When the Dwarf Came A-Visiting ~Míriel

Chapter 13 ~More Problem Solving

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            Frodo and I sat on the ground, carefully checking to make sure that no surprises awaited us upon the ground.  Satisfied that this was not so, we sat.  Bilbo had surprisingly not moved from his chair, it seemed as if he had simply given into the fact that the world was against him.

            It was only a moment later when Sam and Merry came walking up Bagshot Row.  They stopped, and I could tell that their eyes were taking in the piles of groceries that lay upon the ground, instead of inside our cabinets as they were supposed to be.  Bilbo had paid the cart drivers extra to ensue that they would unload the groceries.  What went wrong, you ask?  I remembered that he had never told the drivers exactly why he was paying them so generously.

            Merry and Sam walked up to us in disbelief. 

            “What happened?”  Merry said, sounding more than a bit shocked.  “It looks like the whole market left the food on BagShot Row!”

            “You forgot again to tell the drivers why you paid them extra, didn’t you, Mr. Bilbo?” Sam said sympathetically.

            “Again?” Merry and I asked in disbelief.

            Frodo spoke up.  “It was only one cart last time.  It wasn’t as hard to simply bring the food into the house and make a note to tell the drivers next time.  This time on the other hand...”

            We all stared at the piles of food.  “Why did you buy so much, Bilbo?” Merry asked, weary at the sight of potential work.

            “Why is there furniture in my yard?” Bilbo responded.

            Merry and Sam were silent.  Then; “I think that I’ll be taking my chickens and heading home.” Sam picked up his chickens and practically flew down the road.

            “Well, Merry,” Bilbo said, walking over to the food in the road, while making sure to wipe his foot on the grass, therefore removing any leftovers from the horse.  We all followed.  “Suppose that you tell us what happened while we bring the food into the house.  By the way, where is Bombur?”

            Merry lifted a sack of flour with a grunt.  “He’s inside, asleep.”

            “He’s asleep?!” Bilbo exclaimed.

            “Yes.  Snoring rather loudly, might I add.”

            “Didn’t he do enough of that last night?” Frodo mumbled.

            “That’s what I said,” Merry replied.

            “Merry,” I piped up, “Why are you wearing Frodo’s shirt?”

            Merry turned and glared at me.  If looks could kill, I would be expecting a nice bottle of rat poison for my next birthday.

            “Yes, Merry,” Frodo said sarcastically, “Why don’t you tell me why you are wearing my shirt and why it is all covered in...?  What is that stuff, anyway?”

            Merry carefully sidestepped a chair, went through the kitchen door that Bilbo had opened, and set the flour in one of the pantries.  Frodo and I followed suit.

            “Egg,” he mumbled.

            “Pardon me?”

            Merry went back out the door to the road, following Bilbo.  Frodo and I jogged to catch up with his quick stride.

            “It’s egg.”

            “How did egg get all over your, nay, my shirt?”

            “Yes, and all over the furniture as well,” Bilbo added as he walked by with a sack of apples.  “Although that could just as well be leftovers from Sam’s chickens.”

            Merry stopped and heaved a humongous sigh, throwing his hands up in the air.  “Fine!  This is what happened!  Sam’s mum heard that we had a guest so she sent eggs and I was sleepy so I flung open the door and Sam fell in and eggs went all over so we moved out the furniture and washed the floor and he forgot to close the door to the henhouse and barn so they got out.”  Merry stopped and took a huge breath. 

            Frodo and Bilbo stared at him.  I looked at him in astonishment.  “You washed the floor, Merry?”

            “Yes!”

            Needless to say, I was quite impressed.  Frodo, however, was not.  “You ruined my favorite shirt.”

            “It will wash out.”

            “You ruined my shirt!”

            “I’m sorry Frodo!”

            “But you ruined my shirt!” Frodo sort of yelled that last part.

            Bilbo stepped in.  “Lads!  Frodo, we can buy you a new shirt.”

            “Not like that one,” he grumbled.

            “Merry, thank you for washing the floor.  It is too bad that we now have to wash the furniture as well, after we get these groceries inside.”  With that, he hoisted another bag of fruit over his shoulder and went inside.

            Merry stared after him.  “That went surprisingly well,” he mused.

            “Merry?” Frodo said sweetly.

            “Yes, Frodo?”

            “When we finish here, I am going to kill you.  Slowly and painfully.”

            Perhaps it was the calm way Frodo said it that made Merry pause a moment before grabbing a sack of potatoes and running.

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            I am not quite sure how much more time passed before we finally brought all of the groceries inside.  It felt like a few days, but Frodo said that it was five hours.  Needless to say, it was dark by the time that we were finally done and inside.  The furniture was still outside; Bilbo had simply sighed and said that we would take care of it if it was still there in the morning.

            Bombur had slept through most of the racket, but had awoken when we stopped for a dinner of apples, cheese, and crackers.

            “I say, friend Bilbo, I thought that you might never return from that market,” he said between bites.

            Bilbo simply nodded.

            Within about ten minutes, it became apparent why Bilbo had needed ten carts full of food.  Between the hungry hobbits and Bombur (Who was like a hole that just went on forever) we probably ate at least a third of one of the carts’ holdings.  I don’t even think that we stopped to take a breath while eating.

            Now, Frodo and I were simply fine with the fruit, cheese, and crackers, but then Bilbo brought out dessert: apple tarts.  Frodo and I took one look at those and groaned, holding our stomachs.

            Merry stopped mid-chew.  “What’s wrong with you two?”

            Frodo shook his head.  “Too many apple tarts earlier,” he said faintly.

            I nodded my agreement.

            It might have been my imagination, but I think that Merry purposely chewed slower and made a point of waving the tart under our noses after that.  Ugh.

            At least they weren’t blackberry tarts.  Those make me itch.

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One problem solved and many more to go!

I have used the word “groceries” in this chapter.  I am not aware of whether or not hobbits used the word, but as I could come up with no better, I have used it.  Also, I am unaware if they had “rat poison,” in the Shire, but I am sure that they needed something to kill the rodents, eh?

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