October 14, 1422
Chapter 10
"We have gathered ere the Pay Up Date so that a conclusion can be reached." Tom Cotton cleared his throat
"Pay up date?"
"Really?"
"Yes."
"So that's where all our food went."
"Huh, I was wondering too."
"Mommy, what's a pay up date?"
"Hush, Esmeralda, it's nothing." there was a general mutter of confusion until Galadriel cleared her throat.
"AHEM. Hence the name, 'pay up date' Morgoth has started collecting fees for 'fair distribution' which means 'turn in everything you got'."
"Ohhhhhhh," some of the older gaffers and gammers nodded knowingly.
"Well I'll be," Jolly and Nick exclaimed.
( Look up the Gamgee family tree in Appendix C in The Return of the King. You will find Jolly & Nick with Tom, Nibs, and Rosie.)
"I thought our harvest was just plain bad."
"It was, but them evil people collected it anyhow," an old gaffer yelled from the back.
"Alas, I am afeared that we have arrived too late," Aragorn sighed. "Though it seems that I should have figured that. Bree's ale was not up to standards."
"WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF A CRISIS AND ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS ALE????????" the gaffer hollered on the top of his lungs. "BY THE WAY, GOOD PIPPIN PLEASE PASS ME THE BEER ON THE COUNTER."
Every one snorted, Aragorn included.
That seemed more gafferish, or so I should think, but to deem a conclusion too early wouldn't pay.
"Well, I wouldn't mind some ale myself." Pippin spoke earnestly.
"Oh, dash it all. Hang the ale," Arwen waved an imperial hand. "Our number one priority is to find out where Morgoth's stronghold is."
"I thought he resided in Mordor on the edge of Lorien," Gimli spoke gruffly.
"That nasty dirty rotten thing in-in- MY forest?" Celeborn was aghast.
"Celeborn, you do remember that we overthrew the creatures there," Galadriel noted with amusement.
"Even so, you are always welcome at Mirkwood," Legolas bowed.
"By the way, Legolas. How is Thranduil?" Gandalf asked. "The old chap should depart here soon."
"Well, I think that he might be departing soon enough. These are dark days, yea they are," Legolas grew silent and started brooding.
"Good, good." Cirdan clapped his hands. "Let us wrap it up, shall we, Gandalf?"
"With pleasure."
"Excuse me, my good Gandalf, but the sun is setting, and not for naught is it unwise to travel after sundown."
"Ahh, Frodo. Never misses a beat, that one," Gandalf looked at me fondly.
"Before we is all going on about journey, I think it's high past suppertime."
"Quite right," Pippin nodded approvingly at Sam. "After all, I missed my elevensies."
"You did no such thing. You ate so much at second breakfast, that it shan't matter that you skipped elevensies," Merry rolled his eyes so far that they were in danger of disappearing through the backside of his head.
"I couldn't help it. I like crumpets."
"True, but you also took five helpings of bread and butter."
"Nay, I only took four."
"Big difference."
"There is."
"Quite on the contrary, my good Peregrin, you took seven helpings of bread and butter, six helpings of crumpets, a whole week's worth of cream, and so much strawberry jam and pancakes that I lost track."
"Is that all you did? Watch me eat my second breakfast?" Pippin's eyes popped out like tenpin balls.
Legolas shrugged. "Well, I got the desired result, which would be, very full, just watching you eat."
"Elves these days, don't know how to properly appreciate a second breakfast."
"Nay, we Elves do not eat second breakfast. We settle for one."
"Don't forget about the barrel of beer he took for breakfast!" Gimli joined the row.
"I give up. There are too many of you," Pippin threw up his hands in exasperation.
"Sigh, when will you children ever learn," Legolas shook his head.
"Now, now, Legolas, child. Don't chide until you're my age. Then you can say 'sigh, when will you children ever learn,'" Galadriel teased gently. "After all, you're only 2,497 years old."
"Humph. Grandmother, you yourself are only 5,234," Arwen laughed.
"And you're only 3,089, Undomiel dearest," Aragorn smiled.
"Ah, well. You're only 88, I think, Aragorn, so don't you mock me!" Arwen stuck out a delicate tongue.
"Nearly 89. March 1st, remember?" Aragorn replied.
"Why me?" Pippin moaned.
"Why you what?" I asked, curious.
"Why must I be the one with the stomach ache?" Pippin wailed.
"Well, Pippin, you were the one who ate two breakfasts, whilst for everyone else one would suffice," Bilbo snorted behind his hands.
"CHILDREN!" Gandalf barked. "We ought to get going, you know," he chided, though it was obvious that he was amused. "Darkness will hide our appearances."
Later October 14, 1422
Chapter 11
Well, now, there's a shock. Old Gandalf stopped debating. As a matter of fact, since we set off, he and Galadriel haven't argued yet. Well, as Queen Undomiel would say, "Sometime they would have to mature," although Gandalf isn't really a bad sort of chap. Galadriel herself is a pleasant lady, if not a wee bit vague. It must come from living all these years. Then again, maybe not. I heard that Galadriel is related to Fëanor. Half sister, I believe? Not to mention she is one of the Eldar.
Author's note- see The Silmarillion also by J.R.R. Tolkien
Hmmm, I wonder if she is acquainted with the Valar? Most likely not, I suppose.
After all, it takes more than that to be acquainted with the Valar. It is true that she is one of the Eldar, sent here by the Valar, but to be granted the presence of the Valar themselves is highly improbable.
"Frodo lad, let me see what you're writing," we had stopped riding for the moment (Pippin ran out of breath.) Bilbo reached over and took my pen and diary.
"Ahhhhhh. Ooh, tut tut," he perused my diary carefully. He tutted some more and bit the nub of the pen. Then, dipping it into an inkwell, he began to write.
"Our journey—old, eight days," I strained on my toes to see what he was writing.
Bilbo looked at me, seized my arm and said, "Now lad, wait till I'm done and copy this down into your book."
"Yes, uncle Bilbo."
"Hum de dum de deeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!" Bilbo hummed happily as he scribbled in my diary.
While he was writing, I glimpsed the word "weary" as I peeked over his shoulder. I seized the book.
"Oy there, Uncle Bilbo, don't strain yourself." I says. ." What are you writing about, anyway?"
But I never got my answer. He took back the book. "Come now, Uncle. What is it you are writing that you won't let me see?"
My answer was silence.
The only way I will receive information is by taking the diary. The words I read shock me. " 'Tis him, my Frodo, he makes me weary."
Bilbo eyed me and grabbed back the diary.
"But Uncle, what do you mean, I make you weary?" Frankly, I was puzzled. "I have not been over taxing you, have I?" Forget puzzled, I was anxious.
"I have completed my entry, laddie," Uncle Bilbo hands me back my diary with the air of one who heard nothing of what I said. I flipped it open and went back to the page where he was writing.
(In Bilbo's script)
Today we have journeyed far and wide. I, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire am weary. My journeying days grow short. My nephew, Frodo, the one writing this lovely book is seeming concerned about me. Thus he snatches my book—"Oy there, Uncle Bilbo, don't strain yourself. What are you writing about, anyway?" But I manage to take the book back before he discovers my potent information. "Come now, Uncle. What is it you are writing that you won't let me see? I shall see it anyway in the end." Alas, alas, the poor wee lad. He is still a child at heart, the one I remember of the Shire. He does not see that it is now journeying that makes me tired, nor even Morgoth. 'Tis him, my Frodo, he makes me weary. "But Uncle, what do you mean, I make you weary? I have not been over taxing you, have I?" he says, after reading this. I see him peering at me, afraid that his poor, frail uncle might collapse suddenly. HA! That proves that Frodo, lad, you still have a lot to learn.
"A lot to learn?" NOW I was puzzled.
"OI THERE! BILBO! FRODO! ARE YOU ALIVE!" Pippin hollered at us. I was brought back to reality with a jolt.
Aragorn came back. "Frodo, Bilbo, are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Dunadain. Perfectly fine," and despite my protests, he shoves away my arm and hobbles off to his horse.
Aragorn and I exchanged significant looks.
Bilbo glared at us impatiently. "All right, you. Just because I'm old certainly doesn't mean I'm senile. I know you're planning something. You're my nephew. He's an old friend. Don't think I can't guess your thoughts," he shook a finger at us.
Aragorn laughed and laughed and laughed.
"What's so funny?" Bilbo demanded, with his hands akimbo.
Aragorn just laughed. This time, I joined in. Bilbo really did look comical when he lectured.
"WELL?" Bilbo asked again. Aragorn just pointed at Bilbo and laughed.
"Now I think you're senile, you old fool," Bilbo shook his head wearily, pointing his finger at Aragorn.
"Right you are, Bilbo. I think he IS becoming senile in his old age." Queen Undomiel came over to see what the hold up was. Aragorn rolled his eyes. She laughed. "But we who are already old are unaffected, eh?" she said, with a slight wink at Bilbo.
"Exactly!" Bilbo beamed at her. "Now if you'll excuse me I have some work to do." And he tottered over to his horse and heaved himself up to his saddle. "We're off!" he shouted and brandished his sword. "We're off—whoa, there, pony."
Evidently the pony did not appreciate his rider brandishing a sword above its head. It shied, and Bilbo skinned his head against a tree branch. To make matters worse, his horse threw him and he landed against the tree trunk. Bilbo would have slid down, but his sword had been flung up into the air and hit his cloak as he slid off the trunk. "ARGH!!" Bilbo shrieked. He was stuck.
I couldn't help chuckling. This was exactly how Bilbo always wanted to end up, skewered to a tree by his own sword.
"IT'S NOT FUNNY!" Bilbo dangled on his cloak, still stuck to the trunk. Everyone else came back to watch the show.
"Uh-oh," Pippin said, pointing at Bilbo.
"Uh-oh what?" Cirdan, Legolas, Gandalf, Gimli, Galadriel, Celeborn, and Arwen asked.
"Uh-oh THAT!" Pippin, Merry, Sam, and I screeched. Bilbo's cloak was ripping.
Aragorn swore. "Bilbo, why must you constantly get into trouble?" he fumbled about for a cloak to catch Bilbo with.
Gandalf was more direct. He jumped up and lunged towards the tree, catching Bilbo just as he was about to plummet to his doom.
Everyone heaved a gigantic sigh, except for Aragorn. "DARN! WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS CLASP?"
A/N- This is where my story stopped. Uh oh. Better get cracking.