"Come in Mister Bilbo." Bell set down her basin, turning to collect a mug from the kitchen shelves. "Ye'll stay for a cup of tea." It wasn't a question and Bilbo grinned as he took a seat at the table.
"That's good of you, Bell. I see you've made a start. Here are the soft raisins and candied peels I promised." He placed two small paper bags on the table even as Bell set a mug of strong tea before him and pushed the honey pot closer.
Bell opened one of the bags, her eyes brightening as she sniffed the contents. "We do candied fruit in the Shire but there's somethin' special about the elven stuff. I swear they add some sort of spice to it." She fished out a little cube of candied orange peel and popped it in her mouth, eyes rolling as she chewed. "Oh, now that's beautiful."
Bilbo grinned. "I don't know about the spice but it does make cakes taste lovely. I see you've made a start on yours."
"Aye. That gives me plenty of time to steep it in brandy." Bell winked as she took up her basin once more and began to stir it's contents. At present, the bowl contained only butter and powdered sugar. "Thank ye for the brandy too. It'll make a grand weddin' cake." She sniffed. "Not that Fern Sandyman deserves it, after the trick she pulled on poor Master Frodo."
"That's all in the past, Bell. Wyd Bracegirdle stepped up as soon as he discovered Fern's plight. I understand that they met when he was driving pigs and lambs to market every week. I think Borden Brewer will be keeping a closer watch on the comings and goings in his stable loft in future."
Bell snorted, "Trust a Bracegirdle to get her pregnant. That clan could get a lass pregnant by just lookin' at her. Tis a wonder we're not overrun. Thank goodness they've not a brain between 'em. Most of the sensible lasses leave 'em alone."
Bilbo decided he aught to defend the Bracegirdle clan, as they were not present to do so themselves. "Not all, surely. Hugo is always borrowing books from me."
Bell shook her head slowly. "Beggin' yer pardon, Mister Bilbo, but sometimes ye can be a bit blind. Hugo Bracegirdle don't actually read those books. He told my Ham that he only carries them around to impress the lasses."
Bilbo was stunned for a moment. "That would explain why I always have to prompt him to return them. At least Ted Sandyman has come up with the coin to ensure that Fern and Wyd will have somewhere to live. Has Caly finished emptying Pansy's smial?"
Bell checked the colour of her mixture, adding eggs and flour when she deemed it pale enough. "She's only taken her sister's personal stuff. The furniture weren't worth sellin' on so she's let the young un's have it. Of course, Ted's been crowin' about that fer days."
"Ted's always been one to find a bargain. Although I think it a pity he would not buy them somewhere better. Goodness knows, he has coin enough."
Bell nodded. "Aye. Them smials along the river there flood too often for my taste. Still, the way Ted were goin' on they're lucky to get anythin', and mayhap they'll be able to afford somethin' better in a few year. Daisy's gone down today to help 'em clean up. Nobody's been in it since Pansy died."
Pain flashed in Bilbo's eyes, for he had once considered offering for Pansy Goodbody, before he left on his adventure. Burying her last winter had brought home to him just how old he was getting. Other's had also noticed, and he had recently been considering taking up Lord Elrond's offer of a visit, but Frodo was not yet of age. "I doubt it. A butcher's apprentice doesn't earn much. Still, at least his uncle Bill is providing him with the job."
"Aye." Bell began folding in dried fruit, cherries, raisins, and the gifts from Bilbo. "Have ye heard whether Penly Whitfoot is here?"
"Frodo tells me he arrived this morning and has taken his usual room at the Ivy Bush. He has two more weddings to perform before Fern and Wyd."
"No doubt he's negotiated his usual room rate, with Borden," Bell pointed out with a sniff. "Penly's never been backward at usin' his title to get a good rate."
Bilbo chuckled. "There are few other advantages to being Mayor and Borden Brewer is happy enough, as long as payment for the room covers the cost of linens and food. Borden has always considered it his gift to the wedding parties."
Bell tipped her cake mixture into a waiting pan. "The amount Penly eats, poor Borden will be lucky if he does cover the cost. I'm amazed our mayor can get through the doors, he's grown so round. The whole family runs to fat and his son, Will, is goin' the same way. Goodness knows, I like a hobbit to have a bit of flesh on him, but the Whitfoots try too hard. At least his regular visit has come afore Fern shows the same shape."
Bilbo drained his tea, running tongue around his teeth to remove the last of the tannin. "They could always have jumped over the brush."
Bell rolled her eyes at the innocence of bachelors. "And a finer way to declare yer in the family way I can't think of. Ted would have walked the pair all the way to Michel Delvin, rather than standin' fer that."
"You're probably correct." Bilbo stood.
Just then, there was a knock at the yard door and Clover Mugwort stepped in. "Hello, Mister Bilbo. I thought I heard your voice. Don't let me interrupt, only I've brought this. I forgot when I called in before and you said as how you needed it for the cake, Bell." The elderly lady held out a mug which was filled with powdered sugar.
Bell frowned. "But ye brought me the sugar earlier, Clover, love. I've put it in the mixture. Did ye forget?"
Clover blinked. "Well now. Fancy that. I must be gettin' old. Just lately I'm forgettin' all sorts." She grinned. "Oh well. That's more for me to bake an apple pie. Yes. I'll make a pie." Without a backward glance the old gammer left by the way she had come, leaving Bell and Bilbo staring at the door.
"She's been gettin' worse of late." Bell noted with a worried frown. "Ever since she had the influenza this winter past."
"I had noticed. She keeps forgetting to pay her rent but I've not the heart to mention it to her." Bilbo straightened his waistcoat. "Well, I'd best get back. I left Frodo preparing luncheon and cooking is not one of his better skills. I'm still trying to get rid of the smell of burnt eggs from yesterday's lunch."
Bell's greying brows climbed her forehead. "How ever did he manage to burn eggs?"
"By putting them on to boil and then sitting down to read a book. Seems Clover is not the only one with memory lapses. It's a blessing Frodo used a good pan or he would have burned the bottom out of it."
"That lad takes too closely after ye, if ye don't mind me sayin' so."
Bilbo chuckled. "You have a point. And it's a fact I think I'm rather proud of, on the whole."
-0-
A week later, early on a bright June morning, Frodo and Daisy Gamgee were strolling down the hill together. Each carried a shopping basket, although Frodo's was empty, for he was on the way to market, Daisy's was filled with cleaning materials.
"How's the wedding planning going," Frodo asked.
"Tis all done and dusted. I stitched the sixpence in Fern's hem yesterday and me and the lasses helped her make up the weddin' favours. We're goin' to send her back to her family after second breakfast, so we can decorate the smial. How are you and the lads doin'?"
Frodo grinned. "We'll be at the mill in plenty of time to pester your bride, don't worry."
Daisy's laugh was bright on the morning air. "Tis good of you to stand by Wyd, after what Fern did to you."
"She was just scared. And Wyd's family are too far distant, in Harbottle, to send many folk to the wedding here. I think they all appreciate you and the other lasses standing in as bridesmaids too."
They paused by the bridge across the Water and Daisy grinned. "Tis only right. The Bracegirdles can't afford to pay to stay at the Ivy Bush and I don't think Mister Sandyman is too pleased about havin' to put up Wyd's Ma and Da, never mind anyone else."
"No doubt they're being charged for food, nonetheless. At least Wyd is fairing better in your smial."
Daisy shrugged. "One more mouth for a week ain't no real bother to us, and your uncle has been sendin' down the odd pie to fill the table. I reckon Sam is lookin' forward to havin' his room to himself again, though. He's got used to spreadin' out since Ham and Hal moved out." She grinned. "And Wyd snores somethin' awful. I reckon bein' a newly wed aint goin' to be the only reason Fern won't be sleepin', if you take my meanin'."
"Daisy Gamgee, you are wicked," Frodo announced with a laugh. "You'd best get moving. I can see Honeysuckle waiting for you by the gate and I need to buy some bacon for elevenses."
Daisy waved down the lane at her friend. "Mayhap Wyd will give you a bit of a discount," she called over her shoulder as they parted.
Frodo went on his way, doubtful that Wyd's uncle, Bill Bracegirdle, would allow any such thing.
-0-
Three days later Bilbo heard, "Oh no!" Frodo stepped into the hall, still fastening the last button on his waistcoat.
"What is it?" his uncle enquired, poking his head out of his bedroom doorway, obviously in the middle of tying his cravat.
"It's raining."
"Is that all? It's only a shower, and it's supposed to be good luck to have rain on the morning of a wedding." Bilbo returned to his bedroom, making one more attempt to wrangle his new cravat into submission.
Frodo checked the window once more, hoping that Bilbo was correct. Now that he looked more closely he could see that most of the sky was blue so he dug out his comb and began to tackle his foothair. At least the wedding breakfast was to be held in Tom Cotton's barn.
Half an hour later Bilbo was proved correct as he and Frodo stepped out into a fine Forelithe day. Bartimus and Nedes Brockbank met Frodo at the garden gate, but as they were about to depart, Bilbo caught his arm. "Not too rough, now. Remember the teasing is supposed to be just that. We don't want the bride and her maids to arrive looking as though they've been dragged through a hedge."
"Don't you worrit Mister Baggins. We've done this before. Fern and her maids will look as pretty as they were when they set out," Bartimus assured him.
Still, Bilbo bent close to whisper in Frodo's ear. "Be extra careful with Fern. Remember her condition."
Frodo offered a smile of reassurance. "We will, Uncle." They parted company there, Frodo and his companions running off toward Bywater and the mill, and Bilbo going to join the groom's party in the Ivy Bush Tavern.
As soon as her maids saw the lads approaching they surrounded Fern. Frodo and the Brockbanks had been joined by a couple more local lads and they danced about the lasses, trying to dart between them to catch the bride. The lasses joined hands to form a ring and began to chant. "Sing or snatch. Sing or snatch."
Frodo led the way, his clear tenor voice opening with an ancient song, his companions providing harmony. The lads and lasses sang verses, turn and turn about, as they wended their way to the market square.
*Sweet Flora, my heart's delight
Be loving, and do not slight
The proffer I make, for modesty's sake
I honour your beauty bright.
For love, I profess, I can do no less
Thou hast my favour won
And since I see your modesty,
I pray agree and fancy me,
Though I'm but a farmer's son.
No! I am a maiden gay
Tis very well know I may
Have lads of renown, in country or town
So! Robin, without delay
Court Hazel or Prue, May, Diamond so true,
Their loves will soon be won
But don't you dare to speak me fair,
As if I were at my last prayer
To marry a farmer's son
My father has riches' store,
Two hundred a year and more
Beside sheep and cows, carts harrows and plough
His age is above three score
And when he does die, then merrily I
Shall have what he has won
Both land and kine, all shall be thine
If thou'lt incline, and wilt be mine
And marry a farmer's son
A fig for your cattle and corn
Your proffered love I scorn
Tis easy to know, my name is Flo
And you're but a bumpkin born.
Well, since it is so, away I will go
And hope no harm is done.
Farewell to you – I hope to woo
As good as you – and win her too
Though I'm but a farmer's son.
Be not in such haste, quoth she
Perhaps we may still agree
For lad I protest, I was but in jest
Come, prythee sit down by me
For thou ar't lad that veryily can
Win me, if e'er I'm won
Both straight and tall, genteel withal
Therefore I shall be at your call
To marry a farmer's son
Dear lady, believe me now
I solemnly swear and vow
No lords in their lives take pleasure in wives
Like fellows that drive the plough
For whatever they gain with labour and pain
They don't with a scarlet run,
As southern lads do. I never knew
A High King's son that could outdo
A country farmer's son.
When the lads finished on a rousing chord they made another mock attempt to capture Fern, but her maids intervened again and now it was the turn of the lads to chant, "Song or loose, Song or loose". Daisy took up the challenge, her friends joining in. Once again the lads and lasses took their parts.
*My sweetheart come along,
Don't you hear the fond song
The sweet notes of the nightingale flow
Don't you hear the fond tale
Of the sweet nightingale,
As she sings in those valleys below?
So be not afraid
To walk in the shade
Nor yet in those valleys below
Pretty Daisy, don't fail,
For I'll carry your pail,
Safe home to your cot as we go
You shall hear the fond tale
Of the sweet nightingale
As she sings in those valleys below
But she was afraid
To walk in the shade
To walk in those valleys below
Pray let me alone
I have hands of my own
Along with you I will not go,
To hear the fond tale
Of the sweet nightingale
As she sings in those valleys below
For I am afraid to walk in the shade
To walk in those valleys below.
Pray sit yourself down
With me on the ground
On this bank where sweet primroses grow
You shall hear the fond tale
Of the sweet nightingale
As she sings in those valleys below
So be not afraid
To walk in the shade
Nor yet in those valleys below
This couple agreed
They were married with speed
And soon to the bower did go
She was no more afraid
For to walk in the shade
Nor yet in those valleys below
Nor to hear the fond tale
Of the sweet nightingale
As she sung in those valleys below.
(*traditional folksong)
They were almost at the Market Place by then. Once more the lads darted in, but this time the lasses' linked hands gave way easily and Frodo and Bartimus swept in, forming a chair with their arms, to lift a giggling Fern off her feet and carry her to the wedding, laughing maids running ahead to strew their way with rose petals.
As they entered the square, the assembled villagers shouted, "Here comes the bride, here comes the bride." At one end of the crowded square an arch of ivy and blossom had been erected and beneath it stood a beaming Penly Whitfoot and a rather nervous Wyd Bracegirdle. Wyd's face cleared as he saw his bride, and as he and Barty set her down Frodo began to wonder whether Bilbo's misgivings about the match were wrong, for Fern gave her groom a wide enough smile.
Penly raised his arms and the cheering died down as groomslads and bridesmaids took their places to either side. "Fern and Wyd, today family and friends have come to witness you exchange vows and to share in the joy of this occasion." Penly had his faults but nobody ever complained about his skills officiating at weddings. Now he smiled at the young couple. "Love changes with the seasons and the passion of springtime will be replaced by friendship before a yule hearth. Nothing in life stays the same, just as an acorn becomes a seedling, a strong and mighty tree and then, in old age, a refuge for others. So, your life together will grow and many will come to roost in the safety of its branches."
At his signal, Wyd held out his hand and Penly carefully placed an acorn in the lad's palm.
"Fern and Wyd, do you declare that you are marrying of your own free will?"
Fern darted a glance aside. Her brother, Ortis, simply stared back with his usual sullen expression. Her mother gave a small nod of encouragement and Ted simply scowled. Fern straightened her back and joined her groom in replying clearly, "I do".
From a small table, Penly lifted two green silk chords, holding them aloft. "When your lives crossed you formed eternal bonds." He placed Fern's hand over Wyd's, with the acorn between, wrapping them lightly with the chords. Now Penly smiled at the bride. "Fern Sandyman, will you share in Wyd's pain and always try to ease it?"
Fern's, "I will," trembled a little.
"Wyd Bracegirdle, will you share in Fern's pain and always try to ease it?"
Wyd's reply was filled with conviction. "I will."
All within the market square declared aloud, "So the binding is made."
"Fern, will you share in Wyd's hopes and dreams?"
"Yes . . . I mean . . . I will." Fern blushed as her mistep produced some good natured chuckles.
"Wyd, will you share in Fern's hopes and dreams?"
"I will."
Everyone declared once more, "So the binding is made."
Penly grew serious. "Fern and Wyd will you honour each other as equals in this marriage?"
Wyn made a point of catching the eye of Ted Sandyman as he and Fern affirmed, rather emphatically, "I will."
Fern's mother had tears in her eyes as she joined others in calling again, "So the binding is made."
Penly placed his own hands upon the couple's. "Fern and Wyd, as your hands are bound together now, so your lives are joined in love and trust. The bond of marriage is not formed by these chords, but by the vows you have made, for you hold in your own hands the fate of this joining. May these hands be blessed this day. May they have the strength to hold through life's storms and the gentleness to nurture each other. May they build a marriage founded in love, and rich in caring."
Penly picked up a cushion, on which rested two plain gold rings. "I ask you to seal the vows you share by giving and receiving rings." He nodded to the bride. "Fern, please make your vow."
Fern lifted the larger of the two rings, her voice shaking a little as she vowed, "Wyd Bracegirdle, I will hold fast to you, for all the days of my life, until death parts us. To show that I have made this vow I give you this ring." Wyd held turned their bound hands so his was uppermost and she slipped home the ring on his third finger.
At Penly's nod Wyd took the second ring, holding it above his brides hand, his voice clear as he declared, "Fern Sandyman, I will hold fast to ye, fer all the days of my life, until death parts us. To show that I have made this vow I give ye this ring."
In her nervousness, Fern's finger must have swollen, for Wyd could not get the ring past her second knuckle. But Fern would not to be thwarted now. "Push!" she instructed loudly, wincing as Wyd complied. There was a round of embarrassed giggling, but Fern did not seem to care.
Penly unwound the cords, presenting one to each set of parents. It was noticeable that Ted passed his to his wife. "Accept these as a reminder of the vows made by your children. If ever their vows start to unravel, yours is the task of helping them to come back together."
Bartimus leaned in to whisper in Frodo's ear, "Ted will probably whip them into line with it." Frodo pretended he had not heard and Penly was speaking again before he could be forced to reply.
A beaming Penly raised his hands to declare, "Wyd and Fern, on behalf of all those present, and by the strength of your own love, I pronounce you married." He winked at Wyd. "You may seal your vows with a kiss."
Wyd did so, with great enthusiasm, and Frodo grinned when he saw Fern respond in kind. There was a roar of approval from those watching, accompanied by a round of applause as Fern and Wyd parted, their faces pink and eyes shining.
"The flowers! The flowers!" the bridesmaids called at once. With a twinkle in her eye, Fern lobbed her bouquet right at Daisy Gamgee, who nearly let it drop in her surprise. More than one person cast a knowing glance toward Bartimus Brockbank, who was looking rather smug.
"And now 'tis time fer the victuals!" called out Wyd's father, Dandy, to much applause and cheering.
-0-
It was mid afternoon by the time most of the food had been consumed and Wyd led his new wife to the cake, handing her the knife. Nedes Brockbank leaned in from Frodo's right to whisper, "Does Fern look a bit green to you?"
Fern was, indeed, looking a little pale and Frodo hoped this was not precursor to a bout of what Bell Gamgee referred to as, "the mornin' sickness", apparently an affliction of many expectant mothers. Having overheard more than his share of discussions between females when living at Brandy Hall, it was a wonder to Frodo that any lass ever entered into the act of coupling, with it's potential consequences.
Nedes dug Frodo in the ribs. "She does. I reckon she's goin' to cast up. I hope she doesn't do it all over the cake. Daisy tells me that cake has been soakin' in brandy for a week or more. . . says you could get tipsy just takin' a sniff."
Fortunately, Fern made it through the exchange of cake before Flora Bracegirdle and Betony Sandyman ushered her from the barn, ostensibly to freshen up before the dancing. Several of the male worthies of Hobbiton took that opportunity to approach Wyd, offering advice that produced much ribald laughter.
Bartimus joined Frodo's table, Daisy Gamgee on his arm. "I don't think Wyd needs advice," Daisy murmured with a grin. "He's got the tuppin' down well enough."
Bartimus feigned shock, then fell into a laugh. "Daisy Gamgee, I hope your Ma doesn't hear you talk like that."
Daisy tossed her curls. "What if she does? She knows, better than us, what those two have been gettin' up to."
Frodo sighed. "I think, despite Ted Sandyman's best efforts, all of Hobbiton knows, and the rest of the Shire will catch on when the babe is born in November."
Now Daisy shook her head. "Aye. There's bein' born early and then there's bein' born early. Nobody could pass off a nine month bairn for a six month one."
Bartimus glanced over his shoulder to where the bride, accompanied by both mothers, had reappeared. Fern had brushed her hair and her bodice laces had been loosened somewhat, so that she looked less wan. Indeed, she was smiling broadly at her new husband, who tucked her under a beefy proprietorial arm.
"They don't seem too fussed," Bartimus declared. "They're not the first couple to wed in a hurry, either." He nodded toward a sour-faced Ted Sandyman, who had been consuming a steady flow of cider all afternoon. "I think Ted's more upset than they are."
Ted was beckoning firmly to his wife, and Betony only had time to give one encouraging smile to her daughter before hurrying to his side. Daisy Gamgee frowned. "To hear Ted Sandyman tell it, Betony has him under thumb but 'tis clear who wears the breeches there."
Bartimus grabbed Daisy's hand. "Who'll wear the breeches in our smial, Daisy?"
Daisy disengaged her fingers to smack Barimus' arm. "Who says we're goin' to find that out?"
Bartimus winced, but grinned as he rubbed his injury. "The bouquet says so."
Daisy narrowed hazel eyes. "The bouquet may say I'm next to wed but it don't say who to."
Bartimus slapped a hand to his chest, announcing for all to hear, "Daisy Gamgee, you've broken my heart."
Daisy snorted. "Good."
"If I let you wear the breeches will you marry me?" her swain asked, with a bat of his eyelashes.
Daisy pursed her lips. "I'll think on it," she announced with a coy twinkle in her eyes.
"Aye. Well just make sure ye'll be gettin' wed fer the right reason. I'll not be looked down on by the likes of Ted Sandyman." All three jumped, as Bell Gamgee made her opinion known.
Daisy grabbed Bartimus' hand and met her mother's gaze a little mutinously. "Lots of folk get wed afore they come of age."
Bell narrowed her gaze at Bartimus, who disengaged his hand rather hurriedly. "Maybe we should get to know each other better before getting wed, Daisy," he declared, in a voice holding so little conviction and so much pleading that Frodo had to tuck down his head to hide a smile.
Daisy's mouth fell open, then she stood, in a flounce of starched petticoats. Sticking her nose in the air, she stomped off with not a backward glance to either Bartimus or her mother. Bell took a moment to pat Bartimus' shoulder before following her tweenage daughter at a more sedate but equally determined pace.
Bartimus dropped his head into his arms on the table and Frodo let loose the laughter he had been holding in. "You're going to have an interesting ten years, caught between Daisy Gamgee and her mother."
Bartimus looked up. "You don't suppose Mistress Gamgee would let us wed when I come of age? That's only five years."
His friend chuckled. "I wish you luck in arguing that one."
Bartimus dropped his head on his arms once more, his only response a long groan.
10