Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

Eleventy-one Years: Too Short a Time   by Dreamflower

     

Chapter 36: Hopes and Dreams

23 Halimath, S.R. 1323

The day after the party was a Highday. Morning found guests scattering to the four corners of the Shire. Siggy was in high spirits, as Miss Malva's parents were allowing her to ride with the Tooks as far as Tuckbank, where the family dwelt. Adalgrim was glad to be returning to the farm; his father-in-law was an excellent overseer, but Adalgrim had taken to farming as he never thought he would when he was younger. Rory, however, was trying very hard to hold back his tears. He clung to Bilbo.

"I'll miss you, Bilbo! You've been my best teacher ever!"

Bilbo returned his younger cousin's embrace. "Thank you," he said, ruffling the young Brandybuck's curls. "I will miss you as well. Behave yourself, and don't forget all I've taught you!" He watched Rory clamber into the Brandybuck carriage, and saw him waving frantically out the window. Bilbo stood at the gate to Bag End's front garden and waved back until the carriage turned at the bottom of the Hill and was out of sight.

The day stretched long before him. There would be no students on a Highday; his father was worn out from the excitement of the night before and would remain a-bed most of the day. Belladonna was keeping him company, sitting beside her husband in an upholstered chair as she plied her crochet hook on an intricate doily which she had abandoned long ago when it became difficult to see, but she thought that with her new spectacles she would now be able to finish it.

He looked out the door of Bag End, and decided it might be a nice day for a ramble; he went to his parents' room to let them know he'd be gone. Then he put together a satchel of bread, cheese and a couple of apples, and filled his waterskin. From his room he fetched his purse, a pocket handerchief and his hat, and tucked into his pocket a book of poetry that he had received from his Aunt Donnamira. Collecting his cloak and walking stick from beside the door he stepped out into the sunny Halimath day. The wind was brisk, and chilly but not too cold, and the sky was blue save for a few high puffy clouds. The border of the path down to the gate that led to the lane was lined with late daisies, cornflower, stonecrop, mums, marigolds and lady's mantle, interspersed with clusters of delphiniums and pinks and snapdragons and cosmos. He knew that the brilliant display would be gone in only a few weeks, as Master Tam and his assistant Holman Greenhand, who was only a couple of years younger than Bilbo would put the beds to sleep, all tucked up under a tidy blanket of mulch.

He cut across the lane and the Party Field beyond, waving cheerily at the various hobbits he saw; then he swung to the left, back in the direction of the Road as it led towards Bywater. It was Market Day in Hobbiton, and he had hoped to leave the bustle behind him as he sought solitude; but he was rather too early to miss everyone from Bywater who decided to head to Hobbiton. Many of them stopped him to thank him once more for the hospitality of his party.

"Oh, yes, Mistress Tunnelly! I am very glad that you enjoyed the party; it seemed to be very successful," he repeated for the fourth time. But before he could excuse himself to the garrulous hobbitess, she continued.

"Well, now young Mr. Baggins, seeing as you are of age I am sure you will soon be looking for a nice lass to settle down with! Have you ever met my niece, Melba?"

Bilbo's eyes grew wide, as his brain frantically tried to find a reasonable answer to her question other than "Yes, I have and found her to be an empty-headed bore," which though true, was hardly polite.

He was spared having to answer when Mr. Tunnelly, who had been standing quietly by puffing his pipe and rolling his eyes as his wife yammered on and on, spoke up sharply. "Lavinia! Come along; we'll miss the best of the fruit if we don't get going! It's been nice to see you, Mr. Bilbo. Give our greetings to your father!" He cast an apologetic look at Bilbo, grabbed his wife's hand, and headed in the direction of Hobbiton.

Bilbo heaved a sigh of relief and cast silent thanks to Mr. Tunnelly for sparing him the need to answer his wife. How much of /Ithat/I was he going to have to put up with now that he was of age? How was he going to avoid all the matchmaking?

Bywater was quiet, as most folks had gone in to Hobbiton for the market. Of course, next week, Hobbiton would return the favour and head to Bywater to shop at their market. He decided to take elevenses at The Green Dragon. As he went into the inn, he saw he was right about the lack of a crowd. The only customers were two old gaffers absorbed in a game of draughts, and two hobbits he knew (Grubb, Grubb, and Burrowes were the Baggins family solicitors) who were clearly deep in a business discussion and did not even notice that Bilbo had come in. He went to a corner table, and when the serving lass came over, he ordered an ale, some brown bread, sharp cheese and pickles.

She soon brought his order with a flourish and a saucy smile which made him blush. But the ale was good, and the food tasty. He concentrated on his meal; the pickles were tart, the cheese rich and the bread slightly sweet and nutty flavoured. He was nearly finished with his meal when the two lawyers finished their discussion and noticed his presence as they rose to leave. They stopped at the table to greet him, and to inquire about his father's health, but did not linger to converse, much to Bilbo's relief.

He left coins on the table and left The Green Dragon, cutting across country once more. He wandered near the Water, and found a pleasant spot up the bank to sit beneath a willow tree in the dappled shade. He pulled out the book he'd brought along and his pipe, and soon was reading the poems of Iris Brandybuck Took.

Her words brought fresh meaning to the simple and homely topics that brought delight to the hearts of hobbits: the feel of warm sunshine, the delight of finding an unexpected bounty of mushrooms in the woods, the joy of a lark's song, the beauty of the trees in autumn. And then there came a long poem that was clearly about her courtship and marriage. Bilbo found himself growing quite melancholy. He closed the book, and a rumble from his middle made him realise it was time for luncheon. He took the food he'd brought with him from his satchel and ate it, and then had a smoke. He saw fish splashing in the Water and wished he'd brought a pole. Instead, he leaned back against the tree, tipped his hat over his eyes and took a nap.

He was in a tunnel, lost in the dark, alone. Where were his companions? For that matter, who were his companions? He had been with others in this frightening place, he knew he had, but now he could recall none of them nor how he had come to be here. He heard an angry hissing, and it terrified him. It was chasing him through the dark maze of the caverns, and every time he turned away from the sound, suddenly it was in front of him once more. Terrified, he ran, but it felt as if he were going nowhere. The hissing sound seemed to come from everywhere at once: one word that he could barely understand...was it "precious"?

Bilbo woke with a start, sat forward abruptly and shook his head, forgetting for an instant where he was. But he soon recalled. "That foolish dream again!" Ever since the Fell Winter, he had been visited by that particular dream off and on. He took a deep breath and then a drink of water from his waterskin. Then he pulled himself up with his walking stick and looked up at the sky. He had better hurry if he wanted to be home in time for tea!

He once more cut across country, taking the direct route back to Bag End, though it meant jumping hedges and hurdling fences. More than a few amused looks were cast in his direction. He slowed down as he crossed the Party Field. He would be in good time after all. He didn't care to enter the Ismial/I puffing like a grampus. Come to think of it, what was a grampus*? So far as he knew it was a saying only among the Tooks. Whatever one was, it must puff a lot...

After tea, he went to the study to prepare for his students' lessons the next day. They had slacked off somewhat as the party was being prepared for, but now they would all get back to work-all save Rory, who was now probably a good third of the way back to Buckland.

The family spent the evening as they often did, sitting around the hearth in the parlour, as Bilbo and Bungo read and Belladonna worked on her needlewo; tonight she was putting the final touches to the doily she had been working on in the morning. Bilbo found he was tired after his long excursion, and for once, he retired before his parents did.

Yet no matter how tired he was, sleep eluded him. Finally he got up and made his way to the kitchen and brewed a cup of chamomile tea, and found a current scone left from supper.

Bilbo sat there sipping at his tea and picking at the scone and growing more and more melancholy by the moment. His earlier dream had unsettled him, and the encounter with the matchmaking hobbitess in Bywater had alarmed him, and he kept thinking of the evening of his birthday party. For all his friends life was moving on, but he felt at a standstill. Here he was of age now, and there had been many comely lasses at his party. Yet not one of them had stirred his heart and caused it to flutter the way it had on that single day long ago when he'd danced with Pomona.

"Bilbo?"

He gave a start at his mother's soft voice. Belladonna came into the kitchen, pulling the tie on her pale yellow dressing gown.

"Mama? Are you well?" He gave her a worried glance.

She smiled at him, and went to get a cup before sitting down next to him at the table. She poured herself a cup. "I am fine, son. But I put my head into your room to check on you and found it empty. Then I heard stirring in here. She studied his face and said "You look very solemn for one who has just celebrated his coming of age." She reached over and cupped his cheek with her hand.

"What troubles you so, my dearest?"

Under his mother's gentle scrutiny, all his uncertainty came tumbling from his mouth: how the sight of cousins and friends his age or only a little older paired up and courting, some betrothed, some even already married and with families, had made him fear he'd never have a family of his own.

His mother smiled at him. "Perhaps you have not met her yet, the lass you are meant to be with."

The look Bilbo gave her was so sorrowful it sparked tears in her own eyes.

"Mama, I think perhaps I did, and let my chance slip away."

She reached across the table and took one of his hands in both of hers. "Tell me about it, Bilbo-love."

"Remember the lass I danced with at Adalgrim's wedding?"

Belladonna nodded. "Periwinkle's younger sister, Pomona?"

"Yes. It took all the courage I had to ask her to dance with me. I couldn't get up the nerve to ask her father if we could correspond, and we were barely tweens; I did not think he would allow it."

"I see."

"So I didn't say anything to her then. But I just couldn't get her out of my mind. When I went to Whitwell a few years ago, I was determined to ask her if she might one day return my regard; but she was no longer there. She had gone away to become a healer's apprentice."

"Healers do occasionally wed, even if not often! Look at Mistress Rose!"

"Yes, but Pomona has gone to the Northfarthing to take up her practice! What are the chances we shall ever meet again?" He sounded miserable.

Belladonna studied her son's face; he needed reassurance badly. Perhaps she could give it, though it was not a thing she had ever spoken of before; even among Tooks it was seldom mentioned aloud. "Bilbo, believe me when I say you will have a family someday."

He sighed, and looked at her fondly but doubtfully. She could tell from his face that she was only saying that to cheer him up.

She gazed at him intently. "I know it's rarely mentioned, but you have heard that Tooks occasionally have true dreaming?

Bilbo's gaze sharpened, and he made a wordless cry of surprise.

She smiled. "I have dreamed it more than once: You are a hobbit of late middle years, Bilbo, and you are walking down the lane with a handsome lad in his early tweens. He is fair of skin and dark of hair, clearly taking after my side of the family. But the two of you are laughing and talking. I have no doubt whatsoever that lad is your son."

She was pleased to see his face light up with hope. "Mama!" he exclaimed, "truly?"

"I truly believe it is so, son." She smiled. "You go along now and get some sleep. I'll wash up the tea cups."

She watched him fondly as he left, but as soon as he was gone and she began to gather up the few dishes, she allowed her troubled thoughts to show. Of all the times she had dreamt of Bilbo and the lad she had come to think of as her grandson, she had never once seen wife and mother. And there had been a few less happy dreams as well. But foresight was a tricky thing, and there was good reason the Tooks so gifted rarely spoke of it even among themselves.

x0x0x0x0x

*So far as I could find out with my research "grampus" was an archaic term for a dolphin or porpoise, and the phrase probably originated from the "puffing" of the animal's blowhole. "Puffing like a grampus" is an old-fashioned saying, and most people who use it probably never wonder what a grampus is; Bilbo, with his love of words, is one who would wonder.

In my head, this is probably a phrase brought home to the Shire by Isengar Took after his own Adventure when he went to sea!





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List