Author's note: Earlier chapters have been revised to correct a flaw in the timeline of the original version. The author's notes in the prologue and chapter 25 provide an expanded explanation if one is needed.

Chapter 35. Homecoming

Whether Isengar had developed a keen weather sense in his wanderings that enabled him to predict travelling conditions with remarkable accuracy, or whether the little family simply continued to enjoy a span of good luck, in any event, the rest of their journey was uneventful, just as Shire-folk prefer. 

The hired driver was not quite so sanguine, however, as he pulled up his ponies on the stones of the yard before the Great Smials. A few snowflakes were drifting on a light breeze, and it seemed he was taking no chances with the weather.

'No – many thanks, but no, I'll not be stopping overnight!' he called to the stable hobbit who'd emerged to take hold of the lead ponies. 'We'll just unload the baggage as quickly as may be, and I'll be on my way...'

'Ye'll not drive through the night!' the stable hobbit protested.

'I've lanterns,' the driver replied – the finest to be found in the Shire, as a matter of fact, with cleverly mounted mirrors to project light in a way that illuminated the road ahead. When it came to the comfort and safety of his family, Bungo did not stint on the cost. 'And it's early, yet,' he said, belying the early winter darkness that would soon descend on the land.

Even as he spoke, the driver hopped down from his high seat and put the step in place for his passengers' convenience in stepping down safely. As Bungo exited the coach and turned to help Bella down, Bilbo heard the stable hobbit's warning that the foursome of handsome ponies ought to rest overnight before beginning the return journey, and the driver's pleasant but firm reply. 

Inside the coach, Isen gave his nephew a conspiratorial wink. 'Doesn't want to risk being trapped in the Green Hill country by snow and having to pay for food and shelter for himself and his ponies,' he whispered. 'Tooklanders have little use for fancy conveyances, there being no roads to speak of, and the Thain has his own coach and driver which – if things haven't changed – seldom see the light o' day. So any business poor Jemison finds here is more likely to empty his pockets than to fill them.'

Bilbo's young uncle then got up from his seat, put his head out the door, and spoke in a normal tone to Bungo, standing just outside the coach. 'P'rhaps we can help unload the baggage so that he can be on his way more quickly?'

To Bilbo's surprise, his father's reply rang with unfamiliar sternness. 'They have servants for that here, brother!' And then Bungo turned to address the stable hobbit, calling crisply, 'Hi! What manner of greeting is this? What's taking so long? Look sharp now, my good fellow!'

'Sorry sir!' came the answer. 'They're coming now... Make haste, you slowcoaches! Ye'r keepin' the gentlehobbits waiting!'

Isen nodded wisely and turned back to Bilbo, putting his hand to the side of his face and whispering. 'I see the way of it now... Your Uncle Grim is leading the welcoming committee that has just issued from one of the lesser doors, and your good old dad is playing to the crowd!'

Bilbo chortled and put his hands over his mouth to stifle the unseemly sound from any possibility of reaching the ears of the approaching greeters, with their solemn expressions and dignified bearing. The tween was familiar with the rather vulgar phrase, "playing to the crowd", associated with wandering entertainers – typically Men – who travelled from one place to another around the Shire during the warmer months, timing their visits with each town's market day. Whether minstrel, storyteller, puppeteer, juggler or cheap conjurer, these individuals earned their living from the coins their spectators tossed at their feet. Thus, they often employed loud but comical voices and exaggerated gestures to garner as much attention from the market-goers as possible. Many incorporated obvious puns and word-plays into their spiel, along with ridiculous humour – for example, some emphasised the "natural" clumsiness that Hobbits expected from Men, tripping over their feet and nearly falling, dropping items, or colliding with nearby objects, their antics explicitly designed to elicit laughter. As an added benefit, laughter tended to draw in the curious as well as keep the crowd entertained and in a good mood, resulting in a tidy sum when all was said and done.

'Come along now, nephew,' Isen said now, taking hold of Bilbo's shoulder and guiding him towards the opening.

With appropriate (or so the tween hoped) dignity, Bilbo played his part. Rather than proclaiming that he could manage perfectly well by himself, he placed his hand in Bungo's and stepped down with decorum, then moved to Bella's side and took her arm. 'Mother,' he addressed her, unsmiling.

'Son,' Bella returned, equally dignified – even haughty, which was so unlike herself that Bilbo had to give himself a stern talking-to in order to keep from smiling and spoiling the play.

Behind them, Bilbo could hear the bustle of hobbits who were rapidly unburdening the coach of its baggage – enough for a month-long visit, and so it amounted to a prodigious quantity of boxes and trunks. The refined voice of an upper servant was shouting directions, including, Gently, mind you! If a single breakable is damaged, it'll come out o' your wages! Bilbo certainly hoped nothing would be broken. If anything among his things should come to grief, he resolved he would keep the matter to himself.

'Isengar?' Bungo said, helping hand extended.

'Thank you, brother,' Isen said in an affected way, as pompous as Uncle Hildigrim at his snootiest. He gently put aside Bungo's hand, then planted his walking stick and stepped down, the very picture of dignity and grace. Then Isen moved to stand between Bungo and Bella, striking an elegant pose.

The welcoming party reached them at last, with Isengrim leading the charge. At this time of day, the Thain was probably in his study conducting business. Upon being informed of the arrival, Gerontius had likely sent Isengrim out to receive them with appropriate pomp and circumstance.

'Bungo!' the eldest son of the Old Took said with carefully calculated heartiness. 'How good of you to come and bring my dear sister to gladden the heart of her mother at this festive time!' 

'Isengrim,' Bungo said with a nod. 'As always, I am glad to be able to treat my beloved to a good long visit with her parents and brothers and sisters. Though I provide her with every comfort money can offer, nothing can quite compare to the Tookland.'

'Quite right,' Isengrim said, obviously gratified. He even smiled at Bilbo. 'Why, young Bilbo, welcome and glad Yule to you! I do think you might be a little taller than you were when you last were here!'

'Thank you, Uncle Isengrim,' Bilbo said politely. 'It's very kind of you.' At a subtle nudge from his mother, he hastily added, 'Glad Yule to you as well!'

Isengrim put out his hand to Belladonna, who placed her hand in his palm and allowed herself to be drawn forward, saying, 'Isengrim, how lovely that you came out to greet us upon our arrival! I'm quite touched...' She stood on tiptoe to administer the suggestion of a kiss on each side of her brother's face and then, assuming a serene expression, said, 'But I do hope we've come in time to freshen up before tea...'

'You are in very good time, sister,' Isembard said from behind Isengrim. 'Baths will be ready when you reach your guest quarters, and fresh clothes laid out for your convenience...' (For clothes that have been folded in trunks must be hung up to air for a day, to be fresh and unwrinkled before they are suitable to be donned by gentlehobbits, as everyone probably knows.)

Though Bella maintained her "proper" expression – cool, collected, pleasant, serene – her eyes sparkled as she greeted her next-older brother, and Bilbo could detect genuine warmth in her voice as she said, 'Bard, how nice to see you.'

But Isengrim, a puzzled expression on his face, was addressing Bungo. 'But where is my youngest brother? Is he unwell? Did you have to leave him home, er, I mean, in Hobbiton, under the care of a healer or keeper or some such?'

Isengar cleared his throat gently. Grim, whose eyes had passed over Isen and dismissed him as, perhaps, a bodyservant that Bungo had brought along, now took a closer look. 'Isengar?' he said incredulously. 'It cannot be...!'

Isengar loosened the muffler around his neck, affording his eldest brother a better look at his countenance. 'Is this some sort of jest?' he said politely, ignoring the narrowing of Isengrim's eyes on seeing the fading scar his eyepatch had previously hidden. To cover a momentary feeling of uncertainty, he looked down at his coat and flicked away an imaginary speck of dust. 'Of course it is I! Who else would I be?' Then he held up his gloved hand to forestall any answer Isengrim might have cared to offer. 'Forgive me, brother,' he said, 'for asking such a question, bordering on whimsy, I fear. Most unbecoming.'

Forgetting dignity, Isengrim stammered, but the arrival of the Mistress of the Tooks rescued him from the need to find the proper phrase to grace the moment.

'Belladonna! Bella-love!' Adamanta cried, rushing forward to embrace her daughter.

Bella, despite her resolve to maintain her dignity as part of the plan that Bungo and Isengar had worked out, returned her mother's hug with enthusiasm. 'Mum!' she cried, eyes filling with joyful tears.

She started to step back but then was immediately moved to take Adamanta's arm to steady her. For all colour fled from the mother's face on beholding her youngest son, and it seemed that she might swoon at any moment.

Isengar and Isengrim moved in almost the same instant to support the fainting hobbit, nearly colliding in their haste. However, Isengar quickly shifted to one side, avoiding a spill. He eased a supporting arm around his mother and kissed her cheek. 'All's well,' he whispered. 'All is well, Mum.'

'You've come back!' Adamanta sobbed, turning away from Isengrim and throwing her arms around her long-lost son. 'You've come back to me! You've come back home at last!'

'All is well, Mum, truly,' Isengar assured his mother, patting her back.

Only Bilbo saw the thunderous expression that crossed Isengrim's face, to be quickly replaced by a "proper" welcoming smile, and his pulse quickened as if in response to some unspoken warning.

***