CHAPTER 14

The cousins and Sam spent a busy time the next few days, getting the rest of the sorting out done. There were more mathoms in some of the little used rooms than Frodo ever realized. A lot of things could be given away where they would do some good. Sam asked Marigold and his married sister Daisy to come by, and Frodo asked them to help find homes for many of the items among less fortunate hobbits who could use them.

Among the papers in the study, there was also much to be discarded. This was a more difficult task, and only Frodo could do it properly. Merry and Pippin had made piles of different types of papers: letters, old notes on translations and writings by both Bilbo and Frodo, accounts, business papers.

Pippin grabbed every chance he could get to snoop. As he was sure he would, he found a lot of evidence that Frodo still had plenty of money. One thing he found though, nearly made his heart stop. It was a letter addressed to Frodo’s lawyers, Grubb, Grubb and Burrowes, to be opened if he were not heard from after two years. He left the entire remainder of his Baggins estate--still rather substantial--to Pippin, and all of his Brandybuck inheritance to Merry. Pippin quickly put it back, and snatched his hand away as if it had been a venomous serpent. Then he went to find a hidden corner in which to cry.

As more and more things went out to be discarded or given away, other things began to pile up in boxes and bundles in the front hall. Although many of the furnishings were being included in the sale, a great many were not. Merry tagged the furniture that was to be shipped to Buckland to furnish Crickhollow, as well as that which would be stored in one of the mathom rooms at Brandy Hall.

Fatty and Folco arrived the afternoon of the fifteenth to give their help. The sixteenth was a Highday. The six hobbits worked like mad most of the day, but decided to take the evening off, and took themselves to The Green Dragon for a night of merriment and relaxation.

Merry, Pippin and Folco had made themselves the center of attention, as usual, joking and singing, while Frodo, Fatty and Sam enjoyed their pints and looked fondly on.

Things had been going fairly well until Folco somewhere dredged up from his memory a rather bawdy song about a miller. Unfortunately, Ted Sandyman was there, and decided to take it personally. But Fatty was on the lookout, as he always was when Folco got started, and intercepted the miller with a rather surprisingly strong hand on his arm.

“Now, Mr. Sandyman, you could not possibly think that this has anything to do with you? How could it? The miller in the song is quite a fool, and you’d not want anyone to think you are like that, would you?”

The miller might have been inclined to shrug Fatty off angrily, but then Frodo was at his other side. “I’m sure you know that’s quite an old song, from another part of the Shire altogether,” said Frodo truthfully. “and I’m also sure there’s no thought of it having anything to do with anyone here.” This was only partly true. The thought had never crossed Folco’s mind, but plenty of the regular patrons were smirking and sniggering at Sandyman. “Why don’t you let us stand you an ale?”

Now a look of confusion crossed his face. He would have to decide between a chance to vent his choleric disposition, or a free ale.

Then he saw Sam Gamgee, standing there with his arms crossed, one eyebrow quirked, waiting. Sam had it in for him ever since he had caught the miller letting his gaze linger a bit too long on Miss Rose Cotton. Sam would just love an excuse--any excuse.

He decided to take the ale. He nursed it in silence, with a red face, as the miller in Folco’s song came to an embarrassing and ignominious end. Folco never had a clue.

He’d bide his time, he would, thought the miller. He’d not forget this; not by a long-shot.

xxxxx

The next day was Sterday, the beginning of the last week at Bag End. The six hobbits were busier than ever, and all the front rooms were piled high with ever more boxes and bundles.

Merry was making lists of the items that were to stay; Sam was outside, “putting the gardens to sleep”, something he’d not normally be doing for a few weeks yet;Fatty, Folco and Pippin were busy packing, pushing and hauling.

Frodo was jumpy, seemingly unable to settle to any one task, and starting at the least little sound.

“What is the matter with you, Frodo?” asked Pippin, finally in frustration. “You act like someone put a bug down your back.” He spoke from experience, having personally performed this experiment on his cousin several years ago.

“I’m sorry,” answered Frodo, “I’m worried about Gandalf. I expected him back long before this.”

Merry looked up sharply. “Gandalf’s coming back?”

“He said he’d be back in time for the farewell party.” Frodo bit nervously on a thumbnail.

Now Merry was worried. Persuading Frodo he should come was one thing; Gandalf was another matter altogether. He’d yet to hear of anyone persuading the wizard. On the other hand, he might be glad to have another companion and protector for Frodo.

Still, it was also somewhat comforting, as well. A wizard would be much better protection for Frodo than just a couple of hobbits, however determined.

Pippin was watching Merry’s face. He could tell what Merry was thinking. He wondered himself about it. He’d never known his wistful expression to cut any ice with Gandalf. The wizard had known several generations of Tookish green eyes.

But of course, Gandalf wasn’t here yet either, was he? Hmmm...

“Speaking of Gandalf, what about the Big furniture. Does that stay or go?” asked Pippin.

“Well,” said Frodo, “it wasn’t actually included in the furnishings the S-B’s bought, but there is no way for it to go. When Bilbo had it brought here from Bree, it came delivered by Big People in one of their large waggons; there is no way for hobbits to transport it.”

“Oh, really?” Pippin had a speculative look in his eye. He gave a great grin and dashed off down the hall.

Merry and Frodo looked at one another.

“Oh, no you don’t, my lad!” called Frodo, as he and Merry dashed after him.

But they were too late. The young Took was already on the huge bed, bouncing and jumping for all he was worth, laughing and grinning. “I’ve always wanted to try this!” he yelled breathlessly.

Merry looked at Frodo and shrugged apologetically--then he hopped up and joined his younger cousin.

A few minutes later, the squeals and laughter brought Fatty and Folco into the room, where they stood shaking their heads at all three of the bouncing cousins.

“Are they daft, Fatty?” asked Folco, with a worried frown.

Fatty just shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think it’s just all that Took blood goes to the brain sometimes.” Fatty might be half Took himself, but he'd never seen any signs of it in his own temperament.