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A Conspiracy of Hobbits  by Dreamflower

CHAPTER 5

For a few days, the cousins’ visit went along as it often had in years past--sleeping late, taking walks, spending evenings in The Green Dragon, sitting up late smoking and telling stories. Pippin could almost imagine that nothing had happened to change anything.

Then one morning, he awakened earlier than usual, and the smell of breakfast cooking lured him in the direction of the kitchen. But he stopped before he went in, hearing the sound of Frodo and Sam talking.

“Yes, Sam, I’m afraid that it’s the only thing I can do. I will probably never be able to return to the Shire; and it’s not fair to leave things in a muddle. Selling Bag End is going to have to be done. Even if I should come home, I’d rather it not be like it was for Bilbo when he came back, people trying to auction off his things.”

“But Mr. Frodo, people will wonder why you would sell your home after all these years; it will cause all kinds of talk, and Gandalf said it should be done quietly.”

“I’ve been giving that some thought. I guess that I will need to start some rumours that I’m finally running out of money.” Frodo sounded rather proud of himself for this, but Pippin almost snickered. No one in the Shire would ever believe that a Baggins had run out of money--even if it were true, it would not be believed. Most people were thoroughly convinced that there were pots of gold hidden all through the hill, and it would take more than a rumour to change that belief.

“If you think that will work, Mr. Frodo,” said Sam doubtfully.

“Oh, I’m sure it will. Is the bacon almost done? I’ve finished the toast.”

Pippin decided to make a noise, and come into the kitchen as though he had just arrived. “I thought I smelled breakfast. Is this first or second?” he said cheerily.

Merry came up behind him just then. “Smells like first breakfast to me.”

The four hobbits soon set to on toast, bacon, eggs and fried taters. As they ate and talked, they were startled to hear a booming voice: “Frodo Baggins!” and looked up to see a large bearded face peering in the kitchen window.

“Gandalf!” Frodo cried delightedly, “come right in. I do believe there is some breakfast yet left that these greedy fellows have not devoured.”

“Oi, now,” said Pippin indignantly, “I like that!” He snatched another piece of toast from the rack. Merry smacked his hand.

Gandalf had come round to the kitchen door, and now bent his tall frame nearly double to enter. He stood cautiously, mindful of the nearness of his head to the ceiling. “I see, Frodo, that you have filled your hole with riff-raff while I was gone.” His eyes twinkled in merriment as he gave a mock stern look to the two younger hobbits.

Pippin rolled his eyes, and Merry snorted. But Sam got up and started to clean the kitchen, refusing to look in Gandalf’s direction. He still felt nervous about his listening in, and guilty for telling Mr. Merry afterward.

Gandalf watched his four small friends closely. Something had changed in their way of interacting with one another; it was subtle, but there.

Frodo dished Gandalf up a plate of breakfast and placed it before him.

“Whatever else may be said of them,” said Gandalf, “no one can deny that the Bagginses are excellent hosts.”

“You’re welcome, Gandalf,” laughed Frodo.

After an excellent breakfast and a leisurely pipe, during which he was regaled with all the doings of the Tooks during the recent family gathering, Gandalf took his hat, bag and staff to the room which was set aside for his use during his visits.

He remembered how touched he had been, decades before, to arrive for a visit to Bilbo and discover that the old hobbit had remodeled one of the guest rooms especially for him. It was one of the larger rooms, with a window, yet even so, it had room for only the bed and chair. Gandalf had often wondered how Bilbo had got hold of a Man sized bed and chair, but his old friend had never enlightened him. He stepped down into the room, for the workers had used the typically hobbitish solution of lowering the floor, rather than raising the ceiling. It was a relief to be able to stand upright without worrying about banging his head.

He was going to miss the Shire. But the day was fast approaching when all his work would either be done, or end in total failure. Either way, his time here would end.

And at least he could say that whatever befell, he had spent good times among the merriest and most delightful race in Middle Earth.

xxxxx

A couple of weeks later, one rainy afternoon near the end of Thrimidge, Fatty and Folco had stopped by after tea, and stayed to supper. Now all were gathered in the front room. Frodo and Fatty were occupied by the desk, where Fatty was attempting to make his own copy of one of the Elven tales that Bilbo had translated.

Merry, Pippin and Folco were occupying themselves half-heartedly with an intricate hobbit dicing game. It was less fun than it might have been. They were having to keep score with quill scratches on paper, as Frodo had forbidden his younger cousins to wager, causing Merry to cast his eyes to the ceiling, and Pippin to stick out his tongue behind Frodo’s back.

Gandalf sat on the floor in one corner observing them, smoking and blowing smoke patterns far more interesting than mere rings. Pippin kept looking up in fascination, and was losing track of the game. Merry kept looking at Frodo. The wizard thought he had discovered what the changes in their relationships meant.

The two younger cousins somehow knew that Frodo was leaving. And they were secretly planning on going with him. But apparently they were making their plans separately rather than together. He thought perhaps Merry would try to dissuade Pippin from going if he knew.

At first he had planned to interfere. But as he thought more on it, he realized that his heart was telling him that this was meant to be. Somehow these youngsters had a part to play, just as important as his own. He would keep his own counsel, then, and let matters play out as they would.






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