Chapter Nine

"Why must I go, Momma?” Pippin whined, sitting in the steaming bathtub.
This time he was definitely trying to get out of doing something. “I won’t know anyone there!”

“Gracious me, Pippin, you’ll know your sisters.” Eglantine reached for a small pail nearby, “And Merry is going to be there, too.” She scooped some water and poured it over his head. “You said yourself that you met cousin Frodo already. What are you fearing, son?” Eglantine rubbed the bar of soap to the washcloth and handed it to Pippin.

“I’m not fearing anything,” Pippin said, taking the washcloth and began to wash.

Eglantine busied herself washing clothes in another tub not too far away. “Pippin, you say you won’t know anyone there--perhaps it’s time to be more social. Its true I’m a bit surprised cousin Frodo invited someone so young to his birthday party with a group of teens and tweens. Maybe he’ll be inviting a nice little lass to keep you company all evening.” Pippin threw his mother a look of complete panic at the though of Frodo pairing him up with...a girl! When Pippin was done washing himself Eglantine came over and sat down on a small stool to wash Pippin’s hair. “Pippin,” she laughed as she massaged the soap into his hair, “you will have nothing to worry about. Your sisters will look after you.”

There she goes on about those wretched sisters again! Pippin dipped himself into the water to rinse off and came up sputtering. He stood in the tub dripping as his mother was ready with a large towel to wrap him in. She helped him out of the tub and left him to finish drying off and get dressed.

Pippin sat miserably in a chair. He was wrapped in the large towel letting his hair drip as he became lost in his thoughts. He didn’t tell her of his and Merry’s last ‘conversation‘--and tomato battle, or how Merry pretty much threw him out of the room. Merry wouldn’t want to talk to him at the party--no one would, and his sisters would avoid him like a disease. I’m doomed, he thought as he slowly got dressed.

The sun was still high in the sky, though winding down towards the horizon. It was a long ride to Hobbiton from Whitwell. Pearl drove the cart through Tuckborough and over the northern lanes of Great Smials. When they came to a stop, Pippin jumped out the back and stretched his legs. He was dressed in his fine dark blue trousers, crisp white shirt, and dark blue waistcoat to match.

Merry slid out as well. He barely spoke the entire ride, and was in no mood to jest. He wore brown trousers and duck tailed coat, and a pale yellow shirt. The girls wore party dresses in various colors of yellow, pink, and green.

Pearl was the first to walk up to the round green door and knocked. The wait wasn’t long as Frodo himself met his guests at the door. The door opened up into a warm and well-lit hallway as he greeted his guests. “Pearl!” Frodo leaned forward and kissed her cheek, “All of you--welcome! Please come in.” The gracious host bowed to the others. “We will begin the birthday supper shortly; please feel free to walk around inside or in the garden until then.” Frodo took their cloaks and hung them on the various pegs that lined the hallway. “I’m happy all of you made it--and you too, Pippin!”

Pippin only smiled politely--as his mother instructed him. He wanted to bolt.

Frodo showed them to the parlor where all the other guests were gathered and seated. Merry already made his way over to where the other lads were socializing. Pearl, Pim, and Pervinca sat with the other girls and soon all were fussing over each other’s dresses and gossiping about the latest couples.

Pippin was observing it all with great disgust. Why couldn’t mother let me stay home? I see no one else here that is my age! He settled himself in the chair next to the bookcase and glared at all the silliness. He chewed his fingernails for entertainment.

After what seemed forever to Pippin, Frodo came into the parlor and announced supper. Immediately everyone migrated into the dining area. Platters were laden full of meats, vegetables, and various breads and cheese. Several casks of ale sat on tables as well. The entire spread appeared a feast to Pippin.

Pippin heard someone yelling, “Three cheers for Frodo and Bilbo!” The guests answered, “Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray! Happy birthday, Frodo! Happy birthday, Bilbo!” Then the crowd cheered. Looking around the table, Pippin noticed the older hobbit sitting at the far end. He’d met Bilbo only once before and soon discovered the old hobbit was full of tales from his notorious adventure long ago. The elder hobbit caught Pippin’s eye and smiled.

Pippin sat at the board with the tweens and teens. He ate his fill and then some, for a young hobbit. Mugs of ale were being passed around the table. Pippin kept passing them down until the guest on each side of him were not waiting for another mug, but were busy conversing with other guests. With no one else to pass it to, Pippin looked around to see if anyone was waiting for a mug. All the other guests were engaged in conversations of their own. He tapped on the arm of the tween seated next to him with no result. He looked to see what his sisters might say. None of his sisters took notice of him either. No one observed the young boy holding a mug of ale. Pippin thought it a waste to let it sit, so without a second thought...bottoms up!

By the time Pippin finished eating and drinking, he began to feel that this little party wasn’t so bad after all and decided that another mug of ale might help cheer him even more.

After supper, Frodo’s guests got up and retired to the outer room again. This time, someone called for a song. Pippin watched as a teen-aged hobbit got up--it was Sam, and he recited poetry. Pippin laughed to himself, watching Sam with his hands behind his back and reciting poetry with all the earnestness in the Shire. Pippin thought his poetry was good--it made him and everyone laugh. After the recital everyone applauded his humorous rhyme. Sam blushed and sat down.

Next, a young lass by the name of Laurel Goodbody got up and sang a song that reeked of star-crossed love. Pippin gagged.

For some reason unbeknownst to Pippin, he heard someone shout his name. “Hey, Pippin! Give us a song!” Pippin knew they were only picking him because he was the youngest at the party and stuck out like a sore thumb. “Yes, Pippin! Sing for us, little laddie!”

Little Laddie! He saw Merry looking at him and he felt his sisters eyes boring into his head. It was contempt...and ale...that made Pippin get up and sing a song. He and Merry wrote the words up not too long ago. The song was about a boy who had three overbearing sisters. He decided to enjoy this, so he threw in a bit of a jig for fun and laughs.

“There once was a boy

who had three sisters

all older, and bolder

and scared off the misters.

They took him to task

all day and all night

all screaming earsplitting

and scaring with fright.

Their hair was like ox tail

their ears like a pig,

their teeth were as rabbits’,

as they jiggedy jigged!...”

As he sang, Pippin garnered all sorts of laugher. Out of the corner of his eye though, Pippin could see Merry smirking. Pippin was pleased with himself; on and on he went until he saw Pearl’s eyes. If looks were daggers! He brought the song to a quick end and sat down.

“It’s a good thing you’re a little laddie,” said one teen, “you’ve just scattered all the lasses in my direction!”

“What lasses!” Another laughed back, “We don’t see any lasses running in your direction, Freddie!”

Eventually, the laughter died down and everyone returned to talking and prattle. Pippin got up and strolled about. He filled his mug....again. There was that older fellow, Bilbo, sitting at a desk. Pippin walked over to cure more possible boredom. The older hobbit looked down at Pippin from his stool, “You’re a Took, aren’t you, lad?”

“Peregrin Took,” Pippin replied, “though most everyone just calls me Pippin.” He sipped his mug.

“Ah yes! Paladin‘s boy! How old are you now, Pippin?” It had been a few years since he last seen the boy.

Pippin looked around, “Twelve, sir.”

“You may call me Bilbo, Pippin.” Bilbo did a double-take and winked, “You don’t look a day over thirteen.”

“I’m quite short for my age.”

Bilbo laughed, “I’ll wager you are!”

Pippin smiled in spite of himself. Old Bilbo had him figured out.

“What are you writing...Bilbo?” Pippin was brought up to address his elders by a “mister” or “miss” title, but since he really liked this old hobbit, he humored him.

“It’s a book, though I haven’t quite decided on a title yet, but right now, I call it ‘There And Back Again’.”

Pippin’s curiosity piqued, “What’s it about?”

Bilbo, always ready to tell his tales, began with his 50th birthday party and his very, very bad cold...