When the Dwarf Came A-visiting ~Míriel

Authors note:  In this story, (which told from Pippin’s point of view), Pippin, is 9, Merry is 17, Frodo is 31 and Bilbo is 109.  

            Chapter 1 ~The Trouble with Doors

I will never forget the time when I saw a Dwarf for the first time.  Well, actually, three Dwarves, Bombur, Bifur, and Bofur. 

          It all started one day when I was staying at Cousin Bilbo’s.  Poor Cousin Bilbo quite had his hands full, as Cousin Frodo had invited Merry to stay with them while Merry was in Hobbiton with his family, to which his family was quick to agree.  (No one ever believes me, but he was quite the terror.  I always got blamed for his misdeeds.)  Personally I think his family was glad to be rid of him.  

            And me?  I was there because my darling sister Pearl decided that it would be an excellent time for me to go visiting Cousins Bilbo and Frodo.  I believe that her motives had to do with the fact that with me out of the way, she would have more time to spend with that Bolger fellow that happened to be staying in the Smials at the time. I didn’t mind though, as it worked out splendidly for my benefit. 

             At any rate, we were all there, and I do believe that Cousin Bilbo was quite ready to pull his hair out.  Frodo and Merry were always leaving me to do something else, which rendered me rather bored, and poor Bilbo was left to entertain me while trying to make sure that we lads all had proper meals.  Punctually.  Needless to say, this was not always the case, as several burnt meals and many late ones were the normal fare, much to Bilbo’s chagrin.  Not to mention the constant cleaning of bed-linens, as Bilbo was always strangely particular about his bed-linens.  

            So, about the third day we were there, a rather frazzled Bilbo sat down with a nice cup of tea.  Frodo and Merry were out, having given me the slip soon after luncheon, and would probably not be back until dinner.  I was in a rather docile mood that day, which was highly unusual for me.  It probably had something to do with the fact that I had not had proper sleep for several days, bed-times being a thing unknown here at Bag End.   

            I was sitting comfortably on the floor playing with some wooden figures some kind relation had carved for me, and Bilbo had just sat down with his cup of tea.  He raised it to his mouth to take a sip, when there was a knock at the front door.   

            “Now who could that be?” he muttered.  Casting a longing glance at his cup of tea, (which he would not return to until much later when it was quite cool), he set it down and hurried toward the door.  I followed, curious.  We had not had any callers during our stay here.  Who could it possibly be?  

            Bilbo opened the door, and came face to face with a, well, at the time I was not really sure what it was.  It slightly resembled a Hobbit, yet it was a bit taller than Bilbo, had a lot of hair...on his face! and wore boots.  And there was one other thing that stays prominent in my memory to this very day—he was enormous.  By that I mean very very wide, or well-fed, or was the size of me, Merry, Frodo, Bilbo, and probably several of my aunts (who never miss a meal) put together, and then doubled.  

            Bilbo squinted curiously at the new arrival.  He opened his mouth to speak, but the Dwarf (I was later told what this strange creature was) beat him to it.  

            “Bombur at your service.” The Dwarf said gruffly.  

            “Bilbo Baggins at yours!”  Bilbo said with obvious delight. “Good to see you again!  Come in, come in!” 

            That was when we encountered our first of many problems.  “Coming in” was not quite as simple for Bombur as it might have been for any well fed Hobbit, because (as I already stated) Bombur was quite large, and that’s putting it politely.  

            Poor Bombur tried to come in.  He truly did.  Was it his fault that the door was made for much smaller persons?  Was it his fault that as he came through the door he realized that he could not enter, so he turned sideways?  Now, tell me truly, was it his fault that he did not have the sense to back out of the door before attempting this turn?  Was it his fault that he became stuck?  Was it?  

            Bilbo was becoming quite agitated.  Not only did he have an unexpected guest, this guest could not get through the door!  Now, my mum has taught me very good manners involving guests and hospitality, but I have never ever heard about what to do when your guest becomes firmly lodged in the door, and apparently neither had Bilbo. 

            I was now becoming a bit worried.  Bilbo wasn’t helping matters, as he was running about in little circles crying “Good gracious me!  Whatever shall we do?” over and over.  Bombur tried to pull back out, which only resulted in him becoming more stuck.  Then I believe he started to panic, as he was crying “Get me out!  Get me out!” over and over.  I wasn’t worried about getting the guest out as much as I was worried about getting outside again.  We were beginning to run low on foodstuffs, and Bilbo had been planning a trip to the market tomorrow.  Surely we wouldn’t have to go hungry!  

            I had begun to contemplate an escape out the window when I heard two more voices added to the chaos.  

            “Hoy now!  What’s this?”  I heard Merry exclaim.  

            “A Dwarf!”  I heard Frodo answer, sounding very surprised.  (Well, wouldn’t you be, coming home and finding a Dwarf lodged in your front door?)  

            “Bilbo!  Bilbo, are you all right?”  Frodo called.  

            I don’t believe that anyone but I heard him, as Bilbo continued to run in little circles and shout, and Bombur was still crying to be let out.   

            “Merry!  Frodo!”  I tried to shout over the noise, but it was no use.  Just then I saw Merry’s head appear at the window.  I grabbed a stool and clambered up on it, opened the window and put my arms around Merry’s neck with joy.  Finally, someone was here who always knew what was going on, and what to do about it.  

            “Pip, what is going on in there?” he exclaimed.  

            So much for always knowing everything.  I took a deep breath to begin my explanation, but Merry cut me off.  “All right Pip, out the window with you.  Frodo has a plan.”  

            Ignoring the two panicking adults, Merry carefully pulled me through the window.  I heard Bilbo exclaim “Pippin!  What are you doing?” but it was too late.  With a quick pull I was out the window, flying over Merry’s head, and lying on the grass, dazed.  

            “Pip!  Pip, are you all right?”  

            I sat up and looked sadly at the flowers I had squashed with my landing.  “Sam is going to kill me.” I said mournfully.  

            “Forget Sam, he won’t kill you if I can help it.”  Frodo declared.  “Come on, I have a plan.”  

            Frodo quickly explained his plan, which involved shoving Bombur as hard as we could until he went inside.  

            I gave Frodo a doubtful look.  “Are you sure Cousin Bilbo wants him inside?  He must eat an awful lot to be so large.”  

            Merry nodded.  “And Frodo, what makes you think that we’ll be strong enough to push him inside?”  

            Frodo contemplated that.  “Of course Bilbo wants him inside, Pip, the Dwarf is his friend.  And Merry, I don’t know if we’re strong enough, but it is worth a try.  Anyway” he gave a quick grin; “that’s the best that I could come up with.” 

            Well, that was good enough for us.  Very soon we were standing in front of Bag End staring solemnly at the Dwarf in the door.  For the first time I realized what a blessing it was to have round doors, as opposed to say, a square door, or a triangle!  It made it much easier for the larger of us Hobbits to get inside.  Whoever would have thought that it would be too small for a Dwarf?  

            Frodo surveyed the situation.  “Well, he’s stuck,” he said.  

            Merry snorted.  “No Frodo, we thought that he was happily free.” 

            Frodo ignored Merry and turned to me.  “What do you think, Pippin?  Can we get him un-stuck?”  

            I looked doubtfully at the Dwarf.  “I don’t know, Frodo.  We could try.”  

            Frodo walked over and tapped Bombur on the shoulder, and Bombur stopped struggling.  His face was looking inside of Bag End, so he couldn’t see us.  We could hear Bilbo still frantically shouting inside.  

            “We’re going to push you in.”  Frodo told the back of Bombur.  “Tell Bilbo to move so we don’t accidentally squash him.  

            I could hear Bombur relaying the message to Bilbo.  “Good then.”  Frodo said.  “All right, Merry, Pip, are you ready?”  We nodded.   

            “On the count of three,” Frodo said. 

            Merry, Frodo, and I readied ourselves.  I hoped this would work—what other option did we have?  We could always just starve the Dwarf until he grew thin enough to come out on his own, but—I shook the thought from my head.  This would work.  Frodo always knew what he was doing.  

            “One,” said Frodo.  

            I could see the Dwarf visibly tense.  

            “Two”  

            Bilbo’s muffled “Oh, do be careful,” came from indoors.  

            “Three!”