4. Winter Fun

December 23, 1391

The beginning of Yule was only two days away, and the arrival of a horde of guests was four days away. These considerations made the atmosphere of Bag End rather tense. Bilbo was anxious and distracted, trying to ready the smial for so many visitors, and Frodo, being a sensitive little soul, felt the tension keenly.

Frodo was currently tidying up after luncheon. Bilbo had wanted to make a start on cleaning the guest rooms and had left his young cousin in charge of the kitchen. Frodo scrubbed the last plate and rinsed it carefully in the washbasin. He glanced around for a towel to dry the dishes and spotted one sitting on the table against the far wall. Frodo sighed and decided he might as well carry the whole stack over there and sit at the table while he dried.

Frodo wrapped his arms carefully around the entire stack of plates and lifted, awkward because his arms were not long enough, and the dishes were heavy and still wet from their recent washing. Frodo curled his fingers under the bottom plate to help maintain his grip on the slippery stack clutched against his chest, and set off for the other side of the kitchen.

He reached the table, breathing rapidly with his heavy load, and bent to set the stack of dishes down next to the towel. Frodo carefully shifted his fingertips away from the bottom plate so they wouldn’t get pinched against the table, and to his horror the entire stack slipped out of his grasp and went crashing to the floor.

Frodo leaped back with a cry of alarm, just in time to avoid having his bare feet cut by hundreds of sharp fragments. Frodo surveyed the mess in dismay, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. What would Uncle Bilbo say? Here he was doing his best to not be a bother, and now he had gone and broken nine of his uncle’s dishes!

Bilbo appeared in the doorway a moment later. “Frodo-lad!” he exclaimed. “I heard such a crash! What happened?”

“I-I’m sorry, Uncle,” Frodo said, turning to face Bilbo. “I broke all the dishes! I didn’t mean to, truly!”

“Of course you didn’t, dear boy,” said Bilbo, hurrying forward and grasping Frodo by the shoulders, peering into the pale face. “Are you hurt? Did you get cut at all?”

“No, I’m fine,” Frodo answered. Bilbo seemed more distracted than angry, but the stress and anxiety that clouded the old hobbit’s features caused the knot of tension in Frodo’s stomach to tighten. Bilbo had much to do and Frodo’s clumsiness had added to his worries.

“All right then,” said Bilbo with a sigh, straightening up. “I’ll have to clean up this lot. Why don’t you walk into town and get us some more of that holly, Frodo? The parlour mantel is a little bare.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Frodo said hollowly. He knew he was in the way. No doubt Bilbo wished he could send his troublesome nephew back to Brandy Hall, but sending him into town was the easiest thing he could do under the circumstances.

Frodo tried to shake off his melancholy mood as he went to get his cloak. Surely a walk to town would distract him from his worries. And he hadn’t seen Samwise in a few days. Maybe he would see his friend on the way to town, or some of the other Gamgee children. Frodo was fond of the Gamgees, although there was one brother he hadn’t met yet: Halfred, the second eldest. Halfred was only a couple of months younger than Frodo; Sam had said wasn’t as serious as Hamson, and often got into scrapes with his mischief. Frodo was looking forward to meeting him.

As Frodo put on his cloak and opened the front door, Bilbo was still in the kitchen, cleaning up the broken dishes and thinking distractedly of what he had yet to do to prepare the guest rooms. He never heard his nephew’s distressed sigh as the front door closed softly.

Samwise Gamgee settled back in the snow and listened to the others arguing.

“I still think we should check on the tree house,” said Hobby Twofoot. “That snowfall last night might’ve caved in the roof!” Hobby was twenty years old and lived in Number 2, Bagshot Row.

“Naw, I’m sure it’s fine,” said Halfred impatiently, and turned to a little boy with messy brown hair. “What do you think, Sappy?”

“I still wanna build a snow hobbit!” proclaimed Hobby’s little brother. Sam idly formed the snow under his hands into a ball. It had a lot of grass mixed in, because there was less than an inch of snow on the ground, but that didn’t matter.

“You always wanna build a snow hobbit,” retorted Hobby. “Come on, we worked hard on that tree house! We oughta make sure it’s all right!”

“It was fine after the last snowfall, and that was a sight bigger than the one we had last night,” Halfred said reasonably. “Now let’s think of something fun to do! It’s not every day I get the whole afternoon to play.” Sam shifted the snow ball from his left hand to his right, eyeing his older brother with a most peculiar gleam in his eye.

“Snow hobbit!” screeched Sappy, stamping impatiently. Sam frowned in disapproval. He didn’t think a sixteen-year-old ought to be throwing tantrums. It was said that the Gamgee’s neighbour, Daddy Twofoot, let his boys run wild and never taught them any manners.

“Calm down, Sappy-lad,” said Halfred irritably. Sappy glared. Samwise knew just how to diffuse the tension, and let fly with the snowball he’d been clutching these last few minutes. His aim was flawless, and Halfred Gamgee received a cold handful of snow on the back of his neck.

Halfred whirled around, gasping as the snow slid down the back of his shirt. “Why, Sam Gamgee, you rascal!” Sam giggled and sprang to his feet, darting down the hill with Halfred in hot pursuit. Hobby and Sappy joined in the merry chase, and soon all four lads were engaged in a rousing snowball fight.

Some time later, the combatants collapsed in the snow beside the path up to Bag End, panting and gasping for air.

“Well!” said Halfred at length. “I think Sam-lad had the best idea of all of us!” He ruffled Sam’s curls affectionately. Sam grinned.

Hobby roused himself with a shake and got to his feet. “I’m gonna check on the tree house now! Are you comin’ Sappy?”

“Naw,” said Sappy without opening his eyes. “Hal thinks it’s fine. I’m stayin’ here.”

“I’ll be back in a minute, then,” Hobby said with a shrug. The other three boys watched him head off. He had to walk up the path to Bag End a ways and then cut across to get to the other side of the Hill, where the tree house had been built last summer.

As soon as Hobby was out of sight, Halfred rolled over onto his stomach and grinned mischievously at the other two. “What say we give old Hobby a surprise when he comes back, eh lads?”

Samwise and Sappy sat up eagerly, and Halfred outlined a plan to hide out of sight on both sides of the path and prepare a snowball ambush for Hobby. The younger lads agreed readily, and Halfred stationed them in convenient positions. An unnatural silence soon fell over the snow-covered path, and the three boys laid in wait for their returning playmate.

After a few minutes, all three distinctly heard the crunch of footsteps upon the path, coming down the hill towards them. Sam held his breath, clenching his fist in his excitement. He looked down in dismay to see that he had crumbled the carefully-prepared snowball he’d been holding. Before he had the chance to make another one, he heard Halfred sit up beside him and throw his own snowball.

“Hal, you ninny!” cried Sappy’s voice from across the path. “That ain’t Hobby!”

Sam sat up and looked toward the path. “Mr. Frodo!” he gasped in dismay. The bewildered young gentlehobbit was standing in the path, coughing and sputtering, and trying to rid himself of the face full of snow he had received courtesy of Halfred. He didn’t know if Frodo would be angry, but the Gaffer would be furious if he heard that his sons had shown his master’s heir such disrespect.

Sam turned to look at Halfred and saw that his brother’s face had drained of colour, clearly thinking the same thing. The older lad stood up quickly and hurried over to Frodo.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Frodo!” exclaimed Halfred. “I thought you were someone else! Here, let me help you.” He grasped Frodo’s shoulder and carefully wiped the other boy’s face with the end of his scarf.

As soon as Sam got over his shock, he jumped up and ran over to Frodo. “Are you all right, Mr. Frodo?” he asked.

“No harm done,” Frodo replied, rubbing his eyes and finally getting a clear view of Halfred. “Ah! You must be Halfred Gamgee!”

“At your service, Mr. Frodo,” Halfred said sheepishly. Sam was glad to see Frodo smile at Halfred.

“I’m glad to finally meet you,” Frodo said. “I was just walking into town. Would any of you like to come along?”

“Thank you, Mr. Frodo, but we promised our mum we’d stay close in case she should need us,” Halfred answered for himself and Sam. Sappy said nothing. He was still crouching in his hiding place, too awed by the sight of mysterious old Mr. Bilbo’s heir to want to come out.

“Well, good day then,” Frodo said. “I’ll see you later anyway, I’m sure, Sam.”

“I really am sorry about the ambush, Mr. Frodo,” Halfred put in hastily. His face was no longer white with alarm, but it was rapidly turning a most interesting shade of red, as embarrassment set in.

“Please don’t worry about it,” Frodo said sincerely. “I was just surprised, is all.” He smiled slightly as he continued to look at Halfred. “And really, I must congratulate you on your excellent aim!” he added, blue eyes twinkling.

Sam snorted with laughter. There wasn’t a kinder hobbit than Mr. Frodo, he was sure. Sappy giggled from his hiding place, and Halfred couldn’t help smiling through his embarrassment. After a cordial parting, Frodo continued on his way down the hill, and the other three lads sat down to wait for Hobby, forgetting the planned ambush by mutual consensus.

“Sam-lad,” Halfred said hesitantly. “You’ve known Mr. Frodo a few weeks now. D’you think he’ll make any trouble for our Gaffer, with Master Bilbo?”

“No!” Sam exclaimed, looking at his brother in surprise. “Mr. Frodo wouldn’t ever do such a thing, Hal!”

“I had to ask,” Halfred said with a relieved sigh. “He did seem like a nice lad.”

Sam nodded in agreement, and Halfred grinned suddenly. “Daisy was right, though.”

“What about?” Sam asked suspiciously. His eldest sister was one of the silliest girls he knew.

“Mr. Frodo does have uncommonly blue eyes.” Halfred kept a straight face for a moment longer, then burst into laughter. Sam joined right in; he was terribly fond of Frodo, but who in their right mind cared about the colour of someone’s eyes? Hobby returned then with the happy news that their tree house was in excellent condition, and the snowball fight was begun anew.

Unfortunately, the fun came to an abrupt end a few minutes later when Bell Gamgee came out of Number 3, Bagshot Row, and instructed Hal to go into town and take several boxes of her Yule tarts to the baker’s shop to be sold. Sam decided to tag along, knowing he might meet Frodo in town, and the two brothers set off.