36. Waiting for the Bagginses

Brandy Hall, March 20, 1395

Poppy Puddifoot drained the washtub and wiped her hands on her apron just as a couple of shrieking Brandybuck hobbitlings raced through the kitchen and out the garden door.

"Mind where you're goin', lads!" she called after them half-heartedly, knowing they were already out of range. Brandy Hall was always chaotic, but working in its kitchens for nearly thirty years had taught Poppy to pay no mind to the commotion. The close quarters and the noise had never bothered her, for she'd grown up in a tiny farmhouse on the outskirts of Buckland with four sisters and five brothers. Poppy shook her head as a group of lasses clattered in the hall. The younger children had been especially wild the last week or so. She supposed all the excitement could be attributed to the young master's fast approaching birthday.

Little Meriadoc would be thirteen years old in a fortnight, and all of Buckland seemed ready to celebrate. Hobbits didn't normally throw large parties for their offspring at such a young age, but as Saradoc's son, Merry was in line to be master of Buckland one day. Poppy supposed it was only to be expected that the lad would enjoy a certain amount of privilege. Still, Merry was a sweet-natured child despite his burgeoning love of mischief, and she was fond of him. She only hoped he wouldn't become spoiled and arrogant as he grew old enough to understand his position.

"There's enough o' that to go round as it is," Poppy muttered to herself as she watched young Bolo Brandybuck stroll into the kitchen and grab a dinner roll from the basket without asking.

"I saw Alar lurking around the market today," the 30-year-old hobbit said with an insolent wink just before he bit into the roll. "You might catch him if you hurry."

"Those are fer supper, Mr. Bolo," Poppy said primly, refusing to be drawn into a discussion of her private affairs with the unpredictable tween. "There are plenty o' leftovers in the pantry if you're hungry."

Bolo took another bite of his ill-gotten dinner roll before sauntering off toward the pantry, and Poppy, shaking her head in exasperation, took up her knife and turned to the waiting pile of taters. Bolo no longer seemed interested in bullying the younger children as he had in years gone by, preferring now to keep mostly to his own sullen company, but he could certainly be infuriating when he wanted to be. The tweenager knew quite well that Poppy could ill afford to leave her work in the middle of the day; she needed her earnings to help support her parents and younger siblings away in Hardbottle. Never mind that Alar Goodchild was a kind, decent hobbit who had been trying to court her for the past year. Never mind that she was 53 years old and more than ready to settle down and start a family of her own.

Poppy had no free time to spend with Alar, especially lately with all the guests beginning to pour in for the birthday, and the shy farmer's patience would no doubt wear thin soon enough. She might very well miss her best chance for love and a home of her own and it was plain cruel of Bolo to remind her of it.

"Did you see anyone else of interest, Mr. Bolo?" Poppy couldn't resist calling as the tweenager emerged with an apple in each hand. "I hear Mr. Bilbo Baggins and his nephew are expected today."

Bolo scowled at her and left the kitchen without replying, and Poppy smirked to herself. It had been four years since Frodo had moved away, but she knew Bolo still disliked the younger boy intensely. Frodo had once been a frequent target of Bolo's cruelty, from the tender age of twelve, but in the end he had been the unwitting cause of Bolo's humiliation before the whole Brandybuck clan. Bolo always scowled whenever the name of Baggins was mentioned.

Frodo had always been a favourite with Poppy, however, and she was quite looking forward to the lad's visit. She had held a motherly affection for the blue-eyed hobbitling from the first time she had found him wandering Brandy Hall alone, lost and adrift on a sea of sadness after losing his parents and being brought to live with his Brandybuck relations. She had watched him grow increasingly quiet and withdrawn over the eleven years he had lived here, and she had been overjoyed when mad old Bilbo Baggins adopted Frodo and took him to Hobbiton.

Frodo had spent much of his time in this very kitchen, hiding from the older boys or simply wanting company. He was unfailingly polite and liked to help Poppy with her work, and the kitchen maid couldn't help but be charmed by the thoughtful little boy. She had missed Frodo when he went away, but she was glad Bilbo had taken him in. Bilbo might be cracked as folks often said, but he clearly loved Frodo as his own child; Poppy knew he would give the lad the attention and affection he lacked at Brandy Hall.

Poppy finished slicing the taters and slid them into the enormous pot of stew. She craned her neck to peer out the little round window that opened onto the garden. She knew she couldn't see the road from here, but the action was instinctive. Poppy sighed and began to stir the bubbling mixture. She really ought to know better than to presume Frodo would come to see her. Much would have changed in four years; Frodo would be about 26 now, and the lad would doubtless have better things to do with his time than visit a boring old kitchen maid whom he likely wouldn't even remember by now.

Merry had been one of Frodo's favourite cousins, and she had heard he was close to the recently arrived Paladin and Eglantine Took and their children; Frodo would have plenty of excitement to occupy him on this visit. Still, Poppy couldn't quite convince some part of herself that Frodo might not just come see her anyway. And if he didn't, she would try to get a look at him sometime; she wanted to see for herself that the little boy she had become so fond of was well cared for and happy.

Pyrimidine Brandybuck put down her needlework and looked seriously at the other lady. "I tell you, Iris, Esmeralda has the most dreadful taste in dresses."

Iris nodded emphatically, motioning out the window with her pointy nose. "Why, just look at her! No thought for her position at all. Disgraceful, really."

Pyrimidine peered out the window for a moment, watching as Esmeralda, in her plain work dress, walked through the vegetable garden listening attentively to two grubby farmers. "You know what I heard," she said knowingly to her companion.

Iris leaned forward, and Pyrimidine's small eyes brightened with anticipation. Gossip was her life's blood, and she relished the opportunity to dole out a particularly juicy tidbit as she chose. As Iris had only moved into Brandy Hall with her husband and children two years ago, there was plenty Pyrimidine could tell her.

"I heard that her father, old Adalgrim Took, didn't approve of the marriage," Pyrimidine said, lowering her voice. "In fact, it's said he never consented to see his grandson, and you know he died years back."

Iris frowned. "I thought Adalgrim passed on the same year Merry was born," she said. "He wouldn't have had much time to see the lad, if that were the case."

"Well," Pyrimidine huffed. "I'm only telling it as I heard it." She was prevented from further expression of her indignance by Bolo's appearance in the doorway. Her son's scowl deepened when he saw Iris and Pyrimidine deep in their inane chatter, but he came in nonetheless.

"When's Dad getting back, Mum?" Bolo asked sullenly, closing the door behind him.

"Next week, darling," Pyrimidine answered absently, returning her gaze to the window. "Did you see your cousin Esmeralda today? That dress she has on is dreadful."

Bolo rolled his eyes and continued to his bedroom without replying. Pyrimidine frowned in annoyance when he slammed the door.

Iris looked at Pyrimidine quizzically. "Bolo seems rather more... irritable than usual," she said tactfully.

Pyrimidine waved her off. "Bolo is a good boy," she said, picking up her needlework again. "I imagine he's just upset about that Baggins brat showing up today."

"Poor dear," Iris said sympathetically. "I've heard so many dreadful things about those Bagginses, especially Bilbo and Frodo. No wonder your Bolo had so much trouble with that child. It's a wonder Esmeralda allows her son anywhere near him!"

Pyrimidine nodded in agreement and looked outside again. Now she could see young Merry scampering about behind his mother. "It's a disgrace, is what it is," she said firmly. "I can't imagine why Saradoc allows it. My Gus is often away on business, as you know, but you can be sure he would never encourage Bolo to associate with such a child!"

"Oh, certainly not," Iris agreed. "Gustaroc is such a clever hobbit; I can't tell you how lucky you are to have him."

Pyrimidine smiled modestly. She knew her friend's husband was a dull fellow who liked his ale a little too much, but she was proud of herself for catching Gustaroc. She knew she was not smart like her husband, but her father was wealthy and so she had gotten what she wanted in the end.

"Bolo spent time with Frodo nonetheless, didn't he?" Iris continued.

"Why, Bolo was never anything but kind to Frodo, and how did that little beast repay him? He got him lost in the forest, is what. At night, no less! My poor darling might have died!" Pyrimidine was warming to her subject.

"Is it true, what they say?" Iris had turned serious. "About the boy's parents."

Pyrimidine looked at her friend with interest. "What have you heard, Iris, dear?"

"That he pushed her in, and she pulled him in after. When they drowned I mean."

"Oh, I feel quite sure it is," Pyrimidine said, nodding.

"But no one knows, do they?"

"No," Pyrimidine admitted reluctantly. "No one knows."

Esmeralda concluded her business with the gardeners and smiled when she saw Saradoc come out the garden door. Merry ran to hug him and then began capering about the garden, laughing in his excitement. "I'm going to find Pippin!" the boy shouted, and ran back inside at Esmeralda's nod.

"I could hardly keep up with him this morning," Saradoc said with a smile, coming to stand beside his wife.

Esmeralda laughed. "Well, I daresay it will all be over soon enough. Perhaps this will teach us not to give Merry a big party every year!"

Saradoc put his arm around her waist and they started to walk inside together. "Actually, I believe today's excitement is due to the impending arrival of a certain favourite cousin, my dear," he said, smiling.

"Oh yes, Frodo will be here today!" Esmeralda exclaimed. "I do hope he and Bilbo have held up all right; last I heard from Bilbo, they were planning to take a circuitous route and make an adventure of it."

"That certainly sounds like Bilbo," Saradoc mused. "I am looking forward to seeing them again. Especially Frodo. That boy has had a difficult time."

Esmeralda smiled up at her husband impishly. "Darling, you just want to congratulate yourself again on coming up with the idea of having Bilbo adopt the lad," she teased.

"Well, there is that," Saradoc said lightly, and Esmeralda laughed as he kissed her on the top of her curly head.

Meriadoc Brandybuck ran down the hall at full speed, heedless of the exasperated sighs of the adults he sidestepped. The soon-to-be birthday boy skidded to a halt in the doorway of the guest room that was his destination and paused. There were too many hobbits in the room for him to see immediately if his little cousin Pippin was present.

"He looks absolutely darling!" Pearl Took exclaimed in delight, and Merry began to suspect that Pippin was definitely present, and in dire need of rescue.

"Just like a little doll," Pimpernel agreed, and the girls giggled.

Merry tried to peer around the Took lasses and Eglantine to see if Pippin was indeed the subject of this distasteful discussion.

"Am not a doll," an irritated voice piped from the centre of the group.

"Your new waistcoat looks splendid, darling," Eglantine said, reaching forward automatically to still her son's little hands. "Don't pull! You'll pop that button right off."

"Why do I hafta wear this, Mama?" the voice had turned pleading.

"Now, sweetheart, we want you to look your best for your cousin Merry's birthday party," Eglantine said gaily. "Besides, you're a big boy now – five years old! – and big boys wear waistcoats."

Merry heard an unintelligible muttering from his unfortunate cousin and decided it was time to mount a rescue.

"Can I play with Pippin?" Merry asked, stepping into the room to address Eglantine.

The hobbit lady smiled wryly and ruffled Merry's light brown curls. "You go right ahead, dear," she said. "I think he's had quite enough of us for the moment. Come along, girls! We'll go wash up for dinner."

As his sisters and mother filed out, Pippin looked up and smiled happily at the sight of Merry. His green eyes sparkled as he pulled himself up from the floor. "Merry!" he cried, reaching out small chubby arms to his beloved cousin.

"Frodo's coming today, Pip!" Merry exclaimed jubilantly, rushing forward to seize the toddler's hands and whirl him around. "We're going to see Frodo!"

Peregrin Took's earnest little face creased with concentration. "What’s he look like, Merry?" he asked seriously when Merry had let him go and collapsed grinning to the floor.

"You’ve met him before, silly Took!" Merry chortled. "You used to call him 'Fwo'." The older lad rolled over and sat up. "Or sometimes 'Pretty'," he added with a smirk.

"'Pretty'!" Pippin repeated curiously. "Why, Merry?"

"I don't know, but I bet he'd like to ask you that himself," Merry said. "Don't you remember all the stories I've told you of Frodo? He's the one who made up all those games and taught me to nick apples from the pantry when no one's looking."

Pippin had become absorbed with the buttons on his tiny new waistcoat and didn't reply immediately.

"You want that off?" Merry asked, immediately guessing what was going through his little cousin's mind. "Here, I'll do it."

"I don't like buttons," Pippin announced as he let Merry brush his hands aside. The toddler watched contentedly as Merry undid all the buttons with the practiced ease of nearly thirteen years.

"You'll get used to 'em," Merry assured him. "But for now, we'll put this away and hope your mum doesn't notice. Let's go outside and wait for Frodo!"

Pippin nodded eagerly and jumped up, glad to be free of that maddening garment. "When's he coming?" the toddler asked, taking Merry's hand trustingly.

"Could be any time now," Merry said, leading his little cousin down the hallway toward the north entrance to Brandy Hall. "They're coming from Hobbiton, but I heard my dad say they'd be here by suppertime."

"Where's Hobbiton?" Pippin asked curiously as they stepped out into the midafternoon sunshine.

"Oh, it's far away," Merry replied.

"Past the stable?" The stables on the other side of the yard were the farthest away Pippin was allowed to stray from Brandy Hall in Merry's company.

"Far past the stable, Pip," Merry said with a grin. He settled on a tree stump at the side of the lane and pulled Pippin up beside him, eager for the arrival of his admired cousin.