Mersday, 15 Rethe S.R. 1389

For the last two days, Frodo and Merry had spent much of their time crouched at the opening to “Gandalf’s room” watching the workers in fascination, as they had laid the flagstones for the floor, enlarged the window, and built steps down from the passageway to the lowered floor. There were four whole steps, and Merry had spent a great deal of time hopping up and down them, until he got in the workers’ way.

Then Mr. Goodchild had given Frodo and Merry a barrow full of wood scraps, left from framing in the steps and the new window, and the new doorframe, and told them to take it outside. There was a wonderful pile of dirt, taken from the floor excavation, at the side of the smial, that Gaffer Gamgee had not yet taken away to make garden beds. With the dirt and wood scraps the two lads had built a perfectly lovely village. Frodo had made up a marvelous tale about it, and named all the people in it, and he and Merry were having a discussion as to whether it would be better if it were attacked by trolls or by a dragon.

It was almost time for luncheon, though, and Frodo realized just how dirty they were. No time for a bath, but they were certainly going to have to scrub up before they could eat. And after luncheon, Merry was supposed to rest quietly while Frodo had his lessons.

This was one part of the visit Merry was not liking. One thing Frodo had to do when he came to stay with Bilbo in the spring was have special lessons in poetry, history and the strange languages of the Elves. Merry thought these lessons were silly, but Frodo quite loved them, and did not like them interrupted. So Frodo’s lesson time was not much fun for Merry. He would lay on the settee, and try very hard to be good, but sooner or later he would fidget and sigh. Then Frodo would look at him crossly, and Cousin Bilbo would tell him to be a good lad and rest quietly or he would have no cakes at tea.

But today, as they were going in to wash up for luncheon a hobbitess came up the walk carrying a basket that smelled wonderful. There was a stocky little lad behind her, of perhaps nine years old. He had sandy curls almost the same color as Merry’s, and kind brown eyes.

Even dirty, Frodo was always polite. He stopped on the steps, and said “Good day, Mistress Bell, may I help you?“ Merry suddenly felt a bit shy. He hid behind Frodo, and stared out at the lad.

She gave a warm laugh, a mum’s laugh, and said to Merry “I’m Bell Gamgee, the Gaffer’s wife.” She looked at Frodo. “I brought the Gaffer, and my brother Half, a chicken pie for their lunch; and I thought as how Mr. Bilbo had company, I brought another one for him.”

This was a bit much for Merry. “Why did you only bring the Gaffer and your brother half a pie?” For he thought that surely two grown hobbits would need a whole pie between them.

The lad suddenly burst out laughing. “Not half a pie. Half. That’s my Nuncle Half, that’s his name!”

“Samwise!” reproved his mother.

But now that Merry understood, he quite liked the joke, and began to laugh as well. Just then Bilbo opened the door.

“Well bless my buttons! It looks as though a jolly time is being had by all out here.” He took a closer look at his two young guests. “Lads, into the house and clean up for lunch. Scamper!” As they did, they heard him saying “Mistress Bell, how good of you to come up. And how are you today, young Sam?”

By the time that Frodo and Merry had come out to the kitchen, their faces red and shiny from the scrubbing, Bilbo had dished up luncheon: soup, cheese sandwiches and some of Mistress Bell’s chicken pie. As they tucked in, Bilbo said

“Mistress Bell has had a splendid idea, Merry. Perhaps today, instead of trying to take a nap while Frodo and I natter on in Elvish, you and Sam might like to play together.”

Frodo looked at Bilbo questioningly. He had known Sam since he had begun to spend the spring at Bag End a few years ago, and he was a very nice child, but he was only a little lad after all. Could he really keep an eye on Merry? For Frodo felt keenly his responsibility for his little cousin.

Bell correctly interpreted his look. “Not to worry, Master Frodo. My Samwise is a very responsible lad. He’ll not let any harm come to your cousin, nor lead him into trouble.”

And so that afternoon, instead of having to pretend to rest, Merry got to go back outside with Sam. They played some more in the dirt pile, and then lay on the lawn to talk and watch the clouds. They soon discovered they had much in common, not the least the firmly held opinion that Frodo was the most splendid hobbit in the world. They did disagree on the second most splendid hobbit: Sam firmly thought it was Mr. Bilbo, while Merry held out for his Da. Sam finally conceded that perhaps it was proper for Merry to like his Da better than Bilbo. Sam liked to say “proper” a lot.

Then Sam took Merry round the garden and showed him all the plants. Sam knew what they all were by name, and the two lads found some weeds that Sam’s Gaffer had not yet got to, so they weeded one of the flower beds. The Gaffer came round and found them at it, and at first Merry thought he would be cross, but he said they had saved him a job of work, and he was right proud of his Sam for not pulling the flowers by mistake.

It was almost time for tea, and so the Gaffer took his son away home with him, and Merry went in, dirtier than he had been in the morning, but quite happy and tired all the same.