teaching duties; he had several students now. Dora and Drogo were still coming to him for their lessons, though Dudo was too young for such, and was also often sick. His mother still was tutoring him. There were a few Goodbody cousins and the local blacksmith had engaged him to teach his newest apprentice, Mat Lightfoot.

"He needs his letters to run a business when he becomes his own Master, Mr. Bilbo; but I've not got the patience nor the head for teaching. I just know my letters and my numbers and how to do sums; but the teacher's got to know more than the student!"

In spite of coming from a poorer working class family, young Mat was an eager pupil. He was quite grateful for the chance to learn how to read and, as he put it, "to figger". Bilbo found him very bright and so good with numbers that it took little time to bring him to more advanced work.

One day when Master Noakes came to pay him for the lad's lessons, Bilbo drew him aside.

"How is he doing as an apprentice blacksmith?" he asked.

"He's good at learning what's needed. I'm hoping though that he grows somewhat more; he's a mite small for the work and needs to build up his muscles. Still, he's only seventeen--he may hit a growth spurt ere long. If not, I'm not sure he'll have the strength for some o' the work."

"Well, I should like you to know that his lessons with me will not be wasted. Mat's very apt with the numbers, and if he cannot make it as a blacksmith, you would do worse than to keep him on as a clerk. He's only been at it a few months, and he already shows an aptitude for accounting. He's honest and he's fond of you. It would free you up for your own work. And, as you say, he may yet grow. If so, he will be very successful in business as his own Master."

Drogo remained (though Bilbo never voiced it, and was scrupulously fair with his other pupils) Bilbo's favourite. Drogo adored his older cousin, and had a passion for reading and learning that they shared. Dora however, spent about half her time at Bag End with Belladonna, learning various forms of needlework and household management. Her own mother was simply not up to it, and spent most of her energy on young Dudo.

It was about the middle of Forelithe when Bilbo brought several letters in. "Mama, the post has come! There's a letter for you from Aunt Mirabella!"

"10 Forelithe, S.R. 1323 Brandy Hall

"Dearest Bella,

I'm writing to see if I can impose on you and on Bilbo. Young Rory has entered his tweens, and is turning into a real handful. He is constantly slipping away from his lessons with his Uncle Orgulas, and has become the ringleader of a group of tweens and older teens who follow his lead in planning and executing all sorts of japes, and twice has been caught scrumping in the Marish.

He's repentant enough when caught, and never lies about what he's been up to, but his father and I are at our wit's end.

Rory has always been very fond of Bilbo, and I know your son has a real talent for teaching. Do you suppose he could come and stay with you for a while and have some lessons from one of his favourite cousins? Bilbo is a sensible hobbit, and I think he could possibly tame his cousin. If it is all right with you, we can drop him off right after the Lithe celebrations at the Great Smials and he can stay until Bilbo's Birthday Party.

Please be honest with me if it is not possible. I know that Bungo is not well, and it may be too much for him to have a boisterous Brandybuck under his roof. If this is the case, don't hesitate to tell me. I would not want to make him worse. But I confess I am very much hoping that the answer will be yes.

In other news, wee Primula has entered faunthood this spring, and I have to say that Rory was very good about supervising the little byrding as she gathered some flowers for me and an interesting looking stick for her Da.

Little Dinny is doing quite well with his lessons; he's become quite the little scholar and often has his nose in a book well beyond his years. Gorbadoc's sister Laurel is teaching both Asphodel and myself how to knit! (Yes, after all these years of avoiding it, I decided to set my daughter a good example and finally learn how!) I know that you are an accomplished knitter, and would laugh to see my poor efforts, but Laurel assures me that I am steadily improving, and Asphodel is becoming quite good at it. When Primula gets old enough to learn, I hope to be good enough at it to teach her myself.

All the older children are doing well (except for Rory, who seems determined to drive both his parents mad).

Do let me know your answer soon.

All my love,

Your fond sister, Mira"

That evening Belladonna and Bilbo spoke to Bungo, who urged them not to keep Rory away just for his sake. So Bell went to write to her sister and tell her yes, while Bilbo discussed Rory with his father. Bungo, after all had been a Family Tutor for many years and had much wisdom to impart.

Rory arrived with his parents and younger siblings in the Brandybuck family carriage three days after Midsummer, just in time for luncheon.

While Uncle Gorbadoc had a quiet word with Bungo, who was seated in the parlour, and Belladonna was embracing Aunt Mira and gushing over how much the younger children had grown, Bilbo drew Rory aside and they escaped to Bilbo's room to talk.

"Are you going to be angry with me as well, Bilbo?" asked Rory as he flopped down in the middle of Bilbo's bed. "Because if you are, I might just as well go home."

Bilbo sat down in the chair next to the bed, and shook his head. "No, I'm not angry. But you are getting a little too old to be pulling the sorts of tricks we did when we were younger. It's true I will need to talk to you about your lessons, but that can wait until tomorrow."

"Oh." Rory looked surprised. "What's so important then?"

"I need your help."

Rory's expression was almost comical. Clearly that was the last thing he had expected. "What do you need my help with?"

Bilbo sighed. "You know my father's health is not getting any better. Mama's had to take over all of Papa's duties as Head of the Family, and I've taken over all his pupils. Yet I will be coming-of-age this year. Everyone will be expecting a really great party, but I have very little time to put into it, and Mama tires easily as well these days--it's all she can do to take care of what she must. I'd like to ask you to take charge of planning my party.

His younger cousin's grey eyes grew large. "Me?" he squeaked, his voicecracking.

"Yes, you! Brandybucks are famous for their parties, so I am sure you know something of the task; and you wouldn't have to do it all by yourself. My cousin Dora knows a lot about things like invitations and what's proper and so forth, and she can help you with it; she's already agreed. I would have asked her if you had not been available, but her mother is not in good health either, and then there's little Dudo. Still, she should have enough time to help you out."

"But...I'm scarcely a tween! I only just turned twenty-one!"

Bilbo shrugged. "I was only your age when I was put in charge of overseeing an entire smial being restored. I know you can do it!"

Rory was beginning to look intrigued. "But don't you want some say in things?"

"Use your judgment, Rory. If you think it's important to ask me about, then come to me. But I've simply no time to see to all the details. I'll be seeing to my gifts, and that is going to be a big task all by itself. I think this is something you can do with Dora's help."

"Well, I did do my own birthday party this year by myself..."

"See! I know you can do it!"

Just then there was a rap on the door, and at Bilbo's call of "Come in," young Dinny stuck his head in. "Lunch is ready!"

The dining room table was crowded with the Bagginses as well as the Brandybuck brood, and there was much laughter and conversation. Even Bungo was able to stay at the table and participate, though Mirabella noted with concern that her brother-in-law only seemed to pick at his food. After the meal was finished, Bella helped Bungo back to bed.

Bilbo took the chance to pull his uncle aside. "Uncle Gorbadoc, do you think that you will be able to locate the items I wrote to you about?"

His uncle nodded. "Orgulas will be making another trip to Bree to deliver some of our apple brandy to one of our customers there. He knows of just the craftsman there who can provide your request."

Bilbo gave a sign of relief, and passed over a purse of coin. It gave a satisfying clink. "I hope that will be enough."

“I'm sure that it will be, lad. But I'll instruct my brother to make up the difference if it isn't, and you can pay him back later.”

“Thank you so much, Uncle,” said Bilbo. “Those are very important gifts!”

The Bagginses saw the Brandybucks off shortly after luncheon. Rory suffered his father's admonitions to behave, and his mother's embraces and his younger siblings' shouts of “Good-bye!” before he watched them drive off, hoping to make the inn at Frogmorton before supper. Belladonna had packed them a basket for tea so that they need not stop before then.

That night after Rory had gone to bed in the guest room, Bilbo looked over the letter from Orgulas Brandybuck and the box containing much of Rory's recent work. Clearly part of the problem, (as Orgulas freely confessed) was that Rory was not challenged. Being taught alongside his younger brothers and sisters meant that Rory was being held back from more advanced lessons.

Bilbo sorted through the essays and the other work in the box. He could tell that his younger cousin had quite the head for figures, but that the sums he'd done most recently, while correct, were sloppy and unfinished. His essays on history were lackluster and showed a complete boredom with the subject: considering that they seemed to concentrate exclusively on the settling of Buckland, its founding, and the Oldbuck family that came as no surprise. There was scarcely an acknowledgment that the rest of the Shire existed. Bilbo was fairly certain that could be laid at his tutor's door.

He thought over what he and his father had discussed when he'd told Bungo of Aunt Mirabella's request as he made his evening ablutions, and by the time he'd gone to bed he had a plan of action.

~~~~~~~

It was with not a little trepidation that Rory followed Bilbo into the study where lessons were given. Bilbo was one of his favorite cousins; he loved the way Bilbo was just always there, steady as a rock and ready to take care of him if disaster fell when they'd been drawn into one of Chop's or Siggy's wild schemes. And when he himself seemed to bring down disaster (usually entirely by accident) Bilbo never blamed him for what he'd never iintended, but just helped him pick up the pieces, and usually shared the punishment if there was any.

But he'd no idea what this almost-grown (well, really grown, because it was only a few months till he came-of-age) person would be like now that he was officially Rory's tutor. Somehow the "official" part was more than a little nerve-wracking; people tended to change when they got put in charge of other people.

Bilbo smiled at him, and gestured to one of the armchairs by the hearth. He took the other one, and leaned forward. "Well, we do need to talk about your lessons. I've read your uncle's letter and looked at your work. I know that you are capable of doing better."

Rory shrugged. "It's just not very interesting."

"I think I got that impression," said Bilbo, though not at all sternly. Rory was surprised not to hear any censure in his cousin's voice. "You've a great head for mathematics. Your essays are legible and correct, but not very interesting, because it's clear you are bored with the subjects. And nothing against your Uncle Orgulas, but I think that his plate is too full to give you the sorts of challenges you need."

While this was exactly what Rory thought himself, he bristled on his uncle's behalf. "He's got Sardy and Dody, not to mention my sisters and a bunch of the cousins. And he has to help my Da as well!

"Exactly."

Rory sat back and blinked. This was not quite how he had expected this talk to go.

"I've decided that for the subjects of history, reading and writing, it will be just the two of us. You are woefully untaught in any history beyond that of Buckland. You need to learn of the founding of the Shire, and of your Tookish heritage. As for reading, it is no wonder you have become bored with books when the ones you are given to read consist mostly of books about husbandry and journals of various Brandybucks. The library in Brandy Hall is extensive, but not terribly varied. You will find more interesting books to choose from here, I dare say."

Rory nodded. He still felt cautious, but he was beginning to feel better about Bilbo as a teacher. Perhaps things would be all right after all.

Bilbo continued. "You are doing quite well with your numbers, though your work could be neater. I have another student who is also gifted in that way. I'd like to put the two of you together, as you are on the same level; he is a year younger than you, and behind in his letters, but in figuring he has learned very quickly. Mat Lightfoot is a working class lad, an apprentice blacksmith, and I think working alongside you will give him some confidence. I believe you will like one another very much."

Bilbo grinned. "As to genealogy and etiquette, I have another tutor in mind for you. Since you'll be working with Dora on planning my party, I figure to bake two loaves in the same oven. You can brush up on your Took longfather tree and such as you work with her planning the guest lists and writing out the invitations. Dora may be young and a Baggins, but she has an extensive knowledge of the Family Trees of the Great Families, and some knowledge even of the Lesser. I don't think formal lessons will be needed, but I do expect you to know your Tooks at least as far back as Thain Isengrim II by the time I come of age!" Bilbo chuckled, and Rory smiled sheepishly. His Mum would be pleased if he came home knowing more about her side of the family.

"Now, to start you off," Bilbo reached to his side and picked up two books from the small table next to his chair. "This was one of my favorite books when I was your age, a birthday gift from my Uncle Isengar." The spine said Stories from the Southlands, and when Rory opened it, it said "by Isengar Took. "It's a collection of some of the tales he heard when he went adventuring in the Outlands in his youth. He freely admits that many of them are probably fancies and fabrications, but they are most entertaining tales. After you read it, write no less than half a page about whichever tale you wish, explaining what it is you like about it, and how it could relate to hobbits."

He handed Rory the other one. West of the Brandywine: Marcho and Blanco of the Fallohides and the Settling of the Shire by Scudamor Bolger. "Read the first chapter and write no less than one page and no more than three about the events that led the King to grant the Shire to the hobbits."

Rory looked at both books. They sounded more interesting than what he usually read for lessons. But he still had one little niggling fear in his heart, and he screwed up his courage to ask: "Bilbo?" He hesitated briefly, but was encouraged by the interest in his cousin's eyes. "Bilbo, will we still be friends, even though you will be my tutor?"

"Oh Rory! Of course we will! And I am quite sure that we will have other things to do and to talk of than just lessons!" And his expression was so friendly and open that he banished all of Rory's fear and doubts.

When Bilbo awakened that morning, he knew instantly what day it was. Today he was thirty- three: an adult hobbit in his own right, now. He was also to be the host of the largest party Bag End had seen since before the Fell Winter.

He sat up, and his eyes fell upon the list on his night table. He smiled. He'd been quite right to put young Rory in charge of the festivities. The lad had done a marvelous job planning everything, and with Dora's help, the guest list and the invitations had gone out in an efficient and timely manner. Rory had left him the list the night before, of things Bilbo would have to see to today. The lad had gone down to The Ivy Bush to stay overnight with his parents and younger brothers and sisters, for there were other guests at Bag End: Uncle Isengrim, Uncle Isumbras and Aunt Rosa (though Adalgrim and his family were also down at the inn), Siggy, Uncle Isengar and Aunt Citrine were all guests in the hole, and Rory had wanted to spend time with his family; he'd gladly given his guest room over to Uncle Isengrim. But it had been deemed best for Bungo's peace that the families with young children stayed at the inn.

He rose and made his morning ablutions, and dressed in the fine suit that had been his parents' gift to him the day before: it was of a rich dark green wool, and the waistcoat of a deep wine-colour embroidered with autumn leaves on the lapels. He glanced at himself in the mirror standing in the corner of his room, and then ran his brushes through his curls on head and feet. There was a stack of wrapped gifts atop the blanket chest next to it, and he took two of the smaller ones from the top and slipped them into his pocket, along with Rory's list. Then he made his way into the kitchen.

Farmer Button's daughter-in-law had been engaged to come in and help with the guests and the party, and she had already begun preparations to put breakfast on the sideboard in the dining room; the food would be kept warm and fresh there throughout the morning, so that the guests could have first breakfast when they arose and then help themselves to second breakfast and elevenses whenever they chose. Bilbo greeted Mrs. Button, and then took a large tray and put three plates upon it with napkins and cutlery, and began to fill the plates up with toast and eggs and rashers of bacon and a few mushrooms. A pot of tea and three cups were added.

"For your parents, Master Bilbo?"

"Yes, Mrs. Button."

She nodded and moved the hot skillet in which she had planned to make griddlecakes to one side. "Let me help you, sir."

She took a smaller tray and added the cream pitcher, the honeypot and a jar of cherry preserves, and went behind him, pushing the doors open from the side, so that he could go through first.

The trays were placed on the table next to the bed, and Mrs. Button quietly excused herself.

"Good morning, Mama, Papa," Bilbo said, bending over to accept a kiss on his cheek by his mother, and briefly dropping a kiss himself on her forehead. Bungo scooted up against his pillows to sit more comfortably. Belladonna arose and put on her dressing gown and moved to the chair at the side of the bed, and Bilbo pulled a second chair over after putting the largest tray across his father's lap.

"Happy Birthday, son," said Bungo. "You look quite smart this morning."

"Thank you, Papa! How are you feeling this morning?"

"I'm feeling much better, son. I'm sure that I could get up today and be of help to you..." but his words were forestalled as Belladonna raised her hand.

"No, my love. You wish to be able to be at the Birthday Feast this evening. You will stay abed and rest today."

Bungo heaved a deep sigh, but nodded. Bilbo decided it was an appropriate time to give his gifts. He drew them forth from his pocket and handed them over: two oval shaped leather cases about the size of his hand. The one he handed to his father was black, and embossed with the Baggins monogram; the one to his mother was a deep red, and embossed with a design of leaves and flowers. His parents looked at one another in puzzlement, and then unlatched and opened the tops.

"Spectacles!" Bungo exclaimed.

"Spectacles indeed," said Belladonna. "Whatever made you think of them?" She drew hers out, and looked at the delicate gold-gilded frames. Bungo was also examining his.

Bilbo shrugged. "Uncle Isengrim seemed pleased with his; they make it so much easier for him to read all those documents he has to go through as Thain. I know you miss reading, Papa." For the last couple of years it had become difficult for Bungo to read any but the very largest of letters; his wife and son often read aloud to him, but Bilbo knew how much his father missed quietly reading by himself. "and Mama, I noticed a few months ago that you were struggling with your sewing. So I asked Uncle Gorbadoc to see if he could get these for me from that same craftsman in Bree who made Uncle Isengrim's." *

It was Bungo who first tried his on. He blinked owlishly through them. "They will take some getting used to," he said, "but I think they will help."

"How is everything going, dear?" asked his mother, as they got to the business of eating breakfast.

"Quite well! I knew that Rory would do a splendid job of the planning, and he has my day all set out for me! I've already crossed out the first few items on his list..." He drew it from his pocket and showed his parents.

"1. Rise, wash and dress.
2. First breakfast with your parents; give them their gifts.
3. Your students will be giving you gifts in the study.
4. Second breakfast in dining room with the houseguests.
5. Approve the list of music.
6. Make sure all the family gifts are tagged.
7. Elevenses with Dora and myself in the kitchen
8. Inspect the party pavillions
9. Bring out the gate gifts. Make sure not to get them mixed up.
10. Luncheon in the dining room.
11. Guests will begin to arrive; be at gate for handing out of gifts.
12. The Party begins. See schedule for activities available to guests." There were a few lines added beneath Rory's careful and precise round hand in Dora's heavily flourished handwriting: "All those invited to the family feast at supper have accepted, with the exception of your Uncle Longo, Aunt Camellia and Cousin Otho. So there will only be 30 guests. However you and your parents will still make the number of those present 33."

Belladonna laughed out loud, and Bungo shook his head with a smile. "I would say that your cousins were quite thorough in their planning," he said.

Bilbo was grinning himself. "They did a wonderful job, actually. Rory was wary of working with a lass of his own age, since his experience of them was based on Brandy Hall and that lot of giggling tweens. And Dora thought Rory would never be serious. But they got on quite well once they began working, and the only disagreement between them I had to settle was in the invitations to the supper: Dora wanted to invite nearly every relation I have, and Rory wanted to keep it down to about a dozen. I compromised at thirty-three, going by the old custom for young children of inviting the number equal to the age of the byrding"

"Well," said his mother, "you'd best be along to your study and see what the young ones have prepared for you. Dora would never forgive you if you allowed that to drag past noon!"**

Bilbo laughed, and told them he'd see them later, and made his way to his study. The door was open just a crack, and as he approached he heard a voice hiss: "Here he comes!" and the door closed with a snick.

He stood by the door and listened to the sounds of shuffling around, and then opened the door.

His pupils all stood lined up in front of the hearth. There were Rory and Dora, her younger brothers Drogo and Dudo, Mat Lightfoot, Tongo Goodbody and Posco and Prisca Baggins.

As Bilbo's youngest and newest pupil, little Dudo went first, presenting Bilbo with a jar of his mother's famous cherry preserves. Next was young Tongo, who handed him a basket of sugar biscuits. "I baked them myself, Cousin Bilbo!"

Posco gave him a rather creditable drawing of a bowl of fruit, and Prisca played a song for him on her fiddle. Drogo gave him a quill he had cut himself, with a stand he had carved for it. Blushing as red as a beetroot, Mat presented to him an iron paperweight in the shape of a mushroom. "I hope as you like it, Mr. Bilbo. Master Noakes only helped a little bit!" Bilbo praised it highly; it was a clever bit of metalwork, and he knew that the smithing still did not come easy to his one student who was not family.

Dora presented him with a scarf she had knitted in shades of green. He laughed when she gave it to him. "I saw you working on this! I'd no idea it was to be my gift!" Her serious young face allowed a small smile of pleasure for him.

"Your mother said you'd never guess," she said smugly.

"She was quite right! This is very nice, and with cooler weather coming soon, most welcome!"

Finally Rory presented his gift with a flourish: a large basket filled with a bounty of mushrooms of several kinds. "I had to get up early to finish filling the basket, Bilbo! But I found most of them yesterday afternoon!"

So that was what Rory had been up to the day before, when he had vanished for a few hours. Bilbo had thought the lad was simply seeing to some loose ends for the Party. He inhaled the fresh woodsy fragrance emanating from the basket.

"Thank you all very much! I am very fortunate to have such wonderful pupils! Now, if you will wait just one moment..." He went to his desk, and took a stack of slim books from it, presenting one to each of them. "That is a little poem about the founding of the Shire, and I hope that all of you will enjoy it."

He permitted each of them to take one of his sugar biscuits and one mushroom apiece from the basket. Then he saw all of them out save Rory and Dora.

"Is there anything I need to know that is not included on my list or on the schedule?" he asked.

Rory shook his head. "Everything is going swimmingly. I need to go and see if the pavilion has been put up already."

"And I promised to help your mother and Mrs. Button in the kitchen," said Dora.

"In that case, I will give these into your charge," he handed the two baskets to her. "Take those to my mother. I'm sure that the biscuits will make a nice addition to the tea table, and I'm sure that the mushrooms will be welcome at the supper!"

As the two tweens left the study, Rory called back over his shoulder: "Don't forget to mark things off your list! We'll see you at elevenses!"

With a chuckle, Bilbo took up his new quill, dipped it in the inkpot, and struck out the third item. Number four was second breakfast, and he was quite ready for it!

The only guests in the dining room were Uncle Isengar and Aunt Citrine and Siggy. He helped himself to a full plate at the sideboard, and sat down to enjoy their congenial company and gossip about the Tooks.

"How's Chop and his family? Have you seen them lately?" asked Bilbo. Adalgrim and Periwinkle and their little lasses would not be arriving until after luncheon.

Siggy nodded. "Chop brought the little ones with him to the Great Smials during Lithe. Periwinkle stayed in Whitwell; her sister Pomona was visiting, and she wanted to spend plenty of time with her."

Bilbo tried to push away the pang he felt at the mention of Pomona's name; he still found himself thinking with regret of his lost opportunity. He hoped nothing showed on his face.

Aunt Citrine spoke up. "She finished her apprenticeship and will be taking up a practice in Long Cleeve in the North-farthing. The healer there is getting on in years and would like to see someone new established in her place before she retires."

The North-farthing! Truly, fate was against him; that was even further away than Michel Delving. Fortunately, the talk passed on to other subjects; Aunt Citrine had some rather tart things to say about Lalia, who was trying her best to make her mark on the Great Smials as the Heir's wife. "You'd think she was the Lady already, the way she goes on. She's got the most peculiar notions, and I fear she's passing some of them on to other more impressionable lasses. We've now got half again as many servants there as we did when Gerontius was Thain, and ordering them about seems to be her favourite pastime!"

Belladonna entered the dining room at that moment. "I will be glad to see Fortinbras, but I must say, I'd not have been offended if he and Lalia had declined their invitation."

Uncle Isengar and Bilbo exchanged glances, and then Bilbo said diplomatically, "She will just be one among many today, Mama, and I don't believe she will have much chance here to put on airs."

Fortunately Uncle Isengar decided to change the subject, and began to speak of some of the customs of the South that he had encountered in his adventurous youth. Since all at the table were Tooks, no one discouraged him.

Bilbo became so absorbed in his uncle's tales (many of which he had heard before) that he was surprised to look and see Rory gesturing at him from the doorway of the dining room. "Hsst!"

"Excuse me," he said. "My taskmaster awaits!" Everyone laughed as he went to see what Rory wanted.

"You have to look over the music!" Since the musicians had only had the chance to come together that morning (for they were all friends and family) there had been no prior opportunity to decide what to play.

Bilbo glanced at the list. It mostly consisted of the usual dance tunes: the Southfarthing Brawl, the Tangle Dance, Exchanges, Happy Hob and a number of other favourites, and a few popular songs such as "Down the Green Hills", "Nob o' the Lea", and "By the Banks of the Brandywine", Bilbo quickly nodded. "That's fine, Rory!
What do I need to do next?"

"Are the gifts for the family supper all tagged?"

"Yes, I saw to that last night."

"Are you sure?"

Bilbo refrained from rolling his eyes. "I am quite sure. Do you want to check them? They are in my room."

Rory appeared on the brink of saying yes, but then drew a deep breath. "No, that's all right. If that job is done, you can come out with me and make sure the pavilion is all done correctly; we'll set up the gifts by the gate, too. Then we can have elevenses in the kitchen."

Bilbo was, for a change, not especially hungry; he had after all, been eating continuously since second breakfast. But a nibble to keep Rory and Dora company as they compared their progress on the party would not go amiss.

The pavilion, under the supervision of the gardener Master Tam Goodchild and with the help of Magpie and Jackdaw Twofoot, was set up, and Dora was seeing to its decoration with colourful ribbons. She agreed to join Bilbo and Rory in the kitchen for elevenses as soon as she had finished. Then Bilbo and Rory went in to fetch the boxes of gifts for the guests who would be coming in the afternoon; Siggy spotted them and gave them a hand. Bilbo had a box filled with various small toys such as spinning tops, marbles and balls for the children. There was another box of small stuffed animals for the faunts. and for the adults, there were two baskets of pocket handkerchiefs: plain for the hobbits, and lace-edged for the hobbitesses.

He sat down at the table in the kitchen with Dora and Rory, and put his list down, using a stub of pencil to cross out what had been done.

"You did those things out of order," said Dora, as she filled her plate and sat down next to Bilbo and Rory. She looked disapproving.

"But they are done, which is the more important thing," said Bilbo mildly. He took a scone and a cup of tea, and watched his younger cousins eat a while. Rory was all appetite, and Dora would not think it proper to discuss the party business while eating.

When the two pushed their plates to one side, they all spoke briefly of the schedule Rory had made. After luncheon, the Party would begin, and the guests who were not staying at Bag End would begin to arrive.

*Author's Notes: Eyeglasses were developed as early as the 13th century in our world, and Benjamin Franklin invented bifocals in the 18th century. I do not think that it would be beyond the realms of possibility that spectacles would be available to hobbits, though they would probably be both expensive and hard to come by. Clearly these are "generic" reading glasses in my story (such as are still often sold today) and not specifically prescribed. But I think that would have been the most likely way to obtain them.

**According to Tolkien's Letter #214, the "byrding" (person having the birthday) both gave and received gifts. But any gifts to the byrding were to be given on the day before, or at the latest, before noon on the day of the Party. By no means were gifts to the byrding to be given at the Party.  

Bilbo stood by the gate as the rest of the guests arrived, each pleased with the small gifts he presented. Those of his parent's generation or older went into Bag End to present their greetings to his mother and father. The younger children were shooed off to the Party Field where Uncle Bingo had organised a game of "Stop-and-Go". Some of the older lads had begun a game of kick-the-ball while many of the lasses were skipping rope. Some of the tweens and younger adults were playing a game of quoits which had been set up in one corner of the field. And beneath a pavilion near the Party Tree, tables of food and drink had been set up (it would be kept replenished all through the afternoon until after teatime) and was receiving many visitors.

Bilbo looked longingly at all the activity, but he knew his duty, and until all had arrived he must remain at the gate and pass out his presents until all his guests had arrived. At least Rory and Dora stayed by his side, Rory helping Bilbo to pass out the gifts as Dora ticked off the guests on the list.

Rory looked in the baskets. "There are only a few things left," he said.

"That's all right," said Dora, "the only ones left on the list are Herugar and Jessimine Bolger, their two sons Celedor and Odovocar and their little lass Posey. She's just a faunt."

Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief as Rory jabbed him with an elbow: Herry and his lads were walking up the path now, though with no sign of wife or baby.

"Little Posey's got a cold, and her mama thought they'd best stay home, today, Bilbo." said Herry.

Bilbo presented the little lads with their gifts, and pointed them in the direction of the games. As they sped off, he commiserated with their father and passed along the gifts intended for wife and baby. After chatting with Bilbo a while, Herry went off in the direction of the refreshment pavilion.

"We're finished, Bilbo!" exclaimed Rory. "There's nothing left for us or for you until time for the Family Supper!"

"So that means we are free to enjoy the Party now, oh taskmasters?" Bilbo grinned. At Rory's nod, Bilbo made a shooing noise at both his younger cousins. Rory took off like a stone from a sling in the direction of the ball game, Dora made a more dignified exit back into Bag End.

Bilbo sauntered down to the refreshment pavilion, enduring many backslaps, handshakes and congratulations on his majority along the way. Tables and benches had been set up, as well as casks of beer and ale. He managed to get a mug of ale and maneuver his way to where he saw his cousins Siggy and Adalgrim standing. The two were watching the faunts and younger children as they played the various games that Uncle Bingo had arranged, assisted by a few of the tween-aged lasses. Several hobbit mothers were watching from the sidelines, in case their help was needed. The three cousins found a nearby bench where they could sit and enjoy their ales. They caught up on their doings since they had seen one another last (for not everything gets into a letter, nor do those doings which do get written of seem the same as when they are told).

Adalgrim could not keep his eyes from straying often to the part of the field where the tiny fauntlings played, and where Periwinkle stood with his youngest, wee Peridot, who was scarcely a year old and still a babe-in-arms. His conversations were filled with anecdotes about his little daughters. Pearl was six now, and technically out of faunthood--a lively child and according to her doting father, quite the cleverest child of that age he had ever encountered. "Why she can count to twenty already, and the other day she helped her mother to make scones! I'd like to start teaching her letters, but Winkie insists we must wait until she is seven."

Bilbo and Siggy both winced at their cousin's nickname for his wife; she endured it from no one but him, and would even scold him mildly for it. But Siggy had made the mistake once of using it and been treated to a withering glare that still made him shudder.

Just then, as if she had known she was spoken of, Periwinkle turned her gaze in their direction, and signaled to her husband that she needed him. With a rueful sigh, he downed the last of his ale and put his mug on the bench. "She probably needs me to watch Pearl and Primmie while she goes off to feed little Peri. He rose and sauntered off giving Bilbo and Siggy a brief wave.

Bilbo sighed. "It still seems odd to see our Chop all settled down with a family and turned into an Adalgrim, even after all these years."

"Well, our old 'Chop' is still there underneath. But he's besotted with his wife. It doesn't seem a hardship to him to please her by being a little more respectable." Siggy grinned. "I am very glad you invited Malva. Though I wish she was out here..." Malva was inside Bag End, dancing attendance on her mother, who had gone inside to visit Belladonna."

"I'd never dream of not having her here, not when you seem to have finally made up your mind." Siggy and Malva Hornblower's courtship had blown hot and cold over the years, but they finally seemed to have settled things between them.

"I will tell you a secret, cousin," said Siggy. "Now I'm of age, and she will be so in just six weeks. We plan on making our betrothal official then. And we are going to have our wedding at Midsummer's  Day next year. Will you stand with me, Bilbo?"

Bilbo suppressed a whoop of joy. "Of course I will, Sigismond Took!" The two cousins clasped hands in settlement of the agreement.

"Ah, look, Bilbo!" Siggy pointed in the direction of Bag End, where many of the older hobbits were coming out and heading in the direction of the refreshments, which they noticed had been substantially replenished. "It's teatime!" Both rose and headed over, Bilbo to assume his duties as host once more, and Siggy to claim Miss Malva for the evening.

The table was far more laden than it had been earlier; in addition to a tea service at each end, there were cakes of all sorts and sizes, scones, berries and clotted cream, biscuits of both the sweet and savoury sort, and sandwiches cut into fancy shapes. Bilbo spotted one of his favourite types of biscuit, though they were called "Bucklebury cakes", and were a sort of shortbread flavoured with rosewater and nutmeg*. He knew at once his mother had made them herself.

After tea, some of the hobbits his parents had engaged to help with the party moved the leftover food and drink to a smaller table by the musicians' pavilion, in order to prepare the larger pavilion for the family supper.

The musicians had begun playing and when the first notes of "The Tangle Dance"* began, summoning many hobbits young and old and in between, the dancing began. Bilbo himself led the tangle, and by the time the music ended all the hobbits were so tangled they could scarcely move. All broke apart to much hilarity as a more sedate pavane was started up, to enable dancers to catch their breath. Bilbo chose his mother as his partner to lead the dance.

Bilbo joined in the circle dances with enthusiasm and for the dances with couples or sets, he chose his partners from among his aunts and his older married cousins, or from lasses in their teens and early tweens, who would enjoy the dancing but were too young to read anything into his attention. He danced twice with Dora, and once with her young friend Menegilda Goold, who was visiting Dora in Hobbiton from her home in Stock. Bilbo noticed with amusement that Rory also danced with Gilda, and more than once.He danced several times with his mother, and with Aunt Mirabella and Aunt Donnamira and Aunt Citrine. He even danced once with Cousin Lalia. Other than accepting him when he asked, she did not even speak once to him. But at least he had done his duty as a host. Any lasses of his own age who might have hoped to dance with the Baggins heir were sadly disappointed.

He also took time to speak to various guests, especially among his relations who considered themselves too old for the exertion of dancing. He took note that the evening was drawing in--Rory had summoned up the helpers to light the lanterns in the Party Tree, and Dora was seeing to the setting up of the children's table for the supper to come. (This was for the younger children of the adults who had been invited to the Family Supper.) Dora had volunteered herself and Gilda to watch over the children's table. The lasses from the village whom his mother had engaged began to lay the big table.

Guests who were not staying began making their farewells, and Bilbo found himself shaking hands and thanking them for coming. He saw his mother slipping back up to Bag End--to fetch his father. The large cake was brought out, but Bilbo could not tear his eyes away from Bag End's front door until he saw his parents emerge. Bungo was, as usual, using his cane. But his step was sure, if slow. Bilbo stood by the large basket with the special family gifts, and distributed them to his kin as they took their places in the pavilion. When the last of them had been given out, he took his seat.

Bilbo was at the center of the long table, and his parents to either side of him. All the other relatives were ranged about the table. The serving lasses went around the table filling the goblets with wine. Then Bungo stood, goblet in hand and raised it high: "To the byrding, my son Bilbo Baggins, who is thirty-three and comes of age this day! May he have many more birthdays to come!"

All up and down the table was raised the chorus of: "To Bilbo!"

Bilbo blushed to the tips of his ears, but stood gamely to give his speech (thankfully a short one): "Thank you very much for coming to my Party! I'm glad I can celebrate this day with my dear family and friends, and I look forward to taking up the responsibilities and privileges of adulthood. I hope you all are having a very good time!"

He sat down rather abruptly--more so than he'd intended--and heard a few chuckles at his mild discomfiture. It was all in good nature.

The food was plentiful: there were several roasted chickens, two immense hams, a large beef roast with Westfarthing pudding**, mounds of fluffy mashed potatoes, great dishes of roasted root vegetables, beans stewed with onions and hamhock, bowls of salad greens dressed with oil and vinegar, mushrooms stuffed, mushrooms fried, mushrooms stewed, baskets of freshly baked breads, crocks of pickles, bowls of fresh fruit and platters of cheese and savoury biscuits for filling in of corners, and plenty of wine or a choice of tea for those who preferred it.

For afters, there was of course, birthday cake, and also a large dish of candies in the shape of mushrooms.

At first there was a loud and pleasant hubbub of conversation, but as the hobbits slowed down in their eating and began to grow sated, the table grew quieter though still cheerful. When Dora appeared from the children's table with Drogo yawning at her side and Dudo asleep over her shoulder, Cousin Fosco and Cousin Ruby decided it was time to go home. Bilbo stood and gave Dora his sincere thanks and a kiss on the top of her head to thank her for all her help. She did look exhausted, but she gave him a smile of pleasure. "You are welcome, Cousin Bilbo," she said. This was the signal for those hobbits who also had children and who were staying at the inns or lived in the village to collect their offspring and leave. Soon enough only those staying in Bag End itself were left.  Bilbo had thanked a very tired Rory and sent him off with his parents.

He watched his parents make their slow way back up to Bag End from the Party Field, along with their holeguests. He took a moment to speak to Jackdaw Twofoot, who was supervising the hobbits who would be taking down the tables and striking the pavilions, thanking him for his help, and reminding him to make sure all the lanterns, torches and candles were well and truly out.

Then he made his own way back to Bag End, exhausted and with much to think about.

* The Tangle Dance is a dance popular in the Society for Creative Anachronism, and is more properly called the Tangle Bransle (pronounced "brawl"). Dancers begin in a large circle dance, and then after a few measures of the music, the designated leader drops the hand on his left and begins to weave the dancers in and out, ducking under the arms of other dancers. The idea is not to break hold until the end, and to get all the dancers thoroughly tangled up. It's a great icebreaker dance, and one I have appropriated for "my" Shire-universe.

** Known in our day as "Yorkshire pudding", a sort of breadish pudding of flour, eggs and milk cooked in the drippings of roast beef.

Chapter 36: Hopes and Dreams

23 Halimath, S.R. 1323

The day after the party was a Highday. Morning found guests scattering to the four corners of the Shire. Siggy was in high spirits, as Miss Malva's parents were allowing her to ride with the Tooks as far as Tuckbank, where the family dwelt. Adalgrim was glad to be returning to the farm; his father-in-law was an excellent overseer, but Adalgrim had taken to farming as he never thought he would when he was younger. Rory, however, was trying very hard to hold back his tears. He clung to Bilbo.

"I'll miss you, Bilbo! You've been my best teacher ever!"

Bilbo returned his younger cousin's embrace. "Thank you," he said, ruffling the young Brandybuck's curls. "I will miss you as well. Behave yourself, and don't forget all I've taught you!" He watched Rory clamber into the Brandybuck carriage, and saw him waving frantically out the window. Bilbo stood at the gate to Bag End's front garden and waved back until the carriage turned at the bottom of the Hill and was out of sight.

The day stretched long before him. There would be no students on a Highday; his father was worn out from the excitement of the night before and would remain a-bed most of the day. Belladonna was keeping him company, sitting beside her husband in an upholstered chair as she plied her crochet hook on an intricate doily which she had abandoned long ago when it became difficult to see, but she thought that with her new spectacles she would now be able to finish it.

He looked out the door of Bag End, and decided it might be a nice day for a ramble; he went to his parents' room to let them know he'd be gone. Then he put together a satchel of bread, cheese and a couple of apples, and filled his waterskin. From his room he fetched his purse, a pocket handerchief and his hat, and tucked into his pocket a book of poetry that he had received from his Aunt Donnamira. Collecting his cloak and walking stick from beside the door he stepped out into the sunny Halimath day. The wind was brisk, and chilly but not too cold, and the sky was blue save for a few high puffy clouds. The border of the path down to the gate that led to the lane was lined with late daisies, cornflower, stonecrop, mums, marigolds and lady's mantle, interspersed with clusters of delphiniums and pinks and snapdragons and cosmos. He knew that the brilliant display would be gone in only a few weeks, as Master Tam and his assistant Holman Greenhand, who was only a couple of years younger than Bilbo would put the beds to sleep, all tucked up under a tidy blanket of mulch.

He cut across the lane and the Party Field beyond, waving cheerily at the various hobbits he saw; then he swung to the left, back in the direction of the Road as it led towards Bywater. It was Market Day in Hobbiton, and he had hoped to leave the bustle behind him as he sought solitude; but he was rather too early to miss everyone from Bywater who decided to head to Hobbiton. Many of them stopped him to thank him once more for the hospitality of his party.

"Oh, yes, Mistress Tunnelly! I am very glad that you enjoyed the party; it seemed to be very successful," he repeated for the fourth time. But before he could excuse himself to the garrulous hobbitess, she continued.

"Well, now young Mr. Baggins, seeing as you are of age I am sure you will soon be looking for a nice lass to settle down with! Have you ever met my niece, Melba?"

Bilbo's eyes grew wide, as his brain frantically tried to find a reasonable answer to her question other than "Yes, I have and found her to be an empty-headed bore," which though true, was hardly polite.

He was spared having to answer when Mr. Tunnelly, who had been standing quietly by puffing his pipe and rolling his eyes as his wife yammered on and on, spoke up sharply. "Lavinia! Come along; we'll miss the best of the fruit if we don't get going! It's been nice to see you, Mr. Bilbo. Give our greetings to your father!" He cast an apologetic look at Bilbo, grabbed his wife's hand, and headed in the direction of Hobbiton.

Bilbo heaved a sigh of relief and cast silent thanks to Mr. Tunnelly for sparing him the need to answer his wife. How much of /Ithat/I was he going to have to put up with now that he was of age? How was he going to avoid all the matchmaking?

Bywater was quiet, as most folks had gone in to Hobbiton for the market. Of course, next week, Hobbiton would return the favour and head to Bywater to shop at their market. He decided to take elevenses at The Green Dragon. As he went into the inn, he saw he was right about the lack of a crowd. The only customers were two old gaffers absorbed in a game of draughts, and two hobbits he knew (Grubb, Grubb, and Burrowes were the Baggins family solicitors) who were clearly deep in a business discussion and did not even notice that Bilbo had come in. He went to a corner table, and when the serving lass came over, he ordered an ale, some brown bread, sharp cheese and pickles.

She soon brought his order with a flourish and a saucy smile which made him blush. But the ale was good, and the food tasty. He concentrated on his meal; the pickles were tart, the cheese rich and the bread slightly sweet and nutty flavoured. He was nearly finished with his meal when the two lawyers finished their discussion and noticed his presence as they rose to leave. They stopped at the table to greet him, and to inquire about his father's health, but did not linger to converse, much to Bilbo's relief.

He left coins on the table and left The Green Dragon, cutting across country once more. He wandered near the Water, and found a pleasant spot up the bank to sit beneath a willow tree in the dappled shade. He pulled out the book he'd brought along and his pipe, and soon was reading the poems of Iris Brandybuck Took.

Her words brought fresh meaning to the simple and homely topics that brought delight to the hearts of hobbits: the feel of warm sunshine, the delight of finding an unexpected bounty of mushrooms in the woods, the joy of a lark's song, the beauty of the trees in autumn. And then there came a long poem that was clearly about her courtship and marriage. Bilbo found himself growing quite melancholy. He closed the book, and a rumble from his middle made him realise it was time for luncheon. He took the food he'd brought with him from his satchel and ate it, and then had a smoke. He saw fish splashing in the Water and wished he'd brought a pole. Instead, he leaned back against the tree, tipped his hat over his eyes and took a nap.

He was in a tunnel, lost in the dark, alone. Where were his companions? For that matter, who were his companions? He had been with others in this frightening place, he knew he had, but now he could recall none of them nor how he had come to be here. He heard an angry hissing, and it terrified him. It was chasing him through the dark maze of the caverns, and every time he turned away from the sound, suddenly it was in front of him once more. Terrified, he ran, but it felt as if he were going nowhere. The hissing sound seemed to come from everywhere at once: one word that he could barely understand...was it "precious"?

Bilbo woke with a start, sat forward abruptly and shook his head, forgetting for an instant where he was. But he soon recalled. "That foolish dream again!" Ever since the Fell Winter, he had been visited by that particular dream off and on. He took a deep breath and then a drink of water from his waterskin. Then he pulled himself up with his walking stick and looked up at the sky. He had better hurry if he wanted to be home in time for tea!

He once more cut across country, taking the direct route back to Bag End, though it meant jumping hedges and hurdling fences. More than a few amused looks were cast in his direction. He slowed down as he crossed the Party Field. He would be in good time after all. He didn't care to enter the Ismial/I puffing like a grampus. Come to think of it, what was a grampus*? So far as he knew it was a saying only among the Tooks. Whatever one was, it must puff a lot...

After tea, he went to the study to prepare for his students' lessons the next day. They had slacked off somewhat as the party was being prepared for, but now they would all get back to work-all save Rory, who was now probably a good third of the way back to Buckland.

The family spent the evening as they often did, sitting around the hearth in the parlour, as Bilbo and Bungo read and Belladonna worked on her needlewo; tonight she was putting the final touches to the doily she had been working on in the morning. Bilbo found he was tired after his long excursion, and for once, he retired before his parents did.

Yet no matter how tired he was, sleep eluded him. Finally he got up and made his way to the kitchen and brewed a cup of chamomile tea, and found a current scone left from supper.

Bilbo sat there sipping at his tea and picking at the scone and growing more and more melancholy by the moment. His earlier dream had unsettled him, and the encounter with the matchmaking hobbitess in Bywater had alarmed him, and he kept thinking of the evening of his birthday party. For all his friends life was moving on, but he felt at a standstill. Here he was of age now, and there had been many comely lasses at his party. Yet not one of them had stirred his heart and caused it to flutter the way it had on that single day long ago when he'd danced with Pomona.

"Bilbo?"

He gave a start at his mother's soft voice. Belladonna came into the kitchen, pulling the tie on her pale yellow dressing gown.

"Mama? Are you well?" He gave her a worried glance.

She smiled at him, and went to get a cup before sitting down next to him at the table. She poured herself a cup. "I am fine, son. But I put my head into your room to check on you and found it empty. Then I heard stirring in here. She studied his face and said "You look very solemn for one who has just celebrated his coming of age." She reached over and cupped his cheek with her hand.

"What troubles you so, my dearest?"

Under his mother's gentle scrutiny, all his uncertainty came tumbling from his mouth: how the sight of cousins and friends his age or only a little older paired up and courting, some betrothed, some even already married and with families, had made him fear he'd never have a family of his own.

His mother smiled at him. "Perhaps you have not met her yet, the lass you are meant to be with."

The look Bilbo gave her was so sorrowful it sparked tears in her own eyes.

"Mama, I think perhaps I did, and let my chance slip away."

She reached across the table and took one of his hands in both of hers. "Tell me about it, Bilbo-love."

"Remember the lass I danced with at Adalgrim's wedding?"

Belladonna nodded. "Periwinkle's younger sister, Pomona?"

"Yes. It took all the courage I had to ask her to dance with me. I couldn't get up the nerve to ask her father if we could correspond, and we were barely tweens; I did not think he would allow it."

"I see."

"So I didn't say anything to her then. But I just couldn't get her out of my mind. When I went to Whitwell a few years ago, I was determined to ask her if she might one day return my regard; but she was no longer there. She had gone away to become a healer's apprentice."

"Healers do occasionally wed, even if not often! Look at Mistress Rose!"

"Yes, but Pomona has gone to the Northfarthing to take up her practice! What are the chances we shall ever meet again?" He sounded miserable.

Belladonna studied her son's face; he needed reassurance badly. Perhaps she could give it, though it was not a thing she had ever spoken of before; even among Tooks it was seldom mentioned aloud. "Bilbo, believe me when I say you will have a family someday."

He sighed, and looked at her fondly but doubtfully. She could tell from his face that she was only saying that to cheer him up.

She gazed at him intently. "I know it's rarely mentioned, but you have heard that Tooks occasionally have true dreaming?

Bilbo's gaze sharpened, and he made a wordless cry of surprise.

She smiled. "I have dreamed it more than once: You are a hobbit of late middle years, Bilbo, and you are walking down the lane with a handsome lad in his early tweens. He is fair of skin and dark of hair, clearly taking after my side of the family. But the two of you are laughing and talking. I have no doubt whatsoever that lad is your son."

She was pleased to see his face light up with hope. "Mama!" he exclaimed, "truly?"

"I truly believe it is so, son." She smiled. "You go along now and get some sleep. I'll wash up the tea cups."

She watched him fondly as he left, but as soon as he was gone and she began to gather up the few dishes, she allowed her troubled thoughts to show. Of all the times she had dreamt of Bilbo and the lad she had come to think of as her grandson, she had never once seen wife and mother. And there had been a few less happy dreams as well. But foresight was a tricky thing, and there was good reason the Tooks so gifted rarely spoke of it even among themselves.

x0x0x0x0x

*So far as I could find out with my research "grampus" was an archaic term for a dolphin or porpoise, and the phrase probably originated from the "puffing" of the animal's blowhole. "Puffing like a grampus" is an old-fashioned saying, and most people who use it probably never wonder what a grampus is; Bilbo, with his love of words, is one who would wonder.

In my head, this is probably a phrase brought home to the Shire by Isengar Took after his own Adventure when he went to sea!

Chapter 37: Standing Witness for the Groom

1 Lithe, S.R. 1324

It was the daylight that awakened Bilbo, coming as it did from a completely different location than he was used to; come to think of it, his feet were pointing in the wrong direction as well. He slowly opened his eyes and remembered: he was in his guestroom at Oldsmials, in the village of Upper Leafham, in the Southfarthing, and tomorrow Siggy and Malva were being wed and he had a lot to do, since he was standing witness for the groom!

He hopped out of bed and began his morning ablutions, washing up, getting dressed and combing his head and feet. Then he went across the hall to the closed door directly opposite, and knocked firmly. "I'm already awake, Bilbo," called Siggy's voice. "Come in."

Siggy was almost dressed; he stood in shirt, breeches and braces, and was just finishing up combing his toes. Bilbo waited while his cousin slipped into his weskit and jacket, and the two headed towards the main dining room of Oldsmials. The room was already milling with hobbits: those who lived there, guests, and servants. Unlike the dining room at the Great Smials, with its high table for the Thain's family and the long tables for others and the tables set aside for tweens and children, this room was filled with many smaller round tables which would seat at most six. All the tables were the same, though by tradition the center table was set aside for The Hornblower and immediate family. Most of the families ate together, children and tweens as well, save for those who were so young as to still be in the nursery. Guests usually sat with the persons who had invited them, but on an occasion like this where there were many guests of no one in particular, they sat wherever they could. The Hornblower table was empty, for the family was breakfasting in private. However, Bilbo spotted Adalgrim and Periwinkle at a table on their own. He and Siggy loaded their plates at the sideboard and went over to join their cousin and his wife.

"Good morning, Bilbo, Sigismond," said Periwinkle. She looked more relaxed than Bilbo had seen her in a long while; perhaps that was due to them leaving the children with her older brother and his family while they had journeyed to the wedding in the Southfarthing.

" 'Morning, cousins," Adalgrim greeted them. "Oh, good! I see you got some of those sausages! They've got bits of apple in them. So, what are the plans for the day?"

Siggy made an incoherent mumble, as he had just taken a bite of the sausage. Bilbo had yet to put anything in his mouth, so he answered: "I've got to do a number of things. The main one is keeping the groom away from the bride."

"Silly tradition!" exclaimed Siggy, having swallowed his food. "I can't think why they do it!"

"It's the tradition here in the Southfarthing," Bilbo reminded him, "and as they think seeing the bride the day before the wedding is as unlucky as bringing a gift to the wedding, you'd do well to stick by it! Even if you don't think it bad luck, your future in-laws do." Bilbo's tone was firm and slightly impatient. He and Siggy had already had this conversation several times.

Siggy sighed, and took a bite of his eggs, and for a while they ate quietly except for the occasional word of appreciation for the food.

"I'll be helping with the preparations for tomorrow," said Periwinkle, "as well as the bride's party this evening."

Bilbo looked at Adalgrim. "If I leave the groom in your charge this morning, can you keep the two of you out of trouble until elevenses?"

"Oi!" Siggy exclaimed indignantly. Bilbo ignored him.

Adalgrim opened his mouth to reply when Periwinkle said. "He can and will keep the both of them out of trouble, Bilbo." She fixed her husband with a gimlet eye.

Adalgrim nodded meekly and asked, "What will you be doing Bilbo?"

"I have to deliver the Marriage Contract to Mistress Ermintrude, and then speak to the other witnesses and make sure all of them have arrived. I thought after elevenses, we could pick up a hamper for lunch and then perhaps spend some time on the links, until time to get ready for the groom's party." Bilbo was not especially excited about golf, though he played passingly well, but he knew that both his Took cousins were. They'd been thrilled to discover the estate boasted a small course.

Unlike weddings at the Great Smials or in Hobbiton, where the groom's party was held at an inn or tavern, at Oldsmials (which was sufficiently distant from any inn or tavern to make that impractical) the bride's party took over the smial the night before the wedding, while the groom's friends took over the large grounds behind the smial, where there was much cooking over open fires and a good deal of consumption of ale. Both parties began at teatime and continued until the Moon set.

Siggy and Adalgrim both found the plan agreeable, so when they had finished first breakfast, Bilbo left the others and went back to his room to fetch the Marriage Lines. It had been his job to pick it up from the famous calligrapher in Waymeet and bring it to the wedding. Master Heron had placed it in a long leather tube for safekeeping, and Bilbo brought it forth from beneath his bed, and made his way to the Family wing.

Mistress Ermintrude Hornblower, widow of Tobold IV, and great-aunt of the bride, was the current Head of the Hornblowers, and a formidable Family Head she was*. Bilbo was ushered in to her presence by a maidservant. With her were her sons Tobold V and Tobias, Malva's father Hubald, and Grimauld Took (who was a cousin of Bilbo and one of the Took family lawyers). They would look over the contract to be sure there were no errors.

Bilbo took it from the case and laid it out upon a large table there in the sitting room. It was a beautiful document with a large floral border and gilt capitals. He sat down in an armchair out of the way, while everyone else studied the document carefully. He was pleased to see Tobias there, as he was one of the seven witnesses.

Three of seven on the scene: himself, Adalgrim and Tobias. He knew Uncles Isembras and Isengar were due to arrive sometime today. Now he had to locate the bride's maternal cousin, Ardo Longbottom and her brother Magnus. He glanced up to see Mistress Ermintrude rolling the contract up an returning it to its case. She smiled at him. "Would you care to join us for second breakfast, Mr. Baggins?"

He gave an appreciative sniff of the delightful smells coming from the private dining room and accepted with alacrity.

Afterwards, his next stop was the set of rooms which were being used by the bride's family, and the main reason he had wished for Siggy to remain with Adalgrim; after all, it would not do if Malva happened to be there when Bilbo went to check on her brother Magnus and her cousin Ardo Longbottom. It was as well. Malva was indeed in the sitting room with her mother when Bilbo was admitted, and she paled at the sight of him until he assured her that her groom was not nearby. Both Magnus and Ardo were there and still willing and able to witness the wedding.

Bilbo spoke with them briefly. "Don't overindulge at the groom's party!" he laughed as he left them to go find his cousins. Only his uncles had yet to arrive. If they had not come by the time of the party, he would need to find two substitutes. He began going over the guests he had seen and wondering who might do.

He found Siggy and Adalgrim awaiting him on the wide veranda that spanned the front of the hill. Siggy had a hamper from the kitchens with a bottle of cold tea, fruit and sandwiches. Though none of them had brought clubs, there was a hut near the links where spare clubs for guests were kept. They played four holes before stopping to sit beneath a tree and eat their meal. Deciding it was too hot to continue, they played the same four holes back to the start, and returned the clubs to the hut. It was still too early to get ready for the party, but they wandered back towards the Ismial/I in a desultory fashion. As they neared the hole, they saw a familiar coach pull up.

Bilbo heaved a sigh of relief, and crossed his uncles off his list.

x0x0x0x

The party that evening was not as rowdy as some groom's night parties Bilbo had attended. There was plenty of food-platters of fried fish, a whole pig had been roasting in a pit most of the day, potatoes roasted in their jackets, flatbread baked in the embers, and vegetables cooked in shovels over the coals. The ale flowed like water; but not for Bilbo, who managed to nurse just one the whole evening. He kept an eagle eye on Siggy, and cut the groom off at three.

"Three? It takes a lot more than three ales to get me drunk!" was the indignant response.

"Think about Malva. Think about tomorrow." That cut Siggy's complaints off neatly.

With all the females attending the bride's party there was no dancing, but there was plenty of singing, many of the songs of a sort that would not have been at all approved of had any wives or mothers been there to hear. But when the moon set and the servants began dowsing the fires the hobbits began making their way to the smial. Some indeed were left slumbering beneath the tables.

Bilbo made sure none of them were witnesses for the wedding.

x0x0x0x

2 Lithe, S.R. 1324

In the large open pavilion set on the wide expanse of green lawn, Mistress Ermintrude stood to the left of the table on which the Marriage Lines had been placed, along with the bottle of red ink and the quill a green candle in a silver candlestick burned at one side of the contract. Siggy and Bilbo stood on the other side. Siggy's hands were firmly clasped behind his back, but his nervousness showed in the way he was slightly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Then there was the collective sigh from the guests as the bride and her witness came forth. Malva was clad in a pale green frock, and was crowned with summer flowers. Her sister Melinda wore lavender.

Mistress Ermintrude cleared her throat as the two lasses stopped in front of her."I have before me two hobbits who have come with a petition of marriage. Who will vouch for them?"

Bilbo stood forth. "I am Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit of Hobbiton. I present Sigismond Took, a hobbit of Tuckborough, known to me as a hobbit of good character, who is of age, with no reasons why he should not be wed." He reached to his side and gave Siggy a slight push forward.

"I am Melinda Hornblower, a hobbitess of Upper Leafham. I present Malva Hornblower, a hobbitess of Upper Leafham, known to me as a hobbitess of good character, who is of age, with no reasons why she should not be wed."

"Sigismond Took, is it your intent to wed Malva Hornblower, of your own free will?"

"It is," Siggy's voice was slightly high-pitched, but it was firm enough.

"Malva Hornblower, is it your intent to wed Sigismond Took, of your own free will?"

"Yes," Malva looked her great-aunt firmly in the eye. Mistress Ermintrude allowed herself the tiniest of smiles.

"Malva Hornblower and Sigismond Took, you have declared before witnesses your intent to wed. The duties of marriage are to honour and support one another; the blessings of marriage are to love and respect one another. These duties and these blessings are meant to last for a lifetime. Are you prepared to take on these tasks, through such joys and sorrows as may in time come to you?"

"Yes, we are!"

Mistress Ermintrude now allowed herself a real smile. "This is the happiest of occasions, not simply because two great families are uniting, but because two young people have learned to know their own minds, and more importantly their own hearts. They have found they are better together than apart, and they already know how to overcome their own tempers in order to stay together. In that, they are perhaps, ahead of many newlyweds. Malva and Sigismond, may your blessings be many, may your sorrows be few, and may you never lose the delight of making up after life's inevitable quarrels!" Most of the guests laughed, for all there knew of their tempestuous courtship.

"Would the designated witnesses step forward: Bilbo Baggins, Isembras Took IV, Isengar Took, Adalgrim Took, Tobias Hornblower, Magnus Hornblower, and Ardo Longbottom."

The quill was taken up first by the groom and then the bride. Malva handed it to Bilbo and he wrote his name with a flourish, passing the quill on to Uncle Isembras. Once all the witnesses had signed, Mistress Ermintrude signed at the bottom, then she dripped wax from the candle at one corner and firmly pressed her signet ring upon it.

"With the signing of this document, and by my authority as Head of the Hornblower family, I now declare these two hobbits are husband and wife." She looked at the couple, who were staring into one another's eyes. "Well," she hissed, "aren't you going to kiss?"

Watching as his friend kissed his bride very thoroughly, Bilbo wondered would such a day ever come for him?

x0x0x0x

*Author's Note: According to JRRT's Letter #214 the widow of a Family Head would become the Family Head in his place for her lifetime. In my Shire fanon, she has the option of passing the responsibility on to her oldest son (if he is of age) if she does not wish to carry on as Family Head. But during Bilbo's youth it was most common for her to keep to the tradition.

Chapter 38: Farewell to Bungo

6 Winterfilth, SR 1326

The day was foggy and damp and dreary, the sort of day that gave Winterfilth its name. Bilbo stood numbly by his mother's side, his arm about her shoulders. He was quite sure that his expression was every bit as bleak as hers. He could not bring himself to look upon the shrouded figure in the long deep hole at his feet. That bundle of white linen was not his father.

At his mother's other side was Aunt Rosa, who was his cousin on his Baggins side. Adalgrim had brought her. No other Tooks had come; her husband Hildigrim would have only been a reminder of her disgrace. Since Uncle Longo and his family were in attendance it was thought best not to stir up old gossip. All the Baggins aunts and uncles were there, along with their connexions among the Bolgers, Proudfoots, Chubbs and Goodbodies.

Uncle Longo. It stuck in Bilbo's craw. Longo was the eldest Baggins now, and so tradition and propriety meant that it was he who would give the eulogy. Yet there had always been a rift between the brothers. Longo had been jealous of Bungo's place as family Head, and resented his marriage to a Took. The two had not spoken for decades, and since Longo had relocated to the Southfarthing on his own marriage it had been no hardship. Belladonna had hoped that Uncle Bingo would do it instead, but to no avail. Bingo Baggins was genial and kind-hearted, but like most Bagginses placed a high value on propriety. He would not buck tradition.

And now Longo cleared his throat and began pompously enough, to speak of his older brother's long battle with poor health since the Fell Winter, and how it was now a blessing that Bungo no longer had to suffer and struggle. No mention of what a good father and husband he had been, nor how well he had always managed the affairs of the Hill, nor of his many kindnesses to others, nor what an excellent scholar and teacher he had been. No, so far as Uncle Longo was concerned, his older brother was completely defined by the poor health that had plagued him for the last fourteen years. Bilbo glanced over at his mother. Her green eyes glittered, and there were two bright red spots on her cheeks. Her apathy was gone, and had now been replaced by anger.

In truth, while he would never regain his old vigour, Bungo had seemed somewhat improved over the last year. He'd begun to take an interest in Bilbo's students, was taking short walks each day, and had seemed happier and less inclined to fall asleep during the day. It had been quite a shock to Bilbo and Belladonna when Bungo had suddenly collapsed in the lane during one of his walks a few days earlier. Neighbours had brought him home, but his spirit had already fled.

Longo finished his remarks rather abruptly, then bent to take up a scant handful of dirt to drop into the grave. He immediately dusted his hands and began to head back down the Hill to Bag End. Bilbo supported his mother as she, too, dropped in a handful of earth; Bilbo did the same. Other mourners followed suit. Old Tam Goodchild and his apprentice Holman Greenhand stood by with spades to finish the work. Unlike the Tooks and a few other Great Families, the Bagginses had no special burial grounds. They followed the oldest of hobbit traditions: no coffin, just a shroud; no place to mark one hobbit's resting place apart from another. Generations of Bagginses were buried atop the Hill and became a part of it. Bilbo knew that within weeks the freshly turned earth would not be discernible from the rest of the Hill. But he knew. His father lay in the western shade of the old oak rooftree, and one day his mother would take her final rest in the same spot. Thinking of that day pierced Bilbo's heart like a dagger; with his father gone, would his mother stay long? Was it selfish of him to hope she would not leave him yet?

The family solicitor, Humbert Grubb (a fourth cousin through Grandmother Laura), was waiting in the parlour as the relatives crowded in. Those who were not quite such close family went on to the kitchen to help in preparing the funeral feast, while the most distant relations and friends melted away. Some would go down to Greenbriars, where Cousin Fosco had taken care to have a less elaborate feast laid out; others would go on to The Ivy Bush . Mr. Grubb was sitting at a small table set beneath the window; chairs for Bilbo and his mother were next to the table. Some of the relatives crowded onto the settee, and Longo claimed one of the armchairs by the hearth. His wife Camellia would have taken the other, but Aunt Belba had beaten her to it, and no glares from her younger brother or his wife would move her. Her husband, Uncle Rudigar Bolger stood behind her, his hands upon her shoulders. Aunt Linda had taken another sidechair, but all the rest of the kinfolk in the room had to stand, save Longo's young son Otho, who sat on the hearth.

Mr. Grubb pulled a large document out of his breast pocket and unfolded it. It was, of course, Bungo's will. Considering that Bungo had held the Headship of one of the Great Families, it was fairly simple. The Headship passed to his widow Belladonna Took Baggins for her life or so long as she cared to keep it, after which it would pass to his only son Bilbo. Bag End was bequeathed to Belladonna for her lifetime, and to Bilbo and his heirs after him. A few family heirlooms were passed to Bungo's brothers and sisters: the portrait of Mungo and Laura went to Bingo; to Linda, a beautiful lace tablecloth made by Great-grandmother Berylla; to Longo a silver bowl (one that Bungo had always thought rather hideous) that had been Longo's own wedding gift to his brother; to Belba a marvelous quilt made by Laura and Belba together when Belba was just a tween.

There were also a few small bequests of money to some of the families on the Hill, and some of his old students were given tokens of his esteem, mostly books. His longtime healer Mistress Sage was bequeathed a sum of money to cover the fees of hobbits too poor to pay her. The biggest surprise was that he had left the deed to Greenbriars outright to Cousin Fosco (for though his family had lived there since just before the Fell Winter, the property had remained that of the Bagginses as a whole). Now ownership would pass to the cadet line that descended from Great-uncle Largo.

"Now see here!" exclaimed Longo, "he can't do that!"

Mr. Grubb fixed Longo with a glare, and pushed his pince-nez up his nose. "Yes he could. As Family Head that was his prerogative, so long as an inhabitance was made available as the family seat. That is now Bag End."

Longo sat back, clearly fuming. But any further protests would bring scandal down on the family. He contented himself with a glare.

The lawyer continued. "This will is his Last Testament, drawn up in the Year of Shire Reckoning 1323, and witnessed by Rudigar Bolger, Bodo Proudfoot, Bingo Baggins, Polo Baggins, Fosco Baggins, Fortinbras Took II, and Isengrim III, Thain of the Shire."

Mr. Grubb stood up. "This concludes the reading of the Will."

Bilbo stood up and looked out the window. Nothing in his father's will had surprised him; it had been drawn up right after his own coming of age, and Bungo had showed it to him before it had been signed and witnessed. "No secrets between us, son. You are of age now, and in no need of a guardian. You'll be Master of the Hill after me, and the Baggins after your mother, so you need to know how things stand. No telling how long I will last; any turn might carry me off, you know that." Bilbo had been touched by his father's confidence and trust, but had felt dreadfully uncomfortable discussing Bungo's possible death. Now it had come to pass.

The family began to mill around the room, and Longo came over to Belladonna and bent over her. Bilbo turned to hear him saying, "Now, Belladonna, you have been dealt a grievous blow. I am sure you would rather not take on the responsibilities of being the Head of the Family, especially as the ways of your own family are so...different...than ours. If you should pass it on to Bilbo now, he will not lack for guidance from his uncles..."

Bilbo felt his temper rising at this blatant attempt by his uncle to take over the family affairs, but before he could intervene, Belladonna stood up; her own temper was clearly roused. "Longo Baggins, you dare to try and undermine your brother's wishes under his own roof! Listen, and listen well: I am the Baggins now, by your brother's will and by the long tradition of our people. I will not give it over to suit you, but if I do, at some point, decide to do so, my son, Bungo's son, is more than capable of running the Baggins family without any so-called guidance from you." She drew in a deep breath through her nose. Bilbo saw she was trembling with anger. He moved to Belladonna's side, took her elbow, and leveled his own glare at Longo.

Longo looked as though he had more to say, but before he could do so, Camellia came and put a hand on his arm. "Now, now, dear! I am sure this is not the best time to discuss such things with poor Belladonna. Come away, now." She gave him a tug, and he turned to go, but Bilbo (whose ears were sharper than the average hobbit) could hear her whispering to him. "Longo, your timing is atrocious! Not here in front of everyone!"

"But you said she'd listen better while her grief was fresh..."

Bilbo was furious, but nothing more could be said or done without making a scene; that would have been the last thing his father would have wanted. He had hated that sort of thing.

Just then, Aunt Rosa, who had been overseeing the kitchen came to announce the meal was ready, and everyone quickly made their way to the dining room. Bilbo felt rather odd, for he was sitting in the place that had been his mother's, while she was seated at the head of the table. There was plenty of food in a wide variety, and Bilbo filled his plate as expected, and moved it with his fork to his mouth; but he might as well be eating grass and rainwater. It was tasteless to him, and for once he did not care what he was eating. Every once in a while, he'd forget to eat at all, for most of his attention was on his mother. She was not even trying to eat, though she pushed the food around on her plate. Suddenly she caught his regard, and actually took a bite of whatever was on her fork. He could see her clearly make an effort to chew and swallow, but at least it was a start.

Soon the meal drew to an end. Longo conceded the traditional toast to Rudigar Bolger. Perhaps, Bilbo thought, he feared saying the wrong thing and antagonizing Belladonna again.

"To Bungo Baggins, a true Baggins indeed! Long may his memory live in the hearts of his family and friends!"

Shortly after, most began to leave. A few, including Longo and his family, were staying with Fosco and Ruby at Greenbriars. Rosa and Adalgrim and Belba and Rudigar were staying at Bag End. Most of the others were staying with various family members in Hobbiton, or at The Ivy Bush. It was late by the time farewells had been said, and Bilbo saw his mother to her bed. Once she was alone except for him, her sorrow and apathy returned. She willingly drank the tea Mistress Sage had left, to help her find sleep in her now solitary bed. Bilbo sat in the chair by her side until he was sure she slept.

Then he went to his own room and his own bed, and wept himself to sleep, for he would miss having his father in his life. He could not imagine Bag End without Bungo—and yet he would not have to imagine it, for it had happened and his father was gone.

Aunt Belba and Uncle Rudy left the next day, but Aunt Rosa and Adalgrim stayed on a couple of days until the third day when Aunt Donnamira arrived alone, to stay on and be a support for her sister as long as Belladonna needed her.

Bilbo felt a wrench at his cousin's leaving. Having Chop at his side had made him feel safe among all the changes in his world. He and Chop did not talk of things the way he and Siggy had always been able to do, but he was a solid presence and support, whether they sat out at night blowing smoke rings, or shared an ale or a late night cup of tea. He listened to Chop talk of his family, or of the history of the Tooks, or the doings at the farm, and was able to put his sorrow aside for a while.

Aunt Donnamira was quiet and composed, and Bilbo knew she was a great comfort to his mother. One night, as he sat in the study marking some of his student's work—for he had felt it important to start as he meant to go on—that he could overhear his mother and his aunt talking, though he could not understand their words. He heard them laugh.

His mother was laughing; he had not heard her laugh since they had lost Bungo. Bless you, Aunt Donna, he thought. Perhaps life would not be so bleak as he had imagined. If his mother still knew how to laugh, then perhaps he could recall how as well. He heard them laugh once more, and he smiled as he turned his attention back to the essay on the founding of Hobbiton.

x0x0x0x

(Author's Note: According to Tolkien's Letter #214, in the Shire it is the custom that if the widow survives her husband, she becomes the legal Head of the Family. In "my" Shire universe, she has the option of turning that position over to her eldest son if she wishes and if he is of age. However, at the time Bilbo's father died, few widows exercised that option and most remained the Head for their lifetime. In later generations because of the actions of one particular widow, keeping the headship fell out of favor. Few widows wished to be compared to Lalia. (The only named hobbit who appears outside the context of TH or LotR or their drafts, she appears solely in Letter #214.)

Author's Notes: The first part of this chapter appeared in 2005 as a one-shot story for hobbit_ficathon, called "A Young Hobbit's Fancy".

In this story, Drogo is 22 (about the equivalent in maturity of a 14 ½ year-old Man), and Otho is 20, (or about 12 ½).

Chapter 39: Family Matters

14 Thrimidge, S.R. 1330

"Drogo?" There was a slightly sharp edge to the query that made Drogo realize his name had been called more than once.

"I'm sorry, Cousin Bilbo," the tweenager replied. "I'm afraid I was not paying very close attention." His gaze flicked once more to the sounds of laughter coming through Bilbo's study window.

"I asked you, Drogo, what major event took place in the year 1147?"

With a start the young hobbit came to himself, and after a brief struggle to get his mind on lessons once more, replied "That was the year Bandobras Took, also known as 'Bullroarer' drove the goblins out of the Shire?" Normally he would have sounded a bit more confident of himself, but his inattention had shaken him. He was usually very good at lessons, and Cousin Bilbo had told him more than once that he was his brightest pupil. This was embarrassing.

A gentle breeze billowed the gauzy curtains, bringing with it the smells of flowers and grass clippings, and more sounds of laughter.

Both hobbits now looked out the window. On the field below Bag End could be seen the figures of several lads engaged in a rowdy game of "Breakthrough". Two teams would form lines, holding hands firmly. One team would call on a member of the other team, who would then race forward, and try to break the hold between two team members. If he failed to break through, he remained on that team, however, if he did manage to do so, he returned to his own side, taking one of the losers with him. The game could get very fierce. Bilbo recalled the fun he'd had in his own youth playing that game with his cousins.

Drogo sighed. It was a Highday, and the working class lads all had the afternoon free. He was a gentlehobbit, however, and here he was, stuck doing lessons on a lovely spring afternoon.

Bilbo cast a sympathetic look at his young cousin. Drogo had missed a lesson earlier in the week, due to his grandmother's birthday, and so it had needed to be made up. But it was hard on a young lad to be cooped up inside on such a lovely spring day.

Fosco and Ruby counted on him to be teaching his cousin; still, when the mind was elsewhere it was hard to learn anything. He turned and looked out the window at the lads at play, and an idea came to him.

"Drogo?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I think that I should like you to write an essay for me as homework, on the benefits of fresh air and exercise. Now, in order to do that, do you not think it necessary that you have a bit of experience of them?" Bilbo's blue eyes twinkled, as he gestured out the window with his chin.

Drogo leaped up, and gave his older cousin a hug. "Cousin Bilbo! I think that a splendid idea! Thank you!"

"Well, then, be off with you, lad! It looks to me as though they are choosing up sides for another round!"

Bilbo watched his cousin race to the field and become just one more small figure in the game. This was far too nice a day to stay indoors. He might be too grown-up for the lads' games, but it would be a lovely time for a ramble.

He paused only briefly to don his jacket and tuck in a pocket handkerchief.

Bilbo's walk took him in the direction of Overhill, and he decided that a brief visit to Uncle Bingo and Aunt Chica was in order. It would be nice to see young Falco again. The lad had not been one of Bilbo's pupils for the past year; it had turned out to be too far for him to come to Bag End three times a week; so his parents had arranged for him to study instead with Chica's brother Cheldric.

His uncle lived in a low rambling dwelling that was as much house as it was hole; the front garden was taken over by his aunt's rosebushes and the scent of the blooms was heady. He went up the path, and tugged the bell-pull next to the red door. The door was opened by Uncle Bingo himself.

"Bilbo, what a surprise! Have you had luncheon yet? We were just about to sit down at the table!"

Bilbo quickly accepted the invitation (though he had purchased a sausage roll at the bakery when he passed through Hobbiton, that could scarcely be considered a proper meal!) which he had more or less anticipated when he had made the decision to drop in.

Bingo led Bilbo to the dining room, where he had been warmly greeted by his cousins-not only Falco, but the two younger children, Fatima and Folcard. As the younger ones gave Bilbo enthusiastic hugs, Falco went to sideboard and got another place setting for his older cousin.

Bilbo was glad to tuck into slices of roast lamb, freshly baked rolls, baby carrots glazed with butter and honey, and a crisp salad of rocket dressed with oil and vinegar. After complimenting his aunt on her cooking, he listened as his cousins regaled him with some of the recent family doings. Little Folcard had just lost a tooth, and Fatima was just beginning to learn her letters from big brother Falco. Bilbo filled them in on what was going on in Hobbiton, and some of the doings of the Tooks according to his mother's latest letter from her family.

"How about Rory?" Falco asked.

Bilbo smiled; during a visit several years ago, Rory and Falco had become good friends. "He wrote me that he's teaching his youngest sister Primula how to swim," Bilbo said, enjoyed Falco's wide eyes, and the scandalized expressions on his aunt's and uncle's faces. "But of course, that's only to be expected among Brandybucks."

There was a lull in the conversation as Aunt Chica brought out a custard tart for afters, and then Uncle Bingo said

"I received a letter from Longo yesterday."

Bilbo looked sharply at Bingo and almost dropped his fork. Longo's correspondence with the rest of the family was rare and never without purpose. "And what did he have to say?"

"He'll be moving back to Hobbiton this summer." Uncle Bingo glanced at the children, who had finished their pudding, and said, "Falco, Fatima and Folcard, you are excused. Why don't you go outside and play?"

Folcard started to object, but Falco realized his parents wanted to speak to Bilbo about "grown-up" matters. He took his little brother's hand and said "Come on, Folly! We'll go down to the pond and see if the ducklings have hatched yet!"

Once the youngsters were gone, Bingo sat back and sighed. "Bilbo, I am glad you came by today, for you've saved me a journey to Bag End. Longo's business interests lie, for the most part, in the Southfarthing. The only reason he'd be relocating to Hobbiton is to interfere with your mother's standing as Head of the Family."

"He must know that if he pressured my mother into handing over the Headship, I'd certainly never listen to his advice. Not, of course, that he could do such a thing. He complains about her Tookish heritage-but part of that heritage is stubbornness. She can remember only too well how he tried to drive a wedge between her and my father when they were courting."

"Still, ever since your father made Bag End the family seat instead of Greenbriars he's been angry. And I think he believes his family stands a chance at taking Bag End over eventually. After all, your mother's health is not as good as it could be; and you've not taken a wife yet, either."

"Uncle Bingo! I'm only forty!"

"A lot of hobbits are married and have children who are much younger than you are," his Aunt Chica put in. "You've shown little interest in the lasses since you came of age. I know being an only child has made you shy; perhaps I could make some introductions..."

The last thing Bilbo wanted was for his aunt to try matchmaking for him. He did not feel comfortable confiding the state of his heart, but he had to head this off. "Aunt Chica, I will not name any names, but there is a lass I have regard for. Sadly, she shows no signs of returning my regard or that of any other suitor. The time is not yet right. I can say no more."

Chica's expression grew sympathetic and she patted his arm. "I understand," she said, "but if I can help in any way, let me know.."

"On Highday the first of Summerfilth,"* he thought to himself. His aunt meant well, she really did, but the best intentions often go wildly awry. "Thank you for your concern, Aunt Chica."

"Well," said Uncle Bingo, "as you say, you are only forty. But be sure to talk this over with your mother. She needs to know what Longo is up to." Bingo had never fallen out with his brother, as Bungo had, but he recalled only too well how Longo had turned his back on the rest of the Bagginses when he had a chance of achieving wealth and status through the Sackvilles.

Bilbo started back to Bag End after luncheon. Overhill was further from Hobbiton than Bywater, and it was likely that he'd not be home until nearly suppertime. His mother was to have taken tea with Fosco and Ruby at Greenbriars, so he knew that she'd not be alone. It was somewhat late for tea when he approached the outskirts of the town, and he stopped at the bakery where he purchased a couple of scones to nibble as he finished the journey to the Hill.

He heard his mother in the kitchen, and went in to find her preparing supper. He smelled potatoes roasting, and ham and new peas. "It smells wonderful, Mama," he said, as he gave her a peck on the cheek. He could tell it was all nearly ready, so he turned to the sideboard and took out the plates to lay the table. "I had lunch with Uncle Bingo and Aunt Chica today. They send their love, as well as some news. Uncle Longo is moving back here."

Belladonna turned and nodded. "And I thought to be the one to tell you that news. Fosco told me that Longo had attempted to purchase Greenbriars from him. Fosco turned him down; the offer was insultingly low. He instead bought Ashcroft."

Bilbo gave a whistle. Ashcroft, which was a very fine hole, was located on the West side of Hobbiton, had been the home of Mr. Burrowes, the lawyer who was the Burrowes in the firm of Messrs. Grubb, Grubb and Burrowes. He had moved to Michel Delving, the better to oversee the filing of records with the Mayor's Office, and the luxurious hole had been empty for three years. It was smaller than both Bag End and Greenbriars, but it was at least as fine a residence as Greenbriars if not quite up to Bag End in terms of status.

"Why is he coming back?" asked Bilbo. "He's never shown much interest in even so much as visiting unless he had to do so."

"According to Fosco, his brother has bought a half-interest in Turpin Sandyman's mill," said Belladonna as she began to place food on the table. "and Lotho feels his presence here is needed as certain changes are made."

Bilbo made a face. The mill had been in the Sandyman family for generations, but it was scarcely turning a profit, mostly due to the fact that Turpin had brought in his cousins to work there. Unfortunately, the cousins were lazy and incompetent; but because they were kin, Sandyman did not need to pay them much. Those savings were offset by the fact that he had more employees than he needed. Bungo had once offered to invest in the mill, and was turned down when he had insisted that Turpin replace his cousins with more efficient workers.

"It might even be worth having Uncle Longo around if he can get the mill to operate more efficiently," he said, as they sat down to eat. He helped himself to a goodly slice of ham.

"Fosco also said that Longo has decided that it is time Otho learns more about the Baggins side of the family. The lad's twenty-two now, and he proposes to send him to the Family Tutor."

Bilbo nearly choked. He took a sip of his tea. "Otho? He wants me to teach Otho?" While it had been some years since Bilbo had seen the young Sackville-Baggins, he had been spoiled and sullen then, and unlikely to be a good scholar. He sighed. "Well, the lad is a Baggins. I suppose I'll have to give it a try; perhaps he's outgrown some of his behaviour."

The doubtful look his mother gave him was not encouraging.

x0x0x0x

*According to Appendix D, "Highday" (Friday) never falls on the first of the month in the Shire calendar; and there is no such month as Summerfilth. So this is basically the Shire equivalent of "when pigs fly".    

Chapter 40: Educating Otho

S.R. 1330

It was not until a week after Bilbo's birthday that the Sackville-Bagginses, as the family had begun calling themselves (though legally speaking, only Otho would be entitled to that name, and even then, not until he came of age) finally moved into Ashcroft, for Longo had ordered extensive renovations. Belladonna was of the opinion that they had waited on purpose in order to miss Bilbo's party; Bilbo was not so certain of that, but it had suited him just as well not to have them there.

He and his mother had, of course, attended the hole-warming, with the appropriate gifts of food for the larder; Belladonna had brought some of her prize-winning pickled cherry tomatoes. All had been civil, and Longo was polite enough considering the condescension in his tone and other than Camellia's constant references to her sister-in-law as "poor, dear Belladonna". Belladonna had managed to keep her temper; years of marriage to Bungo and life in Hobbiton had worn the edges off her Tookish tendency to rash anger. And for the sake of peace Bilbo was only too happy to listen to her ranting as they made their way home afterwards; his mother had an amusing wit when she was being acerbic.

"I can't think what he hopes to accomplish," Bilbo said.

Belladonna laughed. "Ah, Bilbo! He expects his son to be your heir, since you've yet to wed. But I can promise you that your heir looks nothing like that young lout Otho." It was the first time since she had first mentioned it that she had spoken of her dreams, but it was a comfort to them both.

"Well, Otho will be coming to me for tutoring beginning next week. He'll be attending me on Sunday, Trewsday, and Mersday right before Drogo's sessions. Judging by his sullenness I expect him to be difficult." He'd made the schedule that way on purpose, so that he could enjoy working with Drogo afterwards; a bit of jam to take away the bad taste. Drogo loved learning as much as Bilbo had at his age, and was his favorite pupil. He'd never said as much aloud, of course, not even to his mother.

"I'm sure you will do your best, son," she said, as they reached Bag End's front door.

After having a private interview with Otho to determine the state of his knowledge, Bilbo had planned the lad's lessons. Though trying to get him to talk had been like trying to pry a snail from its shell, he had decided on young Otho's strengths and weaknesses. In his understanding of numbers he reminded Bilbo of Mat Lightfoot, who was now doing remarkably well for himself. He thought that perhaps the child was ready for some more advanced mathematics. Otho also knew quite a bit of practical and theoretical husbandry due to his upbringing on a leaf plantation; he would, after all, be heir to the Sackville holdings.

However, he was pitifully ignorant of much of Shire history, and his lack of knowledge of the Baggins side of the family was pathetic. In addition, his writing skills were deplorable; spelling, punctuation and penmanship were all lacking if the sample essay sent by his Sackville tutor was anything to go by.

So he planned to concentrate on genealogy on Sunday and history on Trewsday; he'd incorporate a lot of essays into both subjects in hopes of improving Otho's writing skills, and perhaps as he learned his Family Tree, Bilbo could move away from so much genealogy and add wider subjects for reading and assign some recitations. Mathematics could be on Mersdays, since it seemed to be the one subject the lad seemed to like: a treat at the end of the week.

Sunday morning, Otho arrived, escorted by Ludo Bracegirdle, who worked for Longo. Bracegirdle was more than a servant, he also assisted Longo in business matters, but he clearly was in the role of minding Otho on this day. The Bracegirdles were a prominent family in Hardbottle in the Southfarthing; though the family was on the Roll as one of the Great Families and were still a numerous clan, their fortunes had declined in recent years. Bilbo greeted the hobbit with a handshake, provided him with tea and cakes, and left him to amuse himself in the parlour while Bilbo led the scowling Otho to his study.

Bilbo did his best to maintain a neutral mien and avoid scowling himself as he looked at the young tween. "Is something wrong, Otho?" he asked mildly.

Otho's face grew red with anger. "I am not a faunt to need a nursemaid!" he said.

"Ah! And why did he think that?"

"I didn't want to come," was the reluctant answer. "Papa thought I might skive off my lessons like I did sometimes in the Southfarthing."

Bilbo winced at the crude slang. "Would you have?"

Otho made a scornful snort. "What would be the point? My father would have found out pretty quickly if I didn't show up Ihere/I." The last word was said with a sneer.

"I see. Well, as you are here now, take a seat-" Bilbo indicated the chair next to a small oak table. On the table were paper, ink, quill and a large book with a pale blue cover (the current volume of the Book of Baggins). Otho sat down reluctantly as Bilbo pulled his own chair next to that of his student. "Let us see what you know of your heritage on your father's side. Who was your grandfather?"

"Mungo Baggins."

"And your great-grandfather?"

"Ummm...wasn't his name the same as yours?"

With much effort Bilbo avoided groaning and placing a palm over his face, strong though the urge was. "Not quite," he answered as patiently as he could. "His name was Balbo. You are going to make a family tree. Write "Balbo Baggins" in the middle of the page..."

The two spent nearly an hour working on the Tree, going five generations back from Balbo Baggins and his wife Berylla Boffin, and going forward from him to the current generation. The document was littered with ink splotches and names which had been struck out and rewritten. "Next week you will make a fair copy of this on parchment, so you need to work on your penmanship."

Bilbo went over to the bookshelf and pulled out a small grey volume titled Fallohide: the Founders of the Shire. "You are to read the first half of this before Trewsday; write down any questions you have and bring them and the book with you when you come back."

Otho's scowl, which had vanished while he was actually working on the Family Tree, returned. "Cousin Bardo never gave me homework."

Bilbo mildly replied, "I am not your Cousin Bardo, and I do give homework."

He led the tween back to the parlour where Ludo awaited them. It appeared he had amused himself by reading the Michel Delving Downs, a broadsheet that Bungo had subscribed to. Bilbo kept up the subscription but seldom read it; it was rather boring most of the time, for it mostly consisted of the Mayor's itinerary, a calendar of various Shire festivals and agricultural advice. This particular one also had a discussion of increasing the number of Shirriffs, something that Family Heads would probably vote on at next year's Free Fair during Lithe.

Bilbo looked at Otho. "I will see you on Trewsday. Perhaps you will not need an escort."

Otho wore a dubious look, but had at least enough manners to bow and say, "Yes, Cousin Bilbo."

Ludo also bade Bilbo farewell. Bilbo watched them go down the path with a sigh of relief. It turned into a smile, however, as he saw Drogo approach the gate.

Trewsday was somewhat better; Otho arrived by himself, and only slightly late. He still appeared to be resentful, but he hid it much better. He greeted Bilbo politely and followed him to the study. He was carrying the book in one hand and went straight to his seat at the table, placing the book on it. "I read it all," he said, "not just half." His expression seemed to be smug and yet belligerent at the same time, as if he expected Bilbo to doubt his word.

"Well, Otho, I am pleased to hear it, though somewhat surprised. You did not appear to be happy about having to read it."

"It was more interesting than I thought it would be," he said grudgingly. He looked up. "Cousin Bilbo, do you really believe all that stuff about kings? There aren't any kings!"

"No, there are no kings. But that does not mean that there never were any kings. The existence of King Argeleb II is not in any doubt. The original charter, signed and sealed over thirteen-hundred years ago, is still in existence."

Otho looked at him doubtfully. "Really?"

Bilbo nodded. "It is one of the greatest treasures of the Great Smials, and is kept safely guarded against the dirt, damp, insects and light." He paused to see if his pupil had any more questions, and when it seemed he did not, said "Now you've paper and ink. I would like an essay: no shorter than one page and no longer than three, of your impressions of the book.

The sullen expression was back, but Otho said nothing, and took up his quill to begin writing. Bilbo sat down at his own desk to begin marking some of young Dudo's work. He suffered the long pauses in writing and the frequent loud sighs to pass unrebuked. After all, it was only the second lesson; one couldn't expect miracles. Near the end of the time allotted for the lesson, Otho said, "I'm done." Bilbo got up to go see.

The lad had produced nearly two pages of blotchy and messy writing. Bilbo merely nodded, and said mildly, "You have not been practicing your penmanship. But that is of no matter; you can make a fair copy next Trewsday."

"You mean I'll have to do it all over again?" Otho whined.

"When your penmanship and spelling improve enough, you will only need to do it once, and I will give you parchment to start with." Bilbo took up the essay. "I'll mark your errors." He took another book from the shelf, Early Days in the Westfarthing, "Please read the first chapter. You will not have to write an essay, but you will have to answer questions about it. Now, if you go along to the kitchen, my mother will give you tea and biscuits, to hold you over to elevenses when you get home."

The tween's face brightened at this unexpected treat. "Thank you!" he said, and moved quickly. Bilbo watched him, feeling only slightly more hopeful of his new pupil.

On Mersday, Otho was on time. They spent a few minutes of Bilbo quizzing the tween about what he had read in the history book. Bilbo told him to read two more chapters before next Trewsday. Then he placed a thick book with a worn orange cover and a blue marker in the middle on the table, along with two slates and a stick of chalk.

"Your former teacher wrote that you were quite accomplished with numbers," said Bilbo, "and gave me an idea of where you were."

For the first time Bilbo saw a genuine smile from the lad. "Do you know how to check your own work?"

"Of course I do!" The smile was now tinged with smugness.

Bilbo opened the book to the marked page, which was filled with various types of arithmetic problems. "Shall we see? Use one slate to work as many problems from this page as you can legibly fit onto it. Use the other slate to check your answers. When you are done, tell me and I will look at your work before you erase it and continue. We shall see how far you get before the lessons end."

Otho nodded, and took up his chalk and began. He worked rapidly and with concentration-unlike when he had worked on his essays. In only a few minutes, he called out to Bilbo, who came over to look. The work was much neater than his writing, and every single problem had the correct answer. "Excellent!" Bilbo handed him a soft damp cloth to erase with. "Continue!" They kept on in a like manner until a knock on the study door reminded Bilbo that Drogo and Dudo had arrived for Itheir/I lessons.

Bilbo dismissed Otho with no other homework than to practice his handwriting, for on Sunday he'd be working on his fair copy of the Baggins' Family Tree. "And don't forget to stop by the kitchen for tea and biscuits."

Otho left, giving Drogo a scowling nod as he did so. Bilbo sighed after the lad was out of earshot, and beckoned the other two lads in. Dudo greeted Bilbo with a brief hug and went straight to the bookshelf to take out the book he was assigned to read; at only eighteen he was too young to be trusted with taking it home. Drogo saw Bilbo's expression and said "Don't worry, Cousin Bilbo, it's not your fault-Otho has never liked me."

For the next few weeks, Bilbo began to think he was seeing improvement. Most definitely Otho's work was improving and becoming neater, and he had mastered the Baggins' Family Tree, but he still remained skeptical about the value of history. Bilbo's attempts to get him to read and enjoy tales fell flat. His oft used tactic of pairing one student with another was of no use. At this time, his only students were Drogo, Dudo and Otho, and Otho clearly detested Drogo while Drogo tolerated his cousin with cool disdain. Dudo, of course, was both too young and too frail to be of any help to Otho, even if Otho would have allowed it.

It came to a head one Sunday in early Foreyule. Otho had completed his Family Tree quite neatly, including all of the current generation and going back seven more, even including the Grubbs and the Boffins. Bilbo was considering changing Sundays to botany, which might interest the future heir to a pipeweed plantation. Otho left a little early taking with him a bag of currant scones.

Bilbo was busy looking over the lessons for Drogo and Dudo when he heard a commotion outside, and voices shouting. He looked out his window, and was appalled to see Otho holding the gate to the garden path shut, while little Dudo was screaming at him to let him pass. Drogo was nowhere to be seen. Furious, Bilbo stormed out of Bag End. "Otho Sackville-Baggins, let go of that gate!"

Otho turned, and when he did, the gate at which Dudo had been pushing in vain swung suddenly open, landing Otho on his backside. Belladonna had come out to see what was happening, and she led the now weeping Dudo into the Ismial/I. Bilbo hauled Otho to his feet. The tween glared at him defiantly.

"Otho, I do not allow bullying in my pupils!"

"It was just a joke," the tween muttered.

"An un-funny and malicious joke," Bilbo replied. With that he took the lad by the back of the collar, and began marching him down the lane; they went straight through Hobbiton, Bilbo's face set and angry, Otho's as red as a beet. They arrived at Ashcroft flushed and sweaty in spite of the cold. Bilbo knocked upon the door, and it was opened by a shocked Camillia. She glared at Bilbo, who simply said "We need to speak with you and Uncle Longo."

She gave a huff and led them in to Longo's study, where he was talking with Ludo Bracegirdle and Turpin Sandyman. He had put Ludo in charge of the mill. Longo was not best pleased to be interrupted. Ludo and Turpin took their leave.

"Now, Bilbo Baggins," said Camellia coldly, "What is this all about? What right do you have to drag our son about like that?"

Bilbo took his hand from Otho's collar, and Otho gave a pitiful look at his mother while ostentatiously running his finger under that collar.

"Oh my poor son!" She glared at Bilbo.

"Peace, Camillia!" Longo spoke sharply; she subsided, but her glare was transferred to her husband. Longo ignored her and fixed his son with a gimlet eye. "What did you do?"

Otho dropped his eyes and muttered "I was just joking around," he muttered.

"He was tormenting young Dudo." Bilbo's voice was firm.

"Go to your room, son. Camillia, I will speak alone with my nephew."

Bilbo was surprised that his uncle was being so reasonable. But at Longo's gesture, he sat in the chair across from him. He told Longo what had happened, and elicited a sigh of resignation.

"I had hoped it would be different here. I fear that Otho has not a scholarly temperament."

"In everything except figures, you are correct."

Longo nodded. "It seems to me that perhaps a break is in order. I will make him Ludo's assistant for a while, and then after having to do a real job of work, he might be more willing to go back to his lessons."

"He must apologize to Dudo before I will take him back."

"Understood."

But it never happened. Two days later, a Quick Post rider arrived from the Great Smials. Thain Isengrim III was very ill. Bilbo and his mother headed off for the Tooklands. They did not return until following the investiture of Fortinbras IV after the turning of the year.

Otho was enjoying his position as Ludo's assistant and had no desire to return to his schooling. Bilbo was both disappointed and relieved.

Chapter 41: A Day in the Life

4 Halimath, S.R. 1332

Bilbo looked up as his mother entered the kitchen. He was nearly finished cooking first breakfast: porridge with dried fruit and honey, toast, and a plate of sliced peaches from the hothouse at the Great Smials. There was, of course, tea. Bilbo poured his mother a cup, refilled his own, and set the food out.

Belladonna spied a stack of letters on the corner of the table. "The post came early today, I see!"

"Yes, he was earlier than usual. We've the both of us letters from Buckland; I've one from Rory and you've one from Aunt Mirabella. I wonder what the Brandybucks have been up to?"

His mother chuckled. "There is no telling with them! But we shall find out soon enough."

They finished eating in an appreciative silence, and then Bilbo rose and collected the dishes. He took the kettle of hot water from the hob to fill the dishpan, and pumped in a bit of cool water to temper it. He recalled how proud his father had been of having a pump in the kitchen! It was quite handy. Belladonna had reached for her sister's letter and begun to read it.

"Good heavens!" she exclaimed.

"Is it bad news?" Bilbo asked with concern.

"To the contrary, although it is most unexpected! Rory and Menegilda have become betrothed!"

"But they are three years short of coming-of-age!" Bilbo exclaimed. "That's most unusual."

"Apparently they managed to convince their fathers it was for the best. But come, see what young Rory has to say in his letter to you!"

Bilbo sat down and picked up the letter, broke the seal and opened it. His eyes scanned his cousin's clear round hand. "Aha!" he laughed. "So that's it!" He passed it over to his mother to read:

"29 Wedmath, S.R. 1332
Brandy Hall
Buckland

Dear Bilbo,

I'm sure my mum's writing to your mum, but I wanted to let you know myself. Gilda and I are officially betrothed!

It's been dreadfully tiresome with her off in Overhill and me here in Buckland. We only ever get to see one another when our fathers get together on business. Letters are not the same thing at all!

You know I gave her yellow ribbons on my last birthday, and she gave me the family receipt for her grandmother's famous fig preserves cake.* That should be enough to let anyone know we are serious. Even so, she's had at least two other lads over there who keep sniffing round her, and though she's told both them over and over she's already spoken for, they don't seem to believe it and are being horrible pests.

I know it's not normally considered proper to announce a betrothal this soon. It's still three years till I'm of age, and nearly four till she is. But this way the world will have to believe us, that our intentions won't be changed. I just wish we could go ahead and get married now!

Anyway, I just wanted you to know!

I have to tell you about this. I nearly laughed myself sick the other day. Prim's taken to togging herself up in Dinny's outgrown breeches, as they don't hamper her fun the way skirts do. Well, when Chop's daughter Primrose came to visit (Primmie and Primmie! They've decided they are best friends!) she garbed her up in another pair. Off they go to get into mischief together. So, Primrose decided to teach Primula to climb a tree. Our Prim got up to the second limb and decided she didn't like it up there. She decided to leap down and her braces caught on the limb, and there she hung, head down, swinging in the wind! Saradas rescued her, for Primrose wasn't strong enough. Trees don't bother him; he's very Tookish that way. It's good fortune she wasn't wearing a frock, because her petticoats would have been down around her ears. Amaranth scolded her thoroughly, but Mum just thought it was funny! I'll wager Aunt Belladonna's laughing right now if you are letting her read this! (Hullo, Aunt Bella! Was I right?)" Belladonna's snort of laughter let Bilbo know right where his mother was in her reading.

"Cheeky young Brandybuck," she chuckled.

"Well, I hope everyone at Bag End is well! I'll see you on your birthday!

Love,
Your cousin,

Rory"

Bilbo stood up and kissed his mother on the forehead. "Don't try to do too much, Mama. Mrs. Button will be in to do the cleaning and take the laundry down to the Rumbles. I will see you at second breakfast. I need to finish those lesson plans."

"I'll be fine. Dora is coming to practice her crochet today." Dora no longer took lessons from Bilbo; she thought that she'd learned all that a proper young hobbitess needed to know, at least that Bilbo could teach her. But she still came up with her brothers sometimes and kept Belladonna company and learned various sorts of needlework.

Bilbo usually spent the time between first and second breakfast working on lesson plans. Except for Dudo, his pupils now were all nearly out of their tweens, and as they neared the end of their schooling it was becoming a challenge to hold their interest and to make certain that what he taught them would be useful in their chosen path in life. He had the feeling that Drogo would come to him right up to his majority; Drogo had that scholastic bent that both Bilbo and his father had. Bilbo had every intention that Drogo would one day follow him as the Baggins family tutor. Then there was Uncle Rudigar's nephew Adalbert, who already had professed interest in becoming a tutor for the Bolgers, and most of Bilbo's lessons for him consisted of teaching him to teach. Cousin Posco, who would turn thirty on his next birthday, had hopes of apprenticing to a lawyer. But he'd been told he needed to learn more history before old Jago Boffin would accept him. Posco's sister Prisca was only twenty-six, but Bilbo doubted she'd come to him much longer. Her interest was already on the lads.

He finished the plans, and even had time to begin a reply to Rory's letter when a tap on the door let him know his mother had second breakfast ready. When she cracked the door to tell him so, he could smell the aroma of eggs, bacon, scones and fried potatoes with mushrooms wafting through. As they were eating, Mrs. Button arrived at the back door and joined them for a cup of tea and a scone, and then she did the washing up. Dora and Dudo had arrived; Drogo would come later in the day, at the same time Adelbert Bolger would be there. Posco and Prisca did not come until the next day.

Dora, with her needlework basket, joined Belladonna in the parlour, while Bilbo and Dudo went to the study. It was Dudo's day for botany, but he also had been given some sums to do for homework, which Bilbo wished to go over before they began to start on the herb-lore.

"May I see your sums, Dudo?"

The youngster shook his head. "I didn't get them done, Cousin Bilbo. I had a terrible headache last night."

Bilbo did not dispute the excuse. Dudo had always been frail and prone to illness since infancy (being born during the worst of the Fell Winter when his mother was so ill herself, it was no wonder), but it often seemed to him that the child appreciated a ready excuse and that he enjoyed the attention he received when he was sick. Still, all he said was, "Well, it can't be helped; you will need to do them now, before we go on to your plant studies."

Clearly Dudo had not expected this response. He sighed heavily as he sat down at the student's table and took out the paper with his assigned arithmetic.

His pupils joined Bilbo, his mother and Mrs. Button for elevenses, a simple meal of tea, bread and cheese, pickles and fruit. Then they left, and Bilbo was free until after luncheon. When the weather was fine, as it was today, he would often go for a walk before lunch, which was what he planned today. But he got no further than the bench by the front gate; he spotted his friend and cousin Tolo Goodbody, who was strolling along the road.

Tolo waved, and the two sat on the bench. They both brought out pipes and blew a few smoke-rings. Bilbo asked after his wife Columbine and his sons Taro and Togo, who were as yet too young for a tutor, although the lads would probably be coming to him in a few more years. The time passed pleasantly enough, and when Bilbo realized it was near lunchtime, he invited Tolo to join them.

"Ah, no!" he said, "My wife promised me mushroom pie for lunch, and as that's my favourite meal I can scarcely disappoint her!"

Bilbo felt a twinge of envy; he was more than tolerably fond of mushroom pie himself. But the two said farewell at the gate, and Bilbo went back up to Bag End to see what his mother and Mrs. Button had made. He laughed when he opened the door and sniffed the aroma of mushrooms!

After luncheon, Belladonna went to her room to lie down for a while. She had put a seedcake in the oven before luncheon for their tea later on, and Bilbo took it out when it was ready-just before his pupils arrived.

Drogo and Adalbert had come together, as they often did. Adelbert had to pass right by Greenbriars on the way. Bilbo set Drogo to working on his essay on the settling of the Northfarthing, and gave Adelbert some of Dudo's work to mark; since he knew he wanted to teach, it was good practice. The time passed quietly and quickly. Both his students were true scholars and needed little interference from him, though he was there if they needed him.

After they left, Bilbo went to check on his mother. Belladonna was still sleeping, and Bilbo's heart gave a clench as he saw how frail she looked; her once dark chestnut hair was as white and wispy as a cloud now. He shook off his mood and left her to her rest and went to prepare tea. He put the kettle on, sliced the seedcake and made some cucumber sandwiches, and took the tray into the parlour. It was growing cooler, so he laid a fire in the hearth.

His mother soon joined him, and they had a pleasant tea, and then sat companionably, Belladonna reading a book and Bilbo writing letters, including finishing his reply to Rory. As the fire began to die down, Bilbo said "I suppose that it's time for supper, Mama."

She smiled, and put down her book, and they went to the kitchen. A pot of lentil soup had been simmering on the back of the hob, and toasted bread and cheese made a light supper. Afterwards, Belladonna gave Bilbo a kiss on the forehead and bid him good-night.

Bilbo made some dough to put bread on to rise for baking in the morning, did the washing up. Then he went outside for a pipe, a sniff of air, and a late evening stroll around the garden. Above the stars glittered against the purple night, and the Moon was just peeking his face above the far off woods to the east. Down in the village, lights glowed yellow in the round windows, and the smoke of the chimney pots were sprinkled with sparkling red embers. Bilbo stood at his gate for a few minutes, gazing down on the Water, where the Moon's reflection shone back. The Shire, Hobbiton, the Hill, Bag End...this was where he was meant to be, where he would be content to spend the rest of his life. He drew in a deep breath, knocked the ashes from his pipe, stowed it in his pocket, and went back inside, closing the round green door behind him.

Tomorrow would be another good day.    

Author's Note: The first two paragraphs of this chapter are slightly altered from the last two paragraphs of my ficlet, "Belladonna's Gift".)

Chapter 42: A Mother's Work is Finally Done

Highday, 7 Astron, S.R. 1334

On a fine spring day Bilbo entered his mother's room with her morning tea, looking quite smart in the dressing gown she had made him for her last birthday. She was always pleased to see him in it.

It took only one look at the smile on her peaceful face to know that she had left him. Hands trembling, Bilbo set the teacup down on the nearest surface and approached her bed. Tears went unnoticed as he dropped a gentle kiss on top of her head. "Say hello to Papa for me, Mama," he whispered.

He dropped into the chair next to her bed, his head bowed, and wept. He was truly bereft now. The loss of his father had been a dreadful blow, and in this moment he missed him anew, but his mother had been all he had for the last nine years. They had grown so close, and become such good friends and companions. What would he do without her?

And he realised he should have been more prepared for this; for months he had noticed how difficult it had become for her to breathe (much as it had been for his father) and how easily she had tired. But he had ignored what that meant. He had not wanted to admit that he could lose her. She had sometimes tried to talk to him about it, sometimes tried to discuss what to do with this or that thing when she was gone, but he had not wanted to hear it. His heart caught in his throat as he recalled a conversation between his mother and his cousin Dora just a few days ago. Often of late, Belladonna had asked Dora's help with finishing up some of her needlework projects. "Even with my spectacles, my eyes are not what they used to be, and my fingers are not as nimble with the finer details." Dora had been pleased to help her aunt, who had taught her all she knew of needlecraft; it was not something her own mother, Ruby, cared much about. The only sewing Ruby did was the family mending, and she did not knit, crochet or tat.

He had been in the parlour with them reading as they worked on a knitted coverlet together.

"Aunt Bella, we've only this one section to attach, and it will be finished. What should we work on next? We already finished that tablecloth last week, and I don't recall seeing any unfinished smaller projects in your workbasket."

His mother had smiled. "No, my dear, I do believe that with your help I have finished everything I'd left undone. Perhaps you can bring a project of your own the next time you come."

Bilbo had not thought about it then. How blind he'd been not to understand!

How long he sat there he did not know, but he heard a voice at his mother's door. "Mistress Belladonna? Mr. Bilbo?"

It was Mrs. Button. Bilbo had quite forgot about her coming in this morning. He stood up heavily and turned to face her.

She drew back in surprise. "Mr. Bilbo?" Suddenly as she took in his tear-ravaged face, she understood. "Is it the Mistress, then? Did she pass on in the night?"

Bilbo gasped and raised his eyes to her face. "How did you know?"

"She was afraid of something like that, Mr. Bilbo. She spoke of it to me once or twice."

"Oh."

"Mr. Bilbo, does anyone else know yet?" With a gentle tug, she began to draw him away from his mother's door. He resisted, with a glance backwards. "Why don't you come to the kitchen and have a cup of tea. I'll see if Hom is about-he can take messages down to Mr. Fosco in Greenbriars, and to Mistress Sage." Holman Greenhand had taken over as gardener just a few years ago.

Bilbo nodded. He was beginning to come out of his daze; she was right, people needed to know. He took in a deep breath. "Ask him to stop at the Post Office as well; tell them we need two Quick Post riders up at Bag End, one to go to the Great Smials, and one to go to Buckland. I will take my tea in the study."

He entered his study and sat down at his desk, and drew forth a sheet of parchment. Before he could write anything, Mrs. Button came in with a tray, which she placed on the desk near his elbow. "I know as you likely don't have much appetite, Mr. Bilbo, but I brought you some scones and butter to go with your tea. Do try to eat something, sir. You'll be sick if you don't."

"Thank you, Mrs. Button," he said absently. He reached for a scone to mollify her, and when he saw her watching, he took a bite for the same reason. It tasted like ashes. He sipped the tea to wash it down, and then picked up his quill.

"Dear Uncle Isumbras... It was as far as he got. How was it possible to write the words "Your sister, Belladonna, is dead."? He threw the quill down, splattering the parchment, and planted his elbows on the desk and gripped his hair with both hands, grief once more washing over him. He choked down a sob. He had to do this but he could not physically make himself pick up the quill.

There was a tap on the study door and it opened. It was the healer, Mistress Sage. "Mr. Bilbo?"

He looked up at her in confusion; he had not heard anyone at the door. "Mistress Sage? Are you here about Mama?"

"And also about you, Mr. Bilbo. You're too upset to be writing letters; why don't you let me make some nice chamomile and vervaine tea, and then you go have a lie-down?"

"But I must get these ready for the Quick Post. They have to know..."

"We'll take care of that, Bilbo." He looked up to see Cousin Fosco and Drogo and Dora standing at the door. "Now you just do as Mistress Sage says."

"The Thain..." he said, "and Aunt Mirabella and..." his voice trailed off.

"I will do that, Cousin Bilbo," said Dora. Her own eyes were red with weeping, but she spoke calmly enough.

He allowed the healer and Drogo to coax him into his room; Drogo helped him into the bed while Mistress Sage made the promised tea. Drogo sat by him as he drank it down, and remained as he drifted into sleep.

Bilbo wakened in confusion to find it was the middle of the night, and that young Drogo was sitting beside him still, asleep with one hand on his cheek. The sight of his cousin brought the memory of the entire day back to him in a rush: his mother, really and truly gone. Her absence left a gaping hole in his heart.

Drogo startled awake at Bilbo's movement, and Bilbo asked, "What are you doing here, lad?"

"We thought you oughtn't be left alone, Bilbo. Papa had to go home, since our mother's not feeling well, and Dora stayed until Mrs. Button left for the night. She made sure that the letters were sent to Tuckborough and to Buckland, and she also wrote to Cousin Bingo in Overhill, and sent messages to Polo and Longo. Mistress Sage saw to...well, to Aunt Belladonna. She says the funeral must be no later than Trewsday..." Drogo's voice trailed off into a whisper, but to Bilbo he might as well have shouted at the top of his voice: "Your mother's body must be buried!"

Bilbo forced himself not to shout at the lad. He'd only stated what Bilbo already knew. All hobbits knew these practical things, and he had to face it.

The next day brought an invasion of Tooks, who arrived in force: all of Belladonna's surviving siblings and their spouses, and several cousins. Fortinbras came, thankfully leaving Lalia and young Ferumbras at home. Only Siggy and Malva, Aunt Donnamira and Uncle Hugo, and Uncle Isengar and Aunt Citrine stayed at Bag End. The others found rooms with other family connexions, or took rooms at The Ivy Bush or The Green Dragon. Drogo was also remaining at Bag End to be of what help he could for Bilbo. Uncle Bingo and his family were staying at Greenbriars with Fosco's family.

Late the following evening brought the Brandybucks. Only Aunt Mirabella and Uncle Gorbadoc, along with Rory, and their oldest daughter, Amaranth, made the journey, for they did not want to overwhelm Bilbo with the younger ones.

Bilbo was gradually beginning to cope. His relatives, fortunately, did not suffocate him with attention, and most of them had the good manners not to make overzealous displays of their own grief. Bilbo knew they hurt as well, but there was no attempt to impress him with their own sorrow. Thankfully, Uncle Longo had not been to call yet. Bilbo was too grateful for the absence of Sackville-Bagginses to consider the oddness of it.

He was enlightened the morning of the burial. He came into the parlour and overheard a snippet of conversation between Dora and his Took aunts.

"I could not believe my eyes when I got the reply," Dora was saying. "I cannot believe they would be so heartless!"

Donnamira's face was flushed with anger. "It's disgraceful! I cannot think of a poorer excuse!"

Mirabella looked no happier, but she said, "Well, rude and inconsiderate as it may be, I cannot but help being glad we are spared their presence. But poor Bilbo, to be so disrespected!"

Dora gave a start as she noticed Bilbo standing there, and his aunts turned to see him and flushed.

"Who has disrespected me?" he asked mildly, though he had a strong suspicion.

Dora lowered her eyes. "I'd hoped to spare you, Cousin Bilbo, but..." she went over to the desk where a stack of correspondence she had been handling for him and picked up one letter, which she placed in his hand.

"8 Astron
Ashcroft
Hobbiton

Dear Bilbo,

I am so sorry to hear of your mother's passing. Unfortunately, none of us will be able to attend the funeral, as we are to leave for our annual stay in the Southfarthing in a couple of days.

Please accept our condolences. When we return, perhaps the two of us can discuss some Baggins family business, as you will now become the Family Head.

Affectionately,
your uncle,

Longo Sackville-Baggins"

Bilbo's eyebrows climbed up his forehead as he read. This was the barest minimum that courtesy called for, more the sort of letter one might get from a mere acquaintance, rather than from close kin. It was very nearly insulting. He closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath through his nose and let it out very slowly through his mouth. He felt himself flushing, and forced himself to speak as mildly as he could. "I have to say that I must agree with you, Aunt Mira. Considering the display he made at my father's funeral I am quite glad to be spared his company at my mother's." Then he said, "But I will not forget this insult to my mother."

This day atop the Hill was quite different than that day eight years ago. The Sun rode high in her glory and the sky was blue and unclouded. The old oak rooftree was filled with birdsong, and daisies sprinkled the grass. Uncle Isumbras spoke fondly of his little sister, the hoyden who followed her big brothers about, climbing trees and catching frogs; the lively tween who had danced her way into many hearts, but had given her own heart only to one very quiet and seemingly ordinary hobbit. And he spoke of the wisdom of that choice and how two seemingly opposite hobbits had found in one another just what they needed. He spoke of her courage during that dreadful Fell Winter, and of how she had carried on after losing the love of her life. And he told of what a good mother she had been to her only son.

And listening to this tribute to his remarkable mother, Bilbo felt his heart ease. Life would be lonely now, but he knew he'd be able to carry on.

Chapter 43: Lobelia, part 1

Afterlithe, S.R. 1340

Bilbo rose to the sound of Hom Greenhand cheerfully whistling in the front garden. From the angle of the light coming in his window it seemed he was awake just in time for first breakfast. He put on his dressing gown, thinking as he always did when he donned it, of the mother who had made it for him. Belladonna had been gone now for four years, and his father for fourteen; but still he missed them more than he could say. And yet he had a good life, and had grown into his role as Master of the Hill and Head of the Baggins family.

He poured water from his ewer into the wash basin, and washed his face and hands and made his way to the kitchen. He'd left a pot of porridge on the hearth to cook overnight. Lifting the lid to check on it, he gave it a stir. Just right! He moved it to the table, and poked up the embers before adding more wood. Then he put the kettle on, sliced some bread for toasting, and put butter and honey on the table.

He ate a leisurely breakfast while pondering the news in his latest letter from Siggy. His cousin's little daughter Rosamunda was about to have her second birthday, and Siggy and Malva were expecting a new little one sometime in the early fall. Bilbo had decided to send a birthday gift for their little lass. He no longer saw Siggy all that often; since the unfortunate events during his last visit to the Great Smials he was avoiding going there.* Yet he missed Siggy. Perhaps after the birth he could lure his cousin for a visit; surely Bag End would be a quieter place for an infant, and more restful for Malva. He'd consult Dora for her opinion. That decided, he made a plan for the day. It was Highday, so he had no pupils coming. He'd go down to Greenbriars to get Dora's idea of a gift for little Rosamunda, and then go into town to pick up some pipe-weed and stationery. He was also in need of some flour, so he could stop by the Mill as well. He pursed his lips at the thought of how little he liked putting money in Uncle Longo's pocket. Turpin Sandyman had retired, and Ludo Bracegirdle was in charge of the Mill now, and training Turpin's cousin Tassilo to inherit it eventually. But young Otho, who was now nearly of age, was still Ludo's assistant. And of course, a goodly percentage of the profits went to line Uncle Longo's pockets.

But there wasn't much choice of where to get his flour. The closest mill besides Sandyman's was in Frogmorton.

Ah, well! He still had as little to do with his Uncle as possible, but sometimes these things could not be helped. And it was no worse than having to invite him to family functions. Thankfully, he always declined with some excuse or other, as Bilbo did with any invitations he received from the Sackville-Bagginses.

With these thoughts in mind, Bilbo rose and did the washing up and went to get dressed for the day. Soon enough he was making his way down to the other side of the Hill.

Dora answered the door herself. "Good morning, Bilbo! I am afraid Drogo and Dudo are not here today. They are on the way to Budgeford for Uncle Rudigar's birthday." She did not mention her father. Fosco was likely sequestered in his study, as he usually was ever since Ruby's death last year. Dora had remained at home to care for him.

"I know, Dora, for they had explained why Dudo would not be coming for his lessons for a few days. At any rate, my dear, I came to speak with you."

Dora looked surprised, but showed him into the parlour. "I will be right back, Cousin Bilbo, with refreshments."

Bilbo nodded, for he had expected as much. It was, after all, nearly time for second breakfast. Bilbo waited, looking about the parlour, not much changed from when he had helped restore the hole almost thirty years ago, though he saw some of Dora's touches: cushions and doilies he could recall seeing her work on at his mother's side. She soon returned with a loaded tray: sausage rolls, boiled eggs, scones and tea.

Dora poured the tea, and they tucked in. Bilbo complimented her on the sausage rolls, and the broached the subject of a gift for little Rosamunda.

Dora only had to think for a moment before suggesting a stuffed animal or doll, and gave Bilbo a name. “Miss Daylily Banks, Mistress Agate's apprentice, makes very clever dolls and animals as a sideline.” (Mistress Agate was a local dressmaker, very much in demand.) With this advice now taken care of the cousins moved on to local gossip. Dora always knew what was going on in the town.

“Have you heard about Hobbiton's newest inhabitant?” asked Dora.

“New inhabitant?”  

“Ludo Bracegirdle's niece, Lobelia. She just turned thirty**, and from what I understand her parents sent her here to get her away from a 'bad influence'.” Dora herself was only thirty-eight now, but she comported herself like someone much older.

“Have you met Miss Bracegirdle?”

“No, though I have seen her in passing.” Dora's tone was neutral, which told Bilbo a lot. If Dora had approved of the young lady her voice would have been much warmer. But she would not say anything unflattering about the newcomer when they'd yet to meet.

“Who told you her parents were worried about a bad influence?”

“Her Aunt Mignonette.” Ludo's Southfarthing wife had been a Hornblower before her marriage, but Dora approved of her for not “putting on airs” and for being a sensible sort.

Bilbo nodded. Dora did not mind passing on gossip, but only when she was sure of the source. He told her news from Rory's latest letter which delighted her: Rory's wife, Dora's old friend Menegilda, had given birth to a sturdy lad, whom they had named Saradoc.

Dora smiled and shook her head. “Those Brandybuck names! So odd and old-fashioned!”

After they exchanged a few more pleasantries, Bilbo excused himself and went on to visit the talented Miss Daylily in search of a gift.

Mistress Agate's cottage was on the outskirts of the main road into Hobbiton. Its stone walls and thatched roof were covered with ivy. The windows had bright yellow shutters, and the door was sky blue, with a painting of a spray of daisies just above the door knob in the middle. Next to the bellpull hung a discreet sign: Mistress Agate Puddifoot, Dressmaker and Seamstress. Bilbo gave a tug on the bellpull and heard a responding tinkle within. After a moment the door cracked open and a pale face peeked shyly out.

It was a lass in her early tweens, perhaps twenty-two or twenty-three. Her big brown eyes grew even bigger as she saw a gentlehobbit upon the doorstep, rather than the usual feminine client.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said in a soft voice barely above a whisper, "but my Mistress is engaged with customers right now."

Bilbo smiled reassuringly. "Actually, I think I have come to see you. You are Miss Daylily Banks, are you not?"

This made her look more alarmed, not less, as she nodded.

"My cousin Dora Baggins recommended you as one who makes dolls and stuffed animals. I need a gift you see."

"Oh! Oh! Sir! I mean...er..." Now she looked excited, but was no more coherent.

Bilbo took pity on her. "Perhaps I could come back later?"

The idea of losing a customer shook her wits out of their daze. "No! I mean, no sir! My Mistress is using the fitting room; we could go into the front room." She stepped back and let Bilbo in.

There was no hall. They came directly into a large room that seemed to be partly a sitting room and partly a workroom. A large table covered with fabrics and the tools of a seamstress' trade dominated the middle of the room. Next to the hearth were two armchairs and a long settee. To the back of the room was an opening that Bilbo could see led to the kitchen, and to the right side were two closed doors leading to other rooms.

"Pray have a seat, sir," the apprentice said. "I'll fetch some tea. Oh, and then you can tell me about the gift you need." She disappeared into the kitchen.

Bilbo shook his head in amusement; she was trying very hard indeed not to be nervous in his presence.

As he waited in one of the armchairs for young Daylily to return, he became aware of voices behind one of the doors. He supposed the indistinct murmurs were those of Mistress Agate and her customers.
 
Suddenly he heard a very shrill and strident voice: "No! It's dreadful! It won't do at all! It makes me look like a child!"
There was some more murmuring, and the voice spoke up again. "I hate it! The neckline is far too high! And this style has been out of fashion in the Southfarthing for years!"

Now another voice could be heard more clearly. "This is not the Southfarthing, Lobelia! You will find the styles here are far more modest--you do not want people around here to think of you as a lightskirt do you?"

"Aunt Mignonette! How dare you?" The shrill voice was near to screeching now.

Well, well, thought Bilbo, so that is Ludo Bracegirdle's niece Lobelia.

The voices now dropped back to normal; Bilbo could hear no more, and Daylily returned with a tea tray, with tea and two cups, and a plate with a few sugar biscuits on it. As he nibbled on a biscuit and sipped his tea, he explained to her about his little cousin Rosamunda who was only two years old.

The two were examining some possible choices from Daylily's wares: a lamb, a kitten, a puppy, and a rabbit. They had decided against a doll, as all of those had button eyes. But the little animals had cunningly embroidered faces. Bilbo was trying to decide between the lamb and the kitten, when the door opened and three hobbitesses came out.

With Mistress Agate and Mignonette Bracegirdle was a lass in her late tweens. She was a handsome enough lass; she might even have been pretty, save that her expression showed a chronic discontent and her bearing was haughty. Bilbo was familiar enough with youthful sulks to understand that she had not had her way about the design of the disfavoured dress.

"Why, Mr. Baggins!" exclaimed the dressmaker. "How may I help you?" It was clear that it was unusual to see a gentlehobbit in her domain.

"I have been helped in a most satisfactory manner by your very clever apprentice," he said, holding up both the lamb and the kitten, "as I came in search of a gift for my cousin's two-year old daughter. I do believe I shall take them both--one for her birthday and one for mine; Miss Daylily, how much do I owe you?"

The apprentice glanced helplessly at her mistress, who smiled and nodded in an encouraging manner. Daylily blushed and said, "Two coppers?"

Bilbo deliberately misunderstood. "Two coppers apiece! Excellent value for such nice work." He took out his purse and glanced within. "Sadly, I seem to have no coppers on me." He handed her a silver penny instead. "Keep the change, my dear! They are quite worth it."

She stammered out her thanks, her eyes wide with astonishment. Bilbo rose and went over to the ladies. "Mrs. Bracegirdle, I have not seen you in quite some time!" He glanced past her shoulder to where young Lobelia stood staring up at the ceiling in an attitude of boredom.

"That is true, Mr. Baggins. We have been quite busy lately. May I present my husband's niece, Lobelia Bracegirdle, who has come to live with us for a while?"

Bilbo made a bow. "Bilbo Baggins at your service, Miss Lobelia," he said insincerely. Privately, he thanked good fortune that she was not a Baggins. She'd be a dreadful scholar, and probably less teachable than even young Otho!

She gave a brief bob of her head. "Atyoursandyourfamily's," she said in a monotone.

Mignonette went red with anger at her niece's rudeness. Clutching the stuffed animals beneath one arm, Bilbo took his farewell and left.

He could not help but feel grateful that he was unlikely to have many future dealings with Miss Lobelia Bracegirdle.

x0x0x0x

 *A reference to my story "The Dwarf Dagger".

** In regards to Lobelia's age: Although JRRT gives us no DOB for Lobelia on the Appendix D Family Trees, he states in LotR that she is ninety-nine when she finally purchases Bag End from Frodo. Since Otho and Lobelia were married when Bilbo returned from Erebor, this cannot be correct, for she would have been far too young at twenty-one to marry. He does give a DOB in Peoples of Middle-earth: 1328. That is even worse, for she would only have been twelve.

My head-canon solution to this dilemma is that she and Otho were born the same year (S.R. 1310) which would have made her 109 at the end. Since many women will shave years off their age as they get older, I've decided that she knocked off that nine years at some point after there was no one left who was old enough to contradict her.

Author's Note: The letter to Mirabella in this chapter originally appeared in my 2005 hobbit_ficathon story, "An Appeal to Family", though I've made a few edits so it would fit better into the story.

Chapter 44: Lobelia, part 2

22 Halimath, S.R. 1340

His fiftieth birthday was going quite well, Bilbo thought. Bag End was filled with family connexions, all of whom were enjoying his hospitality. He'd been very busy playing host, and now was enjoying an ale and conversation with Drogo and Dora before it was time to pass out his birthday gifts and see to the supper. He cast an eye over the room, and then blinked in surprise.

Bilbo's mug stopped halfway to his mouth. "What is she doing here? Moreover, what is he doing here?" This was, after all, a family gathering, by invitation only. "He" was Otho, and had declined the invitation (or, at least, his father had declined on his family's behalf) and "she" was Lobelia Bracegirdle, who had not been invited at all.

Drogo, who had been congratulating his cousin on his fiftieth birthday party, blanched as he looked in their direction. Then he flushed as Lobelia raised a hand and wiggled her fingers at him, smiling across the room. Next to her, Otho Sackville-Baggins scowled at him, and now Drogo flushed with anger. Dora moved to block her brother from their line of sight.

"How rude!" said Dora indignantly. "The sheer nerve of her!"

"I'm afraid it's my fault, Bilbo," said Drogo. "She's been following me about for days. I can't seem to get her to go away and leave me alone!"

Bilbo scowled. "I can't ask them to leave. It would cause a dreadful scandal."

"I'm not sure she'd leave if you did, cousin," Drogo shook his head in resignation.

Bilbo gave a huff. "Well, they will have to make do when I pass out the gifts. Excuse me, please." He made his way to the mathom room. If he did not have gifts for all the guests, invited or not, it would be an even worse scandal than asking them to leave. Bilbo liked to give new gifts most of the time, but they'd have to be satisfied with what he could find, though of course it had to be of value equal to the other gifts he bestowed. He poked around, some of the things bringing back memories that he'd rather not part with. There had to be something...ah! Just the thing for Otho: a silver-plated inkwell. It was rather unattractive, being boxy in shape, rather than pleasingly round, and the base was uneven so that it would rock when used. But it would do. Now about Miss Lobelia Bracegirdle...he looked around some more, and his eye lit upon a large silver serving spoon. It had been relegated to the mathom room because it did not match any of the other spoons his mother had. Just the thing for Miss Lobelia!

x0x0x0x

21 Afteryule, S.R. 1341

"Well, Drogo, you are of age today! It seems hard to realise you are thirty-three!" Bilbo clapped his cousin on the back.

"It's hard for me to realise!" He sighed. "I'm going to miss having an excuse to spend mornings up at Bag End and reading in your study."

"You can always simply come to visit me, cousin."

The Party Field was alight with lanterns and torches and a bonfire to keep the party-goers warm. The celebration was nearly over save for the dancing, and musicians had struck up the music for "Exchanges"*.

"Well, lad, you need to lead off the dance!"

"Will you be dancing, Bilbo?"

"Perhaps I will wait and do some poaching! Go along with you now and find a partner." Bilbo watched as Drogo went off to find their cousin Prisca. Her betrothed, Wil Bolger, had been unable to attend the party. Bilbo watched wistfully; he seldom saw dancing without a pang for the day he'd danced with Pomona. But he tried not to let that keep him from dancing himself. His mother would have urged him on. So he went to lurk near the line of dancers who were forming, to await his turn to "poach" a partner.

The music started as the couples all made their bows to one another. There would be no poaching for at least four measures of music. Bilbo watched as the first couple broke, circled around and took the place of the next couple in the line as everyone moved up a place. The next time the couples broke, the poachers would make their move. But Bilbo would wait another measure. He watched as Falco cut in on Herry Bolger to dance off with Tulip Goodbody, and then he took his own chance to take his Aunt Linda away from Uncle Bodo. But he was soon out again when young Odo came and took away his mother. He found himself on the outside laughing, next to Dora. But his attention was arrested as he saw a dark-haired lass move in to cut Prisca away from Drogo.

"What is she doing here? She wasn't invited!" exclaimed Dora indignantly.

It was most definitely Lobelia Bracegirdle. She had once more crashed a family party. Drogo looked extremely annoyed, his face tight and pale save for his cheeks, red with anger. Dora pursed her lips and moved quickly to rescue her brother at the next measure.

Now it was Lobelia who looked angry. As soon as Drogo and Dora had to move apart to move up a place, Lobelia rushed in, claiming Drogo's arm and rudely bumping Dora as she did so. Dora stepped back, fuming. Bilbo moved up and gave her a look, and then he quickly moved to cut Drogo out, doing it so deftly that it was not until Lobelia took her partner's arm again that she realised he was not Drogo. She glared at him, but he pretended not to notice. Since Drogo stood back and did not rejoin the dance she was forced to finish it with Bilbo.

The music ended with a last bow from all the dancers. "Thank you for the dance, Miss Bracegirdle," Bilbo said politely enough, though he allowed his face to show some triumph.

The music started for another dance, and Lobelia moved to try and intercept Drogo. But others had noticed her attempts, and Dudo intercepted her to dance with him. She watched as Drogo partnered with his Aunt Sapphire Bolger for the stately pavane; there was no "poaching" in that dance, no cutting in allowed.

The rest of the evening, Drogo's cousins and uncles kept Lobelia occupied, while Drogo himself danced away with a procession of aunts and cousins. She was politely penned in by conversation whenever she attempted to move in his direction.

Finally she gave up and slipped away, her back stiff with anger.

x0x0x0x

9 Solmath, S.R. 1341

"What am I going to do, Bilbo? Every time I turn around, there she is. I can't call on friends, I can't go to market! She seems to have decided on me and does not care a whit that I have not decided on her."

Bilbo had gone down to Greenbriars to find out why he had seen nothing of Drogo for several days, and found his cousin skulking in the smial, afraid to put his nose out of the door.

"To make things even worse, I had an encounter with Otho at the mill yesterday when I went to pick up some flour. He backed me up against a wall and told me to stop trying to 'come between' him and Lobelia! I tried to tell him I wasn't interested, but he wouldn't listen and even if he had, he wouldn't believe me!"

"Come up and stay with me at Bag End for a few days, Drogo. It will only give you temporary relief, but perhaps I can come up with an idea that will help."

Drogo had spent a peaceful four days with Bilbo, when there came a knocking on the door. Bilbo got up and looked out the study window.

"Good heavens! It's her!"

Drogo looked thoroughly alarmed. "Bilbo, I don't want to see her."

"Go to your room and I will deal with her."

Drogo nodded and took himself off, and Bilbo rose and went to the front door. He waited a moment to see if she would leave. But the insistent rapping began once more. He opened the door to catch her with her hand upraised in preparation to knock again. "May I help you, Miss Bracegirdle?"

"I wished to speak with Drogo," she said. "I know he's here."

"I am sorry, Miss Bracegirdle, but Drogo is indisposed and not seeing anyone. I will tell him you called. Good day!" He stood back slightly and closed the door firmly in her face. Then he waited a moment and glanced out the window. He saw her stomping down the garden path. Well, he could bear her anger.

x0x0x0x

14 Solmath, S.R. 1341

Bag End

Hobbiton

My Dear Aunt Mirabella,

I am wondering if I can prevail upon you to give me a bit of assistance in the matter of one of my cousins. I know that you have often heard me speak fondly of my cousin Drogo and have met him a few times. He is a very thoughtful and intelligent young hobbit and was one of the first of my Baggins cousins to come to me for tutoring. He was a bright student and his cheerful and jovial personality soon endeared him to me. We have remained close over the years, in spite of the eighteen year difference in our ages.

You may know that his mother was a Bolger, Ruby, a first cousin once removed of old Gundabold Bolger who was wed to Salvia Brandybuck. Sadly, she passed on last year of a wasting illness, and her husband, my cousin Fosco, has been in a decline ever since. He has no longer the heart to pay much mind to his family. They are still young, the youngest has five years yet to his majority, and Drogo himself only came of age right after Yule. They still need the guidance of someone older, but their father is lost in his grief.

The problem that Drogo has is that a lass by the name of Lobelia Bracegirdle has set her cap for him. You know how the Bracegirdles are; they are single-minded when it comes to something they think should be theirs. She has taken to pursuing poor Drogo wherever he goes.

On at least two occasions she has actually barged in on family gatherings, to which, being not even a connection, she was not invited. The lass wields rudeness like a weapon, and I think that in an argument with a dragon she might well come off the better.

Poor Drogo has got to the point where he has been afraid to stick his nose out of his own smial. I invited him to stay with me here at Bag End for a few days, but Hobbiton is a small place, and the Bracegirdle minx soon had word of him, and has come barging up to my door, if you please, with every expectation of welcome.

To complicate matters even further, one of my other cousins, a rather loathsome fellow by the name of Sackville-Baggins ( and that connection should certainly tell you enough about him! ) has an interest of his own in Miss Lobelia. She is comely enough, in spite of a voice that could peel paint, so I suppose it is understandable. And he has had the nerve to threaten poor Drogo for "coming between them".

Alas, a bachelor like myself is simply not equipped to deal with all these youthful antics. I find myself hoping, Aunt Mirabella, that you could kindly do me the favour of inviting Drogo to come visit at Brandy Hall. I am quite sure that Buckland will be far enough away to discourage the Bracegirdle lass, and perhaps once he is out of her sight, she can once again take notice of Otho's attempts to pay court. I think the two of them are admirably suited to one another. Please consider it.

Do answer me soon whether or no you can accommodate young Drogo, for if not, I fear I shall have to appeal to our Tookish connections, and Tookland is not nearly so far away from Miss Lobelia as Buckland.

Please give my best to Gorbadoc and your lovely children. It has only just occurred to me that your youngest, Miss Primula, is now a tweenager. How time does fly!

My fond regards,

Your nephew,

Bilbo

x0x0x0x

2 Rethe, S.R. 1341

The Sun was barely showing her face as Drogo loaded his travelling case into the pony trap they had hired from The Ivy Bush and prepared to set off for Buckland. At least there was no chance of Lobelia being awake so early. He turned to say farewell to Bilbo and Dora, who were there to farewell him.

Dora reached over to pat her brother's arm. "Do be careful, Drogo, especially crossing that River! And do not allow yourself to be taken up by all those wild Brandybucks! With you gone I do not doubt that Miss Lobelia will find someone else to latch onto—I believe she saw you as a challenge. But I think in your absence Otho will find it easier to get her to accept his suit."

Bilbo shook Drogo's hand, and his cousin climbed up on to the seat. "Have a nice long visit, Drogo! Go fishing and check out the library in Brandy Hall and avail yourself of Uncle Gorbadoc's fine table. I shall be there at the end of Astron, and we can journey back together."

Bilbo and Dora stood and watched as the trap drove off. Then Dora smiled. "I believe I shall call upon Ludo and Mignonette today. I should quite like to see Lobelia's face when she learns her prey has escaped!"

They caught one another's eyes and laughed at the thought.

x0x0x0x

*"Exchanges" is my Shire-name for a real English Country Dance called "Hole-in-the-Wall"; it is popular in the Society for Creative Anachronism, where the practice of poaching during this particular dance is customary.

Author's Note: The last line in this chapter is quoted from The Hobbit, Chapter I, "An Unexpected Party".

Chapter 45: The Green Door

19 Astron, S.R. 1341

A few days of spring rain had kept Bilbo in for a while, but today the Sun was showing her face against a brilliant sapphire sky, luring him out after first breakfast. He decided to take a stroll down to the Post Office. He had a letter for Siggy, and another for Drogo in Buckland. He donned his jacket, tucked the letters into his breast pocket and stepped out the front door.

The rain followed by the sunshine had brought everything into full bloom. Bilbo stopped on the garden path to turn and look back at Bag End, at the magnificent display of spring flowers against the smial. In the herbaceous borders along the path, allysum, bachelor buttons, pinks, forget-me-nots, asters and lady's mantle led up to the flower beds. Against the wall and beneath the windows the beds were a riot of colour; in the background were hollyhocks as tall as Bilbo himself, and there were larkspurs and foxgloves and snapdragons. The bulbs were not spent, and tulips, irises, daffodils, hyacinths and lilies-of-the-valley filled out the beds. It was breath-taking. And yet...

He looked at Hom Greenhand who had stopped his pruning, and now stood beside him surveying his handiwork. Bilbo was about to congratulate him on work well done, when the gardener frowned.

"Master Holman," ventured Bilbo, "something is not quite right. But I can't put my finger on it."

"It's t' door Mr. Bilbo. Used to be it were a lot greener."

That was it. Against the brilliant colors of the flowers, the green door of Bag End appeared downright shabby. Even the brightness of the shiny brass door knob only made the colour seem more faded.

"That's it, of course! How long has it been since it was last painted?"

"I think t'was the spring the year afore the Mistress passed on, bless her." Holman nodded. "It's time and more than time it were painted again. I'll see to it as soon as may be. But I think as we're out of the green powder for the mixing of the paint. We'll have to send off for some."

"Send off for it?" asked Bilbo.

"Comes from Michel Delving way, that big shop o' the Brownlock family."

"I'm off to the Post Office this morning anyway. I'll post an order to Brownlock's, and we should have it in three or four days."

Holman nodded. "I'll ask the cheesemonger to save us a quart o' curdled milk. There's already a sack o' slaked lime up in t' garden shed." The most common paint in the Shire was milk paint, mixed up by the hobbits who used it as they needed it. Some of the pigments were common earths or plant dyes that could be easily produced, but some colours, including the rich green pigment needed for Bag End's front door had to be purchased, for it was produced from some sort of mysterious process and was imported to the Shire from the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains.*

Both master and gardener now satisfied that the one flaw in the face Bag End presented to the world would soon be fixed, Bilbo went on his way, whistling a merry tune.

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23 Astron, S.R. 1341

The parcel containing the jar of green pigment was delivered on Sunday morning, and Holman sent his apprentice, young Hamfast Gamgee down to the village cheese-monger to fetch a quart of the curdled milk they had ordered. While Ham was gone on his errand, Holman fetched the sack of slaked lime he used to occasionally dress the lawn or garden.

Bilbo knew that the painting of the door was to happen that day. At this time he only had three remaining pupils: Dudo, who was now thirty, and the Goodbody lads, Taro (who was nearly twenty) and Togo (who was a year and a half younger than his brother). He had all three together for arithmetic on Mondays between second breakfast and elevenses. Dudo, of course, was far beyond the younger ones; but he mostly worked by himself or occasionally helped Bilbo with the others.

"Would you lads like to take elevenses with me today?" Bilbo asked them. He would sometimes do that as a reward if they'd had a particularly good lesson, though today he had other motives. All eagerly agreed.

"I thought afterwards we could all watch Master Holman paint the door," he said. He'd asked the gardener ahead of time, telling him he thought it would be educational for them. Though Hom had muttered something about "why gentlehobbits'd have a need to paint doors", he'd agreed without much convincing.

That morning after first breakfast, Bilbo had baked a large batch of dried cherry scones, and made a few radish-and-butter sandwiches which he left in the larder under a damp towel. He ate two of the scones for second breakfast along with his eggs and sausages, and put the others away for elevenses.

His foresight paid off. He led the lads to the kitchen and Dudo put the teakettle on while Bilbo went in the larder and fetched out the scones, the sandwiches, the butter, and a jar of Aunt Linda's cherry preserves.

Bilbo ate his share quietly, as he watched the lads tear through the food until there was not so much as a crumb left. Watching tweenagers eat did not leave much room for conversation, but finally they slowed down. Dudo politely offered to do the washing up, but Bilbo shook his head. "Thank you, Dudo, but it's not necessary. I will do it later when I come in to prepare my luncheon."

They all trooped outside, where the gardener and his apprentice had everything prepared. There were two tin buckets: one with the curdled milk and one with water for cleaning up with. There was a sack of lime, and on the ground was a cloth where two paintbrushes lay, along with several rags. There was also a piece of board which had been left over from repairing the garden shed. The onlookers stayed out of the way and watched as Master Holman stirred the lime into the milk, and then took the jar of green pigment from his pocket and began to stir some of it into the mixture. While he was doing this Ham was wrapping strips of rag around the doorknob to protect it from the paint.

Hom took up a brush and painted a small section of the board, and submitted it to Bilbo for approval.

"Still too light, I fear," said Bilbo.

In went more pigment. The second time they tested the colour, Bilbo pronounced it "just right".

Holman did the cutting in around the hinges and the doorknob and the edges, and then while he painted the upper reaches, Hamfast painted the lower. It seemed no time at all until they finished. "We'll let it dry and put on another coat in a couple o' hours, Mr. Bilbo. That'll use up the rest o' the paint, as it won't keep."

His students all bid Bilbo farewell. They were to have a month's holiday, as Bilbo was planning his visit to Buckland and would be gone for at least three weeks. They thanked him for elevenses, and assured the gardeners it had been interesting to watch. As they walked off, Bilbo chuckled as he overheard Taro and Togo plotting to convince their parents to let them paint their room as they walked away.

Hom placed the old board on top of the paint bucket to protect it while the paint dried, and they put the brushes in the water bucket. He spoke to his apprentice: "We got a bit o' time afore the paint dries. No sense just standing about, Ham. You go tend to thinning those young carrots around back; I'll tend to weeding and a-putting on new mulch around by the lilac bushes."

Bilbo stood with his hands in his pockets, admiring the door, which now looked just right, its rich green colour blending nicely with the bright flowers.

x0x0x0x

25 Astron, S.R. 1341

Bilbo wakened to birdsong drifting through the window along with the scent of flowers. A throstle was making merry somewhere nearby, and its cheery song helped Bilbo to awaken in a good mood. He hopped out of bed and after making his morning ablutions, he pulled on his dressing gown and padded to the kitchen to put the kettle on for first breakfast.

He had a lot to do if he was to go off visit his Brandybuck relations at the end of the week. This was Hevensday, and he'd be heading off on Highday. Only four days counting today! He had a couple of eggs he'd put into the embers to roast last night and some toast and bacon, and then did the washing up. He wanted Bag End to be fresh and clean when he returned from his brief journey. If he started today he'd be quite finished by the time it came for him to leave.

He'd done with tidying the parlour by the time for second breakfast, and he treated himself to seedcake and fruit and cheese. Then he decided he'd earned a break. Since he'd no students coming to see him, he decided to take the time to enjoy the outdoors and have a smoke.

He fetched one of his favourite pipes. It was a Bounder's pipe carved of cherrywood, and reached nearly to his toes**. He'd received it at Drogo's coming-of-age party and had scarcely had a chance to break it in yet.

He went outside to stand by his newly painted door and have a smoke in the sunshine. What a lovely day it was! He blew some smoke rings into the air, and was watching them float up and away, so he did not see the tall stranger coming up his garden path right away.

One of the Big Folk! he thought, as the figure in grey approached. Did he seem vaguely familiar in his tall pointed blue hat and his silver scarf? Surely not? Why was he coming up to Bag End?

"Good morning!" said Bilbo, and he meant it.

THE END OF BOOK ONE

x0x0x0x

Author's Notes:

*The method of making milk paint is authentic. Milk paint has been widely used for centuries. I also investigated pigments, and discovered that most of the pigments used historically would probably not have been easily available in the Shire, save for some natural earths or plants that would not give a bright colour. Most others were actually poisonous! However, there were two pigments, malachite and viridian which might have been suitable for Bag End's front door, and so I decided that pigments are another of the ubiquitous imports that "my" Shire gets from the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains.

**Since those sorts of pipes are called "churchwarden" pipes in the modern world, I decided to substitute "Bounder" for "churchwarden" as the Shire has no churches.

[I completed this story as a part of the wipbigbang, and the artist assigned to me made me two beautiful large banners, and small chapter banners for each chapter. If you'd like to see her lovely work you can find it here at Banners for Eleventy-One: Too Short a Time by Knowmefirst. ]