15. Applesauce

Bilbo was sitting comfortably with Saradoc, Esmeralda, Paladin, and Eglantine in the sitting room.  Frodo, Merry, and Sam had gone off to Frodo’s room to play perhaps half an hour ago. Eglantine had cajoled them into minding Peregrin for awhile, and Bilbo wondered idly what three small lads plus an infant might find to amuse themselves. Pearl, Pimpernel, and Pervinca had withdrawn to their room, leaving only the adults.

“It is wonderful to see him like this,” Esmeralda was saying.

“Indeed?” said Bilbo, perplexed. They were talking about Frodo; Bilbo had been telling his cousins about the incident with Lotho, and his concern over Frodo’s adjustment to living in Hobbiton.

“Truly, Bilbo,” said Saradoc. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the lad so happy. You’ve clearly been wonderful for him, just as I said you would be.”

“I am glad to hear you say that,” Bilbo said, smiling sadly. “It was not so, for awhile there.”

Eglantine leaned forward and placed a hand over Bilbo’s, her cheerful face etched with concern. “Now really, Bilbo, from what you’ve told us, I’d say you’ve handled things just fine.”

Bilbo sighed and looked down. “I cannot bear the thought that I allowed those beastly S.-B.’s to torment the poor boy. And then I didn’t even notice.  I really wondered if I was up to the task, if I hadn’t been too presumptuous in bringing Frodo to live with me.”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Paladin. “You’ve done very well by him. And as for any difficulties the two of you encounter, I would venture to say that the love you bear each other will see things through, as it did in this case.”

Esmeralda smiled at her old friend. “Truly, you have nothing to fear,” she said softly. “You have our full confidence-” Esmeralda gestured to the other hobbits in the room, all of whom nodded in agreement, “-and what’s more, you had Drogo’s and Primula’s,” she finished quietly.

“Thank you,” the old hobbit said sincerely. “That means a great deal to me. There are still those, I fear, who think me a senile old fool, for proposing to raise a tweenager.”

Paladin laughed. “Since when have such folks mattered?” he asked cheerfully. “You’ve always done what you thought best, and never mind what others thought, and I for one have always admired you for it.”

“And I!” said Eglantine jovially. “We may not share your sense of adventure, Bilbo Baggins, but you may rest assured we know you’re no fool.”

Bilbo couldn’t help smiling; these four hobbits were some of his favourite cousins, and really the only adult relations he had who didn’t think he was cracked.

“Oh, this has been a merry Yule,” said Esmeralda warmly. She lifted the teapot that had been sitting on a side table. “Now who wants more tea?”

Several minutes later, three small hobbit lads and one babe were sitting on the kitchen floor, beneath the kitchen table in fact. It had been decided by mutual consensus that hiding under the table might lend itself to a really excellent game, and the children were loathe to simply fetch the applesauce without getting a bit of fun out of it.

All four were quiet for awhile, listening to the drone of adult voices in the adjacent sitting room. Well, three were quiet and listening. The fourth was enjoying a taste of Merry’s trouser leg hem.

“Let’s sneak into the cellar and get the applesauce!” Frodo proposed in a whisper.

“Sneak?” whispered Merry with a frown. “Why? Uncle Bilbo said we could have it!”

“Yes, but it’ll be more fun if we sneak!” insisted Frodo.

Merry grinned suddenly, his brown eyes lighting up. “Oh, goody! What do you say, Sam?”

“I’m with ye,” whispered Sam, smiling shyly.

“Right then,” Frodo whispered. “What shall we play at?”

“Let’s be Men!” suggested Merry, wriggling in excitement. “Or Elves!” Merry was still taken with the real life adventure Frodo had experienced last spring, when he had been lost in the Buckland woods and gotten rescued by a Man and two Elves.

“Hmm... what do you think, Sam?” Frodo asked.

Samwise dropped his eyes and declined to state a preference, but Frodo smiled quietly, blue eyes dancing as he looked at the plainly-dressed hobbit lad crouched beside him. Frodo knew quite well of Sam’s fascination with the fair folk.

“Elves it is, then,” Frodo decided. Merry nodded enthusiastically, and Sam clapped both pudgy brown hands over his own mouth to muffle a delighted giggle. “We must descend into the – ah – Dwarf stronghold, and bring back a jar of... emeralds.”

“The applesauce, Frodo?” whispered Merry, and Frodo nodded.

The three young elves made their way swiftly and silently across the kitchen, with Frodo carrying Peregrin. They entered the smaller pantry and crept stealthily down the long passageway to the cellar. Frodo felt around for the lamp and soon had it lit.

“Now we’re in the Dwarfish cavern, lads,” Frodo whispered. “Look for the emeralds, quickly, before the Dwarves come back!”

Sam shivered in delight and began looking at each jar on the shelves. Merry searched too, while Frodo struggled to keep his hair out of Peregrin’s tiny fists.

“This looks like the... emeralds, sir!” Sam finally said in a whisper.

Frodo took down the jar and examined the label. The contents of the jar certainly looked like applesauce, but the label said “Rushock Gold?” Merry frowned in puzzlement, but Sam’s eyes lit up in recognition.

“That’s a kind of apple, sir!” Sam whispered. “My Gaffer taught me all the different kinds!”

“What’s this other one?” Frodo asked curiously, noticing another, similar-looking jar on the same shelf. “Marish Pippin,” he read aloud.

“A pippin is another kind of apple, sir,” Sam said. “That one must ‘a come from over in Marish.”

“We’ll take them both,” Frodo decided. “We can try each one. We’ll just have to be sure we leave plenty for the lasses.”

The three elves took their loot and crept back to Frodo’s room.  As soon as they were out again in the light of the kitchen, they could see that the two types of applesauce looked slightly different; the Rushock Gold was lighter in colour.

Once they were seated on the floor of Frodo’s room again, and Merry had nearly opened one of the jars, Frodo realized what they had forgotten. “Dishes and spoons!” he said in exasperation.

“I’ll go, sir,” Samwise offered, but Frodo shook his curly head.

“Thank you, Sam, but you don’t know where everything is. We’ll all go,” Frodo decided. “But let’s leave Peregrin here; he’ll be all right for a minute.”

Frodo laid the baby gently on the blue rug in the centre of the floor, and the three lads hurried back to the kitchen. They had forgotten their silent Elf game by this point, which was perhaps fortunate because it would have been very difficult for three hobbitlings to get out dishes and spoons without a few clatters and giggles.

After more than two days in a smial full of young children, the adults in the sitting room took no notice of the disruption, and the lads made it back to Frodo’s room without mishap.

“Oh, no!” exclaimed Merry, who happened to be first through the door.

“What is it, Merry-lad?” Frodo said, coming in behind him. “Oh, no!” the oldest lad gasped in dismay.

Sam squeezed in behind Frodo, and his hazel eyes widened at the sight before him. Peregrin Took was lying on Frodo’s rug right where they’d left him, but one of the jars of applesauce was open beside him. Most of the contents appeared to be coating the young Took’s face, hands, and hair, but some of it must have got inside him, for the baby was licking his tiny pink upper lip in satisfaction.

No one said anything for a very long time, even when a gurgling Peregrin crawled over to the group of astonished lads by the door. “Good!” the baby said, looking up at Frodo with shining green eyes.

“I’ll bet it was!” said a bemused Frodo.

Sam bent down to examine the remaining contents of the nearly empty jar. “It looks like Mr. Peregrin is a pippin eater,” the gardener’s son commented.

“That was the jar I started opening,” Merry said sadly.

“Do you think Master Bilbo will be very angry, sir?” Sam asked Frodo apprehensively.

Frodo smiled slightly. “No, I do not think he will be angry, Samwise. I imagine they’ll all have a good laugh at our expense, though.”

“Well, that can’t be helped,” Merry said matter-of-factly. “And at least we still have the other jar, though I expect we’ll have to share it with the lasses.”

Everyone’s face fell at this thought. Well, everyone’s except Peregrin’s. The baby was still giggling and grasping at the hem of Frodo’s trousers with sticky hands.

Frodo sighed and bent to pick Peregrin up. “Let’s take him to the bathroom and clean him up a bit, anyway,” Frodo said.

“Well, one good thing came of this!” Merry said suddenly. The other two looked at him questioningly, and Merry smiled. “Sam came up with a fine pet name for Peregrin!”

“Mr. Merry, I never-” Sam exclaimed.

“‘Pippin’ is much better than ‘slime creature of doom,’ wouldn’t you say, Sam?” Merry continued cheerfully. Sam went very red.

“Far more suitable,” Frodo agreed. “Perhaps ‘slime creature of doom’ is more descriptive, but at least we can say ‘Pippin’ in front of his parents! What do you say, Sam?” Frodo grinned at his friend mischievously.

“Aye, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said, with a reluctant smile. He knew when to surrender gracefully, he did. “How do you do, Mr. Pippin?” Sam said self-consciously, bowing to the baby and making the other two laugh in delight. Pippin squealed and tried to grab Sam’s hair.

“See?” said Merry. “He likes it!”