13. Spike and Snap
All afternoon Frodo regaled Belle with stories of Elves, Men, Dwarves, and even a few about some strange creatures called Ents. Every time that he became lost in thought or drifted into silence Belle would ask another question and off he'd go again. Belle was stunned at the tales that he could tell. Even if they were all slightly fantastic and impossible they were still thrilling, and the descriptions were beautiful. There was certainly no denying that Frodo Baggins was a wonderful storyteller, despite the frequent pauses for water. Belle was entirely under the enchantment of the tales. It wasn't that she believed them, necessarily, but in this moment, and under the beauty of those stories one simply had to banish doubt to the back of her mind, if only for a little while. And so, though she didn't realise it, for the first time ever Belle actually heard the Elven tales that she had so despised since she was a child of nine and decided that she didn't have time for "fairy-tale nonsense" any longer.
It was nearly eight by the time that they reached their destination for the night. Elmas called it the halfway point, but in reality it was a cosy inn a little under two-thirds of the way to Michel Delving named the Apple Barrel. Elmas stayed out with the ponies while the three gentlehobbits went in to see about accommodations for the night. Inside, the inn was already quite crowded with hobbits drinking, laughing, eating, singing, or just sitting down and enjoying a late meal. Before the fireplace a group of older hobbits argued some point or other while a crowd of the younger set were having a merry party on the other side of the room. Two of the lads were up on the table while the others all pranced and twirled around them. The two on the table had their arms slung around each other's shoulders and mugs in their free hands as they laughed and chanted nonsensically,
"Gambol and totter till you're
Hotter than a hatter and you
Spin all akimbo
Like a windmill flailing.
Whirl with a clatter till you
Scatter every cotter and the
Strings start a-pinging as the
World goes sailing!"
At Belle's side Frodo began chuckling. "Well, that song gets around," he murmured.
Belle looked at him in surprise. "What, you know it?"
"Know it?" he smirked. "Merry and Pippin wrote it! The idea came from Bilbo, of course, but the tune and those lyrics are all their own."
"Excuse me. Innkeeper!" Largo called as a rotund hobbit in a flapping white apron rushed by bearing a large platter of mugs.
"Half a moment, good sir!" the hobbit threw back over his shoulder, and bustled away.
Largo gazed after him indignantly before turning back to his companions. "Did he just dismiss me?"
"I'm sure he'll be back," Belle soothed.
Frodo was still watching the tweens in the corner. "Do you remember being that age, Largo?" he asked softly.
Largo glanced at the group. "Of course."
Frodo smiled at the tweens. Belle thought that it was a rather sad-looking smile. "Did you ever dance on a table?"
"Plenty of times," Largo scoffed. "Why, I even had my first kiss up there." He looked thoughtfully at the tweens and his temper seemed to soften. "Araminta Goold," he murmured. "Now there was a lass who could dance."
"One of the best in the Shire," Frodo agreed.
Largo looked at him in surprise. "You know her?"
"Oh, yes," Frodo returned. "My aunt Menegilda was a Goold also, and she'd often have her nieces and nephews on that side visiting Brandy Hall. Araminta loved it there."
"Did you ever dance with her?" Belle queried, feeling somewhat jealous of this 'Araminta'.
"Not very often," Frodo shrugged. "I was rather young at the time."
The aproned hobbit bustled over to them, still carrying the now-empty tray in his haste.
"Now then, I am right sorry about that, masters, mistress." He offered them a bow. "Danic Turnbarrel at your service. What might I be a-doin' for ye?"
"We will be needing two bedrooms, stabling for two ponies and a carriage, and supper for four hobbits." Largo answered.
"Two stables, two chambers, four suppers," the other hobbit repeated. "Would y' like rooms with or without parlours?"
"With, I'd say, but we would only need one."
The innkeeper nodded thoughtfully. "One b'tween the three o' ye?" At Largo's nod he smiled. "Right then, sir, we can be a-doing f'r ye. If'n you an' your party'uld jes' follo' me?"
"Actually, Mr Turnbarrel," Frodo interjected, "would it be possible to get three rooms?"
"Aye," the innkeeper began.
"Three?" Largo cut in, frowning at the Baggins. "What, you don't want to share a room with me?"
"I think that it would be more convenient for everyone if I had my own room," Frodo returned. He turned back to the innkeeper. "Three rooms, if you please, Mr Turnbarrel, and mine needn't be large or have a parlour, if that's more convenient."
The innkeeper smiled. "I think as we can do for y' too, sir. If'n you'll jes' follo' me."
-fjfjfjfjf-
The inn was built above ground, with a large common room in the centre and four long passages branching off it to form a narrow X and leaving wide courtyards on both the north and south sides. One of these branches led to the kitchen and private rooms of the innkeeper and his help, one was a stable and was closed off from the main rooms, and the other two were devoted to guest rooms, both single bedrooms and bedrooms with parlours. It was down one of these latter passages that Mr Turnbarrel led them, chattering the entire way, but he was most solicitous in his inquiries, so Belle decided that she could overlook that flaw.
The rooms he showed them to were quite comfortable-looking, Belle decided. Perhaps they were a touch on the small side, but then there was only one hobbit for each room, so technically they didn't need all the space. They were cosy though. Simple white curtains hung across the small round windows, braided brown rugs lay on the floor before the beds and hearths, and beautifully pieced quilts in browns and golds covered the bed. The brass andirons gleamed in their rack. There was no dust or grime anywhere and the hearths were well-stocked. She and Largo had separate rooms which were joined by a small, well-scrubbed parlour large enough for perhaps three hobbits, but not really four. Frodo was in the room next to hers and it was much the same as theirs in size and décor, except that it had no parlour. Belle had expressed dismay at this on his behalf, but Frodo had assured both her and the innkeeper several times that it was more than adequate.
After settling themselves in (during which they witnessed the ecstatic reunion of Master Turnbarrel and young Elmas, who were brothers and apparently hadn't seen each other in nearly three months) the trio wandered down to the common for a late supper. The rambunctious tweens were still happily making a ruckus in their corner, but a few of the older folk had now joined them. The argument by the fire was still going strong, with neither side willing to concede. Not the most atmospheric of places, Belle thought with a frown as she settled into her seat beside Frodo. She felt him immediately edge away from her.
Once their food arrived it quite made up for the noise. There was a cheddar soup to start, followed by slices of warm ham with a side of buttery mashed potatoes, new peas, warm crusty bread with more butter and apple jam, and a beautiful-looking blackberry cobbler. The meal-time chatter was light and kept to the food before them.
It was just as Frodo was finishing his last swallow of the ale that he'd had with his meal that a heavy-handed slap connected with his back and a loud voice behind them suddenly cried, "Hullo, Snap! Fancy meetin' you here!"
Belle jumped with surprise, and Frodo choked on the ale and began sputtering into his napkin as the thick brogue continued relentlessly, "I see y' still havna learnt your lesson about wearin' green."
"Reginard!" he gasped finally, twisting his head around. "Reginard Took, what in Middle-Earth are you doing here?" He coughed again.
Belle turned in her seat to see a tall red haired hobbit, likely in his fifties and somewhat slighter than most except for the nice paunch that he was developing in front, grinning at her Frodo like the infamous cat in the dairy barn.
"Och," the ginger hobbit smirked, "I'm jus' lookin' f'r the deputy mayor. Y' havna seen him, have y'? He's tall, has dark curls tha' fall in front o' his eyes constantly an' his gardener is always after him t' cut, thin as a pea-vine, an' I have heard tell tha' he's been seen in these parts in the company o' two Bracegirdles. Y' wouldna happen t' have met him by chance now, would y'?"
Belle bristled up at this description of Frodo, but to her surprise the hobbit in question began to laugh.
"As a matter of fact, I have," he returned. "I don't think that it was two miles from here. A dark-haired hobbit trying to entertain two Bracegirdles by telling them the most outlandish stories that you've ever heard, and to be honest, after everything that said deputy mayor saw on his travels I don't think that he considers himself 'tall' any longer."
The newcomer laughed. "It's good t' see y' didna lose your sense o' humour this week." He threw open his arms and wrapped them tightly around the slender Baggins. "How are y', Frodo?" he demanded.
"Feeling sandwiched between a pair of Tooks, thank you for asking," Frodo returned wryly.
"Och, it's good f'r y'," protested the other. "Breaks y' out o' tha' shell. Why, you're as squirmy as a teen!"
"Reginard, let go!" Frodo commanded. With a sigh and a show of reluctance the ginger did so. At once he turned his attention to the Bracegirdles.
"Your pardon, Mr Bracegirdle, Mistress," he said with a low bow. "I havna tried tha' on m' cousin f'r years, an' wondered if I could still catch him nappin'. M' humble apologies f'r m' poor manners." He offered them an apologetic bow.
"Think nothing of it," Largo assured him at once, anxious not to offend one of the wealthiest large families in the Shire, even if they weren't always the most respectable. "Now, I believe that Mr Baggins said you were a Took?"
A subtle enough inquiry; just a gentle nudge to say we haven't been formally introduced. The Took aquiesced graciously.
"Och, jus' where are m' manners t'day?" he smiled. "Reginard Took," he swept them a low bow. "At your service."
Largo rose and bowed as well. "Largo Bracegirdle at yours and your family's." Straightening up he added, gesturing to his sibling, "And this is my lovely sister, Belle."
Belle rose from her seat and offered a curtsey. "At your service," she murmured.
"An' I am at yours, Mistress Bracegirdle," the Took replied with another bow.
"Just Belle, if you please," she smiled. "I'm afraid that I'm not married yet."
"M' deepest apologies, Miss Belle," Reginard murmured. "I didna mean t' offend."
"Don't worry about it," she smiled. "Frodo did the same when we first met."
Reginard eyed his cousin speculatively. "Already on a first-name base, are we?" he queried.
Frodo straightened in his seat and gave the ginger hobbit a stern look who laughed. Belle found this slightly astonishing.
"Reginard is my second cousin once removed on my mother's side," Frodo explained. "He spent a few months in Brandy Hall when we were lads." With a pointed look at said cousin he added, "Why don't you join us, Spike?" he waved a hand at the seat across from him. "We were just about to enjoy a fine-looking blackberry cobbler, and I'm sure that we'll have enough to share."
"Of course we will," Largo agreed at once.
"A blackberry cobbler, eh?" Reginard raised an eyebrow at Frodo. "Y' wouldna be bribin' me now, would y'?"
Frodo smirked at this. "No, these berries are free and clear," he returned.
The Took gave him a triumphant look. "Well then, how could I possibly refuse?" he grinned.
The addition of Reginard to the little party proved to be a merry decision. The four enjoyed a leisurely half-hour; each one savouring the sweet cobbler, creamy wedges of cheese, and large, cool glasses of refreshing mint tea, all while Reginard kept up an amusing yet complementary commentary on their repast. It was only as they were finishing up that they all grew quiet, sitting back and surveying the result of their work with some satisfaction.
"Tha' was th' best dessert I've ever had this side o' Waymeet," Reginard announced, patting his belly to underline the words.
"Even better than Mina's crumb cake," Frodo agreed with a sigh of pleasure. The Bracegirdles exchanged a glance, both of them knowing which of the cousins had actually eaten most of Frodo's second piece of cobbler, but mutually deciding not to bring it up.
Belle gave a contented sigh of her own and brushed a few crumbs off of her skirt. "So what does bring you to Whitburrow, Mr Took?" she queried.
"Call me Reginard, please," the Took smiled. "All m' friends do."
His smile, while not as beautiful as Frodo's was certainly as infectious, and Belle easily found herself reciprocating in kind.
"All right then, Reginard," she returned. "What brings you to Whitburrow?"
"As I told y', I'm lookin' for th' deputy mayor."
"And clearly you've found him," Frodo cut in wryly. "So now the question remains; why were you looking for me?"
Reginard became sober for the first time since he'd found them. "I need y' t' come back wi' me."
Frodo frowned. "What's happened?" he asked quietly.
Reginard was silent for a few moments, agitatedly looking from the deputy mayor to the ceiling, and then back again. Finally with an apologetic look he sighed and said, "Gold diggers."
Frodo gave him a mildly puzzled look, which quickly became one of incredulity. "Already?" he asked.
Reginard gave him a sympathetic look, and Frodo's own became pained. "How?"
Reginard shrugged. "I dinna know, but this is the Shire." Frodo nodded in resigned agreement.
"Gold-diggers?" Belle asked, more to remind them that there were others at the table who might not be aware of what they were saying. Unfortunately Largo caught on much faster, being a barrister in his own right.
"Hobbits who found out about Aunt Belia's will and are trying to take advantage of it," he explained.
Reginard nodded, giving the pair a suspicious look "How d' y' think they might'a found out?"
"Just tell the green-grocer," Frodo muttered, "Everyone will know in two days."
"Aye," the Took grudgingly acknowledged.
Belle and Largo exchanged a glance. "Well, I didn't tell anyone," Belle said firmly.
"Neither did I," Largo added.
Frodo shook his head. "It really doesn't matter who said it. It could have been anyone at the reading. What matters is that the the tale is out now."
"Verra true," Reginard agreed.
Frodo gave the Took a tired look. "So, how soon do you need me there?"
"Well, let's see." Reginard began to count on his fingers. "We could have used your help Mersday, today it was bad enou' that they sent me t' find y', and if we aren't back by noon tomorre' I dinna know what they'll do."
"Noon?" Frodo repeated quietly. At his cousin's nod he began musing silently to himself.
Belle glanced rapidly between the pair in fascination. "What's so bad about gold diggers that he has to come back tomorrow?" she wondered.
"Well...it isna just them, Miss Belle," Reginard answered. "I'm afraid tha' a few o' your lovely relatives have been makin' a scene since just before tea on Hevensday, insistin' on seeing th' mayor at once. Between all their clamour and the problems wi' faulty deeds and contracts poor Will's been set back at least two weeks."
Frodo gave him a look of dismay. "So he won't be recovered now until the Free Fair?"
"Maybe even a little longer," Reginard shrugged.
"Confusticate it," Frodo muttered, rubbing at a sizeable crease between his eyebrows.
"Mind if I ask who these Bracegirdles are?" Largo queried.
"Och, there's a whole party o' them!" Reginard exclaimed. "The chief one though is a chap named Mungo."
Frodo stared at his cousin in dismay. "You jest," he murmured.
"Nae, I dinna," the Took returned.
"He's going to love seeing you come around the corner, Baggins," Largo muttered.
Frodo drew in a deep breath. "Well, that explains everything then. Poor Will. No offence meant to you, I'm sure," he added hastily, turning to Largo.
Largo brushed him away. "Normally I would take offence at that, but since it's Uncle Mungo..." he shook his head. "I don't envy you at all, Baggins."
"How early will we have to leave?" Belle wondered tiredly.
"Perhaps not as early as you might think, Miss Belle," Frodo returned. The others all turned to look at him. He was gazing thoughtfully at Reginard. "Did you come by carriage or pony?"
Reginard snorted. "Pony, o' course. Th' only way f'r a Took t' travel these days, accordin' t' a certain younger cousin o' yours."
Frodo's face lit with recognition. "I knew that I recognised one of the ponies in that stall. You rode Black, didn't you? He recognised me, or perhaps Strider."
"I did," Reginard grinned. "I knew tha' pony was the smartest in the Shire, an' told Pip as much, but he insisted tha' his Star was better. Thank y' f'r clearin' tha' up, cousin." So saying he rose from his stool and bowed deeply to Frodo.
"Sit back down," Frodo smirked. "I never said that he was the smartest, just that he recognised me. Now," he continued as Reginard resumed his seat, "as I said, I brought Strider with me, and after today I'm certain that he's eager for a good run. So, you and I could leave early tomorrow morning, perhaps around four, and then the Bracegirdles may follow at their leisure when they are ready. Then we needn't inconvienence anyone that early in the morning."
"Tha' sounds like a good idea, Snap," Reginard said approvingly. "We might even have a bit o' time t' spare f'r a nap."
"Which, of course, crotchety old hobbits like us need," Frodo returned dryly.
"After gettin' up at three I should think so!" Reginard smirked.
"So what are your plans now, Master Reginard?" Belle smiled. "Are you going to whisk Mr Baggins away to a private room and spend the night telling him all about the problems that you've been having?"
To Belle's surprise the Took laughed. "Thankfully not," he answered with a grin. "Tonight there's nae such thing as barrister duties, an' I fully intend t' enjoy the hospitality o' this inn. 'Let tomorrow's worry for tomorrow' is an old Took sayin', after all."
"Or at least an old saying of yours," Frodo returned dryly.
"Aye, or that," Reginard agreed merrily. "Mr Turnbarrel!" he called as the innkeeper swept by with an empty tray of mugs.
"Aye sir!" Mr Turnbarrel bellowed. "Jes' give me half a moment t' put these here down!" He bustled away to the kitchen.
Largo gave Reginard a disgruntled look. "Is he aware that he just ignored a Took?" he demanded.
"Och, I hope not," Reginard grinned. "There's nae point in him knowin'. Besides he could never take an order f'r three ales wi' his arms full like tha'."
"Three?" Largo wondered.
"Aye!" the Took enthused. "After all, it's Snap tha's buyin' th' first round. Might as well enjoy it. What will y' have, Miss Belle?"
The siblings both gave him a look of bewilderment.
"Snap is Frodo, correct?" Belle asked hesitantly.
"Aye."
"Then why is he buying the drinks?" Largo frowned.
"Because, Mr Bracegirdle," Frodo interrupted, frowning at his cousin, "he managed to startle me."
The siblings now looked at him in confusion and with a sigh he explained, "Years ago I wagered that he couldn't startle me. The loser had to buy a round for everyone at the table. I won the first five times."
"An' I've been tryin' to make up f'r tha' ever since," Reginard added, grinning at his cousin's discomfort.
Largo raised an eyebrow at the Baggins. "And this was how many years ago?"
The two cousins eyed each other, Frodo with a scowl and Reginard with a grin as if daring him to admit how long such foolishness had been going on.
"Thirty-three," Frodo admitted.
"Thirty-" Belle broke off incredulously.
"An' y've enjoyed ever minute o' it," Reginard laughed, poking Frodo in the ribs. The Baggins shot him a look of annoyance. "Dinna let his gruff looks fool y', Miss Belle. He's turned th' tables on me more times than I care t' admit an' always makes me pay th' penalty. So I think tha' he can pay up f'r once. T' be honest it isna often tha' I catch him nappin'."
"I suppose that the fact that you're supposed to be several miles away helped with that," Frodo returned just as Mr Turnbarrel approached them.
"Beggin' your pardon for that, good folk," he began. "Now then, what might I be a-doin' for ye?"
"Well, Frodo an' I will each have a mug o' your finest brew," Reginard answered. "What'll y' have, Mr Bracegirdle?"
Largo threw a glance at Frodo who shrugged and nodded slightly. "Make that three mugs," the barrister decided.
"An' f'r you, Miss Belle?" Reginard queried solicitously.
"Do you have any cordial, Mr Turnbarrel?" Belle asked.
"Aye, Mistress," the innkeeper assured her. "We've apple, raspberry, and elderflower."
"I'll have elderflower then," she decided. "You can't really go wrong with that one."
After taking their orders Mr Turnbarrel retreated to the kitchen, and Belle, with a rising curiosity, asked, "Reginard, do you mind if I ask you something that might be rather private?"
"Not a'tall, Miss Belle," the hobbit returned gaily. "What would y' like t' know?"
Several things. "When we first offered to share the blackberry cobbler with you, you asked Frodo if he was bribing you. Do you mind if I ask why?"
"Och! Now tha's a bit o' a tale, Miss Belle," Reginard laughed. "Y'see, when I was a lad, well, I must admit tha' I was one o' th' biggest scapegraces tha' th' Great Smials had seen in a long time. If y' name it I had probably done it, an' one day I managed t' get m'self into such a spectacular mess tha' I was sent away from th' Great Smials in a bit o' disgrace."
"Do you mind if I ask what you did?" Belle asked .
Reginard exchanged a quick glance with Frodo and then confessed, "One day I was feelin' particularly... frustrated wi' Thain Ferumbras an' even more so wi' his mother. Sooo...I apple-pied th' bed o' a rather important guest tha' she'd invited t' visit." To Belle's surprise a snort of amusement erupted from Frodo at this, and Reginard flashed him a devious smile. Belle just found herself blinking at the...anticlimacticness of the prank.
"That's all?" Largo wondered.
"I'm afraid so," Reginard returned. "But really, it wasna just tha' prank, but th' las' straw in a long line o' trouble I'd been makin'. Lalia was furious an' probably feared tha' I'd do somethin' more t' her guest if I stayed there (she always was one f'r keepin' up appearances), an' she refused t' have me within twenty miles o' th' Grea' Smials lest I bring shame upon th' good name o' Took."
"How can you shame something that's already known for mischievousness?" Frodo mocked lightly.
Reginard shrugged. "I know, but o' course even I didna dare tell Lalia tha' t' her face, an' m' parents certainly didna, for Lalia-" he hesitated and glanced sheepishly at the Bracegirdles, "well, y' didna cross her. Instead m' folk wisely sent me t' Buckland f'r a few months wi' hopes tha' she'd f'rget about m' prank. It seemed a logical enou' choice t' them a' th' time, f'r I had a good many relatives there; many o' the Brandybucks back then bein' a' least a quarter Took. Why, even Frodo here is a quarter Took."
"And proud of it," Frodo put in, straightening his shoulders as he did so.
"So they hoped tha' all those relatives would be able t' keep me out o' trouble. Th' trouble wi' tha' plan, though, was tha' th' Brandybucks believed tha' a lad should never have his own room until he's a' least a tween (or so it seemed a' th' time), an' Frodo here was nearly my age, so they put me in wi' him, his cousins, an'... wasna there one other, off an' on?" he asked, turning to Frodo. "Th' waverin' one, who y' could never get up a tree."
"Orgulas," Frodo supplied.
"Aye, that's it." He turned back to Belle. "He didna live in th' room, but he was Lacks' best mate, so abou' every... two t' three weeks, wouldna y' say?" to Frodo.
"Yes."
"Ever two t' three weeks he'd come an' spend a few nights wi' us. Made f'r a verra crowded room, I mus' say, three in their bed an' two in ours. Anyway, they picked th' wrong room t' put me in if they wanted t' keep me out o' trouble," here he began grinning and glancing slyly at his cousin, "f'r Snap here was as great a scamp as ever I was, an' after we called a truce he an' I were nearly inseparable. He showed me around th' place an' made sure tha' I was well cared f'r, an' in return I helped him wi' his chores an' looked out f'r him, an' we both taught each other our tricks. It didna take long either before we were known as 'Th' Terror o' Brandy Hall an' tha' Took'. Och, th' trouble we'd get into..." He smiled fondly at Frodo who was looking a little uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. "Y' see, Miss Belle, Snap here had a few lads who were always makin' trouble f'r him, an' he an' I saw t' it tha' anything they caused was given back t' them an' more so. T'was grea' fun too, tryin' t' find th' perfect prank tha' not only would counteract their teasin', but also wouldna be traced t' us." His smile became wistful, full of nostalgia. "We ran amuck all over tha' smial, causin' trouble, scrumping pies from th' kitchen, climbin' trees." He grinned at Belle. "He taugh' me t' climb a tree, an' I taugh' him how t' avoid dogs when scrumpin'."
"That hardly seems like a fair trade," Belle said, feeling a bit scandalised at all the mischief that the respectable Frodo Baggins had gotten into. She'd always thought that Aunt Lobelia had been exaggerating when she would gossip about how terrible Frodo had been as a child, especially considering Lotho's own...antics at that age, but now it seemed...
"Aye, perhaps I should've extracted a bit more payment f'r tha'. What do y' think, Snap?" Reginard turned toward his cousin with an impish grin.
Frodo gave him a withering look in return. "That was a long time ago, Reginard," he said a little sharply, "and both of us have long outgrown such childish antics."
Reginard actually looked a little abashed this time. "Verra true," he admitted.
"Which is why Frodo is paying for the drinks," Belle put in dryly. Largo snorted derisively at this.
"Also true..." Reginard agreed hesitantly.
"Speaking of drinks," Frodo observed.
The other hobbits looked up to see the innkeeper placing three large mugs and a glass of cordial on the table before them. "Right sorry about th' wait, good folk," the innkeeper said apologetically.
"Dinna worry abou' it," Reginard reassured him, taking one of the mugs. "T'wasna long, an' we enjoyed ourselves." He looked at the others for confirmation and Belle found herself nodding. Despite the disillusionment that she'd just received concerning her peerless Frodo she had enjoyed herself.
"The meal was excellent, Mr Turnbarrel, and your blackberry cobbler a delight to eat," Frodo smiled. "I haven't had one that delicious in many years. Thank you very much."
"Thankee, sir," the round hobbit smiled. "Always glad t' hear as some'un enjoyed their meal. That cobbler is one o' the missus' finest receipts, an' I'll be sure t' let her know as ye like it."
"Thank you," Frodo nodded.
The other hobbits all echoed their thanks for the meal and soon the innkeeper left them. As soon as he was gone Reginard, with a wink at Belle, lifted his mug into the air.
"A toast," he declared. "T' old friendships an' rivalries, t' wagers long ago made an' again renewed, t' marbles an' blackberries an' outwittin' old Maggot's dogs, an' t' six months o' fun. T'is a shame we had t' grow up."
"Scamp!" Frodo smirked, a look which Belle noted did not reach his eyes, but he dutifully raised his mug just the same. "To old times and tales, and to the Tooks and the Bagginses. May the memories - never fade." His smile grew more forced.
"Hear, hear!" Reginard cheered, lifting his mug high and taking a swig. Frodo did the same and, after a moment's hesitation Largo and Belle followed suite.
Two mugs slapped down on the counter simultaneously -Frodo's and Reginard's of course- and the two cousins looked at each other.
"Y' should get t' an inn more often, Snap," Reginard grinned.
"And have you trying to scare me half to death every time you see me? No, thank you," the Baggins returned. He turned to the Bracegirdles. "My apologies," he said. "The toast is another part of the tradition."
"Ah," Largo said knowingly. "That explains everything."
"Perhaps we should have another," Reginard said sheepishly.
"My thoughts exactly," Frodo agreed. He lifted his own mug. "To new friendships and gracious hospitality, to the forging of new memories and the renewal of the old, to Lobelia, may the memory of her never fade."
"Aye," agreed Reginard, again lifting his mug, but this time in the direction of the siblings. "T' th' Bracegirdles, fine family tha' they are. May th' hair on their toes never fall out." Largo grinned at this.
"Hear, hear!" he cheered, this time all of them raising their mugs and glass as one and each downing a bit more of their drink. When the drinking vessels went down again Reginard gave Belle's glass a speculative look.
"Y' dinna drink, Miss Belle?" he wondered.
She smiled apologetically and shook her head. "I'm afraid that there is something about the taste that I don't like. I've tried to get over it, but-" a shiver ran down her back at the memories of the taste, foul in her mouth, and she just shrugged instead of finishing her sentence.
"Aye," Reginard mused. "I've a couple o' aunts tha' are th' same way. T'is a rare thing though, t' be sure."
"I know," Belle said ruefully, "but I just can't make myself like it, so I just enjoy my cordial while everyone else has their beer." She self-consciously took a dainty sip of the drink and then looked up at him.
"You're changing the subject," she smiled. "You still haven't told me the significance of the blackberries. They were even in your toast."
"Oh, y' caught tha', did y'? I thought y' would." Reginard grinned. "I did say tha' it was a long tale."
"Made longer by coney-trails," Frodo muttered into his mug.
"Aye," Reginard nodded. "So, as I was sayin', I stayed in Brandy Hall f'r nigh six months, an' durin' tha' time Frodo an' I became friends an' did everything together, especially if it involved makin' trouble f'r Derlic an' Company. So naturally there were a few times tha' we'd get caught at our mischief. Luckily Snap here knew the favourite treats o' nigh everyone in the smial, an' one o' the chief ones was blackberries, so we'd often bake blackberry tarts for those who caught us, in return for their silence. Frodo was a grea' favourite among th' servants anyway, especially in th' kitchen, an' since Derlic had been tormentin' Frodo almost since he first came t' Brandy Hall most folk were willin' t' let any tricks they happened t' see slide t' th' wayside. If a blackberry tart or two helped wi' this, well... we werena opposed t' helpin' along a bit o' forgetfulness, or thankin' them f'r doin' so."
Belle felt as if her eyebrows had climbed into the roots of her hair and she couldn't coax them back down. She looked over at Frodo, who appeared to be conducting an in-depth study of the grain of the table.
"Is it true?" she wondered.
Frodo looked up at her with a steely glint in his eye. "Why would my cousin lie?" he asked coolly. "Yes, Miss Belle. It is true. Does that disappoint you?"
She felt her eyebrows coming back down to rescue her. "Why should it disappoint me, Mr Baggins?" she shot back.
There was a knowing gleam in his eye, but he just shrugged carelessly.
"Well, we were young an' fairly irresponsible a' th' time," Reginard interjected hastily. "I remember tha' m' father was furious when he found out. I couldna sit down f'r a week!"
"And you?" Belle wondered, still staring down the Baggins.
Frodo's expression was immobile. "My uncle Rorimac punished me, and the next time that Bilb o came I received a lengthy lecture on the subject as well. It was more enough to stop the bribery."
Largo blinked. "You don't honey-coat your actions, do you, Baggins?"
Frodo shrugged again.
"Anyway, tha's th' tale o' th' blackberries," Reginard grinned. "A rather sordid one, wouldna y' say?"
Belle laughed. "At least you learned your lesson," she teased.
"Well, it's hard not t' when y' canna sit down after th' lesson," he returned, laughing as well.
Frodo began to smirk. "I just wish that you could have stayed long enough to learn to swim."
Belle gaped at this suggestion and Reginard shuddered.
"Thank goodness I didna," he muttered. "I was sorry t' leave, Snap, but I certainly wasna sorry t' miss tha'."
"Pippin learned without drowning."
"Pippin is more o' a tûk in th' old sense than I am," Reginard shot back.
"He certainly is," Frodo agreed, the mischievous twinkle growing in his eyes. "Gandalf often called him 'fool of a took', and I wouldn't be surprised at all if sometimes he was mentally spelling it the old way, but swimming doesn't fall in that category."
"Says the hobbit who could swim before he learned to ride," Reginard shot back playfully.
Frodo glared mockingly at him. "O, come, Spike, that's really not fair. I didn't learn to ride for ages, and you know it."
"Tha' isna my problem," returned the Took, taking a careless swig of his ale.
"That reminds me," Belle cut in suddenly. "Do you mind if I ask another highly personal question?"
"Go ahead," Reginard shrugged. "I canna promise tha' we'll answer it, but you're welcome t' ask."
Belle levelled a look at Frodo. "So that's where you got it," she said knowingly.
Frodo glanced at her. "Actually, he got that from me."
Belle huffed as if she were angry. "Of course he did." She looked at Reginard. "Why do you call Frodo 'Snap'?"
"Och! Y' would ask tha', Miss Belle," Reginard laughed. He glanced at Frodo. "D'y' mind?"
Frodo shook his head, smiling a little, and then took a drink. Reginard turned back to Belle. "Let's see, well, we'll start wi' th' fact tha' I was abou' sixteen an' he was seventeen when this happened. I had just arrived at Brandy Hall tha' afternoon, an' up until this point hadna really seen anyone my age, being stuck in the Master's study wi' my father. T'was evendim, supper was over, an' my father was still speakin' t' th' Master on some matter 'r other tha' had naught t' do wi' me, so I took t' explorin' abou' th' passages. Well, I'd just wandered by one o' th' parlours when I saw a tall lad abou' my age, brown above an' brown below, wearin' a shirt as bright an' green as a new snap-pea in th' middle. He didna notice me, so I called out t' him, but since I didna know his name I just said, 'Hullo, Snap!'" He paused and smirked at his cousin. "He nearly jumped outta his skin at tha' an' spun around lookin' f'r me, but I just gave him a smile an' went on m' way."
"Why-"
"T' be honest, I dinna even know, Miss Belle," he confessed. "It jus' seemed t' fit."
"And I was left standing there wondering who the red-haired lad was, what he was doing in Brandy Hall, and why in Middle-Earth he was calling me 'Snap'," Frodo laughed. "I had my questions answered a little while later when my room mates burst into our room gleefully announcing that he would be sleeping in my bed!"
"Oh, Frodo," Belle said in dismay at the same time that Largo laughed and said, "I'll wager you didn't appreciate that too much, eh Baggins?"
Frodo laughed again, and Belle felt cheered just to hear the sound. He had an infectious, very musical laugh which she had the feeling could brighten the entire world if only he'd let it loose more often.
"Well, Mr Bracegirdle, I must confess that somehow I was cured of making idle wagers a long time ago." He gave his cousin a meaningful look and Reginard laughed back. "The truth of the matter is though, you would lose, for once the initial shock wore off he and I quickly became good friends."
"Aye, united together against a common enemy," Reginard quipped.
"Enemy?" Belle's ears pricked. "The room mates?"
"Nae, this one was a dangerous fellow, just waitin t' sink his bloody teeth int' you an' shake y' t' pieces."
Belle's were wide with shock. "Who?" she gasped.
"Boredom!" Reginard's declaration was loud enough that a few of the hobbits who were gathered around the fireplace turned and stared at them, and he laughed for a few minutes before wiping his eyes. "In truth, Miss Belle, we b'came nearly inseparable an' did everythin' t'gether, be it chores or scrumpin' or cleanin' th' neighbour's barn, or settin' up th' perfect prank, or even mindin' Merry."
Belle shook her head, laughing. "So 'Snap' is actually short for 'snap-pea'?"
Reginard gave her a sheepish grin. "Aye."
Largo snorted with laughter into his ale. "That's priceless," he gasped. "What about Spike?"
Frodo's eyebrows rose and he looked at Reginard quizzically, who shrugged and nodded.
"Well," Frodo began. "As you know, Reginard was a bit of a trouble-maker during his time at Brandy Hall." He winked at Belle as the Took bristled up in mock-indignation. "Before his first week there was over he'd managed to give half the lads there nicknames."
Reginard groaned and mumbled into his cup.
Frodo glanced over at him. "He was a terrible prankster, always causing trouble-"
"You were just as bad!" Reginard cut in.
"-and especially for one particular lass."
"A lass!" Reginard bolted upright, his mug slapping down on the table with a loud thump and sloshing ale all over.
Frodo looked at him with surprise. "You never knew?"
"Y' mean tha' month o' humiliation was because o' some lass? An' y' never tol' me?!" Reginard appeared to be dumbfounded.
Frodo smirked at him. "She could keep a secret better than I thought," he observed mildly.
"What happened?" Belle interrupted, trying to keep from laughing at the pair's antics.
"Well, Reginard continued to hound her, as he did everyone, and eventually this particular lass had enough. So when she found him napping under a tree one afternoon she decided that revenge would be the best meal to serve, and she mixed together some pomade and glue" Belle began grinning "and used it form his hair into sharp spikes all over his head, and let it dry, even going so far as to stay by his side and shoo away any insects that might wake him up." Frodo was chuckling at the memory.
"Well, tha' rules out Laurel, then," the Took muttered.
"She must have been gone by the time he woke up, for poor Reginard didn't even realise that anything was wrong until he came in for tea and found everyone staring at him."
"An' laughin'," Reginard put in somewhat resentfully. "T'was Amethyst tha' finally took pity on me an' showed me t' a mirror."
Frodo was having difficultly containing his mirth enough so that he could speak. "She must have used the strongest glue in the Shire too, for even after several washes it still wouldn't come out."
"That's awful," Belle gasped, struggling not to laugh. "How long did it take?"
"It didna," Reginard mumbled. "Cousin Verbena finally had t' shave m' head, an' tha's when th' name started to go around. Why they picked 'Spike' I'll never know." He glanced at Frodo. "It took a while t' convince ever'one tha' m' name was Reginard again, but eventually m' hair grew back in an' ever'one f'rgot it."
"All except me," Frodo put in. "I decided from the very first that if he was going to call me a snap-pea then I would find something equally unsettling for him."
"So you kept it," Belle confirmed.
"I certainly did," Frodo answered matter-of-factly. "We didn't let anyone else call him that, but I never let up on him, and eventually the meanings behind our private names slipped to the background and Spike and Snap just became our private joke."
"Aye, a memory o' th' best autumn, winter and spring o' m' life," Reginard agreed. He nursed his mug of ale quietly for a moment, and Frodo did the same, slowly sipping the dark brew.
After a quiet sip or two Reginard sighed. "I'd still like t' know who tha' lass was, though." He eyed his cousin suspiciously. "Y' seem t' know an awful lot abou' this."
"I saw her keeping guard," Frodo admitted. Reginard's eyes flew open in surprise.
"You what?" he exclaimed. "An' y' didna tell me?!"
"I never got close enough to realise what she'd done until tea," Frodo protested. "Besides, that would have been betraying the confidence a lass," he added matter-of-factly.
"Aye," Reginard grudgingly agreed.
"You don't do that?" Belle queried.
"We tried not to," Frodo answered.
"Aye, but there were exceptions, Snap," protested his cousin.
"True," Frodo conceded, but then began smirking again. "But you did deserve it."
"Hmph."
"And it was a prank worth playing." Frodo reached for his mug.
Here the corners of Reginard's mouth began to twitch. "Aye."
Frodo took a drink of ale. "And I figured that you would throw me into the duck pond if you ever figured out where the receipt came from," he told the depths of his cup.
"True, I proba - wait, y' what?!" Reginard's mug and elbows thumped down on the table again and he leaned forward, staring at Frodo in shock. Frodo was blushing slightly and laughing; Largo was loudly guffawing. "Tha' was YOU?!"
Frodo held up his hands. "I just gave her the receipt; I thought that she was going after Derlic!"
"Why would she be doing tha'?" Reginard demanded.
Frodo's flush deepened. "He was...making himself a nuisance around that time."
"Was he ever not a nuisance?" Reginard rolled his eyes.
"Not that year," Frodo agreed.
Reginard stared at Frodo as if he was trying to read his cousin's mind. "It was Laurel, wasna it," he demanded.
"No," Frodo said simply, taking another sip of ale.
"Then who was it?"
Frodo smiled. "Sorry, Reginard, but I'm going to keep her confidence even now."
The aggrieved hobbit eyed his older cousin's thin frame. "Maybe I should toss y' in a duck pond. There's bound t' be one at leas' in this village."
"After all this time?!"
Largo was laughing so hard that he could barely breathe.
"Who's Laurel?" Belle wondered.
"A lass who worked in th' kitchen a' Brandy Hall," Reginard answered, never taking his eyes off of Frodo. "She an' Frodo were th' same age, an' she was his first friend in Buckland. She didna like me from th' minute she firs' laid eyes on me."
"That's only because you were new," Frodo said. "Once you two got to know each other you got along very well."
"Aye, after I became 'Spike'," Reginard returned dryly.
"Which she never called you," Frodo reminded him.
Reginard pursed his lips and took another drink of ale.
"Is there a rule about who buys the second round?" Largo queried.
"Nae," Reginard answered, "but I think it's abou' time t' replenish this one." He tipped his mug backward to drain it.
"Give it here, then," Largo held out his hand for the mug. "I'll pay for the next round. Do you want any more, Belle, Frodo?"
Both hobbits handed over their drinking vessels and Largo headed for the counter. As he left Belle leaned across the table and said, "So, do you have any more tales about Buckland?"
Reginard beamed in response and Frodo groaned softly. "Well, there was this one time,"
Several mugs later...
"Y' know, Snap, y' should sing a song for us," Reginard announced rather loudly. "Y' dinna sing any longerrr, but I rrrememberrr." He trilled out his 'r's and then hiccuped. Turning to Belle he added, "He used t' have to have the nices' voice."
Frodo, who had only had about three and a half ales, grimaced a smile at him. "I think you mean Pippin," he returned.
"Nae!" Reginard exclaimed. "Pi-ippin wasna up in an apple tree carrrolin' like a larrrk when Merrrrry was," he paused and scratched his head, as if he was trying to remember what Merry was. "Tha' high!" he finished triumphantly, holding his hand about eight inches from the ground.
Frodo sighed. "True, but my voice has changed quite a bit since then, Reginard. Some days I can't carry a tune even if you were to hand it to me in a water bucket. Pippin, on the other hand, still can sing, and very well too."
"I've heard you sing this week, and it was beautiful," Belle put in a bit smugly. "You have a very good voice."
Frodo grimaced. "You caught me on one of my good days," he mumbled into his mug.
"Jus' shing abou' roadsss," Largo slurred. "The road ghoes ever on and on and on and on and on and on and-"
"Come on Snap!" Reginard exclaimed, getting louder again and standing up in his agitation. "Y' dinna wan' t' dissspoint everrrr'one now, do y'? He looked around at the crowd of hobbits who were growing interested in the spectacle. "Y' wan' t' hearrrr him sing now, dinna ye?"
"Aye!" a few hobbits cheered.
Frodo's cheeks were nearly scarlet. "Reginard, sit down!" he hissed. "I don't wish to sing!"
"Why not?" the tipsy hobbit bellowed. "Y' know th' funniest songs. Like th' one 'bout SSSSKKKIIIINNN! that' y' sang!" Reginard drew out the 'skin' as if he were imitating something in the song.
"I was seventeen!" Frodo protested.
"You sang a song about skin?" Belle frowned at Frodo.
"Merry was a faunt at the time and loved it. That's the only reason," Frodo returned. Looking back at his cousin he added, "Reg, I think that you should put the mug away. We have to get up early tomorrow after all."
"Dinna call m' tha'," the Took exclaimed. "I'm RRRReginarrrrrd! RRReginarrrd Took o' th' Grrrreat Smialssss!"
"And drunk as a lord," Frodo put in.
"C'mon, master, give us a song!" one of the bystanders coaxed, and soon the entire crowd had taken up the chant.
Frodo glared at his cousin. Finally he growled, "O, very well! What do you want to hear?"
"Something funny!" someone suggested. This was immediately widely approved by the rest of the crowd.
"SSSomethin' from your trrravelssss," Reginard added. Frodo glowered at him again, a sight that would have made both Bracegirdles tremble, but the Took just grinned drunkenly back in challenge as the crowd took up this idea as well.
"C'mon, SSSnap," Reginard coaxed. "Y' dinna want t' dissssppoint everrrr'one, do y'?"
Frodo appeared to be plotting the untimely demise of his younger second cousin for a few brief moments as his fingers strayed to his chest. Then, tightly gripping his white jewel, he rose stiffly and climbed up on the bench so that he was only head and shoulders taller than everyone else. Forcibly smoothing away his glower he said, "All right, then. You may not find this amusing, but I do." With that he began to sing:
"Troll sat alone on his seat of stone,
And munched and mumbled a bare old bone;
For many a year he had gnawed it near,
For meat was hard to come by,
Done by! Gum by!
In a cave in the hills he dwelt alone,
And meat was hard to come by.
Up came Tom with his big boots on.
Said he to Troll: "Pray, what is yon?
For it looks like the shin o' my uncle Tim,
As should be a-lyin' in graveyard.
Caveyard! Paveyard!
This many a year has Tim been gone,
And I thought he was lyin' in graveyard." "
Frodo was the picture of offended indignation as he sang the verse, but then his whole demeanour changed. His face took on a menacing smirk and he hunched over a little, his fingers curling inward like claws. His voice growled out the tune.
" "My lad," said Troll, "This bone I stole.
But what be bones that lie in a hole?
Thy nuncle was dead as a lump o' lead,
Afore I found his shinbone.
Tinbone! Thinbone!
He can spare a share for a poor old troll,
For he don't need his shinbone." "
And so the song went on, Frodo in turn being the outraged Tom, the menacing troll, or simply the narrator. It was a good song, and Belle, who knew the tune quite well, was tapping her foot under the table as Tom argued over the importance of the bone and then as he tried to escape the ravenous troll. She had to wonder though; why did Frodo grow so pale and clutch at his jewel as he sang?
"But harder than stone is the flesh and bone
Of a troll that sits in the hills alone.
As well set your boot to the mountain's root,
For the seat of a troll don't feel it.
Peel it! Heal it!
Old Troll laughed when he heard Tom groan,
And he knew his toes could feel it.
Tom's leg is game, since home he came,
And his bootless foot is lasting lame;
But Troll don't care, and he's still there
With bone he boned from its owner.
Doner! Boner!
Troll's old seat is still the same,
And the bone he boned from it's owner!"
When the song was finished he offered them a bow, and the crowd roared their approval. Hobbits are nothing if not loud when it comes to making their pleasure known, especially drunken hobbits. Several of them began to clamour for it to be sung again, and it looked as if Frodo would decline the invitation. Then Reginard climbed up on the table, grabbing his cousin's arm in the process, and dragged him up beside him.
"Come on, SSSSSnap," he urged drunkenly, pressing a mug into Frodo's hand. In the corner a lone fiddle struck up the tune again and Reginard began trying to sing along, his foot tapping to its own beat. Frodo glowered at the irrepressible Took, but dutifully took a drink of ale and began the song again, Reginard singing along just one step behind him. The group all found this tremendously funny and many of them tried to join in, mangling the words terribly in the process. The only part that they were able to get was the 'caveyard, paveyard, doner, boner' bit, and even then many of them seemed to be making up their own rhymes. Belle found herself laughing harder than she had in a long time, since she was a tween in fact.
When the song was over this time Frodo struck up a tune about a hobbit who was so drunk once that he kept seeing things that weren't there all week. This seemed to be a very familiar one, and several hobbits at once began clambering up on the table to join the cousins in leading it. When they were all well into the thick of the song Frodo slipped silently down and rejoined Belle at her (currently private) table.
"Well done," she smiled. "I haven't laughed that hard in years."
Frodo offered her a smirk, but Belle saw at once that his heart wasn't in it. "Yes, it was rather good, wasn't it? They all seemed to enjoy it at least." He fingered the jewel on his breast.
"Didn't you?" She already knew the answer.
A pause. "Yes." He was lying, and they both knew it.
She eyed him sharply. "That tune seemed strangely familiar for a song from foreign parts," she murmured.
Now Frodo's smirk appeared to be a little more genuine. "They only said that it had to be funny, and I had to have heard it during my travels. They never specified who the singer had to be."
The smirk, the light in his eyes, the ease that he'd begun with... "Let me guess. Sam?" she asked dryly.
"Of course," Frodo returned. "We'd just finished lunch in the Trollshaws, where my cousin Bilbo met the three trolls; you remember my telling you about that, don't you?"
"Certainly."
"All of us were feeling a bit more cheerful that day, and so we thought that we might have a song. Sam pulled that one out of his back pocket. It certainly fit the atmosphere nicely."
"It seemed to me a rather menacing song," Belle observed. "After all, the troll did want to eat poor Tom."
"Very true," Frodo agreed quietly. "And the trolls wished to eat Bilbo and the dwarves as well, and just like in the song the sun came up and turned the trolls into stone."
Belle frowned. "You are aware of how ridiculous that sounds, aren't you?" she asked hesitantly.
"Utterly preposterous to one who knows nothing about trolls," Frodo answered. "I know that Pippin never quite believed in them until he actually saw the stone ones."
"They could have been random statues like you were talking about earlier," Belle argued. During the carriage ride Frodo had told her about the strange Gondorian penchant for carving statues to commemorate great deeds and had described passing between the Argonath.
"Three of them?" Frodo challenged. "All in the same glade? No, Miss Belle," he continued in a softer tone. "You did not see them. Trolls don't make good subject matter for statues under the best of circumstances, and the looks on these three's faces were particularly ugly. Time hasn't worn away that expression very much yet. I saw greed foremost, followed by surprise, a little pain, malice, avarice, revenge, and beneath it all the vaguest blossoming of comprehension that they had just been tricked. I know of no artisan who could capture such an expression so thoroughly, and even if there were such a one I highly doubt that he would leave out the cauldron."
"Perhaps so," Belle agreed. "As you said, I didn't see it."
The pair sat silently for a few moments watching the crowd as Reginard tried to dance with one of the others on the table - who appeared to be Largo. Then Frodo sighed.
"Forgive me, Miss Belle, but I must retire for the night. Three o' clock is going to come terribly early for some of us, I fear."
"I understand completely," Belle nodded sympathetically. "In fact, I was thinking about retiring myself. It seems terribly late."
Frodo checked his pocketwatch. "Just past eleven," he confirmed. He rose and bowed to her. "In absence of your brother may I see you to your room, Miss Bracegirdle?"
Belle laughed. "Certainly, Mr Baggins," she agreed.
-jfjfjfjfjfj-
The walk back to the room was silent, and Belle had to wonder if the sharp-eared Baggins had a headache after all the clamour of the common room. At her door he merely bade her his formal 'goodnight' (I wish that you sleep well and deeply, and may no foul dreams trouble you). She wished him the same and inwardly wished that he would at least smile at her. Instead he turned away, head erect, and retreated to his own room. With a wistful sigh she entered her own room and prepared for bed.
Belle did sleep well, and spent the night dreaming of bright-eyed elves and kingly men watching with approval as Frodo Baggins bested a troll with nothing but a mere song. Frodo, meanwhile, one room over, tossed fitfully all night as he dreamt of cows ridden by shadowy black figures and a cat fiddling away as Pippin danced with a troll, and, not the Man in the Moon, but a bright gold Ring quaffed ale and laughed mockingly at the world.
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Translations: Apple-pie bed - (to shamelessly steal from Dreamflower02) what a shortsheeted bed in which a sheet is folded back on itself halfway down as a practical joke so that the victim cannot get into it is called in the UK.
receipt - old word for recipe
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Song credits (how I've been waiting for a chapter with these!):
'Gambol and totter' is The Cat and the Moon by the Lord of the Rings Musical,
Troll and Tom is of course Tolkien's own song,
and believe it or not, Skin is a Patch-the-Pirate song that I always ham up when I sing it, and thought that it would amuse a two year old. If you'd like to hear it this is the link: www. majestytunes. com slashp-27-the-calliope-caper. aspx
A/N: My deepest apologies to everyone who reads this story. This chapter became a behemoth to write, and a plot behemoth for an entirely different story (ratherunhelpfully) attacked in the midst of my struggles and is insisting that it be written down! Hopefully the next chapter will flow much better, but at the moment I rather doubt it. :(
OH! To everyone that corrected me on Frodo's age as being twelve rather than eleven when his parents died I did some research, and you are all right, at least in that Bingo, Frodo's prototype, was in fact twelve. So with a grimace I must say that 'my Shire' timeline is a bit AU from Tolkien's. (This discovery was in fact one of those reasons that this chapter took so long to finish.) I'm afraid that it will remain that way, for I have wrestled with this issue for a while and cannot see a way to change it without giving this story (not to mention my whole fanon) a major overhaul. My apologies and thanks to everyone who corrected me on that.