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Fordogrim Chubb
Fordogrim rode back to his family, humming to himself with smug self-satisfaction. He had seen Marcho’s reaction to his harangue, and he knew that he had got under the self-important little hobbit’s skin. But he had also got his way: the convoy had stopped, and the families all about him were happily stretching their weary limbs, if they had been riding in carts, or throwing themselves onto the comfortable grass to rest, if they had been walking or riding ponies. Everyone was pulling out food and preparing their noonday meal. Very soon, there were more than a few cooking fires crackling away merrily and hot soup and tea was being ladled out to eager hobbit mouths.
Fordogrim was looking forward to a sustaining meal – for, no matter what else he might think of his daughter-in-law, she was one of the finest cooks Fordogrim had ever known, better even than his beloved Prim (even the fancy of a heart-broken hobbit gives way to practicality on the subject of food) – so his disappointment when he got back to the cart could not have been greater. Sarah was sitting in the cart nibbling on some cold lunch that she had brought out for herself. There was no cooking fire, no picnic blanket laid out, not even so much as a simple board thrown across the rails of the cart for a table. Where in the world is that fool son of mine? And what about his children? He glowered at Sarah’s back, as though she were responsible for having left him alone with her. For a moment, he contemplated turning Stout around and heading back up the line of the convoy to where he had seen his Fredigar Headstrong unpacking a delicious looking pie (mushroom pie from the smell of it). Fordogrim knew through happy personal experience the wonders of Mrs. Headstrong’s mushroom pie. Just as he was about to turn Stout around, he caught a slight whisper. Looking hard at Sarah he saw that she was…could she really be?…she was actually talking to the chickens! Fordogrim shook his head in disbelief and thought Has everyone gone cracked? Even in my own family!
At that moment Sarah looked up and saw Fordogrim staring at her. She blushed with embarrassment, knowing that she’d been seen in conversation with the poultry. At first she was at a loss for what to do, or how to recover. Fordogrim took the opportunity to call out to her, as disapprovingly as he could, “Where has that woolly-headed son of mine got to? And what about your children? Have they eaten their Luncheon already?” And what about my Luncheon, anyway? he added to himself.
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