Chapter 39. A Matter of Business

When Pippin awakened, he made a beeline for the study, Lop at his heels, though the sheepdog sat obediently enough when Pippin ordered him to stay in the hallway.

Thus warned, Bilbo swung around to greet the youngster. 'Well then, laddie,' he said, affecting the Tookish lilt that he remembered from his mother. He patted his knee, and Pippin confidently climbed into Bilbo's lap, rummaging in the drawer where he knew Bilbo kept a few sweets.

Bilbo undid the wrapping and waited until the sweet was popped into the little mouth, and then he said, 'So, Master Pippin, what is it, that brings you here to Bag End? Your father said in his letter that you wished to see me most urgently, on an important matter, but that you wouldn't tell him what it was all about!'

Pippin moved the sweet to his cheek and studied Bilbo with wide eyes. 'You're not s'posed to talk about business on the day someone arrives,' he said.

'Well, well,' Bilbo said heartily, 'what's a little business between friends?' Using his most coaxing tone, he added, 'I'm sure I don't mind hearing your business now, even though you've just arrived.' As Pippin started to protest, he raised a hand. 'I know, I know, "what's proper" and all that, but we're not Sackville-Bagginses to stand on ceremony, are we?'

Pippin earnestly shook his head.

'Well then,' Bilbo said in his most winning tones, 'now that we've put that out of the way... what brings you to my doorstep, young Pippin? I'm about to burst with curiosity.'

'I wouldn't want you to burst!' Pippin said in horror, and looked as if he were about to cry.

It took some reassuring and another sweet, but finally Pippin was persuaded that he would not be intolerably rude, to bring up his business here and now and not have to "sleep on it" and wait until the morning, as is hobbit custom.

'Just a moment,' he said, slipping down from Bilbo's knee. He left the study, ordering the sheepdog to stay. Lop and Bilbo stared solemnly at each other, awaiting his return.

'I don't suppose you know what all this is about?' Bilbo said.

Lop put his head on his paws and sighed.

'I thought not.'

Pippin returned with the cloth-wrapped bundle he'd laid safely under the bench by the front door, to await the proper time of unveiling.

'What's this?' Bilbo said, eyebrows rising as the young hobbit carefully placed the bundle in his lap with a faint chinking noise.

'We'll need the Elf-glue,' Pippin said, watching Bilbo's fingers work at the series of firm knots he'd tied. He hadn't wanted the bundle to come undone and pieces of teapot fall out, doing more damage!

'Mmm,' Bilbo said, scarcely taking note of the youngster's words. At last he had the final knot undone, and he folded back the cloth to reveal the contents. 'What's this?' he repeated.

'I broke it,' Pippin said simply.

'I should say you did!' Bilbo agreed, lifting a shard for a careful look and setting it down again to look over the whole. 'A teapot, was it?'

Pippin nodded. 'I have to fix it!' he said. 'She was weeping, she was!'

'I can imagine,' Bilbo said, stirring the remnants of the shattered pot with a finger. Looking up, he said, 'Glue? I'm afraid glue cannot mend this sorrow.'

'The Elf-glue!' Pippin insisted.

'Elf-glue?' Bilbo echoed, bemused. 'Where did you hear of Elf-glue, lad?'

Pippin huffed an exasperated sigh. 'When Nell broke the teacup,' he reminded. 'When she tripped on my foot, walking back to her seat, and dropped her cup. Da looked O-so-grim, and Mama scolded, but you swooped her up in one hand and the cup in the other, sat her upon her chair, said, "Half a moment!" and left... O but Da was put out, he was, and he glowered at Nell from under his eyebrows for breaking a good china cup, that didn't even belong to us, which made it worse...'

Bilbo managed to interject into the earnest flow of words, ' 'Twas only a cup; as easy to break as a young hobbit's heart, though not half so important...'

Pippin broke into a bright smile. 'That's what you said!' he crowed. 'I remember! Though it was so very long ago...'

'Not all that long ago,' Bilbo murmured, for it had been just before spring planting started. Paladin had driven his family to Bywater Market, for his weary old plough had broken for the last time, unrepairable, and the best ploughs in the Shire were to be had in Bywater, or so it was said. Bilbo, hearing they were coming, invited them as a matter of course to stop over at Bag End, to stay the night before starting the daylong drive to Whittacres.

'And you brought the cup out, good as new! And told us all about the wondrous Elf-glue you had in the cupboard, that mended cracks and breaks so that you couldn't even see them...'

As a matter of fact, Bilbo had simply buried the shards of unfortunate cup in the dustbin, under a few crumpled papers, and taken down another cup from its hook, wiped any dust off with a cloth, and brought it to the parlour, presenting it with a flourish to Pimpernel and rejoicing to see a wondering smile replace the woebegone look. Eglantine's hand on her husband's arm had calmed Paladin, and after a significant glance between them, the parents had dropped the matter completely. It was all they could do, really, for it would have been unconscionably rude to pursue the matter.

'Elf-glue,' Bilbo echoed with a sinking feeling. He looked from the shattered teapot in his lap to the eager young face before him, and down again, fingering the shards. It had been a pretty teapot at one time, with a pattern of thistle flowers delicately hand-painted on the porcelain surface. A dim memory hovered, his mother cautioning him to be careful...

'Elf-glue!' Pippin insisted, dispelling the mists of memory.

'I'm that sorry, lad,' Bilbo said, though he hated to do it. Fetching a cup from a nearly inexhaustible supply (his great-grandmother's tea set would still accommodate a swarm of guests, even now, with half the set gone over the course of time due to the inevitable breakage that delicate china suffers) is a far cry from producing on demand a rare and valuable antique teapot. Staring into the trusting eyes lifted to his, he stumbled over his words a little. 'I'm... I'm afraid I'm fresh out of Elf-glue. Used the last of it a few days ago, and I'm not sure when I'll be making another journey to see the Elves.'

'Why, you just returned from seeing the Elves, Bilbo!' Frodo said from the door, laughing. 'Don't tell me you're off again!'

'But...' Pippin said, his little face crumpling in distress. 'But... she was weeping! And it was all my fault!'

'I'm sorry, lad,' Bilbo said again, and Frodo, instantly repentant in the face of his little cousin's tragic tone, hurried into the room to embrace Pippin, though he didn't know what the trouble was.

Bilbo gently folded the cloth over the shards and placed the whole on his desk. 'Robin's coming for supper,' he said, to change the subject, and standing up from his chair he lifted little Pippin into his arms. 'I'm going to need some help in cooking a supper suitable for a wandering conjuror! It's Sally's half-day, you see, and just as well... I always send her off to her mother's when Gandalf pops up, for she's not easy around Big Folk. But that leaves me to do the cookery! I'm all at a loss! What do you suppose a wandering conjuror likes to eat, anyhow?'

Frodo followed the two to the kitchen, rather at a loss as to the nature of Pippin's difficulty, but ready to play along. Bilbo was perfectly competent in the kitchen. He employed Salsify for several reasons: Frodo, as a growing tween, was invariably hungry; Bilbo was used to spending long hours in his study, or being able to be off at a moment's notice; and Salsify's mother, a widow, had many mouths to feed, and the coin the lass brought home from her cooking and cleaning helped in that respect. However, the old hobbit often played at culinary incompetence when young hobbits were visiting, for it delighted them to tell him his business in the kitchen, and made them feel important as they helped to set the table and carry in the food.

This play, however, did not restore the youngest hobbit's spirits. Pippin was more dutiful than joyous in his assigned tasks, and it was Frodo that kept Bilbo from sugaring the soup, for the youngster hardly noticed. As a matter of fact, once or twice he brushed his sleeve across his eyes, hastily, in a furtive manner, and the two older hobbits exchanged troubled glances.

Pippin, however, put on a good face for the visitor when Robin reappeared at the door. The conjuror kept the conversation lively, with his tales of his travels, and of course Bilbo had much to tell as well, while Frodo and Pippin listened in wonder and delight, scarcely noticing what food was put before them (though the juicy roast, tender potatoes, honeyed carrots and thin-sliced cucumbers, with all the other accompaniments, disappeared from their plates just as magically as if Robin had conjured them away).

***

'Message!' one of the hired hobbits called, trotting up the lane in the late afternoon sunshine.

'A message!' Paladin said in alarm. What could have happened now? 'Quick, Tod, what's it about? Who brought it?'

'Someone I didn't know; he was in haste to return home,' Tod said, 'something about his mother's birthday, but he left this with me, for you, Dinny.' He extended a letter.

Paladin broke the seal on the spot, unfolded the missive, and perused it, giving a sigh of relief. 'It's from Bilbo,' he said, 'though I think it's young Frodo's handwriting. He says he's taken Pippin in hand, and will be bringing the lad home on the morrow.' He scratched his head. 'I didn't know Bilbo was visiting the Bankses, but I'm glad it worked out the way it did. Pippin was troubled in his mind and wanted to talk to the old hobbit anyhow.'

'Do you want me to go to the Bankses, to tell him not to come?' Tod said.

'No,' Paladin answered heavily. 'Truth be told, I was planning to summon the lad in the morning anyhow, to take his leave of his cousin. It didn't seem right, somehow, for him not to have the chance to see young Ferdi while he's still in this life.'

***

It was only after Frodo had shut up Lop in the stables ("He's not used to sleeping indoors," Pippin had told Bilbo earnestly. "Da doesn't hold with dogs indoors, and Lop might forget himself...") that, creeping past the best guest room where Bilbo had tucked up his little cousin before joining the visiting Man for brandy, the tween heard the sound of muffled weeping.

He eased the door open. 'Pip?' he whispered. Bilbo had read a good-night story, and after Pippin dropped off, left the lamp burning brightly for the sake of the little hobbit, so far from home and mother, in case he should waken and be frightened by the dark.

The weeping stopped. Only a lump in the middle of the bed showed that it was occupied.

Frodo stole into the room and drew back the covers, unearthing a small, tear-stained face. He sat down upon the bed and gathered the little one into his arms. 'What's it all about, Pip?' he whispered. 'Do you miss your mum? You'll be seeing her tomorrow, you know. Bilbo and I are going to take you home, and...'

Pippin buried his face in Frodo's shirt and began once more to weep. Frodo held him close, patting his back, unable to make out more than a broken phrase or two.

'My fault,' the little one sobbed. 'My fault... can't be mended...'

Frodo held tight the whole while his young cousin cried himself to sleep, and then drawing the covers over them both, he curled around Pippin, eventually falling into a troubled sleep of his own.

Bilbo, having said "good night" to his guest, saw them still snuggled close together in sleep when he checked on Pippin. He shook his head with a fond smile, lit the watch-lamp and blew out the bright lamp, and took himself off to bed.