CHAPTER 4
1403 was an important year for the Gamgee family. In February Bartimus and Daisy Brockbank advised Bell and Hamfast that they were to be grandparents before the year was out. Frodo heard the news via Sam and came knocking upon the back door of Number Three just after luncheon the next day.
Marigold Gamgee opened the door, dimpling deeply when she recognised the visitor. "Hello, Mister Frodo. Come in out of the cold. Ma's just put the kettle on for a pot of tea."
Frodo stepped inside gladly, for the previous night's hard frost had a white rime still clinging to any area not yet directly touched by the sun, and allowed Marigold to divest him of his thick cloak. Bell Gamgee sat in her chair by the fire and the thought struck him that she looked a little drawn. Indeed, Bell had not looked well for some months, and Frodo had finally persuaded her to see Doctor Brockleby. What had passed between them, Bell never told him, but in his opinion she did not seem any the better for it.
"Good afternoon Mistress Bell. Sam told me your good news so I have brought a cake for the prospective grandparents. Bartimus and Daisy will get theirs when I go into Hobbiton for my shopping tomorrow."
Frodo settled upon a bench set beside the huge kitchen table. Number Three did not boast enough room for a parlour so the kitchen also stood duty for parlour and dining room. The huge scrubbed wooden table dominated its centre, with benches to either side that could be tucked beneath when not required. By the scrupulously black-leaded kitchen range, which served as both fire and cooker, sat the only two chairs in the smial, Hamfast's wooden armchair, with it's worn cushions, and Bell's rocking chair.
"And a very respectable cake it looks, Mister Frodo. Yer bakin' has got better this past year," Bell offered. In truth, it was a simple sponge cake, with a layer of raspberry jam and buttercream in the middle, but it was fluffy enough, with a golden top.
Her guest chuckled. "Arty's hens and your pigs got more cake than I did in those first few months. It's surprising how quickly one grows proficient when there's nobody else to cook for you. Bilbo showed me the basic skills but, in truth, I never really bothered much until after he left, because he liked to cook."
Frodo dosed his tea liberally with honey, for tea in the Gamgee household could stand up on its own, and tended toward 'bitter'. Bell set down her knitting as Marigold handed her a mug of dark tea. "Aye. Arty told me t'was well hens can't fly, cause with that cake in them they'd never leave the ground."
The ribbing was good-natured and Frodo laughed again. "Well, I promise you that this one is not sad in the middle. No more 'ring' cakes for me, ever since you showed me how to check it with a skewer." He accepted a plate from Marigold, containing a generous slice. Marigold cut another for herself but Frodo's disquiet grew when he saw the small sliver that Bell accepted. Perhaps it was time for another chat with the lady, alone, for the previously well rounded matron was becoming a shadow of her former self. He decided not to pass comment upon her lack of appetite, in the presence of her youngest.
"Do you know when the baby is due?" Frodo enquired politely, after swallowing his first bite of cake and deciding that his baking skills had most definitely improved.
Bell shook her head. "Well, now, there's the problem. Ye know that our eldest, Hamson, is to wed in Tighfield on the tenth of August? Well, according to Aster Tunnelly, our Daisy's due about the same time. So she can't travel." Aster was the local midwife and rarely wrong in such matters.
"We were all going to the weddin' but Ma says she won't leave Daisy alone. I've been tryin' to tell her that the midwife will help, and Barti's family is close by," Marigold interjected with a frown.
"I'll not have my first grandchild born without me and that's flat," Bell announced firmly. "I've told ye all to go without me. They'll be that busy on the weddin' day they'll hardly notice I'm not there." She shot a speaking glare at Marigold. "Especially if everyone else is there."
Marigold rolled her eyes and Frodo grinned. "You know where I am if you need me, Mistress Bell. Don't worry, Marigold, I'll look after her."
Bell snorted. "I been lookin' after myself longer than ye've been alive. I'll not fall to pieces alone, here. In fact, mayhap I'll get some cleanin' done without lots of folk hangin' on my skirts."
Marigold grinned and Frodo had to hold back a laugh, for Number Three Bagshot Row was probably one of the cleanest homes in Hobbiton.
It was almost two months before Frodo managed to get his time alone with Bell. The May festival was on the morrow but Frodo came home early from gathering the blossom, because he had an appointment later that afternoon, with Ted Bracegirdle, about some small repairs to the properties on Bagshot Row.
The day was warm, so many homes had flung open their doors and windows to the gentle spring sunshine. As he was passing Number Three the sound of low moaning arrested his steps, however. From his place by the gate he could look directly into the smial, and what he saw had him racing into the kitchen, for there was Bell Gamgee, arms about her middle, rocking back and forth by the sink.
"Mistress Bell! Bell. Whatever is the matter? Can I help?"
She turned pleading eyes to him, set in a face that was almost grey. "Chair."
Frodo decided that bringing the chair to Bell was the safest option. Bell dropped into it with a grunt and began to rock, the creak of the runners running counterpoint to her groans, as Frodo dropped to the floor before her and touched a hand to her knee. "Should I fetch the doctor or send for Mister Hamfast?"
Bell shook her head, managing to bite out between clenched teeth, "Medicine, by my bed."
Frodo had never been in any of the bedrooms of Number Three and the room's small size surprised him. The bed sat hard beneath the window. There was a curtained corner which he assumed served as wardrobe, a washstand in another corner, and a small cupboard by the bed, so it was easy to find the requested bottle. Returning to the kitchen, he read the dosage and trickled two spoonfuls into Bell's mouth. Then he waited. By the old mantle clock it was nearly twenty minutes before Bell began to regain some colour and straighten in her chair. Once she did, Frodo stood. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"No. Mayhap a drop of water, if ye don't mind."
Filling a mug, he placed it in her hands, before taking a seat upon the end of the bench at her side. "Whatever is the matter, Bell? You didn't tell me the outcome of your visit to Doctor Brockleby, and I am loath to pry, but this is obviously serious. Please let me help you."
Bell Gamgee sipped at her water for a while, obviously considering. Then she set down her mug with a sigh. "Tis the fat sickness," she announced, baldly.
"The fat sickness? I don't think I've heard of such a thing. Is it why you've not been eating much?"
"Aye. The doctor says there's somethin' inside yer body that helps the tummy to deal with the fat ye eat. Seems mine has stopped working and if I eat somethin' fatty or eat too much I get an awful pain."
"And the medicine helps?" Frodo asked.
"A bit. It's really just pain medicine. Bill says there's no cure." Bell looked to the ceiling, obviously trying to hold back her tears, and Frodo slipped his spare hanky into her hand, swallowing back his own fears. He must be strong for Bell now.
"Surely it's just a matter of eating the right food?"
Bell shook her head. "No. See, as Bill tells it, the thing is a little bag. It fills up with some stuff that it sends out to the tummy when ye eat. For me, the tube 'tween bag and tummy is blocked. Sometimes the blockage passes but one day it wont. Then the bag just goes on fillin' and will likely burst. When that happens..." She grimaced.
"What will happen?"
Bell laid a careworn hand upon Frodo's. "That will be it, lad. Bill says I could be one of the lucky ones, and go fast."
"Oh Bell, no! Surely there's something we can do? Perhaps I could find another doctor for you. With all the respect due to Doctor Brockleby, he works in a small village. Perhaps someone from Michel Delving or Great Smials would have more knowledge."
She patted his hand. "No. Tis what it is, lad. I've told my Ham but not the youngsters. They don't need that spoilin' their lives. They know I'm sick but they don't need to know the rest yet."
Frodo gave a wan smile. "That's why you didn't tell me, isn't it?"
"Aye, lad. Yer older but ye've got yer own life to lead and yer still findin' yer feet. I'm sorry ye had to find out. I didn't mean to burden ye." She sniffed, offering a rueful smile. "Pain sometimes makes ye say things ye shouldn't."
Now Frodo jumped to his feet. Bell had comforted him through difficult times, ever since his arrival in Hobbiton as a young tween. Selfish as it seemed, he could not bear the thought of losing her now. "Shouldn't! Shouldn't? Of course you should tell me." He began to pace. "If nobody in the Shire can help maybe, maybe I could get a message to the elves. Bilbo used to write to Rivendell. I'm sure I remember how to do that. Elves have all kinds of magic."
Bell's firm injunction cut through his tirade. "No."
Frodo spun about, open-mouthed.
Bell continued. "This village has trusted Doctor Brockleby for as long as I remember. He knows what he's about and I don't need no other. As for elves. Well, I know ye and Mr Bilbo trust them, but I'm old fashioned. I'll stick with what I know, although I thank ye kindly for the offer."
"But…"
Once more, Bell stopped him. "No Frodo, lad. The best way ye can help me is to keep this to yerself. Mayhap I'll need more help later and I hope I'll be able to count on ye for that. Our Daisy is carryin' a bairn and I've got to be there for her, so I'm goin' to go on for as long as I can. We've all got to go sometime but, if ye don't mind, I'm goin' to ask a favour of ye."
Frodo dropped to the bench at her side once more. "Name it, and I shall make it happen."
Bell let out a soft chuckle. "No need fer the drama, lad. If I'm not there, will ye make sure our Daisy is looked after? Bartimus is a good lad but he's still young yet and tis their first bairn."
"Of course I will. Although you do know that Barti is older than me?"
"I do, but I also know everyone needs a little help sometimes. When I go, tis likely that folks will be too tied up in their own thoughts to pay attention to Daisy and Bartimus. I want ye to promise me that ye'll be the one to give that attention. The others will pull 'round with time, but they'll have a bairn to care for too."
Frodo took her hand between both of his. "I promise, Bell."
"Good. Now give me a hug to seal the deal, and because I think we both need one."
Frodo complied willingly, all too aware that the figure within his arms did not have the soft roundness it once had.
Over the next months Frodo watched Bell Gamgee grow more and more frail and, consequently, Hamfast cut back on his days away from home, dropping the last of his work outside Hobbiton. The reduction in the Gamgee family budget was more than covered by coin paid to Sam for working at Bag End. He was paid by the hour, so Frodo made sure to find him plenty to do to make those hours longer.
As August approached Hamfast began to baulk at leaving his wife for any length of time, but Bell was steadfast in her insistence that as many of the family as possible attend the wedding of their oldest son. Daisy was huge by now, and travelling to the East Farthing on bumpy roads, even in a cart, was strenuously forbidden by both doctor and midwife.
On the seventh of August Frodo stood at the gate to Number Three, with Bell, Bartimus and Daisy, to wave off Sam, May, Marigold and Hamfast. May had arrived from Tuckborough the previous day. Frodo had insisted that the family should not have to walk such a distance and, against only the mildest protest, hired Tom Carter, stating that it was his wedding gift to Hamson and his wife-to-be, Clover. As soon as the cart disappeared around the bend at the bottom of the lane, Bell sagged and Frodo helped her back indoors.
Once she settled into her chair she seemed to rally. "Now, Daisy, ye and Bartimus need to get on with yer own life. I can manage well enough. Mister Frodo here has promised to pop in of an evenin' to make sure I'm alright and I can knock on the wall fer Daddy Twofoot if tis urgent."
Daisy was having none of it, however. "I've told you before, Ma. I'll not have you here alone while you're so sick. I still don't understand why you don't see another doctor neither. Doctor Brockleby don't know what he's doin' in my eyes. I've heard tell of another doctor in Frogmorton; trained by the Thain's own doctor they say."
"That's enough, Daisy. We've talked on this afore. Doctor Brockleby has always been good enough for Hobbiton folk, and ye've got yer own cottage to look after. Bartimus needs a good meal when he gets home of an evenin' and ye've still got things to do to get ready for that bairn. I'll be right enough with Mister Frodo callin' in once a day. Off with ye all, now. I've one or two things to see to and then I think I'll take a nap afore supper."
Bell made shooing motions and Bartimus turned his wife about, to lead her firmly, despite her loud protests, through the door and down the path. Frodo grinned, knowing that Daisy would argue all the way home. When he closed the door and turned back, it was to find Bell filling the kettle. "Let me do that for you."
"Oh, stop yer fussin'. I can make a pot of tea, even cook my own supper if I've a mind to. I'm not that far gone. Get away home, afore this weather closes in. My Ham's joints were achin' this mornin', so I reckon tis goin' to rain afore sundown. And ye needn't call in tonight. Ye've seen me once today."
Frodo decided to retreat, for the moment. "Very well. I'll leave you alone for the rest of the day, but I will pop my head around the door after supper." Bell gave him a mutinous glare but her neighbour only grinned. "Your glare doesn't scare me anymore, Bell Gamgee. I'll see you later." With those words he slipped out and back up the hill to his own home.
Daisy was truly her mother's daughter and Frodo watched her climb Bagshot Row every morning, basket of food on her arm. It amazed him how large she had grown. He'd seen plenty of expectant ladies over the years. Hobbits were a fecund lot, as Bilbo used to say, but the eldest Gamgee lass seemed to do pregnancy as boldly as she did everything else in her life. There had never been any half measures with Daisy. Her walk was ponderous and a little pigeon-toed of late, but no less determined as she toiled up the hill from Hobbiton, and her visits meant that Frodo did not need to do much in the way of shopping for his neighbour. Not that he would have refused if needed. Indeed, seeing Daisy, he had approached her on the matter, but she would brook no argument, stubbornly stating, "Tis a daughter's place to look after her Ma."
Frodo did make a point of slipping in every evening after supper, however. Depending upon how Bell was feeling, sometimes he would just make them a pot of tea and stay for a few minutes, and at other times they would chat for a couple of hours, until Frodo felt awash with tea.
On the fourth day Frodo looked out of his window to see Daisy, head bent against a rain squall, stop to wrap an arm about her middle, as she climbed the lane. The rain was obviously precursor to a storm, that Frodo, and just about everyone else, had been watching build. Clouds darkened as the powerfully gusting wind drove black clouds in from the east. From the comfort of his parlour window Frodo had seen laundry being rescued from washing lines, tools placed in sheds, and animals led to sheltering barns. He hoped the little smials along the river bank would not be flooded again. Now he abandoned his mug, not even pausing to grab his cloak, before pelting down the lane, through the driving rain.
"Daisy, are you alright?"
Daisy lifted her face to his and he read the fear there. "I had to come the long way round, by the stone bridge. You know how slippery the wood bridge gets when it's raining. Then I went and fell at the bottom of the lane. Oh, Frodo, I think my waters have broke! What if I've killed my bairn?"
Frodo slipped an arm about her shoulders, as much in comfort as support. "Let's get you inside first. Then we'll sort out the rest and I'll go for Aster if necessary. Lean on me, now." By the time they reached the round yellow door of Number Three, Bell Gamgee was waiting and she helped Frodo usher her daughter to the rocker by the range, where a low fire glowed to heat water.
"Daisy Brockbank, what was you thinkin', comin' out in this weather, in yer state? I thought I'd bred more sense in ye." For all her harsh words, Bell's frown showed more concern than anger.
"Sorry, Ma. A gust of wind took me and I fell. Have I killed my bairn? Oh, Ma. Tell me my bairn isn't dead!"
Bell cut through the rising panic. "I'll have a feel in a minute lass. Mister Frodo, would ye kindly run and fetch Aster Tunnelly?"
Frodo bolted for the door, pausing only when Bell called after him, "And put that cloak on. There's enough trouble round here without ye catchin' a chill as well. And see if ye can send someone fer Bartimus."
Accepting the sense of his neighbour's exhortation, Frodo grabbed Hamfast's thick old winter cloak, from a line of pegs behind the door, and stepped out into the downpour. He could not remember ever having run down Bagshot Row so quickly or so carelessly. Rain had all but overwhelmed the ditch to his left and mud made the lane treacherously slick under foot. It was no wonder that Daisy had slipped, particularly with the wind tugging this way and that. As it was, the cloak was almost as much hindrance as help, as the wind wound it about and between his legs, threatening to trip him with every wayward gust.
When Frodo reached the Water he could see large groups of people helping to move belongings from the river bank smials onto carts. No doubt they would be put in Tom Cotton's barn for safe keeping until the flood subsided. Several beckoned for his help but Frodo had to refuse, shouting over the wind to tell them he was on other urgent business. The wooden bridge actually looked in danger of being swept away so he continued on to the stone one. That at least seemed secure for it had stood strong for generations.
Once over the bridge he ducked into the Ivy Bush, knowing that there would always be someone about. When he arrived, sodden, Borden offered him a bar towel to wipe his face while he regained his breath. "What can I get ye, Mister Frodo?"
"Is Whitly around? I need him to find Bartimus Brockbank. Daisy is at her mother's smial and she's about to have their baby."
Borden stuck his head through the kitchen doorway. "Whitly!"
Borden's pot-boy appeared from the kitchen, sandwich in hand. He gulped the last mouthful as Borden all but shouted, "Go fetch Bartimus. I think he said he was workin' for Farley Brownlock this week. Tell him to get to Number Three, Bagshot Row, as fast as he can." Whitley did not question, onl grabbed his cap and darted out of the inn.
"Thank you, Borden. Now I have to be off to Aster's cottage." Frodo was about to follow Whitly when Borden called after him.
"Aint no use goin' there. Aster's away at her sister's in Frogmorton. Got an urgent message yesterday, about their Ma dyin'. And Doctor Brockleby's took to his bed with a bad cough. Daisy won't want him at a birthin' with a cough like that."
"What? But Daisy is going to have a baby!"
Borden shrugged his shoulders. "Bell Gamgee's had enough bairns of her own to know what to do."
"But Bell is…" Frodo bit off his words, knowing how proud Bell Gamgee was.
"Bell's what?"
Frodo dove out of the door, shouting over his shoulder, "Never mind."
The wind and rain pummelled him at once, bringing back memories of the awful storm of 1391. At least this year had been a good summer and most of the harvest was already in.
When he returned to Number Three he at first found no sign of mother or daughter, then he heard a cry from the bedrooms. For the length of that gut wrenching cry, every fibre of his body wanted to flee up the hill to the peaceful sanctuary of Bag End. Then he thought of the frail Bell Gamgee, threw his wet cloak on the kitchen table, shook the worst of the water from his hair, and knocked at Bell and Ham's bedroom door. "It's Frodo. May I come in?"
"Aye, sir. Daisy's decent enough," came Bell's quiet reply.
Daisy had managed to strip down to her shift and was tucked into her parent's bed. Bell sat upon the mattress at her side, looking weary but determined.
Frodo decided to impart the good news first. "Borden Brewer has sent Whitly to find Barti."
Daisy smiled apologetically. "I forgot to tell you, he's workin' at the Cotton's today."
Mentally, kicking himself for not consulting Daisy before fleeing the scene, he hoped Whitly would reach the prospective father eventually. Bell must have seen something in his demeanour. "Yer here awful quick to have got to Aster's and back."
Frodo winced. "I'm sorry. Borden says she had word of her mother's death and has gone to Frogmorton."
Bell's expression remained calm. "Doctor Brockleby?"
Daisy saved him replying. "He's sick." Her face crumpled. "Oh Ma, what will we do? My bairn is goin' to die!"
Her mother sniffed and Frodo saw an echo of the old Bell Gamgee. "Oh wisht yer snivellin' lass. Folks were havin' bairns long afore we had midwives and doctors. That one of yours is kickin' fine, and I birthed yer brother, Halfred, in a barn with just yer Da to help. I've had enough myself to know how this goes."
"A barn?" both younger hobbits asked in shocked unison.
"Aye. Halfred were eager to get here and yer Da and me were helpin' out at the Cotton's fer the harvest." Bell grinned. "I thought Tom Cotton were goin' to have a fit when he saw me on his barn floor, with my feet on Ham's shoulders and a bairn half out."
Daisy blushed and Frodo blanched, deciding that really was not an image he wanted in his head. He noted that her words cut through Daisy's rising panic, however.
"Do you need me to do anything, Mistress Gamgee? Should I boil water or would you like me to fetch someone else?" Frodo winced in sympathy as Daisy gasped, rolling onto her side to curl about her pain and letting out another long, low, moan.
Bell sighed. "Why do lads always want to boil water as soon as a lass starts into labour? There's hours yet, lad, although you'd do well to build up the fire." Bell reached beneath the covers to rub her daughter's lower back. "Ye can fetch my chair, if ye would, and Frodo…"
"Yes, Mistress Gamgee?"
"I think we'll get rid of the Misters and Mistresses in here. Daisy's goin' to have precious little dignity left at the end of this so lets drop the formalities."
"Yes Mi…Bell."
The day wore on and by early evening there was no sign of either bairn or prospective father. Bell Gamgee sat in her rocker at the bedside and Frodo grew more and more concerned for her stamina. Daisy's pains were growing closer and closer together and, from the noises she was making, more and more intense. Frodo was drafted into service mopping her brow and providing sips of water, while Bell rubbed her daughter's back.
After a particularly intense period Bell sank back in her chair, reaching for her medicine bottle and spoon. "I'm sorry, but I'm goin' to have to ask ye to take over for a bit, Frodo. And we need to take a look at how things is goin'."
Both Frodo and Daisy looked to her in some alarm and Bell raised her brows. "What? I ain't goin' to fall apart on ye. I just need a bit of a rest is all. I'm just not up to clamberin' on beds right now."
Frodo looked askance at Daisy, who met him with a mullish gaze.
Bell swallowed her medicine and tilted her head at Frodo. "Don't tell me ye've never seen 'neath the skirts of a lass, Frodo Baggins. Ye may not have done anythin' about it but I've seen ye slip into the bushes with many a willin' maid at Harvest Reel."
Frodo felt himself colour from the hair on his toes to the hair on his head. For her part, Daisy announced, "He may have seen other lasses bits and pieces but he aint never seen mine and he aint startin' now!"
"Well, somebody's got to see 'em and I don't see no-one else in this room, Daisy Brockbank," Bell pointed out with an exasperated sigh.
Daisy and Frodo locked eyes for several moments longer. Daisy finally let out a huff. "Alright."
"Sense at last," her mother declared. "Right, lad. Fold back the covers to her waist. Daisy, spread yer legs and bend yer knees. Ye should know how to do that." Now it was Daisy's turn to blush, but she followed instruction.
"Frodo, ye'll have to climb on the bed. I want ye to reach in, gentle mind, and see what ye can feel."
In the process of complying Frodo paused. "Reach…in?"
At the astonished expressions of both parties Bell rolled her eyes. "Aye. In. It's the hole at the front."
With an apologetic glance at Daisy, Frodo followed instructions, although he had to wait while she breathed through another contraction before complying. He studiously avoided looking at Daisy's face again as he did so.
"Here, what's goin' on? What are you doing with my wife, Frodo Baggins?"
Frodo looked up to find a very angry-looking Bartimus Brockbank glaring at him from the bedroom doorway. He suspected that, had he not had his hand trapped within Daisy's nether regions, he would have found himself in possession of several broken bones and a black eye. "Bell made me," was all Frodo could come up with, as he very carefully removed his hand and scrambled quickly off the bed.
"Barti. You're here!" Daisy's initial cry of delight quickly morphed to anger. "And just where do you think you've been, while I've been birthing your bairn?"
"What? You've had him…er…her?" Bartimus jumped forward and Frodo took the opportunity to retreat to the wash basin in the corner.
"Course she hasn't," Bell replied. "But we need to know how close she is. What did you feel, Frodo?"
From the relative safety of his corner Frodo replied, "I can't be sure, but I thought I felt something."
"Of course ye felt somethin'! What sort of somethin'? Were it hard, soft, empty, what?" Bell tutted. "Lads is useless in a birthin' room. Ye remember that next time, Daisy," she exhorted.
Daisy scowled at her husband. "There won't be no next time."
Before Bartimus or Daisy could fall to debating that matter, Frodo stepped out of his corner. "It felt … well … hairy and slippery."
Bell gave a broad grin. "Well, now. Seems this un's takin' after her Uncle Hamson. Ye can leave the covers folded back, Frodo." She turned her attention back to Daisy. "Next time the pain comes, if ye want to push, do it. But try to keep it slow and gentle. If ye push too hard ye could tear yerself."
When Daisy's eyes widened her mother only shook her head. "I can still tie a stitch if I have to, lass, but for both our sakes I'd be obliged if ye'd listen for once."
"Bartimus, as yer so snippy about Frodo doin' it, strip down to yer shirt and breeches, wash yer hands and get yerself on this bed."
Bartimus followed instruction and a very relieved Frodo moved to stand at Bell's chair. Even by lamplight he could see that she was growing pale, and bent to her ear to ask if she needed more of her medicine. "What time is it?" she replied beneath a loud scream from Daisy, who had apparently decided that, if she was suffering, the whole world should know about it. Frodo suspected that her cries could be heard down in the village, even over the sound of the storm.
He stuck his head out of the door to check the mantle clock in the kitchen, surprised to discover that it was past supper time. "Eight o'clock," he murmured. "It's six hours since your last dose."
"Then I can have more. Thank ye, lad." Bell took her medicine as Bartimus rocked his wife through another contraction.
"Alright, Barti, lad. What can ye see?"
Bartimus clambered between his wife's legs, eyes widening as he said, "I think I see a head. It's right at the opening."
"About bloody time," Daisy muttered.
"Daisy Brockbank, I've told ye afore. I'll not have foul talk in my home. Bartimus, I want ye ready to catch yer bairn, then lay it on Daisy's belly while ye cut the chord. Tie two pieces of thread, tight about it, and about a hand-span apart. Then use that sharp knife to cut in between. Daisy, ye just push when ye feel the urge, but remember what I said about slow and steady."
"What can I do?" asked Frodo.
"Well, some of that hot water ye were so keen on earlier wouldn't go amiss. We'll soon have some cleanin' up to do."
Frodo followed instruction but discovered that, having spent most of the day wanting to escape, now he didn't want to leave. He was back with a ewer of hot water in time to see a small, slippery body laid upon Daisy's exposed belly. All eyes fixed upon the small creature. At first the bairn was still and grey, but as an awestruck Daisy ran her hand along the tiny spine the small mouth opened to emit a wail and grey skin began to flush pink.
Bartimus turned a beaming face to his friend. "It's a lass, Frodo."
Bell was all business, however. "Aye, well, if yer lass is goin' to live her own life she needs that chord cuttin' Bartimus. Daisy, ye'll feel the need to push again soon. There's the afterbirth to come."
Frodo watched in fascination as the new father severed the physical connection between mother and child.
Half an hour later the room was tidy and Bartimus and an exhausted Daisy settled, side by side, on the bed, daughter cradled in their joined arms. A besotted Frodo watched from Bell's side. "What are you going to call her?"
The new parents turned to an equally exhausted grandmother. "Bell," they announced together.