All intended guests were prompt, a standard requirement though Bilbo rarely adhered to it himself. The commencement of the Gold Hand Toast* was just underway and proper formation began to assemble itself. A favorite tradition of Bilbo's he reserved it especially for smaller parties as the ceremony would run hours if the guest list were long. And never did he engage this tradition with the Sackville-Bagginses; the custom required kudos and compliments of which neither, in his opinion, the S-B's deserved. Bilbo remained obstinate in saying what he meant to hobbits he didn't favor and avoided saying niceties out of courtesy.
The wines were poured and the Gold Handing began. Forming a semi-circle, the guests faced the host who stood in front of the hearth. The secondary host, usually the mistress of the household, in this case the secondary celebrant, Frodo, was called to the host's right-hand side. The older Baggins raised his left-handed wineglass first. Traditionally following, guests lifted the wine with their right hand in succeeding order cascading like a row of dominos. First were Merry then Saradoc, then the Gamgee's, the Boffin's and the Bolger's. Essie Bolger, youngest in her family, was the anchor in the half circle and last to follow suit. Next, Frodo joined their raised glasses, however, in his left hand, and in unison the party engaged the "first try" or the first sip.
The second degree of the Gold Hand Toast ordained the host to address each family or family member, offering a nod of his glass, some pleasantries and genteel wishes. His most grateful speech he prepared for Merry, dedicating more words in his toast to him than he did to any one family. No one argued for truly a great merit he had achieved during The Rescue At Bywater Pool and to which Bilbo credited the young Brandybuck, "For without his courage the occasion tonight would be different indeed." At the conclusion of Guest Toasting the "second try" they then took together.
Thirdly, beginning with the most honored guest, Merry, they proceeded with Host Toasting. More of the praise was given to Frodo, who blushed at the attention, for his selfless act of bravery in saving the life of Essie Bolger. The older Baggins was cited for his generosity and captioned for his youthful appearance at the old age of one hundred ten. To conclude, tradition dictates the highest-ranking guest offered the last toast, usually some abbreviated well wishing. As candidate to the office of the Master of Buckland, Saradoc held high his glass and said, "Long life and many birthday parties to come for Bilbo and Frodo Baggins!" The others cheered in unison and drained the "last try" of their wine, thus the end of the ritual, the beginning of the dinner party.
A favorite custom of all hobbits was the distribution of birthday gifts from celebrants to their guests. Very dear families were elected to the guest list and as Frodo and Bilbo handed out the presents each were told in private reverence. They were small gifts, tokens really, but due to the Baggins' accord, appreciated in greater deference to their size. However, order and decorum were unlikely practices to any hobbit dinner party and no other formalized custom followed after the toast and gift-giving. The call for supper sounded instructing everyone to take seats at the well-dressed dinner table. Generous portions of wine and ale were poured. The Gold Hand Toast advantages guests to consume a full glass of wine before dinner begins and extends the opportunity to drink more as the evening lengthened. And as more wine flowed the reservations of even the most conservative fell lax. By the time birthday cake was being passed around the elders had each consumed well over their share of libation that they were unable to operate a spoon.
But the boys, Frodo, Merry, Fatty, Sam and Folco Boffin, plus Essie departed the watchful eyes of their parents long before the cake cutting. They huddled in the back garden around a small fire pit close to keep warm under the crisp moonlight grumbling amongst themselves. Despite their parents' inebriated state, often as they tried, none of the young hobbits could successfully smuggle out a drop of ale or wine. The elders accounted for each alcoholic beverage and confiscated bottles from their tweenager's thieving hands, discoursing one glass at the toast was their allotted quota.
When all seemed at despair, Frodo broke the silence and withdrew his wooden pipe and pouch. "Would either of you care for some Longbottom Leaf?" asked Frodo knowing the question needn't be asked.
"Yes, may I?" the youngest Bolger held out her hand.
The lads were flabbergasted by Essie's request. "I've not seen a lass light a pipe. It's not proper practice." Folco protested. He was quite annoyed.
"I have just right as you do," she said defiantly snatching the pipe from Frodo's hands. She proceeded to masterfully kindle the leaf with tinder and puff smoke with ease. More amazed than insulted the lads stared in silence.
Seeing as she had their attention, she began to spout knowledge of the sacred herb, "It was in the family of Hornblowers that pipe-weed came to be," she said taking little notice to disbelieving gawks.
"Ah, a lass knows no better on such matters." Folco remained indignant and unimpressed. Little did he know many years down the line this fact would gain heavy consideration by a great author of pipe-weed lore. "Pass that along, it's not yours to finish. You shouldn't have a puff at it in the first place." He extended his hand to receive it from her. Instead she exhaled a cloud of smoke he had to wave away for a good breath of air. The boys snickered as Folco silently fumed.
As the evening waxed the tweens sat in the secrecy of darkness passing around the pipe till leaf and conversation ran out. The air chilled them as the warmth from smoking and the fire faded. Nothing more was left to do and they retreated to Bag End. Before opening the back door to the smial, Frodo reminded them, "Not a word about the pipe-weed to anyone. It is to the discretion of your fathers at what age you are to begin smoking." They typically responded in irresponsible fashion, "Yes, yes… right… of course, we know, we know."
Upon entering they discovered many of the elders had retired to the spare bedrooms. Bilbo alone was left in the parlor extinguishing the lamps. "Ah, there you are," he said to them as they appeared, "we wondered for a second where you'd gone to. Then the next second we resumed our drink!" Loudly he laughed. Clearly he was drunk. "Sam, my lad, your folks walked home not a minute ago. You'd best follow and be quick! The Gaffer barely made it through the door without the aid of his wife, bless her. She's not all too well to walk herself." Sam waved and hurriedly excused himself. "Folco, you can find your parents in their room down the hall behind you."
"Bilbo!" A distant plea called from another hallway.
"Yes, Rosamunda?" He answered.
"My bedroom door won't open," she said hopelessly. The whine in her voice hinted to the volumes of wine she consumed.
"Give it a good push, my dear. That one tends to stick."
"I---" she started but laughed. "I fear Odovacar stumbled, fell asleep and is blocking the door. I hear him snoring." More laughter ensued.
Somewhat irked, Bilbo shook his head. "Come now, Fatty, Essie, let's intercept your parents from any further embarrassment."
Frodo reclined on to the fireside couch and Merry plopped next to him. The flames waved slightly, the fuel mostly burned off; it would not last for much longer. "Happy birthday, dear old Frodo. I'm glad you were here to celebrate it."
"Thanks to you Merry, I am here." Frodo replied affectionately.
Merry smiled back. "I can't keep my eyes open another second so I must leave." Sitting up to retire to his room he sang, "Where is rest for my weary head? I'm off to bed! I'm off to bed!"
But Frodo stayed put. Involved in the fading of the fire and too comfortable in his present seat, he grabbed the quilts from the adjacent armchair and folded himself between them. The day was long and fatigue was settling, but he did not give leave for sleep to overcome him. In a quiet reverie he stared, humming softly to himself and reflecting on these past days strange events. One year from this date his adulthood would begin and he wondered what paths lay ahead of him. He thought of his parents and of Bilbo and what expectations he needed to achieve to meet their satisfaction. Memories of his mother and father were fondly recalled: their hikes to fringes of the Old Forest, the moonlit night walks in the wood and boating on the Brandywine. Since birth Frodo grew to crave adventure, fortified by the romps he accompanied with his parents and from Bilbo's stories he wished to play part in. His soul ignited in him the desire to travel distantly and discover places heard or read only in story, but this tiny spark lay buried beneath his love of the Shire's boundaries, yet the light never extinguished and so at times he ached.
"Frodo? Is that you?" Someone whispered.
"Essie?" He replied. "What is it? Is something the matter?"
"I cannot sleep. I found a book in the guest room and came out here to read it," Essie replied.
"Then let me light a lamp for you." Frodo said peeling himself from the couch. She could not tell in the dark that he was grinning.
"You were about to sleep. I can read this in the morning. I don't want to trouble you." She said quickly.
"It's no bother. Sleep wasn't coming easy for me either," he justified kindling a nearby lamp. Looking up into the warmly lit room he saw Essie standing in front of him shivering in her nightdress. "You're quivering like a leaf!" In a rush of concern he tended her one of the quilts, wrapping her tightly. "I'll fetch more wood for a new fire."
"No, please don't. The blanket is warming quickly and soon I won't need it." Though she enjoyed the attention, she feared to be a bother. There was an awkward pause and both cast their eyes to the floor. Essie took her place in the armchair next to the lamp and directly attention to her book. She wanted Frodo to stay and chat with her but instead her mouth said other words, "Will the light disturb you? I don't want to keep you from retiring."
"I, I can go to my room," he said with troubled effort. "Goodnight, Essie."
As the door shut to his bedroom Essie slapped both hands over her face and mentally cursed herself for a long length. "Why didn't you ask him to stay, you tomfool donkey!" she cursed aloud remembering a name the Gaffer yelled out to Sam once before. The click of a door emerged from the hallway followed by nearing footsteps. Essie quickly reassembled herself with her nose in her book as if she'd been reading all along.
It was Frodo. "I'd nearly forgotten this," he interrupted in a meek tone. Essie looked up pretending to be slightly perturbed. "I wanted to give this to you." Frodo walked to her and placed a polished green bottle in Essie's hand. The meager lamplight danced on its bevels showing off its emerald hues. "It's the same one you saw in the Bywater Pool. There's heaps of them all over Bywater and Hobbiton but I figured you must've really wanted this one to jump in water you don't know how to swim in."
Essie giggled and stared lovingly at her most thoughtful present standing up to be close to him. She brought up her bright eyes and asked with the truth of her heart, "Is that the same reason you jumped in after me?"
This was the second time in one night the young lass stunned him. Again he repeated her question in his mind and raced through a field of emotions he was suddenly aware of. Recognizing his feelings brought him confidence and she could now see it in his face. Her gaze he did not break nor did he interrupt their silence. Gently he took the book and bottle from her and set them aside, then held both her hands between his, drawing her closer he kissed her.
*The Gold Hand Toast spawned from a dinner party hosted by Balbo Baggins, grandfather to Bilbo, when he premiered his first wineyard. His guests gathered round and as he raised his glass to them he said, "I could not sufficiently toast such a fine group of hobbits even if my hands were made of gold."