Shirelings
Chapter 4
Brawls in Budgeford
The journey from Hobbiton to Budgeford was a simple and pleasant trek for the cousins, bringing them past peaceful pastures and through young wooded fields. The first night of the trip they walked and talked right into the dawn, and then decided to make camp under the thick roots of an old tree by the Water. Their rest was brief but satisfying and both were up and raring to move on after only a few hours.
The following day they hoofed it vigorously, all the while telling lighthearted jokes and singing old songs- adding their own colorful verses, of course. They were in high spirits despite having little sleep or food under their belts, ever looking forward to seeing Fatty Bolger and his jovial family again. That night they decided to drop some coins at a rather good (but oddly named) inn at Frogmorton and slept in soft beds once again.
After a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs and fried potatoes, they left the Floating Log and continued their eastward trip. It was a cool and comfortable day for long treks, and by mid-day they arrived at the Whitfurrows fork that would lead them off the Great East Road. There they lingered for little less than an hour to enjoy a modest lunch (by hobbit standards, anyway) before turning North to complete their trip.
Within several easy hours, they were crossing the bridge that ran over the Water and strolling through the quaint little streets of Budgeford. The sun was still quite bright when they arrived at the Bolger estate, a large and stately hobbit hole- though a fraction of the size of Bag End or either of the cousins' ancestral homes, of course. As they wandered past the unlocked gate and up the cobbled path, they couldn't help but wonder that the dwelling seemed a bit empty. Normally the windows would be ablaze with light and a cheery plume of smoke could be seen emanating from the chimney; but now all the windows were shut and the chimney seemed quite still.
They knocked on the door, but there came no answer, as was very much expected. Pippin plopped down upon the stoop while Merry began to pace and rub his chin in thought.
"You don't suppose they might have been kidnapped, do you?" Pippin finally suggested.
"Don't be silly, Pip," retorted Merry. "Who would want to kidnap Fatty and his folks?"
"Well, they're quite a bit well off," Pippin went on. "Fatty's pockets are always bursting with coins... that is, when they aren't bursting with pastries."
"Well, that's hardly the case now," came the dejected sigh of none other than their good friend Fatty Bolger. Fatty came trundling up to them looking very much like a sad droopy donkey. The lads quickly rushed over and took turns hugging him and slapping him on the back.
"Why, hello, Fatty! Whatever is the matter?" said Merry giving him a friendly punch on the shoulder that Fatty instinctively shrunk against.
"Dear Fatty, you look quite the sour puss! Has someone stolen a tart from you?" laughed Pippin.
"Oh, indeed! And more," said Fatty melodramatically. "I was at the town Housie game and I was this close to winning the whole pot. But then that sod Ollie Underhill won and now I haven't got enough for a consolatory drink at the pub."
"Why does that name sound so familiar?" said Merry quietly to himself.
"No matter, chum," said Pippin cheerfully. "Merry and I are here now and we can supply you with all the drinks you like. In fact, what's say we get our palates whet right now?"
Pippin wrapped his arms around Merry and Fatty's shoulders and began to lead them toward the gate, but Merry ducked out of the embrace and pulled back towards the house.
"Now that's a terrific idea, Pippin, except that it's very nearly almost time for supper," he said, pulling on Fatty's arm to lead him inside.
Pippin stared at Merry in confusion, but then followed his pointed gaze out at the road and could see the reason Merry would not want to leave the Bolger estate quite yet: just a little past the next residence, Fatty's parents and sister were coming down the lane.
"Oh, I suppose you're right," said Pippin as he helped Merry lead Fatty back towards the door. However Fatty now had other intentions and pulled in the other direction.
"No, no, believe it or not I am actually not hungry right now," said Fatty as his friends made comically exaggerated expressions of disbelief and shock. "I believe I could go for some ale after such a pathetic loss."
"Yes, but you see, we are hungry now after such a long journey," said Pippin as he dragged Fatty back to the door.
"And we can certainly have a drink later," said Merry. "What's the rush?"
Fatty looked from one to the other and then sighed, resigned to the late night drinking plan his friends had decided for him.
"Now, this isn't any fair, you know," he said, folding his arms. "You do promise we'll go at some point tonight, don't you? Perhaps before the sun rises?"
Pippin laughed and rubbed a knuckle in Fatty's hair- a thing Fatty did not find at all amusing. "Of course we'll go, you big loon! And I give you my solemn Took promise that we will stay the entire time, too."
Fatty scowled at the memory of their previous outing, when Merry and Pippin thought it would be a hilarious prank to leave him alone at the local tavern after he'd had a few too many drinks.
"You should feel exceptionally bad knowing that poor Estella had to come fetch me the next morning," he scolded them.
"Speak of the devil, hush up now," said Merry as he straightened out his jacket in time for Estella and the Bolger parents to come walking through the gate.
"Why, Freddy dear, why didn't you tell us that you were expecting guests tonight?" said his mother, Rosamunda, a rather plump and pleasant looking hobbit. "Had you said anything, I would have prepared a finer dinner, don't you know."
"What she means is, had she known, she would have wore something silly and garish and much too 'fashionable' for my tastes," said Fatty's father, Odovacar, a jolly looking gentle-hobbit with a receding hairline. "Good to see you, lads," he added, clapping Merry and Pippin across the backs, before unlocking the door and heading inside.
Rosamunda snorted at her husband's teasing and shortly proceeded to pinching Merry and Pippin's cheeks. The two endured the brief torture with brave smiles before she too entered the dwelling, announcing that dinner would be ready within half an hour.
Fatty and Pippin quickly rushed in afterward, but Merry lingered outside to give a proper greeting to Estella. Estella smiled but pulled away as he tried to embrace her.
"Merry, not now," she said warningly. "You know what might happen if my parents found out."
"They'd pinch my cheeks some more and welcome me into the family?" he said playfully.
"Hardly, I'm sure," said Estella as she peeked into the doorway to make sure no one was spying on them. "They'd cut you off from me quicker than you can say 'barricaded windows.'"
"First of all, I really can't believe your parents could harbor such an animosity towards me," said Merry shutting the door and taking Estella's hands. "And second, even if they did disapprove, nothing could keep me away from you. Not barricaded windows, not a moat filled with boiling oil."
Estella laughed and then touched Merry's cheek gently. "All the same, I would prefer if you could behave yourself while you stay. Let's not let them find out just yet."
"Oh fine," said Merry with an exasperated sigh. "But can I at least get a kiss? A small one? While no one is looking?"
Estella looked about to make sure there was indeed no one watching them- and there wasn't. She gave him a quick, disappointing peck and then opened the door.
"And don't let Fatty know, either," she hissed as she went inside.
"I'm just so terribly afraid of what Fatty will do," he grumbled as he rolled his eyes and followed after her.
The company of hobbits sat at a round table loaded with a colorful plethora of mouth-watering dishes, some hot and steaming, others cool and fresh, but all contributing to the heavenly scent that filled the dining room. The Bolgers listened and laughed as their guests regaled them with tales of their many amusing adventures. Presently Pippin was enthusiastically telling the story that explained why they all preferred the Green Dragon to its neighboring inn, the Ivy Bush.
"-so I turned to him and said as kindly as possible, 'Would you please tell your grandfather not to spit in my ale?' And do you know what the barkeep said?" he asked the table as he stood up and placed his hands on his hips.
Fatty covered his mouth to hide his snickering, as he knew how the story ended. Estella simply shook her head, having also heard the tale a substantial number of times. Their parents, however, listened intently and shook their heads in response to the rhetorical question.
"Well, he turned a most unflattering shade of violet and said..." And at this point, Pippin put on a rather exaggerated West Farthing accent. "'That ain't my grandfather, boy-o; that there be my wife!'"
The room erupted into laughter and Pippin pretended to fall over, only to climb onto his seat and bow dramatically. Merry pulled him down, although he too was still laughing quite hard.
"Suffice it to say, we have been barred from that fine establishment ever since," he added, capping the story with its moral.
"You boys do tell fine stories," said Rosamunda wiping her eyes. "Though I'm rather happy Freddy isn't often included in them."
"Oh, pish posh, they're just being polite," said Fatty with a laugh. "I'm sure if they were in different company, they'd be telling all sorts of wonderful stories where I embarrass myself in some way or another."
"Now that isn't true, either!" said Pippin after taking a hearty swig of cider. "We wouldn't want to bore any party with stories about you, Freddy."
Fatty feigned offense at first, but quickly joined the rest in laughter at the joke. A full stomach would improve any hobbit's mood and especially one as enamored with eating as Fatty.
"I'm afraid I'll have to agree with my wife," began Odovacar. "Entertaining as your adventures are, lads, I'm a trifle pleased our Freddy doesn't get in nearly as much trouble as your fathers tell us you do."
Merry and Pippin continued to smile, but not without the hint of annoyance that their fathers should complain about them in their correspondence with Odovacar, old friend though he might be.
"Fredegar is getting at that age where a reputation of mischief and tomfoolery is not quite so becoming. An age where one seeks to settle down with a comely lass and move out from his parents' home," Odovacar said this pointedly to Fatty who pretended to be terribly intrigued by the mountain of mashed potatoes on his plate.
Merry took a large and unfortunately loud bite of his buttered toast while Pippin chuckled as he shoveled a spoonful of peas into his mouth- just in time for the older Bolgers to turn their attention back upon their guests.
"And I don't suppose you boys have had any thoughts about trading in your adventures for brides?" said Rosamunda inquisitively.
Merry and Pippin nearly spat out what they'd been chewing, but managed to contain themselves. Pippin only let a stray pea escape from his left nostril, which he quickly covered with his mug.
"Surely you jest!" he exclaimed after finally swallowing. "I'm only twenty-seven! I still have a long many years of lollygagging before that's even acceptable."
"That's fair. But now you, Merry," said Rosamunda as she turned to the older cousin, who, at 35 was well within the marrying age. "You are no tweenager. Surely you are beginning to tire of this philandering?"
"Now, now, Rosa. Let's not jump to conclusions, here," interrupted her husband. "Just because the boy hasn't announced a wedding yet, doesn't mean he hasn't got it on the mind."
Merry looked nervously from Odovacar, who seemed to know more than he was admitting, to Estella, who looked just as confounded as Merry felt.
"No, dear, I think Merry has a special lass that he just doesn't like telling us about," the older Bolger went on, wrapping an arm around Merry, whose ruddy complexion became more sanguine by the second.
Estella began to cough rather violently and Rosamunda filled her a glass of fresh water while Fatty clapped her hard on the back.
"How do you figure that, sir?" said Merry in an uncharacteristically meek tone.
"Well, how do you think? Your father's written me an ear-full about how you write all those letters you're so secretive about." Turning to his wife, he continued, "Why else would he be so careful about writing letters and hiding them from his family, hmm?"
Merry's slight annoyance at his father's gossipy correspondence was turning into utter frustration, to know that he shared secrets and made up theories about his personal, private matters. Matters he didn't even divulge to Pippin, his closest friend and practically his brother.
Pippin, however, was not at all affronted and found the whole situation quite entertaining. "Merry, you never told me you wrote love letters! I bet they're all sorts of horrible, florid prose," he said laughing.
"I'm sure they're not!" exclaimed Estella, unable to contain herself, having been the recipient of what she thought were very sweet and thoughtful letters.
"How would you know?" snapped Merry in an accidentally rude tone as he shot her a very specific look.
"I wouldn't!" Estella quickly stammered, understanding the gist of his look. "I would have absolutely no idea. Really!"
"Well, that's too bad," sighed Rosamunda. "I was hoping you'd take an interest in our little Estella."
"You were?" sputtered Merry, feeling very confused and just a little bit hopeful. Estella gave him a swift kick under the table.
"I mean, of course not," he went on, having woken up a bit from the kick. "Ugh, I would never! What? Estella? Why, she's... she's... she's..."
He stared from a horrified Estella to her bewildered parents to Fatty and Pippin who looked rightfully amused at his fumbling and then back to Estella, until he thought he found the right words, even if he didn't believe what he was saying.
"She's like a sister to me?"
Estella nodded slightly in approval while her parents shrugged and went back to eating. He let out a breath of relief and started to eat again, as well.
"It's still a pity, all the same," said Rosamunda suddenly. "I'd much rather have you for a son-in-law than any of those local rascals that keep following her around town. My, if you'd only see the line of suitors, you'd surely faint!"
Had a moment of dramatic silence ensued, it wouldn't have been half as awkward as the mundane sounds of eating and casual dinner chatter that actually followed. Only Merry and Estella sat quietly, as the former glared holes into the latter and she returned the glare with a pleading look, begging him not to make a scene. Ever the tactful hobbit, Merry excused himself from the table without a fuss.
"Dinner was remarkably good, but now I am quite full," he said calmly and pleasantly as he stood up. "I hope you will not mind if I take my evening smoke now, even if it is a little early."
"Heavens, by all means," said Odovacar, not noticing how overly cordial Merry's speech was.
"But won't you be joining us for dessert?" said Rosamunda sounding slightly disappointed. "I made my special treacle and Estella baked a splendid pound cake."
"No, no, quite full," said Merry as he patted his stomach and backed out of the room. "Freddy, Pip: I'll meet you at the Budgie's Crown in a little while."
"That means more treacle for me!" called Pippin with a wave as Merry headed down the hallway towards the yard.
He followed the winding path until he'd come to the back of the house and stepped out into the cool evening air. And evening though it was, at well past 6 PM, the sun was still setting when he found himself storming through the garden. The lovely effect of the sunset on the flowers made it in fact somewhat difficult for Merry to storm or huff or stomp, so instead he did as he said he would and pulled out his pipe.
As he began to puff away while angrily contemplating a particularly picturesque bush of begonias, he heard the door creak somewhere behind him and turned around to see Estella joining him in the garden. He looked down and pretended to study one of the pink blossoms while she approached him slowly and sheepishly.
"I'm sure you think you can explain it all away," he said quietly once she was standing next to him. "I'm sure you think you have a very good reason for doing what you've done. And, well... you ought to, frankly!"
"I'm sorry," said Estella with her head down. Merry kept his head down, as well.
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I haven't got a very good reason," she continued, leading Merry to jerk his head up and stare at her.
"What do you mean, you 'haven't got a very good reason'?" he said loudly, his temper finally revealing itself. "Do you mean to say you've just been having a nice game with me all this time? That there hasn't been a point to any of this?"
"I didn't say that," said Estella, attempting to maintain her composure. "I just mean that I can't quite explain why I did any of that. Not yet."
"Oh, not yet! That's very helpful, thanks!" said Merry as he began to pace about the garden.
"Merry, please! Try to calm down," said Estella as she clutched at his arm. "I know it seems horrible, but it's really not as bad as you think."
"Not as bad as you toying with my feelings?" Merry shouted as he wrenched out of her grip. "Telling me your parents can't stand the thought of us together. Now give me the truth: it's you that can't stand us together, isn't it?"
"That isn't it at all and I do wish you would hush up," hissed Estella, who was beginning to reveal her own frustration with the argument. "Someone might hear!"
"Who is going to hear?" said Merry spinning about in the large empty garden and pointing at the patch of woods that sat beyond the fence. "Or maybe someone from your 'line of suitors' is hiding there in a tree. Wouldn't want Mr. So-and-So hearing you quarrel with Lover Number 34. Or perhaps I don't warrant a number so high up on the list? What number am I?"
"You're being terribly unfair!" cried Estella, tears welling in her eyes. "Just because I haven't given you every detail of my personal affairs does not give you the right to abuse me so!"
"I'm being unfair? I'm being unfair?" laughed Merry sardonically. "After all I've heard, you give me nothing insofar as an explanation, and then you act surprised that I become a little cross!"
"A little cross? You're screaming at me over practically nothing," said Estella, now shouting just as loudly as Merry. "I'd hate to see you if you were actually angry, then!"
With that Estella turned about face and began to march back towards the house. Merry stared at her as she left, dumbfounded and still quite livid.
"You can't get mad at me when I'm the one that's been double-crossed!" he shouted after her.
"Go ahead and watch me!" she called back without so much as a glance.
"Oh, that's fine, Estella! That's fantastic!" he said as she reached the door. "Well, luckily for you Number 34 is now done! Do you hear? I'm finished!"
She slammed the door shut loudly and he threw his pipe against an obnoxiously perky-looking cherry tree. He stood in place breathing heavily for a moment and then went over to pick up his pipe. After wiping it off and pocketing it, he made up his mind to go for a walk and left the Bolger property.
Just then the curtains were drawn from one of the windows and Fatty and Pippin popped their heads out, having heard most of the previous conversation.
"Do you think we ought to tell him just how much my mother was exaggerating?" Fatty asked Pippin, who took a moment to contemplate the question.
"Perhaps we should... but perhaps we might wait until he is in a better state of mind," said Pippin very carefully. "Lest we find ourselves receiving the brunt of his tantrum," he continued as he climbed out the window.
"Or his blows," added Fatty as he followed suit.
"That's what I meant," said Pippin, rolling his eyes.
They began to walk up the path that lead around the house and out the gate. Fatty stopped and rubbed his chin in thought.
"What if we got him very, very drunk?" mused Fatty out loud. Pippin clapped his hand to his forehead.
"That, too, was meant to be obvious," said Pippin as he pulled Fatty out the gate and down the road.
The sign hanging from the building's awning told Pippin they'd arrived at the Budgie's Crown, the town's only tavern: there was an image of a bright greenish-yellow bird with a playful little golden crown painted upon it.
"I still think that's the worst pun I've ever heard of," remarked Pippin as they entered the crowded establishment. "And I rather like puns."
"And I think it's clever," said Fatty while looking around to spot Merry. "Not only does it make reference to Budgeford, but it plays on the proper name of a budgie's forehead, that is, the crown."
Pippin stopped in his tracks to stare at his friend in amused bewilderment.
"'Proper name'? Fatty, when have you ever seen a real budgie?" he asked, cocking his head slightly.
"I'll have you know Filibert Bolger, my second cousin once removed, brought Estella and me a pair of budgies when he went on his honeymoon with his wife Poppy," said Fatty looking quite proud.
"Oh, that's rather nice. Where did they go?" said Pippin, genuinely intrigued.
"Some awful far-away place way South of things," said Fatty with a shudder. "Poor Poppy said it was terribly humid and her hair turned into a giant ball of fluff."
"Well, short of that hair-raising problem, I think it sounds exciting," said Pippin, chuckling at what he thought to be a successful pun. Fatty rolled his eyes.
"All the same, I'm glad it was them that went and not me," he said as he returned to scanning the room. Suddenly his eyes lit up and he pointed. "Speaking of distant relations, there's Merry now."
Pippin followed Fatty's gaze and found Merry sitting alone in a darkened corner, flanked by several large empty flagons. He clung to an almost empty mug of ale and stared morosely into its depths. Pippin and Fatty joined him at the table after meandering their way through the packed room.
"And how are we doing at table number 34?" said Pippin with a grin, hoping Merry was already too far gone to pull a swing at him.
"Ah, sod off," slurred Merry. Pippin smirked at Fatty and sat down, knowing his cousin was now more or less harmless. He almost never got in a fight when he was this inebriated... almost.
"But really Merry- how are you feeling?" said Pippin as he patted Merry's shoulder.
"Like I've been trampled by a pack of trolls and turned into a fine paste," said Merry after downing the last bit of drink he had.
"A fine angry paste or a fine sad paste?" said Fatty with not some little amount of uncertainty as he remained standing. Merry moaned and planted his head into the hard wooden table. Pippin turned to Fatty and silently mouthed, "Sad paste."
The two nodded and pulled Merry up into a proper seated position. Pippin examined Merry's red forehead and clucked in disapproval. Fatty finally sat down and Merry fell onto him sideways, leaning on his shoulder in a pathetic state of drunken depression.
"Now this is just absurd!" cried Fatty in discomfort as he tried in vain to push Merry off.
"I wholeheartedly agree," said Pippin as he snapped his fingers at a rather buxom waitress who pretended not to notice. "Merry, how could you come here and have so much to drink without waiting for us? And how has this waitress not come over yet?"
He stood up and walked up to the waitress, tapping her on the shoulder now. She turned around and sighed much too greatly. "Aye, what'll you be having, then?" she finally said.
"See what my friend has over there?" said Pippin pointing at Merry's little table with its now four empty mugs. "Double that."
The waitress stared at him blankly.
"Eight more ales, please. Thanks very much, Miss," said Pippin smiling brightly as the waitress rolled her eyes and headed off to get their drinks. He sat back down and pulled Merry off of Fatty (much to his relief) to drape his limp arm around his shoulder.
"You see, that is how you talk to a lady," he said to Merry, whose unfocused gaze was sharpening into a glare. "No shouting, no threats- just nice and easy, there you go."
"What do you know about talking to ladies?" said Merry as his loose arm began to lock around Pippin's neck. Fatty sensed that an unwelcome wrestling match could start up very soon and decided to speak up.
"Only that my mother doesn't quite know what she's saying all the time," he said quickly while prying Merry's arm off of Pippin. "She sees some bold lad following Estella around or simply outright flirting and assumes it's a new courtship. It doesn't mean anything, though."
"Right, but if it doesn't mean anything, why should Estella have such a hard time telling me about it?" said Merry after finally releasing his grip on Pippin, who gasped wildly for air before clearing his throat.
"Well, come on, Merry," he said with effort. "Do you tell her about every lass that winks at you? Or more importantly, every lass that you wink at?"
Merry mulled this over in silence just as the pretty waitress came over with all of their drinks in tow. As she placed them on the table, all three fellows grinned broadly at her. She shook her head and disappeared when another table called her over. Pippin raised his eyebrows and his arms in a gesture that said, "You see?"
"I suppose you're right," said Merry as he reached for one of the drinks, only to have his hand slapped away by both friends at the same time. "All right, fine! I'll be thirsty then. But I still don't understand why she's so against telling your parents. Did you hear how they were going on? Practically begging me to go after her."
Fatty shrugged as he took a small sip of his ale; Pippin, meanwhile, had already finished his first mug and was moving onto his second.
"Do you think I can decipher all the nonsensical things my sister does?" said Fatty. "This might just be something you need to sort out with her... without having a screaming match, mind you."
Merry chuckled while scratching the back of his neck. "Suppose I ought to apologize for that then, eh?" he said with a sheepish half-smile.
"Yes, and while you're at it, maybe apologize for not telling me you fancied my sister?" said Fatty as Merry began to blush furiously. "I'd strike you such a blow if I weren't a pacifist!"
"Pacifist, eh?" chuckled Pippin. "Is that the 'proper name' for a pansy, now?"
"Come off it!" snapped Fatty half-playfully and half-offended. Pippin punched him gently on the shoulder and in return Fatty hit him somewhat harder back.
"Is that a challenge, Mr. Pansy?" cried Pippin gleefully as he punched Fatty on the shoulder in earnest. Fatty winced and rubbed the spot before pulling back and accidentally landing a surprisingly solid blow into Merry's arm.
"Oh, you did not want to do that!" shouted Merry as he rammed into Fatty's side, causing both of them to tumble off their chairs. Pippin whooped with laughter as the two grappled on the floor, appearing for all the world as two of the silliest and least graceful brawlers to ever get into fisticuffs over nothing. A small crowd quickly surrounded them and Pippin hazily realized that this could lead to actual trouble.
"All right, all right, that's more than enough," he said as he laboriously pulled them apart. "Don't want to get us barred from this inn, too, now do we?"
Merry and Fatty climbed back onto their seats and the disappointed crowd dispersed immediately.
"Good match, eh?" said Merry grinning at Fatty who let loose a high jittery laugh. He wasn't used to getting into fights and in fact preferred wheedling his way out of situations that seemed to be heading in a rough direction, but he had to admit to himself that it had been an exhilarating two and a half minutes.
Just as they began to settle down, they suddenly heard harsh laughter from a few tables over.
"Always knew that Bolger was a cowardly lard," jeered a cruel voice. "Never reckoned him a poof, though!"
"Muckin' about like that in public," came another voice. "Downright disgraceful, it is."
Pippin turned around to glare at his friend's bullies, but could not find the source of the taunting as whoever it was had gone silent and he was faced with a sea of backs of heads. He looked at Fatty who only gazed into the depths of his ale, silenced by his humiliation.
"Aren't you going to say anything?" he asked. "You shouldn't put up with that sort of thing! Not from anyone that's not us, that is."
But Fatty only shrugged and continued to look downwards into his mug. "There isn't any use," he sighed. "It's best to just ignore it."
"Who was that?" said Merry, screwing up his face in thought. "The first one sounded terribly familiar."
"They're just local goons," said Fatty after finally taking a gulp of his lonely drink. "Ollie Underhill and Roger Goodbody. I told you about Ollie before- he's the sod that beat me at Housie earlier. Took all my rightful winnings."
"Look at him, sittin' there lookin' like a great ponce!" "What's he drinkin' there? Lemonade?"
Fatty sighed angrily at the barrage of insults but remained silent. Pippin, however, stood up and found the offending duo, two ugly blokes sitting a couple of tables over, laughing and pointing at his embarrassed friend.
"Oi!" he called out, having spotted them. "Why don't you two leave him alone? He hasn't even done anything to you!"
"Pippin, don't!" cried Fatty as he frantically attempted to pull him back down to his seat. "You'll only make it worse!"
But Pippin remained standing and now Merry joined him, as well. "Pippin's right," he said as he stood up. "No friend of ours will be so mistreated while we're around to stop it."
"You lot better stop it, before-" Merry cut himself off as one of the rude hobbits turned around and a horrible wave of recognition swept over him. Fatty's Ollie Underhill was the very same one who'd harassed him and Estella more than a week ago when they were in Hobbiton!
"I know you, you rotten goblin-faced mongrel!" he cried as he tried to lunge at him, only to have Pippin and Fatty hold him back.
"Such ugly words from a fop dressed so pretty!" sneered Ollie. "Why don't you come say that to my face, then, Brandybuck?"
"And why don't you boys take this out of my bar?" said the well-endowed waitress from before. She came striding out from the kitchen and it dawned on Pippin that she wasn't a waitress at all, but the tavern's proprietress.
"Now, Cherry, Darlin'," said Ollie, changing his demeanor to one oozing charm and flattery. "There ain't no need for that. We're just havin' a laugh."
"Laugh or no, I'd prefer you take it outside rather than wreck the place," she said as two burly cooks stepped out of the kitchen to join her. Ollie stared from her to Merry to the glowering cooks and then shook his head, smiling an extremely forced smile.
"Whatever you say, Darlin'," he said as he dropped some money on the table and began to leave with his friend in tow. He turned to Merry and pointed, adding, "I'll be out there waitin' for you, Brandybuck."
He disappeared out of the tavern, but Roger stopped and added, "Don't make us wait too long, mate. I reckon it's gettin' right chilly out there, you know?"
"I'll take that one on," said Fatty quietly as he watched Roger exit.
"Don't you think three against two is a little unfair?" said Pippin as he cracked his knuckles, preparing for what he assumed would be a quick fight.
"Not if their friend Tibs joins them," said Fatty, not noticing that Merry was behind them gulping down the rest of his untouched drinks. "He's never far when those two take to a brawl of any sort."
"'Tibs', eh?" said Pippin. "Doesn't sound too menacing. I think I can handle him."
Fatty laughed and shook his head. "Well, best of luck to you, then. And to us all." He turned to Merry who was still guzzling the remaining ale. "Merry, you started this. Now do you mind?"
"Just a bit of liquid courage," said Merry as he slammed the empty flagon down. "And now I'm ready!"
As the three crossed the room, Pippin turned and called out, "Won't you wish us luck, good hobbits of Budgeford?" The crowd responded with a resounding chorus of "Bah!" as the drinkers waved at them to hurry up and leave.
"I'll buy you all drinks if we win!" he added quickly, which led to the room cheering and wishing them a speedy victory. "That's more like it," he laughed as he followed the other two out the door.
Outside all was still and quiet, save for the chirping crickets and the shuffling of their opponents' feet as they smoked their pipes. Ollie came up to Merry with a mean smirk on his face and emptied his pipe on Merry's foot. Merry leaped at him and the two instantly fell to swings.
Fatty walked over to Roger, who continued to smoke a while longer, and said, "I'm afraid it'll have to be between us-"
His pleasantries were cut short by a rude punch to the face from Roger. Fatty tumbled to the ground, wincing in pain as he watched his rival casually and slowly put away his pipe. It came to Roger as a great surprise when Fatty jumped up to his feet and tackled him in a surprisingly swift motion.
Only Pippin remained unharmed and a little bored while his friends pummeled their enemies. He looked around wondering where this little fellow 'Tibs' would be. Perhaps the hobbit saw him step out of the inn, grew fearful, and ran off. Pippin chuckled and thought to himself, 'Well, I am a thoroughly imposing chap. Perhaps I ought to lend Fatty a hand?'
As he mused to himself, the nearby outhouse door swung open and a dark massive figure squeezed out of the narrow exit. It stepped into the moonlight and Pippin gasped to see the largest hobbit he'd ever laid eyes upon. He must have been roughly 4 feet and 4 inches, just an inch shy of the legendary Bandobras Took, a giant among hobbits. He lumbered over to Ollie, whose face was being shoved into a pile of mud by Merry as he sat on him.
"Nice to see you join us, Tibs," sputtered Ollie as he kicked Merry off and managed to get up for a moment. "You can take care of the skinny one over there," he added, pointing at Pippin, before Merry seized him into a vicious headlock.
Pippin's eyes widened in horror as the humongous hobbit turned to face him. "You are Tibs? But you don't look like a Tibs!" he cried as Tibs began to approach him.
"Only my friends call me that," came the deep rumble of a reply. "You can call me Mr. Thudfoot."
"Yes, sir, Mr. Thudfoot," Pippin yammered as he backed away into a wall. "And you can call me Mr. Took. I come from a very wealthy family, you know, so I don't see why we can't find a peaceful solution to our-"
Tibs didn't give Pippin the chance to finish as he lifted him high over his head and tossed him into a patch of bushes.
Fatty watched Pippin go sailing into the foliage with a high-pitched shriek, turned to Roger, whose head he was banging into the side of a tree, and said, "Suppose I should have warned him that your friend isn't from these parts?"
"Aye, probably," said Roger before jamming a sharp elbow into Fatty's gut, causing him to let go and stumble backwards.
Meanwhile Pippin stumbled out of the bushes in a daze and brushed off his breeches. "I'm quite all right! No need to worry about me," he announced. Pulling a leaf out of his hair he looked around and found Tibs to be leaning against the rickety outhouse, picking the wax out of his ear and observing the fight without paying him any notice.
"Right then. Back to it!" he said to himself with a snap of the fingers. He crept over to the outhouse, silent as a mouse, and climbed up a sturdy little tree that leaned over it. He stepped onto the roof of the outhouse and after taking a deep breath, jumped onto the giant foe's back with a wild shout of "For Tuckborough!"
The larger hobbit shouted in surprise and pain as Pippin hung around his neck and boxed his ears. He bucked and staggered about, attempting to wrench his small assailant off, but only managed to trip over Merry and Ollie as they wrestled on the ground. Tibs went tumbling down onto the ground and hit his head upon a large flower pot, thus shattering the pot and losing his own consciousness in the process. Pippin remained sitting on top of his fallen adversary and decided to have a bit of a relaxing smoke while he waited for his comrades to finish up.
Merry and Ollie continued to grapple on the ground while exchanging insults when suddenly two young children approached the scene. The older was a girl about fifteen or sixteen and the younger was a boy several years younger; he seemed thoroughly more excited by the rumpus than his sister, who tapped her foot impatiently. She cleared her throat loudly and Merry and Ollie finally paused to look up.
"Mum says to stop foolin' around and come home immediately," she proclaimed. "She means it, Ollie. She made me bring a switch." The girl produced a thin wooden rod and brandished it threateningly.
"Bloody hell, Tilly! Can't you see I'm in the middle of somethin'?" said Ollie from underneath Merry, who stared at the children feeling rather awkward and wondered whether or not to get up.
"Can I help?" said the younger brother. "I've always wanted to get in a bar fight! I can get that scrawny one," he added, pointing at Pippin.
"That's fine, thank you," said Pippin waving his hand dismissively.
"Don't you even think about it, Toddy!" cried Tilly as she lightly struck her younger brother upon the shoulder with the switch.
"Ow! I was only jokin'!" said Toddy as he pulled back cringing.
Ollie had enough and pushed Merry off, which took little effort considering Merry had already lost much of his fighting spirit. He limped over to Roger, who was engaged in a pathetic slapping match with Fatty, and patted him on the back.
"Let's call it a night, mate," he said as he pulled him away. Roger acquiesced and began to leave, but not before Fatty gave him one last kick in the bottom. Roger glared at Fatty and made a very rude gesture, before turning away and heading for the road.
Ollie let his siblings lead them off, but briefly stopped to look back and give Merry one last nasty smirk.
"This ain't the last time, Brandybuck," he called out. "I'm not done with you by a long shot."
"Yes, well, I'm hardly done with you either, Underhill!" shouted Merry as he rose to his feet. But by then they'd all disappeared around the bend. He exhaled roughly and kicked at the ground as Pippin and Fatty came over to join him.
"That went rather well, didn't it?" said Pippin cheerfully.
"Well, I can't speak for all of us, but I'm certainly proud with myself," said Fatty rubbing his tender jaw. "I stayed on my feet nearly the entire time. That's a new record."
"Oh, yes, so proud. It isn't as if you had to fight a half-troll or anything," said Pippin sarcastically. "How very nice of you to avoid mentioning that little detail to me."
"You handled yourself well enough, though," said Fatty gesturing at Tibs, who remained on the ground, unconscious as ever.
"Speaking of which, didn't you say you would treat the entire inn to drinks if you won?" said Merry, wrapping his arm around Pippin.
"I said if 'we' won and we didn't, did we? It was more or less a draw," said Pippin. "By the way, you're bleeding on me."
Merry felt his nose and wiped away the blood, chuckling. Fatty took the moment to spit out a tooth. Merry and Pippin stared at him in alarm, but he shrugged his shoulders and laughed.
"I don't think I needed that one, anyway," he said before opening his mouth to reveal an empty spot way in the back of his lower gum. They all laughed and started to limp home, going over each one of their battles and describing how well they did.
They were soon coming up to the Bolger residence and Fatty began to undo the gate latch. Suddenly there came a whistle from down the lane and they turned to see Ollie again, this time standing by himself.
"What do you want now?" said Fatty, exhausted and quite frustrated at this point.
"Not much, Bolger," called Ollie in his usual mocking tone. "Just tell your sister I said 'Hello'!"
And with that he disappeared back from whence he came and Fatty huffed in annoyance before returning to the latch. He opened the gate and let his guests pass through ahead of him. Merry, however, was unsettled and stopped in front of Fatty, blocking off the way.
"What did he mean by that?" he asked. "Does he know Estella?"
"Know her?" said Fatty as he went around Merry. "He's one of those fellows that comes onto her all the time. Biggest fan, as a matter of fact."
"Why didn't you tell me that before?" said Merry panicking now. "Actually, why didn't she tell me that before? He harassed us in Hobbiton and she just pretended not to know him!"
"Oh, I'm sure it isn't anything," said Fatty, realizing he'd made an unfortunate blunder. "You mustn't get upset again, Merry!"
But Merry was well past upset and was fuming all over again. He went storming into the house and Fatty ran after him, begging him to calm down. Pippin sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets, realizing that there was little to do at this point but try to get a good night's rest. As he did so, he found a strange little folded piece of paper in his right pocket. He pulled it apart and laughed as he read it.
"Diamond Took, Great Northern Smials, Smials Hill, Long Cleeve, North Farthing," he said out loud with a huge grin. "Cheeky thing left me her calling card and I had no idea. Well, we'll see if I don't pay her back with a different sort of surprise."
He entered the house and came upon Estella pressing a cold rag to Fatty's bruised and somewhat swollen jaw.
"Your cousin is a terrible fool," she muttered, visibly agitated. "He's in the guest room we set up for you both, sulking like a great child."
"Never mind Merry," said Pippin, still grinning broadly. "What's important now is that we find some paper, a pen, and ink. I have a formal invitation to write!"
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