Births:

Overlithe, S.R. 1240 – Hildigrim Took (as noted in Old Yellowskin)

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Midsummer’s Day, S.R. 1243

“Papa!”

Gerontius swung Hildigrim into his arms. “My big lad! You are a faunt today!” He saw Isumbras shake his head out of the corner of his eye, and turned to his second – third son. “What is it, son?” he asked, and the little one looked at him, worried.

“Papa, they say Hilly hasn’t got a real birthday! He can’t be a real faunt this year!”

“Who says such things, Isumbras?” Gerontius asked. He was taking the lads out, since Isengrim was at lessons – he was too young yet to spend all the Lithedays at the Fair – and Isumbras trotted obediently at his side as Gerontius carried Hildigrim from the nursery.

“Ponto!” Isumbras scowled. The Baggins lad – for lad he was, a tween yet – had come to Great Smials for tutoring, and occasionally played with Isumbras, despite the large difference in age. “He teased Hilly, said his birthday’s not for true.”

“Did he, now?” Gerontius gave Hildigrim a thoughtful look as he set his youngest down in the walled garden. The Remembrance Garden, he and Adamanta called it, and now always the First Gifts were gathered here. “Because Overlithe isn’t every year, is that it?”

Hildigrim nodded tearfully, having caught the thread of the conversation.

“Well, Ponto Baggins isn’t a close connexion by any means, Hildigrim! You haven’t got to give him a gift,” Gerontius calmed his distraught lad. “Just pick something nice for your Grandfather and Grandmother, and for Mama and your brothers.”

“And Papa and Mari,” Hildigrim reminded Gerontius. The Thain’s heir smiled a little and nodded. “Of course.” He watched as Hilly darted to and fro, and ere long he found himself the owner of a shiny, round stone – bright green, of all things! A beryl, perhaps. He had never seen its like. “That is a wonderful gift, Hildigrim! I shall love it always.”