Chapter 11
(11/14)
***
When Frodo and Sam reached the door, Merry and Pippin already stood on the welcoming doormat. Merry was trying in vain to bring some order into his younger cousin's clothing when the door opened before them.
"I'm surprised to see you on time, dear cousins," Frodo greeted them.
"Oh, we always are," Merry said, performing an elegant little bow.
"If our date is with food, that is," Pippin added merrily and seconded Merry's bow, though he couldn't carry it out quite as gracefully.
"I thought as much." Frodo grinned. "And I dare say you won't regret coming here. There are some tasty delicacies waiting for you."
"Like salty soup and burned bird, if it had been up to him," Pippin whispered as Frodo turned to go on inside. For this, the young Took was promptly rewarded with a hard nudge of Merry's pointed elbow.
"Take care of your mouth, Pippin Took," Merry warned him in a low voice.
"Feed me and make my mouth busy with chewing and that won't be any trouble at all," Pippin advised him with a broad smile. They went inside and hung their jackets on the hallstand. Then, before they entered the dining room, they stopped momentarily beside Sam. Pippin gave the gardener a cheerful glance and the brightest smile he had in his repertoire.
"Sam," Pippin asked innocently, "is everything all right with you?"
"Yes," Merry added with interest, "you look kind of flushed, don't you think, Pip?"
"Aye, quite so." Pippin grinned.
Sam quickly lowered his eyes, staring intently at his toes. Frodo, however, seemed to be oblivious to what was going on.
"Come on, you three," he called from the passageway, "it's been a long day and I think I don't think I've never been this hungry before."
Since they all agreed with this, no more precious time was wasted and finally the birthday feast at Bag End began.
***
Hobbits liked food. It was a statement as true and unwavering as 'the sun rises in the east.' But what was even more welcome to their souls was good food, and on this evening there was plenty of it. This special birthday was going to be branded in their minds for many reasons, but the one memory standing out would be that of the fabulous dishes they had been served that night.
"Oh my . . ." Pippin leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, "that was the best feast ever." Leisurely, he licked the gravy from his fingers, savoring every droplet.
"Aye . . ." Merry agreed from his seat. For once in his lifetime he was too full and lazy to be any more eloquent.
"Those mushroom were sheer poetry." Pippin sighed. 'Mentioning it,' he thought and opened his eyes to look if any goose bits or delicious filling were left.
"Well, well." Frodo nodded and patted his belly. After the first plate of goose and taters he had unbuttoned his weskit for reasons of comfort. "I must say that I surprised myself. Honestly, I didn't think it would work so well."
Silence was his only answer, but Frodo was too content to notice anything queer.
"After all the chaos today, I doubted we would ever come to sit here," he went on, dreamily. "Really, at times I considered locking myself up in the bedroom until next spring. And the frog was not even the oddest thing about it all." During the course he had given his guests full account of his flower trade, which had made the trio laugh even harder than Frodo had expected. There still would be a little grin tugging at the corners of Pippin's mouth whenever the word 'frog' was mentioned.
"That S.B. incident," said Frodo and shook his head, "that was most queer."
Merry warily opened his eyes and looked over at his cousin. Sam began to smooth the tablecloth in front of him. Only Pippin seemed unaware of the danger.
"Queer to what extent, cousin?" he asked.
"Well, I can't rightly say," Frodo admitted. "There was something about the way she moved. Something . . . unwomanly, I'd say."
Next to Pippin, Merry closed his hand around his mug of ale. His knuckles turned strangely white.
"But that shouldn't be a surprise, should it?" Frodo said eventually, and a smile sneaked upon his features. "Lobelia never was the most graceful among all the hobbit maidens." An amused chuckle escaped his lips as he reached out for his mug. "You should have seen her! Stomping like some kind of troll and chirping like a hoarse bird. What a sight. Oh, you really should have seen her." Recalling the pictures, Frodo laughed into his beer, while Sam had turned aside to hide his expression from the company. Merry, who sat opposite to Frodo, had gone white in the face as well.
"You know, Frodo," Pippin said, struggling to keep his face straight and voice steady, "some folks just don't have a lot of grace in them."
The next moment a muffled thud could be heard from beneath the table top. Pippin twitched on his chair and for no visible reasons screwed up his face in pain.
"But Lobelia or no Lobelia, at least we have a happy end," stated Frodo, who by now had downed his ale. "And now I think it is time for the presents." He nodded to himself, neither noticing the reproachful look Pippin gave Merry nor the sinister black look Merry returned. Instead Frodo went over to the mantelpiece and picked up three presents, nicely wrapped in gold-brown paper. The first one was meant for Sam, who almost dropped it in surprise. As he took away the paper, Sam held in his hands a neat little bag filled with seeds.
"Gandalf brought them on his visit this summer," Frodo explained. "I don't know what the flowers will look like, but he told me they're really beautiful. If they are tended carefully."
"Oh, they will be, Mr. Frodo," Sam said with bright, shining eyes. "Surely, they will. Thank you sir!"
"And these are for Merry and Pippin," Frodo said, handing them the remaining two bundles. "I hope you don't mind that you both get the same. But it seemed to me both of you might like it."
Curiously, Merry unwrapped his present. But as the content was revealed to him, he thought his heart skipped a beat. The bundle slid out of his hands and dropped into his lap. In the midst of the paper lay something shining white and fluffy resembling very much a certain piece of clothing. Womanly clothing.
'No, that can't be . . .' Merry winced. Ever so slowly, he reached out his hand and lifted the white piece of cloth out of its wrapping. Then, as he held it in midair, he saw what it really was. Frodo had given him a white handkerchief with the initials M.B. stitched in one corner. And, furthermore, there was, as Merry now was able to see, a filled bag of Pipeweed what looked to be the finest blend of Longbottom leaf. But although the true nature of the present was revealed, Merry's heart still thrummed fast against his chest and his hand shook a little. That was the moment his friends noticed his dismayed state.
"Merry? Is something wrong?" Frodo asked and concern showed on his face. "Don't you like your present?"
"I think he has mistaken it for something else," Pippin said with a grin.
"Mistaken?" Frodo echoed and looked questioningly at his Brandybuck cousin. Merry, in the meantime, had enfolded the handkerchief in his hand and stared at it, still upset.
"I . . . I thought it was . . ." he mumbled, then remembered himself and returned Frodo's gaze as steady as he could. "Oh, never mind. Thank you, cousin." He actually managed a weak smile.
"Yes, thank you, Frodo," Pippin joined, then he turned towards Merry and waved his own present in front of his cousin's nose. "Look, mine's blue. A real good choice our cousin Frodo made. And thank goodness it doesn't have frills, eh, Merry?"
Merry's head snapped up and the glare of his bright blue eyes bore directly into Pippin. A glare meant to strike the impetuous Took down with thundering force, actually. Needless to say it was completely ineffectual.
"Why should I give you something with frills?" Frodo questioned, astounded.
"Never mind," Merry fairly growled, while still scowling at his younger cousin, who obviously was having a great time.
"Shouldn't we go on to the dessert?" Sam threw in hurriedly, eager to prevent the upcoming catastrophe. He succeeded.
"Dessert!" Pippin yelped with delight and clapped his hands.
"All right," Frodo laughed, the matter of frills fortunately forgotten, "we better serve the sweets before our Master Pippin will starts dancing upon the table." The master of Bag End shoved his chair back and stood up.
"Sam, would you please be so kind as to cut the pastry? I'll go and get the dessert plates." With that he turned and walked over to the cupboard.
At that point, many things happened at the same time. Frodo approached the cupboard, while Sam paled and gripped the table with terror in his eyes. Merry jumped up as he saw the gardener's reaction and whirled around towards Pippin, who stared at him with large eyes. Intuitively understanding Sam's dilemma, the young Brandybuck soundlessly formed the word 'pots' with his lips and Pippin, who sat closer to the cupboard, bolted out of his seat. Frodo's hand already lay on the cupboard's knob, when his cousin got into his way and pressed his back defensively against the shelf.
"Frodo," Pippin panted, trying to smile at the thoroughly surprised hobbit in front of him. "Uhm . . . let me do this, aye? It's your birthday, you know, a-and you have already done so much for us."
"Right then," Frodo said slowly after he had eyed his younger cousin, rather puzzled. "Thank you."
Over Frodo's shoulder, Pippin saw the remaining two hobbits relax. Merry fell back in his chair and Sam exhaled a deep, deep breath. Then the gardener reached for a knife and began to cut the pastry into fine slices.
After rummaging the cupboard for a short while, Pippin came back with a pile of plates and distributed them to the four seats at the table. With his task fulfilled, the young Took quickly sat down and held his plate out for his portion. Sam mercifully gave the lad the first slice and soon everyone had a nice piece of pastry on his plate. That is, all but Frodo. He decided to have a bit of the strawberry pudding instead. Looking forward to the first, sweet bite, they all pushed their spoons (or forks) into the dessert before them. Quickly did the first taste of pastry and pudding disappear into the hobbits' mouths. What followed was silence. Then Sam swallowed hard and Merry and Pippin simultaneously reached for their napkins.
Frodo already finished his third spoonful of pudding before he looked contentedly at his guests.
"How do you like the pastry?" he asked. "I improved it with some more sugar just before you arrived."
Merry suspiciously cast a sideways glance at Sam, who sadly pointed at the salt cellar that stood on the table. Merry pressed his lips together and tried to look not too sorry. He knew that Frodo 'had not quite a gift for cooking.' But that his cousin even mixed up salt and sugar . . .
'Well,' Merry thought, 'they're both white, so . . .' But he was really sorry for the good pastry.
"You wouldn't believe how glad I am that everything worked out so fine," Frodo said, spooning up his pudding. "But it seems like I'm not so bad a cook after all. Indeed, I'm beginning to think that I should like to cook for you more often."
And while Frodo again concentrated fully on his wonderful strawberry pudding, three pairs of unbelieving eyes stared at each other in terrified shock.
***
TBC