Chapter 32. Yule Preparations

The last month of the year was fast approaching, meaning Yuletide was just "around the corner", and with it the advent of some problem to which Bilbo was not privy. Or at least, he thought there was some problem or other, for sometimes he’d wake in the night, to hear his parents whispering in their room, adjacent to Bilbo's. Isen had been given the best guest room, a little way down the hallway and away from the others, to give that hobbit more privacy now that the Bagginses no longer worried about his wandering off in the middle night. Thus, in all likelihood he did not hear the whispered conversations – but Bilbo did. 

Not any of the words came clearly to the tween's ears, mind, though he might strain his hardest to hear. Nevertheless, he could tell from the tone of their voices that the conversations were serious and not playful, that much he knew and could therefore conjecture that his parents' heartfelt discussions were not about Yule presents nor happy surprises. At times, alarmingly, young Bilbo heard Bella’s whisper break into a sob, followed by comforting noises from Bungo. 

Clarity came at last about a month before the celebration to mark the turning of the Year. At breakfast that day, Isen looked up from his bacon, eggs and fried potatoes to say, ‘So, when do we leave for the Smials?’ 

Belladonna choked on her tea. Meanwhile, Bungo devoted himself completely to patting her back, murmuring his concern and encouragement. 

Bilbo, who’d been wondering much the same thing – and was very glad it was Isen who’d asked, and not himself – looked from mother to father in astonishment. One might think that their usual lengthy visit to the Great Smials to see in the New Year was an unusual occurrence, or even an unwelcome prospect! 

At last Belladonna seemed to have regained her ability to breathe, though she circled her cup with her hands and gazed down into its depths as if to keep the rest of the contents at bay. Bungo calmly met the two pairs of inquisitive eyes that turned to him and said, ‘Yes. Well.’ 

‘Well?’ Isen asked helpfully when the silence threatened to stretch through the better part of the meal, or even past the end of breakfast time. 

Bungo took a deep breath. The elder Baggins was nothing if not courageous in the face of a daunting task. ‘We’ve been talking…’ he said, looking from son to brother in love and then to his beloved Belladonna. 

‘Talking?’ Isen prompted, when Bungo seemed to be stuck. 

‘Bella and I,’ Bungo clarified. ‘We’ve been talking about how…' He paused and picked up his serviette, folded it carefully, and laid it down with frowning precision. Then he looked up to find Isen and Bilbo still waiting. 'Perhaps we’ll give the celebration a miss this year.’ 

Instead of dismissing the subject, as his casual tone suggested, Bungo's word had rather the opposite effect.

‘Bella, are you well?’ Isen demanded immediately in alarm. ‘Is it that you’re deathly ill, and you and your beloved feared to tell me, lest it “set me off” or some such? I hope you know that you’re more important to me than…’ 

But even as fear stirred Bilbo to jump up and circle his mother in a hug, Belladonna was protesting, ‘No – O no, Isengar dear, I’m well!’ She reached up to loosen Bilbo’s strangling hold and smiled at her young son over her shoulder as she repeated, ‘I’m well.’ 

‘Then,’ Isen said, looking shrewdly from his sister to Bungo and back again. ‘Then it’s on my account, is it?’ 

Bungo pulled at his collar, much as he might when “facing down the dragon” or standing to speak an opinion that was not quite in full accord with that of the Tooks and the Old Took in particular. He then took a deep breath and nodded at last. ‘It is,’ he said, and then he raised his eyes to meet Isen’s piercing regard. ‘It is on your account, my dear brother. Are you strong enough, lad, to eat the dish they’ll set before you?’ 

‘I think that you mean,’ said Isen, ‘am I strong enough to let Tooks be Tooks, and keep my scandalous thoughts to myself, to limit my conversation to safe topics, to allow my family to express the most outrageous of opinions… and to agree with them.’ 

‘O Isen!’ Belladonna reproached, but Bungo was nodding his head. 

‘Yes, brother,’ he said. ‘This is not a game, where you sons of the Old Took can score points off one another with witty repartee, but deadly serious business. Your life is at stake.’ 

Both Bilbo and his mother gasped at this statement, but Isen regarded Bungo thoughtfully. 

‘What?’ he said at last. ‘Do you think they’ll banish me, cast me over the border with a sack of food and a few coins, mark me so that the Bounders would stop me from returning?’ 

‘No,’ Bungo said. ‘It's much worse than that. I think they’ll lock you away, in some deep, dark place, where you can’t disturb them with your… adventurous spirit, your courage, your daring…’ 

‘Bungo!’ Belladonna said, aghast at all these uncomplimentary terms. 

‘…to contradict them and their comfortable opinions, their firm belief that they know all there is to know that’s worth knowing.’ Bungo finished. 

There was a long silence. 

At last Isen said quietly, ‘Is this what you think of me? That I ought to be locked away?’ 

Belladonna lifted her serviette to her mouth and sobbed, and her eyes overflowed. 

Bilbo hugged his mother tighter and voiced his own protest. ‘No!’ 

‘It’s not what I think that matters so much,’ Bungo said. ‘As a matter of fact, things have been quite inter—I mean, you’ve rather stirred us up, since you’ve come, brought light and life to the place, taken us out of ourselves, as it were, and given us new food for thought to be chewing over.’ 

‘But what you think doesn’t matter – or so you say,’ Isen pressed. 

‘No, brother,’ said Bungo, his tone so serious that the three others stared at him, wordless now. ‘No, what matters is what the Tooks think – and they were this close,’ and he held his thumb and forefinger so that they nearly touched, ‘to locking you away, and who knows when or even if they’d ever have let you see the light of day once more?’ 

‘O Bungo,’ Belladonna breathed. 

Bungo shook his head. ‘I cannot bear to contemplate such a thing,’ he said, ‘and yet I can clearly see it happening. All Isengrim has to do is convince the old hobbit that it’s what’s best for you, and for the rest of the family. Oh, he’ll couch it in terms of “helping” and “sheltering” and “healing” but I fear what the reality might be. I know Grim far too well… much better than I’d like to know him.’ 

‘You’re not saying…’ Belladonna said. 

Bungo looked at her sadly. ‘O my love,’ he said in a low tone. ‘I can see your family so very clearly, more clearly than you can, with the blinkers of love that were shaped for you to wear, growing up in the Smials amongst all those brothers and sisters, under your father’s thumb.’ 

‘My father is a loving…!’ Belladonna began indignantly. 

‘He might well be,’ Isen interrupted. ‘But my dear, determined eldest brother…’ He looked from Belladonna to Bungo and nodded slowly. ‘Grim was brought up to follow our father as family Head,’ he said, ‘and he’s had his own ideas, for years, about how he thinks things ought to be. He’s always felt he knew better than anybody else…’ 

‘And he will be the next Head of the family,’ Bungo said, ‘and no one will dare to dispute his word when the time comes, for he’ll be The Took, even if he’s not the Old Took, nor even a shadow of the old hobbit…’ 

‘And so you’re saying...?’ Isen prompted when Bungo fell silent once more. 

‘And so, brother,’ Bungo said slowly, weighing each word. ‘You must be strong enough to play a dangerous game – you must convince your dear eldest brother that he was wrong about you, that you are healed, nay, that you are not yourself!’ 

At the others’ quizzical looks, he forged on determinedly, ‘For if you are your delightful self, brother, he will see the potential for scandal and embarrassment to himself as head of the family, which he is anticipating more and more with each day that passes…’ 

Isengar began to nod. ‘He will set everything aright, that he perceives to be amiss,’ he said slowly. 

‘And so you must play at being someone completely different,’ Bungo said. ‘I know that you have the wit to do so, and the courage, but do you yet have the strength? Can you keep your temper, and control your tongue, in the face of all your loving relations?’ 

‘I think I can,’ Isen said. 

‘One slip could undo all the good that has been done,’ Bungo warned. ‘I would not see your family destroy you, brother. I and your sister love you too much for that.’ 

‘Destroy him!’ Belladonna gasped. She’d been too hurt to speak until now, having listened silently to Bungo’s candid slur against her father and her family, and by implication, herself. This was too much! 

But Isen turned sorrowful eyes to his sister and nodded again. ‘Aye, Bella,’ he said. ‘Your husband is as wise and courageous as he is kind and pitying and gentle of heart. You know very well that Grim values not the heart so much as the outward appearance. Think how it looks! and What ever will they think of us? are words I remember from my earliest days, and I’m sure that you remember such words as well – you had your share of scrapes; and some we shared together, you and I.’ 

‘But—’ Belladonna said. 

Isen was nodding as he spoke. ‘It would destroy me to be locked away, never to see the Sun smiling down, or even if they did let me out to visit her upon occasion, always with hands holding my arms, to keep me from running free, or running away… and all for my own good.’ He dashed away a sudden onslaught of tears, and looked again to Bungo. ‘You have the right of it, brother, and I thank you for loving me, perhaps more than I love myself, even, for I did not see the danger so clearly until this moment.’ 

‘Ah, lad, don’t sell yourself short,’ Bungo said. ‘You saw it clear enough, that day in the great hall, when you begged Gandalf to take you away. I knew then, looking at Isengrim’s face, that you spoke the truth, and your days of freely wandering the corridors were numbered, and once locked away, there’d be no chance… no chance at all.’ 

‘O Bungo!’ Belladonna sobbed, and she rose precipitously from her chair and Bilbo's embrace and hugged her husband fiercely. ‘Surely I don’t deserve someone like you!’ 

‘Surely you don’t,’ Bungo said mildly, and his wife choked on her tears, but then he added, ‘Surely you deserve much better than myself. But I fear that you are stuck with me, Bella darling, for the rest of your days.’ 

‘And glad of it!’ Belladonna said, laughing through her tears. 

‘That calls for a toast, I should think!’ Isen said, holding up a piece of toasted bread, as his teacup was empty. 

‘A toast!’ Bungo echoed, picking up his teacup in one hand and a piece of toast in the other, each of which he proceeded to knock against Isen’s toast in turn. ‘To love!’ 

‘To love!’ the others echoed, and Bilbo seized his own piece of toast from the rack to join the lighthearted moment, knocking it against father’s and uncle’s raised offerings. 

‘(And none of such nonsense, while we’re at the Smials),’ Bungo reminded from behind the hand that held his toast. 

‘I’ll eat to that!’ Isen said, and took a great bite out of his own slice of buttered toast. 

For, as has been mentioned, his teacup was empty. 

***