A/N: I originally wrote this short story for my English class after being assigned to write a mystery. I shall break it into two short chapters, because I'm picky like that. :-P Anyway, here follows the disclaimer: I do not lay claim to Hobbits, the Shire, or anything else that master J.R.R. Tolkien created. However, the characters in this story are mine. Enjoy, and please review!

~*~*~ Chapter One- The Mos' Lovely Raspberry an' Strawberry Torte! ~*~*~

As everyone with even the smallest inkling of knowledge regarding the lives and habits of the Hobbits knows, this race may be diminutive in size, but what they lack in stature, they make up for in appetite. Hobbits enjoy eating many meals a day, including first breakfast, second breakfast, elevensies, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner, and supper. The Hobbits need this sort of a structured routine to their meals so that they will always remain well-fed and full, because a well-fed, full Hobbit is a happy Hobbit!
The Bracegirdle family of Hardbottle, a small section of the Shire, was perhaps the perfect example of a normal, jolly Hobbit family. The patriarch of this family was Mr. Hallofast Bracegirdle, and he had a lovely wife by the name of Mirabella Proudfoot-Bracegirdle. Their family also consisted of a number of round, curly-haired Hobbit children, called Peony, Hamwell, Marigold, Rori, Melilot, and little Tom, respectively. The family may have had their quirks, but they were altogether as jovial a family as ever lived in the Shire.
One fine morning in the month of May, or Thrimidge as the month was called in the tongue of the Hobbits, Mrs. Mirabella Proudfoot-Bracegirdle announced to her family over their first breakfast that they would be having visitors for elevensies that very day. This produced a collective groan from the children, for, while Hobbits are not of a selfish nature, they do love their food and are often loth to share it with visitors.
"But, Mum," cried little Melilot, her mouth spilling crumbs of honey cake as she spoke, "You baked the mos' lovely raspberry an' strawberry torte! I dun' want to share!" She whined, finishing up her cup of tea as she made this statement. Her mother glared at her in exasperation in the way that only a true Hobbit mother can do. "Melilot Bracegirdle, what kin' of manners are those?" She asked, roughly wiping her daughter's mouth with a handkerchief. "If I hear anything like that ou' of your mouth again, little lady, it'll be a week without second breakfast for you!" her father said sternly. Melilot pouted and sulked, but it was to no avail. The beautiful raspberry-strawberry torte was to be shared with the Grubb family that very morning.
As the hour until elevensies slowly dwindled away, the Bracegirdle family was on edge. Every time one of the children would scamper through the kitchen on his or her way outside, the child would involuntarily slow down to admire the mouthwatering torte. It had three layers of a wonderful golden-yellow cake, and in between each layer was cream packed an inch thick and dotted with pieces of strawberries and raspberries. The top had a three-inch high layer of cream, which Mirabella had painstakingly decorated with berries into an intricate swirled and colorful pattern. Each child would lovingly stare at the torte, admiring its extraordinary height and its wonderful, sweet scent. But Mirabella was ever lurking, giving her children and any friends they might bring in a watchful glance to make sure they did not lay even a finger on the masterpiece. Mirabella Proudfoot-Bracegirdle was perhaps a bit vain, but not in the way of looks. No, it was her cooking that she was proud of. Mirabella's dishes had won quite a few awards at the Shire's annual County Fair, but she always had to share the glory with Mrs. Adeline Grubb. Adeline was Mirabella's cooking nemesis. Outside of the kitchen, they were friendly, but inside- Eru save anybody who got in their way! Both had a healthy degree of the competitive spirit and were constantly trying to outdo one another at the County Fair. Mirabella was still smarting over the last Fair's upset. She had made 24 jars of Peach-apple Preserves, uncommonly well spiced and with an absolutely perfect consistency. She was a shoe-in for the blue ribbon... until Mrs. Adeline Grubb brought out 36 jars of Peach-apple-apricot Preserves, all tied with a little red ribbon 'round the top. Mirabella had steamed for days after getting second place, but now she took grim satisfaction in knowing that Adeline's Peach-apple-apricot Preserves didn't hold a candle to her torte. This torte was unlike anything she had ever made before, and if it didn't shake Adeline up a little bit and maybe scare her into thinking she might lose her title as reigning queen in the baking division of the County Fair (a division Mirabella had never won in), she didn't know what would.
Unfortunately, Hamwell, the second to youngest child (followed only by little Tom), decided to get himself into trouble by falling into a puddle of mud and soiling his clothes that day. Mirabella, anxious to make a good impression on the visiting (and rather affluent) Grubb family, immediately hauled Ham into a tub filled with hastily, half-heated water to scrub him down. Half of Hardbottle could hear her yells that morning as she admonished her son for behaving so immaturely.
"HAMWELL BRACEGIRDLE!" her shrill voice cried, accompanied by various shrieks of pain as she scrubbed her son a bit too hard. "I canna' believe you would do this! What with the Great Elevensies comin' up I'da though you would-a wanted to look presentable! Don't you wan' your mother to be able to show Adeline Grubb what an excellent family she has?! Don't you wan' her to WIN at the County FAIR?!" And that was how it continued for fifteen minutes, until Hamwell came out scrubbed pink as a newborn piglet and smelling of lavender soap.