When the Dwarf Came A-Visiting ~Míriel

Chapter 12 ~An Unusual Welcome

            I settled against the back of the cart and watched the countryside pass by.  Ah, this was the life.  Frodo and I had convinced Bilbo that it wouldn’t hurt to simply take advantage of the free ride home.  Bilbo had declined, saying something about enjoying the thrill of walking onto the road.  He then went off on his speech about ‘stepping out your door and being swept away.’ 

            I had my feet propped upon a sack of potatoes.  I much preferred sitting in the back of the cart with the food, than up front with the driver who was overly anxious to please.

            “Anything I can get you, Mr. Took?” he had asked at least twenty times.

            “No, I am perfectly fine.” I had replied to every such question.

            I had finally opted to sit in the back of the cart.  The driver had been horrified, at first flatly refusing, (such a thing was simply not heard of; the son of a very important Took sitting in the back of a cart!) but later relenting, after my threatening to throw a fit.

            Frodo was sitting in the front of the cart behind us.  I waved at him, and he gave a tired wave back.  Although he was not the son of the Thain, he was still a rich gentlehobbbit, therefore meriting many questions as to his wellbeing.  Being almost of age, he simply couldn’t afford himself the pleasure of sitting in the back of a cart.  Being young did have upsides, after all.

            Suddenly a high-pitched shriek filled the air.  Frodo and I both sat up and strained our eyes ahead.  Bag End was just appearing around the bend.  As it came into view, I noticed the oddest things.

            I did not remember us having the furniture in the yard previously, nor did I remember Bilbo having chickens or a milk cow.  I squinted at this strange sight, until I saw a figure stretched out on the ground.

            “Merry!” I cried, jumping out of the cart.  I ran the rest of the way to the yard.  I could hear Frodo running up behind me.

            When we arrived, Bilbo was standing on one foot while trying to join Sam, who was sitting on the ground next to Merry.  I ran up and knelt on the ground.

            “Sam!  What happened to Merry?!”

            When no one said anything, I looked over at Frodo, who had knelt down next to me.  He checked Merry’s pulse. 

            “He’s alive.  What happened, Sam?”

            “That is precisely what I want to know,” Bilbo said, sounding higher-pitched than usual.

            Sam shook his head.  “I’m not too sure myself...” he said faintly.

            “Well, try!” Bilbo said.

            Sam stood up and scratched his head.  He then vaguely mumbled something about eggs, the furniture, the yard, chickens, and dying.

            We stared at him.

            He shrugged.  “That’s the best that I can do right now.”

            I sighed and looked down at Merry.  His eyes were finally beginning to open.

            Frodo clutched his hand.  “Merry?  Say something, Merry?”

            Merry moaned, and then turned his head and looked around at the yard.  “This isn’t Over-heaven...Oh no!  I’m not dead!”

            I spoke up.  “No, you are not, and why would you want to be?”

            “It’s a long story, Pip.”

            Another voice joined the fray.  “Meriadoc Brandybuck, that had better not be my shirt covered in...Is that egg yolk?!”

            Merry closed his eyes again and moaned.

            Bilbo shook his head.  A chicken hopped up on a chair next to him.  “Shoo!” he said angrily.  The chicken flew away in a flurry of feathers.  Bilbo glared at it for a moment before turning to Sam.

            “Sam?” he said calmly.  I wasn’t sure whether to be thankful that he had stopped yelling, or to be frightened because he was not yelling.

            “Yes?” Sam said in a quavering voice.

            “Kindly take your chickens back to your yard.  And your cow.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “And, Merry, get off of the ground.”

            You don’t argue with Bilbo when he uses that tone.  “Yes, Bilbo,” Merry said, standing up slowly.

            “Please assist Sam in the removal of his chickens and dairy cow.”

            “Yes, Bilbo.”

            Merry scurried after Sam.  They quickly rounded up the hens, which proved easier then you might have thought.  (I personally believe that they were afraid of Bilbo.)

They then took four chickens, one under each arm and set off to the Gamgees.  The dairy cow meekly followed along behind.

            Frodo and I watched solemnly.  I was aware that the carts had now come to Bag End.  Turning around, I saw the drivers finish unloading the foods and supplies.  To my surprise, they had taken it out of the carts and put it onto the ground, just leaving it there.

            “Cousin Bilbo,”

            “Not now, Pippin.”

            “But, Bilbo,”

            “Pippin, I said not now.  Could you please run inside and get me a wet cloth?”

            For the first time I noticed the dung on his foot.  That would explain why he had been standing on one foot this whole time.

            “Certainly, Cousin Bilbo,” I said, staying put.  There was a problem with the carts, and I would stay until it was settled.

            “Good lad.  Frodo, go and make sure that the drivers put the groceries away properly this time.  Last time I couldn’t find the flour in time to make seed cakes.”

            “Yes, Bilbo,” Frodo turned around and stopped, seeing the carts begin to drive away, leaving the groceries on the roadside.

            “Bilbo,”

            “Frodo-lad, are you still here?  I thought I told you—”

            “Bilbo, Bilbo, look, quick!”

            Bilbo turned and saw the carts driving away.  His gaze took in the groceries on the ground, and I saw his face go noticeably pale.  He was motionless for a moment then he took off running.

            “Wait!  Stop!  You’re supposed to bring the groceries in the house!  Stop!”  He ran several yards before remembering his foot; then he began to hop after the carts, one foot lifted comically in the air.  Frodo and I simply watched, realizing the utter futility in running after the carts.

            Bilbo hopped a bit farther, before realizing that it was hopeless.  He then turned around and sadly hopped back, head hung in defeat.

            He hopped over to me and Frodo; foot still lifted, and sat down in the nearest chair. 

            “Bilbo, wait!” Frodo and I said in unison.

            Unfortunately, it was too late.  Bilbo had sat down in the chair, one of the same chairs where the chickens had done their “business.”  Frodo and I winced as he sat.

            All was silent for a moment.  Bilbo closed his eyes for a moment, and silent tears trickled down his cheeks.  His shoulder began to shake, and I was unsure if he were laughing or crying.  I think that he was unsure as well.

            The yard was still, other then a few chickens clucking, and the sound of the carts rolling away in the distance.

Finally, the tears stopped dripping, and Bilbo broke the silence.  “Pippin?”

            “Yes, Cousin Bilbo?”

            “Never you mind about that rag.”

            “Cousin Bilbo?”

            “I think that I am going to need an entire bathtub.”

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Author’s notes: No, you’re off the hook this time.  I have nothing to add to what is written. 

Reviewers: Thank you Hai!

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