3. A Gamgee Interlude

The week before Yule proceeded smoothly. Bag End was now mostly decorated with cedar, mistletoe, holly, and bright red ribbons, and its two occupants turned their full attention to the baking. Every day now the musty old halls were filled with the delicious aroma of baking bread and pastries, candies and cookies, and Frodo soon forgot his anxieties about Bilbo in the whirlwind of activity. The old hobbit needed a great deal of help preparing for the arrival of all their guests, and he kept his young ward too busy to worry about much of anything at all.

The last few days before Yule fairly flew by, marked only by several notable events. For one thing, Frodo, while looking for the flour pantry, mistakenly went into the wine cellar and was delighted to discover that the cramped room made an even better Dwarf-mine than his clothes cupboard did. He’d shown the place to Samwise that very afternoon, and they had passed several happy hours playing in there.

Frodo and Samwise were rapidly becoming good friends. Frodo had to work constantly to overcome Sam’s shyness at having a gentlehobbit for a playmate, but it was well worth the effort. Sam had an active imagination and was an eager participant in Frodo’s imaginary adventures; indeed, he was a little older than Merry and better equipped to actively contribute to their games, much to Frodo’s delight.

Another incident that week that stood out in Frodo’s mind was his first visit to Number 3, Bagshot Row: the Gamgees’ hole. It was an event that Frodo would recall years later, with a twinkle of amusement, as one of the most bewildering encounters of his early days at Bag End.

Bilbo and Frodo were preparing to make ginger cookies that afternoon, and Bilbo discovered they were short of sugar.

“Run down to the Gamgees’ and borrow half a pound of sugar, would you, Frodo-lad?” Bilbo said distractedly.

“Of course, Uncle,” Frodo said immediately, and slid off the stool where he had been perched, rolling out dough all morning. He put on his heavy brown winter cloak and went outside. It hadn’t snowed in over a week, but there was a good inch of snow still on the ground, thanks to the uncommonly low temperatures. Frodo patted the head of his snow-hobbit as he passed, happy to note that the sculpture had hardly melted at all since yesterday.

The path down the hill had been cleared days ago, but Frodo preferred to walk alongside, in the crispy layer of snow, for he enjoyed the crunching under his feet.

Soon he was at Bagshot Row. Frodo quickly spotted Number 3. He marched up to the round yellow door and raised his hand to knock, hesitating briefly. He had the distinct impression that the Gaffer didn’t quite approve of him, although certainly none of the Gamgees had yet shown him anything but kindness. He hadn’t met Sam’s second-eldest brother, Halfred, yet, or any of his sisters, and Frodo’s natural curiosity made him eager to see more of his friend’s family.

Frodo finally knocked on the door and waited. He heard noises within, and feminine voices, and then the door was opening. Frodo was surprised to see a lass a few years younger than him standing on the threshold. This must be Daisy, Sam’s eldest sister. Frodo didn’t have much experience with girls, none of his female cousins at Brandy Hall being close to him in age, and he felt suddenly shy, especially with the way Daisy was staring at him.

“Er... how do you do?” he said finally. “I’m Frodo Baggins and my uncle sent me to borrow some sugar.”

Daisy blinked her wide brown eyes, smiled slowly, and giggled.

Frodo was feeling quite uncomfortable now, and he shifted from one foot to the other. Why did lasses have to behave so oddly? He frowned in consternation and tried again.

“Are you Daisy Gamgee?” he inquired politely.

Daisy nodded at him and giggled again. She was still standing in the doorway and made no move to invite Frodo inside. The unfortunate lad had reached the end of his rope, but he was rescued by another voice from inside the smial.

“Daisy-lass!” called a lady’s voice. “Who’s that at the door?”

Daisy finally turned her unnerving gaze away from Frodo and looked back inside. “It’s Mr. Frodo at the door, Mum!” she cried.

“Well, invite him in then, you silly girl!”

Daisy turned back to Frodo and giggled again. Frodo blinked in bewilderment.

“Won’t you come in, Mr. Frodo?” Daisy said then. She stepped back from the door, keeping her glassy-eyed stare fixed on Frodo. Frodo followed her inside, blushing furiously, and found himself in a warm kitchen. Two more lasses, perhaps fifteen and eight years old, were sitting at the scrubbed wooden table peeling potatoes, and a lady was standing by the stove, stirring an enormous pot.

“Well, good afternoon to ye, Mr. Frodo!” the lady exclaimed cheerfully. “I’m Bell Gamgee, and these are May and little Marigold,” she gestured to the girls at the table. “I’m afraid the lads are all out helping their dad this afternoon.” All four Gamgee females had honey-coloured hair and brown eyes, like Sam. Marigold went on rolling potatoes enthusiastically over to her sister for peeling, but May looked up and smiled shyly at Frodo.

“That’s all right, Mrs. Gamgee,” Frodo replied, relieved to have someone sensible to talk to. “Uncle Bilbo just sent me down to ask if we could borrow a half-pound of sugar from you.”

“Why, of course, Mr. Frodo!” Mrs. Gamgee said. “Daisy-lass, get your head out of the clouds and fetch that bag we opened yesterday.”

Daisy darted into the pantry and reappeared a moment later with a half-full one-pound sack of sugar, which she handed to Frodo with a brilliant smile. Frodo thanked Mrs. Gamgee and quickly made his escape. When he was safely outside in the snow again, he heard female voices break out into chatter again, through the closed door.

“Isn’t he handsome, Mum?” cried Daisy’s voice, followed by a chorus of giggles. Frodo wondered if the snow was deep enough that he could bury himself and not reappear until spring. He turned quickly to go, afraid of hearing any more.

“Don’t let your dad hear you talking like that, lass!” scolded Mrs. Gamgee’s voice before Frodo was quite out of range. “Honestly! He seems a fine lad, but don’t you go gettin’ silly ideas in that head of yours, Daisy Gamgee. If you must moon about over somebody, you’d best go back to thinking of Hobby Twofoot. That’s less likely to cause trouble.”

“Did you ever see eyes so blue?” went on the indomitable Daisy. “Like the summer sky, they were!” More giggling.

Frodo was sure his face was beet red. He clutched his sack of flour and fled up the hill as if a dragon was hot on his heels.