Chapter 60. The Very Next Morning

The next morning Budgie came whistling down the Hill, through Hobbiton and Bywater and on to the Cotton farm.

’Good morning, all!’ he said cheerily to the Cottons, who were just sitting down to second breakfast.

’Good morning, Budgie,’ Farmer Cotton answered. ‘Welcome! Sit yourself down and join us. Samwise said you’d arrived with Mr Freddy.’

’We’re looking forward to seeing him at dinner,’ Mrs Cotton said.

Budgie allowed his face to fall into sober lines. ‘Ah yes,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid—I’ve come to express Mr Freddy’s regrets, and that he’s not quite up to it yet. I expect he’ll spend much o' the day abed.’

’In bed!’ Rosie Gamgee said, starting up from her chair despite her heavy burden. ‘I ought to—‘

’You ought to sit right back down in that chair and eat!’ Budgie said kindly. ‘I’ve a loverly stew bubbling away up at Bag End, for noontide, and I left Mr Frodo and Mr Freddy jabbering over that-there story the two o’ them are writing down.’ This was the truth, though he’d misled the Cottons and Gamgees somewhat. Frodo was the one in bed, not Freddy.

’Listen to the lad, Rosie; he’s a healer after all,’ Farmer Cotton said, and Rose sat down.

’Perhaps I ought to—’ Sam said.

’It would distress Mr Frodo no end if you cut your holiday short,’ Budgie said stoutly. ‘I can do all the cooking and fetching what’s needed, Sam. You and Rosie enjoy the rest of your week. You’ll have precious little rest after the babe arrives!’

’Would Mr Freddy be well enough to come on the morrow?’ Mrs Cotton asked.

Budgie thought this over. Frodo had shown a marked improvement this morning over yesterday, though he was still distressingly weak to the healer’s way of thinking, and he had no appetite. ‘I’d say, perhaps, the day after,’ he said cautiously.

After the meal was over, Mrs Cotton pressed a freshly-baked pie upon the visitor. ‘You can have it for tea,’ she said. ‘And be sure to give our best to Mr Freddy.’

Inhaling the lingering fragrance in the kitchen, Budgie said, ‘I’m sure this’ll do him no end o' good, Mrs Cotton, and I thank you as well.’

’I’ll walk part way with you,’ Samwise said. The farmer and his sons walked out the door with them, on their way to the barn. It was time for plowing and planting, and there was much to be done before the setting of the sun.

Walking down the lane to Bywater, Sam said, ‘How’s Mr Frodo?’

Budgie said at once, ‘He seems to be glad to have his cousin visiting, and Mr Freddy is just as glad to see him. I left the two o’ them jabbering away, as I said. I think they were delighted to get me out o' the hole and out o' the way so they could get some work done, as a matter of fact!’

’Ah,’ Sam said, and was quiet for a few moments before he spoke again. ‘What’s different about you?’ he finally asked frankly.

’Different?’ Budgie said.

’You’re different,’ he said, ‘than when you came partway down the Hill with me. What is it?’

’You’re the observant one,’ Budgie said with a searching look at Sam. ‘But then Mr Freddy has always spoken of you in the highest terms.’

’Well?’ Sam said.

’It bothers you?’ Budgie said.

’It’s an itch I cannot scratch,’ Sam said.

Budgie nodded. ‘It’s the dress,’ he said. ‘I’ve taken off the waistcoat and rolled up my sleeves.’

Sam looked at him in surprise. ‘You have!’ he said. ‘What a difference it makes! But that’s not all of it...’

’Oh yes,’ Budgie said, ‘I’m more relaxed, like, not standing so straight and proper...’

’Ye-es,’ Sam said slowly, ‘but that’s not all...

’You’re a sharp one, Sam,’ Budgie said. ‘The talk is different as well.’

’That’s it!’ Sam said. ‘When I was up at Bag End, you looked and sounded like... like...’ He stopped, at a loss for words.

’I seemed like one of the gentry, you’re saying,’ Budgie said quietly. ‘Exactly. It’s something my father taught me. Mr Freddy’s not comfortable amongst common hobbits, you know; he’s not free to speak his mind or to be himself. He just doesn’t know any better, and your Mr Frodo’s the same.’

Samwise bristled in defence of his beloved master, but Budgie said, ‘Meaning no disrespect to Mr Frodo, mind, but he’s never been taught any different.’

’What do you mean?’ Sam asked.

’Were I to wear a waistcoat and sleeves with buttoned cuffs and talk fancy at the Cottons', what would they have said about me after I’d gone?’ Budgie said.

’They’d’ve said you were putting on airs,’ Sam said.

’Too true, and they’d be right!’ Budgie said, well pleased with Sam’s perspicuity. ‘Fancy dress and fancy talk don’t cut any ice with Farmer Cotton! Not from a common hobbit, anyhow. He puts up with it from the gentry, for it’s what he’d expect, so long as they don’t look down their noses at him for being a hobbit of honest labour.’

He stopped, for they were approaching the outskirts of Bywater and he did not want to be overheard. ‘But rolled-up sleeves and plain talk, they don’t cut any ice with the gentry, you see?’

He looked intently into Sam’s face. ‘If I, as a healer, want them to mind my words, I’ve got to get them to do more than half-listen to me,’ he said.

’Half-listen,’ Sam echoed, puzzled.

’I have to talk their talk,’ Budgie said, ‘but if I’m looking plain and speaking fancy it makes them uncomfortable, so I take pains with my appearance so as to make it easier for them to listen. Poor souls, they don’t know any better, and so I make the effort.’

He grinned suddenly. ‘It’ll be a good thing for you to keep in mind, should you ever go for Mayor.’

’Mayor!’ Sam said in shock. ‘Why should I ever do that?’

’Mr Freddy seems to think you’d fill the position well,’ Budgie said. ‘He keeps saying, “That Sam! He keeps the post moving so well between Bag End and Midge Hall, he ought to put his hand to overseeing the messenger service for the Shire!” That’s the Mayor’s job, you know.’

Sam was silent, digesting this thought.

’Anyhow,’ Budgie finished, ‘as Mayor you’ll have quite a bit of doings with the gentry. They’ll listen better to you if you talk their talk, and set them at their ease. And that’s not putting on airs! It’s only if you act the part amongst common hobbits, who know better...’

’I see,’ Sam said.

’Well, you’d better get back to your lovely wife,’ Budgie said suddenly. ‘Looks to me as if she’s due to pop any time now, and you wouldn’t want to miss it!’

’D’you think so?’ Sam said.

’I’m a healer, am I not?’ Budgie said. ‘Don’t you worry about your Mr Frodo, I’m quite capable of looking after him as well as Mr Freddy.’

’Yes, well, thank you,’ Sam stammered, his thoughts on Rose. ‘I hope to see you day after the morrow.’

’As do I!’ Budgie said. He and Sam parted, and he made his way through Bywater and Hobbiton and back up the Hill, whistling again.

The smell of good stew met his nostrils as he put the pie down on the kitchen table, unwrapping it and taking a deep whiff. ‘Mmm, that’ll be good,’ he said aloud. He rolled down his sleeves and buttoned the cuffs, then donned his waistcoat once more. The bread he’d set to rise before leaving was ready for the baking, and soon the aroma was wafting through Bag End, and the teakettle was singing a cheerful song.

’Something smells good,’ Freddy said, emerging from Frodo’s room.

’Did you get a lot done?’ Budgie said. ‘The Cottons send their regards, and a pie for our enjoyment.’

’A pie!’ Freddy said, and gazed at the masterpiece gracing the table. ‘And such a pie! I thought you’d baked it with your two little hands.’

’Not I,’ Budgie said. ‘I’ve been too busy reassuring Sam that his master is well.’

’A morning well spent,’ Freddy said. ‘Frodo is well, as a matter of fact. I left him sleeping peacefully.’ He sat down at the table while Budgie dumped the warm water out of the teapot and added leaves and boiling water.

’I’ll have a lovely mushroom omelette for you in three shakes,’ Budgie said cheerily, ‘right about the time the first of the buns come out of the oven.’

They sat down to elevenses, talking quietly while they ate. ‘I told the Cottons we’d be down the day after the morrow,’ Budgie said.

’Will Frodo be well enough, d’you think?’ Freddy asked.

’I hope so,’ Budgie said. ‘His heart—I do not like the sound of it, still.’

’What is it?’ Freddy said. ‘A heart seizure?’ His face was very sober.

’No,’ Budgie answered. ‘It doesn’t sound that way. It’s just—I cannot put my finger on it. A slushy sound where it should sound crisp and clear, but so slight... perhaps I am only imagining it.’ He took a sip of his tea. ‘He seems very tired. It may be no more than that.’

’We shall ride our ponies down the Hill to the Cottons,’ Freddy said, ‘for “my benefit”, of course.’

’Yes, spare both of you the walk back up,’ Budgie said. ‘An excellent notion.’

’Did you mention to Sammy my idea of him going for Mayor?’ Freddy asked after polishing off his omelette and pouring another cup of tea for Budgie and himself.

’I did,’ Budgie said. ‘He took it about as you thought he would.’

’We’ve got to give him plenty of time to get used to the idea,’ Freddy said.

’I’d say six years is plenty of time,’ Budgie chuckled, then sobered. ‘Old Will has the position that long, though I’d imagine he’ll step down at the end of this term. He may look like the “old” Will, but the Lockholes left their mark on him. He won’t live past an hundred, I’d say, and he owes his wife a few years of quiet retirement before he leaves her.’

’You don’t miss much, do you, old friend?’ Freddy said. ‘And what about me?’

’You probably won’t live past an hundred, either,’ Budgie said candidly. ‘But that still leaves you a good fifty or sixty years to give to a wife, now, doesn’t it?’