Chapter 4: Turning Three

Halimath, S.R. 1293

"Do you really mean it?" asked Bingo with a grin.

"We do indeed, little brother," said Bungo.  Belladonna, who was holding her husband's hand, nodded.

"Are you sure you don't want one of your Took kin, Bella?"

She shook her head and smiled at her youngest brother-in-law.  "I am quite sure.  Bilbo is very fond of you, Bingo!  And I want him to celebrate his faunthood here at Bag End, not at the Great Smials."  She picked up a plate and handed it over to him. "Now, have another bilberry scone.  Do you want some more tea?"

***

Bingo set down the Hill for Greenbriars whistling jauntily!  How wonderful that he had been asked to escort little Bilbo on his first present-finding expedition as a faunt.  The honor often went to older siblings or cousins, but Bilbo was an only child, and he had no Baggins cousins of an appropriate age.  At twenty-nine Bingo was old enough to be responsible for the little one, but young enough to not mind trekking about in the early morning following the whims of a three-year-old.

Of course, the parents could not do it; otherwise the child's little offerings would not be a surprise!

Mungo and Laura were thrilled with Bingo's news.  "What fun that will be for both of you, son," his father said.  

His sister Linda sighed. "If only they would have a lass! Then perhaps I would get the chance to do that someday."

"Cheer up, sissy," Bingo said. "I am sure that there's time for that!"

"We had word of Longo in the post today," said his mother.

"He sent a letter?" Bingo asked.

"No." Mungo's voice was flat.  "The letter was from Mr. Sackville, telling us that Longo had arrived and was settling into his job."  Longo had received the offer of a position from Cosimo Sackville, a prominent leaf-grower in the Southfarthing right after he had come of age that summer.  The Sackville factor was growing older, and Longo was to act as the factor's assistant, with the idea that he was being groomed to take over when the older hobbit decided to retire from the position.

"Oh." Bingo was not surprised that his brother had not written.  He probably would, eventually-- but not until he had something to boast about. Longo was rather more ambitious than was seemly for a hobbit.

"So," said Laura, in an effort to change the subject, "tell me of the plans for little Bilbo's birthday next week..."

***

A little hobbit's third birthday is a momentous occasion: it is when the little one leaves off being an infant and becomes a faunt, who can walk about and who has begun to talk and communicate.  Faunthood lasts for two years, until childhood begins on the fifth birthday.  But it is on the third birthday that the faunt begins to be schooled in one of the most important lessons of life for a hobbit: that giving is more important than receiving.  Among hobbits the giving of gifts is a tradition wrapped about with rules and ceremonies, most especially birthday gifts, which are both given and received.

For a faunt that third birthday is an introduction to the giving of birthday gifts.  Early on the little byrding's day the child will be taken by a beloved older relative or friend to find gifts; these very often were flowers, or a pretty stone, or some other object that took the child's eye.  These first gifts are then presented to the parents, a cherished moment-- many a fond mother kept the often bedraggled blooms and pressed them in the pages of a book.

Bingo knew he had a big responsibility; he had to make sure that Bilbo had fun finding the gifts, so that he would think of giving as a pleasant thing, but he also needed to guide his nephew into choosing things that would not be unsuitable.  While a three-year-old might find a frog fascinating his mother most assuredly would not be pleased.  But most of all, Bilbo should have that feeling of joy that comes from making someone else happy, so that he would want to do it again and again.

The twenty-second of Halimath dawned clear and pleasant, and Bingo rose very early.  He was to go up the hill and take first breakfast at Bag End, so that immediately afterwards he and Bilbo could go out to gather the gifts.

Belladonna answered the door, and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.  "Good morning, Bingo!  I am so glad you are going to do this for Bilbo."

She led him into Bag End's cosy kitchen, where he was greeted by the wonderful smells of first breakfast:  there were griddlecakes and sausages and bacon and eggs scrambled with mushrooms and fried potatoes and they were all accompanied by a pot of fresh tea, a jug of fruit juice, honey, fresh butter and strawberry jam.  Bilbo was no longer seated in his high chair.  Instead he was on one of the regular chairs, boosted to table height by a sturdy boxlike seat fastened to the chair by a leather strap.

"Unca Bingo!" Bilbo crowed.  "I'm big now!  I'm t'ree!"

He grinned as Bilbo punctuated his statement with a large bite of sausage.  "So I see!  You are not in your baby chair anymore!"

Bilbo chewed and swallowed.  "I'm a faunt now! I'm not a baby now!"

Bingo took a seat between his nephew and his brother as Belladonna sat a plateful of food before him.  As Bilbo occupied himself with eating, Bingo did the same, adding butter and honey to his griddlecakes.  Then he took up a forkful of eggs and mushrooms-- ah! delectable!  Whatever Longo might say about Tooks, Belladonna was an excellent cook, and at this moment Bingo was very glad that she was his sister-in-law.

Bella sat down with her own plate now, and there was a brief silence at the table as all four hobbits concentrated on their food.  Bilbo finished first and looked at his little plate with the painting of ducklings around the rim.  "Mama!  More p'ease?"

"More of what, Bilbo-lad?  Do you want eggs or potatoes or griddlecakes or sausage?"

"Yes, p'ease, Mama!" he grinned. "More everyt'ing!"

"I'll get it, my dear," said Bungo.  "I've quite finished, and you have not."  He rose and took the child-sized plate to the sideboard to fill it up once more; then he placed it in front of his son.

"T'ank you, Papa!"

When the meal was finished, Belladonna took Bilbo to clean him up while Bingo helped his brother with the washing up.  He washed the plates and handed them to Bungo for drying.  

"Well, little brother, are you ready for this?  I warn you, he may run you ragged!"

"Of course I am!  We'll make a game of it all!"  Bingo grinned and splashed some of the dishwater in his brother's direction.  Bungo retaliated with a snap of the dish towel, and soon they were having a brotherly tussle, until they heard the "A-hem!" clearing of a feminine throat.  Belladonna stood in the door looking amused.  She had Bilbo by the hand, and his eyes were enormous as he watched his father and uncle.

Bingo knelt down.  "Well, Bilbo-lad, are you ready to go and find presents?"

Bilbo gave a little shriek of delight, and rushed into his uncle's arms.  "We will see you in a little while," Bingo said as he stood up with Bilbo in his arms.  

Bilbo looked back over Bungo's shoulder and waved.  " 'Bye, Mama!  'Bye, Papa!"

***

Once out the front door of Bag End into the crisp autumn air,  and down the front steps, Bingo set his nephew down and watched him carefully.  If the lad decided to pick his flowers from the herbaceaous border along the flagged front path, their expedition would be a short one.  But Bilbo had no interest in flowers that he saw every day of his short life.  Instead he pelted on his chubby legs down the path to the gate.  "Come on, Unca Bingo!" he called impatiently.

Bingo went down and took the child's hand before opening the gate.  "Please stay next to me while we are on the road, Bilbo.  We'll play a game, and perhaps it will help you to find your presents."

Bilbo looked up and nodded.  "I will!"

Bingo dropped the little hand and began to stroll, Bilbo trotting along at his side.  "Here is the game, Bilbo.  I will see something and tell you about it.  Then you tell me what you think it is."

His nephew nodded and gazed up at him seriously.  "BIlbo, I see something tall and shady. What is it?"

Bilbo stopped and pointed at the side of the road.  "A t'ee!" he laughed.  "Did I get it right?"

"You most certainly did.  I see something fluffy and white.  What is it?"

Bilbo looked all around, and then gazed up at his uncle, who was staring at the sky.  "Oh!" he exclaimed, and looked up.  "A c'oud!"

"RIght again!"  They played for a while as they walked, Bingo deliberately choosing parts of the landscape that could not be picked up for Bilbo to give as gifts.  He wanted them to take their time in searching, so he "saw" a gate, a pony in a neighbour's field and a pond.  Then he said, "I see something small and round.  What is it?"  He had an eye on a small white stone by the side of the road.

Bilbo seemed briefly stumped.  He looked all around, but never once in the direction of the little stone.  "I know, Unca Bingo!"  He pointed over to the side of the road, just the other side of a wooden fence.  "A apple!" He looked up at his uncle.  "I want a apple for Papa!  Papa likes apples!"  Sure enough, there stood a lonely apple tree laden with pippins.

Bingo nodded. The field belonged to Farmer Button, but he knew that the old fellow would not begrudge a three-year-old byrding an apple for his Papa.  Bingo lifted Bilbo over the fence and then clambered over after him.  They walked up to the tree, and Bingo lifted Bilbo up over his head so the lad could pluck one of the little apples.

"Papa will like this one," Bilbo said, examining it critically.

"Shall I carry it for you in my pocket until we get back to Bag End?" Bingo asked.  At Bilbo's nod, he dropped it into his jacket pocket and they continued their walk cross-country.  The game was now forgotten as Bilbo looked seriously to find a gift for his mother.

Suddenly he gave a little shout.  "Mush'ooms!" he pointed.  "I want a mush'oom for Mama!"

They went over to where Bilbo had seen the mushroom, but Bingo held him back.  "No, Bilbo. Not that mushroom!  That's a bad kind of mushroom; it would make your mama sick."

"Oh."  Bilbo drooped forlornly.  "I don't want a bad mush'oom."

"We'll find something else. Don't worry."  

Soon they came near a small copse of maple trees, already nearly bare of their golden autumn foliage, which littered the ground.  Bilbo darted over and began to pick them up, one at a time, examining each one closely for its appearance and discarding each as it failed to meet his exacting standards.  Finally he held one up.  "Dis one, Unca Bingo! Mama will like this one!"  

Bingo grinned.  "Indeed she will, Bilbo-lad!  That's a beautiful leaf!"  He admired it-- it truly was lovely: huge, perfectly symmetrical, a deep red around the edges fading to a brilliant golden colour in the centre, it was not yet brittle.  Bingo was quite sure that Bilbo's mother would be very pleased with his tribute.  

"I'm tired, Unca Bingo."  

They had traipsed quite a distance from Bag End; it was a long trek for a three-year-old.  Bingo added the leaf to the apple in his pocket, and picked Bilbo up.  "We'll go back now.  And you can give your presents to your Mama and Papa."

Bilbo fell asleep on the way, and Bingo sighed as he felt the drool on his shoulder.  But he was happy.  He felt successful in having guided his little nephew through this rite-of-passage.  Now all that remained was for Bilbo to give his gifts.

Bingo stopped as they reached the gate to Bag End.  "Wake up, Bilbo!"

Bilbo looked up at him blearily for a moment, and wiped his eyes with his fingers.  Bingo set him down.  "We are back home, lad." He took the apple and the leaf from his pocket and handed them to the child, who smiled up at him.  

"T'ank you, Unca Bingo."  

Belladonna and Bungo were waiting patiently in the front room, sitting together on the settee by the hearth.  Bingo stood in the doorway while little Bilbo ran in to their embrace and watched the scene unfold before him.

"Papa!  I got you a apple!"

Bungo took it, and grinned.  "Thank you, Bilbo!  If you don't mind, I won't eat it yet!  I will wait until after luncheon, so I can show it to your grandparents when they come to eat with us."

"Dat's all right, Papa!"

He turned to his mother, and held up the leaf.  "Do you like it, Mama?"

"Oh Bilbo!"  Tears sparked in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mama, don't cry!  Don't you like it?"

She gathered him up in her arms.  "I like it very, very much indeed! I am crying because I am very, very happy!"

Bilbo turned a puzzled expression to his father.  "It's true, Bilbo.  Sometimes mothers do cry because they are happy."

Bilbo returned his mother's squeeze, and added a little kiss on her cheek.  "Unca Bingo he'ped me find it.  He's a good p'esent finder!"

All three turned to grin at Bingo, who found himself flushed with pleasure.  It had been a very gratifying morning.  "So," he said, "what does a lad have to do around here to get some second breakfast?"

***

A/N: Most of the traditions I have incorporated into the fanon of "my" Shire-universe have been extrapolated from one of Tolkien's letters.  Letter #214 addresses a number of Shire customs and traditions.

" 'Birthdays' had a considerable social importance. A person celebrating his/her birthday was called a ribadyan (which may be rendered according to the system described and adopted a byrding). The customs connected to birhdays had, though deeply rooted, become regulated by fairly strict etiquette; and so in consequence were in many cases reduced to formalities..."

"With regard to presents: on his birthday the 'byrding' both gave and received presents; but the processes were different in origin, function and etiquette..."

:"Giving gifts: was a personal matter, not limited to kinship. It was a form of 'thanksgiving', and taken as a recognition of services, benefits, and friendship shown, especially in the past year

It may be noted that Hobbits, as soon as they became 'faunts' (that is talkers and walkers: formally taken to be on their third birthday-anniversary) gave presents to their parents.  These were supposed to be things 'produced' by the giver (that is found, grown, or made by the 'byrding'), beginning in small children with bunches of wild flowers..."

As you can see the groundwork has been done for me by the Professor.  I've added in some logical formalities and details.  If a three-year-old is going to go out and gather wild flowers he or she must be supervised, and by someone other than the intended recipient (the parents).  In my Shire, a suitable older relative is found to do this duty.

The fact that a good deal of emphasis is placed on the 'thanksgiving' aspect of gift-giving, and that a display of gifts is considered poor taste (something mentioned further along in the letter) has led me to feel that in Shire society generosity and a spirit of giving are considered prime virtues, and that "It is better to give than receive" would be a value that Shire parents would seek to instill in their children.

At this time Bingo in his late tweens is about the equivalent of an 18-year-old Man, and Bilbo at 3 is just about the same as a 2-year-old Man-child.