Chapter 13

Within an hour of leaving the forest, they reached the outer fields that marked the boundary between the north and west farthings, and there they rested again to eat the last of their food. Sam gave Merry and Pippin a final treatment of the berry poultice and examined Pippin’s hand one more time as Pippin watched the butterflies fluttering about the field.

Once they were adequately rested, they forced themselves up and marched on. They found a path through a barley field that Sam said would save them a few miles and then cut across a strawberry patch. Beyond that was another open field of lavender and golden wallflower and on the far end of this was a lane running along the outskirts of an apple orchard. Pippin suggested cutting through the orchard as well, and one whisper of his rumbling stomach suggested the reason why. Sam however had to decline the idea.

“These are Cartwright’s lands,” he explained. “Cut through these and you’ll wind up going west away from the Hill. But this here lane’ll take us to the road, and we can take that to Overhill. We’ve another ten miles to Bag End.”

“Ten miles!” Pippin exclaimed. “But I’m tired.”

“Pippin,” Merry started to admonish but Frodo cut him off.

“It’s all right, we’re all a little tired,” Frodo said. “We’ll rest again when we get to Overhill.”

“But we’ve nothing to eat,” Pippin said. He knew he was whining and being childish, but he couldn’t help it. He just wanted to sit down and never have to move again, unless it was to eat of course.

“If you don’t mind, sirs, we can stop by Mr. Boffin’s once we reach Overhill,” Sam suggested. “My cousin Hal’s there and he can see us fed.”

“Will Griffo be there?” Merry and Pippin asked immediately, both equally concerned.

Sam shook his head. “I don’t believe so, sirs. He was going hunting after the Fair last I heard.”

“Yes, he was going to take his son and Folco along, and Cousin Rosa is visiting with Ponto and Porto in Hobbiton,” Frodo added, curious about his cousins’ sudden concern about the presence of old Griffo Boffin. He quickly decided he didn’t want to know and led the way to the road and on toward Overhill. If Halfast Gamgee didn’t object to feeding them on such short notice, it would solve the problem of fixing something once they arrived home.

The sun was beginning to wan when they reached Overhill and the hour was approaching dinnertime by the rumblings of their stomachs. The temperature dropped suddenly when they reached the foot of the hills and a sudden gust of wind swept through the valley, cooling the weary travelers and bringing refreshment with its welcoming chill. This helped them march the last half-mile to Griffo’s smial, but once there, Sam did not lead them to the grand, blue front door. Instead, he took them around the back of the property to the barn. He bid the others to stand back and then knocked upon the side door.

A minute passed before the door swung open and a common hobbit in worn homespun appeared. His hair was honey brown and he was not much older than Sam by appearance. His simple face split into a grin when he saw Sam. “Sammy!” he exclaimed and pulled Sam in for a hug. “What a surprise! What in the Shire brings you here?”

“Hullo Hal. Sorry for dropping in with no warning, but, well, we’re hungry if you don’t mind,” Sam said apologetically. “We’re coming back from camping and we’re out of food.”

“We?” Hal asked and stepped out of the barn. When he spotted the company Sam had brought with him, his countenance changed immediately to one of formality. He straightened up his ruffled shirt and smoothed down his matted hair with a quick pass through of his fingers. Then he bowed slightly. “Evening to you, Mr. Baggins, Mr. Brandybuck, Master Took. How are you this fine day?”

“We’re quite well, thank you, Master Halfast,” Frodo responded. “We are deeply sorry for the intrusion. If it puts you out too much, we’ll move on.”

“Nonsense. Let it not be said of me as I ever turned away the Master of the Hill, and you being Mistress Boffin’s cousin asides, but you can hardly be eating in the barn like a common work hand. It wouldn’t be proper,” Hal said hastily and turned to Sam with a bewildered and reproachful expression. “You should of rung on the bell, Sam. What’s got in your head, or out of it as I should say, bringing them down here?”

“I didn’t think anyone else would be there,” Sam said and shuffled his feet uncomfortably. If this didn’t get back to his Gaffer, it would be a miracle.

“Well, come on in then and help yourself to whatever there is,” Hal said to Sam as he stepped out of the barn. “I’ll take the masters up to the hole. Come along, Mr. Baggins, Missus Ivy can see you and your kin fed proper.”

“But,” Pippin started to protest. He looked uncertainly at Sam, who shook his head and entered the barn without a word. Pippin turned to his cousins, who were not very happy about this turn of events either, but they quietly followed Hal to the house all the same. Pippin let the protest die on his lips before following after, knowing that anything he said would be met with a reminder of what was proper and what wasn’t.

A young comely lass with russet curls was just walking out the front door, having finishing her daily cleaning duties, when Hal called out to her. “We’ve hungry mouths here, Ivy,” he said. “Best get them fed or Mr. Boffin’ll have our hides.”

“Of course,” Ivy said with a small curtsy, expertly hiding her surprise. “Will you be staying overnight as well, sirs?”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Frodo answered. He and his cousins set their packs on the porch and followed the young lass into the smial.

Hal left then to return to the barn. He came back to find Sam sitting on the floor by the crate that served as Hal’s table, a plate full of food in front of him. Hal sat across from him and resumed his own meal of roasted pork, baked potato, corn and fresh bread. He poured Sam a cup of ale from his flask and handed it over with a nod of his head in the direction of the smial.

“So, camping were you? With those two?” Hal said, meaning Merry and Pippin. “You know the last time they was here a visiting Master Folco, they near broke that vase of Mistress Boffin’s. An heirloom it is, passed down to her from the mothers of her family from way back. She was right upset about the whole thing. They’re actually not supposed to be here without the mistress being home.”

“I’m sorry, Hal. I didn’t know,” Sam said.

Hal shrugged it off and waved the concern away. “Wasn’t their fault really. Ivy’s little lad let one of the hens inside the hole and Mr. Merry and Master Pippin were chasing after it trying to get it back out. Then Mr. Folco tried to help, and you know he’s a heart of gold but he would trip over his own feet sitting down that one would. They took the blame for it all. Right kind of them it was. Ivy’d just started this job and she couldn’t afford to be losing it. So, as far as we’re concerned, you were never here tonight,” Hal finished with a wink.

“Thank you, Hal,” Sam said appreciatively. “Won’t Mr. Boffin notice food missing from his pantry though?”

“Nay, he didn’t even notice the hen in the smial ‘til his wife started in on Master Folco and them. So where were you camping?” Hal asked, and Sam commenced to highlight the trip through Bindbole Wood.  

Ivy served the cousins quickly and efficiently. However she managed to make such a feast on such short notice was beyond any of them, but they greatly enjoyed the meal. A hearty beef stew, buttermilk bread, mashed potatoes with gravy, carrots and peas soon filled the table in the formal dining room where she had escorted them. A tart and sweet raspberry tea completed the meal.

Talk was scarce. They were too tired, too hungry, and they all had the distinct feeling that they really shouldn’t be there. Frodo couldn’t argue against Hal’s logic for bringing them to the smial. As far as the roper was concerned, it was only the proper thing to do, even if Griffo wasn’t there to entertain them, but they all would have preferred to eat in the barn with Sam. That no doubt is what Sam had in mind when he brought them here, knowing they wouldn’t mind the common setting, but Hal clearly would not have heard anything of the sort. To him, it was nearly as unthinkable as letting Sam come with them inside the smial to eat, and Sam too would have protested that.

Still, they had not expected to be separated from each other so suddenly. It was an abrupt and unexpected reminder of the propriety they had so easily forgotten on their trip. Sam had quickly enough readjusted, as he had never fully allowed himself to forget it, but the others still felt that Sam should be there with them. For all their talk that propriety didn’t matter between friends, they suddenly and undeniably saw why Sam continually insisted that it did.

“They can’t really stop us from going out to the barn, can they?” Pippin suggested hopefully as they helped themselves to seconds.

“You’d put Sam in a fix doing that,” Merry pointed out and that was the end of the discussion.

They tucked in and ate their food, which tasted as delicious as it smelled, and the hobbits fed themselves until every last morsel and drop was gone. Ivy served them well, and she saw that the empty bowls and plates were cleared away promptly. When the meal was finished, she curtsied again and fidgeted nervously. “I’m sorry, sirs, but there’s maught prepared for afters,” she said. “I could make you a custard with some strawberries easily enough if you’d like.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Frodo assured, ignoring his cousins’ frowns. “We’ve asked enough of you for one night and you’ve been a most gracious hostess.”

“Thank you, sirs.” She escorted them to the door and they insisted on seeing themselves back to the barn.

The sun was just finished setting, the sky above darkening into dusk as the last strands of pink and gold on the horizon faded into night. The stars were bright and sparkling, and the half-moon bathed the land with gentle light. They retrieved their packs from the porch and shouldered them as they made their way back to the barn.

They heard Sam’s rich, throaty laughter before they even reached the side door. “Remind ole Ham of that next time he starts giving you talk about what’s proper,” Hal said with a laugh of his own, which caused Sam to further dissolve into giggles.

The cousins looked at each other bewilderedly. They seemed to have just missed a very amusing story about Gaffer Gamgee, one that wasn’t likely to be repeated in their company. Frodo waited until the laughing died down, then knocked lightly on the door. After a moment, Hal answered, with no sign of the jest he had been telling. He formally bowed and quickly offered to take their packs.

“Hal said he’d drive us down to Hobbiton,” Sam explained, just as serious, as he stepped outside behind his cousin and pointed to the pony trap waiting on the lane.

“Thank you, Master Halfast, that’s quite generous of you,” Frodo said. Any hesitation he had about accepting the offer dissolved when he noticed his cousins’ grateful smiles. They had done more than their share of walking for one day, but Frodo still had to ask. “Are you certain it’s not any trouble?”

“None at all, Mr. Baggins. I was going to ride the pony after sunset anyhow. She needs her legs stretched a bit, she does. She’s spent too many days sitting about in the shade of late,” Hal said and again asked for their packs. Sam took Frodo’s, and Hal effortlessly slung the other two packs onto his back and carried them to the cart. They placed the packs at the back of the cart next to Sam’s and Hal saw the cousins settled. “Come Sammy, ride up front with me.”

Sam did as he was told, and before long, the pony trap was rolling gently forward. This wasn’t exactly the end to their trip they had planned on, but they couldn’t deny it would be wonderful to arrive home already fed and rested.

The cart ride to Hobbiton was peaceful and as smooth as one could hope for. Hal knew where the smoothest parts of the road were and steered the pony gently and expertly. Frodo and Merry enjoyed a pipe as they dangled their feet out the back of the cart, and Pippin gratefully lay down and observed the night sky, making up his own name for the stars.

“That’s Bombur,” Pippin said, pointing to a larger star. “And that’s Erling, and that’s Eorl, and that’s Sapphire.”

“Why Sapphire?” Merry interrupted, for there was a Sapphire Banks at Great Smials and he wanted to know if there was a connection.

Pippin shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s blue,” he answered before continuing. “And see that cluster over there? That’s Biscuit Dough.”

This was met by laughs from Frodo and Merry, and up front in the coach, Hal and Sam smiled at each other, chuckling softly. Pippin continued with his list undaunted, naming the stars so randomly that Frodo was certain he named a few of them two or three times over.

A half-hour after setting out, they pulled to a stop at the Bag End gate. The sight of the round green door, even muted as it was by the darkness of night, had never looked more inviting. The hobbits clamored out of the cart, and Pippin was through the gate and up the path before the others could even retrieve their packs. Hal took up Pippin’s pack and followed the others into the smial.

Once the packs were set down in the sitting room, Hal took his leave with a nod and a bow. He offered to take Sam home, but the gardener respectfully declined. Sam saw his cousin back to the cart and waved him off, with promises to visit again soon. He waited until the pony trap disappeared around the bend of the Hill before returning to the smial.

He walked silently into the front parlor, where his master, Mr. Merry and Master Pippin had flung themselves haphazardly upon the settee and stuffed chair. Master Pippin was so tired, he was dozing lightly within seconds of curling up and resting his head on the chair’s arm, and Mr. Merry looked close to falling asleep himself, stretched out as he was on the settee. Mr. Frodo sat at the other end of the settee, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. He breathed in deeply and sighed contentedly, happy to be home at last.

“Would you like me to get the baths prepared, sir?” Sam asked.

Frodo shook his head and forced himself to his feet. “That won’t be necessary, Sam. You’ve done more than enough over the last three days. Get yourself home and get some rest. I’ll see to things here.”

“I could stop by Miss Camellia’s and have her come up in an hour or so. That’ll give you time to wash up and settle in a bit,” Sam offered. The healer’s house was a bit out of his way, but it would make more sense for him to go than Mr. Frodo. Sam was going down the Hill anyway and he didn’t want his master going out when he was so exhausted.

Frodo accepted this offer and saw Sam to the door, where he reminded his gardener that he wasn’t expected to work until late the next day. When Sam was gone, Frodo made his way to the bathing rooms and started water warming for the baths. Once everything was prepared, he returned to the parlor and woke up Merry. They let Pippin sleep for the time being, and Merry took the front bathing room, promising to get another bath prepared for Pippin after he finished. Frodo made his way down the tunnel to his own bathing room and closed himself inside, more than ready to relax in the steaming water.

A half-hour later, Merry was washed, dried, dressed in clean clothes, groomed and refreshed. As he promised, he had started more water to heating after getting out of the bath and he now drained the tub and refilled it halfway. He didn’t want to give Pippin too much water to splash about in, though he figured he may as well hunt down a mop just in case.

He slipped out of the bathing room and deposited his soiled clothes in the laundry bin that sat in the back foyer. On the way back to the parlor, he stopped outside the second bathing room and listened intently. He heard no sound of movement within, so he lightly tapped on the door. This was a habit of his from when Frodo had still lived at Brandy Hall, and try as he might, he couldn’t break it. For some reason he could not explain, he had always had the oddest feeling that if he didn’t tap on the door, something dire would happen.

“I’m here, Merry,” came Frodo’s customary response, accompanied by a sudden slosh of water.

“Take your time,” Merry replied. “I’m just waking up Pippin.”

“Very well,” came the drowsy reply, followed by another, slower slosh of water.

Merry went into the guest room and grabbed Pippin’s change of clothes they had left here prior to their trip. He then went back to the parlor and tiptoed over to Pippin. He nudged his friend gently at first, then more persistently as Pippin refused to open his eyes. Merry shook Pippin’s shoulder and finally had to reach down and sit Pippin up before getting a groaning response.

“I’m tired,” Pippin protested and rubbed his eyes groggily.

“Time to get up, Pip,” Merry said. “The bath’s ready for you and do try to keep the splashing to a minimum.”

He helped Pippin to his feet and led his cousin to the bathing room. Once there, Pippin showed more energy as he headed for the tub, peeling off his clothes and tossing them all about the room. Merry placed fresh clothes on the bench and left Pippin to his bathing. He retrieved the mop from the closet in the kitchenette and stood it outside the bathing room door.

Merry roamed about the smial as he waited for his cousins to finish washing up. He eventually made his way into the library and started going through the various books there. He figured he would attempt to find something about that hedge in Bindbole if he could. He at least was still curious about it and the task would help pass the time. Frodo found him there a few minutes later and together, they scanned through as many of the dusty tomes as they could before the healer arrived.

Miss Camellia examined Merry first while Frodo went to retrieve Pippin out of the bath. She checked to make sure all the stingers were removed, as that was her main concern. Wasps generally do not leave their stingers behind, but Sam had mentioned that Frodo had found one. All the bites were clean though and the juniper berries had done their work well in reducing the swelling.

When Pippin came out, dressed but with his hair still dripping wet, Miss Camellia examined his sting bite and the scratch on his hand. Sam had suspected an allergic reaction to the cut, and Miss Camellia was pleased to see no evidence of infection. Sam had thought quickly about using the honey and keeping the wound covered. She made a cream for the cut and recommended that Pippin use it twice a day until the redness faded completely.

“You’re not going to give us anything for the wasp bites?” Merry asked as she stood up to leave.

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Mr. Merry. I imagine you won’t even notice them in the morning,” Miss Camellia said. “They don’t generally hurt more than a day or so. I could leave some elderberry tea if you like, though.”

“That won’t be necessary, Miss Camellia. I have some of my own,” Frodo said.

“But Sam said they would sting for a week,” Merry said, confused. He was even more confused when Pippin and Frodo laughed. He looked at them questioningly.

“He was teasing with you, Merry,” Pippin said.

“Teasing?” Merry asked. Sam had sounded so serious.

Frodo nodded. “I suspect that he was.”

“So this is what I have to look forward to then?” Merry asked and laughed himself. He could see that he would have to start learning the signs that meant Sam was joking. The gardener clearly was not as obvious with his jests as Pippin, or even Frodo.

They thanked Miss Camellia for her services and for coming out so late. Frodo saw her to the door, then called for Pippin to get back into the bathroom and mop the floor. Pippin willingly complied, and Merry and Frodo returned to the library to continue their research. Pippin joined them shortly, and while he didn’t help them, he did keep them entertained with as many songs as he could sing before drifting off to sleep again.

Merry was the next to succumb to sleep, and Frodo watched them both as they dozed, until his head started to droop as well. He, however, was not going to sleep on a chair when his bed was just across the tunnel. He found blankets and covered his cousins tightly, then kissed them on the tops of their curly heads. He blew out all but one of the candles and soundlessly made his way to his room. He climbed into his pleasantly soft bed and had just enough energy to snuff out the last candle before falling into deep slumber.  

Down the Hill in Number Three, Bagshot Row, Sam stood in his pantry with a quill and paper in hand. His list was getting longer by the minute and he wondered how he could ever hope to get everything done in the morning that needed doing.
 
 
 

To be concluded…