Chapter 5, The Destiny of One

Frodo and the ladies had settled upon the couch or in chairs inside the parlour of Paladin’s residence. A tea tray with teacups, saucers, honey, milk, bread, butter, and cheese lay upon the tea table in the centre.

“Do you get many visitors at Bag End, Frodo?” Eglantine asked.

“Only the ones I invite,” he chuckled. “No, I’m afraid that the name of ‘Mad Baggins’ has been applied to me of late. No one would dare enter a cracked hobbit’s home.”

“I would!” announced Pervinca, and with not a little enthusiasm. Then added quickly, “Not that I think you’re cracked.”

“Vinca!” Pimpernel nudged her younger sister.

“Well, he isn’t!” Pervinca ignored the reproach and forged on. “But why do they say such things?”

Quite amused, Frodo held his smile in check with the aplomb of a true gentlehobbit. “Because I continue to honour Bilbo on our birthday. Pippin can recount to you the stares I received after drinking to Bilbo’s health out in the garden this past Halimath.”

“Goodness, I hope not dear old Sam--he’s always been so kind to you,” said Pervinca. Her older sisters merely rolled their eyes at her making a fuss over their cousin. “Stop nudging me, Pimmie!”

Frodo stole a glance at Eglantine who was blushing crimson by now, and nearly lost his composure in laughter. “Um...no, not dear Sam, Vinca. The stares come from the unimportant neighbours much further down the lane who matter not.”

Frodo had known for years that Paladin’s youngest daughter had developed a crush on him long ago, and he could even pinpoint when it most likely occured. The young bachelor took it all in stride and entertained his young cousin’s interest, feeling that the seventeen year gap was quite safe. Moreover, her sisters or mother would often step in if the lass became too overwhelming.

“All right, ladies,” Eglantine stood up and set her teacup on the tray. “I can see Mavis from here taking her cart into the dining room to up for luncheon. You all know the routine--just because we have a parlourmaid doesn’t mean you don’t have chores. Pearl and Pimpernel will help Mavis set the table while Pervinca returns this tea tray to the kitchen.”

“What if the Thain catches me doing work?” This had happened before; also, Pervinca wasn’t too sure she was finished with Frodo’s inquisition yet.

Eglantine placed her hands on her hips to show she meant business. “Then you can tell him to come see me! Now march, young lady.”

“Yes, Mother,” the teen replied dutifully, doing as she was told. Once Pervinca stacked the teacups and saucers on the tray, she set it on the cart Lilly had brought in earlier then disappeared into the hallway.

“Oh, Frodo--I am so sorry! One day you will become a cracked hobbit if that child doesn’t leave you be.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Cousin Tina,” said Frodo, taking a turn about the room to stretch his legs. “In a few years, she’ll notice a nice young lad her own age and forget all about me.”

“I do hope you’re right about that--though not to forget you,” said Eglantine, “However, we ought to be careful speaking such things in Paladin’s presence--about lads courting his beautiful lasses, especially his Sweet pea--”

Eglantine interrupted herself when the sound of giggling entered the hallway outside. The giggling was unmistakeably Pippin’s.

Frodo grinned, placing a finger to his lips for secrecy, then hid himself behind the parlour door.

“I do like her oatmeal biscuits--with raisins, and her sugar biscuits are delicious, too. However, I like her shortbread the best!” Pippin stated emphatically as he stepped through the door.

“Haaaa!” Frodo jumped out from his hiding place.

The young biscuit-connoisseur let out a yelp as he felt the breath leave his body. Pippin turned round to look at his assailant, and then gleefully jumped into his arms. “Frodo!”

“Oy, Pippin!” Frodo grunted with the weight of his cousin, then fell back onto his bum. “You’re not the little laddie you used to be!”

“I’ve grown since you last saw me on your birthday!” Pippin said while sitting atop his cousin. “You’re here for my graduation, aren’t you? When did you get here?! Is Merry with you? No, I suppose he isn’t or he’d be here trying to attack me as well.”

“I got here about an hour ago,” Frodo answered while allowing Pippin to help him up. He dusted off his breeches then added, “I’ve been sitting in here waiting for you, you goose! And no, I’m just as sorry that Merry isn’t here with me. That way he could have been the one to land on his bum.”

“Well, you’re just in time to eat lunch with us,” said Pippin, then grinned. “Typical Baggins! Always on time for a meal.”

“Pippin, don’t waylay your cousin with a hundred questions at once,” said Eglantine. “Entertain your guests in here while I help the lasses prepare the dining room.”

As Eglantine passed by, Frodo observed another young lad standing near the doorway who appeared to be a couple of years older than Pippin. He looked familiar to Frodo in that he’d seen this lad wandering the tunnels on previous trips to Great Smials to visit other cousins. “And who might this be, Pippin?”

“Allow me to introduce to you, Mister Degger Greenhill,” Pippin announced to his cousin with pretentiousness. “Soon-to-be graduate of Hemlock Academy.”

“At yer service, Mr. Frodo,” Degger responded with a smile and a bow.

“And I at yours,” replied Frodo, also bowing. “So you’re Degger!”

“Aye, sir, I am,” said Degger, his eyes darting from Pippin to Frodo. “Am I in trouble, sir?”

“No, although Pippin has spoken of you while visiting at Bag End,” said Frodo, then quickly added with a smile, “good things, of course! However, I had never been able put the name to a face--until now. I’ve seen you round Great Smials as a server, have I not?”

“Aye, sir, ye have,” Degger acknowledged the claim without shame. “I have served Mr. Adelard and his family at one time or another, but mostly I worked in the kitchen.”

Degger didn’t mind serving Adelard’s family one bit--they treated him nicely and Everard was the one who initially taught Degger his letters and sums. Degger also had the occasion to serve other members of the Took clan living within Great Smials...and at times wasn’t treated nicely at all.

Frodo nodded in recognition. “Yes--visiting Reggie at his Coming-of-age party is where I recall seeing you, although I don’t know how your name has escaped me.”

“We weren’t properly introduced, sir, if ye get my meanin’. I was servin’ at Mr. Reggie’s party. ’Tisn’t a common name, anyway, sir,” Degger replied. He figured Nick, Bob, or even Harry would be easier names to remember his own.

“Precisely my point,” stated Frodo. He held out his right hand, offering it in friendship. “But I am very pleased to finally make your acquaintance. And very well done, if I might add, for achieving your goal. I’ve heard how diligent you’ve worked.”

Degger took Frodo’s hand and shook it. “Thank ye, sir. Mr. Merry had a lot t’ do with it. We’ve not gotten word if I’ve passed my final exam, so I’m not graduated just yet.”

“I have much confidence in my cousin’s ability to tutor you,” Frodo encouraged the teen. “Merry is a very bright lad.” He pulled Pippin close and then tousled the honey-brown curls, “And with my other clever cousin, passing exams is quite simply his strong suit.” Frodo spoke to Pippin teasingly, “You didn’t even open the book, I’ll warrant!”

“I did so!” Pippin countered. “You were there Degger--tell him.”

Degger smiled, a gleam of mischief in his brown eyes. “Indeed I was there, Mr. Frodo,” he said. “I cannot deny that Mr. Pippin did open up his book...an’ then close it again. Mr. Pippin was tryin’ to recount from mem’ry a poem he had written for Mr. Merry last spring when he thought he heard his dad’s voice outside o’ his door. He used the book to hide his poetry.”

Frodo gave a disparaging glare to his cousin. “Why would you want to hide your poetry, Pippin?”

“Because I wrote it for Merry.”

“Why for Merry?”

Pippin gave no answer, giving Frodo his most innocent look.

“You naughty little hobbit--using your study book to hide your smutty poetry!” Then Frodo gazed about, ensuring there weren’t any lasses present in the room. “Let me read it later!”

* * *

Meanwhile, at the further end of the tunnel that belonged to Paladin’s family...

Paladin rushed through the inner private entrance of his tunnel toward the family dining room trying his best not to be late for his own meal. He and Tina were adamant about punctuality at meals, and taught their children the same, therefore, they were just as firm about setting the example.

Paladin’s tunnel was a good-sized burrow located on the main level in the north wing across from the Took and Thain’s enormous dwelling. On the outer side, or the side with windows looking out into the north-west garden, was a parlour, the master bedroom, and six smaller bedrooms--and each bedroom was divided into two smaller rooms; the actual bedroom and a sitting room to entertain private guests. On the inner side, the side whose solid walls were shared with an inner hallway in the north wing, encompassed the dining room with double doors made of rich walnut wood and long oval stained-glass windows. Further down the hall was Paladin’s private study, a mathom room, privy, bathing room, and a small auxiliary kitchen. Both the parlour and dining room were on the northern tip of the tunnel facing outside, so each had a window facing the north garden.

Breathless from his jaunt through the tunnels, Paladin quickly slipped inside his and Eglantine’s bedroom to rid himself of the burden he carried this past hour. He let his cloak and topcoat fall over the back of a settle then placed the brown sack in the seat of the same. He stood staring at that sack for a good long second before coming back to the present, making haste toward luncheon.

“Frodo! You’ve made it!” he said as he took his seat at the head of the dining table. “I trust your trip was uneventful?”

“Unfortunately, Cousin” Frodo remarked dryly.

Paladin smiled; good old Bilbo had left his mark in his adopted heir. Gazing about at the lovely faces of his family, Paladin softly spoke his customary blessing upon the meal. “Let us always remember to be thankful for the bountiful harvest upon our table.” With that, the meal commenced.

Platters were passed about the table, and conversation was minimal during the initial plunge. Paladin heard none of it; his thoughts were on things of a grave nature. Eglantine noticed her husband’s taciturn mood.

“What is on your mind, my dear?” she asked discreetly, in a whispering tone.

Paladin paused before lifting a forkful of potatoes to his mouth. He replied likewise, “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

Eglantine gave her beloved a wry grin. “Because I know you too well, love. Something is bothering you.”

Paladin bought time in his reply by taking a sip of his water, then he relented to her guess. He had to admit to himself that he needed to speak with someone quick about what he’d learnt this morning or burst. “I need to speak with you after luncheon--alone.”

Her husband’s remark concerned Eglantine. “Does it have anything to do with our son?”

Paladin shook his head, trying not to draw the attention of their children and guest.

Eglantine raised her eyebrows in surprise, also taking a sip of water. “Very well, then.”

* * *

“What is all of this secrecy about, Paladin?” Eglantine asked her husband as he softly but firmly closed the door to their bedroom, shutting out all distracting noise. She sat upon a soft chair near to the settle where Paladin left his things.

Paladin took the sack and emptied it, lining three oblong wooden boxes upon the tea table.

Eglantine studied the identical boxes. “Which one is Pervinca’s gift?”

“This one,” said Paladin, opening the box on the far left. He hastily opened it and then shut it, quickly laying it off to the side.

“Paladin!”

“All right, Tina,” he said, “but if I don’t tell my tale soon I’m going to climb the walls!” He again reached for the box made of a light-coloured wood and opened it more slowly for his wife to view.

Brushing aside his petty outburst for the moment, Eglantine gasped at the sight of a lovely gold necklace upon black velvet with a gold tear-shaped pendant that held a citrine gem. “It’s beautiful, Paladin! She’s going to love it--her birthstone made into a necklace. Her first real piece of jewellery.” Eglantine felt her eyes welling with tears.

“Yes, that’s nice, dear.” Paladin gently pried Pervinca’s gift from his wife’s hand. “We can sit in here later and weep over our youngest daughter growing up, but right now I have very pressing news.”

“Paladin! What could be more pressing than our children?”

“This!”

Eglantine leaned forward to see inside the remaining two boxes better. Both boxes contained a silver pocket watch upon black velvet, and an artful design etched upon the lid of each watch. Eglantine instantly recognised the watch with the eagle in flight; the other, a duck floating in a pond.

“I thought you said Degger’s watch was repairable?”

“It was,” Paladin answered. “What you’re looking at is Degger’s watch--we’ve just never seen it with a lid before.” He next opened the decorative lid of each pocket watch, revealing the same respective design on the face of the watch in a hand-painted likeness. On the inside of the lid of one pocket watch was inscribed, ‘Hildigrim’, the other had no such inscription. “Do you notice the differences in the handiwork of the lids?”

“Only that your grandfather’s name appears on yours,” Eglantine said, then looked closer at the pair. “Now I see it--yours has more depth to the eagle and its wings. The other doesn’t; in comparison, it almost looks as if it’s made from a poor quality metal.”

Paladin looked at his wife, “That poor-quality metal is actually a superior quality silver. My grandfather’s watch is made of mithril...and so is the other watch.” Paladin waited for his words to sink into his Tina’s head, but the blank expression on her face told him otherwise.

“You see,” he elaborated, “both of these watches are made from the same material--mithril. The lid on Degger’s watch has been lost to who knows where and when. Mr. Tooter did the best he could on such short notice. A proper replacement lid is being ordered from the Misty Mountains--where the Dwarves live.”

If the situation wasn’t so dire, Paladin would have laughed; Eglantine’s mystified features mirrored that of his own just three hours ago when Robin Tooter told him of the find. It was this discovery that prompted Mr. Tooter to ask Degger the day before as to how his father came to possess the watch.

Slowly Eglantine gathered her wits to formulate her response. “What you’re saying, is that both watches are made of the same metal inside and out, aside from the individual designs on the lids and the faces, they’re essentially identical and were made by the same craft-hobbit--or craft-person.”

Paladin’s face lit up. “Yes!”

Eglantine’s face changed from confused to concern. “But Paladin, that isn’t entirely impossible. I know Mr. Tooter is a jeweller, so he ought to know what mithril looks like, but...what if the watch was given to Degger’s father--or he purchased it second-hand. Have you considered that?”

“To some degree, yes, Tina.” Eglantine’s sobering reaction did not erase the sparkle in Paladin’s eyes. “However,” he continued, “the fact is that there are not many mithril pocket watches in the Shire--or Buckland. They’re simply far too expensive--they must be ordered special in a faraway place, and made according to the customer’s specifications.

“I met with Addie in the common room prior to luncheon--which is why I was running behind schedule, and I am on my way to his apartments right now. I want to let him in on this secret so that we both can work this out together. Tina--you mustn’t tell a soul until I say it is all right to do so--especially do not tell Degger. When the time comes, he will be the first to know.”

“Well, I hope you and Addie work quickly and thoroughly,” said Eglantine. “The ceremony is on Highday. Degger will be expecting to pick up his watch at the jeweller’s shop the following morning.”

Paladin thought more on that issue. “Then I suppose we’ll have to break the news to him sooner when I give them their gifts before the ceremony. I would not give a gift to Pippin and Vinca, and none to Degger. He’s worked very hard to get to this point.”

“And in spite of Cousin Ferumbras,” Eglantine pointed out.

“Oh, Tina!” Paladin sank onto the couch. “I almost did the unforgivable when I saw him in the common room. He insulted me right in front of Addie and Ferdinand. I was so angry--I started to go after him to punch him in the face, but fortunately, Addie stopped me.” He looked at his beloved for confirmation that he wasn't starting to crack.

“That’s dreadful!” said Eglantine with dismay. “You’re right--that is so unlike you, Paladin.”

“Tina, why do I feel such anger toward that hobbit? It never bothered me before when Ferumbras insulted me. Insulting my wife and children is one thing--but I should be able to ignore his childish remarks against me. When did my anger grow so strong toward him?”

Eglantine rose from her chair to sit beside her husband on the couch. “You have to admit, Paladin, that Ferumbras has put you under a great deal of strain since the summer,” she replied. Eglantine sat beside her beloved, lovingly combing his curls with her fingers. “You don’t have to do this, love,” she whispered. “We can always go back to Whitwell.”

“No...,” said Paladin, turning his weary eyes to his wife. “No. We can’t--I can’t. We both know that Pippin is a very bright lad--that farming will satisfy him for only so long before his nose twitches for something more. He is destined for more.”

Looking into Paladin’s deep green eyes, Eglantine took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “I will be by your side no matter what happens. I love you, Paladin.”

When she spoke those words to him, Paladin leaned in to tenderly kiss his wife. “I love you, too.” He stood to his feet then kissed her lovely head, speaking softly. “I must go now--Addie is waiting.”

* * *

The entire apartment was quiet; even if a mouse were to tiptoe across the floor, it would have sounded like a heard of oliphants to Paladin. Not that he had ever heard an oliphant stomp over land. The fact was, oliphants were a figment of children’s tales.

Paladin sat upon the edge of the soft, padded chair in the parlour of Adelard Took’s quarters waiting expectantly for his cousin’s reply to the same news he gave Eglantine. Addie sat in his own padded chair as he watched the dancing flames in the hearth reach up toward the chimney flue. Initially, Paladin saw the familiar look in his friend’s face--the one that was about to tell him he was cracked. Now, however, it appeared pensive. Paladin was well acquainted with that expression as well; it meant perhaps that Addie was truly considering his theory. Finally, Addie took out his pipe and began to fill it with pipe-weed from his pouch.

Paladin was desperate to know his cousin’s opinion on the matter and felt he could wait no longer. “Well?”

Addie finished lighting his pipe with the flint and tinder. At length, he blew out a few puffs of smoke before answering his younger cousin. “You are asking much of me to believe everything you’re proposing.”

“Asking much of you? Whatever do you mean? The evidence speaks for itself.”

“Evidence is manifested in hundreds of ways, Paladin,” said Adelard. “Have you considered any of those?”

“I have considered other possibilities--like how a penniless hobbit from Michel Delving might come upon a pocket watch made of mithril--and it’s not making sense, Addie.”

“Do you suppose it was stolen from its owner?”

“If Degger was prone to small acts of pinching, then I might have taken that approach. I would have already guessed that perhaps his father’s habits had been passed down to him. But for as long as I’ve known Degger, even when he lived with me for a short time at Whitwell, he’s never taken anything without permission.”

“What if his father purchased it from another hobbit that was desperate for money?”

“I hardly think that the owner of a mithril pocket watch would suddenly become so severely impoverished to sell his most valuable possession to a hobbit of much lesser means--to a hobbit who can barely put food on the table and who most certainly doesn’t have the money worth its price. That would undoubtedly be a scandalous act--the poorer hobbit taking food from the mouths of his children and giving it to a pocket watch! Furthermore, I should think that the owner of the mithril pocket watch would not resort to taking money from a poor hobbit like that with the eyes of his peers upon him.”

Adelard sighed; it seemed Paladin had indeed thought of other possibilities. However, Addie wasn’t one to be impulsive. “You’re not going to say anything to him, are you?”

“Why not? He has the right to know his pocket watch is made of mithril.”

“He may have the right to know, but do you really think he will care?”

“Of course he will!” said Paladin. “Degger knows exactly what mithril is--he and Pippin learned about gems and precious metals not long ago with Miss Hemlock.”

“Paladin, we don’t have all of the facts yet. All we know--or all you’ve been told--is that the watch is made of mithril. It might actually frighten the lad to know he carries a watch worth a year’s wages in his pocket.”

Paladin started to cave. Perhaps his cousin was right. “I still believe there is a mystery to uncover here, Addie, mark my word.”

“That may well be, and I daresay it will uncover itself when the time comes. But I don’t believe the time is now.”

Paladin sat back in his chair wondering what the coming days would bring; would he be able to contain himself when the time came to give Degger his gift.

“Well,” said Addie, standing to his feet, breaking the long moment of reflection, “it’s half-past two and you have a Blessing to give little Emmaline Took at teatime.”

“Aye!” Paladin also rose from his chair. “Are you coming?”

“I hadn’t planned on it, but seeing this is your first endeavour by yourself, then I shall come with for support.” Adelard grabbed his topcoat and cloak and accompanied Paladin to the Blessing.