When the Dwarf Came A-Visiting ~Míriel

            Chapter 10 ~Cleaning House

            Sam hummed merrily as he filled the bucket with water from the well.  Merry grumbled as he found the rags that Bilbo used for cleaning.  Bombur snored as he slept in the front room.  (After all, the best way to forget about hunger was to sleep.)

            Sam came in with the bucket, and Merry was waiting for him with the rags. 

            “What now, Sam?” Merry asked, wishing that he hadn’t fallen asleep earlier.  That should be him at the market, eating the food that Pippin begged from the vendors.  Frodo should have stayed.  It was, after all, his hobbit-hole. 

            “We need to move the furniture so we can wash the floor.”

            “Sam, we’re wiping up egg, not spring-cleaning.  Why must we clean the whole floor?”

            Sam sighed.  “Because the egg got on the whole floor.”

            “Oh.  I see.  Even still, couldn’t we wash around the furniture?”

            Sam put his hands on his hips.  “Now, see here, we are going to clean up this mess so that neither Frodo nor Mister Bilbo knows that anything happened.  We can’t clean it that well unless we move the furniture out of the way.”

            Merry sighed, wishing he could change out of the eggy shirt.  It was sticking to his skin, a positively revolting feeling.  “Fine, have it your way.  Where do we move it?”

            Looking around the kitchen, Sam answered.  “The front room seems the best place for puttin’ furniture.”

            Merry laughed.

            Sam looked at him, confused.  “What do you think is so funny?”

            “Come here,” Merry beckoned.  He led him over to the doorway to the front room and pointed.  The room was completely filled with beds and Bombur.  There was barely room to get in and walk around, let alone place the kitchen’s furniture in it.

            “Oh, I see,” Sam said.  His brow furrowed in thought.  Merry watched him for a moment. 

            “Yes?”

            “I’m thinking,” Sam said in irritation.  He snapped his fingers.  “I’ve got it.”

            “Good,” said Merry; “Now tell me what ‘it’ is.”

            Sam spread his hands out.  “Simple.  We take the furniture and put it in the yard!”

            “In the yard.”

            “Yes.”

            “This yard.”

            “Yes.”

            Merry stared at him.  “What are you, insane?!”

            Sam shook his head.  “No, you see, Mr. Merry, the way I see it is that there is nowhere in Bag End for it to go.  There’s always room outdoors, and it doesn’t look like rain, neither.  It’ll be fine, as long as we put it on the lawn, not the garden.” 

            Merry shook his head.  “I don’t know, Sam,” he said.

            “What other choice do we have?”

            “There’s always denial...”

            Sam went over, picked up and chair, and carried it outside.  Merry sighed and followed suit a moment later.

            Soon all of the chairs and the table were outside.  Sam looked about him in satisfaction.  Merry stood inside, tapping his foot impatiently. 

            “Sometime today, Sam?”

            Sam rolled his eyes and came back inside.  Merry had put soap in the buckets of water, so they were ready to begin.

            Picking up a rag, Sam knelt down on the floor, dipped it in the water and began to scrub the floor.  Merry stood there, watching.

            Sam stopped.  “Well, Merry, aren’t you going to help me?”

            Merry eyed the floor.  He had never washed a floor in his life, and he didn’t relish the thought of beginning now.  “Well...” he said slowly.

            “Here, Merry, I’ll show you,” Sam said.  Merry noticed with amusement that he had dropped the ‘Mister.’

            “Kneel down, like this.”

            Merry slowly knelt onto the floor.

            “Take a rag and put it in the soapy water.”

            Merry slowly put his rag in the water.

            “Put it on the floor and rub in a cir-cu-lar motion.  Do you un-der-stand?” Sam said.

            Merry glared, and Sam held back a laugh.

            Merry then began to scrub the floor.  It wasn’t as bad as it looked; this scrubbing.  One simply had to put their hands in soapy water constantly, rendering them to a prune-like condition, scrub the disgustingly dirty floor, and be on your knees the entire time, which was incredibly painful.  On second thought, yes, this was most definitely as bad as it looked.

            They worked for some time in silence; the only sound was Bombur’s snoring resonating throughout the house.  “Didn’t he get enough snoring done last night?” Merry thought.  He had been up all night because of that snoring.

            Sam spoke several seconds later.  “Is his snoring always as loud as that?”

            “Yes.”  Merry did not feel the need to say more.

            “Oh,” Sam was quiet for several seconds.  Then, “Is there anything we can do to stop—”

            “No!” Merry shouted.  Sam jumped, and stared at Merry in surprise.  “I mean, no,” Merry said softly.  “There’s nothing that can be done, believe me.”

            Finally, in what seemed like hours later to Merry, the floor was shining.  Merry and Sam stood and looked at it in satisfaction.  Merry stretched.  “My arms are sore,” he said.  “And my back, and my knees, and my;”

            Sam interrupted Merry’s complaining.  “Shouldn’t we be getting the furniture back inside, Merry?”

            Reason returned to Merry.  “Yes!  Before Bilbo comes back from the market, then maybe we’ll have a chance to...” his voice faded as he glanced down at his shirt.

            “To what?”

            “Clean my, er, Frodo’s shirt?” Merry looked hopefully at Sam.

            Sam shook his head.  “Oh, no you don’t, Mr. Merry.  You wore Mr. Frodo’s shirt, and you are going to have to decide what to do about it.”

            Merry sighed.  He had thought as much.

            Sam stretched.  “Well, Mr. Merry, shouldn’t we be getting the furniture back in?”

            “Oh! Yes, let’s do that quickly.”

            Merry opened the back door and walked outside.  He took two steps before stopping suddenly.  Sam walked into him.

            “Ow!  Why did you...” his voice faded as his eyes beheld that which was before him.

            It was Sam’s job chore every morning to collect the eggs from the hens and milk the cows.  It was also his job to make sure that the chicken coop and the barn door was also closed after his chores were completed.

            This morning, however, Sam had been so anxious to see the dwarf that was staying at Bag End that he had forgotten to do the latter half of his job.

            “Sam...” Merry said faintly; “Tell me that I’m not seeing...chickens...and a cow...in the yard...on the furniture...”

            Sam could just shake his head.

            Merry moaned in despair.  All the work to clean the kitchen floor, and now they needed to clean the furniture as well. (The chickens had decided that the furniture was a lovely a spot as any to do their, ahem, business.)

            He spread his hands out in front of him.  “No...No...Sam, tell your chickens to clean the furniture.”

            Sam shook his head again.  “I don’t think they can, or else I would.”

            “No, no, no! Sam, has your pony gotten in the yard as well?!”

            Sam studied the ‘horse apples’ that the pony had left.  “Appears that way,” he mumbled.

            Merry was horrified to hear someone begin to cry.

            He was even more horrified when he realized that it was him. 

Does Bag End have a yard?  As I believe that it would be impractical not to have one, I have included one.

Hai-I look forward to your reviews every week.  Your comments are very helpful and give me many ideas.  Thank you!

I shall continue “The Market Saga” in the next chapter.