.oOo.

Tolkiendil Challenge : « You novel will, by putting yourself in the shoes of one of the protagonists, tell Bilbo's 111th anniversary story. »

.oOo.

The clock counted the seconds.

Lobelia counted her money.

The patinated furniture stood like the king's statue, opposite to the fireplace, filling the living room with its age-old rhythm. The minutes themselves seemed more worthier, etched by this brass clock, recently gilded anew.

Lobelia, bowed in front of her waxed side table, pursued endlessly the meticulous stacking of her nest egg on Aunt Skimpress' placemat.

The maid had finished clearing the meal and had taken refuge in the kitchen, fleeing the sour mood of greed and the eternally suspicious pouting of her masters.

Otho reasoned, with a scathing and conquering tone:

- With the outlets I just found for the Sackville cheese workshop, we shall soon be able to enlarge! I have already been able to buy the Longbottom dairies under the name of Descarts. Bilbo, what an old fool, could not see through it!

- Thanks to the lands from Aunt Parcimonia, we are in a good position to dictate our prices to the Tucks! Said delighted Lobelia with a wicked smile, while going on with her pencil and coins.

- Not to mention that the demand from the South keeps on increasing, continued her husband. As soon as next season, we should buy the arpents of Old Winyards to the mad poet! He does not know its value! When I think my own father sold these vines to Uncle Bungo! What a pity!

- I heard he's preparing a grand reception! Here again he throws our money to the winds!

- Ugh! A fair for the indigent flocks of Hobbiton! Fortunately we're not invited!

Once she had finished her own snack - her master's leftover cabbage soup and bacon-tatters, along with half-rotten pears - the young maid scratched timidly at the door.

Lobelia hated to be interrupted in her calculations:

- What is it you want? No dish to wash or sock to darn? So you think you're paid to mess around?

- Excuse me, Mistress! But the mail clerk just gave this letter for you.

A little trembling, the girl came forth, holding in both hands a large envelope that embalmed the violet. Her reading was uncertain, but the golden ink calligraphy had produced a great impression on the young hobbit:

From Bilbo Baggins,

For the benefit of his dearest and most esteemed Sackville-Baggins

Reception at the Venerable Invitees Privilege pavilion.

.oOo.