[Mithadan]

THE HOBBITS

by Gilthalion


Chapter I

A SURPRISED PARTY

In a field on a hill there grew a tree. Not a scraggly bent tree, with twisted branches and crusty growths, nor yet a thin, sickly, overcrowded tree, with few leaves and fewer branches for birds to perch on or for squirrels to play in: it was a mallorn-tree, and that means beauty.

It was a mighty tree, taller than any tree in the Shire or in all the lands west of the Misty Mountains. Its great trunk was grey and smooth as silk. Up it towered and opened its branches high above the top of the Hill nearby and gave cool shade to everything under its canopy, like a cloud of living green. Its leaves were verdant in the summer of the Shire and from almost anywhere around you could see the top of the Tree. The Tree, as all the hobbits for many miles round called it, had been planted long ago in the golden year of 1420 S.R. by Samwise Gamgee, the old Hero of the Shire. It was said that the Tree had been magically enchanted by an Elvish Queen to grow faster and taller than any tree before or since. The old gaffers and gammers told that in just a year's time it was as big as the full-grown Party Tree that had stood there before. Some even claimed to have actually watched it growing! But that was long ago and now it was grown fantastically immense. It had been long since any children had dared to climb in its branches, and it was so tall that no one ever seriously anymore thought of trying to climb The Tree.

Faramir Took, son of the Thain and leader of the archers of Tookland, had been the last hobbit to try, but that was at least forty years ago. Even then, he didn't make it all the way up to the lowest branch and he almost came down the hard way! (Some jesters said that the only thing hard about getting out of the Tree would be the Ground.) Hobbits, by and large, did not go much for climbing trees and other adventures of that sort, and most especially wouldn't be caught climbing up into anything like The Tree!

What's that? You don't know what a hobbit is? Well really, I thought everybody knew by now, and we haven't time to catch you all the way up, so you will just have to catch on as we go. For now, hobbits are just like you and me, only much smaller, no bigger than half your height and a quarter your weight. They are almost never as large as that these days (they are now usually much smaller) and are never seen much anyway. They don't like lots of noise, and big moving things, and high places. They can hide from you very quickly, and if you ever walked out in the country far from the Cities they may have watched you go by, having heard you come crashing and snapping and shuffling along with your great big feet! Hobbits can move absolutely quietly in the woods and can get out of sight faster than you can say 'stick.' They are very close to Nature, perhaps even more so these days. They live in holes for the most part, hidden in places far from the Big Folk, as they call you and me. They can throw a stone or anything else exactly where they want it and are good at all sorts of games. They have fur on the top of their bare feet as thick as the hair on your head and they have never taken to wearing shoes. Other than that, perhaps they like to eat more, and drink more, and sleep more, and laugh more, and sing more, and dance more, and tell stories more than the Big People, who don't have as much time for that sort of thing, being much too busy with the bigger matters of Business, and Government, and War.

That ought to be plenty to get you started. Now, on this particular Mid-Year's Day, Master Samwise had gone down to the Party Field under The Tree for the celebration. Hobbits didn't need much reason to have a party and Mid-Year's Day seemed as good a reason as any. Old Sam's wife, Mistress Rose, had a few more things to do in the kitchen at Bag End and would be along shortly. The old hobbit whistled as he walked briskly to the field and he saw many hobbits gathered under The Tree. He thought back on all the many celebrations his old eyes had seen under the mallorn-tree of Galadriel.

Of course, Bilbo's Eleventy-first Birthday Party had been long before the Tree, but there were still the old gaffers and gammers who remembered that day, and especially the wizardly fireworks and the disappearance of Mad Baggins, as Bilbo was remembered in hobbit legend. As far as they were concerned, there would never be another party like it! Sam thought so himself. Then there were other parties and celebrations through the long years and folks started forgetting Sam's old master, Frodo Baggins, who had lived in Bag End before him. These days, fewer and fewer outside of the family knew or remembered that Frodo of the Shire had carried the greatest burden in the War of the Ring. It pained him to think, that try as he might, and with all his might, to set things straight, the hobbits of the Shire had enshrined old Master Merry and Master Pippin and himself as Heroes and Frodo remained a footnote for those who could read.

And Samwise had indeed tried very hard! Just three years before, back in 1479, a few years after retirement from his sixth and final term as Mayor, Samwise announced that he would hold a Three Hundred Mark Feast to celebrate the Birthday of Bilbo and Frodo and this was the talk of the Shire. The day of September 22nd, throughout all the years of good old Sam's service as Mayor, had been observed, even though participation had fallen off from its first days. Still, the Three Hundred Mark Feast had been extra-special, and made extra-specially so because Peregrin Took, right Thain of the Shire, and Meriadoc Brandybuck, Master of Buckland had come. There had been fireworks from Dale and food and drink enough to satisfy the Shire. The old hobbits held forth and gave tribute to Frodo, perhaps living still, far away in the true West on the Straight Road under the Star of Eärendil, but this was too elvish and outlandish for the hobbits to really grasp, and rather hard to believe anyway. They listened politely to the old heroes and raised their glasses and mugs to Frodo of the Nine Fingers, listened to minstrels from Gondor (there by special permission!) sing his praises, wearing their outlandish garb, and speaking with grandiloquent phrases and unusual accents. The hobbits just didn't understand a lot of it, but it was mighty entertaining. After that day they did not much think on Frodo again.

The new mayor, Ed Sandyman, the old miller's son, had not bothered with the occasion officially in either the years before or after the Three Hundred Mark Feast. And so the event, Baggins Day, as the faithful called it, was marked by fewer and fewer hobbits outside of immediate family and friends, but it was lively enough still, for hobbits did not need much excuse for a party, especially if it meant a feast! Old Samwise Gardner himself was still held in high regard by the old gaffers and gammers (who still remembered when he was called Gamgee like old Hamfast before him), but fewer and fewer young hobbits knew why folks thought so much of him and the old stories were not regarded as highly as they might have been.

This too, bothered the venerable old hobbit, but being a sensible fellow and knowing there wasn't much he could do, he never really let on about it. There were plenty of grandchildren and grandnieces and grandnephews and the like who would come up to the famous hole on The Hill and listen to his stories and his poetry as he gardened.

Samwise Gardner was a century old himself, but still sturdy and hale, and he worked in his own garden (almost) every day. That was how folk started calling the family Gardner in the first place, following after his tremendous labours in the years after the Scouring. They started by calling him "The Gardener" and this became "Master Gard'ner" and finally the whole lot of them in Bag End were called The Gardners. Young Frodo, Sam's son, at last insisted that they just go ahead and make legal what was already the fact and be done with the confustication that ensued if a Gardner insisted his name was Gamgee.

But Sam was not gardening today! It was Mid-Year's Day, and he was looking forward to the party, not expected to be as grand as the Three Hundred Mark Feast had been, but a party is a party and all hobbits simply loved parties. Master Samwise and Mistress Rose just loved to have family members over, especially the youngsters and the tweens. Lots of them had come for the celebration and the table at Bag End! Elanor, their daughter was there with her husband Fastred. She was still a breathtaking beauty and called Elanor the Fair; though over sixty, she still looked as if she were not long out of her tweens. The ladies of Bag End would come down momentarily to great acclamation for they were bringing the Blackberry Pies for which the Mistress Rose was herself famous. Her pies would have won the Shire Fair every year even if Sam had not been the Mayor for so long!

Master Samwise sat down with a sigh and a smile and watched all the young people. It is only fair to say that just a few of them noticed the old hero, but they were all polite enough when they did. And of course there were those young ones who came from time to time to visit him in his garden, such as Faramir's sons, the Took Twins, and that young Miss Elediriel Cotton (who listened to her great-granduncle so earnestly that Elanor herself noticed and hired her to work in the library at the Undertowers), and of course, the pretty and audacious Miss Madrigal Brandybuck (known variously as either the Beauty or the Terror of the Shire!). These, and a few others, did not hesitate to come to talk (and to listen!) to the old hobbit.

Many other hobbits were there under the Tree and there was already music and dancing and talking, and of course, eating and drinking. Every kind of little appetizer and meat and vegetable was laid out for them as well as good beer for all and fine wine for the head table. Quite a merry time was being had, for the Shire was prosperous and peaceful, and there had been no greater troubles for many years than the usual homely disputes over games of chance and romance.

After a while, the sun began to set and the sky became a warm red and lit the clouds with glowing light. The leaves of the Tree glinted as if their living green had been overlaid with rich gold. It was at last time for the desert! At the head table Mayor Sandyman had stood and was speaking. The loud talking and singing faded to whispers and subdued speech here and there as certain hobbits more quietly continued with their own very important things to say to one another.

"My fellow hobbits and most estimable citizens of the Shire! I need not speak long!"

They cheered and clapped for old Ed at this, for they knew that he, indeed, would not speak long. The Mayor was often asked to give speeches for various occasions, owing to his reputation for getting squarely to the point and not using many words to do it. Not that he often actually answered a question. He could come down on both sides of an issue with the fewest possible number of words. A very clever and businesslike hobbit was Ed Sandyman, miller's son and prosperous merchant in his own right, and he was standing again for Mayor. He would especially not risk any lengthy speeches this close to an election and they all knew it well!

"We have gathered here on this Day to observe the end of the beginning of the year and the beginning of the end of the year. Today is Mid-Year's Day!"

They applauded and cheered and blew horns and rang bells and beat drums and Eglantine Goodbodie even began playing her harp so that it was difficult for Mayor Sandyman to continue, but, of course, continue he did as soon as he could make himself heard.

"What better way... what better way... I say, what better way to mark the occasion than with the delicious first fruits of the Shire, prepared for this Party under the direction of Hobbiton's very own Mistress Rose Gardner!" The Mayor waited for more applause and was not disappointed. Everyone loved the dear old lady. Sam looked around for her. So did everyone else. She and Elanor and the ladies should have been laying out the pies. He looked up the Hill. The Mayor continued, oblivious to the fact that neither the ladies nor the desert had arrived. He had already perhaps had a glass too many from the heady vintage imported from Dorwinion.

"Gentlehobbits one and all, it is my honor to present, the Blackberry Pie!" The crowd was silent. Was this his idea of a joke? If so, it was highly inappropriate! Old Sandyman turned around and saw for the first time that the dessert table was bare. His face turned as red and as shiny as a tomato! Some of the younger and the more stuffed hobbits laughed at the Mayor of Hobbiton. Many more were seriously concerned about the pie, especially those who had saved some room for it with great anticipation! There was now little left for filling up the corners if the Pie was not to be had and they began to worry a little.

Sam himself was suddenly worried a lot. Something wasn't right. He continued looking back up the path, as the hobbitry began to talk loudly, and as the Mayor came straight over to Sam with a red sweating face and an angry expression indeed. Old Master Samwise got up to his feet and walked away, as if he did not hear the embarrassed official or the frustrated partygoers. Elanor had flung open the round green front door of Bag End and was actually running down the Hill toward the party field.

If only someone could have painted a picture of the lovely Elanor, dressed in a fair silk dress given to her by the Queen, her hair streaming golden behind her in the breeze as she ran to her elderly father. The weathered old hobbit walked slowly, his sturdy frame now bent with the weight of what his heart already knew. That painting would have been both beautiful and sad. For a moment they lingered thus, and then without a word, they walked into Bag End together and did not come back down again that night.

Fortunately for the Mayor, because there were not a few angry hobbits and concerned hobbits and suddenly hungry hobbits, some of the ladies of the Gardner household soon came down with the much-anticipated desert on a cart. Without any fanfare, the blackberry pies were dispensed and everyone agreed that this year's pies were the best that Mistress Rose had ever made and therefore, no doubt, the Finest Blackberry Pies that had ever been. Mayor Sandyman was pleased to say that he would issue a Proclamation the very next day to say so and all of the hobbits who paid him any attention whatsoever agreed that it should be done.

A few wondered why Mistress Rose had not come down. Some of the old folk seemed rather sad, as if they guessed what none of the youngsters had considered. The guess became a question and the question became a rumour and the rumour passed through the entire gathering. They looked down at their empty pie plates and some of them actually burst into tears. The sad ladies of Bag End confirmed what the crowd had now realized. Mistress Rose would never cook another pie again. And they all mournfully agreed that as much as they would miss the Best Blackberry Pies that ever there were, they would miss their dear, sweet Miss Rosie still more.

Sam had found the weeping ladies clustered around Mistress Rose where she had passed out on the kitchen floor just as the pies were cooled and loaded on the cart. Sam quietly told the ladies to take the pies down to the party and let folks enjoy them the way Rosie wanted them to, and as they did just that, he carried his unconscious wife to her room. He was old, and not the strong young hobbit he had been, but Rosie was small and very thin in her old age. She hardly seemed to weigh anything at all. Elanor turned down the covers and they tried to make her comfortable. She stirred a little and opened her eyes and looked up at Samwise.

"Hullo, Sam!" she said weakly. "Where have you been? You haven't hurried have you?"

"Oh, Rosie!" he said thickly, holding back tears. "What will I do without you?"

She smiled up at him and whispered to him so that he had to bend low to hear her. "You have one last journey. I fancy you'll find Mister Frodo is waiting for you."

This was too much for Sam and the old hobbit could hold back his emotion no longer. Elanor was already weeping quietly. "Rosie," was all he could manage to say through the sadness that blurred his vision and gripped his throat.

"It won't be too long, Sam," she continued even more weakly. "I'll just wait for you... again..."

And she sighed and breathed her last breath in the Shire.

Sam fell across her bed and his body heaved with hard wracking sobs. Elanor stayed with him, still quietly weeping herself, softly stroking her father's snow-crowned head. She left him late in the night but Sam did not leave Rosie until after the sun had set the next day.

***

Master Samwise was never the same after Rosie died. She was laid to rest beneath a small green mound on the Cotton Farm where she was born, and that was the last that most of the hobbits of the Shire saw of old Sam Gardner, son of Hamfast Gamgee. Family members came to visit, and he would put on a cheerful face for the children but everyone knew he was just not the same. He neglected his little garden, still considered the best in the Shire, but as the summer became autumn, it became overgrown, still beautiful, but now untended and becoming wild.

Sam himself seemed to shrink, and started to look more like a hobbit of over a hundred. He no longer walked with a straight back and uplifted head, meeting the local hobbitry with a cheerful eye and a happy smile. Now the poor old fellow hardly stirred out of Bag End at all, except late at night when he would go to sit by himself in his garden to look up at the stars as they set into the West.

September came around and folk had almost forgotten about the elderly hobbit when word went out that he was planning a family party on Baggins Day. He let it be known that anyone who wanted to attend would be welcome, but he really only expected the usual small crowd. He was planning to make an Announcement and other than that, was all too happy to let Elanor handle the arrangements.

Many of the Hobbiton folk and some others from Buckland and from West March had come especially to please old Sam, knowing how the passing of Mistress Rose had grieved him so. Oddly enough, Elanor and Fastred of Westmarch were missed, but everyone else who really knew him was there. The kind hearts of the little people had overflowed for their old hero and they welcomed him happily into the throng that had gathered for him under the Tree he had planted for them so long ago.

Its leaves were turning a resplendent golden colour and they caught the light of the setting sun, reflecting it with such a rich glow upon the gathering that it reminded Sam much of the elvish land of Lothlorien. That memory in turn took him back to the great days of his adventures and the companions of his youth. He choked back tears and thanked each one of them as they took turns shaking his horny old hand and slapping him (gently) on the back. Last of all, two of the companions of his youth were indeed there, Merry and Pippin, or as the hobbits round about knew them, Meriadoc the Magnificent, Master of Buckland, and Master Peregrin Took, Right Thain of the Shire, the great Heroes of the War of 1419.

And great and magnificent they still looked. The two of them together each stood head and shoulders above all the hobbits of the land, and though they too were old, they stood tall and straight and walked with the firm confidence of youth, rather than the careful steps of the elderly. They could still ride ponies, and did so with almost the speed and recklessness of hobbits in their tweens. They wore finery of gold and silk, and carried on their belts, swords of ancient lineage in fine embroidered scabbards. The curly hair on their heads was streaked and flecked with gray and their faces were lined with years of smiles and cares, but their eyes were bright and their hands were strong. Well, perhaps they were a little stiffer and a little slower, and perhaps Master Meriadoc's belt was rather broad, and perhaps Thain Peregrin's memory wasn't what it used to be, but if anyone ever saw fit to notice it, few bothered to mention it.

It snowed food and it rained drink under the Tree on the Hill in the Shire that night. The stars glimmered brightly in the sky and the Evenstar tarried late behind the sun. A bonfire was lit and its light was caught in the mallorn leaves high above and the hobbits seemed to dine and talk and dance and sing under a glowing cloud of gold. Sam talked long and earnestly with his old friends and seemed more his old self than he had since before his Rosie had died. Finally, Master Samwise stood to his feet and in an unusual show of respect, the hobbits all became quiet before he spoke.

"You're all family and friends here, and since I ain't never been good at speechifying..." this brought forth from the hobbits a little laughter. "I'll just come right out and say what I mean to say. I have lived a good long life, and I reckon I'm blessed to have known so many good hobbits and great people as I have. Today, we are met to celebrate Baggins Day, and I'm glad to see a few Bagginses here tonight. This is really about Bilbo and Frodo and what all they've done for hobbits and a whole world of people who had no idea we were even here. I've tried to live my life so they would be proud of me, just as if they were still here in the Shire. And much as I love the Shire..." The old hobbit looked up at the outstretched branches of the Tree he had planted so long ago. He choked back a sob, thinking of all the trees he had planted after the Shadow and of all his labours through the years and of all the hobbits he had loved. He swallowed hard and steadfastly continued, "...and as much as I love all of you, now that Rosie has gone, if I'm to live, I need to be there..." he said, pointing west, "...with Mr. Frodo. I'll be leaving tonight, under the stars. So now it's time for me to say to you all, as Mr. Bilbo once did many years ago--this is the end. I am going. I am leaving now. Good-bye!" And with that, the old hobbit simply walked out of the lights under the Tree, leaving the surprised hobbits with nothing to say for several minutes. They just looked at one another dumbfounded, and then all began talking at once. Some of the tweens would have run off to follow, but the Thain was firm that none but Merry and himself were to accompany Master Samwise on his last journey. Music was struck up, wine was poured, a new course of dinner was laid, and the conversation turned to the great adventures of the past and to the absorbing doings of the present.

At the garden, the old hobbit was helped by Master Meriadoc up onto a pony and then the three old Companions set off with a couple of dwarves and a spare pony with some baggage. They did not stop until they reached the Tower Hills, where Merry and Pippin said goodbye to him for the last time. He slept and rested there at the home of Elanor, for he was very old and wearied easily these days. But he did not stay long.

Sam gave Elanor a thick book of the finest parchment, bound in red leather. It was the Red Book that Bilbo had begun so long ago with his stories and poems, that Frodo had continued with his own account of the War of the Ring. Sam himself had finished it, with history and ancient legends copied from scrolls and records and books of lore still kept in Rivendell and Gondor. There were only a few copies in all the Shire, one for each of Sam's children and for some of their close friends and relations (and of course for the libraries at the Great Smials and in Brandy Hall). Elanor had been charged with having this work done, and now the Red Book itself was hers.

Elanor's fair face seemed more care-lined now as if the enchantment of youth was leaving with the old hobbit. Her tears fell freely as she and Fastred bid her father a final farewell. As soon as the sun began to set the next day, Sam set out west again with the dwarves for the Grey Havens of the Elves and was never seen again by any hobbit in Middle-earth.




Chapter II

INCIDENT AT THE GREEN DRAGON

It was the very next night, on the evening of September 23nd, 1482 S.R., at the Green Dragon, when Elediriel Cotton read her first poem in public. She had been working for Master Samwise making fair copies of the Red Book for nearly the last year. Being one of the few hobbits who could both read and write, she was hired for the painstaking task of writing and writing and writing again and again and again every word that had been set down in the old book by Bilbo and Frodo and Samwise. The hobbit lass was steeped in the legends and poems and stories and lore perhaps more than anyone else in the entire Shire. It was tedious work, but she was paid well enough and it helped her take care of her poor old mother. Her father had long since passed away and she was their only daughter, born late in life. Perhaps through taking on life's cares and burdens at a young age, she was more mature in some ways than most hobbits in their tweens, but far less experienced in social life. She found that out, when she shared in the Common Room of the Green Dragon on that Baggins Day, a poem she that she had written on her very own. She became very nervous when it was her turn and she almost sat back down, but she made herself go on and chanted before the room in a soft voice that the hobbitry had to strain to hear.

When Shadow to the Shire had come
he too, came home from far away,
from land of dread and mount of Doom,
a land where evil had its day.

From home and hearth he heard the call
and knew at last he must return
from fountain, river, pool and fall,
to stop the ones who kill and burn.

He never faltered, never tired,
and stayed he true the long road there
and back again, the Hamfast sired,
who never shirked a single care.

How he could sing a laughter song
and cheer a heart that's sorrowing;
how he would try to right a wrong
and never trouble borrowing.

With will of iron, he foe assailed,
and faced the monster in her lair
and took the Quest when master failed
and humbled Pride and Darkness there.

O could we ever live to see,
if like the Elves we lived till End,
more blessed folk than you and me
and all who called Good Samwise, friend?

The hobbits applauded politely, some more enthusiastically than others. A couple of old gaffers, with backs bent over their mugs from the weight of years of toil, wiped their eyes with bowed heads beneath their gray hoods, and made then a great fuss over lighting their pipes (as if that covered their heartfelt emotion). Some said the poem was good enough to be a song. Others said it was too strange and sad seeming for that.

And then there were still others who had no appreciation for it at all, at all. These were the hangers on, admirers, and followers of young Ned Sandyman, the Mayor's son. They also happened to be his employees, since these were the only sort of hobbits who would work for him. Ever since his father had turned Sandyman's Mercantile Store over to Ned, a braggadocious hobbit not long out of his tweens, he had been insufferable. And since his father had narrowly won reelection as Mayor of Hobbiton, he had been intolerable. He cruelly jeered at the young hobbit lass.

"What was all of that?" he asked, and then proceeded to answer himself. "Elves, and pools, and quests, and a lot of rhyming nonsense!" said Ned Sandyman. "That's what comes of learning girls their letters!" His followers and a few other hobbits laughed as if he had said something clever. Little Elediriel was stunned and looked as if she might just screw up and start bawling. Turgon and Fingon, the Took Twins, grandsons of Thain Peregrin and of Master Samwise alike, stood as one and walked right up to the sneering shopkeeper.

"Our grandfather..." began Turgon.

"...was a hero..." continued Fingon.

"...and you will take those words back!" finished Turgon.

"Or what?" taunted Ned, who had never liked Turry or Furry, as most of the Shire called them. He had been quite jealous of them growing up and for some reason, his entire family never much cared for these hobbits who thought they were so high and lordly. The Twins began to get boiling bad now.

"Or we'll flatten your face, that's what!" shouted Turry. The hobbits in the room started shouting, hoping for a fight. More than half the room wanted to see the Tooks mop up the floor with Sandyman. Some waited to see their Boss humiliate the uppity hobbits. Almost all of them anticipated a great fight. It looked about even: the big Tooks against all of Sandyman's boys, for no one doubted that was how it was about to turn out. Money almost immediately started changing hands, and Gaffer Brockhouse was giving odds in favor of the Twins. Turgon, or Turry, looked grim. Fingon, or Furry, just looked furious. Ned had a number of sturdy hobbits around him. So he laughed in their faces, though he was a thin wiry hobbit and they were uncommonly large and strong. Ned had a sharp mind and a sharper tongue and had already thought of what he would say to the glowering Took Twins.

"Well, the old gardener might have been a hero, but then, those might just be stories the lot of them told to explain how they came by what they got. We only have their word for it. And the word of folks who believe in such fairy tales. It's a Man's world now, and any Hobbit's that's smart enough to be a part of it. But even if there were heroes, and even if old Samwise was one himself, we can all see that you're not! Look at you, trying to take on little old me two to one. All right then, one at a time," he licked his lips and grinned wickedly. "Which one takes his lickin' first?"

Right away both of the Took Twins stepped forward. But Turry, who was older by a few minutes wanted to be first, and so did the furious Furry, and the clever Sandyman knew, as did all the Shire, how competitive the brothers were. Soon they fell to pushing and pulling and holding one another back and many of the hobbits in the Green Dragon had to laugh. The sly shopkeeper egged it on.

"Look at them! They're so afraid that they can't decide who gets to be last!"

At that, the tavern was filled with laughter, and rude catcalls from Sandyman's hobbits. That was almost more than he had bargained for. Now the Tooks were ready to beat him into the floor whether anyone thought it was fair or not. But they collided into each other and fell sprawling across a table. The hobbitry roared with loud shouts of laughter and a genuine barroom brawl might have started right there in the Green Dragon if Madrigal Brandybuck had not put a stop to it. As Ned exulted in his glee at the expense of the Took Twins, he heard Maddie's sweet voice behind him. He turned to look at the lass, for she was pretty, in a wild dryad fashion, with a long untamable mane of tight brown curls. Quite a few in the room stopped what they were doing and paid attention, ignoring the Took Twins struggling up from the tavern floor.

"Ned," she said sweetly, "this is for my grandfather and for all the heroes everywhere." And with that, and with no other fanfare, would you believe the pretty hobbit lass knotted up her little fist and punched him hard and square, straight in the nose?

The roof of the tavern rattled on the rafters and would have raised right off if the hobbits had laughed any louder or longer! Sandyman lay on the floor with a bleeding nose, his hobbits fumbling and bumping into each other to see what they could do for him. Elediriel just stood there with her leather-bound manuscripts in her arms and a shy grin spreading across her delighted face. Maddie grabbed her by the hand and led her out the door, still looking back, and the Took Twins grinned and followed the girls into the night. Some of the older hobbits decided that this was a good time for them to leave as well, since nothing would top that, and they filtered out of the Green Dragon. This would be the talk of the Shire in the morning!

The boys were quite cheerful now that all had turned out well enough. Maddie was still furious. She might have been happier to know that with her punch, she had not only broken Sandyman's nose, but had given him two black eyes that were already starting to darken. Those black eyes stayed with Ned for a long time, and folk took to calling him "Bandit" Sandyman. The name stuck for the rest of his mean little life, being all the funnier not only as a joke about his appearance, but as an apt description of his well-known business practices.

But Maddie did not know this at the time and so an angry storm of words surged through her lips as they walked down the Road and up the Hill to sit under the Tree. As the hobbits marched up the Hill, Turry and Furry began to sing a little song that the two of them made up on the spot. They did not notice the gray shadows that followed them.

Turry sang first,

"Ned came into the Dragon's den
And slurred and slandered our kith and kin
For many a year he'd made it clear:
He did not like those heroes!
Up Nose! Weirdoes!
He did not like those heroes!"

Then it was Furry's turn:

"Then Madrigal, our dear old pal,
Stood right up, the prettiest gal,
She looked so sweet, on her velvet feet,
That Ned just stood there gawking!
Talking! Squawking!
She looked so sweet, on her velvet feet,
That Ned just stood there gawking!"

Not to be outdone, Turry finished:

"She laid Ned low with a single blow
So everyone in the Shire would know
Though Maddie's nice, you'd best think twice
Of talking down her Heroes!
Trash those? Smash nose!
Though Maddie's nice, you'd best think twice
And don't down talk her Heroes!"

They sang it through thrice, louder each time, and, by the time they got to the Tree, Maddie's fury had passed and she was laughing merrily with Elediriel at the silly boys. They all lay down in the grass and looked up at the stars and talked and laughed some more. The Moon was bright, but hidden above the high branches of the Tree. The golden mallorn-leaves glimmered with silver moonshine. Elediriel sighed and was ever so happy to be there with her new found friends. She had never had many before that night and lay there keenly realizing what she had been missing.

Turry lifted up on an elbow and looked over at the bookish hobbit girl, gazing up into the boughs above. She had fine golden hair and a pretty face, but she was no stunning beauty like Madrigal. Still, she had a sweet shy smile, and he thought her poetry fine. They were all young hobbits in their tweens and as tweenagers will, they thought often, though in hobbit fashion, not seriously, about the opposite gender. As you may have noticed from their rhyming, Furry was quite smitten with Maddie, and Turry was not far behind his brother in that regard. He looked at the Brandybuck lass and with a little annoyance saw Furry doing the same. As for Maddie, she thought the two of them quite amusing and did not know which one she liked better, and being unable to tell them apart anyway, kept both the Twins on a string, along with half the tweenaged boys in the Shire. But her attention was on the glowing leaves of gold high above, as they gleamed with silver and rippled in the breezes that gently stirred through the mighty limbs of the enchanted tree.

They themselves were all being watched from the shadows. Two shapes had moved quietly behind them and now blended unseen into the hedge bordering the Party field. Even if you had been on the lookout, straining your ears to hear and your eyes to see, I doubt you would have noticed the figures, for they seemed to be little more than gray shadows, a part of the grass and the rocks and the foliage that they passed near. You would have rubbed your eyes and thought maybe you only imagined a trick of the shadows in the moonlight. As for the hobbits under the Tree in the heart of the Shire, they never even thought to look and never imagined that they were the objects of such stealthy scrutiny.

The young hobbits fell to talking of the olden stories and were amazed at how much Elediriel knew about them. In that magical way that seems as right as rain, they all became inseparable friends that very night under the Tree. Soon, the Twins had nicknamed their new friend Ellie, since Elediriel was too fine a name for casual use, as Turry pointed out. Many of their generation had been given Elvish names, or names that the hobbits thought sounded Elvish. They begged her and she gladly promised she would bring her manuscripts and, if they were ever so careful and only touched them with clean dry hands, she would let them read for themselves the words she had transcribed herself right out of the Red Book.

"It's too bad we can't see the Red Book itself," lamented Furry.

"Maybe Mistress Elanor will let us look at it one day. Master Samwise always said that he would leave it to her. I only got to see it long enough myself to make the first copy," Ellie said. "But he checked it himself to make sure it was absolutely perfect and then locked the Red Book safely away. Then, I made my own copy from the copy! But I am oh-so-careful with even with the copies, for the parchments are costly."

They talked a little more and then thought it time for sleep. The Twins and Maddie each had rooms they had long before rented for the little private holiday. They escorted Ellie first to her mother's humble little hole and then went back down the Road to the Green Dragon, the Twins singing their song again for Maddie. Ellie watched them until they were out of sight and listened until they were out of hearing. She thought she saw shadows cross the Road after them, but looked again and saw nothing. She went in the little round front door and found her mother waiting up for her.

"Hullo, child! Did you have a nice reading?"

"Oh Mother! I had the most wonderful time!"

"It sounded like it! Who were those boys singing that song?" her mother asked. She looked fondly at her daughter and saw a brightness on her face that she had not seen there since before Odo had died. Her husband had been a fine hobbit and a good father, and his passing had left its mark on the hobbit lass. She had done all she could to make her little girl happy, even encouraging her when she wanted to learn her letters, something that relatively few hobbits lads and fewer hobbit lasses ever learned well, and something her mother hoped would not come to trouble. But now the lonely widow took joy from the sight of her daughter's happiness, glad to see she had at last found some friends.

They talked for a long time into the night, over cups of tea and butter cookies. Her old mother had to hear everything that had happened and Ellie could not have held back from telling her. The fire died low in the hearth that Odo Cotton had built and they went to bed and slept deeply and contentedly, the aged widow and her happy daughter. Had anyone been there to tuck them in, they would have seen identical smiles on their sleepy faces.