Clearing the Heir, Part 2

This story continues the story presented in Chapters 1 to 4 of Clearing the Heir.

*** 

Brief synopsis of Part 1:

Just before Yule, Otho, Lotho and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins pay a call to Bag End, armed with papers for Bilbo to sign to officially declare Otho his heir. Lobelia’s intention to stop over at Bag End and take inventory of the smial’s contents over Yuletide is interrupted by the arrival of an urgent message: Paladin Took, travelling through Bywater on his way with his family to Brandy Hall for Yule, has collapsed with a high fever. Would Bilbo, as a bachelor with no young children or other family who’d be put in danger by his charity, be willing to offer Paladin and his little family shelter until the good farmer might recover enough to travel? (Assuming he did not die of the fever, that is.)

Of course Bilbo generously opens his home to his Tookish cousin’s family and finds himself minding three young lasses whilst Eglantine nurses her husband in Bilbo’s best guest room.

Best of all, Lobelia changes her mind about spending Yule at Bag End in the presence of a potentially deadly fever. She departs, taking Otho and Lotho with her but promising to return soon.

With Eglantine’s diligent care, the local healer’s efforts and Bilbo’s help, Paladin manages to fight off the fever. His recovery is both good and bad news, for Bilbo is quite sure that Lobelia will doubtless descend once again upon Bag End when the Tooks depart, whether they return to Whitwell or go on to Brandy Hall which was their intended destination before the fever struck.

*** 

From Chapter the Fourth: In which Bilbo discovers that Young Hobbits are to be Heard as well as Seen, has a Serious Discussion, and finds a Solution to a Problem.

They took tea all together, around the bed where Paladin sat propped up, and a merry occasion it was indeed. Of course, afterwards, Paladin was ready to sleep again, and after a time of story-telling, followed by a light supper, it was time to tuck the little ones into their bed once more. This time Eglantine was happy to do the honours, while Bilbo sat with his recovering cousin. 

‘I cannot thank you enough for taking us in,’ Paladin said. ‘I don’t know what we would have done if...’ 

‘I cautioned your wife about borrowing trouble, earlier,’ Bilbo said. ‘I might say the same to you.’ 

‘How can I ever repay you?’ the farmer persisted. 

‘We can talk about that later,’ Bilbo said. ‘Now tell me what you were doing, driving to Buckland while seriously ill?’ 

‘I didn’t think it was all that serious,’ Paladin said. ‘I cannot remember the last time I was ill. O aye, I had a headache, like as if one of the ponies had kicked me unawares, but... that was no reason... We always spend Yule at Brandy Hall, always. I promised my sister Ally we would, back when she was due to marry and be taken away to the Wilds of Buckland, away from her home and all her kin and all she loved, save that Brandybuck who’d stolen her heart away. She was in tears, I’ll tell you, the day before the wedding. “I cannot, Dinny, I cannot,” she sobbed. “Then don’t,” I says, for I’m a practical hobbit if naught else. “But I cannot live, not if it’s without him,” she says, and what am I to say to that? Either way, I’m to lose my sister!’ 

‘So what did you do?’ Bilbo asked. 

‘I promised her, I’d visit faithfully every Yuletide and spend a month in the bargain,’ Paladin said. ‘There’s naught to be done on the farm, that time of year. Harvest’s in, and planting’s yet to start, and if I work at it I can have all the harness repaired and the plough oiled and ready to go on my return.’ 

‘And so you bring a little bit of Tookland with you when you come,’ Bilbo said. He thought of the musical lilt of the Tooks he’d heard in Esmeralda Brandybuck’s voice, and how it grew broader and deeper in the company of her brother, during those Yuletides he’d spent at Brandy Hall. It was true, every time he visited Buckland at Yuletide, Paladin was there with his family. He’d kept his promise. 

‘Aye, a little bit o’ Tookland,’ Paladin said. ‘I’ve never missed a year since her wedding, not one.’ His eyes grew sorrowful as he thought of his promise, to be broken for the first time. 

‘You might not have to miss this year,’ Bilbo said, patting his hand. 

‘Ah, well,’ Paladin said, straightening, and deliberately changed the subject. ‘So, Eglantine told me you had visitors when we arrived.’ 

Bilbo laughed. ‘The Sackville-Bagginses,’ he affirmed. ‘So you see, you’ve already done me a great service, frightening them away with your threat of fever!’ 

Paladin chuckled. ‘The Talk is,’ he said, ‘that Lobelia thinks to be claiming Bag End one of these years, rather sooner than later if she has her way. I’ve even heard Talk that she intends to move in to succour you in your declining years. Did she bring a measuring stick with her, to work out where to put all her furniture?’ 

‘She doesn’t know that I’m planning to rival the Old Took,’ Bilbo said in a conspiratorial tone. ‘Don’t let’s tell her; we’ll let it be a surprise.’ 

Paladin grinned, but the grin faded. ‘Well I know what it is, not to have an heir,’ he said. ‘We’ve tried for years, my love and I, and all but given it up.’ 

‘All but?’ Bilbo said. 

Paladin shook his head. ‘The last one gave her such trouble,’ he said, ‘the healer warned us off having any more. I don’t know who’ll inherit the farm... perhaps I ought to just let Lalia have it. I’ve managed to scrape together enough each year to pay on our debt, but it’s a hard row to hoe. Fortinbras was always fair, but Lalia...’ 

‘Have you talked to Ferumbras?’ Bilbo asked delicately. 

Paladin snorted. ‘That one don’t wipe his...’ he changed, mid-phrase, but Bilbo hid a grin, knowing what he’d avoided saying, ‘...his nose without her permission.’ 

‘I didn’t say I don’t have an heir,’ Bilbo said, for an idea had been growing in his mind at the thought of Buckland. Frodo Baggins. He’s already a Baggins, as it were. How much trouble would it be...?

‘As a matter of fact,’ he said, ‘not to change the subject, but I was thinking of going to Brandy Hall myself for Yule this year. Why, Yuletide has barely begun. If we wrapped you up well and laid you in the back of the waggon with a lantern under the blankets to keep you warm, we could leave first thing! I could drive straight through, and we could be to Brandy Hall before they light the Yule Log...’

*** 

Chapter the Fifth. In which Bilbo practises the Social Niceties with a little Guidance from a Young Hobbit

All of the hobbits sheltering within Bag End’s generous confines went to bed early that night, even that old bachelor Bilbo, who typically kept bachelor’s hours – meaning he didn’t bother to keep to much of a schedule. The hobbits who “did” for him, such as Hamfast Gamgee and Mrs Goodbody, had learnt to work around him or to go ahead with their work in his absence, for the old hobbit was as likely to go off on a whim without a word to anyone as he was to stay up deep into the night watching the stars or writing or reading or drawing his latest map.

Hamfast consulted with Mr Bilbo as needed, but as the old hobbit always agreed with his gardener’s suggestions, it was merely courtesy on Master Gamgee’s part. As for Mrs Goodbody, if the door to Bilbo’s bedroom was closed when she arrived, she knew to turn her attentions to the kitchen and more public parts of the smial, such as scrubbing the stones of the entryway, polishing the brass in the parlour, dusting everything and everywhere save the old Baggins’s study, where she wasn’t welcome even to set foot. Oh, Mr Bilbo had been pleasant enough about it, but he’d also been firm. Since he paid promptly and well, she wasn’t going to go against his plainly stated wishes!

...And if all the bedroom doors were left wide open, and the Sun was shining bright, and the old hobbit was nowhere to be found (or the study door was firmly closed) when she arrived, she knew she had the old hobbit’s leave to throw open the windows (weather permitting), roll up the rugs and have her sons carry them out and beat them well, then wash the windows and floors and wax the furniture while she washed and dried and ironed the curtains and bedding and clothes in the hampers. After one of these day-long efforts, the bedrooms would be fresh and clean and ready and welcoming. The old hobbit was fond of guests, after all.

Mrs Goodbody might neglect her own home on one of those days, but the payment she received more than made up for it. On such days, Mr Bilbo even paid in advance! ...so she could send her youngest down to the Ivy Bush to fetch a meal for all the workers. Accompanied by the homely sound of laundry flapping on the lines, they’d picnic in the Old Orchard before launching into putting the smial back together after taking it apart to clean and scrub and polish.

In any event, everyone – meaning Bilbo and his unexpected guests – went to bed at about the same time as tiny Pervinca, the youngest of the visiting Tooks. As a result, the next morning’s wakening was much pleasanter for all concerned. Little Vinca wakened first, as young ones often do.

The owner of Bag End lay in his bed a few extra moments listening to the littlest lass, whose voice this morning resembled the chirping of a tiny bird. Bilbo considered it a great improvement over the distraught screams and wails of the previous morning. ‘Ma-ma-ma! Da-da-da! Ma-ma-ma! Goo’ mo’ning!’

To be answered by Eglantine’s cooing, ‘Morning-morning, lovie! Hush, now! Don’t waken Cousin Bilbo!’

Bilbo raised his voice as he got up from his bed and slipped on his clothes. ‘No need to worry! I was already awake!’ It was the polite answer even if it was not the most truthful one.

Emerging into the hallway, he encountered Paladin, holding little Vinca in his arms, a broad smile on his face. It was hardly necessary to enquire as to his health, but Bilbo did anyhow, of course. 

‘I’m feeling fine!’

‘I’m glad!’ Bilbo said, and meant it, but added, ‘But you’re not to overdo, young fellow! We don’t want you to bring on a return of the fever!’

‘All’s well that ends better!’ Paladin said stoutly, bouncing little Vinca in his arms until she squealed with delight. ‘The way I’m feeling, that fever’s about as likely to return as the King is.’ 

‘Please, dearie,’ Eglantine said as she emerged from the guest room and rested a pleading hand on her husband’s arm. She leaned closer and whispered so as not to alarm the children, though Bilbo read the words on her lips, ‘You were so very ill... I was so frightened...’

‘Not at all,’ Paladin said, though perhaps the words were meant for little Vinca, for he gently pinched her cheek as he said them.

‘And if you’ll allow me, Bilbo dear,’ Eglantine said, turning to their host and pasting on a bright smile, ‘I’d like to stir up for you a breakfast fit for the haying!’

‘I’d like nothing better,’ Bilbo answered with a bow, knowing the sense of obligation the Tooks were feeling and wishing he could think of a better way to ease their minds and hearts. He then reached and chucked Vinca under the chin. ‘I’d be much obliged, in fact, seeing how this one had to set me straight on eggses and ham just yesterday morning!’ 

Dropping his voice to a conspiratorial tone and raising his hand to shield his mouth as if telling a tremendous secret, he added, ‘Did you know that neither of them should be green? Eggses are brown or white, and ham should be pink! Why, if my chief assistant cook had not stopped me, I might have fried up some winter cabbage leaves instead of the ham I was intending!’

The chief assistant cook chortled in glee. 

Small Pimpernel, the next oldest of Paladin’s daughters, wrinkled her nose at the memory of old Bilbo picking up a cabbage from the kitchen table as he’d bumbled his way through breakfast-making. She’d been quite relieved when Vinca had objected to adding cabbage leaves to the sizzling butter in the frypan and had taken it upon herself (despite Vinca’s having been named chief assistant cook) to inform Bilbo that cabbage leaves were not edible but had altogether another purpose.

Meanwhile, to Bilbo’s secret satisfaction, Paladin and Eglantine seemed to relax, at least a little, at their host’s free and easy attitude.

Probably thought the children would be a nuisance and a bother to an old bachelor like me, he thought to himself. ‘But really, they liven up the old smial in the nicest way!’

‘What’s that?’ Paladin said, startled, and only then did Bilbo realise he’d spoken the latter part of his thought aloud.

‘The children!’ he said. ‘I don’t know when I’ve had such a diverting time! Why, I never realised before the loneliness of the bachelor life.’ He looked around the faces of the three young hobbits gathered with their parents there. ‘D’you suppose I might be able to find one of my own somewhere or other?’

‘You should look under a cabbage leaf!’ Pimpernel said. ‘Instead of trying to cook them, I mean.’

‘Nell!’ Eglantine said with a pretty blush, while Paladin ducked his head and gently bounced little Vinca up and down a few times. ‘But this isn’t getting breakfast on the table!’ she said quickly to change the subject, and to her plainly-speaking middle daughter, she added, ‘Come, Nell! I’ll need a helper in the kitchen whilst Pearl is packing up all you young ones’ baggage again...’

‘There’s a rocking chair by the fire in the kitchen,’ Bilbo said to Paladin, putting a hand to the farmer’s arm to subtly steer him in the right direction. ‘I’m sure my chief assistant cook will enjoy your help with getting the chair to rock properly whilst she directs the kitchen activities.’ To his eyes, the farmer was not standing as straight as he had when he’d declared himself fully recovered. Sitting by the warm hearth and keeping little Vinca occupied should be a properly quiet and restful occupation for the fellow.

‘In the meantime,’ Bilbo said, guiding Paladin in the direction of the kitchen and then releasing him, ‘I’ll just throw a few things into a bag so I’m all ready to go with you once breakfast is done.’

‘O’ course,’ Paladin said, sounding a little dazed. Yes, Bilbo thought, the fellow would need to rest frequently over the next day or three if he wanted to recover thoroughly from that violent fever.

By the time he finished packing the necessities, including a goodly number of pocket-handkerchiefs, and strapping up his pack, a plethora of good smells were wafting from the kitchen.

As he entered the hallway from the bedroom, he saw Pearl emerge from the guest room where the children had slept. ‘Good morning, Uncle Bilbo,’ she said in a tentative tone.

He proffered a sweeping bow. ‘Good morning, my lady Pearl!’ he said.

To Bilbo’s surprise, the child looked confused or even a little concerned about the grand mode of address he’d employed. Perhaps Paladin, in choosing to live apart from the grand society of the Great Smials Tooks under Mistress Lalia, did not like his daughters to put on airs.

Bilbo’s supposition grew stronger at hearing her response. ‘I’m just Pearl.’

‘Very well,’ Bilbo said, affecting a solemn tone. ‘Pardon my error. I am woefully out of practice when it comes to offering good mornings to people. Let us begin again, properly this time.’ He theatrically wiped his brow, stood straighter and cleared his throat. ‘Good morning, Just Pearl.’

She giggled – a delightful sound – and blushed. Putting out her hand to the old hobbit, she said, ‘Please call me Pearl.’ With a shy smile, she added, ‘You could even call me Pearlie, as my da does.’

‘I should be honoured to do so,’ Bilbo intoned, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Letting go, he offered her his arm. ‘May I escort you to breakfast, Miss, er, Pearlie?’

With endearing dignity for such a young child, Pearl dipped her chin in regal assent and slipped her small, soft hand into the crook of his elbow. ‘Lead on, kind Sir,’ she said, and he had the feeling she was quoting from a children’s book he dimly remembered reading a long time ago. She giggled again, and added, ‘I mean, Uncle Bilbo.’

So Paladin read tales of errantry to his children, did he? At the thought, a kindred feeling sprang up in Bilbo’s heart. He definitely wanted to get to know this branch of the Took family better.

*** 

Chapter the Sixth. In which a Young Hobbit promises to save Bilbo from himself

The most difficult part of their departure had not been persuading Paladin of the wisdom of lying down, well-bundled, in the shelter Bilbo had formed for him in the bed of the waggon. He’d propped up blankets using four tall stools he’d borrowed from the Green Dragon and securely fastened oilcloths over all. He’d secured a lantern under each stool, lit the wicks and watched over them burning for a good half hour before he was satisfied that the stools were tall enough to prevent the heat rising from the top of the lanterns from setting their seats – or the blankets covering them – afire.

‘Balin could not have contrived something better, Bilbo old lad,’ he muttered to himself at last. He was rather proud of his invention. He’d been fascinated in his youth by tinkers’ vans, which were basically waggons with walls and a roof. In a country where most of the dwellings were delvings, a house that could be driven from place to place was a novelty.

‘Who’s Balin?’ young Pimpernel Took piped up at his side. And so, while carrying the Tooks’ baggage out to the waggon and tucking it away in the corners of the shelter he'd constructed, Bilbo found himself telling more stories of his journey to the Lonely Mountain with the Dwarves. Though she was too small to help with the carrying, Nell was a keen listener, making the storytelling all the more enjoyable.

The pavilions hired by wealthy hobbits for grand occasions had also drawn Bilbo’s interest. These large canvas structures had flaps that could be raised to let the breezes through in warm weather or, alternatively, could be enclosed and warmed with braziers if the weather turned rainy or chilly. Again, Bilbo had been struck by the contrast between these temporary shelters, looking like giant birds perched in a meadow and likely to take wing at any time, and the walls made of solid rock (or wood, in some cases) that enclosed the smials typically found in the Shire. Nell seemed fascinated by his descriptions, for she asked many questions that became ever more detailed, ending with, ‘But what makes Bag End different?’

And so Bilbo explained, wondering when his young helper would lose interest and wander away, perhaps to the kitchen in search of a biscuit.

Bag End had unusually large rooms and high ceilings (quite convenient, considering the height of some of the folk who visited on occasion), for Bungo had spared no expense (and his wife-to-be, after an argument with her father, had thrust her inheritance into his hands and insisted he spend it freely) in building the smial. Bungo’s beloved, Belladonna, had grown up in the Great Smials, one of the grandest holes in the Shire, equalled perhaps only by Brandy Hall in Buckland (for size) and Budge Manse in Bridgefields (for elegance). Why, the Great Smials’ great room, the largest in the land, was large enough to accommodate all of the resident Tooks at once, plus distinguished guests, for a banquet or celebration or solemn convocation! (Though they might have to tuck in their elbows to fit, Bilbo thought to himself rather irreverently.)

Bungo had not wanted his bride to feel cramped in her new home, and so all he’d built had been on a grand scale, with taller than average ceilings and large, airy rooms. He had no ambitions to turn Bag End into a grand hole; his goal was a habitation that would comfort his bride with familiar spaciousness yet accommodate the hobbits of a single Shire family rather than dozens or even hundreds. 

In addition, because Belladonna had a horror of closed-in places, her husband had carefully chosen a building site with a southern exposure. All along Bag End’s southern face, he’d included large windows to create sun-drenched rooms and contrived awnings that could be hung over the windows for shade in the summertime without sacrificing light and air.

‘Bag End on wheels, now there’s an interesting idea,’ Bilbo murmured, rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands in his pockets.

His small shadow, young Nell Took, said eagerly, ‘Are you going to put all of Bag End on our waggon?’ She’d continued to follow him everywhere as he’d converted her family’s waggon into a pavilion-of-sorts on wheels and then filled it with baggage and supplies for the journey to Buckland, peppering him with an unending stream of questions. ‘But that would take magic! Is your Wizard coming to tea?’

Bilbo bent to address her. ‘No, my Wizard is not coming to tea, sadly enough,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid we must manage it ourselves, just you and I.’

Nell tilted her head to one side in serious consideration. ‘You’ll have to do it, then. I don’t have that kind of magic,’ she said at last.

Eyebrows raised, Bilbo said, ‘But you do have some kind of magic?’

Nell nodded. Bilbo waited in vain for more.

After a few breaths, he said, ‘And what kind of magic is it that you have, young hobbit?’

She squinted up at him, squinched her nose, and said, ‘That would be telling!’

Nor had the most difficult part of their departure been creating his pavilion-on-wheels or packing up a bag for himself or making sure all the bedroom doors were propped open for Mrs Goodbody’s attention while he was gone (it would have been pointless to leave her a note with instructions since she’d never learnt to read) or setting Eglantine and Pearl to work making quantities of sandwiches to eat along the way since they would need to drive straight through so as not to miss the festivities at Brandy Hall and cause Paladin to break his longstanding vow to his sister.

No, but the most difficult part of their departure had been convincing Eglantine to leave the washing up. He’d had to argue long and hard with her on that point. ‘I’ll let her know we’re leaving when I drop off the key as we pass through Hobbiton.’

‘But you gave her the Yuledays off!’ Eglantine said, ignoring the oddity of a hobbit locking his door when he went away. On second thought, she’d had her own encounters with the Sackville-Bagginses.

‘And long and hard I had to argue with her to do so!’ Bilbo said. ‘You might have thought I was taking bread out of the mouths of her children... For you see, the more work I make for the Goodbodys, the more coin I must pay them.’ At her stunned expression, he said mildly, ‘But isn’t that the right thing to do?’

‘You don’t simply pay them a set fee for their services?’ Eglantine said, and immediately apologised for having the temerity to tell him his business.

‘But I do,’ Bilbo said. ‘And yet, when I leave extra work for them to do, it seems only right to pay them more on top of the set fee...’

‘I never heard of such a thing,’ Eglantine said, and then apologised again, then looked away. At last, on meeting Bilbo’s questioning gaze once more, she said, ‘I suppose you learnt such things in the Outlands. I beg your pardon, Cousin...’

‘You have it,’ Bilbo said promptly. ‘I did learn it in the Outlands – the Wilds of Buckland, actually. Old Gorbadoc set a generous table. No matter how many visitors might appear on his doorstep, there was always plenty... and on festive occasions and celebrations, he paid his kitchen and serving staff more because he knew he’d made more work for them. And because he appreciated their efforts, they worked even harder.’ He raised a staying hand and added, ‘It’s not that I think the Goodbodys need to work harder for their own good, much less mine, so much as I know they need the coin but will not accept anything they feel they have not earned.’ And now I’m gossiping just as appallingly as a Took of the Great Smials! he thought to himself, his expression darkening. For shame!

Eglantine had the good grace to blush and drop her eyes, for she and Paladin were much the same. After he’d returned from his travels, Bilbo had offered to buy Adalgrim, Paladin’s father, free of his debt to Thain Fortinbras, incurred by Paladin’s grandfather in the wake of a disastrous flood. Fortinbras wasn’t the problem; Mistress Lalia was, for she enjoyed wielding power over those indebted to her husband. 

Nevertheless, despite his family’s reduced circumstances, Adalgrim had his pride. Though he’d made the offer to spite Lalia, Bilbo’s actions had opened a rift that had persisted until Adalgrim’s death.

Bilbo’s intentions to mend the rift now seemed to be hovering at the edge of a disastrous cliff.

And then young Pimpernel spoke. ‘O’ course hobbits ought to be paid for all the work they do!’ she said. ‘Isn’t that the whole reason for working?’

Bilbo smiled down at the questioning face raised towards him. ‘O’ course,’ he echoed. ‘Though, young miss, some hobbits simply work for the pleasure it gives them to do so! My father was one of those.’

‘My da is too,’ the child said confidingly. ‘If he were so rich he didn’t need to work, why, he’d work anyhow!’

‘He would indeed,’ Bilbo confirmed.

‘He loves the farm,’ Eglantine said, almost apologetically.

‘As he should,’ Bilbo said with a firm nod. ‘Why, his grandfather, and his father and uncle, and Paladin himself have taken the land and wrestled it and cosseted it and cared for it until it is one of the finest farms in the Tookland!’ 

‘Why thank you, Cousin,’ Paladin said from the doorway to Bag End. And somehow the threatened breach seemed to diminish to insignificance with Bilbo’s acknowledgement of Paladin’s very real reason for his Tookish pride.

Out of the mouths of babes, he thought. Perhaps the child’s magic lies in her grasp of Truth. But all he said was, ‘Time to load up our smial-on-wheels with hobbits now! The air under the covers has warmed nicely, so take care not to let the cold enter with you as you go inside.’

With a small flurry of excitement and activity, almost all of the Tooks were soon settled under the shelter. Almost all, because young Nell asked for and was granted permission to ride on the waggon seat beside Bilbo, so long as she stayed well bundled up against the icy air. Somehow Eglantine divined that the old hobbit was enjoying the child’s company despite her incessant chatter – or maybe because of it.

And in Bilbo’s mind, the idea of adopting a young hobbit was becoming more of a reality and less of an idle thought as his time with little Nell went on and the child’s bright and curious nature captured his old bachelor’s heart. Truth be told, she reminded him of young Frodo Baggins when the lad had been about her age, some years before his parents had died. Might he actually find a kindred spirit with whom to share his remaining days in such a child? The idea was growing more attractive all the time, and not just for the deterrent value of putting off the Sackville-Bagginses and thwarting Lobelia’s schemes.

Best of all, Eglantine dropped her argument against leaving the washing-up and tidying for Mrs Goodbody and her children.

***