Chapter Six: The Ivy Bush

After a sorrowful farewell to the Broadbelts—and after prying Daisy’s arms from around Merry’s neck—the hobbits made their way as swiftly as possible toward Bywater. After about an hour of traveling, they came upon the Bywater Road, and traveled on it for another hour before stopping for lunch. Merry was uncharacteristically quiet throughout the meal, and Frodo knew that he was sad about leaving Daisy. Sam seemed to sense that as well and they both made an effort to cheer up the youngest hobbit. Merry’s natural high-spirits soon got the better of him, and by the time they set off again, he was his usual cheerful self.

Their trip to Bywater was, much to their disappointment, almost completely uneventful and rather boring. Of course, there was a minor incident that involved Merry and a large—and rather deep—mud puddle, but a quick rinse in a nearby stream fixed that. The hobbits made camp at sundown by the side of the road and started off again at first light.

Finally, after walking half of the next day, they arrived in Bywater. It was a typical hobbit town—very much like Hobbiton, but it had two Inns: one in the middle of town, and one on the edge of it by the road. The Green Dragon was the largest and most popular, and The Ivy Bush was smaller and quieter. All three lads had been to Bywater several times, and knew that The Green Dragon was likely to be quite crowded and noisy.

After a brief discussion on the matter, they decided upon The Ivy Bush. All three of them preferred it when given the choice, and the Innkeeper, Mungo Sandybanks, was quite a nice fellow.

Frodo led the way inside and made his way to the counter. "Excuse me?" he called politely.

A moment later, a thickset hobbit with wild brown curls and cheery red cheeks appeared over the counter.

"Hullo, Mr. Sandybanks!" Frodo greeted him cheerfully.

"Oh, good evenin’ young Frodo!" Mungo returned, grinning fondly as he recognized Bilbo’s nephew (who was rather a favorite of his). "Haven’t seen you for a while." He looked around expectantly. "And where might your Uncle be?"

"He’s given permission for my friends and I to come here alone," Frodo explained. "But he wanted me to ask you how Mrs. Sandybanks and Miss Adamanta are doing?"

Mungo grinned broadly. "They’re doin’ just find, thank you kindly for askin’, and your Uncle for thinkin’ of it. Addie is comin’ nigh on her 11th birthday now. It’s August 21st – next week."

"Wonderful! Perhaps we’ll get to visit her while we’re here and wish her a happy birthday."

"Aye, I hope so—she’d like nothin’ better, I’m sure. But now, what can I do for you tonight?"

"Beds for three, if you please—"

"And some lunch!" Merry broke in eagerly.

Mr. Sandybanks laughed. "Well, you haven’t changed t’all since I last saw you, little Merry—though you’ve grown a deal. Not so little anymore, eh?" Merry grinned with pleasure at his observation. "Beds for three is it? All right. I’ll show you to your room in half a moment. And we have some nice vegetable soup with some fresh bread if you like. You just find a seat and I’ll be right with you." He hurried off into the kitchen and the boys sat down at a table opposite a group of hobbits talking quietly in a corner.

The Innkeeper returned shortly and escorted them to their room, which was in the back of the Inn. There were three beds on one side of it and a fireplace opposite the door. "Well, this should be comfortable for you," said Mungo. "Lunch should be ready soon, so you can join us whenever you like." Frodo thanked him and he shut the door.

Merry promptly dropped his pack on the floor and collapsed on a bed. Frodo and Sam did the same, and all three lay there, too exhausted to talk, for several minutes. Finally, Sam broke the silence. "D’you think lunch is ready yet, Mr. Frodo?" he asked, sitting up.

Frodo propped himself up on one elbow. "I don’t know, Sam, but we could go and find out."

Merry also sat up, yawning. "Yes, let’s go eat before I get too tired to do anything."

Frodo looked at him in mock surprise. "What’s this? Meriadoc Brandybuck to tired to eat? Heaven forbid!"

When they entered the Common Room, they found that, firstly, there were hardly any guests there, and secondly, lunch was not ready. So, they glumly sat at their earlier table, across from that same group of hobbits, the only other occupants of the room, and chatted for a while.

"How many food tables are you going to have at your coming-of-age feast, Frodo?"

Frodo shook his head, laughing. "Merry, my coming-of-age isn’t for another six years—and yours isn’t for another twenty!"

Merry shrugged. "No harm in thinking ahead. I plan to have at least thirty-three—maybe more! There’ll be cakes and cookies and all kinds of wonderful desserts!"

"And you’ll empty every one of those tables yourself, I’ll wager," Frodo teased. "Though I’m afraid you’ll have to share at least half of them with Pippin—that boy can empty an entire pantry by himself!"

"What about you, Sam? What will your coming-of-age feast be like?"

Frodo elbowed Merry sharply in the ribs as Sam looked away and mumbled something inaudible. Frodo quickly came to his rescue.

"He’ll have just as many tables as he wants, of course! His coming-of-age will be just as grand as yours and mine will be. But no need to think about that now;" he neatly changed the subject, "we have quite a while to wait yet. I’ve been meaning, for a long time, actually, to ask you, Sam, about a cherry tree I saw down by the Brandywine when I was visiting Merry last Spring. There were little white bags all over it—like someone had woven a bunch of spider webs together. What are they?"

"Tent caterpillars, probably," answered Sam promptly, smiling in relief at the change of subject. "Actually, they were in the trees in the garden at Bag End last spring, too, but me and the Gaffer pulled ’em out. They can kill a tree, if you let ’em. They haven’t been quite so bad as they were last spring in years, me Gaffer says."

Merry began to ask more about the caterpillars but was interrupted when one of the hobbits from across the room ambled over to their table.

"Well, well. Look what we have here. If it isn’t Frodo Brandybuck and his little friends."

Frodo resisted the urge to groan, and turned to face his cousin. Lotho Sackville-Baggins sneered at him. "And what’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with your dear Uncle—or has he lost interest in you at last?"

Frodo had long ago ceased being surprised by the mean remarks the S.-B.’s always had for him. He clenched his teeth and prepared himself for more cruel words that were sure to come. "Nice to see you too, Lotho," he said dryly. "I don’t believe that it is any business of yours what we are doing here. Suffice to say that Uncle Bilbo has given his permission for us to be here alone."

Lotho barked a short laugh. "Has he now? And has he given you permission to be mingling with the likes of these two?" He gestured disgustedly toward Merry and Sam. "A gardener and that good-for-nothing cousin of yours from Buckland."

Frodo felt Merry tense beside him and he struggled to control his own temper as Lotho continued.

"Honestly, what Bilbo was thinking when he adopted you is still a mystery to me. But he’s always been queer—ever since he went on that ridiculous trip with that scheming wizard."

"Queer!" Someone spoke up from across the room. The boys recognized with sinking hearts that it was Ted Sandyman, the miller’s son. "Mad is nearer the mark!" This produced snickers from the group he sat with and from Lotho.

Merry’s infamous Brandybuck temper got the best of him and he stood up, folding his arms across his chest.

"Ted Sandyman, you would do well not to speak of what you don’t know anything about," he said firmly, quoting something he had once heard Frodo say to Lotho. "But I suppose I should excuse you for lack of wits."

Ted jumped up with a snarl and things could have gone ill, but thankfully, Mungo came in just then with a tray of steaming vegetable soup and fresh bread.

"We shall have to talk later," Lotho hissed in Frodo’s ear before joining the others with the most innocent expression he could muster.

Frodo sighed in relief and turned his attention to Mungo, who was watching them with unhobbitlike curiosity. Frodo opened his mouth to try to explain, but Mungo shook his head and placed the bowls of soup in front of each of them. "No, no. I don’t want to know." He lowered his voice. "It’s enough to know that that troublesome Lotho and Ted were involved; they’re a bad lot and no mistake. But don’t you worry. They won’t trouble you no more tonight if I can do aught about it."

Frodo thanked him sincerely and he hurried off as one of Lotho and Ted’s companions loudly called him over, leaving the boys to their supper. Sam and Merry eagerly dove into theirs, while Frodo stared into space, absently twirling his spoon in his soup. This did not go unnoticed by the younger boys, and both immediately began trying to cheer him up. Encounters with the S.-B.’s always made him rather melancholy.

"Forget what those know-nothings said, Frodo," Merry told him, patting his cousin’s hand and shooting a dark look in Lotho and Ted’s direction.

"Don’t worry, Mr. Frodo," Sam added, "they don’t know what they’re talkin’ about."

Frodo knew what they were trying to do and managed a small smile. "You’re right," he said with a sigh. "I don’t know why I let it bother me."

Merry and Sam grinned with relief. "Good," said Merry, growing serious. "Now, you better eat your soup, Frodo, before it gets cold."

***

After finishing their meal, the hobbit-lads retired to their room, too tired to bother worrying about Lotho and Ted. Even though it was still only early afternoon, they fell asleep almost the instant their curly heads hit their pillows and slept for a good three hours.

Frodo was awakened abruptly by an enormous clap of thunder. He sat up and looked out the window. Rain again. It poured against the window in sheets, and a flash of lightning lit the sky. Frodo counted silently the number of seconds between the lightning and the thunderclap. ‘One, two, three, four, five, si—’ An ear splitting CRACK interrupted him before he even got to seven.

Frodo grinned. Counting the seconds in between the lighting and thunder had always been a favorite game of his. On stormy days like this, he and Bilbo would play it together while drinking some hot cocoa and nestling together in a thick, warm quilt on the big armchair in the sitting room. When the storm stopped, Bilbo would read stories from his thick red book until Frodo fell asleep.

Frodo walked over to the window and sighed, propping his elbows on the sill. He watched as the raindrops changed to hailstones that started out small and grew to about the size of his fist. He enjoyed watching storms when he was indoors; seeing the beautiful patterns of lightning in the sky, and the hail making the ground look like it had snowed. He smiled as he thought about the small ice-hobbit he and Sam had once made out of the melting hail. It had only been about six inches tall and melted by the next morning, but it was fun anyway. They had used two sticks for the arms, a baby carrot for the nose, two small pieces of coal for the eyes, and a clump of brown moss for the hair.

A soft touch on his arm made him jump. Sam was standing beside him. "Oh, hullo Sam," said Frodo softly, mindful of Merry, still sound asleep.

"H’lo, sir," Sam returned, a little shyly, worried that he had disturbed his master’s thoughts. "What were you thinkin’ ’bout, if you don’t mind me askin’?"

Frodo smiled, shook his head and looked back out the window. "Of course I don’t mind," he said. "I was thinking about Uncle Bilbo, and that ice-hobbit you and I made after that hailstorm last summer."

Sam grinned and propped his elbows on the windowsill in the same way Frodo did. "That was fun," he said with a quiet laugh. "D’you remember what it looked like after it melted?"

Frodo laughed as well. "Bilbo said that it looked as if a troll had stepped on it."

Sam looked out the window. "I wonder if we’ll be able to make one after this hailstorm," he said. "Sure don’t seem to show any signs of stoppin’."

Frodo watched the hail beat against the window. "I don’t know, Sam," he said. "But I hope so. Then we can show Merry the finer arts of ice-hobbit making."

The two fell silent, just listening to Merry’s soft snoring and the hail crashing against the roof. A flash of lightning lit the sky and Frodo and Sam covered their ears as a huge clap of thunder followed instantly, shaking the room. Merry woke up with a start and climbed out of bed to stand next to them. "My, but that was loud!" he exclaimed, trying to cover up the fact that it had frightened him, a little.

Frodo leaned closer to the window. "Yes it was," he agreed, looking down at his cousin with a teasing smile. "It didn’t startle you, did it?"

Merry snorted and walked over to his pack. "Of course not," he said indignantly, pulling on a clean shirt. "Merry Brandybuck fears nothing!"

All three boys laughed at his bravado, and Sam and Frodo got dressed. "Well, come to think of it, there is one thing I fear," said Merry once they’d finished dressing.

"What’s that?" Frodo asked.

"That supper’s going to be cold by the time we get there to eat it!" Merry cried, throwing open the door and speeding down the hall, leaving the two slower lads to catch up.

***

After a large supper (thankfully Lotho and Ted were not there), the hobbit lads donned their cloaks and went outside. Frodo had some letters to send to Bilbo, telling him about what had happened on their trip, how long they’d be staying in Bywater, and asking if they could stay with the Broadbelts for a few days. "It will probably only take Uncle Bilbo a day or two to respond," Frodo commented as they left the post office. "Bywater is only a few hours from Hobbiton—unless you take the long way ’round like we did and have Merry to slow you down," he added with an impish glance down at his cousin. Merry stuck his tongue out at him and made a face.

They wandered about the town for a while, just enjoying being outside, even if it was a bit wet. The hail had lessened to just large raindrops, but unfortunately, there was not enough of it on the ground to make an ice-hobbit. The rain cooled them off in the humid air, and they gradually made their way toward the outskirts of town.

"Why don’t we visit Milo and Peony?" Frodo suggested. "Their smial is right over there." He pointed to a cozy hobbit hole far ahead, under a small green hill. Merry and Sam agreed eagerly; Milo and Peony Burrows were favorite cousins of Frodo and Merry and were always fun to be with. They had no children of their own, and enjoyed spoiling all three of the lads.

They quickened their pace and were soon at the door of the Burrows’ smial. Frodo knocked and pulled back the hood of his cloak. There was an overhang covering the doorstep; a rare thing for hobbit holes. The door was quickly answered by a pretty young hobbit lady, with long chestnut curls pulled up in a bun and a sprinkling of freckles on her shapely nose.

"Well, hullo there, lads!" she exclaimed upon seeing them. "I haven’t seen you for a few months. Come in, come in!" She made way for them and they entered gladly. They took up their dripping cloaks, which she hung up on the hooks lining the hall. "Well, what brings you three to Bywater?" she asked, hugging them each in turn. "And without Bilbo?"

"We’re on our first adventure, Peony!" Merry exclaimed excitedly. "All by ourselves!"

Peony looked at him in mock surprise. "What’s this?" she said teasingly. "Three sensible hobbit lads on an adventure?" Being a Baggins by birth, and growing up listening to Bilbo’s tales, Peony herself had once had a small ‘adventure’ out in the Old Forest of Buckland.

Peony led them into the sitting room and brought them each a cup of cold apple cider. "Now," she said after they had all settled down and chatted for a while. "You must tell me all about this ‘adventure’ you’re on. I’m afraid Milo is not here at present—he went to get some seeds to plant next spring. But I’d love to hear the tale, and you can stay just as long as you like and tell Milo when he gets home."

The boys told the story -- well, Merry told most of it, with Sam and Frodo filling in with their own comments every so often -- and when they had finished, Peony invited them to stay for the night. "I’m sorry, Peony," Frodo said remorsefully. "We’d love to stay, but we’ve got rooms in the Ivy Bush and we’d probably better be going."

Merry nodded. "Mr. Sandybanks said that he’s making cherry pie for desert," he added enthusiastically.

Peony laughed. "And you wouldn’t want to miss that, now would you? Well, if you must go, then be sure to come back tomorrow. I’ll be baking an apple pie and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to miss that, either!"

The hobbit lads reluctantly bade Peony goodbye, promising to come back the next day and to consider her offer to stay with them for the remaining time they would spend in Bywater, as well. "We shall have to come back tomorrow!" Merry said as they entered the Ivy Bush. "I don’t want to miss that apple pie!"

Frodo chuckled and took off his cloak. "You’d better hurry up and change out of your wet clothes if you don’t want to miss out on the cherry pie tonight!" At the horrified look on Merry’s face, both Sam and Frodo laughed. Merry was in such a hurry to get dressed that he accidentally fastened his buttons unevenly. "Merry," said Frodo, pushing down Merry’s interfering hands as he fixed them, "the pie is not going to just get up and walk away."

Merry looked at him solemnly. "But the others might eat it all before we get there!" he said melodramatically. "I wouldn’t be able to wait until tomorrow for pie!"

TBC... 

Just for the record, I am aware that Peony and Milo had at least one child at this point, so I did mess with canon a little here. Otherwise I've tried to keep it as correct as I can, but please point out any errors I might have missed if you come across them. :)