Sections in italics are taken directly from The Fellowship of the Ring, Chapter 3, “Three is Company”

xxxxx

CHAPTER 20

Frodo arose shortly after sunrise, following a restless and mostly sleepless night. He could not bear staying a-bed, trying vainly for sleep any longer. He took himself to the kitchen, where to his surprise he found his youngest cousin.

“Good morning, Frodo,” mumbled Pippin around a full mouth.

“Pip. For goodness’ sake, you’re up early.”

“I was hungry.” He gestured at the huge slab of cake on the plate in front of him. “Care for some first breakfast? Tea and cake make an excellent first breakfast.”

Frodo sighed and nodded. “Make my piece about half that size, please.” With that much cake in him this early in the morning Pippin was going to have far too much energy today.

After a while, they were joined in stages by Merry, Fatty and Folco. Quite a bit of inroad was made on the cake; they had whittled it down to half, at least. Pippin cut himself a third piece. Merry looked at Frodo, who shrugged. Oh well, thought Merry, if Frodo doesn’t care that Pip will be bouncing off the walls today, why should I?

After breakfast, they were busy packing another cart with the remainder of the luggage. Merry took charge of this and with his usual efficiency, it was soon laden.

“Someone must get there and warm the house before you arrive,” said Merry. “We’ll see you later--the day after tomorrow, if you don’t go to sleep on the way.”

“Well, Fatty.” Merry was driving the cart, with Fatty by his side. “we’re on the way now. You know it won’t be much longer until it all comes out.”

“I know.” Fatty sounded subdued. “I wish I wasn’t such a coward. I am going to be miserably lonely after you lot leave.”

Merry looked at him. “My dear Fredegar Bolger! You are no coward--do you think so little of my judgment that I would have confided in you about the Ring if I thought you a coward.?”

Fatty looked surprised. “I hadn’t thought much about why you chose me to help. I just supposed there wasn’t anybody better.”

“Do you remember a couple of years ago at the Harvest Festival in Michel Delving, when loathsome Lotho, Sandyman, and a couple of other bullies had started to give Folco a hard time?”

Fatty looked grim. “I remember.”

“I was watching, in case Folco needed help. You came through, pretending to be drunk--though you had not even finished one ale yet--and whisked him away from under their noses. But I could tell from the set of your shoulders that you were ready to take them all on if it hadn’t worked. I realized then that you were a lot smarter than you ever let on.”

Fatty blushed at the praise. “But that was different. That was just taking care of Folco--like you would’ve done for Pip. You and Pippin and Sam are so brave to be leaving the Shire.” He gave a shudder. Even talking about it made him a little queasy.

“Not everyone’s meant for the same kind of courage. Choosing to sit at Crickhollow like a piece of bait when you know there may be someone looking for Frodo is pretty brave, I’d say.”

“I just want to help Frodo.”

“I know, Fatty. So do we all.”

xxxxx

Back at Bag End, Pippin was thoroughly bored. He had packed, unpacked, and repacked, his pack. He had driven Frodo to distraction asking questions, the most burning of which was “When do we leave?”

Finally his cousin told him to go outside until lunchtime. Frodo was trying to get ready himself, but was delaying, in the hopes that Gandalf might yet arrive. He had decided to leave in the evening after tea.

Outdoors, the tweenager found a few ways to stave off the boredom. He found the empty wine bottles from the day before, and lined them up on the garden wall for targets to throw stones at. Smashing them was very satisfactory, but his speed and accuracy meant they were all broken very quickly, and then he had the tedious task of cleaning up the broken glass. (Hobbits are meticulous in the matter of glass shards.) Then he went and climbed the Party Tree. Though it was not the first time he had climbed it, it was his first chance in a long time. He could not help but think it was also his last chance.

He climbed quite high, and was still up there when Folco came looking for him to call him to lunch.

xxxxx

Merry and Fatty stopped at The Floating Log in Frogmorton for lunch. They were making quite good time.

Fatty took a sip of his ale. “Merry, how are you fixed for funds for this journey?”

“I started saving up last fall, when I first started thinking about it. But paying Da for the last two ponies is going to take quite a bite out of it, and too, with Pip coming along, I’ll be covering the both of us.” Merry grimaced. The Thain kept his son deliberately short of spending money; it was not an unwise precaution, considering the tweenager’s impulsive nature. But he knew Pippin would probably have no more than a pocketful of change when they left the Shire.

“I was wondering about that. Do you think we might have time for a brief stop in Budgeford?”

“You want to stop and see your family?”

“Well, yes, but mostly, I’ve a bit of coin tucked away. I think that you will have more need of it than I.” Fatty noticed the look on Merry’s face. “Don’t get all prickly with Brandybuck pride on me here, Merry. This is for Frodo’s sake, and Pippin’s.”

Merry pursed his lips, and thought for a moment. “Yes, well, you are probably right. I don’t know that you will ever see a copper of it again though.”

“I don’t expect to, even when you come back.” Fatty tried to make himself sound optimistic; but it really was not his nature--he still felt that going outside the Shire was courting disaster. The only problem was that staying in the Shire was going to bring disaster as well.

Merry gave a thoughtful sniff. “Right.”

xxxxx

Frodo, Pippin, Folco and Sam made a light lunch with a few of the leftovers from the night before. The giant cake had been carved down to about a third of its original size, but it was still a lot of cake. Only Pippin wanted any after they had finished the rest of the lunch. Frodo cut it for him, and it was a much smaller piece than he would have cut for himself.

Folco finished eating early, and took his leave. He wanted to head home before it got any later.

“Goodbye, Frodo,” he gave his host a brief embrace. “I’ll come see you in Buckland in a few weeks.”

Frodo returned his hug, his eyes shining. “Thank you for all your help, Folco. I’m going to miss you.”

Folco ruffled Pippin’s head. “Goodbye, Pip. I’ll see you soon.” And then he left. He had already put his pack by the kitchen door.

“Sam,” asked Frodo “didn’t you tell me that Daisy and May will be bringing the children to visit the Gaffer?”

“Yes, sir. I fancy they think having the grandchildren there will cheer the Gaffer up from me leaving.”

“Well, why don’t you take the rest of the cake down to Bagshot Row. I think the children will enjoy it, and we certainly can’t finish it all before we leave.” When Pippin looked as though he were going to say something, Frodo quelled him with a look.

“Why thank you, Mr. Frodo, I think the little ones will find it a right treat.” He bundled it up in a dish towel, and went away with it. Pippin watched sorrowfully.

Frodo laughed. “Pip, you’ve already eaten more cake than all the rest of us put together. Much more and your teeth will be falling out of your head.”

Just then there was a knock at the door. Pippin hastened to get it. He was not amused by criticisms of his eating habits.

When he opened the door, there stood Lobelia and Lotho. “You’re early,” he said rudely, and prepared to slam the door in their faces. But Frodo was behind him, and forestalled him. He did not look happy.

“Come in, Lobelia, Lotho,” he said wearily.

“Ours at last!” said Lobelia, as she stepped inside. It was not polite; nor strictly true, for the sale of Bag End did not take effect until midnight. But Lobelia can perhaps be forgiven: she had been obliged to wait about seventy-seven years longer for Bag End than she once hoped, and she was now a hundred years old. Anyway, she had come to see that nothing she had paid for had been carried off; and she wanted the keys.

Frodo was annoyed to no end, but he held his tongue, and escorted his unwelcome visitors through the smial, trailed by Pippin, who was keeping an angry eye on Lotho. The wretch would not have dared turn up like this if Merry were still here.

It took a long while to satisfy her, as she had brought a complete inventory with her and went right through it.

They came to Gandalf’s guest room. “What is that stuff still doing here?” she asked angrily, pointing at the Big bed and chair. “It’s not included, and I don’t want it here!”

“I’m sorry, Lobelia” said Frodo, not sounding the least bit sorry. “but there is no way to take it away.”

Lotho was looking at it speculatively. “That’s all right, Mother. It’s possible that it could be useful some time.” There was an avaricious gleam in his eye that Pippin did not like at all.

As Lobelia and Frodo went on ahead, Pippin muttered “Useful for what? It’s not like you have any friends at all, much less Big ones.” He did not really intend to be heard, but Lotho’s ears were sharp.

“You’d be surprised, young Took, at the friends I might have. You’d best learn to keep a civil tongue in your head. Being the son of the Thain might not be protection much longer.” Lotho gave him a nasty sneer, and went out after his mother and Frodo.

Pippin wondered what he meant by that. Just bluster, he supposed.

Lobelia insisted on going through each and every nook and cranny. In the end she departed with Lotho and the spare key and the promise that the other key would be left at the Gamgee’s in Bagshot Row. She snorted and showed plainly that she thought the Gamgees capable of plundering the hole during the night. Frodo did not offer her any tea.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” said Pippin as he watched them leave.

He had an idea.

Frodo sighed. “I think I’m going to take a nap. We’ll be walking well into the night. You might want to consider the same thing.”

“That’s all right, Frodo. I’ll find something to do.”

“Why do I not find that reassuring?”

xxxxx

By mid-afternoon, Merry and Fatty had arrived in Budgeford. They went straight to Fatty’s home at Brock Hall.

Fatty’s parents were pleased to see him. He was seldom at home, preferring to visit his friends around the Shire. They offered the two young hobbits an early tea.

Fatty’s younger sister Estella came in, and ran to embrace her brother. “Oh, Fatty, it’s good to see you!” Not many people realized that his nickname did not come from his more than average plumpness, but was his sister’s baby name for him, when she could not pronounce “Freddy”.

Fatty gave his sister a squeeze. “It’s good to see you, too, kitten.”

After they had refreshed themselves, Fatty told his family he needed to fetch some things from his room for his stay at Crickhollow. His parents were somewhat distressed that he would be going over the River into Buckland, but with Merry there, they could not argue or criticize. After all, it wouldn’t do to insult the Brandybucks, who in spite of being over the River, held as much influence in the East Farthing as the Tooks did in the rest of the Shire.

Fatty kept the visit brief, as he and Merry had decided that they wanted to pass the night at the Bridge Inn, and needed to press on.

xxxxx

Thud…thud…thud…thud…

Frodo wakened to the muffled sound. What in the world?

He got up and padded down the hall. It was coming from Gandalf’s room. He sighed. He should have known.

Pippin was bouncing on the Big bed again.

“Peregrin!”

“Oops.” He stopped bouncing and looked sheepishly at his older cousin. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“But not sorry for the bouncing!” Frodo laughed. “Come on, let’s go get ready for tea.”

As Pippin left, he looked back over his shoulder. Good thing Frodo did not notice that the window was propped slightly open. Or the plate of honey hidden under the bed. Or the jar of ants with the lid slightly askew. He was leaving the Sackville-Bagginses a very nice little homecoming present, he thought.