This part references events that take place in “Took Madness” and “Under the Harvest Moon”.

3. A Long Expected Party, Part II

Pippin is 11, Merry 19, Sam 21, Frodo 33 (about 7, 12, 13, and 21 in Man years)
22 Halimath, 1401 SR

The day began well before first breakfast. Pippin woke early, when the sun was still low on the horizon, and he pounced on his peacefully sleeping cousin. “Wake up!” he shouted.

“Mphf,” came the disgruntled reply from within the rumpled sheets. An instant later, Merry was wide awake as well, for the day of The Party had finally arrived.

Soon, they’d be on their way to Hobbiton, to the Party Field. Merry wondered, not for the first time, what kind of presents he would get. Bilbo was known for giving new presents every year and Frodo always gave him something extra special. The food he understood was being catered in from all the bakeries in and around Hobbiton and Bywater. Most of all, he could hardly wait any longer to get there and see his best friend and favorite cousin.

Pippin wondered about these and many other things as well. He was still disappointed that they would not be able to make any fun of their own. No longer would they be sneaking tadpoles into lasses’ hair, or sneaking real pies and replacing them with mud ones, or hiding under tables to tickle unsuspecting feet with quill feathers or letting ants loose to crawl up diners’ legs. By far the hardest sacrifice of them all was they would no longer be stealing any fireworks, for if everything went as planned, they would not be at the party when the light show started.

Merry saw how hard these sacrifices were for his young friend and came to a conclusion. After they saw the dwarves, if there was time, they would still pull their prank on Frodo. This seemed to console Pippin, so Merry thought no more of it.

Truth be told, Merry was rather curious to see what kind of games the working-class children would be playing. Bilbo and Frodo usually only had close family and friends for their birthday parties. This would be the first time that Merry could recall when hobbits, rich and poor, would be attending. And the working-class would be going as equals, not servants. He was eager to meet more of the townsfolk Frodo spent so much of his time with. He knew Gaffer Gamgee and his son Sam, of course, and had met the younger Gamgee daughters a few times, but beyond them he knew no one else.

Eglantine and Esmeralda prepared a large first breakfast, which would have to tide them over until they got to the party. The children bounced excitedly in their seats, though that didn’t slow down their eating in the slightest. As soon as they were finished, the matrons ushered the children outdoors so they could finish their preparations in peace. Tina nodded her head toward her son, who was making a show of walking on top of the fence.

“I found some rather interesting contraband in his wardrobe the other day,” she said to her sister-in-law.

“I heard them say something about dwarves as we rode in,” Esme added. “Bilbo always has such strange visitors about. It’s a wonder they didn’t try to sneak up to get a peek at them earlier.”

“What should we do about it? You know they’ve got something up their sleeves,” Tina said. She could practically hear the wheels turning in her son and nephew’s heads for the last three days, and the way they suddenly stopped whispering whenever an adult entered the room and put on their ‘I didn’t do it’ faces only solidified her suspensions.

“You know,” Esme said, interrupting her sister-in-law’s thoughts, “it occurs to me I haven’t heard Pippin play his fiddle in quite a long time. Has he got much better?”

“Oh, yes, he’s become quite good. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind playing for you. Several of the other children have organized a band for the party, you know? Peregrin can play with them.”

“I’m sure Merry would enjoy the performance as well,” Esme noted casually.

“I’ll go get Pippin and tell him the good news. He’ll be thrilled,” Tina said conspiratorially.

Pippin was not thrilled, but Merry was secretly relieved. This took care of the problem of keeping the impatient youngster out of trouble for the day and freed him to both spend time with Frodo and scope out the area for the best place to unleash their diversion. Ilberic could keep Pippin company until the time for action came. Considering Ilby’s mother would even allow her son near Pippin again. After that incident by the river a year back, Hilda was extra cautious about her child’s safety, especially in the presence of the Thain’s impulsive son.

A long and grueling carriage ride later, they arrived at the party, which was already in full swing. The children spilled out of the carriages and were instantly lost in the crowd, only to be spotted a moment later as they got in line to receive their presents and greet their hosts. Tina and Esme would allow their sons an hour or so of play before reining them in. After all, they would be much easier to handle once they spent some of their energy.  

“Frodo!”

“Merry! Pippin! You’re here!”

The cousins embraced each other in a fierce group hug.

“I thought we’d never get here!” Pippin complained. “Is there still food?” he asked with concern.

Bilbo chuckled to see the three together. Frodo’s friends never failed to cheer him up and the old hobbit had no doubt his heir would be left in good hands after his speech tonight. He turned to his other guests as Frodo reassured a very worried Took.

“Have no fear, Pip,” Frodo laughed. “You won’t be starving at this party, or any other given by a Baggins. In fact, Bilbo made sure there would be so much food not even you could eat it all, Peregrin Took.”

Pippin scoffed at this. “I could too,” he said and headed for the nearest table to prove his point. Pearl shook her head and went after him.

“Pippin, you haven’t got your presents yet!” she called.

By the time she returned with her brother, who had succeeded in stuffing down two chocolate-covered cupcakes in the ten seconds it took her to catch him, the adults had joined the children and were greeting their hosts and receiving their gifts. Pippin tore open his presents, a set of fire crackers and a fishing kit from Bilbo, and from Frodo, a waistcoat with many inner pockets in which to hide things. Merry nodded in approval. That waistcoat would come in handy, as would the items in the fishing kit.

“What did you get?” Pippin asked.

Merry held up his gifts, a set of sparklers and a pocket knife of fine quality from Bilbo and a pocket watch of Frodo’s that Merry had always favored. “Thank you Frodo,” he said, touched by the gift. He knew how much the cherished watch meant to his cousin, who had also received it as a gift, from Merry’s grandfather Rory Brandybuck. Merry wondered if he could get his grandfather to tell him the story behind the watch, as Frodo had always kept extremely close about it.

Frodo finished handing out the rest of his presents, then dismissed himself to spend some time with his best friends. Once they were well out of earshot of the adults, Frodo turned to his cousins with an expectant expression.

“So, what sort of entertainment will you two be providing today?” Frodo asked.

Merry shook his head. “None, I’m afraid. Pippin’s been recruited to play with the band. I was going to check out the games, if there are any.”

Frodo raised his eyebrows in doubt but asked no further questions. He led them around the Party Field, introducing them to the various guests by their name and occupation: Sandyman the miller; Goodheart, Cotton and Fairchild all farmers; Gaffer Gamgee’s eldest sons, Hamson a roper and Halfred, a tile maker; and many others. They were all respectfully polite, bowing low as they said their greetings and stopping their own talk to chat with Frodo and his cousins, commenting on the lovely weather and the delightful food and the wonderful presents. Frodo never kept any of them long, except Halfred who he was quite friendly with. Soon enough, they left behind the various groups of adults and approached the part of the lawn designated for games and dancing.

More introductions were made here, as nearly all the children had found their way to this spot. If Merry had hoped to find less formality among his peers, he was disappointed. Even the children knew their place too well to relax around their betters, even at a birthday party. They came to the last group of children, who instantly stopped playing to bow or curtsy to their host and his friends. All of them, that is, except one.

“And you know Sam already, of course,” Frodo said.

“Hullo Master Merry, Master Pippin sirs!” Sam waved cheerfully from where he stood in the middle of the group, which had been playing tag until Master Baggins and the heirs of Buckland and Tookland had approached.

Merry and Pippin waved back, both of them pleased to finally see a familiar face. Merry had expected distant formality from the young gardener, as had been his treatment since Merry's blunder at the Harvest Moon Dance last year. But Merry did not wonder long at the change, so struck he was with the sudden realization that Sam, who was always so proper and in his place no matter what the circumstances, was actually the most informal of all the hobbits here.

“And you may remember his sisters: Daisy, Marigold and May. And these are the Cottons – Rosie, Tom, Nibs, Jolly and Nick. Everyone, these are my cousins and dearest friends Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took.”

Almost simultaneously, the children replied, “Good afternoon Master Merry. Good day to you Master Pippin.”

Merry just barely contained a sigh at the formalities. Pippin on the other hand barely gave them any thought. Frodo only smiled with a teasing gleam in his eyes. Merry noticed Sam giving him a sympathetic shrug and was grateful when the young gardener waved them into the circle.

“You can join us if you like, sirs. We were only just getting started with this round.”

“Go on, have fun,” Frodo said, nudging them forward. “I’ll join you as soon as I can.” And with that he was gone, headed back to the gate entrance where more guests had arrived.

“Well, come on sirs,” Sam said. “Begging your pardon, but you can’t join the game from out there, and we can’t continue until you join.”

“How do you play?” Merry asked as he and Pippin joined the group. He had been watching them from the corner of his eye as Frodo had led them around and thought he had the basics figured out, if this was anything similar to the tag they played at Brandy Hall.

“Oh, ‘tis simple enough, sir,” Sam explained. “Whoever’s It, which would be Nibs there at the moment, is the one as does the tagging. If he tags you, you become It and he gets to sit down. The last one in who doesn’t get tagged wins.”

“What do they win?” Pippin asked.

“They get to pick the next game. Nibs won the last game, and decided he wanted to play tag again.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Merry said. “We’re in. But you have to promise not to go easy on us.”

A lad about Sam’s age, named Tom, gave them a wicked grin Merry knew only too well. “Oh, we promise.”

“Cross our hearts,” said Nick.

“I should warn you sirs,” Sam said softly to them, “Nibs is fast. And he tends to tackle, no matter how much we try and break him of the habit.”

“How fast can he be?” Pippin said unconcernedly, confident he could outrun any of these children, and outrun them he did.

Merry, to his disappointment, only lasted a couple of rounds before being tagged by Jolly and it took him close to ten minutes before he was finally able to tag Daisy. He sat down exhausted and caught his breath. Merry had always thought himself to be in good shape, but he had to admit he had trouble keeping up with the farmers’ children and was quite grateful to finally be on the sidelines.

He cheered on Pippin, who was still running about with endless energy. As the game wore on, and the players began to slow down, they were tagged out more quickly. At some point, Frodo returned and sat to watch with him as the final two, Nick and Marigold, easily evaded Pippin’s touch. Pip finally resorted to an old trick. He feigned exhaustion, clasping his side, and remained that way for several minutes before he was able to catch Nick off his guard, making Goldie the winner. The Gamgees cheered for their sister and everyone began giving her suggestions for the next game. Pippin came over and sat exhausted in Frodo’s lap.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Frodo warned. “I was sent on a mission. Your mother says you’re to go to the music tent and begin warming up with the band.”

Pippin groaned. “But I’m having fun,” he pouted.

“Come on Pip,” Merry said. “I’ll help direct, and Frodo can show you how to tune a harp.”

“Since when do I know how to tune a harp?” Frodo asked with a laugh.

“Since now.”

“As much I would like to,” Frodo replied, “I have to get back to my guests. I can see a couple of the Banks cousins coming back through for more presents.”

“Now really Frodo,” Merry said lightly. “Will we be getting to spend any time at all with you today?”

“The guests should all be here by dinner,” Frodo said. “Then there’s supper of course…” He trailed off, he features momentarily troubled. Then just as quickly he was smiling again, his eyes twinkling. “There’ll be a cake bigger than any you’ve ever seen, and Bilbo’s got something special planned for his speech. It should be most entertaining. Now, the both of you best get going, and no getting sidetracked. I don’t want Tina and Esme coming after me, demanding to know where you are and why I haven’t done my duty.”

With that, they headed off to one of the tents at the edge of the field where the Took musicians were warming up, and Frodo returned once more to the field entrance. Merry glanced quickly over his shoulder at his departing cousin. There was something Frodo wasn’t telling them and Merry wondered what it could be.  

Eglantine and Esmeralda were impressed with their sons’ stellar behavior. Not a single mishap had occurred all day. Pippin quickly got over his pouting and was soon stealing the show from the other musicians, much to the crowd’s delight. Merry alternated between watching the band and playing with his other cousins or the group of children he had befriended earlier. There were a couple of times Ilby Brandybuck had attempted to speak with Pippin between performances, but either his mother Hilda or his brother Doderic would come and quickly usher him away.

Tina felt a twinge of irritation at this. Really, it wasn’t her son’s fault Ilby had become lost last year. She almost approached Hilda at one point to try to put this silliness to rest, but that was the moment Lobelia Sackville-Baggins arrived, with Otho and Lotho in tow. Hilda was Lobelia’s youngest niece and Lobelia instantly became glued to her side, much to the young lass's dismay. Tina quickly abandoned the idea of approaching Hilda. Trying to talk sense into the fretful lass with Lobelia close at hand would be impossible and not worth the headache.

Dinner came and was soon devoured. Twilight was upon the field and lanterns were lit. The band was taking a break and Pippin instantly found Merry in the crowd. The two began searching for Frodo, who had once again given them the slip after mealtime, during which he had spent most of his time in conversation with their Uncle Merimac. Mac had a passion for boats and so spent much of his time on the River and had many stories to tell.

Esmeralda felt sorry for her son. He had been looking forward to this visit with Frodo for so long, and now the newly come-of-age host was too busy to spare him more than a few minutes. Esme spotted Frodo at the opposite end of the field, helping direct another barrel of ale to the drinks table. Perhaps she would speak with Frodo and offer to hostess for an hour or two. The poor lad did look tired and more than a bit frazzled. He could use a rest. Yet just as she was standing up to go to him, a loud shrill shriek rang through the air from one of the dining tents. Hobbits went running to see what was causing the commotion.

Esme dashed to the tent and found Paladin and Eglantine trying in vain to calm Lobelia, who was flapping about the tent with a tadpole in her hair and, from the way she was squirming and holding her leg, another one up her dress. Several hobbits were standing back watching the spectacle, most of them laughing and not offering any help. Hilda was frantically yelling at Tina to do something. Bilbo came running in and dispersed the crowd as Tina went over and expertly scooped the tadpole out of Lobelia’s hair. But, what to do about the one up her dress?

“Sorry, Lobelia, you’re on your own with that one,” Paladin said, as Hilda began swatting at Lobelia’s legs with a broom. Esme sighed heavily and bravely joined the fray.  

“It worked!” Ilberic called in an ecstatic whisper as he joined Merry and Pippin at the edge of the Party Field. “Even better than we planned. Lobelia came over, all on her own, she didn’t even notice me.”

“What did Lobelia do?” Pippin asked, his face etched with longing. He had so desperately wanted to be the one to place the tadpoles on Lobelia, but then he never would have been able to escape the tent unnoticed.

Ilby dramatically reenacted Lobelia’s discovery of the tadpoles, first the one squirming up her leg, and then the one in her hair that his mother had shakily pointed at when she returned to the table with more ale. He even managed to scrunch up his face in perfect imitation of his detested great-aunt, and soon all three of them were laughing uncontrollably.

“Good job, Ilby,” Pippin said as he wiped a tear from his eye.

Merry caught his breath. “And I’m pretty sure Mother saw us ‘looking’ for Frodo, nowhere near the tent at question. We’re home free. Now, come on, while they’re still distracted.”

They slipped into the shadows and were soon on the lane that led up to Bag End. They kept low and close to the bushes, for they could easily be seen otherwise if anyone on the field should happen to look up. They escaped unnoticed and soon Merry was steering them through the gate and up to the dark and silent smial. Listening carefully, they slowly made their way around Bag End. At the kitchen window there was a light and voices could be heard, laughing and singing.

“Sounds like a party,” Merry whispered. He led them to the back door, which was never locked and they noiselessly slipped inside.

The first thing they noticed was the smell – pork roast and cider and freshly baked bread. The second thing they noticed was the lights – they glowed and flickered in many of the guest rooms as well as the kitchen, but the tunnel itself was dark, as was the front of the smial.

“I think we came in the wrong way,” Pippin whispered.

Merry nodded but led them on. He figured most, if not all, of the dwarves were in the kitchen. They slipped silently down the hall, peeking into what rooms they could. All were vacant of an occupant, but they saw other things – walking sticks, traveling packs, even an axe or two. Ilby spotted a small locked chest at the foot of one bed that Pippin confirmed was not normally there.

“Do you think there’s gold in it?” he asked. His whisper was barely audible but Merry raised a finger to his lips anyway, for they were nearly at the kitchen. They lay down flat on the ground and inched forward until they were able to just barely peek into the kitchen.

There they were, a small band of dwarves, three in all. They were sitting at the table or upon the countertops, eating a private feast of their own making. Their song ended and one of the dwarves sitting on the counter began speaking enthusiastically to the others. And he was speaking Dwarvish! The others responded in the same guttural, clipped language. They were not much taller than the tallest hobbit, but they had beards down to their bellies and wore boots of metal and thick leather tunics. They were eating heartily and drinking deeply, and took no notice of their surroundings. The hobbits inched in a bit further.

Ilby was the one to notice the leader, or who they assumed to be the leader for his tunic alone was red, and a long gold tassel tied together his cream-white cloak, and on his shirt embroidered in golden thread was an emblem of a dragon atop a lonely mountain. He wore on his finger a ring with a clear white gem and his beard was grey. They stared at him for several minutes, in awe of his commanding presence and easy manner. Then Pippin nudged Merry and pointed. One of the dwarves was smoking a pipe!

Merry wasn’t sure how long they spied, but it must have been close to an hour by his reckoning, for all of a sudden a loud boom could be heard outside. The night sky blazed with green and white lights through the kitchen window.

“The fireworks have started!” one of the dwarves exclaimed in the Common Speech.

Beside him, Merry could feel both Ilby and Pippin tense. “The fireworks, Merry,” Pippin said.

“They’re getting up!” Ilby warned. They scooted quickly back into the passageway and hid in the shadows. Thankfully, the dwarves dashed out the kitchen through the far doorway and down the tunnel to the front of the smial.

“Looks like we chose the right way after all,” Merry said, then standing up, he beckoned his cousins to follow him back down the tunnel. They snuck back outside and over the fence. With the dwarves in front, they would have to cut across the hill and come back to the Party Field by the rear, near the serving tents.

Another firework exploded overhead, this one of butterflies in a field of gold and white flowers. They stopped to admire the display, then continued on their way, talking excitedly now of what they had seen and heard. They even tried to imitate the Dwarven speech as best they could as they made their way to the large tent that housed the Party Tree. Supper would be served as soon as the fireworks were over and they all wanted a good place in line.  

Their triumphant mood didn’t last very long however. Their presence, or lack thereof, had not gone unnoticed. Tina spotted them near the tent and escorted Pippin back to the band. Hilda came and whisked Ilby away an instant later, checking him for signs of injury, and before Merry knew it, he found himself left on his own again. He looked about for Frodo, but could not find his friend anywhere.

Most of the day had passed this way, Merry alone and looking for Frodo. As co-host, much of Frodo’s time had been spent greeting guests and seeing to the smooth running of things. The few moments Frodo had found to spare with him had usually passed in silence, as they watched some game being played or Pippin hamming it up for the crowd. Merry found himself spending most of his time with his cousin Berilac and others from Brandy Hall, or with Sam and his friends. Not that he hadn’t had fun or enjoyed being on friendly terms with the young gardener again, but he missed Frodo’s company sorely.

He spotted Frodo now, speaking with Bilbo. The older hobbit seemed to be explaining something urgent and Frodo was listening attentively. Merry sighed and turned his attention back to the fireworks. A giant explosion that sounded like a roar ripped through the sky and a fiery red and gold dragon swooped down over the Party Field before exploding into a burst of scarlet blooms. The crowd cheered frantically and then began moving into the tent.  

An hour later, the crowd was frantic once again, but not with cheering. One hundred and forty two hobbits stood in shocked silence when, before their very eyes, Bilbo Baggins disappeared with a bang and a flash. Then one hundred and forty two hobbits began talking as fast as their tongues could wag and the tent was soon buzzing with gossip and old tales.

Merry looked through the crowd to where Frodo was sitting. His cousin at least didn’t seem surprised and actually seemed to be enjoying the reaction of his various relations. Until several minutes later that is, when an angry Otho Sackville-Baggins demanded to know what was going on and several like-minded hobbits crowded in to hear the answer, effectively blocking Merry’s view of Frodo. The last he saw of his friend, Frodo’s expression had gone from pleased to troubled to distressed.

Merry quickly assessed the situation. Frodo’s earlier melancholy at the play field. If his cousin had been worrying about this moment, that could explain why he had been so elusive all day. He would have been tempted to tell Merry of his worries, and that would have ruined the old hobbit’s surprise. The dwarves at Bag End. They had been packed, ready to depart, traveling cloaks on and walking sticks at the ready. Bilbo’s speech. He had said something about Frodo coming into his inheritance tonight. Then Bilbo disappearing, revealing a secret he had long kept hidden from everyone.

“He’s gone,” Merry muttered to himself. Bilbo had gone and Frodo had known all along and never told him. He looked back through the crowd of angry, pressing hobbits. He couldn’t catch a glimpse of Frodo through it all. He stood to make his way to the front of the pavilion and help his friend with the pressing mob.

“Merry!” Pippin shouted, coming up and tugging at his sleeve.

“What?” Merry asked, irritated at the interruption. He had to get to Frodo.

“Did you see? How did Bilbo do that, Merry?”

“I don’t know, Pip,” he lied.

“Well, how do you think he did it? We need to find out so that we can try it. And do we get to play with Frodo now?”

“Sorry, Pip, but it’s not a good time,” Merry said. The crowd finally broke apart as more ale was poured out for everyone, and Merry noticed with a start that Frodo was no longer at the table, nor anywhere else in the pavilion. He had been given the slip once again. “That’s the last of that,” he said under his breath.

“The last of what?” Pippin asked. “And you promised. I want to prank Frodo now.”

“No Pip,” Merry said in his sternest voice.

“Why not?” Pippin asked, crossing his arms. He had been well-behaved all day and now he wanted to have some fun, especially since Bilbo’s trick had already served to liven up the place. One little prank by them now was bound to go unnoticed.

Merry turned to his young friend and attempted to explain. “Don’t you understand, Pippin? Bilbo’s gone.”

“I know, but he’ll be back and then we can find out how he disappeared.”

“He’s not coming back.”

“What do you mean?” Pippin asked, confused. “Why wouldn’t he come back? It’s his party.”

“Look, Pippin,” Merry said, his patience beginning to run low, “I have to look for Frodo, see how he’s doing. I’ll explain everything later, as soon as I know for certain what’s going on. You stay here.”

“But – ” he began to protest, but Merry was already gone.

Merry pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the gossip about Mad Baggins that could be heard all around. Merry gritted his teeth at the hated nickname but didn’t stop to defend the old hobbit. There were more pressing matters to be dealt with.

By the time he got outside, Frodo was nowhere in sight. The hobbits outside the tent were beginning to notice the ruckus within the pavilion and were wondering what the uproar was about. It wouldn’t be long before word of Bilbo’s trick got out to them, but for the time all was calm and Merry took advantage. He quickly surveyed the surrounding field. No Frodo, but he did spot Sam just a few tables down, struggling with an icing-covered Nibs.

“Sam!” Merry called and went running over to the table. “Have you seen Frodo?”

Sam looked up from his task. “Mr. Frodo just came through about ten minutes ago, sir.”

“Ten minutes!” Where had the time gone? “Which way did he go?”

“I didn’t see sir. If there’s anything you need, I can get it for you Master Merry,” Sam offered.

“I need to find Frodo. I think Bilbo may have left the Shire for good, Sam,” Merry said. “I want to make sure Frodo’s all right… That he’s still here.”

Sam became worried at this. He scanned the field quickly. “Rosie!” he called as the young Cotton lass came by. “Take Nibs for me. I’m going to help Master Merry look for Mr. Frodo.” Once relieved of his charge, Sam turned back to Merry. “Well, sir, the way I see it, Mr. Bilbo can’t leave the Shire with naught but the clothes on his back, and he’s got guests to collect. We’d best make our way up to Bag End.”

Merry eyed the gardener closely. None of this seemed to be surprising Sam very much and Merry wondered just how much he knew. “Have you met the dwarves, Sam?”

“Oh aye, sir,” Sam answered, his face lighting up. “The strangest folk you ever could meet, with lots of strange tales and songs, and clothes and whatnot. They even cooked us dinner one night, and that’s not a night I’ll soon be forgetting! And they can smoke to put a hobbit to shame. But they sure are funny, sir, and they have them some mighty grand songs.”

Merry didn’t know how to respond to this, but for the first time in his life he wished he were a gardener. Sam must have been conversing with the dwarves every day for these last three weeks, and from the sound of things, he seemed to know quite a lot more of what was going on than Merry had been able to piece together, though he did seem every bit as concerned about Frodo as Merry was. Merry would have asked more questions, but time was wasting. They split up and made their way through the field, checking every conceivable place that Frodo could be, all the while making their way towards Bag End.  

For the second time that night, the smial rose up before Merry, dark and silent. Merry stood looking at it, wondering what he would find inside. He and Sam went up to the door and Merry pushed it open effortlessly. He stepped inside. The tunnel was completely dark. No longer were there any lights shining out of doorways or in the kitchen.

“I guess we should split up again,” Merry said. “I’ll search in here, you search outside. We’ll meet up at the back of the smial. He’ll be here somewhere,” Merry said, as confidently as he could. Then he turned left into the parlor, leaving Sam at the door.

Sam watched him enter the smial, then turned back down the garden path and made his way around back to the elm tree. Finding the reading bench there empty, he continued farther up the path, to the tree atop the smial overlooking Hobbiton. He heard the snuffling before he could make out the slumped-over figure of his forlorn master.

“Mr. Frodo,” he said with concern. He sat next to Frodo and wiped at the tears upon his master's with a handkerchief. He noticed then that Frodo was shivering. “You should have worn your cloak sir, it’s cold up here.” Without another thought, he removed his patched-up wool jacket and draped it about Frodo’s shoulders. Frodo made no response, so Sam pressed on, trying to fill the heavy, silent air. “I didn’t really think he’d leave,” he said.

Despite Merry’s suspicions, Sam hadn’t been in the know regarding Bilbo’s plans, or anything else, but the gardener was of a quiet nature and had a knack for going unnoticed and learning things. He never gossiped, for that wouldn’t be proper, but he knew much more than folk gave him credit for, and what he didn’t know he could usually guess, especially where it concerned Frodo. Sam had guessed Bilbo might take a trip for a while, but when Merry had said he’d left for good, Sam knew it to be true.

“Neither did I,” Frodo said quietly, his voice filled with such sadness it tore Sam’s heart. “But everybody leaves,” Frodo continued as he looked down the East Road with vacant eyes. “No one ever stays, do they Sam?”

“I’ll stay sir. As long as you want.”

Frodo smiled sadly. “I know.”

Quick, Sam, think of something to distract him. He searched his mind for an early memory, back when Frodo had first arrived at Bag End, and he and Bilbo had been so happy. “Do you remember how Mr. Bilbo would teach me to read?”

Frodo’s smile was genuine now. “Yes. He’d teach you a poem or song and then have you write it out. I remember the first word you learned to write. After your name that is. Do you remember?”

“I do. It was oliphaunt.”

“Bilbo never did start out small, did he? ‘Tackle the big things first my lad, and leave the smaller things for later.’ ”

“He said that to me once also, though I forget why. … Do you really think oliphaunts exist sir?”

“Why not? Certainly far stranger things have wound up being real.”

Sam nodded at the statement, then stood up and with his hands clasped behind his back began to recite the poem.

Grey as a mouse,
Big as a house,
Nose like a snake,
I make the earth shake,
As I tramp through the grass;
Trees crack as I pass…*

Merry heard Frodo’s laughter as he reached the end of the smial. It seemed to be coming from outside, from above him. He heart leapt to hear it and he followed the sound up the garden path. By the time he reached to summit of the great smial, Sam had retaken his seat next to his master and they were both looking over the Party Field, pointing at the various hobbits running about and speaking quietly to each other. Frodo laughed again at something Sam said.

“Frodo?” Merry said, making his presence known.

Frodo looked back at the sound of his best friend’s voice and stood up to greet him. Sam also leapt to his feet, his hand clapped to his forehead. “Oh, ninnyhammer! I’m sorry Master Merry, I forgot. I was supposed to take you down to him, sir,” he explained to Frodo.

“It’s all right, Sam,” Frodo said. “Why don’t you go down to the Party Field instead and let Merry’s parents know where he is. Then organize the other gardeners and start hauling folks back to their homes. After that, I want you to get some rest. You’ll need whatever energy you can muster to help with the cleaning up tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir. Good night sir, Master Merry. And I’ll be up tomorrow after the clean up before I head home to see if you need anything.”

“Thank you Sam, for everything,” Frodo said, patting his gardener on the shoulder, and with that, Sam was gone.

Frodo turned his attention at last to his friend. It had been difficult avoiding him all day. He had wanted nothing more than to confide in Merry from the moment he arrived. “I’m glad you came.”

“Of course I came. You didn’t think there was any possible way you’d escape a prank like that without explanation, now did you?” Merry joked.

Frodo laughed. “I suppose I should have known better,” he joked back.

“Yes you should have. You know the inquisitiveness of Brandybucks better than that.”

So finally, after a day of painful evasiveness, Frodo sat with his cousin and explained everything from the beginning, about Bilbo deciding to leave and at last handing over Bag End to his heir. Merry listened, never interrupting, though it was clear there were a great many details Frodo was leaving out. He asked no questions, but offered to stay and help with whatever tomorrow may bring. Frodo gladly accepted the offer and embraced his friend gratefully. “Oh Merry, whatever would I do without you?”

Merry patted Frodo on the back and released him from the embrace. He smirked at his cousin. “Steal the jacket off your gardener’s back apparently. Really, Cousin, you should be more considerate.”

Frodo looked down at the jacket still draped over his shoulders, forgotten until now. “Poor Sam! He must be freezing by now.”

Merry shook his head. “He knows you’re warm. He’ll be fine enough,” he said. Then something on the road caught his eye. “Ah, there are the folks. Best go down and greet them.”  

Saradoc and Esmeralda agreed to let Merry stay at Bag End alone with Frodo. They knew how much Frodo relied on Merry, who had often been the only one able to cheer the lad when he was living at Brandy Hall. They wouldn’t dream of separating the two now, after the events of tonight.

But Saradoc was upset. He always knew the Road would call to Bilbo again, but he had hoped Bilbo would put it off another few years at least, for Frodo’s sake. To leave the lad on his birthday, his coming of age no less, was careless of the old hobbit. Frodo may be officially an adult, but he still needed support to become comfortably settled into his new role. To be thrust into the position of Master of the Hill by a trick of poor taste that landed Frodo in the hot seat was beyond tolerance. Saradoc doubted he would ever see Bilbo again, but if he did, he would give the old fool a stern lecturing for his treatment of Frodo tonight.

Esmeralda was of similar mind as her husband, though she was also more forgiving. She doubted this was as shocking for Frodo as it was for everyone else. Bilbo wouldn’t have left without giving his heir some sort of forewarning. She only hoped she could convince the lad to come to them if things became too much, or if he needed advice or anything else. Frodo was always so stubbornly independent, from the time he was a wee child, and living with a stubborn, independent bachelor the last twelve years hadn't gone far to remedy that.

Pippin begged to be able to stay with his friends, but everyone was against it. Paladin and Tina didn’t want to impose the hassle upon Frodo who, despite his calm demeanor, seemed ready to unravel at any moment. He didn’t need a child under foot come morning, when all of Hobbiton and Bywater and many of their relations who were camping in the area would return to hang upon the bell. Tina offered to stay behind to help in any way she could, but Frodo insisted that with Merry’s help everything would get taken care of.

Seeing he was getting nowhere with the adults, Pippin pleaded with Merry to stay, giving him the pout that always worked when he wanted his way. Only this time, it didn’t work. Merry was sympathetic to Pippin’s wishes, but he felt the same as their parents: Pippin would only get in the way. Pippin stomped out of the smial when he heard Merry’s verdict, his arms crossed and shoulders drawn tight with resentment. He refused to come inside again, going to sit in the carriage and vent. He didn’t even slow down when Merry called to him to wait.

Minutes later, the carriages left, heading back to Whitwell. A pony was left tied to the gate for Merry’s use when he was ready to return to the farm, where his parents would wait for him. He was given strict orders to not keep them waiting more than two days. There was no one left in charge at Buckland, as even old Master Rory had come to the party and he would be taking his time in returning to visit with numerous relations along the way, with Merimac going with him to make sure his father didn’t get sidetracked at all the inns.

Frodo returned briefly to the party. Folk were still demanding to know what was going on, and by this time even those who had not been in the pavilion had heard all about what happened. He made a general announcement that everything would be sorted out come morning and said nothing more. He returned the jacket to Sam, who accepted it gratefully, then returned home.

By the time he returned, Merry had made tea and had the fire going in the parlor, filling the room with light and warmth. The two friends spoke long into the night, remembering Bilbo’s many oddities with affection and admiration, until they finally drifted off to sleep where they sat on the old hobbit’s favorite red rocking chair.
 
 

To be continued…
 

GF 5/23/04
 

* – from The Two Towers, The Black Gate is Closed