The Wedding Breakfast
Chapter 1
Afterwards, everyone said Periwinkle Took was the prettiest, most charming bride of her generation. There was no doubt that Periwinkle's dark curls, creamy skin and shining gray eyes made an enchanting picture as she stood under the bridal arch in the garden of Great Smials with her groom, Halmeth Stooptoe. The weather was hot by mid-morning but the sky was blue and cloudless. A wonderful day for a Shire wedding.
Envious hobbit maids noted every detail of the wedding dress made of materials imported all the way from mysterious lands beyond Bree. The gown was a pale blue satin with silver lace at the bodice and along the flounced hem. The stiffened underskirt was of white satin embroidered with silver thread. The broad-shouldered groom cut a fine figure in a dark blue velvet coat and knee breeches with a silver waistcoat. His twin brother, Domfast, stood up with him during the ceremony and the unmarried lasses unanimously agreed he looked just as handsome as the groom did.
Of course, the bountiful table set for the wedding breakfast and the free- flowing ale, beer and rare wines tended to give a nice mellow glow to memories of the whole affair.
The bride's family in the Shire traditionally provided the wedding meal after the ceremony. In recent years, a wedding breakfast had become fashionable. The term "breakfast" was quite flexible, however, and could last well into the afternoon by the time the festivities commenced. Indeed, at events the size of this Took wedding, the meal was essentially an unending feast, continually replenished from the well-stocked larders of Great Smials.
Wedding guests partook of pigeon-pie, ham, and goose; a round of cold boiled beef cut from a small cow, driven over from Bree especial for the occasion the week before; and endless loaves of soft white bread served on wooden trenchers with drippings of honey and sweet butter. Stout servers puffed up from the kitchens with large platters of hot food; kidneys, steaks with succulent broiled mushrooms, poached eggs, rashers of bacon, sausages, boiled potatoes with onions, buttered toast and muffins, and tea. Although officially a breakfast, there was also a wide selection of sweets, pies and tarts.
Hobbit matrons in attendance agreed the gardens were especially lovely for the occasion. The Took gardeners had spent the past days feverishly devising a wedding garden and bridal arch for the new couple, composed of the plants and flowers hobbits associated with good fortune. The bridal arch, covered in ivy to represent fidelity, was studded with forget-me-nots and Queen's Lace, then entwined with golden fairy lanterns. There were carefully designed beds of white trillium, for purity; pansies, for merriment; honeysuckle, for honesty; hyacinths, for constancy; and buttercups for prosperity. The bride carried azaleas to evoke passion. The guests were provided with grains of barley to toss at the couple and ensure numerous, healthy progeny.
Yes, thought Petronilla Took to herself as she strolled regally through the gardens, she had given her only child and daughter a proper send-off. She stopped occasionally to graciously accept the congratulations and good wishes of friends and family.
Raucous laughter echoed across the garden. She knew that sound. She turned to see her husband Berengar slap the back of a friend companionably. Berengar laughed uproariously when the hapless friend choked and spewed his cider all over the other drinkers. Petronilla shook her head with affectionate exasperation. As usual, Berengar was having a marvelous time with his friends and cousins, helped along by the ale they quaffed down with merry abandon.
To look at him, you would think this wedding had been paid for with Berengar's own funds and taken place in his own spacious gardens rather than those of his cousin Paladin Took, the current Thane. The genteelly decaying cottage of Berengar and Petronilla, a mile from Tuckburrow, could never have accommodated this grand a gathering, nor their purse its cost.
"Thank goodness for Took family loyalty and generosity," Petronilla thought, "for Berengar has the name but has never possessed the Took ability to put two silver pennies together and get eight!"
But Petronilla depended on this wedding to change all that. Their dear Periwinkle had the good fortune to catch the eye of the son of one of the most prosperous farmers in the Shire. Petronilla Took noticed the attraction early on and had done her research discreetly and well.
Ivo Stooptoe had taken the knowledge gained in his youth tending the fields of the Hornblower clan and started growing pipe weed on his own farm that was set fair to rival the most famous Shire leaf. Although well into his middle years, he had managed to marry Dionesia Hornblower, only child and heir to that noble pipe weed fortune. This simply increased Ivo's reputation for cleverness.
Ivo and Dionesia proceeded to surprise and delight the Southfarthing when they promptly produced twin boys, Domfast and Halmeth, or Dom and Hal, as they were universally known. Although large families were not unusual among hobbits, twins were rare and considered good fortune for the lucky parents.
The Stooptoe household was known as a happy one, even though no further children graced it. Dionesia ran a well-ordered, comfortable house but it was not at all grand like Great Smials or Brandy Hall. Stooptoe Hollow was located some three miles south of the town of Longbottom. It was a large rambling structure, with the oldest parts carved well back into one of the rolling hills of the Southfarthing, and newer additions built outside the hill, after the manner of the houses of the Big People.
Petronilla had not bothered to look much further than the well-known prosperity and ambition of the Stooptoe family. If she had, she might have been surprised. All the local families knew that to ring the front door bell of Stooptoe Hollow would result in quite a long wait for a response. Friends were expected to come round to the kitchen door where Dionesia was almost always to be found cooking or working in her nearby still room.
Dionesia had only one maid-of-all-work to help her, Goldcorn Puddlefoot. Between them the women did all the cooking for the farm laborers, although an extra maid might be hired to help during the harvest when the number of workers could double. Despite her well-to-do background, Dionesia never put on any airs. She was frugal with a penny but generous at table, one of the many reasons Ivo keenly appreciated her.
The new bride would find her good-mother kind, supportive and loving. But the new Took in-laws were not going to find Dionesia Stooptoe an easy touch.
Comfortably unaware of the mettle of her new relative, Petronilla waved at Dionesia and moved gracefully through the throng of well wishers to where the mother of the groom stood with her other son, Domfast. Musicians played a popular tune and hobbits of all ages whirled merrily around a cleared space under some trees. Petronilla proudly noted her daughter and son-in-law danced with outstanding grace and energy. She saw Domfast watching the happy couple and thought he looked rather somber considering this was his brother's wedding.
"Now, Dom," she said tapping his arm playfully when she arrived to stand next to him and his mother. "You need to get right out there with the other young people and dance. I am sure there is another hobbit maid somewhere here just waiting for you to sweep her off her feet."
Dionesia smiled and said wryly, "Yes, I believe that is Amaryllis Bogbean over there trying to catch your eye. I think she would like to dance. Either that, or she is suffering from an unfortunate twitch." Dom rolled his own eyes at his mother for the girl loved nothing more than the sound of her own voice. But Stooptoes never shirked their duty.
Dionesia's eyes twinkled as she gave him a small push in the direction of Mistress Bogbean. "At least Amaryllis can dance. Betony Broadleaf is on her way over and that girl has been responsible for more sore feet on the dance floor than I can remember. So be off with you, there's a good lad."
Wisely picking the lesser of two evils, Dom led Amaryllis out for an energetic reel that left the dancers little time or breath for talking. She was a good dancer and did not have the opportunity to chatter. So Dom was able to say with complete honesty that he had a fine time by the end of two sets when he delivered Amaryllis back to her family. Because she could properly expect him to offer to get her some punch and spend time in conversation with her afterward, Dom cast about for a plausible excuse to make his escape.
His attention was caught and held by figures near the laden tables. He had his alibi. "Pardon me, Amaryllis, but I see my father with some family friends and he is signaling for me to come over." Moving adroitly as hobbits can, Dom eluded Amaryllis' grasp and quickly maneuvered around the dancers and over to the diners.
He really had seen his father sitting at a table with some other guests, but Ivo by no means required his son's presence and was surprised when Dom popped up at his side, slightly out of breath.
"Where did you rabbit over from, boy?" said his father in his rough country accent. Marrying Dionesia Hornblower had been a sizable step up the social ladder for Ivo Stooptoe, but it never changed him from the Southfarthing farm lad he had once been.
"I just saw you sitting with the Gamgees, Da and wanted to come say hello." Dom nodded to Gaffer Gamgee and his youngest son, Samwise. "Greetings, Master Gamgee, Sam." Dom bowed politely. "Thank you for coming to Hal's wedding."
Hamfast Gamgee took his clay pipe out of his mouth and cackled, "Couldn't go missin' the taming of one of the wildest bucks in the Shire, could we, Sam?"
Sam grinned at Dom and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively but refrained from further comment. Dom gave an inward sigh of relief. Sam knew some stories about the Stooptoe twins that Dom would rather not come to his father's ears.
Still chuckling at his own wit, Master Gamgee knocked the spent leaf out of the bowl of his pipe by tapping it against the tough sole of his foot. He poured some fragrant pipe-weed out of a well-used pouch and packed it loosely in to the small pipe. Ivo leaned over and offered a light from a candle flickering on the table. Hamfast drew on the pipe to get it smoldering and sighed contentedly.
He then lowered his voice and said, "Though, have to say, wouldn't have come all the way to this heathenish Tookland to see anyone get hitched, if'n it wasn't one of Ivo's lads."
Ivo smiled around his own pipe and said, "Tooks ain't so bad Hamfast, if you don't take 'em too seriously and don't lend your Took in-laws money." He gestured to where the bride and groom were talking to the Thain and the bride's parents. "But truth to tell, Hal is mighty taken with little Peri and she's a sweet lass, with some strength in her. She'll do." From Ivo there was no higher praise.
Hamfast grunted a grudging assent to Ivo's analysis of his in-laws and his son's new wife. "Aye, well. That's as may be. You know your own business best." Then, he gazed speculatively at the tables of food nearby. "But I see they're about to clear away that kidney pie before I've had my fill. Join me in rescuin' the remnants, Ivo?"
Ivo drained the rest of his tankard. "Don't mind if I do, Hamfast," he said, rising from the table. "I still need to fill up the corners a bit."
Dom and Sam watched with amused affection as their fathers left on their mission to save the kidney pie. The two older hobbits had been friends since long before their children were born, but the sons knew the story of the first meeting well.
*******
Hamfast Gamgee had been a young lad when he traveled from his home in Tighfield in the Westfarthing, to join his cousin Holman Greenhand as gardener at Bag End in Hobbiton. Hamfast had a rare talent with all things green and growing, everyone at home said so. But other than his mother's vegetable garden, there was no outlet in Tighfield for his talents. So off to his cousin Holman he would go.
On his way to Hobbiton, Hamfast stopped for the night at the Pipe and Horn, an inn near Michel Delving. He had stayed with relatives or camped on the road since he left home. This was the first time he had ever stayed at an inn.
The Pipe and Horn was a busy house, situated as it was at the road meeting. It was the year of the Free Fair, when the Mayor was elected and hobbits had descended on the area from all parts of the Shire. That night the Inn held more hobbits than Hamfast Gamgee had ever seen in one place. He felt very insignificant and unsure of himself, not at all his usual state of mind.
It was several minutes before he could even get the innkeeper's attention to arrange for a room. "We're full tonight," said Master Burbark, the landlord. "Ye'll have to double up in a room, but only with one other, unlike some. Have a seat down in the common room and I'll bring supper in directly. Then I'll show you up to your room." With that he bustled off to deliver the tankards he held aloft on a rough wooden tray.
Hamfast was left alone in the crowded public room. He peered around the dim space. Smoke coiled about the eaves of the low timbered ceiling from dozens of pipe-smoking inhabitants. In front of a merry fire, several hobbits were singing a loud song to the accompaniment of fiddle and drum. The tune was uncertain and the words seemed to consist largely of unintelligible verses with a shouted chorus of "Behind the Woodpile. Oi!"
There was a general din of laughter and shouted conversation. Hamfast could hardly hear himself think. He looked in vain for an empty seat. All the tables were filled to capacity.
He finally chose to squeeze in beside another hobbit with brownish-red hair that appeared close to his own age. The hobbit was a dour sort, merely grunting before scooting over, in response to Hamfast's shouted request.
Hamfast settled in to wait miserably for someone to remember to bring him supper and direct him to his longed-for bed. The delay seemed endless. His stomach rumbled loudly. He feared he would fall asleep where he sat, for he'd walked far that day, but he was too hungry. He winced in embarrassment as his stomach growled noisily once more.
Suddenly a trencher of savory smelling stew, with hot bread, and ale appeared in front of him. He looked up to thank the tardy landlord but found the dour young hobbit instead.
"Old Burbark looked to be forgettin' ya," Hamfast's benefactor said. "Couldn't drink my beer in peace with your belly howlin' the whole time." A grin belied this gruff response and brightened rough-hewn features with a homely kind of beauty.
The hobbit took his seat again by Hamfast. "Ivo Stooptoe, from down by Longbottom in the Southfarthing, at yer service."
Rather startled by this sudden loquaciousness, Hamfast blinked and then answered in proper fashion. "Hamfast Gamgee of Tighfield, at yers. Thankee fer yer kindness to a stranger."
"Not a stranger much longer," said Ivo. "Eat up and then we'll to bed." His startling grin flashed again. "Tis my room you're sharin' this night."
In conversation that night and over the next day while Ivo gave Hamfast a lift in his cart, the two discovered a mutual passion for all things that grew in the soil. From this first meeting a lifelong friendship formed between the two hobbit lads.
They promised to keep in touch when parting, disregarding the fact that at the time, neither knew how to read or write. But they were alike in one other respect. Their word, once given, was never to be broken and their loyalty to friends would never waver. This trait was passed on in full measure to their sons, as would one day become apparent to many, far beyond the Shire.
****
Dom waited for Ivo and Hamfast to move off, now deep in conversation regarding the relative merits of Old Toby versus Longbottom Leaf, the latter being the product of Ivo's fields.
Then Dom moved to sit directly across from Sam. He poured each of them a tankard of ale from a clay pitcher sitting on the table, sat back and sipped appreciatively. "The Took's alewife has a rare talent and no mistake." He drained the cup and set it down.
"Well, Sam, my lad", he said, lapsing into the more informal speech he used when not around his parents. "What news from down Hobbiton way? Is it true that your Mr. Frodo is removing over to Buckland and you are coming to do for him?"
Sam looked uncomfortable with the subject. "Aye, tis true. Mr. Frodo has bought himself a cottage called Crickhollow, beyond Brandy Hall." Sam buried his nose in his cup. "I'm to go with him come September."
"I know the place. A snug property, to be sure." Dom agreeably. "I'm sure he will find it suits him to be back where he grew up, though why anyone would give up Bag End, especially to those useless Sackville-Baggins cousins of his, I can't imagine." Dom waited but Sam did not volunteer to clarify his employer's motives.
Dom spotted the dignified, dark-haired hobbit smiling and drinking sedately with his rowdier Brandybuck cousins. To Dom, Frodo Baggins seemed strangely wistful, savoring each moment of this family gathering as if it would be his last for a long, long time. "I was grateful Mr. Frodo brought you and your dad with him to the wedding." Dom said. "I was going to come get you myself before I knew the Tooks included Frodo in their guest list."
Sam allowed himself a small smile. "Aye, well the Gaffer wasn't too sure it were proper for Gamgees and Bagginses to be coming to the same social gathering, but Mr. Frodo convinced him it was all right this one time." But then Sam lapsed into a studied silence once more.
A sigh escaped Dom. His friend was definitely troubled. He understood the feeling, being burdened with his own cares on what should be a joyous day. " It seems long since we took our ease at the Green Dragon and you stood Hal and I to a round or three."
Then Dom's brown eyes twinkled for the first time that day. "I seem to recall that Hal entertained the worthies of Bywater with a colorful ditty-- now how did it go?"
There once was a Hobbit named Bass, In love with a beautiful lass. They met one day in the usual way, But he was drunk and fell off his--ass.
Sam clapped his hand across Dom's mouth before he could complete the last line. "Be quiet! Ye can't be sayin' such things in the Thane's garden, nor at Hal's own wedding, neither." But Sam was laughing and Dom was glad to see his friend's face lightened from its cares for a time.
Perhaps Sam was afraid he would be lonely in the new place, Dom thought. "Once you get Mr. Frodo settled in, I'll come up and show you the best tavern in Buckland, the Crown and Duck." Dom offered. "It might not be the Green Dragon, but the beer is good and the mushroom soup is second to none."
Surprisingly, this brought the cloud back to Sam's expression. "It will take some time to get things ready for Mr. Frodo, and afterwards, things will likely be busy for a good while." He said discouragingly.
Dom found nothing to say to that. Each drinker again seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts while steadily emptying his cup. Sam noticed Dom refilled his twice more in the silence. Sam remembered how subdued Dom had been since the ceremony that morning. More somber than would be called for by the importance of the occasion, he realized now.
"Yer a bit a down at the mouth for being at Hal's wedding, Dom." Sam said quietly. "What's bothering you?"
Dom shook his head in denial of the charge, but his eyes strayed to the new bride as her clear laughter rang out across the fragrant gardens. Sam acknowledged the pretty new wife but was startled at the warm emotion he saw in Dom's brown eyes. "Oho, so that's how the ground lies, is it?" Sam thought.
Aloud, Sam said, "Dom, I've known you and Hal since we were lads. Every summer, old Ivo would bring you two to stay with us while he made the rounds of the East and North Farthings getting orders for his pipe weed."
"We boys ranged over every dell, field and wood between Hobbiton and Bywater, like it was our own personal property. There was no adventure we didn't share," Sam insisted. "Don't you think I can tell if you are troubled?"
Frustrated at Sam's prying when he had been less than forthcoming about his own problems, Dom lashed out. "Well, if by troubles, you mean that strangers are straying across the Bounds of the Southfarthing setting fire to crops and stealing stock."
"Or that the Sackville-Bagginses are buying up all the leaf plantations they can get their hands on and cutting the rest of the farmers out of a profitable business," Dom snarled. "Why, then I suppose I am troubled, Sam!"
Sam jerked back as if struck. Dom shook his head wearily. "Sorry, Sam. I find I'm not fit company even for myself. But, as everyone keeps telling me, it is Hal's wedding day." He scraped back his chair from the table. "Come along, then, if you can still stand me. Let's go wish the couple joy in their new life."
Without looking to see if his friend was coming, Dom walked with careful dignity toward Hal and his bride.
Afterwards, everyone said Periwinkle Took was the prettiest, most charming bride of her generation. There was no doubt that Periwinkle's dark curls, creamy skin and shining gray eyes made an enchanting picture as she stood under the bridal arch in the garden of Great Smials with her groom, Halmeth Stooptoe. The weather was hot by mid-morning but the sky was blue and cloudless. A wonderful day for a Shire wedding.
Envious hobbit maids noted every detail of the wedding dress made of materials imported all the way from mysterious lands beyond Bree. The gown was a pale blue satin with silver lace at the bodice and along the flounced hem. The stiffened underskirt was of white satin embroidered with silver thread. The broad-shouldered groom cut a fine figure in a dark blue velvet coat and knee breeches with a silver waistcoat. His twin brother, Domfast, stood up with him during the ceremony and the unmarried lasses unanimously agreed he looked just as handsome as the groom did.
Of course, the bountiful table set for the wedding breakfast and the free- flowing ale, beer and rare wines tended to give a nice mellow glow to memories of the whole affair.
The bride's family in the Shire traditionally provided the wedding meal after the ceremony. In recent years, a wedding breakfast had become fashionable. The term "breakfast" was quite flexible, however, and could last well into the afternoon by the time the festivities commenced. Indeed, at events the size of this Took wedding, the meal was essentially an unending feast, continually replenished from the well-stocked larders of Great Smials.
Wedding guests partook of pigeon-pie, ham, and goose; a round of cold boiled beef cut from a small cow, driven over from Bree especial for the occasion the week before; and endless loaves of soft white bread served on wooden trenchers with drippings of honey and sweet butter. Stout servers puffed up from the kitchens with large platters of hot food; kidneys, steaks with succulent broiled mushrooms, poached eggs, rashers of bacon, sausages, boiled potatoes with onions, buttered toast and muffins, and tea. Although officially a breakfast, there was also a wide selection of sweets, pies and tarts.
Hobbit matrons in attendance agreed the gardens were especially lovely for the occasion. The Took gardeners had spent the past days feverishly devising a wedding garden and bridal arch for the new couple, composed of the plants and flowers hobbits associated with good fortune. The bridal arch, covered in ivy to represent fidelity, was studded with forget-me-nots and Queen's Lace, then entwined with golden fairy lanterns. There were carefully designed beds of white trillium, for purity; pansies, for merriment; honeysuckle, for honesty; hyacinths, for constancy; and buttercups for prosperity. The bride carried azaleas to evoke passion. The guests were provided with grains of barley to toss at the couple and ensure numerous, healthy progeny.
Yes, thought Petronilla Took to herself as she strolled regally through the gardens, she had given her only child and daughter a proper send-off. She stopped occasionally to graciously accept the congratulations and good wishes of friends and family.
Raucous laughter echoed across the garden. She knew that sound. She turned to see her husband Berengar slap the back of a friend companionably. Berengar laughed uproariously when the hapless friend choked and spewed his cider all over the other drinkers. Petronilla shook her head with affectionate exasperation. As usual, Berengar was having a marvelous time with his friends and cousins, helped along by the ale they quaffed down with merry abandon.
To look at him, you would think this wedding had been paid for with Berengar's own funds and taken place in his own spacious gardens rather than those of his cousin Paladin Took, the current Thane. The genteelly decaying cottage of Berengar and Petronilla, a mile from Tuckburrow, could never have accommodated this grand a gathering, nor their purse its cost.
"Thank goodness for Took family loyalty and generosity," Petronilla thought, "for Berengar has the name but has never possessed the Took ability to put two silver pennies together and get eight!"
But Petronilla depended on this wedding to change all that. Their dear Periwinkle had the good fortune to catch the eye of the son of one of the most prosperous farmers in the Shire. Petronilla Took noticed the attraction early on and had done her research discreetly and well.
Ivo Stooptoe had taken the knowledge gained in his youth tending the fields of the Hornblower clan and started growing pipe weed on his own farm that was set fair to rival the most famous Shire leaf. Although well into his middle years, he had managed to marry Dionesia Hornblower, only child and heir to that noble pipe weed fortune. This simply increased Ivo's reputation for cleverness.
Ivo and Dionesia proceeded to surprise and delight the Southfarthing when they promptly produced twin boys, Domfast and Halmeth, or Dom and Hal, as they were universally known. Although large families were not unusual among hobbits, twins were rare and considered good fortune for the lucky parents.
The Stooptoe household was known as a happy one, even though no further children graced it. Dionesia ran a well-ordered, comfortable house but it was not at all grand like Great Smials or Brandy Hall. Stooptoe Hollow was located some three miles south of the town of Longbottom. It was a large rambling structure, with the oldest parts carved well back into one of the rolling hills of the Southfarthing, and newer additions built outside the hill, after the manner of the houses of the Big People.
Petronilla had not bothered to look much further than the well-known prosperity and ambition of the Stooptoe family. If she had, she might have been surprised. All the local families knew that to ring the front door bell of Stooptoe Hollow would result in quite a long wait for a response. Friends were expected to come round to the kitchen door where Dionesia was almost always to be found cooking or working in her nearby still room.
Dionesia had only one maid-of-all-work to help her, Goldcorn Puddlefoot. Between them the women did all the cooking for the farm laborers, although an extra maid might be hired to help during the harvest when the number of workers could double. Despite her well-to-do background, Dionesia never put on any airs. She was frugal with a penny but generous at table, one of the many reasons Ivo keenly appreciated her.
The new bride would find her good-mother kind, supportive and loving. But the new Took in-laws were not going to find Dionesia Stooptoe an easy touch.
Comfortably unaware of the mettle of her new relative, Petronilla waved at Dionesia and moved gracefully through the throng of well wishers to where the mother of the groom stood with her other son, Domfast. Musicians played a popular tune and hobbits of all ages whirled merrily around a cleared space under some trees. Petronilla proudly noted her daughter and son-in-law danced with outstanding grace and energy. She saw Domfast watching the happy couple and thought he looked rather somber considering this was his brother's wedding.
"Now, Dom," she said tapping his arm playfully when she arrived to stand next to him and his mother. "You need to get right out there with the other young people and dance. I am sure there is another hobbit maid somewhere here just waiting for you to sweep her off her feet."
Dionesia smiled and said wryly, "Yes, I believe that is Amaryllis Bogbean over there trying to catch your eye. I think she would like to dance. Either that, or she is suffering from an unfortunate twitch." Dom rolled his own eyes at his mother for the girl loved nothing more than the sound of her own voice. But Stooptoes never shirked their duty.
Dionesia's eyes twinkled as she gave him a small push in the direction of Mistress Bogbean. "At least Amaryllis can dance. Betony Broadleaf is on her way over and that girl has been responsible for more sore feet on the dance floor than I can remember. So be off with you, there's a good lad."
Wisely picking the lesser of two evils, Dom led Amaryllis out for an energetic reel that left the dancers little time or breath for talking. She was a good dancer and did not have the opportunity to chatter. So Dom was able to say with complete honesty that he had a fine time by the end of two sets when he delivered Amaryllis back to her family. Because she could properly expect him to offer to get her some punch and spend time in conversation with her afterward, Dom cast about for a plausible excuse to make his escape.
His attention was caught and held by figures near the laden tables. He had his alibi. "Pardon me, Amaryllis, but I see my father with some family friends and he is signaling for me to come over." Moving adroitly as hobbits can, Dom eluded Amaryllis' grasp and quickly maneuvered around the dancers and over to the diners.
He really had seen his father sitting at a table with some other guests, but Ivo by no means required his son's presence and was surprised when Dom popped up at his side, slightly out of breath.
"Where did you rabbit over from, boy?" said his father in his rough country accent. Marrying Dionesia Hornblower had been a sizable step up the social ladder for Ivo Stooptoe, but it never changed him from the Southfarthing farm lad he had once been.
"I just saw you sitting with the Gamgees, Da and wanted to come say hello." Dom nodded to Gaffer Gamgee and his youngest son, Samwise. "Greetings, Master Gamgee, Sam." Dom bowed politely. "Thank you for coming to Hal's wedding."
Hamfast Gamgee took his clay pipe out of his mouth and cackled, "Couldn't go missin' the taming of one of the wildest bucks in the Shire, could we, Sam?"
Sam grinned at Dom and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively but refrained from further comment. Dom gave an inward sigh of relief. Sam knew some stories about the Stooptoe twins that Dom would rather not come to his father's ears.
Still chuckling at his own wit, Master Gamgee knocked the spent leaf out of the bowl of his pipe by tapping it against the tough sole of his foot. He poured some fragrant pipe-weed out of a well-used pouch and packed it loosely in to the small pipe. Ivo leaned over and offered a light from a candle flickering on the table. Hamfast drew on the pipe to get it smoldering and sighed contentedly.
He then lowered his voice and said, "Though, have to say, wouldn't have come all the way to this heathenish Tookland to see anyone get hitched, if'n it wasn't one of Ivo's lads."
Ivo smiled around his own pipe and said, "Tooks ain't so bad Hamfast, if you don't take 'em too seriously and don't lend your Took in-laws money." He gestured to where the bride and groom were talking to the Thain and the bride's parents. "But truth to tell, Hal is mighty taken with little Peri and she's a sweet lass, with some strength in her. She'll do." From Ivo there was no higher praise.
Hamfast grunted a grudging assent to Ivo's analysis of his in-laws and his son's new wife. "Aye, well. That's as may be. You know your own business best." Then, he gazed speculatively at the tables of food nearby. "But I see they're about to clear away that kidney pie before I've had my fill. Join me in rescuin' the remnants, Ivo?"
Ivo drained the rest of his tankard. "Don't mind if I do, Hamfast," he said, rising from the table. "I still need to fill up the corners a bit."
Dom and Sam watched with amused affection as their fathers left on their mission to save the kidney pie. The two older hobbits had been friends since long before their children were born, but the sons knew the story of the first meeting well.
*******
Hamfast Gamgee had been a young lad when he traveled from his home in Tighfield in the Westfarthing, to join his cousin Holman Greenhand as gardener at Bag End in Hobbiton. Hamfast had a rare talent with all things green and growing, everyone at home said so. But other than his mother's vegetable garden, there was no outlet in Tighfield for his talents. So off to his cousin Holman he would go.
On his way to Hobbiton, Hamfast stopped for the night at the Pipe and Horn, an inn near Michel Delving. He had stayed with relatives or camped on the road since he left home. This was the first time he had ever stayed at an inn.
The Pipe and Horn was a busy house, situated as it was at the road meeting. It was the year of the Free Fair, when the Mayor was elected and hobbits had descended on the area from all parts of the Shire. That night the Inn held more hobbits than Hamfast Gamgee had ever seen in one place. He felt very insignificant and unsure of himself, not at all his usual state of mind.
It was several minutes before he could even get the innkeeper's attention to arrange for a room. "We're full tonight," said Master Burbark, the landlord. "Ye'll have to double up in a room, but only with one other, unlike some. Have a seat down in the common room and I'll bring supper in directly. Then I'll show you up to your room." With that he bustled off to deliver the tankards he held aloft on a rough wooden tray.
Hamfast was left alone in the crowded public room. He peered around the dim space. Smoke coiled about the eaves of the low timbered ceiling from dozens of pipe-smoking inhabitants. In front of a merry fire, several hobbits were singing a loud song to the accompaniment of fiddle and drum. The tune was uncertain and the words seemed to consist largely of unintelligible verses with a shouted chorus of "Behind the Woodpile. Oi!"
There was a general din of laughter and shouted conversation. Hamfast could hardly hear himself think. He looked in vain for an empty seat. All the tables were filled to capacity.
He finally chose to squeeze in beside another hobbit with brownish-red hair that appeared close to his own age. The hobbit was a dour sort, merely grunting before scooting over, in response to Hamfast's shouted request.
Hamfast settled in to wait miserably for someone to remember to bring him supper and direct him to his longed-for bed. The delay seemed endless. His stomach rumbled loudly. He feared he would fall asleep where he sat, for he'd walked far that day, but he was too hungry. He winced in embarrassment as his stomach growled noisily once more.
Suddenly a trencher of savory smelling stew, with hot bread, and ale appeared in front of him. He looked up to thank the tardy landlord but found the dour young hobbit instead.
"Old Burbark looked to be forgettin' ya," Hamfast's benefactor said. "Couldn't drink my beer in peace with your belly howlin' the whole time." A grin belied this gruff response and brightened rough-hewn features with a homely kind of beauty.
The hobbit took his seat again by Hamfast. "Ivo Stooptoe, from down by Longbottom in the Southfarthing, at yer service."
Rather startled by this sudden loquaciousness, Hamfast blinked and then answered in proper fashion. "Hamfast Gamgee of Tighfield, at yers. Thankee fer yer kindness to a stranger."
"Not a stranger much longer," said Ivo. "Eat up and then we'll to bed." His startling grin flashed again. "Tis my room you're sharin' this night."
In conversation that night and over the next day while Ivo gave Hamfast a lift in his cart, the two discovered a mutual passion for all things that grew in the soil. From this first meeting a lifelong friendship formed between the two hobbit lads.
They promised to keep in touch when parting, disregarding the fact that at the time, neither knew how to read or write. But they were alike in one other respect. Their word, once given, was never to be broken and their loyalty to friends would never waver. This trait was passed on in full measure to their sons, as would one day become apparent to many, far beyond the Shire.
****
Dom waited for Ivo and Hamfast to move off, now deep in conversation regarding the relative merits of Old Toby versus Longbottom Leaf, the latter being the product of Ivo's fields.
Then Dom moved to sit directly across from Sam. He poured each of them a tankard of ale from a clay pitcher sitting on the table, sat back and sipped appreciatively. "The Took's alewife has a rare talent and no mistake." He drained the cup and set it down.
"Well, Sam, my lad", he said, lapsing into the more informal speech he used when not around his parents. "What news from down Hobbiton way? Is it true that your Mr. Frodo is removing over to Buckland and you are coming to do for him?"
Sam looked uncomfortable with the subject. "Aye, tis true. Mr. Frodo has bought himself a cottage called Crickhollow, beyond Brandy Hall." Sam buried his nose in his cup. "I'm to go with him come September."
"I know the place. A snug property, to be sure." Dom agreeably. "I'm sure he will find it suits him to be back where he grew up, though why anyone would give up Bag End, especially to those useless Sackville-Baggins cousins of his, I can't imagine." Dom waited but Sam did not volunteer to clarify his employer's motives.
Dom spotted the dignified, dark-haired hobbit smiling and drinking sedately with his rowdier Brandybuck cousins. To Dom, Frodo Baggins seemed strangely wistful, savoring each moment of this family gathering as if it would be his last for a long, long time. "I was grateful Mr. Frodo brought you and your dad with him to the wedding." Dom said. "I was going to come get you myself before I knew the Tooks included Frodo in their guest list."
Sam allowed himself a small smile. "Aye, well the Gaffer wasn't too sure it were proper for Gamgees and Bagginses to be coming to the same social gathering, but Mr. Frodo convinced him it was all right this one time." But then Sam lapsed into a studied silence once more.
A sigh escaped Dom. His friend was definitely troubled. He understood the feeling, being burdened with his own cares on what should be a joyous day. " It seems long since we took our ease at the Green Dragon and you stood Hal and I to a round or three."
Then Dom's brown eyes twinkled for the first time that day. "I seem to recall that Hal entertained the worthies of Bywater with a colorful ditty-- now how did it go?"
There once was a Hobbit named Bass, In love with a beautiful lass. They met one day in the usual way, But he was drunk and fell off his--ass.
Sam clapped his hand across Dom's mouth before he could complete the last line. "Be quiet! Ye can't be sayin' such things in the Thane's garden, nor at Hal's own wedding, neither." But Sam was laughing and Dom was glad to see his friend's face lightened from its cares for a time.
Perhaps Sam was afraid he would be lonely in the new place, Dom thought. "Once you get Mr. Frodo settled in, I'll come up and show you the best tavern in Buckland, the Crown and Duck." Dom offered. "It might not be the Green Dragon, but the beer is good and the mushroom soup is second to none."
Surprisingly, this brought the cloud back to Sam's expression. "It will take some time to get things ready for Mr. Frodo, and afterwards, things will likely be busy for a good while." He said discouragingly.
Dom found nothing to say to that. Each drinker again seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts while steadily emptying his cup. Sam noticed Dom refilled his twice more in the silence. Sam remembered how subdued Dom had been since the ceremony that morning. More somber than would be called for by the importance of the occasion, he realized now.
"Yer a bit a down at the mouth for being at Hal's wedding, Dom." Sam said quietly. "What's bothering you?"
Dom shook his head in denial of the charge, but his eyes strayed to the new bride as her clear laughter rang out across the fragrant gardens. Sam acknowledged the pretty new wife but was startled at the warm emotion he saw in Dom's brown eyes. "Oho, so that's how the ground lies, is it?" Sam thought.
Aloud, Sam said, "Dom, I've known you and Hal since we were lads. Every summer, old Ivo would bring you two to stay with us while he made the rounds of the East and North Farthings getting orders for his pipe weed."
"We boys ranged over every dell, field and wood between Hobbiton and Bywater, like it was our own personal property. There was no adventure we didn't share," Sam insisted. "Don't you think I can tell if you are troubled?"
Frustrated at Sam's prying when he had been less than forthcoming about his own problems, Dom lashed out. "Well, if by troubles, you mean that strangers are straying across the Bounds of the Southfarthing setting fire to crops and stealing stock."
"Or that the Sackville-Bagginses are buying up all the leaf plantations they can get their hands on and cutting the rest of the farmers out of a profitable business," Dom snarled. "Why, then I suppose I am troubled, Sam!"
Sam jerked back as if struck. Dom shook his head wearily. "Sorry, Sam. I find I'm not fit company even for myself. But, as everyone keeps telling me, it is Hal's wedding day." He scraped back his chair from the table. "Come along, then, if you can still stand me. Let's go wish the couple joy in their new life."
Without looking to see if his friend was coming, Dom walked with careful dignity toward Hal and his bride.