CHAPTER 26

Frodo had risen early to prepare a lavish first breakfast for his guests. He had just been in time to greet Legolas, slipping out with the sunrise, as was his habit when sleeping indoors. The Elf would probably not break his own fast until luncheon.

Frodo set the meal out on the sideboard in the dining room, so that guests could help themselves when they arose. Normally, first breakfast was a kitchen meal, but with this many hobbits to feed, the dining room seemed to make more sense.

He decided to go ahead and wake his cousins; they would want to go check on the Men’s encampment as soon as possible. It had been decided to spend three days here in Hobbiton before moving on to Tuckborough, in order to give Eglantine more time to prepare, so they would have set up more than an overnight camp, and Merry and Pippin would want to see that they had everything they needed.

He rapped lightly on the door, and then stuck his head in. It came as a bit of a shock when he saw the bed empty not only of cousins, but of mattress, blankets and pillows as well. Frodo winced. He should have remembered that their childhood beds would no longer fit. Well, it was too late for this visit, but he’d have it set right as quickly as he could.

Pippin sat up from the nest on the floor. “Good morning, Frodo,” he said cheerily, giving Merry an ungentle poke in the shoulder. Merry’s response was to burrow deeper into the blankets.

Frodo smiled. “I just wanted to tell you that first breakfast is ready, and if you don’t get there before Freddy and Gimli, you are likely to find nothing but ‘grass and rainwater.’”

Pippin chuckled at this reminder of Tom Bombadil. Merry stuck his head out of the blanket.

“Do I smell mushroom omelet?” he asked.

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After first breakfast, Gimli took Fredegar out to find Legolas. The Dwarf was amused to hear the young hobbit muttering an Elvish greeting under his breath. Freddy was determined not to make a fool of himself again.

They found Legolas not far from the encampment, communing with the young mallorn tree. Gimli had grown quite used to seeing his friend “talk to trees” by now, but it still was a source of amusement.

“Do not let us interrupt your conversation, Master Elf,” he said gruffly, but with a twinkle in his eye. “Good morning.”

Legolas smiled and put his ear up next to the sapling’s trunk, as though he were listening. “She says ‘good morning’ to you as well, Master Dwarf, and to please keep your hand away from your ax.” He looked at Freddy, who was not sure if the Elf was joking or not. “Good day, Master Fredegar.”

Freddy blushed, and then enunciating very carefully, said “Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion, Ernil i Lasgalen.” He looked a bit anxious, wondering if he had said it correctly.

“Well met, and well spoken,” said the Elf. “But let us not stand on ceremony; it would please me if you would simply call me Legolas.”

“Thank you--Legolas” said the hobbit shyly. “If you would not mind, it would please me if you would call me Freddy.”

Gimli plunked himself down on the ground, and Legolas and Freddy followed suit.

“I had thought it unusual for hobbits to speak other tongues,” said the Elf. “I had not known any except Bilbo and Frodo to do so, though of course, Merry, Pippin and Sam picked up some phrases on their journey.”

Fredegar shook his head. “You are correct, of course. Frodo taught me a few phrases, and before he left the Shire, he gave me one of Bilbo’s books to study from.” Freddy ducked his head, and picked at a bit of grass. “I never thought I would have anyone to speak it to, though.”

“Well, it would please me to converse in my tongue with you from time to time, Freddy. I have heard much about you from your friends, Merry in particular.”

“They are good friends.” Freddy grinned. “I’m glad, because Merry looks in a fair way to become my brother-in-law before too much more time has passed.”

Gimli and Legolas exchanged a grin, with an eyebrow raised. “Now this is not something we had heard from Master Merry,” chuckled the Dwarf.

So Freddy told them a bit about his little sister Estella, and about his family, and began to relax and not feel quite so self-conscious around the Elf. The three chatted for a while; Freddy explained his relationship to Pippin and Frodo. Gimli chuckled, and Fredegar looked puzzled.

“Most other races,” said Legolas, “do not account their genealogies quite so intricately or so thoroughly as do hobbits. Do you remember when I challenged Merry to account Aragorn’s relationship to Elrond and Arwen?” asked the Elf. Gimli laughed. Legolas turned to Freddy, “He asked how many generations were between Elros and Aragorn, and then said ‘Elrond is his sixty-two times great uncle and Arwen is his first cousin sixty-three times removed, of course’ without even blinking. Lord Elrond laughed, said he’d never thought of it before, but that it sounded perfectly correct.”

Fredegar felt a thrill of awe, as what he already knew was brought home to him: Elrond was the twin brother of Elros, the first King of long-vanished Númenor. He had just never truly understood before what weight of years was behind the word “immortal”.

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After second breakfast, Saradoc and Esmerelda decided to walk up to the encampment. Paladin and Pearl were going to the Gaffer’s to tender their invitation to Sam’s sister. They thought if she would agree to go first, it would be easier to prevail on Rose to accept.

“Frodo, are you coming with us?” asked Paladin.

“Yes, I believe I will. I can probably help influence the Gaffer to agree--he will be harder to convince than Marigold--but then, if you are going on to the Cotton’s, I have an errand in Hobbiton at the woodwright’s. Seems that I need longer guest beds.”

Paladin laughed and Pearl giggled. “Yes, my son and my nephew have definitely outgrown their childhood furniture. Old ‘Bullroarer’ had nothing on them!”

Frodo shook his head. “They don’t ever complain of it, but I know it makes them feel a bit out of place sometimes. I don’t regret it at all, though. Aragorn said that the Ent-draughts which caused them to grow also made them better able to heal of sickness and injury as far as he could tell.” Frodo had been shocked to hear the catalog of injuries Pippin had suffered in the Last Battle, yet by the time he had awakened, Pippin was well enough to serve at the feast in Cormallen, though the King had sent his cousin straightaway to bed afterward.

Paladin nodded. It was also something that the healer at Tuckborough had told him--as a child, Pippin had suffered from weak lungs, and often what would have been a mild cold for someone else took a more serious turn for him. Yet Poppy Burrows told him that there was no longer any sign of the old weakness in his son’s lungs; from her questioning, it seemed that credit could be given to those “Ent-draughts”. He no longer doubted the account of walking, talking trees.

“Well,” said Frodo, “shall we head down to Bagshot Row? Pardon me, ‘New Row’.” He still had trouble thinking of it by the new name.

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They found Sam helping the Gaffer with some small tasks in the newly renovated hole. Sam’s father was more than a bit flustered to find the Thain and his daughter at his door.

“Good morning, Master Hamfast,” said the Took politely. “Might we have a word with you, and with your daughter Marigold?”

Sam waited with crossed arms, as his father called his sister in from the kitchen where she had begun to prepare for elevenses. It was going to be interesting to see whether his Gaffer or the Thain were more stubborn.

He knew the Thain’s reputation, but he had grown up with his father’s stubbornness. And he couldn’t imagine that the Gaffer would think it ‘proper’--no, ‘fitting‘ (he’d better not even be thinking that other word) for his daughter to be visiting the gentry at the Great Smials.

Marigold came into the front room, where everyone was sitting rather stiffly. She could not begin to imagine what the Thain of the Shire would be wanting with her, of all things.

“Miss Marigold,” Paladin began gently, “we are on our way back to Tuckborough, and are stealing away your brother again. It is in my mind that perhaps you and his betrothed, Miss Rose Cotton, might join us for the time of his visit there. You know, we quite need him right now to help with this matter of the King’s Men, but we know that there is also a wedding coming soon, that needs to be planned. Perhaps if you and Miss Rose are there, he can fulfill both his obligations.”

Marigold’s big brown eyes grew wide. She looked at Sam, who smiled encouragingly, and then at the Gaffer, who wore his customary scowl.

“What, me go stay with Tooks and all?”

Pearl gave her a friendly smile. “Well, it would make it much more proper, you see, for Miss Rose to come if you came with her.”

Ah, clever Pearl, thought Frodo. How did she know to use the Gaffer’s favorite word? Sam caught his master’s eye and raised an eyebrow. Frodo suppressed a chuckle.

Marigold looked at the Gaffer hopefully. It really would be wonderful to go and stay with the Tooks along with her dear friend Rose, but she just couldn’t if her father said ‘no’.

Sam spoke up. “You know, Daisy could come over to check on you, Gaffer, and you could take some of your meals with her.”

“You make no never mind about me, son. You’ll do what you have to, whatever happens--but I’m not so sure if it’s the thing for your sister.” He glanced at his youngest daughter, the light fading in her eyes as he spoke. “But Miss Took there has a point. If Marigold don’t go, I don’t see as how your Rosie can. But mind you, lass, don’t you go puttin’ on no airs or thinking as how you’re better than you ought to be.”

Marigold’s face shone. “Oh, thank you!”

Paladin spoke up once more. “I certainly do appreciate this, Master Hamfast. We will take every good care of your lass. We will be leaving in three days, so you have plenty of time to prepare.” He looked at Sam. “Master Samwise, would you care to come with us to the Cotton’s, so that we may tender our invitation to your betrothed?”

Sam grinned. Any reason to see his Rosie was a good one, but this was a better one than most.

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* There is no exact account of the generations from Elros to Aragorn. However, according to Appendix A, there were 4 generations from Elros to Tar-Elendil, whose daughter Silmariën became the ancestor of Elendil, and there were 41 generations from Elendil to Aragorn (including Aragorn). Between Silmariën’s brother Tar-Meneldur and Ar-Pharazon, there are, if I counted correctly 16 generations, so I am assuming a one-for-one correlation between her line and her brother’s, which gave me a total of 61 generations altogether. If anyone knows a more accurate way to figure the relationship, or has better information on Aragorn’s ancestry, then let me know, and I will be glad to change it. Thank you.

Thanks to Aravorn82 at rec.arts.books.tolkien, I am now able to account this more accurately.  Here is the information as it was posted:

" This can actually be determined exactly, due to a quote from
Unfinished Tales. In the Silmarillion, Earendur is named as the lord
of Andunie whose sister Lindorie was the grandmother of Tar-Palantir
and great grandmother of Ar-Pharazon. In UT, Earendur is said to be
the fifteenth lord. Somewhere else in UT, Numendil, the father of
Amandil, is said to be his grandson. This makes Amandil the 18th and
last lord.

Therefore

Elros to Silmarien = 5 Generations
Valandil to Amandil= 18 Generations
Elendil to Aragorn = 41 Generations

=> Elros to Elessar = 64 Generations

Arwen is Aragorn's 1st Cousin, albeit 63 times removed."