2. A Long Expected Party, Part I

Pippin is 11, Merry 19 (about 7 and 12 in Man years)
19 Halimath, 1401 SR

Pippin sat on the fence in eager anticipation for the sound of hooves hitting dirt and cartwheels rolling. His Uncle Saradoc and Aunt Esmeralda would be staying at Whitwell for the three days prior to Bilbo’s 111th birthday party. Most of the Brandybucks that would be attending had taken a similar approach for their accommodations, coming to fill the guest rooms at Great Smials and thus lessen their journey for when the day of the party arrived.

Pippin has been bouncing with excitement since the beginning of Halimath, each passing day bringing with it greater anticipation, so that not even Pervinca could wear out his energy, try as she might. His exasperated mother was at the point where she would strangle Bilbo for creating such a frenzy, had she not been looking forward to the event herself. She was waiting just as eagerly as her son for the arrival of her sister- and brother-in-laws. She knew her nephew would distract her son and keep him out from under foot with his endless questions.

She glanced out the window and spotted Pippin still perched on the gate at the end of the lane and even from that great distance, she could see the gate vibrating as the anxious Took failed to contain his energy. Merry couldn’t come soon enough. Of course, Merry brought with him his own problems. Eglantine shook her head and wondered what kind of mischief her son and nephew were concocting.

And mischief was being concocted. If this party was half as big as everyone was saying it would be, Merry and Pippin would be able to get away with all manners of high-jinx. They had begun their planning in the summer, when it was first revealed to them that Bilbo was planning an extravagant affair. For not only was it his 111th birthday, it was also Frodo’s coming of age. They had a long list of tricks to unveil to their unwitting relatives, and they had an extra special treat planned for their favorite cousin.

At long last, Pippin heard the clomping of the ponies and the jittering of the cart. He jumped off the gate and hit the ground running. He flew up the road, nearly startling the ponies as he peeled around the corner to meet them. Saradoc slowed the cart, assuming the young hobbit would jump up to ride with them back to the smial, but instead his son jumped out. The friends embraced and Merry swooped down to grab Pippin in a bear hug and then walk with him down the road. Saradoc started the cart again, with Merry following behind, close enough that his parents wouldn’t complain and far enough that he could talk to Pippin in confidence if need be.

He began by telling Pippin all about their journey from Buckland. Almost half of Brandy Hall was turning out for the event and the expansive mansion oddly quiet. Those that wouldn’t be heading straight for Hobbiton were coming here to Tookland first, and they had traveled a good deal of the way with many of them. They had camped along the East Road the night before, the adults sleeping on soft rolls in the carts, the children scattered about the ground telling tales long into the night.

Merry had taken the opportunity to speak with Pippin’s friend Ilberic. Ilby had agreed to help with any pranks that he could, and Merry knew just the one for him. He was the smallest of the three and could get into places the other two could not. They were to catch up with him at the party, and it was this particular change to their plans Merry most wanted to speak with Pippin about. And he knew just how to reveal it to his friend to minimize any protests.

Merry paused in his talking and slowed his pace slightly. He waited until a good fifteen feet separated them from his parents and then whispered, “And guess what?”

“What?” Pippin asked.

“Gandalf’s going to be there, with fireworks.”

“Oh, I know that already,” Pippin said. One of the Shirriffs had brought that rather exciting piece of information down from Hobbiton a few days ago, and the news had spread through Tookland like wildfire.

“Yes, but did you also know… No, maybe I shouldn’t say anything.”

“What?” Pippin asked, his curiosity instantly peaked. Merry couldn’t possibly know something he didn’t know; that wasn’t allowed.

“No,” Merry teased, “I don’t want to ruin all the surprises.”

“But Merry,” Pippin complained in desperation, a tone he knew Merry would give into in a heartbeat.

“All right,” Merry said, then lowered his voice yet again. “Bilbo’s housing dwarves at Bag End.”

“Dwarves!” Pippin shouted, forgetting himself.

Esmeralda turned to look back at them briefly. What were those two getting up to now? She shook her head and turned back around as the cart pulled up to the house at last. She and her sister-in-law were going to have their hands full with those two.

“Sh!” Merry warned as they neared the others, then added, “We’ll talk later.”

Pippin nodded and helped his cousin with his bags as their parents greeted each other and embraced. He was surprised to see his father had come in off the field. He must have been keeping an eye on his son as well for sign of their guests’ arrival, for he had washed up and changed into one of the fresh shirts he kept in a wardrobe in the barn. Pippin’s sisters were lined up, pressed and prim as well. As they greeted their aunt and uncle formerly, Pippin realized that he had flown right past them in his hurry to get to Merry earlier. Blushing with only mild embarrassment, he rushed over and greeted them properly now, his mother giving him a knowing smile.

Everyone helped to unload the cart, the children taking what they could – the food mostly, with warnings not to eat any of it. The guests settled into their rooms, Saradoc and Esmeralda taking the best guest room, Merry settling himself into Pippin’s room. They then sat down to an elvenses that lingered on and on as the adults caught up and talked about one boring thing after another. Finally, after the food was finished and the dishes were cleared by the servants, the children were excused to do as they pleased. The lasses went to the parlor to talk about the party and what they were going to wear and which lads they were going to dance with and other silly lass things. Merry and Pippin dashed out the door and down the lane toward the fields.

“We have to see the dwarves,” Pippin insisted as soon as they were out of earshot. “I’ve been wanting to see one since I was little. Who knows when there will be dwarves in the Shire again?”

“They’re not likely to be at the party,” Merry said. He had been pondering this particular dilemma since he first heard the news come down from the Brandywine Bridge at the beginning of the month. Fatty’s letter from Budgeford confirmed the rumors as he said he saw a band of dwarves heading down the East Road, driving a laden cart, and more carts had come through in just the last few days.

On the rare occasion that dwarves were spotted passing through the Shire, they were riding through on ponies and usually traveled by night. Merry knew the Dwarves had caves in the Blue Mountains and that they traveled back and forth from there to their other caves in the East at times. For them to now be traveling down the East Road with laden carts could only mean one thing: they were coming to see Bilbo.

He had of course written Frodo in an effort to determine if his hunch was correct, but his cousin was being terribly close on the subject. His reply only said that Bilbo had acquired firecrackers and other unusual gifts from Dale in a cartload that had recently arrived over the bridge but said nothing about dwarves. In fact, he ignored that part of Merry’s letter all together. His cousin could be such a tease at times, but Merry could see right through him, even in a letter.

There had to be dwarves at Bag End, Merry was certain. If there weren’t, Frodo would have just said so. But what he had said was that the cart came from Dale. Merry placed the pieces of this particular puzzle together very quickly: no one had seen any of the Big Folk driving any carts anywhere in the Shire, so none of the Men from Dale had delivered that cart or any of the ones that followed, which meant that the dwarves of Lonely Mountain must have been driving the carts, and that meant that one of Bilbo’s friends from his tales, or maybe all of them, might be here as well. Merry would finally get to meet them!

Or would he? For he didn’t doubt his other assumption: that they were unlikely to be at the party. They would stay at Bag End. Merry wanted so desperately to see a dwarf and now to know they were so close… Merry had a plan, but he needed Pippin to go along with it and was hoping the lad would actually come up with a similar plan on his own.

“So how do we sneak out of the party?” Pippin asked. For the solution to the problem was very simple to him. If the dwarves wouldn’t be at the party, then they would have to leave it to see them.

Merry smiled with relief. Pippin would go along with it now, he was certain.

He shook his head. “We’ll have to wait till nightfall at least, let the adults get some ale in them, and we’ll have to be on our best behavior until then. It’ll be hard to sneak out if we’re already in trouble for something else.”

Pippin’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. So much for all their lovely plans. He turned and headed back to the smial.

“Where are you going?” Merry asked. They still had much planning to do.

“To let the tadpoles out of my closet,” Pippin called dejectedly over his shoulder. He had so wanted to see the look on Lobelia’s face too.

“Pip!” Merry jogged over to Pippin’s side. He couldn’t stand to see him so unhappy, and besides, there was no need to throw away all of their previous planning. Some of it would come in quite useful. “Keep a few. We’ll need them to create a diversion.”

Pippin’s face split in a delightful smile. Good ole Merry! Of course they would need a diversion, and he knew just the tadpoles for the job.

To be continued…

GF 5/5/04