Chapter Four - Trapped

Bilbo winced when he opened his eyes; he had an outer guestroom at Great Smials. The window with a panoramic view of the Green Hills yonder grabbed his attention the day before--but not now. Oy! Just a bit too much ale I’m afraid, he said to himself. He rolled over and laid aside his blankets. Soon he rose up and readied himself for the day, but only after closing the velvety drapes.

His hair was combed, teeth brushed, hands and face washed when he stepped out of his room to find breakfast in the dining room. He smiled to himself, thinking of all the ladies asking him to dance the evening before. How many did he dance with? He shook his head and laughed at his own nonsense. Halfway down the hall he was intercepted by two young tweens.

Adelard swept up behind Bilbo; gently, but firmly he took the left upper arm of the elder hobbit. “Hullo, Cousin!”

“Good morning, Bilbo!” Paladin walked up on Bilbo’s right side, taking Bilbo’s right arm.

“Wha--?” Bilbo was quite surprised by the sudden accompaniment of the two young lads then got his wits back. “Adelard Took! Let go of me this instant.” Then he looked to his right, “and you, too, Paladin.” Bilbo stood with hands on his hip addressing the lads. “Now what are you two boys up to this time?”

Adelard feigned innocence well. “Up to?” he asked. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean, Adelard!” Bilbo tried his best to admonish the lads, but inwardly, he was laughing at their cheek. He loved these two scoundrels ever since they were young boys--the only two hobbits in the Shire happy to see him return from the Lonely Mountain.

Paladin stepped up, “All we want is for you to join us with Uncle Isengar at breakfast.”

Of all the young scheming hobbits that he knew, Bilbo thought young Paladin was the worst--or the best, depending on which end you sat, and Adelard was the lad’s equal.

“You lads wait until you’re all grown up and have lads of your own,” said Bilbo laughing, “I hope they are as much a nuisance to you just as you have been to your poor cousin this morning.” Then he added, “Of course I’ll breakfast with you and Isengar. I begin to believe that the dear old hobbit is the only one who understands me!”

* * * * * *

“Papa!” This time it was young Pervinca disrupting the tale. “Where’s the love story? Where’s the kissing?” she asked eagerly.

For some reason, Paladin was hearing the distant echoes of Bilbo’s pronouncement... “It’s coming up, Sweet Pea--now you must be quiet so the others can listen.”

“Papa,” Pippin glared with distaste at his sister, then whispered to his father, “You don’t have to tell about the kissing if you don’t want to.” The child spoke as if it would be something traumatic for his father to tell.

“That’s all right, Pip; Uncle Paladin likes to kiss!” said Merry, ever the helpful one. “Don’t you, uncle?”

Paladin ignored the impish grin on Merry’s face. “As I said, on with the story.” Taking a deep, relaxing breath Paladin continued on, “Adelard was on his third slice of…”

* * * * * *

Adelard was on his third slice of cured meat and was watching him about to spoon more eggs onto his plate when Paladin nudged his cousin’s leg under the table to get his attention. The young tween was growing impatient.

Adelard felt his younger cousin prod his shin but ignored his efforts. There was a plan in his head to get rid of the server who stood near the door like a warden, but he could not let the younger Took in on it yet. This time he felt Paladin kick him hard in the leg. With tight restraint, Adelard answered, “I’m sorry, cousin, were you wanting more eggs?” Without waiting for Paladin to answer, he emptied the platter onto his friend’s plate.

Paladin had already eaten his fill. “But--!”

“Eat up, cousin!” said Adelard while smirking, “There’s more in the kitchens.” Turning to the server, Adelard got up and handed him the empty egg platter, putting his arm around the servant’s shoulder as if they were life-long friends. “Gorbin! Would you be so kind as to fetch us more bacon and rolls? And while you’re at it,” he said further, “send along a tray of tea, four apple tarts, two jelly pastries, a bowl of fruit, and a platter of biscuits?” He patted Gorbin’s shoulder, “by the time you return, it will be closer to elevenses.”

“Sir,” Gorbin leaned close to the tween, “I have been charged with not leaving Mister Isengar alone.”

“Are you saying that we three cousins cannot care for our uncle while you are away?” asked Adelard.

“No, sir,” Gorbin replied awkwardly. Giving in to the tween’s wishes he took the platter and departed the room to the kitchens.

Adelard waited until he heard the door lock click shut. He crept through the parlor and ensured the door was closed tightly. Satisfied all was in order, he swiftly walked back to the table. “All right, we don’t have much time until Ferumbras or his father figures out that Uncle Isengar is ‘alone’,” Adelard stressed the last word with much sarcasm, using his fingers to simulate quotes. How did he miss all of this? He lived here, but never knew his uncle was treated in such a humiliating manner.

“Not much time for what?” Bilbo was getting confused; all he knew was that he was here to breakfast with a few good friends.

“Where’s the envelope?” Isengar wanted to ensure the letter hadn’t fallen into the wrong hands. He could trust his nephews implicitly, but accidents do happen; such as envelopes falling out of a young lad’s pockets.

“I’ve got it here,” Paladin gave the letter back to his uncle. He eyeballed Adelard, “It’s my love letter to Tina.”

“Love letter?” asked Bilbo. “Why are you giving Isengar your love letters, lad?”

“You’ll have to read it, Bilbo,” Adelard offered. “You have to in order to understand what Paladin and I have to propose.”

Bilbo felt so baffled about the conversation. “But I don’t want to read his love letter,” he said. “No matter what he’s proposing.”

Paladin laughed, “It’s not a love letter, dear Bilbo--and I’m too young to propose--yet. Addie called it a love letter when we feared Bart would take it and give it to Ferumbras--or worse--his father, the Thain.”

Bilbo took the envelope, blinking in recognition of the envelope. Laying it aside, Bilbo began to read the letter. The lads both smiled in unison when Bilbo’s eyes widened and he smiled. “This--this is marvelous, Isengar! When will you depart?”

“He doesn’t--thus far,” answered Adelard, then realized he was behaving as Bart would. “I’m sorry, Uncle. I shouldn’t be answering for you unless you aren’t able to.”

Isengar patted his nephew’s hand. “But I know that you mean well, Addie.” Then turned to his fellow adventurer, “I’m afraid I’m having a bit of trouble getting beyond my own front door, Bilbo.”

Bilbo was stunned. “Why is that?”

“I believe Fortinbras thinks that some of the children will follow me,” Isengar indicated with a nod towards the tweens’ sitting at the table. “He knows that some of the lads enjoy my tales of the Sea and he fears that some may follow should I go on another adventure.”

Bilbo laughed at the absurdity. “But you’re ninety-five years old for heaven’s sake! How far could you go in a wheel chair? To the door of the north gardens?”

To the amazement of all at the table, Isengar stood up unassisted. He was just a tad bent, but slowly he walked all over his quarters to verify that he indeed had all of his faculties, requiring no wheel chair.

Seeing his uncle out of his wheel chair and walking for the first time in many, many months, Paladin ran into his uncle’s arms. “And all this time I thought you were old!”

The elder hobbit laughed sadly; he knew he was fast approaching the life span of hobbits. “There, there, lad,” he said, giving his nephew a gentle hug, patting his back. “I am old, but I’m not quite feeble yet.” He smiled at the tween’s tears, “I think I have yet one more adventure in me, if I had the right help.”

Paladin stepped back, now a bit embarrassed by his tears and quickly wiped them away. “And that’s just what we’re here to do, Uncle!”