It was 6 o' clock in the morning and Bilbo felt like a streak after an appointment with a meat hammer.
Despite his tiresome training long into the night, poor Bilbo saw no reprieve; the Master of Bag-End had forced himself up and out of bed at a miserable 5 am, his shoulders as stiff as rusted barrows and his arms as heavy as lead weights.
"Oh, indeed I am useless this day…" the flaxen-haired hobbit moaned to himself in discomfort, right hand tenderly rubbing his opposite shoulder.
Maybe he'd started off a bit too strong last night.
Unfortunately, Bilbo was right.
It really really really wasn't his day.
At 6, when Bilbo had just managed to pull himself out of the bath and into his clothes, there came a sharp knocking on the door. And Bilbo, poor sleepy and disorientated Bilbo, answered without first considering who would be knocking on his door so insistently at such an early hour.
In all honesty- he had clean forgotten what torture was in store for him.
The sight of a too-bubbly Primula Brandybuck quickly remedied that oversight.
Bilbo half-hearted wondered if he'd survive slamming the door and barricading himself into the smial.
No, Bilbo regretfully concluded, Prim would definitely break in and hurt me.
As with all hobbit lasses, Prim was not afraid of expressing herself, even if in this instance it meant man-handling the second most eligible bachelor in the Shire out of his own home.
"Morning!" she sang, almost disgustingly cheerful. Unfortunately, the sunny expression on her face was too cute and Bilbo found himself quite unable to scowl at her as he so wished- Drat! He settled instead for an unhappy frown (he was pouting) as he stepping back to allow his younger friend inside. The Baggins had scarcely blinked before the Lass had let herself into the kitchen and popped the teapot over the fire (which was somehow already lit- how does she do that?) before starting to shoo him back towards his room for his waistcoat and to brush his tousled curls.
"Bilbo! Bilbo!" she flustered around the smial as if it was her own, "It's scarcely morning and there's already so much to do! We must leave immediately, I tell you! I've already been round Drogo's and he's not even up yet! Oooh that hobbit, I tell ya-," She rambled, already looking rather stressed. Her voice trailed off as she left Bilbo to get himself sorted; distantly, he could still hear her talking as she set about making tea for the two of them.
Why they were having tea when they needed to leave 'immediately' was beyond him.
Still…the sight of her panicked, red face as she ran around like a headless chicken forced a few chuckled from him as he pulled the wooden brush through his thick curls. Walking to his wardrobe, Bilbo rifled through the selection of waisted coats, still thinking about the tizzy Prim worked herself into every single year.
Bilbo couldn't help but wonder why; Prim wasn't even really involved in the organisation of this party! They were just expected to help with the lights and decorations in the afternoon.
Then again, Prim always got a little too into any sort of occasion…
She was talking again, he could hear it, and Bilbo laughed.
Hmm...emerald green or pale blue?
He fingered the golden buttons adorning the blue lapels of the latter, eyes considering the tasteful embroidery (curling golden fern-leaves) along the former's velvet edge.
"-and Winnie was so insistent that the cream be freshly whipped this morning, else it loses its volume overnight! But to ask Anthea to do yet another thing, on top of all those cream-buns, is just rude! Why can't she-,"
The green waistcoat slipped off its hanger and Bilbo swung the rich material around his shoulders ("-Owwww, that's sore!" he hissed halfway through the movement) before shrugging his arms through the holes.
"-well, I said no, of course! Agatha should know by now that I won't be dancing with just any lad that asks!-"
The buttons- satin and green as sweet grass- were fastened over his stomach, which was smooth and young, Bilbo admired with satisfaction; whilst his middle may not have been the hard and flat muscular torso desired by other races, it was firm yet rotund, like a proper hobbit at his prime!
Everything in order, Bilbo moved back into the hallway and through to the kitchen where, he noted with cleverly concealed laughter, Prim had somehow managed to turn a quick cup of tea into a breakfast spread that was extensive- even for two hobbits!
The hobbit herself was sat across from Bilbo's usual chair, hands fisted, long curls frizzy, and cheeks scrubbed red raw in distress. As Bilbo plopped himself down in front of the harried maiden, (one hand immediately moving to fill his plate whilst the other patted her hand in a soothing gesture) the older hobbit wondered how he was suddenly the one comforting Prim; considering what she had dragged him into last night!
Unfortunately for poor Bilbo, Prim had still been talking this entire time and, upon realising that nothing she had said had been heard at all, smacked her friend around the head with her summer fan.
Bilbo had tragically dropped his scone in shock; it landed clotted cream-side down and Prim wondered if he would cry.
(He almost did)
Straight down to business once more, however, Primula leaned across the breakfast spread and spoke with a serious glint in her eye and an even stronger tone in her voice; "Now, Bilbo, you and I must go down to market and gather all the ribbons we can for the party tree; there will be a May-pole again this time but it's been decided that the tree will be used for it this year- the ribbons we have already won't be long enough! Then, you and Drogo will need to help bringing up the tables and chairs with the lads- and then TinTin will probably want your help with the barrels-"
Bilbo wondered if it was too late to go back to bed and pretend to be contagiously ill.
Maybe, if he 'infected' TinTin, he wouldn't get in trouble with his cousin as they'd both miss out on the party!...
The glint in Prim's eyes, scarily reminiscent of a Warg about to pounce, said otherwise.
-oOOOo-
It was four o' clock in the afternoon and Bilbo felt like he'd arms had been ripped off and then sewn back on.
Another barrel was passed to the Master of Bag-End.
Sewn-on with rusty needles.
He heaved the ale across to Drogo, who looked ready to drop.
With Orc teeth and rough twine.
A few hobbits lasses passed by, arms laden with tablecloths, and the middle one (dusty auburn curls and grey eyes, dimples and freckled arms) winked flirtatiously at the time-traveller.
(He almost dropped the next barrel in discomfort)
(Drogo looked like he wanted to laugh)
(The lasses giggled loudly and seemed to take this as a sign of encouragement- Agatha Proudfoot, the one who'd winked, grinned and blew Bilbo a kiss before all three walked off.)
(Bilbo did drop the barrel, his face appalled, and Drogo did indeed laugh uproariously)
Thankfully, at that point, TinTin swooped in to send all of them off to get ready. The young Thain-Heir was tall (not as tall as Bilbo, though very few were), with floppy black curls and his mother's caramel eyes. His face was long, with a cheeky grin and sun-kissed skin; there was a reason he was the most eligible bachelor in the shire (not just because of his title).
After thanking the hobbits who had gathered around to help unload the barrels, TinTin wrapped an arm around Bilbo's shoulders; "'Bo, Mother wants you 'round ours before the party- I think she made you another garland."
"Oh, how kind of her!" Bilbo exclaimed, "I'll be right over TinTin as soon as I freshen up." The Baggins tried to step away from his cousin, with an awful thought that perhaps he'd caught wind of Bilbo's plan to ditch him the previous evening.
Judging by the nearby snickering forms of Drogo and Prim, heads bent together as their shoulders shook, Bilbo thought that the sinking feeling in his gut was most probably spot-on.
Gulp.
TinTin's arm was suddenly like a band of iron and his cousin was grinning a bit too widely.
"Oh, no Bilbo, that's no worry at all- I may as well go with you and then we can head back home together." TinTin, despite being shorter than his golden-haired cousin, started to lead Bilbo off towards Bag-End with no falter in his step and Bilbo was forced to follow.
Bilbo chuckled nervously before clearing his throat; "Y-you don't have to do that, TinTin! In fact, if I go get ready now, you'll have plenty of time to go home and do the same! Then, by the time I make it to yours, we'll both be on time, ay?" It was a good, logical plan, Bilbo reasoned.
TinTin evidently disagreed. The grin vanished from his face and his arm slipped from Bilbo's shoulders up to his neck; Bilbo found himself quite suddenly in a headlock, with his skull being rubbed a bit too hard by TinTin's fist; "Ohhh, no you don't, scoundrel! I know what you were planning! Leave little old me to fend for myself tonight whilst you lock yourself up in Bag-End with a glass of port-,"
– Bilbo wondered if his cousin would believe him if he said he'd actually planned to practice knife-throwing for an adventure in the near future –
"-and I doubt you even feel guilty, Ass! We're practically the same age, 'Bo and I've definitely been feeling some eyes burning holes in my head today - what will it be like tonight?!"
After all, it was awful good luck to get engaged on the Solstice. Traditionally, lasses were the ones to make the first move - to express interest and all that - but...well…
Bilbo and TinTin were disgustingly eligible and there had been seven weddings in the past 6 months alone and-
Bilbo, who had been futilely shoving his cousin's torso away this entire time, was finally released and looking distinctly worse for wear. TinTin guffawed a loud laugh that Bilbo eventually joined in with; "Ah- ha ha, maybe, ha, it's for the best you get tidied up beforehand now, ay?"
"Sorry, TinTin, I didn't mean to abandon you," Bilbo shook his head ruefully, he really should have known better than to try and slip past his cousin- TinTin was the future Thain after all. He'd be a brilliant one too as well, Bilbo had no doubt. In fact, if Bilbo remembered what Frodo had told him, TinTin had been rather brilliant as Thain; it was a shame the time-traveller couldn't for the life of him remember who'd eventually caught his cousin's eye…
"Ahhh, just don't do it again, Ass." TinTin rolled his eyes. Sometimes, it was a wonder that the Took was actually 7 years older than the Baggins. Then again, with Bilbo's extra years…
"…I would've invited you to hide and drink port anyway, if that makes it any better…"
The two couldn't help but laugh as they walked together down the lane.
(TinTin felt it was well with his rights to not mention how ridiculous Bilbo's hair stood up from his head.)
(or how he'd stuck a scrap of parchment with the scrawling words "Come and get me, Ladies" on his back!)
-oOOOo-
It was nine o' clock and Bilbo felt like his arms were more likely permanently damaged than just sore.
He'd just finished dancing with Aunt Dora and then with Prim but little Marigold would actually be the death of him. He'd only been dancing with her for five minutes and this was the fourth time she'd demanded he twirl her!
Granted she was only 6, a little doe of a fauntling that barely reached his waist- but he was tuckered out and a bit on the tipsy-side.
"Bo! Bo!" she squealed again, little arms raised aloft with chubby hands making grabby motions, her feet perched on top of his so they could 'dance'.
It was a real shame she'd inherited Aunt Dora's (her mother's) colouring and angel eyes; even though his shoulders felt like they'd been chewed by Wargs and he'd definitely had too much alcohol to dance with a 6-year-old, she was just too adorable to say 'no' to.
Dash it all! Bilbo mentally grumbled, as his arms once more swung his littlest cousin up into his arms for a twirl.
His face was beaming though as she pressed a messy kiss to his cheek, mumbling that she loved him before snuggling down into his shoulder with a content sigh.
-oOOOo-
It was eleven o' clock at night and Bilbo wondered if the hobbit lass who'd just tried to slip her hand up his shirt was drunk or if she was really just that bold.
Judging by TinTin's harassed expression, the girls really were just that bold. Although, at this point, everyone here was on some level of drunkenness by now.
Her hand, to Bilbo's aggravation, was not to be discouraged through.
When she pinched poor Bilbo's bottom he'd almost leapt a foot into the air, almost fallen face first into Agatha Proudfoot's bosom and almost head-butted TinTin in the stomach.
The group (pack) of girls (Wargs) that were standing (swarming) around TinTin and himself, and a few of the other lads, dispersed slightly in the confusion; Bilbo took the opportunity to duck underneath the nearest tablecloth, pulling the older Took with him (he'd learned his lesson earlier).
"Blimey!" Fortinbras gasped with hushed laughter as they simultaneously started to crawl underneath the long line of table, "I could scarce breathe! Olivia Maggot almost kissed me thrice! Now, there's being straightforward and confident, and then there's that!"
"I know!" Bilbo wholeheartedly agreed, nodding furiously, "What's gotten into them? Surely, they know that neither of us will go for anyone behaving like that?"
TinTin cackled "Oooh, I can just see it now!" he joked before raising his voice to imitate a little girl's; "Daddy! Daddy! How did you meet Mama? Well," his voice dropped to a deep rumble- a bit like Hamfast's father's! "She pinched my bum at a dance- and I knew I'd love her forever!"
Both hobbits laughed uproariously, faces red with all the ale they'd consumed so far, before what TinTin had actually described sank in.
"Haha- Wai-WAIT!" Bilbo yelped, both of them oblivious to the girls who'd heard their drunken, too-loud conversation and were now gathered around the table the two had collapsed under. "You-You saw what she-what happened when-," Bilbo splutter and TinTin rolled around clutching his stomach as he gasped with laughter.
"Agatha grabbed your ass!"
Bilbo's jaw dropped, face appalled but the moment was only made worse by the loud gasps that echoed all around them.
The two hobbits only then realised that they were not alone.
"Agatha!" was heard from all around before one girl screeched "How dare you touch my Bilbo that way!" and the sounds of a smack were heard all around.
From there, it descended into chaos.
"Your Bilbo? Why-"
"Don't you dare smack my sister-!"
"Girls, what's wrong with you both! Why, TinTin is so much-"
"Agatha, I saw him firs-"
"well, you're all just so stupid for preferring Bilbo over Tin-"
From underneath the edge of the tablecloth, Bilbo and TinTin could only watch in drunken horror as pairs of hobbit feet scrambled around them. That's when the pushing started and soon a bit of a scuffle broke out.
It was when their table was flipped over that TinTin and Bilbo were able to see how half the party had actually paused to watch the commotion.
Food was being knocked from the tables and a group of around seven or eight girls were trying to pull each other's hair out by the looks of it. A goblet of red wine almost bashed in TinTin's temple and a piece of cheesecake was wasted on Bilbo's trousers.
Bilbo could see Prim and Drogo dancing within his range of sight, the two of them chuckling like mad.
Indeed, this was awful.
The two hobbits (now half-sober from the sheer trauma) shared a look of abject terror and nodded in wordless agreement; running away to Bag-End for some warm port sounded lovely right about now!