6 ~ Yule

Today is first Yule in the Shire. Sam and I are headed to the Took Smials to spend it with my family. Sam, of course, had to be talked into coming, as he said it wouldn’t be “proper”. I am beginning to hate that word. I argued that Pippin specifically invited him and it wouldn’t be “proper” to refuse an invitation.

So now the two of us are riding our ponies towards the Smials, both of us silent, thinking.

This will be the first Yule we’ve celebrated in a long while, though at the moment I don’t feel much like celebrating. My duties as Deputy Mayor aren’t that difficult. All I’ve done so far is reduce the number of Shirrif’s, remove the horrid “rules” that first welcomed us home, and tackling about half of a stack of paperwork without making much of a dent in the over all pile. I’m doing all that they’ve asked of me, yet I can’t help wondering if there’s something I’ve overlooked.

I am unsure what Sam is thinking. He has been very busy lately, with the restoring of Hobbiton. They’ve just begun to re-dig the holes along Bagshot Row and fixing up the town. Bywater is mostly fixed as well, and The Green Dragon is scheduled to re-open in a few weeks.

I glance over at Sam, and see that something is troubling him.

“Is something the matter, Sam?” I ask.

He glances up at me, and says, “Well, truth is, I had wanted to have Bag End all fixed up for you as a Yule gift, but it ain’t finished at all yet.”

I smile and chuckle. “Oh, Sam, you are a wonder! I don’t think I’ve ever had a better friend than you!”

Sam blushes. “But ‘tisn’t even finished…”

“It doesn’t matter. At least you thought of it.” I smile at him.

He smiles back, and we urge our ponies into a canter as we come closer to the Smials.

* * *

At the door we are met by Merry and Pippin and their parents, and instantly taken to wash up for luncheon.

“So how was the ride over?” Merry asks as I rinse my hands and step aside to let Sam wash his hands.

“All right. The wind was really bad in Bywater area, though,” I reply taking off my Elven cloak, and unclasping Sam’s as he dries his hands. I am, for once, too hungry to wait for him to finish.

“Let me take those,” Pippin says, taking the cloaks from my hands and heading for the coat rack. “Now, let’s hurry! Aunt Esme said that the food will be served in five minutes, and I for one want to be there.”

I smile and ruffle his red-brown curls playfully.

We follow them into the dining room and seat ourselves around the table as Aunt Esme, Uncle Sara, Uncle Paladin, and Aunt Tina enter the room.

“So glad you could come, Frodo,” Aunt Esme says as she sits down to my right near the foot of the table, where Aunt Tina is seated. “You as well, Samwise.”

“Honored, ma’am,” Sam replies, and I reach under the table to give my aunt’s hand a squeeze.

Esme smiles at me, then glances down the table at her husband as the servants bring out platters of food.

Pippin’s eyes brighten and he rubs his hands together greedily. Merry elbows him and gives him a look and Pippin tried to hold in his enthusiasm.

“I see one of us is eager to begin,” Uncle Sara says, eyeing Pippin with good humor.

Aunt Tina and Aunt Esme giggle.

“I’m sorry,” Pippin replies with a smile. “It’s just that I haven’t eaten since first breakfast and I am rather hungry.”

“Well, then, no need to keep you waiting. Shall we begin?” Paladin says, smiling at his son.

* * *

After luncheon we head for the parlor, and Uncle Sara stops me in the hallway.

“Frodo, could I have a word?” he begins, looking concerned.

I look at him, perplexed. “Is something wrong, Uncle Sara?”

He shakes his head. “Perhaps. I wish to speak to you about something.”

“As you wish,” I say, following him to Uncle Paladin’s study a few doors down.

“What do you want to speak to me about?” I ask.

He motions for me to sit down in one of the chairs in front of the desk and stands beside the desk, leaning against it. “Frodo, you know I love you as a son,” he begins. “And therefore I desire to protect you from harm, no matter how old you are.”

I know this much as he has told me so more than once.

“So I want to tell you that there have been…rumors going around about you,” he finishes, watching me for a reaction.

My stomach sinks. Somehow I knew something like this would happen.

“What kind of rumors, Uncle Sara?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer.