When the Dwarf Came A-Visiting ~Míriel

Chapter 8 ~Hiding and Problem Solving

            Frodo casually rested his elbows against the dressmaker’s cart, trying not to look impatient.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Chubb give that all knowing smile, one I had seen far too many times before.  It was the all knowing smile that a mother gives when she thinks a lad feels something special for her daughter.

            I knew, of course, that that was absurd.  Frodo most certainly did not like Lily.  I had heard him say so himself.  He had told Merry that no matter how pretty she was, any lass that attacked you behind a tent at your own party was one to stay far away from.

            Just then, Frodo’s attempt to be casual was drastically threatened, as she rounded the corner to the cart.  Lily Chubb.  She had long, honey colored hair that fell in perfect ringlets down her back, sparkly brown eyes, and a beautiful complexion.  At least, that’s what Merry said over and over, with much more feeling.  Even I had to admit that she was rather pretty.

            However, that was where my admiration ended.  I’ve never liked her, especially since every time she sees me she says “Dear little Pip,” and pinches my cheeks.  Ick.  I looked up at Frodo.  He had gone very, very pale.  What was he thinking?

            I didn’t have to wonder long.  “Hide, Pip, quick!” he hissed, yanking me under the cart with him.  The cloth that hung over the edge of the cart was just long enough that it would hide us, unless someone looked down.

            I watched Lily’s feet walk toward the cart.  They stopped right in front of our noses.

            “Hullo, Mum!” she said excitedly.  “Mum, I just saw Bilbo Baggins over by the food carts!  Have you seen Frodo?”

            “Yes, he’s...” Mrs. Chubb paused, and I’m sure that she was looking around in pure confusion.  “Now, the lad was here a moment ago.  Where could he have gone?”

            Lily gasped.  “He was here?  At our cart?”

            “Yes, he was.  And, Lily,” Mrs. Chubb’s voice dropped into a whisper, “He was holding a white flower.”

            “A white flower?!  Mum, do you think?”

            “I do, dear Lily.”  She sighed dramatically.  “I think perhaps that ‘come next spring...’”

            Lily finished the rest of old courting song.* “‘...there will be a wedding.  Come and pluck the goose for the feather bedding, singing hey, my laddie ho!’  A wedding, Mum!  Mine!” she said.  She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet as she said this. 

            Frodo groaned next to me.  “I will, never, ever, marry you, Lily Chubb.” he whispered in disgust. 

            I breathed a sigh of relief as he said this.  Thank goodness! 

            Unfortunately my sigh of relief somewhat louder then I anticipated.  Lily stopped hopping up and down.  “What was that?” she said.

            “What was what?” her mother replied.

            “I heard something.  I think it came from under the cart.” 

            Frodo elbowed me hard in my side.  I couldn’t see his face, but I’m sure that he was glaring at me as well.

            Next thing Frodo and I knew we were eye to eye with Lily.  She stared at us open-mouthed for a moment before letting loose an ear-piercing scream.  What made it even more painful to my ears was the fact that Frodo and I were screaming too.

            Bag End was very quiet.  Much too quiet.  The only sound that could be heard was the dripping of egg yolk. 

            Bombur was the first to break the silence.  “Well, Mr. Gamgee, I don’t believe in wasting food.”

            Sam’s face fell.  “I’m right sorry, I am, Mr. Bombur, it was an accident...”

            Bombur waved his arm.  “No, those things happen.  What do you think that we should do now?”

            “Go back to bed and pretend that this is all a bad dream?” Merry offered.

            Sam regarded him with a look of bewilderment.  “And then what will you say when Mr. Bilbo comes back from the market?”

            Merry was ready for that.  “Egg?  What egg?  I see no egg.”

            “And the fact that there’s evidence all over the floor means nothing,” Bombur said dryly.

            “It wasn’t my fault!” Merry said defensively.  The whole world was against him today.

            Sam caught on.  “And you won’t be placing the blame on me, Mr. Merry!  You shouldn’t have flung open the door!”

            “And you shouldn’t have been leaning against it!”

            “I wouldn’t have been if you didn’t take so long to get to the door!”

            “You still didn’t need to lean on it!”

            “And” Sam stopped and stared at Merry.  “And you shouldn’t be gettin’ Mr. Frodo’s shirt all full of egg!”

            Merry groaned mentally.  Frodo was going to kill him.  He knew that.  Truly, was it necessary for Sam to remind him? 

            Bombur cut in before Merry had a chance to yell at Sam again.  Bombur was still in the front room, unable to enter into the kitchen, thus feeling the need to shout everything he said.  “Now, see here lads, this isn’t as bad as you may think.”

            Merry laughed.  Not as bad as we might think?  “Bombur, I am covered in egg, wearing Frodo’s favorite shirt without permission, not to mention that the floor and the furniture are also covered in egg.  What part of this is not as bad as we might think?!”

            Bombur regarded him solemnly.  “Well, with a little salt, if we cooked you, you probably would taste pretty good.”

            Sam burst into a fit of laughter, quickly turning it into a cough as Merry turned and glared at him. 

            “You are not helping, Sam.”

            “Sorry, Mr. Merry.  But the only thing that I think that would help this, er, situation, is quite simple.”

            Merry sighed.  He longed to be back in bed, to have his head cradled in the soft down of the feather pillows, and to be in the peaceful realm of sleep.  Not here, where he was covered in fast drying egg yolk (which he could feel drying up his skin as well) and with a dwarf, the overly cheerful Sam, and no elevenses or luncheon, nor hope of getting any.  That hoped had been cracked with the eggs.

            “What solution, Sam?”

            Sam shrugged.  “Way I see it, the only thing to do is to clean up this mess.”

            That most certainly did not fit in with Merry’s plan to go back to bed.  “Well, Sam,” Merry said, edging toward the hall, “That is an excellent idea.  I shall go change and take a bath, while you see to—”

            Sam interrupted him.  “No, Mr. Merry, I think it would be best if you helped me clean while you are still dirty.  That way you only need to take a bath once, right Mr. Bombur?”

            He nodded.  “Yes, you lads do that.  I shall go lie down; I’m feeling a bit faint.  I’ve never missed this many meals, not even when we were under the mountain, there we at least had cram...” his voice faded as he went back into the front room.

            Sam smiled cheerfully at Merry.  “Well then, where should we begin?”

            Merry muttered something along the lines of “Well, after I kill you...”

            “What was that, Mr. Merry?”

            Merry sighed.  This was going to be a very long day.  “Nothing, Sam.”

*Old Courting Song taken from the Shire Songbook by Lindelea.