Chapter 19. Doing the Most Good

Bilbo wakened to the teakettle’s morning song, and as he stretched and inhaled deeply he took in the enticing aroma of bacon, crackling in the skillet. Bouncing out of bed, he quickly pulled on his clothes, poured a dash of water from the ewer into the bowl, scooped up a double handful and rubbed at his face with a glorious blubbery sound.

He tripped into the large, homely kitchen that his father had built for his mother (though when they’d married, she hadn’t known how to boil water!) with a bright face and a song on his lips.

Belladonna stood at the stove, a fork in hand, turning the bacon that it might cook evenly, and hearing her son’s voice she hastily straightened her slumping shoulders and passed a hand over her eyes. Saving Isen from the clutches of their cold-hearted older brother was not going to affect Bilbo, as she’d told herself over and again ever since Bungo had first brought up the idea of bringing Isen to Bag End.

It was to be hoped, with a little love and understanding and a great deal of care and attention, her youngest brother would be restored to himself—or as much to himself as possible. Enough to escape the threat of being “locked away”, in any event. And if that day never came, Bella thought to herself, standing a little straighter, well then, Bungo had made it clear that Isen would be welcome for... for... She couldn’t quite bring herself to say for life, but for years, if need be.

And it needn’t rob young Bilbo of any of the joys of childhood, she told herself. The lad was a bit spoilt, as it was, being an only child. She wiped a tear from the corner of one eye, inwardly blaming its advent on the onions she’d cut up earlier, that were browning nicely with the grated potatoes, adding their notes to the bacon’s song.

‘Hullo, Mother!’ Bilbo sang, dancing up to the stove, to stand upon his tiptoes to peck a quick kiss on his mother’s cheek, for Belladonna was taller and fairer than many hobbits, a Tookish trait, though not so tall as great-great-uncle Bandobras had been said to stand; and Bilbo looked more to be following his Baggins father in height, in any event.

‘Good morning, my love,’ Belladonna said, forking bacon onto a warmed plate. ‘Breakfast is just on...’

‘Good!’ Bilbo said, snatching a toothsome bit and cramming it into his mouth.

‘Careful! It’s hot!’ Belladonna said, and her son obligingly blew on his fingertips, and shook these with vigour.

‘It is!’ Bilbo said. ‘Just as I like it! I’m that ravenous, I am, Mum! I feel as if I hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks!’

Belladonna smiled fondly at her son. She wouldn’t embarrass him by observing aloud that he was “growing so very fast” but it was the truth. Why, she thought he might even be a little taller than when they’d set out for the Smials.

Instead, she filled a plate with crispy golden-brown taters and sunny fried eggs and bacon and sausage and laid this on the kitchen table for Bilbo.

Bungo was in the study already, and had been before the sun arose, for he had some catching up to do with his affairs, after their holiday at the Great Smials. However, the smell of bacon drew him forth as effectively as it had his son, and it was not long before the three Bagginses were breakfasting together in the kitchen, as warm and cosy as if nothing had changed.

Bilbo gathered that Uncle Isen had spent a restless night, and was sleeping in this morning, and secretly he was pleased. He liked having mother and father all to himself. He rather hoped that Uncle Isen would make a habit of sleeping in, so that at least the beginning of the day would be “like old times” and he could pretend that all was as it ought to be. Being a heedless tween, he didn’t notice the dark shadows under his mother’s eyes, or the tenderness with which his father poured out another cup of tea for Belladonna.

Breakfast over, Bungo jumped up. ‘Help your mum with the washing up, will you, lad? I’ve a stack of papers nearly so tall as you are, to go through this morning, that Gordo left off whilst we were away.’

‘Yes, Da,’ Bilbo said, falling into the Tookish form of address after so many days amongst the Tooks. Bella smiled at this, and Bungo ruffled his son’s hair. Tookish the lad might sound, but he had a solid Bagginsy air about him, and Bungo was certain the lad would grow into a fine and steady hobbit. He was already well on his way...

Bungo filled his teacup and started out of the kitchen, peeping into the best guest room on his way to the study. He saw the bedcovers moving as Isen turned over. That hobbit would be arising soon, then. Bungo nodded to himself. He’d go back to the kitchen to warn Bella, and then to the study, but he wouldn’t immerse himself in his papers, not right away. He’d keep a discreet watch on the hallway, through a crack in the study door, and if Isen showed any signs of trying to sneak out of the smial instead of going to the kitchen, Bungo would be ready to catch him up and shepherd him to his breakfast. Isen was much too insubstantial, in Bungo’s opinion. He needed a great deal of feeding up.

Just before he reached the kitchen, he heard Belladonna speaking to Bilbo, and paused in consternation at his son’s reply.

‘So, Bilbo, will you take your uncle to see the sights this day? Isen’s not been to Hobbiton before, though he’s been much farther from the Smials in his life... Westward, that is, and all over where the Sea might lead him...’

Bilbo was scandalized at mention of the Sea and his uncle’s outrageous wanderings. He stiffened his back, threw his head up and said, ‘Is that to be the way of things, then? Am I my uncle’s keeper?’

He felt immediately ashamed at his mother’s sharp intake of breath, for though he couldn’t see the hurt on her face, for she had turned away in her distress, he could certainly hear it, could see it in the way her hands flew up to her mouth, though she immediately forced them down again.

Before Bella could speak, Bungo had re-entered the kitchen, his face bland and smiling, his tone pleasant. ‘On second thought,’ he said, just as if Bilbo hadn’t spoken in a sharp and selfish tone a moment before, ‘the papers will comfortably wait another day... they’ve waited this long already. It looks to be a glorious day, and with winter coming on we mustn’t waste the sunshine. What do you say, my love...’ he didn’t miss Bella’s grateful look, or the shame in Bilbo’s, ‘...that you pack a picnic for Isen and myself, and I’ll take him for a good, long walk to stretch his legs.’

It might work some of the restlessness from the hobbit, to take some wholesome exercise under the Sun’s benevolent gaze, rather than prowling dark tunnels. Bag End was not so sprawling an affair as the Great Smials in any event, without a lot of scope for wandering, and Isen had shown an alarming tendency in the night, pacing the length of the main hall in the little smial, back and forth, from front door to back cellar, there and back again. Bungo and Belladonna had taken turns walking with him, to keep him company, and to make sure that he didn’t go out the front door into the darkness.

Bungo could see Bella’s exhaustion, though he himself could get along with less sleep than his wife needed. He only hoped that she’d lie herself down for a little rest while they were gone.

‘For Isen and yourself, dearest?’ Belladonna said, blinking a little. ‘But what about Bilbo?’

That lad was sullenly piling the plates together, preparatory to bringing them to the washstand, his head down and his shoulders tight.

‘I had the impression he wouldn’t care for such,’ Bungo said carelessly, though he was watching his son with a sharp eye. ‘If he’d rather, he may go and play, after the washing-up is done.’ He saw Bilbo’s shoulders slump a little at this, and so he added, ‘But of course we’ll miss his company... If he wanted to go a-wandering with his old dad...’

‘O but I do!’ Bilbo burst out.

‘Do you, lad?’ Bungo said in mild surprise, and then a pleased smile lighted his countenance. ‘Well, that’s fine, then.’ And to Belladonna he said, ‘Make that a picnic for three, will you, my dear?’

‘O happily,’ Belladonna said, with such a shining face that Bungo couldn’t help going to her, putting an arm around her, and dropping a kiss where it would do the most good.