March 14 Challenge:

Write a story or create a piece of art centred on freedom of religion (or lack thereof), heresy, and/or religious rites.

A Question of Gratitude

“Thank you for an excellent meal, Cousin Bilbo.”

“You are most welcome, Dora,” Bilbo gave a gracious nod.  He glanced at the mantle clock in the dining room.  “I fear that the hour is later than usual; the Sun will have gone down.”

“I will walk Aunt Dora home, Uncle Bilbo,” said Frodo.

Dora looked pleased.  “Why thank you, Frodo, dear!  I would appreciate that very much.”

Dora sat in the front hall, while Frodo quickly helped Bilbo clear the table, after which he would walk her down the Hill to her own hole.  It had been a very pleasant meal.  Whatever Cousin Bilbo’s other faults might be, one could never fault his hospitality.  He laid a most generous and well-appointed table.

The conversation, on the other hand, could be Quite Disturbing.

They had been speaking, as was only Proper, about the food.  Bilbo had prepared some lovely stuffed mushrooms, and there had been lamb chops and garden peas with tiny new potatoes, freshly baked bread and butter, a light soup of vegetables and noodles, for afters, a strawberry fool, and a platter of cheeses for Filling Up the Corners.  Dora had spoken as she sometimes did, of the Respect and Gratitude one should show for the food.  It was a commonplace sort of thing to say, often reiterated, and never before had she expected anyone to take especial note of it.

She had been very taken aback, then, when Bilbo had said:  “And to whom do we owe this Gratitude?”

“Why to our Hosts!” Dora had replied.

“Yet we are to show this thankfulness and respect  even when we are the providers of our own meals, are we not?”

“Well, yes…”  Dora was not certain what her older cousin was getting at, but she feared it was not something she could Approve Of.  “We are, I suppose, also thankful to those who have worked to obtain the food for us—the gardeners, the farmers…”

“And,” added young Frodo, “we are thankful for the Sun and the rain, too.”

Bilbo had grinned at Frodo and nodded enthusiastically.  “Very good, Frodo!”  Then he’d looked at Dora.  “And of course, the Sun and the rain, and the good dark earth come from somewhere do they not?  The Elves say that we owe the bounty in our lives to the Powers in the West, who helped to create this world, and that it is to them we should be grateful.”

Elves!  Dora refrained from sighing, but simply said firmly, “What are Elvish notions to hobbits?  We are a practical people!”  And then she had turned the conversation to inquiries of Frodo about his latest letter from his Aunt Menegilda.

Frodo stepped out into the hall just then, with her shawl, which he carefully draped about her shoulders, and they walked out, her hand upon Frodo’s arm.  He was a sweet and solicitous lad, as thoughtful and kind as her dear brother Drogo had been.

They headed down the Hill, and Frodo turned his face to the sky.  “Aren’t the stars beautiful tonight?  I think we should also be thankful for their beauty, don’t you?”

Had it been Bilbo making such an observation, she would, perhaps, have found something stern to say about fanciful notions.  But Frodo’s joy was quiet and lovely to behold, so she simply murmured  “You are a very dear lad, Frodo,” which made him smile and blush, but also silenced him as there was no real response to her statement.  They finished the walk down and around the Hill in companionable and enjoyable silence, and Frodo said farewell to her at the door to Greenbriars.  She gave him a little kiss on the cheek and entered her own door.

She would never admit to such a thing to Bilbo, but sometimes his outlandish ideas did make her Furiously to Think.  Could there possibly be anything in the idea that Powers that the Elves believed in could have anything to do with Hobbits? 

Perhaps he was right; nevertheless, she did not see what difference it made, whether it was true or not.  A hobbit should still be Grateful, even if she did not know to Whom.