On the Giving of Pipes

By: Elemmírë

Series: Lord of the Rings

Summary: Frodo receives his very first pipe. Frodo is 25 & Bilbo is 103 (16 & 65½ in Man years).

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings does not belong to me, nor am I making any profit off either its story or characters.

Author’s Note: I work as a Respiratory Therapist and as part of my job I am an advocate for smoking cessation. Therefore, I cannot honestly believe I wrote this tale! But, it was an idea that wouldn't let itself go unwritten, but I would let it be known that I am not promoting the use of tobacco in this story. That said, I hope you all enjoy!

Every year, Frodo always received two birthday presents from Bilbo, just as his uncle received two presents in return as they shared the same birthday of Halimath 22nd. Per hobbit tradition, one could receive a gift upon their birthday only if it were presented in person before noontime of that day. The expectation of receiving was limited to second cousins or nearer kin, and to residence within 12 miles†. Bilbo had always made sure that Frodo received two gifts, regardless, claiming that the first present from him was in honor of the lad's birthday and the second mathom was in honor of his own birthday. It was quite convenient since they were born the same day.

The second gift was most usually given to Frodo during their joint-birthday party when Bilbo handed out the rest of his mathoms to their party guests. Not one to always follow hobbit tradition, Bilbo often gave Frodo the lad's birthday present after the noon hour or even the next day after their party, when it was just the two of them again.

This morning, Frodo had received what he thought of as a very special gift from his uncle. It was the same gift that every hobbit lad received from their father on their 25th birthday, but Frodo perceived his new rite of passage to be more of a trial for him. In his opinion, Bilbo had gone above and beyond the norm and Frodo loved his uncle all the more for it.

After elevenses, Bilbo had summoned Frodo to the sitting room, biding him to sit down next to him on the plush sofa. In the old hobbit's lap was a long, flat object wrapped in a dark green, silk drawstring bag.

"You're twenty-five years old today, Frodo-lad ... and it's time you learned a tradition that has been passed down from fath- ... from generation to generation since Tobold Hornblower first cultivated the first pipeweed in the Shire." Bilbo faltered, giving his nephew a half-hearted smile. He had almost said, 'from father to son,' as his own father, Bungo Baggins, had once told him long, long ago during this very same ritual. Bilbo didn't want to make his orphaned nephew any more uncomfortable than he obviously already was. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all, Bilbo thought. Nonsense, he's got to learn sometime, hasn't he?

Frodo looked down at his furry feet, pretending to smooth out a non-existent wrinkle in the fabric of his fine linen breeches. He had not been looking forward to his 25th birthday at all. It was considered to be the first milestone in a tween lad's life and one of the most important things that a father taught his son. Turning twenty-five and learning the art of smoking pipeweed for the first time was just as important as being able to order a half-pint of ale at the local pub--something else Frodo would have to do with Bilbo instead of his own father, when he turned twenty-eight. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his uncle's efforts, but Frodo was keenly aware of his father's absence in his life on these particular days more so than ever.

Without any further ado, Bilbo thrust the gift he held into his nephew's fidgeting hands.

Frodo, of course, already knew what was inside ... or so he thought. He pulled open the drawstring of the silk bag and withdrew a long square case made from a rich, dark wood. The case was polished to a high sheen and bore his initials on the lid in gold script. Frodo lifted the shiny brass latch, opened the box, and gasped. Inside was not one pipe, but three! They lay in a neat vertical row, each nested in the red velvet lining of the case. Before the tween could say anything, Bilbo explained.

"This first pipe here is the very same one that my father gave to me when I turned twenty-five years of age. It seems so long ago now ..." Bilbo gave a slight chuckle before continuing in a more serious tone. "This pipe is very special. You may say that it has become a family heirloom of sorts, for this pipe stems all the way back to my great-grandfather--your great-great grandfather--Balbo Baggins. He gifted it to Mungo, his first-born son, on his 25th birthday, and it has been passed down through the Baggins family ever since."

Bilbo's voice became choked up with sentiment as he continued, for there was once a time when he thought he would never have been able to continue this tradition. Just as his father had once done 78-years earlier, Bilbo lifted the pipe from its berth in the case.

"And now, I am handing it down to you, Frodo my lad. I hope that someday if you choose to marry, that you will hand it down to your own first-born son." Bilbo placed the pipe into his beloved nephew's hands.

Frodo gazed at the ancient pipe he held. Balbo Baggins' pipe was made of briar, as were most hobbit pipes; briar wood was naturally resistant to fire and readily absorbed moisture. The bowl was round in shape and had been treated long ago with a half-and-half honey/water mixture, thus creating a burn-resistant barrier within the bowl. The long stem was also made from treated briar wood, its mouthpiece overlaid with a black, porcelain-like material that shined when the light reflected off it. There were intricate carvings and scrollwork all along the stem, which culminated in the Baggins' family crest etched into the outside of the round bowl.

Most young hobbit lads learned to smoke using a pipe made from a very fine white clay. Clay pipes were considered of a lower quality. Those clay pipes that were not, were made in a labor-intensive process that required beating all air out of the clay; hand-rolling each pipe before molding it; piercing it with a fine copper wire to hollow out the stem; and then carefully firing the pipe. Frodo knew that clay pipes were traditionally un-glazed and they burned hot in comparison to those made from wood. Lesser quality clay pipes were also intended to be disposable after several uses and were sold cheap enough for those hobbits without means to be able to enjoy the smoking of pipeweed.

Frodo didn't know what to say as he gazed on this piece of family history that he now held in his hands with the utmost care. "I-I am to smoke with this?" he squeaked out. "It seems too priceless to use."

Bilbo shook his head of graying curls. "I was just about to get to that, Frodo. You are right; this is not a pipe to be used simply for the everyday enjoyment of pipeweed. I will teach you using a different pipe, same as my father did with me. Only once you are very proficient, will I allow you to smoke with this pipe--and only one time mind you--and using the finest pipeweed in the Shire. It has been family tradition to smoke this pipe only on very special occasions, such as a birth of one's child."

Bilbo's voice suddenly took on a wistful tone. "The last time I ever smoked this pipe was the day you were born, my lad, on my 78th birthday." The old hobbit then gave a most rueful chuckle. "I had a difficult time getting it back from Otho after my Adventure. It nearly took a direct missive from the Thain himself for him to give it back to its rightful owner."

Frodo laid the pipe back into its velvet nest with reverence. He stared down at the two remaining pipes in the case. "And these others?" he asked, growing more curious as his melancholy was forgotten for the meantime.

"Ah, yes!" Bilbo found himself growing more excited with anticipation. So far, this was all going much better than he had dared hope for. He prayed the next pipe would not upset Frodo too much. He gestured to it, where it lay beneath the Baggins' family pipe. "Do you not recognize that one, Frodo?"

The longer he stared at the second pipe in the case, the more familiar it looked to Frodo. It was carved from cherry wood and with a sudden clarity he envisioned a pair of hands tamping down the memorable-smelling pipeweed into the smooth bowl before lighting it. Frodo glanced up quickly at Bilbo, who sat watching in silence. Frodo returned his gaze to the study of the pipe. He saw in his mind's eye the pipeweed start to burn slowly.

A large hand shook out the flint while the other hand lifted the pipe upwards. Frodo could hear the long, deep breaths being taken, drawing the air and smoke through the long stem. He could smell the rich, pleasant scent of the familiar pipeweed--Old Toby it was, the finest pipeweed in the Shire. Frodo could hear a deep, hearty laugh ....

... and suddenly he was back in Bag End, sitting with Uncle Bilbo in the parlor. Frodo lifted a trembling hand and brushed his fingertips against the bowl of the pipe, tracing the grain of the cherry wood. The family crest of the Bagginses was etched into the wood, but the paint outlining it had been worn away long ago.

"I know this pipe ...." he whispered forlornly, his sadness once again coming to the foreground. "This was Dad's favorite pipe. He would smoke it every night after supper; he would sit in his chair while Mama would do her sewing and mending and I played on the rug in front of the hearth." Frodo let out a tight little half of a laugh. "When Dad finished smoking his pipe, I knew it was time for my bath ... and then off to bed with a story or two."

He looked up at Bilbo, tears in his eyes. "B-but Dad lost this pipe. Mama gave him another one for her birthday. They died the following year."

Bilbo rose from his chair and moved to sit down on the sofa next to his nephew. He placed a hand on the lad's shoulder in support. "Do you remember when you were taken home after your parents were laid to rest?" He asked in as gentle a manner as possible.

Frodo nodded. Even thirteen years later he could recall many details of that emotional day quite vividly.

Bilbo continued softly. "When your Uncle Rory and I were cleaning out your father's study, we found this pipe. It had fallen deep into a corner behind where his desk was. For some odd reason, I had remembered it was Drogo's favorite pipe ... and one he'd been given by his own father when he was your age. Old Rory said that I should keep it and give it to you on this day ... and so, here it is, dear boy."

Frodo was overwhelmed; he did not know what to say. He hadn't much of his father's personal belongings to remember him by, save for a few cufflinks and cravats. Nearly all of his parents' things were being held in storage in two of the locked mathom rooms at Brandy Hall and no one, save the Master of the Hall or Frodo accompanied by his guardian, were allowed to enter those rooms without express permission. All of the items in the mathom rooms would legally become Frodo's to do with as he pleased the day he came of age on his 33rd birthday.

Frodo wiped away the few tears that had strayed down his cheeks.

Bilbo placed an arm around his heir's shoulders, hugging him close. After several long minutes, he pointed to the third and final pipe in the case. "And what of this one, my lad? Do you know what this one is?" he asked, trying to restrain the sudden burst of excitement in his voice.

Tearing his eyes away from his father's pipe and his mind away from the bittersweet memories, Frodo examined the last pipe in the case. It was quite different from the other two, although it was made from briar wood as was the first pipe. The stem of this particular pipe was quite long--much longer than the other pipes in the case, who stems were also long, but a more respectable length. Such a long-stemmed pipe was only the sort found to be used by a very rich hobbit indeed ... and his uncle was one of the richest hobbits (if not the richest) to be found in the Shire. Some hobbits also believed that the longer the shank of the pipe--that is, the connection between the stem and bowl--the better the smoke.

He cocked his head, studying the pipe at a different angle, but the answer remained elusive. The only information he could glean from the unusual pipe was that it had been Bilbo's from the insignia etched into the scrollwork of the bowl and stem, and he stated as such to his uncle.

"You are quite right, Frodo my lad. This is one of my pipes but, it is a very special pipe to me and one that I want for you to have." Bilbo sighed, staring down at his former pipe. "There are very few hobbits who would understand the significance of this particular pipe ...."

Frodo frowned at his uncle's vague words. What significance could this pipe have played in Bilbo's life? As he examined the pipe closer, trying to figure out the mystery, he remembered suddenly the opening words of his uncle's tale of Adventure. 'By some curious chance one morning long ago in the quiet of the world ... I was standing at my door after breakfast smoking an enormous long wooden pipe ....'

" ... wooden pipe that reached nearly down to my woolly toes--which were neatly brushed, of course--when Gandalf came by*..." Bilbo's real voice intoned into Frodo's memories.

Frodo's eyes lit up and sparkled with sudden recognition. "Gandalf!" he exclaimed. "This is the pipe you were smoking when Gandalf called on you and you bid him, 'Good Morning!'"

Bilbo laughed, happy to see Frodo coming fully out of his melancholy mood at last, especially when the lad joined in his laughter. "Ah, I knew you would figure it out, Frodo! You are too bright and sharp a lad to let much slip by you. Yes, this in indeed the pipe I was smoking that began my Adventure with Gandalf and the Dwarves. You have always shown such spirit, my boy, that I want you to have it and no one else."

Bilbo removed the long-stemmed pipe from the case and handed it to his nephew before taking his own everyday pipe out of his pocket. His fingers touched upon the magic ring, also in his pocket, and he unconsciously gave it a quick rub.

Frodo accepted the pipe and the pouch of Longbottom Leaf that Bilbo also presented him with. He listened carefully to Bilbo's step-by-step instructions and followed his uncle's example as they both filled the bowls of their pipes with the leaf and lit them with a striker.

"It is good practice to get used to holding your pipe by the stem and not the bowl as you smoke it," Bilbo instructed. "Depending on the make of the pipe, the bowl can become uncomfortably hot while you smoke. Clay pipes, even of the highest quality, are especially prone to do this, so always be careful of your fingers, my dear boy."

Frodo studied the way his uncle held his pipe and imitated him perfectly. He gave a little smile as Bilbo nodded his approval.

"Now, pipe smoke is not usually inhaled, Frodo my lad. It is merely brought into the mouth and then released." Bilbo demonstrated the technique with an ease born of over seventy-five years' practice.

Once Frodo got the hang of smoking the leaf without inhaling it into his lungs or coughing on it, Bilbo even tried to teach him how to blow a smoke ring.

"It is normal to have to relight a pipe periodically, Frodo," Bilbo explained as he puffed out a spectacular smoke-ring. "If the pipeweed is smoked too slowly, this will happen more often. If it is smoked too quickly, then excess moisture can be produced. This can often make a gurgling sound in the pipe, but using a good pipe cleaner can be used to dry it out."

Whether it was due to the pipeweed or something else entirely, Frodo felt himself relaxing more and enjoying his first pipe with his uncle. If Dad could not be here to teach him, then he was glad that out of all his relations, it was Uncle Bilbo that now held the honor.

After they finished their smoke, Bilbo showed Frodo how to tap the embers of the spent leaf out of the bowl of the pipe and clean it thoroughly before putting it away. Frodo learned that he should clean his pipe with regularity as a cake of ash would eventually develop inside the bowl. Bilbo told him this was good for controlling the overall heat of the pipe, but if the layer became too thick, it needed to be scraped down in order to obtain a proper smoke.

Bilbo also gave him a short dissertation on how to maintain the various pipes so they would keep for many more years, along with how to choose the proper pipeweed. After placing Gandalf's pipe--as it was now known--back into its velvety berth, Frodo closed the lid of the box and placed it carefully on the end table next to the sofa before enveloping his beloved uncle in the most heartfelt of hugs he could muster.

"Thank you, Bilbo," Frodo whispered, choked with emotion. "I will treasure them always."

Bilbo patted his nephew's back lovingly, amazed at how quickly the years had passed and that his dear nephew was now almost fully-grown and would be of age before he knew it. When Frodo pulled away, he removed one final pipe from his pockets and pressed it into the tween's fine-boned hands.

"Another one? But you have given me too much already!" Frodo sputtered, flabbergasted.

"I know, Frodo-lad. Those pipes are all very fine ... but they are also all very special and as such, are not to be smoked often. I know that you will treasure them and take good care of them so they endure, but you will need a pipe for everyday smoking," Bilbo explained patiently.

Frodo gave a dubious look at the pipe he held in his hands. "Is there a story behind this one too?" he asked.

Bilbo gave him a sad smile this time, for this was the hardest story of them all for him to share with the boy. "Yes, there is. When Old Rory and I were going through the papers in your father's study, Saradoc happened upon the beginnings of a crude, unfinished pipe locked away in a desk drawer. At first we all thought Drogo was trying his hand at whittling himself a new pipe. Your father's sister, Dora, enlightened us however.

"Your father was so very happy and thrilled to have a son at last that soon after you were born, he began to make this pipe as your mother nursed you, having come across the wood during a business venture." Bilbo felt himself choke up as he spoke the next words. "He had once told Dora that it was never too early to start ... he wanted to give you a pipe on your 25th birthday that he himself made. This was the first pipe your father ever tried to make on his own."

Frodo felt his own tears threatening to fall once more and this time, it was he who placed an arm around Bilbo's shoulders, encouraging the old hobbit to continue his story.

"Since it was decided you were to stay at Brandy Hall for the time-being, Saradoc took the pipe with him and in his spare time, he finished whittling it. As you know, Merry soon came along and between raising you both and furthering his duties as future Master of Buckland, Saradoc never got around to completing the pipe. I'm sorry to tell you that he ... well, he forgot about it, Frodo-lad.

"During their Spring cleaning this year, Esmeralda came across it and she and Saradoc had it sent here with a letter of explanation and a request that I be the one to give it to you as your adoptive guardian. While you were off visiting your cousins in Buckland last month, I carved the Baggins seal into the bowl of the pipe and had it treated and enameled."

The pipe Frodo held was smaller than the others and had a shorter stem. As he examined it, he observed it to be a straight-grain pipe--the grain lines in the bowl of the pipe were even and parallel with one another, the mark of a pipe considered to be of the highest quality in terms of promising an excellent smoking pipe. The entire pipe was carved from cherry wood, his father's preferred choice when it came to pipes.

The mouthpiece of the stem was covered in a shiny blue enamel and the Baggins family crest was inlaid with gold and silver, etched into the round bowl. It was a fine pipe for everyday use and Frodo was very pleased that all of the father figures in his life had had a hand in making it.

"I know this day must have been very hard for you, Frodo. I know you wish it could have been your own father to gift you your first pipe and teach you the art of smoking it. I'm so sorry, my dear lad.

"I remember learning the first time from my own father long ago, and I cannot imagine what it must be like for you."

Frodo merely smiled and held Bilbo close. "It is all right, Uncle. I'm glad it was you ... and now I will have something to cherish that my father had a hand in making for me--all my fathers," he added shyly.

Bilbo just shook his head in amazement. Frodo was a very special hobbit indeed, the finest in all the Shire.

* * * * *

When Frodo and Bilbo sailed West with Gandalf and the Elves to the Undying Lands, the only pipe Frodo brought with him was his own father's cherry wood pipe. He left the others behind to his most dearest of friends and cousins.

On his 33rd birthday, Pippin Took received the pipe Bilbo had smoked over eighty years before at the round, green door of Bag End when he greeted Gandalf the Grey. The mysterious wrapped package containing the pipe had remained in the possession of the new Master of Bag End until that day, along with two notes: the first containing instructions when Sam was to give the pre-wrapped present to Pippin; the second, a note to Pippin explaining the pipe's history written in Frodo's own hand.

When Pippin had unwrapped the special pipe and read the note, he was grateful to now be the proud owner of a piece of Shire history. He duly smoked it in honor of his beloved cousins and the wizard, Gandalf, who had become a dear friend during days now long past. Before he left the Shire for one last trip to Gondor, Pippin in turn bequeathed the pipe to his first-born son, Faramir Took.

In another shakily written letter, Frodo had told Sam how dear he was to him and that as the new Master of Bag End, he should have a new (or rather old) pipe befitting of that title. Practical Samwise Gamgee had been without words when his wife, Rosie, presented him with a box Frodo had left behind for him, only to be opened after Sam was declared his sole heir. Inside the red velvet lined case that now bore Sam's initials was the centuries old Baggins' family pipe, handed all the way down from Balbo Baggins himself.

At first, Sam had tried to give the pipe to Porto Baggins, now family head of the dwindling family name. Sam had told Porto that he did not feel right owning what could possibly be the oldest heirloom of the Baggins clan.

Seventy-three year old Porto had only shook his head and easily handed the pipe back to Sam. "If Frodo meant for me to have this pipe, then he would have passed it along to me when I was bequeathed with the family headship. No Sam, Frodo meant for you to have this pipe. He felt that strongly about you he did."

Sam had only smoked the pipe twelve times before he sailed to join Frodo in the Elven lands--one for each hobbit child born since receiving the special heirloom. Sam in turn, bequeathed the Baggins' pipe to his own first-born son, Frodo-lad.

Lastly, the pipe Frodo had smoked on for many years--the one made by Drogo, Saradoc, and Bilbo--went to Merry Brandybuck. After enjoying one last smoke with Bilbo the eve before the Fellowship departed, Frodo had left the pipe behind with his uncle in Rivendell before taking up his quest to destroy the One Ring in the raging fires of Mount Doom in Mordor. He had not wanted such a very special piece of his life lost out in the wilderness. Once he remembered he'd had it, Bilbo gave it back to his nephew, but Frodo had never been able to smoke it again; his lungs were too damaged from the poisonous fumes of Mordor to ever be able to fully appreciate the joys of pipeweed ever again in the Shire.

He wanted Merry to have the pipe in remembrance of their fathers and uncle. During what was his last visit to Buckland (mainly to visit his foster guardians and his parents' graves) Frodo had left the pipe behind for Saradoc, Merry's father, to find with a note attached to it. When Merry had returned from seeing Frodo off at the Grey Havens, Saradoc had given the pipe to his son, sadly recounting the story of its creation to his son.

Merry had never smoked it. Instead, the pipe rested in a place of honor on his parlor mantel; he brought it with him whenever he visited Drogo and Primula Baggins' final resting place overlooking the Brandywine River atop a small hill**. He would sit, holding the pipe in his hands, and tell them all about their only child's bravery, unflagging spirit, and the most kindest heart he ever knew. When he left the Shire a final time with Pippin, Merry left the pipe behind on the cold stone of the silent grave.

~The End~

†From J.R.R. Tolkien's Letters, #214: Receiving of Gifts-- this was an ancient ritual connected with _kinship_. It was in origin a recognition of the byrding’s membership of a family or clan, and a commemoration of his formal incorporation. (anciently, this apparently took place shortly after birth, by the announcement of the name of the child to the family assembled, or in larger more elaborate communities to the titular head of the clan or family) No present was given by the father or mother to their children on the child’s birthdays (except in the rare cases of adoption); but the reputed head of the family was supposed to give something, if only in token.

*Paraphrased from J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit, Chapter 1: An Unexpected Party

** Refers to another tale of mine, 'Tending' posted at SoA.

Author's Note II: Much of the information on pipes and the smoking of them came from Wikipedia and also other various sources on the web, dealing with modern pipe-makers and pipe shoppes.