Chapter 51. “No Time Like the Present”

Life at Bag End settled quickly into a routine. Frodo would be up before the dawn, taking a cup of tea from the cosied pot on the kitchen table with a smile and greeting for Rose as she worked on early breakfast for herself and Samwise, for Mr Frodo never ate early breakfast (“I’d make a terrible bird,” he’d joke with a mock shudder. “Let all those worms slip away, indeed!”). He’d take himself off for a walk, back in time for second breakfast.

As long as Freddy, Merry and Pippin were at Bag End, the gentlehobbits ate in the dining room, while Rose and Sam took their meals in the kitchen, though Mr Pippin had more than once threatened to join them there if he could not persuade them to sit at table in the dining room. Just one of his jests, Rose thought. It was nice of Mr Pippin, not teasing, not a way of pointing out the difference in their station. In fact, he hardly seemed to notice that there was any difference between them.

However, the day after the Travellers departed for Crickhollow and Mr Freddy was carried away in a coach to Waymeet at the behest of his Great Aunt Camellia, Frodo appeared in the kitchen doorway just as Sam and Rosie were sitting down to their second breakfast.

’May I join you?’ he asked. ‘It seems echoing and empty and so terribly lonely in the dining room, with just one place setting at that table.’ He knew better than to ask Sam and Rosie to join him in the dining room. They could hardly refuse him a place at the kitchen table, however, and it became routine for him to take second breakfast and the noontide meal there, in the early days, when his cousins were not visiting.

Mornings Mr Frodo would putter about Bag End, watching Rose or Samwise about their business, asking questions as Sam told Rose he had in the old days--Sam could hardly get his work done for answering all of young Mr Frodo’s questions, back before old Mr Bilbo had left. Mr Frodo learned all about baking bread, rolling out piecrust, chopping vegetables, Mrs Cotton’s secret for making the best pork pie in the area, and various other culinary accomplishments. He’d already learned from Sam about planting and hoeing, which plants grew well together, which insects were pests and which were helpers, but he learned ever more. Sometimes he stood with his pipe in his mouth and his hands in his pockets, but more often he was on his knees with his hands in the soil, or up to his elbows in bread dough in the kitchen on those leisurely Spring mornings.

After noontide, Mr Frodo would shut himself up in the study and work away at his writing. It was a good thing that he had two good meals behind him (Rose made sure his second breakfast made up for the lack of early breakfast and later elevenses, which he almost never ate). Rose brought him his tea there, but often found it gone cold, the food untouched, when she came to clear away later, and supper was the same story, until she hit on the practice of dusting the study after bringing him his supper, distracting him with talk so that he consumed all before going back to his writing.

Some evenings he’d sit with them in the kitchen, enjoying a cup of tea during the washing up. Sam tried to get Mr Frodo to go down to the Ivy Bush with himself and his old gaffer, but on those evenings, Mr Frodo would shut himself into the study and write late into the night, until Sam's return. Samwise would turn down the lamps and knock at the study door. ‘Do you want anything else, Mr Frodo?’ he’d ask.

Frodo would put down the pen, turn from the desk and say, ‘Is it time for bed already, Sam? I lost myself again, I’m afraid.’

Sometimes he’d call Sam into the study and the two of them would talk long, especially when Mr Frodo was trying to get down a part of the story he wasn’t sure of. The long journey from Weathertop to Rivendell, for example, required much input from Sam. Frodo did not remember it much at all.

Mr Freddy returned from Waymeet in the last week of May, and after a few days’ rest he and Mr Frodo went off on their ponies to Tuckborough, for the Tookland’s annual pony races on the First of June.

Samwise took advantage of Mr Frodo’s absence to put up a chicken yard and henhouse. He hadn’t wanted to do it earlier, with Mr Frodo writing and all. Hammering was a distracting sound, though when he thought about it later he realised Mr Frodo would have been happy to help him build a new home for chickens. It just didn’t seem right, the thought of his master hammering and sawing and clipping wire.

Tom Cotton came from the farm to help. ‘So, Tom, when are you going to make things right with Marigold?’ Sam asked when they were halfway through nailing down the floorboards.

Tom looked at him in astonishment. ‘There’s naught wrong!’ he said stoutly.

’O yes there is,’ Sam said. ‘She’s been waiting ever so long for you to speak, and you hain’t shown no signs of it yet!’

Tom chuckled. This, from the hobbit who’d waited over a year to ask his sister Rose...

’What’s the rush?’ he asked. ‘The time just don’t seem right quite yet.’

’It’ll never be right, Tom,’ Sam said through the nails he held in his mouth. His old gaffer always scowled and scolded (“Ye’ll swallow them nails one day!”) but it was handy, and he hadn’t swallowed a nail yet.

’What’s that you mean?’ Tom said, sobering abruptly. ‘Do you mean old Hamfast’ll turn me down when I ask?’

’No no, not that at all!’ Sam said. ‘It’s just that...’ He selected another nail and secured the board with a well-placed blow or two. No fox or stoat would be able to push up these floorboards to get at the chickens. Tom waited. Sam was slow to speak, but worth waiting for. ‘I was a great one for waiting,’ he concluded.

’Don’t I know it!’ Tom chuckled, nearly swallowing his own mouthful of nails.

’I couldn’t ask Rose, what with Mr Frodo going off and all; I couldn’t let him go off alone and I couldn’t marry Rose and leave her,’ Sam said.

’I’d’ve followed after you and fetched you back,’ Tom said. ‘You cannot leave a bride! Why, it would be...’ Words failed him.

Sam nodded. ‘That’s why I didn’t speak,’ he said. ‘And then after we got back, there was the Shire all tattered and torn, and hobbits homeless, and trees cut down. The Lady had given me a box, and the time seemed right to use it...’

Tom nodded. Sam had told them about the Golden Wood, and while it still sounded like a fairy tale, there was no gainsaying the miraculous growth of the newly planted trees, and the wondrous mallorn in the Party Field.

’I almost spoke at Yule,’ Sam went on, ‘but then Mr Merry and his jokes, well... he put me off, he did. Made me mad, I’m sorry to say, though he meant no harm by it.’

’Well we all know you’ve a stubborn streak, Samwise Gamgee,’ Tom said, laying down another board. ‘The best way to get you not to do something is to tell you that you’ve got to go and do it! Pity Mr Merry didn’t know any better.’

’Ah well, he’s a gentlehobbit you know,’ Sam said, excusing Mr Merry’s ignorance the best he could. ‘Still,’ he said, ‘it was Mr Merry who got me to speak to Rosie after all.’

’How’d he do that?’ Tom asked curiously. He’d heard his parents say much the same thing.

’Life is short, Tom,’ Sam said in reply, ‘and it’s uncertain. One moment, Mr Merry was riding along, all brave and bright upon that fine pony of his, and the next he was lying in the grass, his pony’s leg broke and all. He nearly died! If’n it hadn’t been for Mr Frodo...’ he said soberly.

’There is no right time,’ he concluded. ‘Don’t wait until you’ve put away “enough”—you’ve a place on the farm, your parents will take Mari in and treat her like their own daughter, and the farm’ll be yours someday in the bargain. Don’t wait for things to get better. They might, but they just might not.’

Tom considered all this, his hammer poised over a nail, and then suddenly he laid the hammer down, spat out the nails into his palm, put them in a neat little pile, and got up, dusting his hands.

’Where are you going?’ Sam asked.

Tom grinned. ‘There’s no time like the present,’ he said. ‘If your old gaffer doesn’t turn a deaf ear, and if Mari will have me, would you stand up for me at the wedding?’

***

Early in the race festivities, Thain Paladin sought out Odovacar Bolger. ‘Come lift a glass with me,’ he said. ‘We’ll celebrate the return of our sons from the dead.’

Sitting in the Thain’s study, Odo waited for the Thain to come to the point. Paladin never did anything without a purpose, after all. He wondered if they were to discuss their previous agreement, though there was little point. Young Peregrin would not reach his majority for another four years, and until he did, there was no point in making wedding arrangements.

Paladin, however, turned the talk to Freddy. ‘He is not yet at home?’ he asked.

Odo shook his head. ‘No,’ he answered. ‘Nor am I sure that he ever will be.’

’What about the wedding you’d planned? When will that take place?’

Odo took a sip of the Thain’s fine ale. ‘I’ve released Melilot Brandybuck from our agreement,’ he said. ‘I don’t know if Freddy will ever be strong enough to marry. I would not see him married and the lass a widow within a few short years’ time.’

The Thain had brightened to hear that Freddy’s arranged marriage with the Brandybuck lass had been dissolved, but sobered again at the reason. If Freddy wouldn’t marry at all, then...

’But what of the title? Who’ll be the Bolger if Freddy sires no heirs?’ Paladin asked. ‘What’ll happen to your holdings?’

’I’ve named Rudivacar as my heir,’ Odo said quietly. ‘Fredegar is in full agreement. He knows as well as I do how precarious is his hold on health. The healers say that starvation and ill-treatment have strained his heart.’ He started to sip at his ale again, then put the glass down and stared at a string of rising bubbles. ‘I may have the distinction of surviving my son.’

’Quite a few Tooks have had that distinction,’ Paladin answered soberly, ‘thanks to the tender offices of the ruffians.’ He went back to the topic of interest. ‘So Rudi will inherit the title and the Bolger fortune. What about the Manse?’

’He gets that as well. Freddy will never live there,’ Odo said.

’Ah,’ Paladin said, but he kept his further thoughts to himself.

***

The pony races were as festive as ever; more so than the previous year, when Tookland had been shut up tight. Ponies came from all over the Shire to race, and all was as it ever had been.

Odovacar Bolger was glad to see his nephew Ferdibrand Took looking so well. Ferdi took fourth place overall on his dappled brown mare. ‘Wasn’t that the mare I wanted?’ Freddy said, sitting next to his father in the box. ‘The one you gave him when he came of age?’

‘That’s right,’ Odo said. ‘She came out of his father’s lines, and I thought it fitting he ought to have a pony of his own and not have to ride one of the Thain’s to perform his duties.’

’I’m glad you gave her to him,’ Freddy said. ‘From what I’ve heard, she served the Shire as well as he did. He needed a fleet-footed pony to keep him out of the ruffians’ clutches, and she saved him more than once.’ They watched the Thain’s daughters bedeck the winning pony with garlands of wildflowers. Out of the corner of his eye, Freddy saw his uncle Rudivacar watching Pimpernel Took save one of her garlands to decorate Ferdi’s pony.

’Looks as if there’s a wedding in the offing,’ he said casually, just to see Rudi’s reaction.

’I imagine so,’ his uncle said glumly, and then turned the talk immediately. ‘They’ll be serving the banquet soon,’ he said. ‘We’d best make our way there before the crowd gets the same idea.’ He helped Freddy up and the two of them began to walk slowly towards the Great Smials, followed by Odovacar and Rosemary.

Freddy had not been the only one watching Rudivacar. Paladin saw Rudi’s gaze on Pimpernel as well, and smiled grimly to himself.

After the banquet, he asked Rudi to join him for a walk. ‘Fine evening,’ he said.

’Fine feast,’ Rudi answered, patting his stomach. ‘It is good to take a walk to settle all that rich food.’

The two walked together in the meadow under the stars, listening to the singing from the hobbits gathered around the bonfire.

’I understand you’re interested in my daughter Pimpernel,’ Paladin said abruptly, when they were well away from all ears.

Rudi stopped, startled. ‘I—,’ he said. ‘I don’t—‘ He gulped and finally found the power to speak coherently. ‘Who could have said such a thing?’

Paladin chuckled. ‘I’ve eyes,’ he said. ‘I know you were to have married a Boffin girl some years back, but she died of the fever...’

’That’s right,’ Rudi said. ‘Though we didn’t know each other at all, it still struck me. I’ve never really looked for someone else.’

’But now you’re interested in Nell,’ Paladin said.

’There’s a previous attachment,’ Rudi protested.

’On your part?’ Paladin said delicately. ‘Is there a wedding in your future? Let me congratulate you!’

’No not at all!’ Rudi said. ‘I’ve seen the glances passing between Pimpernel and my sister’s son, Ferdibrand.’

’Ah,’ Paladin said, forcing sadness into his tone. ‘That one. Completely unsuitable, I’m afraid. I would never consent to their union.’

’What?’ Rudi said, thunderstruck. ‘After all he did for you, and for Tookland?’

’He’s a brave lad, indeed,’ Paladin agreed. ‘But he has nothing to his name but pride. His father lost his family’s fortune, his mother died mad, and he’s brave enough, but that arm of his is hopelessly crippled. He’ll never make anything of himself, and I doubt he’d marry the Thain’s daughter in his position, no matter what his feelings were for her.’

’I see,’ Rudi said slowly. ‘But what of Pimpernel’s feelings?’

’She’s a good girl,’ Paladin said. ‘Does what she’s told. She’ll marry the hobbit her parents pick out for her, and set herself to be content in the bargain. She’s that sort. I only wish her brother Peregrin had half her sense of duty.’

’Have you picked out a husband for her yet?’ Rudi asked dryly.

’Well now, that’s just what I asked you out here to discuss...’ Paladin said easily, taking Rudi’s arm and beginning to walk again. The Bolgers’ fortune, their holdings, the Quarry and the mines, gold amongst the takings, were all within his grasp.

***

A fortnight later, Frodo resigned his position at Deputy Mayor at the Lithedays celebration in Michel Delving. Good old Will Whitfoot, back to his original jolly plumpness, was restored to office by an overwhelming vote. It is possible that one or two hobbits mistakenly voted against him; as there were no other contenders for the office it is difficult to envisage how they managed to do so. In any event, Will was Mayor again, and Frodo retired to the quiet of his routine at Bag End once more.

***

There were two weddings on the same day in September, one in the Party Field below Number Three, and the other at the Great Smials. Frodo kissed Marigold on the cheek and shook Young Tom Cotton’s hand. ‘I wish I could stay to celebrate,’ he said, ‘but I am obliged to be in Tookland for the wedding of the Thain's daughter the day after the morrow.’

’I’ll celebrate enough for the two of us, cousin!’ Freddy said.

Frodo looked at him in astonishment. ‘What, you’re not coming? It’s your own uncle being married, not to mention he’s marrying your cousin!’

’I’m afraid I’m not up to the journey,’ Freddy answered. ‘I’m tired, Frodo. Give Rudi and Nell my congratulations, and ask them to stop by Bag End to see me on their way to Bridgefields if you don’t mind.’

’I don’t want to leave you, in that case,’ Frodo began, but Freddy put up a hand to stop him.

’I’m counting on you to represent me creditably in Tookland, cousin,’ he said. ‘I’ll be fine, with Sam and Rosie to look after me! I’ll be all the better for the rest, you’ll see.’

’He’ll be all the better, not having to share the platter of mushrooms,’ Pippin laughed, lifting his nose to sniff the air. ‘I do believe Rosie is cooking up a fine mess of mushrooms for elevenses, but if we stay we’ll be late for tea!’

’That would never do,’ Merry said from his saddle, though he gave Freddy a sharp glance. His cousin did look tired, Merry thought to himself. ‘Get yourself a good rest, Freddy.’

’Enjoy the mushrooms!’ Pippin said, stepping lightly up into his saddle as if the mail he wore weighed no more than an ordinary coat. ‘Coming, Frodo?’

’I’m right behind you,’ Frodo said, but he stopped to embrace Freddy. ‘Take care of yourself,’ he said quietly. ‘Send word if...’ He caught Sam’s eye, and the gardener nodded. If Mr Freddy showed signs of failing he’d ride to Tuckborough himself to bring word to Mr Frodo.

’I’ll send word if I think you’re missing the better celebration,’ Freddy said lightly. ‘Go on with you now, Frodo! We’ll be fine here!’ He took Rose's arm and, leaning on her, made his way back into Bag End.

’I’ll take care of him for you, Mr Frodo,’ Sam said. ‘He’ll be comfortable, he’ll eat well, he’ll enjoy the wedding, and I’ll make sure he rests.’

’Thank you, Sam. I know I can depend upon you,’ Frodo said. He mounted his pony, and the three Travellers turned their ponies’ heads towards Tookland.