The steaming bowl filled with chopped carrots and potatoes didn't look as appetizing as it may have before. Merry set it on the middle of the dining table and backing away his look of repulse remained unchanged. "Food pulled from the dirt can never taste the same again," he said returning Frodo's side in the kitchen. "Each time I nibble a carrot root I think I shall taste… " He paused unable to say what he intended.
"Carrots, potatoes, and yes, our beloved mushrooms, have all been cultivated with manure for ages. My reaction was the same when the Gaffer first said it. But I have been thoughtful about it and you know, we didn't taste anything unusual yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that. " Frodo glanced hard to lean his point. "Here," he passed a small bowl of minced onions to his helper. "Toss these in the cauldron."
At first whiff Merry slighted his nose evading the onion fumes and quickly threw them into the simmering pot. "Still," he continued placing the bowl in the sink, "ignorance was bliss. It maybe all in my mind but I can never again eat a rooted vegetable without thoroughly washing it first."
"That is a very wise decision," responded Frodo in an agreeable chuckle. "I might suggest a sturdy-bristled brush to boot," he said over his shoulder while plating the main course. Finishing the presentation, he surrounded the meatloaf with a wall of cubed potatoes and dusted the whole with salt and pepper.
"Do you supposed that's what Lotho used to clean out his mouth?" Merry grinned while stirring a wooden spoon in the soup.
"If he didn't, I wish he would." Frodo snorted as he lifted the main course.
Proudly, Frodo carried his recipe to the dining table and as Merry looked on he grew quite eager to eat it. Then suddenly and unexpectedly, it fell to the floor with a dull thud, rolled twice over and crumbled in half. The squared potatoes scattered everywhere. Merry hovered over the pieces sorrowfully, speechless. Frodo sighed a curse to his fumbling hands and a mean growl turned in his stomach, he could've sworn it called him a nasty name.
***
The soup was still uninjured, so were the steaming bowl of carrots and potatoes. Eggs were prepared in replacement of the missing course. However, a decent-sized piece of meatloaf was salvaged, it's skin, dirty from rolling on the floor, was shaved off and thrown away with the other infected bits. The meatloaf resembled more a meat pile, no longer able to hold it's structure now removed from its outer layer. Wasting food ranked high among hobbit taboos and they avoided committing the sin with the only exception of engaging in another that proved far worse or ill.
At the beginning of the first serving Bilbo and unexpectedly, Saradoc, arrived from their day trip. Bilbo apologized again for running late disappeared in to his study to rest his satchel, then quickly reappeared. "I'm surprised you are just now beginning dinner," Bilbo said making his way across the parlor. "Though I'm quite relieved, my share of dinner is intact."
As Saradoc placed himself next to his son, the Master of the house sprinted to his prized cellar and adjourned holding two bottles of the Green Dragon ale. "Oh my," he said, "Didn't I return with enough ale to quench four hobbits for two dinners?" He looked inquisitively at Frodo, wondering if his memory was disserving him.
Merry froze in his seat; for a moment his appetite was lost. It was only his imagination, but he could already hear his father yelling and winced at the thought of it.
"The beer was calling out to us during lunch and Merry and I were obliged to accept it's enticing invitation," Frodo responded without looking up from his food. He wished he didn't have to lie but felt very sorry for Merry and had no misgivings in telling this little white one for his cousin's sake. Like many older hobbits who were parenting tweenagers, it was evident to Frodo that Saradoc's patience grew very thin. Likewise, any mistake Merry committed was amplified beyond repair.
Bilbo smiled again; his memory was still sharp. He volunteered halfing the bottles evenly but Frodo politely refused, "Let the long travelers enjoy full bottles. We've had enough for today." He secretly grinned and winked at Merry who received the signs appreciatively.
At that moment, a disruptive, angry pounding startled them, for it nearly broke down the front door. All four looked up at each other in a confused daze. Suddenly, realizing his role, Bilbo threw down his napkin and left his seat. "Coming, just a moment… just a moment," he reluctantly hurried to the door and opened it wide.
"Good heavens, Lobelia, Lotho and why, it's Master Hamfast and Samwise. What do I owe this surprise visit?" he tried to sound cheerful. Lobelia's eyes foretold she was on the verge of an abominable rage.
"We are sorry for interruptin' yer fine meal, Master Baggins, but there seems to be a--" Hamfast began just as Lobelia stepped in front of him and cut him off.
"There was an uncalled for and disgusting prank set on my son today! And your Brandybuck boy played part in it!" She burst stomping her foot. Frodo was every bit a Baggins as he was a Brandybuck, however, Lobelia thought otherwise. Now beside his uncle Frodo stood, concerned and mildly irritated.
"Lobelia, please," Bilbo attempted to soften her and put her off for another time, "we have guests. May we discuss this first thing after breakfast on the morrow?"
Offended she stepped back with her mouth aghast, "We most certainly will not! Don't try to get rid of me, Bilbo Baggins. Guests or no, I will have my say so." She barged in pushing Bilbo and Frodo out of the way. Lotho was on her arm, looking pitiful and dejected. Sam and Hamfast awaited respectfully to be invited in.
"Lotho, Lobelia," Saradoc nodded as he passed them to retreat to his room. Merry cracked a smile following closely behind his father, terrified of the Sackville-Bagginses.
"I want to know what you will do to compensate me and Lotho for our troubles and my precious time for coming here in the dead of night," she demanded. Outside, through one of the round windows, Frodo caught glimpse of the last rays of sun slipping under the horizon and rolled his eyes, 'dead of night, indeed,' he thought.
Bilbo took a deep breath and closed his eyes momentarily before he began. "First of all, what happened?"
"Your fool boy and his gardener covered my son in horse manure, that's what!" She looked squarely at Frodo and drove her finger to his chest, "I knew you were nothing but trouble as soon as you arrived in Hobbiton. Running amuck in the crowded holes of those no-good Brandybuck relatives." It was no use reminding Lobelia the chief members of the Brandybuck clan were within earshot. She most certainly knew and hoped they heard every word.
Sam called out, "Mr. Frodo was by-standing, he'd no doing in it. And, Lotho wasn't covered, I only gave him a taste," he explained trying not to laugh but barely succeeded. The Gaffer threw his son a stern glance. Sam diminished and gulped a lump down his throat.
Lotho cried like a toddler backed in to a corner, "Frodo gave the order! Sam does everything the Bagginses tell him!" There was nothing more satisfying than throwing Frodo into the middle of trouble. Lotho enviously believed it only fair, as Frodo was Bilbo's favorite nephew. Though by lineage Lotho was rightfully set to inherit Bilbo's estate.
"Mr. Frodo did no such thing you lying sack of ---" Sam jumped at Lotho submitting him behind his mother's skirt.
"Hush yourself, you gardener's boy!" Lobelia then turned to Hamfast, his eyes cast down to avoid fire that shot from her wicked stare; clearly he wanted to stay out of it. "I will make sure every well-to-do hobbit knows of your son's reckless antics unless this wrong is righted."
Sick of her ranting, Frodo stepped forward, "Speaking in Sam's defense, he would never commit such a deed if it were not warranted." Lobelia's sting had no meaning or threat to him. Honestly no one in all of Hobbiton, well off or not, paid any mind to the S-B's opinions anyway. Frodo's only regret was not joining Sam in throwing more manure.
"What in all of the Shire warrants shoveling that mess in his face?" Lobelia placed her hands on her hips. She had a veritable point and it would stand if Lotho weren't an obnoxious Sackville-Baggins.
"Insults and down lays was all he said if he said a word," said Frodo calmly.
"It isn't an insult if it's true!" Retorted Lobelia narrowing her eyes. "Good gracious! A well off Baggins friends with a common gardener," her glance moved to the Gamgee's, lifting her head so she may look down on them.
"Enough," Frodo said with a cold tone. Slowly, he moved to stand toe to toe with Lobelia and firmly planted his feet.
Sam tugged his arm and he pleaded, "Mr. Frodo, don't ruin your good name on account of mine."
At Sam's touch Frodo turned his profile to look at him. The waving light of the fire cast shadows on Frodo's face. He appeared older, fierce, but controlled. "Gamgee and gardener are good names, Sam. No one is going to ruin anything if I have a say so."
Sam's spine rose and he and his father stood very tall.
Frodo straightened his length and looked down at the crone. Unwaveringly he said in deepened voice, "Your son has no right to speak to me or my friends in a degrading manner. He has no call in who I shall make friends in and no reason to put himself above any hobbit. Lotho is lucky we did not dump the entire barrow over him, that is what he deserved."
Lobelia would not back down, although she wasn't one bit remorseful or scared she hadn't much to say in response. "Bilbo! Talk some hobbit sense into your boy," was all she could muster.
Aggressively but as gentle as he could, Bilbo lead Mistress Sackville-Baggins and her son, who was still latched on her arm, out the door, "I agree with Frodo whole-heartedly. Now I bid you a good night."
"Wait! I believe I need to be compensated--" she cried weighting her feet to stick the floor.
"Consider the bit of advice given as compensation for your time and for mine. Good night!" Bilbo said brightly and shut the door before he heard another word. "Stay with us awhile, won't you?" he asked of the Gaffer and Sam. "Trust me, you'd not want to share the road with scorned S-B's, especially if one of them is Lobelia."
"Aye," said the Gaffer as he followed Bilbo.
"Master Brandybuck, Merry," Frodo called in to the hallway, "It's safe to come out now."
Around the table sat the six hobbits recovering from the ordeal and hailing Frodo for his courage and deference. Eyes beaming with pride Bilbo hugged his nephew and said more kind words privately in to his ear. He retrieved more dinner plates and pantry items, sitting them before the Gamgee's. As Frodo retold the story giving every credit to Sam, Bilbo disappeared in to the cellar. Merry didn't at all mind hearing the tale a second go around it was as hilarious as the first. A popped cork called their attention momentarily and cheers emerged as Bilbo approached with glasses and a bottle of his father's famous wineyard. Generous volumes of the fragrant wine were poured for each.
Holding his head, Merry nauseously declined, "None for me, thanks."