Chapter 1
Old Oak Brewery
Nowhere was the departure of Bilbo more keenly felt than at the Old Oak Brewery.
Not only had Bilbo been a frequent casual visitor to most of the local ale- houses, but he had a standing order for delivery each month of one crate of stout (in pint bottles) and two crates of ale (in half-pint bottles), as well as a firkin of draught cider. No-one who visited Bilbo could complain of being parched.
Not that Bilbo was by any means a heavy drinker, though he liked to wash down his simple meals of bread and cheese or mushroom pie with a jug of ale. But he had a lot of friends, not a few of whom staggered home tipsy from time to time.
Of course, in the build up to the eleventy-first party, Old Oak had been busier than ever, and had had to buy in beer from breweries far and wide across the Shire, bringing in fine old stout from Barleyman Brothers, bitter from Ind Coope, and mild beer from Mondonmouth Eversure. Cider they always bought in from the many little orchards where it was fomented, but for the party they had to buy in from as far away as Bree.
In the days after the party, the Old Oak was kept busy as all the very young hobbits brought back the empties and pocketed the copper coins – 10 bottles a penny. But once a week had passed, and the excitement was, well, if not forgotten, at least out of the forefront of everyone's minds, there was a feeling throughout most of Hobbiton that everything should start getting back to normal.
At the brewery, however, the partners, Ogar and Jaker, sat discussing by how much they should reduce their normal brew. "We should be all right if we cut down by 8 hogsheads of stout and 3 butts of ale" opined Ogar. "Let's try that for now," replied Jaker, "but what about mild beer? We could probably cut that by 2 butts too?" "I think so," said Ogar.
They were sitting around a queer-shaped table – it was on two levels, and had been made to cater for the fact that the two partners were from different species – Ogar was a hobbit, but Jaker was a man. When Ogar had inherited the Old Oak brewery from his father, Frugar, he was just fifteen, and his father hadn't taught him anything about the business side of things. Ogar had know how to make beer, but not how to sell it, so he had put word around that he needed a partner.
Jaker, who was a Jack of all trades, but at heart a dealer, had heard about this at the weekly market at CrouchHouse Green, where he was dealing in leather coats at the time. They had come to an agreement where Jaker did all the buying of malt and hops, and all the selling to the ale-houses, and Ogar did all the actual brewing. Jaker took no wages, but Ogar paid him one gold coin for every three the business made.
They sat quietly, each smoking a long clay pipe. They were poring over the account books.
"Perhaps his young nephew, Frodo or whatever his name is, will fill the breach," offered Jaker encouragingly. "Yes, that's worth thinking about" said Ogar. "Perhaps we could deliver the usual amount of crates, and then send one of the 'prentices around a few days later with the account. He might just keep on paying."
Frodo wasn't quite such a chump as to fall for that one, however. He sent his gardener, Sam, down to the brewery to tell Jaker that his requirements would be considerably less than Bilbo's, thank you very much, and he would have to compare the prices with those of White Downs Maltings before deciding whether to continue using Old Oak. This was a bit of a fib, actually, as Frodo thought Ogar's beer the finest in all the Shire.
In the end, new arrangements were made, with Frodo ordering a little less than before, and getting a slightly lower price, and Frodo quite forgot about Ogar and Jaker. Ogar was happy enough, too - he was still selling to Bag End and all of the ale-houses around, and he soon slipped back into a comfortable routine.
Jaker, however, hadn't enjoyed having to make concessions to the young hobbit, and resolved to get his own back one day.
Sam, too was unsettled by it all. He didn't like unpleasantness, and he didn't like dealing with Jaker. It was Jaker who came around once a month to collect the money for the account. He never counted the money Sam handed him, he just jingled the coins in his hand and slipped them in his pocket. He always tousled Sam's hair in an over-familiar way, then tipped his feathered hat and said "Thank you, young master" in a tone which Sam felt showed he didn't think of him as a master at all.
From time to time, Jaker would go on what he called his "little sales trips" – he would leave Ogar and the brewery for a week or so, to call on the publicans in the farther villages of the Shire, like Pincup, Brokenboring or Whitfurrows, or sometimes even across the Brandywine River to Newbury or Standelf. It seemed to Ogar that it would be rather hard to service the ale-houses so far away, but Jaker pointed out that he might be able to sell some of the really strong bottled ales that would keep for years – and fetch a higher price.
Sometimes he came back with an order, sometimes not. But he seemed to enjoy the trips, and Ogar could manage without him for short periods. Ogar quite enjoyed being the feeling of being wholly in charge. Although he'd relied on Jaker to deal with the business side of things when he'd first had to manage without his father, with time he got more confident, and began to feel that he could do without Jaker. He began to take rather a dislike to Jaker, and what he'd at first admired in him, like the way he dealt firmly with customers who had complaints, he began to see as bullying. In fact, he couldn't help thinking that Jaker rather bullied him. Perhaps it wasn't surprising for, as well as being a man who knew all about business, he was also a man, and Ogar was a hobbit.
Old Oak Brewery
Nowhere was the departure of Bilbo more keenly felt than at the Old Oak Brewery.
Not only had Bilbo been a frequent casual visitor to most of the local ale- houses, but he had a standing order for delivery each month of one crate of stout (in pint bottles) and two crates of ale (in half-pint bottles), as well as a firkin of draught cider. No-one who visited Bilbo could complain of being parched.
Not that Bilbo was by any means a heavy drinker, though he liked to wash down his simple meals of bread and cheese or mushroom pie with a jug of ale. But he had a lot of friends, not a few of whom staggered home tipsy from time to time.
Of course, in the build up to the eleventy-first party, Old Oak had been busier than ever, and had had to buy in beer from breweries far and wide across the Shire, bringing in fine old stout from Barleyman Brothers, bitter from Ind Coope, and mild beer from Mondonmouth Eversure. Cider they always bought in from the many little orchards where it was fomented, but for the party they had to buy in from as far away as Bree.
In the days after the party, the Old Oak was kept busy as all the very young hobbits brought back the empties and pocketed the copper coins – 10 bottles a penny. But once a week had passed, and the excitement was, well, if not forgotten, at least out of the forefront of everyone's minds, there was a feeling throughout most of Hobbiton that everything should start getting back to normal.
At the brewery, however, the partners, Ogar and Jaker, sat discussing by how much they should reduce their normal brew. "We should be all right if we cut down by 8 hogsheads of stout and 3 butts of ale" opined Ogar. "Let's try that for now," replied Jaker, "but what about mild beer? We could probably cut that by 2 butts too?" "I think so," said Ogar.
They were sitting around a queer-shaped table – it was on two levels, and had been made to cater for the fact that the two partners were from different species – Ogar was a hobbit, but Jaker was a man. When Ogar had inherited the Old Oak brewery from his father, Frugar, he was just fifteen, and his father hadn't taught him anything about the business side of things. Ogar had know how to make beer, but not how to sell it, so he had put word around that he needed a partner.
Jaker, who was a Jack of all trades, but at heart a dealer, had heard about this at the weekly market at CrouchHouse Green, where he was dealing in leather coats at the time. They had come to an agreement where Jaker did all the buying of malt and hops, and all the selling to the ale-houses, and Ogar did all the actual brewing. Jaker took no wages, but Ogar paid him one gold coin for every three the business made.
They sat quietly, each smoking a long clay pipe. They were poring over the account books.
"Perhaps his young nephew, Frodo or whatever his name is, will fill the breach," offered Jaker encouragingly. "Yes, that's worth thinking about" said Ogar. "Perhaps we could deliver the usual amount of crates, and then send one of the 'prentices around a few days later with the account. He might just keep on paying."
Frodo wasn't quite such a chump as to fall for that one, however. He sent his gardener, Sam, down to the brewery to tell Jaker that his requirements would be considerably less than Bilbo's, thank you very much, and he would have to compare the prices with those of White Downs Maltings before deciding whether to continue using Old Oak. This was a bit of a fib, actually, as Frodo thought Ogar's beer the finest in all the Shire.
In the end, new arrangements were made, with Frodo ordering a little less than before, and getting a slightly lower price, and Frodo quite forgot about Ogar and Jaker. Ogar was happy enough, too - he was still selling to Bag End and all of the ale-houses around, and he soon slipped back into a comfortable routine.
Jaker, however, hadn't enjoyed having to make concessions to the young hobbit, and resolved to get his own back one day.
Sam, too was unsettled by it all. He didn't like unpleasantness, and he didn't like dealing with Jaker. It was Jaker who came around once a month to collect the money for the account. He never counted the money Sam handed him, he just jingled the coins in his hand and slipped them in his pocket. He always tousled Sam's hair in an over-familiar way, then tipped his feathered hat and said "Thank you, young master" in a tone which Sam felt showed he didn't think of him as a master at all.
From time to time, Jaker would go on what he called his "little sales trips" – he would leave Ogar and the brewery for a week or so, to call on the publicans in the farther villages of the Shire, like Pincup, Brokenboring or Whitfurrows, or sometimes even across the Brandywine River to Newbury or Standelf. It seemed to Ogar that it would be rather hard to service the ale-houses so far away, but Jaker pointed out that he might be able to sell some of the really strong bottled ales that would keep for years – and fetch a higher price.
Sometimes he came back with an order, sometimes not. But he seemed to enjoy the trips, and Ogar could manage without him for short periods. Ogar quite enjoyed being the feeling of being wholly in charge. Although he'd relied on Jaker to deal with the business side of things when he'd first had to manage without his father, with time he got more confident, and began to feel that he could do without Jaker. He began to take rather a dislike to Jaker, and what he'd at first admired in him, like the way he dealt firmly with customers who had complaints, he began to see as bullying. In fact, he couldn't help thinking that Jaker rather bullied him. Perhaps it wasn't surprising for, as well as being a man who knew all about business, he was also a man, and Ogar was a hobbit.