Written for Marigold's Challenges #44. My adage was: "Too many cooks (or Tooks if I liked) spoil the broth."

Many thanks to Llinos and Marigold for their wonderful editing!

Took Broth

Sam looked around, feeling dazed. He had known there were a lot of Tooks, (wasn’t it usually said amongst other hobbits that they bred like rabbits?) but he had no idea the snide remarks were apparently close to the truth.

He was at the Tooks’ Harvest in Tuckborough, his first time ever at the affair. He had been sent a grand invitation, as the Mayor of the Shire, by The Took and Thain; Pippin’s father Paladin. Sam held tight to Rosie’s hand, suddenly fearful they might get swallowed up by the crowd and never see each other again if he let loose of her.

“Steady on, Sam,” Merry chuckled as he patted his good friend on the back. “I know it’s a shock, but they are only Tooks after all, not Orcs or Ruffians.”

“I know,” came the slightly choked reply. “I just didn’t know as there was so many of them, that’s all. It’s like the whole of Hobbiton is here and then some.”

Merry laughed. “Yes, they seem to do very well at procreation.”

Estella and Rosie each blushed a delightful shade of pink.

“I’d oft heard Took lasses knew how to please their husbands,” Rosie said with a knowing smile.

“As do Hobbiton lasses,” Estella replied, a small sweep of her hand indicating the little Gamgees circling around their mother who held her newest, Merry, in her arms.

The two wives twittered as their husbands blushed. Merry laughed as Sam looked at his wife with his mouth gaping open.

“Come on,” Merry interceded before Sam could say anything that might make matters worse. “Let’s see if we can find Pippin and Diamond in this mass of Tooks. He said he would be watching for us, but I don’t see him anywhere.”

Soon they found the young Took and his wife. They had been wandering about looking for the Brandybucks and Gamgees, which of course prolonged the amount of time it should have taken for the three couples to meet. The wives each had a good amount of coin to spend on the bounty the Tooks’ Harvest offered. They stood chatting with the lads only a few minutes before going off on their own to enjoy each other's company. The three Travellers went off together to peruse booths that were of more interest to them. There were pipe makers and leaf growers, their booths next to each other down one street. Another street in Tuckborough hosted various brewers of ales, along with a booth displaying Buckland Brandy and two that were offering a rather new beverage the Tooks were calling “Tookland Whisky” which was a potent distillate of malted barley.

It happened as the three friends were walking in a lovely field at the edge of town, to ease the buzzing the samples of whisky had brought to their heads, that Sam noticed several hobbitesses keeping watch over four huge cauldrons. Without a word to his companions, Sam began heading in the direction of the cooks.

“No Sam!” Pippin squeaked, grabbing at his friend’s arm to stop him. He sighed and regained his voice as Sam stopped and stared at him. “You mustn’t go over there. ‘Tisn’t allowed.”

“Not allowed?” Sam was weaving from side to side trying to see around Pippin who now stood between him and the objects of his curiosity.

“That’s the Took Broth and no one is allowed near to it until luncheon is announced.”

Sam gestured at two hobbit matrons that were approaching the kettles bearing smaller versions of the huge pots in their hands. “They’re goin’ over there.”

“Well, yes, they are allowed, although if you’ll notice, they are waiting to be acknowledged by the Broth Cooks first, and then they are watched over very carefully as they add their soup to the cauldrons.”

“Add *their* soup?” Sam’s raised eyebrows accented his confused look.

“Yes!” Pippin responded brightly. “That’s the whole point you see. Every household has soup for supper the evening before the Took’s Harvest. Some that travel will even make their specialty in the kitchen at the inn they stay at, so their family is represented.”

Merry was thoroughly enjoying the Mayor’s confusion. Sam held up a hand to stop his young friend.

“You’re meanin’ ta tell me, Pippin, that those cauldrons are full of everyone’s different soups all put together?”

“Aye. Isn’t that what I just said? The only requirement is that all the soups have a broth stock, no cream soups are allowed. Anyway, no one wants to be left out, you see. It’s a bit of good luck to have your soup in the Took Broth. There weren’t always Broth Cooks, as the history of it goes, though no one seems to remember when they were added. ‘Tis said that a long time back some naughty lads, or drunken hobbits depending on which age you are when they tell you the tale, managed to sneak in some ingredients that made the whole gathering of Tooks ill, so ever since the hobbitesses that take the blue ribbons in cookery at the Lithe Day Fair keep watch over the Broth.”

Sam shook his head as he watched another small group of lasses make their way to the cooking area carrying their covered kettles with them.

“And you say they expect people to eat that?” he said, sounding mildly disgusted.

“You oughtn’t have said that Sam,” Merry whispered in Sam’s ear as Pippin’s cheery look dissolved into an offended one.

“Aye people eat it,” Pippin said defensively. “It will be all there is to eat at luncheon. All the vendors and inns close down and everyone comes and shares in the Took Broth. It . . . well it’s . . . It’s a tradition, Sam.”

Suddenly, for one of the few times in his life, Sam was not looking forward to a meal. He knew that as Mayor of the Shire he would not be able to refuse taking part in this obviously cherished Took tradition without it being a terrible insult to The Took and Thain, and all the Tooks in the Tookland.

Merry noticed Sam’s discomfort as the three of them went back to walking around the many booths of the Harvest. He himself had been prepared for the ritual by his mother, Esmeralda (Took) Brandybuck, the first time they had come for the Tooks’ Harvest, and being just a little hobbit lad he didn’t much care what it was as long as he would be fed. Pippin had wandered ahead, so Merry used the opportunity to try to ease Sam’s fears.

“It really tastes wonderful Sam. I’ve had the Took Broth many times over the years. Truly it does taste wonderful.”

Sam could not manage much enthusiasm. “I’m sure it does Merry. Thank you for letting me know that.” In his mind, the Mayor of the Shire could only think that of course it tasted good to a Brandybuck. They were nearly as mad as Tooks after all.

Luncheon time arrived. Estella, Rosie and Diamond had rejoined their husbands and as Pippin and Diamond, Merry and Estella laughed and talked merrily, Sam whispered to his wife what was about to transpire and they exchanged wordless worried looks. The Mayor and his lovely wife had been invited to be next in line after The Took and The Mistress of Great Smials. Pippin’s parents were smiling and gracious as Paladin himself ladled a full serving of Took Broth into Sam's and Rosie’s bowls, Pippin’s sisters having taken charge of the Gamgee children to make things easier for the couple. Then The Took and The Mayor were seated at table together and the lines began moving as all those present were served.

“Eat up, Samwise!” Thain Paladin said as he noticed the young Mayor’s hesitation.

“We’re waitin’ on the other’s,” Sam said quietly, meaning Merry, Pippin and their wives. But that did not buy him much time as they had been next in line and soon they too sat at The Took’s table.

Finally, there was no putting it off and while the Took Broth did have a marvellous aroma, Sam and Rosie both knew that could be deceiving. With one last look at each other, The Mayor and his Lady each took a spoonful of the Took Broth, blew on it, and put their spoons to their lips. Though they were trying hard not to, everyone at the table was anxiously awaiting Sam's and Rosie’s reactions. Slowly, huge smiles grew upon both the Gamgee’s faces.

“This is delightful!” Rosie exclaimed while Sam, too busy supping to say much at all, nodded enthusiastically.

As unlikely as it would have seemed, those four cauldrons fed the entire gathering several helpings each of the mysterious Took Broth. Perhaps, Rosie had whispered to her husband, there was some of the Took faerie magic at work. Sam said nothing to that though he was sure her guess wasn’t very far off the mark. It really was getting to where nothing about the Tooks surprised him any longer.

Soon, the three couples sat upon blankets spread out under a large shady tree. Elanor, Frodo, Rose-lass and baby Merry were already fast asleep. Everywhere one looked, there were hobbits sleeping on blankets, most cradling well filled bellies. Occasionally, one would hear a moan, groan or contented sigh.

“Well,” sighed Sam, patting his own satiated stomach. “I’d always thought too many cooks spoiled the broth. Seems to me now as that old saying was wrong.”

The sleepy adults all chuckled.

“Not when the cooks are Tooks,” Pippin managed to mumble before a belch escaped him causing them all to laugh some more.

“No I reckon you’re right,” Sam said looking around once more at all the full and contented hobbits resting in the large field. “In this case it’s more like too much broth what spoiled the cooks.”

(For Marigold's Challenge #44: My adage was “Too many cooks (or Tooks) spoil the broth.”)

A/N: The idea for this came from something I experienced at a Cub Scout event. Everyone was told to bring one can of soup of any kind they wanted. All of the broth soups were put into one huge pot and all of the cream soups were put into another huge pot. Both soups were wonderful and most everyone, even the children, wanted seconds.