13. No Yule Would Be Merry Without Pippin’ Hot Food

December 27, 1391

Frodo woke early the next morning to discover that it was “snowing taters and oatmeal,” as the saying went in Hobbiton. This was good news for young hobbits, of course, but Frodo was old enough to be concerned about his many relations on the road today.

Esmeralda, Saradoc, and Merry were due to arrive in a few hours from Buckland; and Paladin and Eglantine Took were expected with their four children as well, from Tookland. Frodo hoped the heavy snowfall wouldn’t slow any of them down.

Frodo got out of bed carefully, mindful of his healing bruises. He decided he could dress himself today, and he did, albeit at a slower rate than normal. He could hardly wait to see Merry again; it had been nearly a month since he had moved away from Brandy Hall. He was looking forward to seeing his Took relations, as well; he had not seen the future Thain or his wife, Eglantine, since their last visit to Brandy Hall. And he hadn’t seen Paladin’s and Eglantine’s children since his last visit to Great Smials, when he was very young.

There were three lasses and one lad now, Frodo had been given to understand. All were younger than him, the eldest being seventeen, and the boy was not even two years old yet, which was unfortunate. He could hardly expect the little Took lad to be very interesting. But no matter; there was still Merry. Frodo didn’t hold much expectation that the Took lasses would be any fun to play with, given that they were of the same gender as Daisy Gamgee. But Frodo was an optimistic lad, and he could hope at least that they were not given to incessant giggling.

Frodo completed his morning preparations in the bathroom, then walked to the kitchen. He noticed that he still held himself a little stiffly when walking, but being able to walk with reasonable ease was still a vast improvement over the agonizing locomotion he had endured the last few days.

Pushing the kitchen door open silently, Frodo paused on the threshold for a moment and smiled. He could see the snow still swirling outside through the small round window above the counter, but the kitchen was cozy and warm, with a fire crackling merrily on the hearth, and the lamp on the table burning brightly. Best of all, in the tweenager’s eyes, Bilbo was sitting at the table, smoking his pipe and studying one of those maps he had drawn for that mysterious book of his.

Several covered dishes rested on the table, but the plate in front of Bilbo looked unused. There was another place set at the table; next to Bilbo, at Frodo’s customary seat. Frodo continued to gaze silently at the scene before him for several long moments. Frodo was not a child to take things for granted; he cherished moments like this, when he was reminded how fortunate a hobbit he was to have Uncle Bilbo taking care of him.

Bilbo glanced at the door at that moment to see his young cousin standing in the doorway, and the old hobbit’s brown eyes lit up. “Frodo-lad!” he exclaimed. “It is good to see you up and about again. Come, I’ve kept your breakfast hot for you.”

Frodo smiled again and walked to the table, but instead of sitting down immediately, he reached over and hugged Uncle Bilbo.

Bilbo was caught by surprise, but he instinctively returned the hug. “Well, what brought this on, my dear boy?” Bilbo said, smiling into the cerulean blue eyes that were gazing up at him.

Frodo just smiled back and put his arms around Bilbo’s neck, hugging tightly. “Nothing special, Uncle,” the boy said softly, and took his own seat at the table.

The old hobbit reached over to squeeze Frodo’s hand. “I’m glad to see you too, lad,” he said gruffly.

Frodo grinned down at his plate, relieved that his uncle understood him, and Bilbo began lifting lids off serving dishes.

“Here we are, some nice fresh scones,” said Bilbo, helping Frodo to three. “And fried eggs with mushrooms, just the way you like them.”

A few hours later, two Men were sitting in their house, wondering what they should have for supper. Of course, these were no ordinary Men; they were Rangers of the North, wild and mysterious.

“Tell me again what we’re like, Ranger Frodomir!” said Ranger Samomir excitedly.

Ranger Frodomir grinned and shifted position in the hastily-erected snowhole. “Well, we’re awfully big, Ranger Samomir. Maybe twice as tall as your Gaffer!”

Samomir gasped in delight. “And our hair?” asked the breathless Man.

“Mmm... brown, I should think,” Ranger Frodomir said thoughtfully. “But it grows all over our faces, and it hangs down straight!”

“Straight,” repeated Ranger Samomir incredulously, running a grubby hand over his own smooth cheek. “I tell ye sir, if your Mr. Bilbo hadn’t told ye all this himself, I’d never’ve believed it!”

“Sam, you’re a Ranger,” Frodo whispered patiently.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” exclaimed Samomir. “Right then, Ranger Frodomir. Ye were sayin’ before that we live in... houses?”

“That’s right, Samomir,” said Frodomir with a smile, putting an arm around the younger Man’s shoulders. “We live in a big House, made of wood, and with two floors, one on top of the other.”

“One on top o’ the other?” breathed Samomir. “How does such a thing stay standin’?” Hobbits had been building structures aboveground for centuries, but in Hobbiton at least there were no buildings with two storeys.

“Well...” Frodo paused. He didn’t really know. Bilbo had only begun teaching him about Men in the last fortnight. Frodo only recalled a few things, such as that several of the Men who had featured prominently in the history he’d read had names ending in ‘mir.’ Of course, he didn’t want to spoil the game for Samwise, so he would have to invent a few things. “Magic.” Frodomir said finally. “We Men... ah... hire wizards to build our houses!”

Samomir’s eyes grew round with wonder. “This surely is a good game, Mr. Frodo. One o’ your best!”

“Thank you, Ranger Samomir,” Frodo said with a grin. “Now, shall we go hunting for our supper?”

“Oh, yes sir, Ranger Frodomir! What’ll we use? Bows and arrows?”

“Yes, I think so,” Frodomir said thoughtfully. He glanced around their little burrow for inspiration, finally scooping up a handful of snow. He made a snowball and handed it to Sam. “Here is your bow and arrow, Ranger Samomir,” the older lad intoned solemnly.

Samomir grinned and stood up, looking about for potential prey. No obvious targets presented themselves, and Samomir glanced down at his companion. “Who’ll play the part of our supper, Ranger Frodomir, sir?”

Frodomir got to his feet too, and looked around in disappointment. “Well, Halfred would be ideal, since I owe him one,” he said with a mischievous smile.

Samomir laughed. “He’s out with my Gaffer today, sir, an’ that’s a fact, I’m sorry to say. They’re readying stalls for your cousins’ ponies over in Farmer Cotton’s stable.”

“Ah well,” Frodomir sighed. “We’ll have plenty more hobbitlings to play with soon enough, I should think.”

Sam looked up at Frodo a little apprehensively. “Do... do ye reckon you’ll still want me hangin’ about when your cousins come, Mr. Frodo?”

Frodo glanced down at Sam in surprise. “Well, of course I do, Sam! I was hoping you’d stay and meet them. Especially Merry. I mean, if you want to, of course...” Frodo trailed off uncertainly. “If you’d rather go home, I don’t mind, truly.”

“I’d like ta stay if you’re sure it’s all right, sir,” Sam said, smiling shyly. “My mum knows where I am; she won’t be worried or nothin’.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Frodo said.

Samwise looked as if he didn’t quite believe Frodo would want him around once his cousins arrived, but he shrugged and smiled finally.

Frodo laughed and clambered stiffly over the wall of their snowhole. “Now let’s go inside! We can’t get any further in this game without something to hunt, so we might as well go in and get warm.” His half-healed bruises were starting to ache even though he was warmly dressed; and Bilbo had not given permission for any running about outside, only quiet play.

The children went inside and Bilbo fixed them some hot tea. All three sat comfortably in the warm sitting room. Bilbo had finished all the supper preparations, and everything was in the oven, ready to bake.

“Don’t worry, lad, they’ll be here soon,” Bilbo said with a smile when he saw his ward glance out the window at the softly falling snow for the eighth time.

“Yes, Uncle.” Frodo finished his tea and set the cup down on the floor, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. Sam was curled up at one end of the couch, gazing into the fire. It wasn’t often that Frodo and Bilbo could coax Sam to be at his ease inside Bag End, for although Hamfast had assured his youngest son that it was acceptable to sit with the masters when they invited him to, Sam still felt awkward in such situations.

The three hobbits had been sitting in companionable silence for some time when a loud knock at the front door startled them all. Frodo sat up with a grin, and Bilbo ruffled his dark curls affectionately as he went to answer the door. “That’s likely them, my boy,” Bilbo said cheerfully.

Frodo and Sam followed close behind, and Bilbo flung open the door to reveal a grinning pair of hobbits.

“Esmeralda! Saradoc! How delightful!” Bilbo cried, motioning them to come into the foyer.

Over Saradoc’s shoulder, Frodo could see the Gaffer and Halfred making ready to drive his relatives’ pony and sleigh off to the stables. Frodo hung back, feeling a little shy, until Saradoc lowered the blanket-wrapped bundle he’d been carrying; the corner of the blanket fell away, and Frodo’s nine-year-old cousin Merry was revealed.

“Frodo!” Merry exclaimed, struggling to disentangle himself. Esmeralda hurried to help the little boy out of his blankets and winter cloak, and then Merry rushed forward and hugged Frodo around the legs as the adults greeted each other.

“Merry!” Frodo said softly, and planted a kiss on the top of that curly brown head. “I can’t believe you’re truly here!”

Merry laughed delightedly and hopped up and down in his excitement, and then he noticed Samwise standing apologetically against the wall. “Who’s that, Frodo?” the child asked curiously.

Frodo smiled. “This is my friend, Samwise Gamgee,” he said. “Sam, this is Meriadoc Brandybuck.” Merry and Sam looked at each other, and Bilbo introduced Sam to Esmeralda and Saradoc, each of whom greeted the gardener’s son warmly.

Esmeralda came forward to hug Frodo tightly. “It’s wonderful to see you again, dear,” she said, but drew back in surprise when Frodo gasped in pain. “Frodo, are you all right?”

“Oh, yes, Aunt Esmeralda,” Frodo replied, wondering what he should say about his injuries. Esmeralda looked concerned.

Bilbo squeezed Frodo’s shoulder reassuringly. “I will tell you about it a little later,” the old hobbit said to Esmeralda and Saradoc. “Right, then, let’s get your things inside, eh?”

Saradoc went out to bring in the bags that Halfred had left by the door. Bilbo took a few and began leading the group toward the bedrooms.

“I have the small guest room ready for you, and Merry can stay with Frodo,” Bilbo said to Esmeralda and Saradoc. “I’m putting Paladin and Eglantine with little Peregrin in the middle guest room, and the three lasses in the large one, the old nursery.”

Merry clapped delightedly when it was announced that he would bunk with his adored older cousin, and the adults laughed and continued talking amongst themselves.

Merry continued to regard Samwise with interest, much to the latter’s discomfort. But the two lads were close in age, and Merry’s curiosity was quite natural.

“Why does Frodo call you ‘Sam’?” Merry asked as they trailed along behind Frodo.

“It’s short for Samwise,” Sam answered, then hesitated. “You can call me Sam, Mr. Meriadoc.”

Merry smiled brightly. “And you can call me Merry! How old are you, Sam?”

“I’m nearly twelve, Mr. Merry,” Sam replied.

“Oh. I’m only nine-and-a-half,” Merry said. “But Frodo’s real old; he’s twenty-three.” This elicited a snort from Frodo, walking just ahead of them, and a smile from Sam. “Where do you live, Sam?” went on the irrepressible Merry.

“Just down the hill, sir.”

“Will you come back and play with us tomorrow?” Merry asked hopefully.

“I will, if Mr. Frodo asks me to,” answered Sam, sounding a little surprised. In truth, he had expected a colder reception from Frodo’s Buckland playmate; his Gaffer had cautioned him that Frodo and his cousin would not want to include Sam in their fun.

“Oh, good!” exclaimed Merry. “We’ll have loads of fun! Frodo always thinks up good games.”

“Aye,” Sam admitted.

Frodo smiled to himself, listening to Merry and Sam’s conversation. He had been hoping the two of them would get along. He almost didn’t notice another knock sounding at the front door.

Bilbo grinned at Frodo. “Why don’t you answer the door this time, Frodo-lad?”

Frodo went back to the front door with Merry and Sam in tow. When he opened the door, he saw a jovial-looking gentlehobbit and a smiling lady, with three small lasses peering around the lady’s skirts.

“Well, well!” exclaimed the gentlehobbit, surveying Frodo with a twinkle in his eye. “This must be Frodo Baggins! I hardly knew you, you’ve gotten so big. I don’t think you’ve met little Peregrin, here.” He motioned to the small bundle his wife carried in her arms.

Frodo couldn’t help smiling at the cheerful couple. “Please come in,” he said. “Uncle Saradoc and Aunt Esmeralda have just arrived, and Uncle Bilbo’s showing them to their room.”

Paladin and Eglantine came in with their brood, and there was a flurry of activity as wraps were removed and hung up, Sam was introduced, and Merry was greeted. The three lasses, Pearl, Pimpernel, and Pervinca, were wild with excitement and chattering volubly, and Frodo found himself thinking it was very fortunate that the old nursery where they would be staying was halfway across Bag End from his own room.

Bilbo, Saradoc, and Esmeralda returned to the foyer in time to take part in the excitement, and greetings and introductions echoed through the halls of Bag End once again. Everyone was shown to their rooms, all bags were put in the appropriate places, and the chattering crowd of hobbits adjourned to the parlour. Hamson came to the door then, to take Sam home for supper.

“Thank you for staying so long,” Frodo said. “And I do hope you’ll come back and play with us tomorrow, Sam.”

“I will, Mr. Frodo, if my Gaffer doesn’t need me at home,” Sam answered, looking pleased, and departed with his eldest brother.

Frodo closed the door and went back to the parlour. Merry was sitting on Saradoc’s knee; Bilbo was in an armchair near the hearth.

“Esmeralda insisted on getting supper set up,” Bilbo said when he saw Frodo. “She’ll be ready for us in a few minutes.”

Frodo nodded and settled on the footstool in front of Bilbo’s chair to try and listen to the conversation. The lad was soon distracted, however, by the sight of Eglantine, across the room, setting little Peregrin down on the floor.

“He likes to be put down so he can run about,” Eglantine explained with a laugh. “He can walk, but he finds crawling much more to his liking.” And sure enough, the baby began to crawl along the floor at an alarming speed. Frodo watched with interest. He only vaguely remembered when Merry had been this young.

Peregrin paused near one of his sisters and began fingering the lace on her dress. “Pretty,” he murmured. When he had found out all he could with his fingers, the baby opened his mouth wide and prepared to gather more information. Before Peregrin could quite get that fascinating bit of lace into his mouth, Pimpernel laughed and kissed the giggling child’s curly head, then set him back down on the floor and aimed him toward Bilbo and Frodo.

Peregrin seemed to take the change in stride and was soon motoring rapidly across the room. He stopped directly in front of Frodo and looked up at his cousin with wide green eyes.

“Hullo, baby,” Frodo said softly. He reached down cautiously and picked Peregrin up, settling him comfortably on his lap. The baby and Frodo studied each other for a few moments. Frodo marvelled at the tiny pink mouth, now falling open in concentration, the green eyes that seemed to shine with intelligence, and the silky light brown curls that were already long enough to hang over small, delicately pointed ears.

Peregrin’s eyes roamed all over Frodo’s face, and he reached one chubby hand forward to slide lightly over Frodo’s forehead and nose. “Pretty,” the baby said again, and the adults laughed. Frodo looked up to see that everyone else had stopped their conversation to watch.

He felt Bilbo, still seated behind him, reach out and squeeze his shoulder. “He seems to like you, Frodo-lad,” said Bilbo with a chuckle.

“Yes, Uncle,” Frodo replied, and smiled at the baby on his lap. “I think I should teach you some new words though, what do you say, Peregrin?”

Peregrin giggled and tried to grab a lock of Frodo’s curly hair.