frodobaggins
FRODO'S JOURNAL - A day in the life of a Hobbit of the Shire. (Pre-Quest Years)
A Friendly Wager
lord of the rings"No matter which way you turn, there’s a lovely view..." Fastred Brandybuck commented with a sigh.
He had to be referring to the feminine presence in the common room of the Ivy Bush, for the rest of the view left much to be desired. I was fairly certain that Fastred was in particular, alluding to Bennie Baggins, who was engaged in a conversation with the tavern keeper, and also to Mundee Baggins, who sat at a table, not surprisingly, on the other side of the room, talking to an elderly hobbitess with a mob cap so large it threatened to engulf her entire head and face.
"That’s it is." Folco Boffin readily agreed.
Fastred sighed again and turned his eyes back in Bennie’s direction. Bennie had at one time, been promised to Fastred, but she had broken off the engagement and since that time, the friendship between Fastred and I had been somewhat strined. Not on my part, however, for I held no ill feelings for him. (Although, some part of me was relieved that the wedding had not taken place. For some reason, the thought of Bennie as Fastred’s wife, unsettled me.) But Fastred blamed me for Bennie jilting him.
"Almost inspires one to try a hand at writing romantic poetry." Fastred said, interrupting my contemplation. For a moment I wondered just what in the Shire he was talking about, then I realized he was still on the subject of the two Baggins girls.
"Ha!" Ted Sandyman scoffed as he took a draw on his pipe. "Just because ye might get lucky enough to turn a pretty phrase or two for th’ ladies, don’t mean you’re a poet laur-ee-ate. Ye think you could impress the likes o’ them girls? I doubt as either one would give ye the time o’ day. Everyone knows that both of ‘em only have eyes for th’ Master of Bag End."
The way in which Ted said the last four words made me think he was goading me as much as he was Fastred. As a matter of fact, a slight furrow had begun to form on Fastred’s forehead as Ted was speaking and it deepened considerably at Sandyman’s next remark.
"Why, ye couldn’t hold onto Bennie when she was betrothed to ye! Wasn’t it for Frodo, here that she threw you over?"
I cleared my throat and made a slight gesture to indicate to Ted that enough was enough, and it might be better for everyone involved if he didn’t pursue that particular subject. However, Fastred merely scooted his chair back from the table a few inches and crossed his arms with a thoughtful expression.
"Bennie don’t know what or who is good for her...and for that matter, neither does Mundee."
This statement provoked a few guffaws from both Sandyman and Folco.
"And you know somethin’ else?" Fastred continued, not in the least daunted. "I’ll wager that when it comes to ‘turning a pretty phrase’, as you called it, I can be every bit as eloquent as Master Baggins." He finished with a defiant lift of his chin as he fixed me with a determined stare.
"Ah...do I detect a hint of a challenge?" Asked Folco.
"Fastred, honestly I don’t see why-"I began to protest but Fastred cut me cleanly off.
"Yes, that’s right. A challenge. I challenge Frodo to a contest to see who can write a piece of poetry that will impress both Bennie and Mundee." He answered Folco, but his eyes never left mine.
Sandyman beamed broadly and rubbed his hands together, thoroughly enjoying the idea of such a contest. "I can almost feel my pockets gettin’ heavier from all the coins I’m goin’ to win on this wager! Sorry Fastred, but my money’s on Frodo."
Fastred shot the miller’s son a dark look.
"Let’s see...we shall have to lay down some ground rules...." Folco mused absently.
"Ahem! I regret having to put a damper on your fun, but I haven’t accepted the challenge." I pointed out.
Three pairs of eyes turned towards me, waiting expectantly.
"Well, Frodo?" Asked Fastred. "Are you afraid you’re not up to the challenge?"
"No...it’s not fear of losing that makes me hesitate. I simply don’t know what it would prove. Have you stopped to think that the feelings of Mundee and Bennie are also at stake here?"
"Oh come on, Frodo, it’s all harmless fun!" Ted exclaimed. "And anyway, It’s not as if we’re not daft enough to tell them they’re the centers of a contest."
"Well, even so, they’re both great sports. They like a bit of fun as much as the next chap...er...lass..." Folco insisted.
"What do you say, Frodo?" Fastred’s eyes met mine and once again I detected a touch of defiance in his air.
I suppose I should have declined, but something in that insolent stare wouldn’t let me and I found myself nodding, ever so slightly in acquiescence. Folco wasted no time in getting down to business and in short order he had established a set of rules.
Fastred and I each had to come up with one, and only one original piece of poetry, to serve for both girls. (A dangerous venture, that!) The piece could be no longer than ten lines, but no shorter than four. (All the easier to memorize, on such short notice, for it could not be read.) It must sound spontaneous and inspired and it must delight and thrill both of the girls to the point of eliciting a kiss from both of them. We had two days to come up with the verses, upon which time we were to meet back at the Ivy Bush. Folco was sure that he and Fredegar could come up with convincing enough stories to lure Mundee and Bennie there, as well.
In no time at all, the male clientele of the Ivy bush were laying odds and one could almost, already detect the sound of money changing hands....
**************************************************
"So, Frodo..have you come up with a winning verse yet?" Pippin asked, as he scooted his chair closer to the table.
"Not yet." I replied, blowing on my tea to cool it. The alotted time was almost up and I was still no closer to coming up with a satisfactory verse.
We, that is, Pippin, Merry, Sam and I were seated at the large oak table in Bag End’s kitchen. Sam had just come in from the garden and I had offered him a cup of tea just as Merry and Pippin happened to appear almost magically, as if the smell of the sweet seed cakes and freshly brewed tea had enticed them to my doorstep. They had wasted no time in questioning me about the impending competition between me and Fastred. Amazing as it seemed, word of the contest had already reached Tuckborough and Brandy Hall. According to Merry, many bets had already been placed at the Hall as to the outcome.
"Well, Frodo, I hate to bring this up, but the contest is tomorrow." Merry was good enough to remind me. "Have you at least given any thought as to what you might write?"
"Some."
"Aren’t you at all worried?" Pippin asked with surprise in his voice, which implied that if I wasn’t worried, he at least was, leading me to suspect that he had placed his money on me and was now beginning to question the wisdom of that choice.
"Ummm...no, not really." I answered, as I took a sip of my tea.
"Not even a little?" Pippin pursued the matter.
"No."
"Why in the Shire not?" It was Merry’s turn to sound alarmed.
"Because, in my opinion, the whole contest is silly."
"Well, silly or not," Merry said, "you can’t back out now! And, you can’t let Fastred win. I have a tidy sum riding on your eloquence. Anyway, Fastred is full enough of himself as it is, especially when it comes to females. If he wins, he’ll be totally unbearable." Merry’s face suddenly took on a sly look. "Besides, If you thought it was so silly, why did you agree to the contest in the first place?"
He had me there. I looked Merry square in the eye and admitted, "I let foolish pride rule my better judgement. I should never have let Fastred goad me into accepting his challenge."
But even now, the thought of Fastred strutting and gloating about his conquests over Bennie and Mundee vexed me like the buzzing of an annoying gnat. As a result, I added, "Don’t worry, I don’t intend to back down."
"If that’s the case, Mr. Frodo, you’d best get busy and come up with somethin’ that’ll put that braggart, Fastred t’ shame."
We all turned to look at Sam, who had been silent up until this moment. He coloured up a bit, then admitted slowly, "Oi ‘ave a fair amount staked on you, too."
I could feel a smile beginning to play about the corners of my mouth. It was rather gratifying to know that my friends had so much confidence in me. I would feel very bad indeed if I let them down.
"Well,"Pippin proclaimed, setting his teacup back in its saucer with a rattle. "While we’re here, we might as well be of some use. Perhaps we can help you come up with a verse or two."
"You?" Sam asked with a hint of skeptical derision in his tone.
"I said, ‘We’" Pippin reiterated wearing a broad grin, evidence that he hadn’t taken offense at Sam’s expressed doubt.
"Thank you. " I said. "As much as I appreciate the offer, I’m afraid that would be cheating."
Merry’s eyebrows rose. "And you don’t think Fastred will cheat?"
"Be that as it may, I don’t aspire to cheating."
"No...you’re just going to let him walk away as the better poet," Pippin lamented, "without even giving it a decent effort."
"Actually, I have done some pondering on what to write, but the same verse keeps popping into my head..." I mused, then looked up to see my companions waiting with interested expressions.
* "The red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose breathes of love;
O, the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove."
"You see, the metaphor of two different coloured roses and two types of birds could also be a metaphor for the two girls."
"Oh...I see...The red rose is Bennie and the white rose is Mundee!" Pippin observed.
Merry grinned and agreed. "How like them."
"That’s perfect, Mr. Frodo!" Sam added his approval.
"Well...not really." I shook my head and was met with looks of puzzled dismay. "For one thing, as lovely as the verse is, it is a comparison, and while I don’t claim to be an expert at wooing the fairer sex, I would hazard a guess that no girl wants to be compared to another. Even if it was all I could come up with, I still couldn’t use it for the simple fact that the verse is not my own composition."
"It’s not?" Asked Sam. "Then whose is it?"
"I don’t know the author’s name, it remains anonymous, but I found it some time ago in one of Bilbo’s old books. It’s a translation of an ancient Elvish rhyme."
"Too bad." Said Merry, taking a thoughtful bite out of a seed cake.
I sighed as I promised, "I shall buckle down tonight and try very hard to come up an original verse of my own. Which means, that if I’m actually going to attempt to win this contest, I’ll need to concentrate."
Three bodies sat motionless, in various stages of eating cake or drinking tea, refusing to take the hint.
I tried again. "Which means...at the risk of appearing rude, that I need some quiet and solitude."
"Of course, how thoughtless of us!" Merry jumped up, then poked Sam and Pippin, who moved a bit more slowly.
"Mr. Frodo, if there’s anythin’ I can get you before I leave..." Sam offered.
"I’ll be fine, Sam, but thank you."
Pippin stopped at the kitchen threshold and turned back to face me, with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Frodo, if you do beat Fastred, just think of what you might win, kisses from Bennie and Mundee. That should give you plenty of incentive to come up with the perfect verse."
"Oh that’s good, Pip! That will really keep his concentration from straying." With that, Merry shoved the other two out of the kitchen and ultimately out of the hole, leaving me to finish my tea while I gave serious thought as to what I would pen...
* The verse above is of course, not of Elvish origin. It is from A white Rose, by John Boyle O'Reilly ( 1844-1890)
He had to be referring to the feminine presence in the common room of the Ivy Bush, for the rest of the view left much to be desired. I was fairly certain that Fastred was in particular, alluding to Bennie Baggins, who was engaged in a conversation with the tavern keeper, and also to Mundee Baggins, who sat at a table, not surprisingly, on the other side of the room, talking to an elderly hobbitess with a mob cap so large it threatened to engulf her entire head and face.
"That’s it is." Folco Boffin readily agreed.
Fastred sighed again and turned his eyes back in Bennie’s direction. Bennie had at one time, been promised to Fastred, but she had broken off the engagement and since that time, the friendship between Fastred and I had been somewhat strined. Not on my part, however, for I held no ill feelings for him. (Although, some part of me was relieved that the wedding had not taken place. For some reason, the thought of Bennie as Fastred’s wife, unsettled me.) But Fastred blamed me for Bennie jilting him.
"Almost inspires one to try a hand at writing romantic poetry." Fastred said, interrupting my contemplation. For a moment I wondered just what in the Shire he was talking about, then I realized he was still on the subject of the two Baggins girls.
"Ha!" Ted Sandyman scoffed as he took a draw on his pipe. "Just because ye might get lucky enough to turn a pretty phrase or two for th’ ladies, don’t mean you’re a poet laur-ee-ate. Ye think you could impress the likes o’ them girls? I doubt as either one would give ye the time o’ day. Everyone knows that both of ‘em only have eyes for th’ Master of Bag End."
The way in which Ted said the last four words made me think he was goading me as much as he was Fastred. As a matter of fact, a slight furrow had begun to form on Fastred’s forehead as Ted was speaking and it deepened considerably at Sandyman’s next remark.
"Why, ye couldn’t hold onto Bennie when she was betrothed to ye! Wasn’t it for Frodo, here that she threw you over?"
I cleared my throat and made a slight gesture to indicate to Ted that enough was enough, and it might be better for everyone involved if he didn’t pursue that particular subject. However, Fastred merely scooted his chair back from the table a few inches and crossed his arms with a thoughtful expression.
"Bennie don’t know what or who is good for her...and for that matter, neither does Mundee."
This statement provoked a few guffaws from both Sandyman and Folco.
"And you know somethin’ else?" Fastred continued, not in the least daunted. "I’ll wager that when it comes to ‘turning a pretty phrase’, as you called it, I can be every bit as eloquent as Master Baggins." He finished with a defiant lift of his chin as he fixed me with a determined stare.
"Ah...do I detect a hint of a challenge?" Asked Folco.
"Fastred, honestly I don’t see why-"I began to protest but Fastred cut me cleanly off.
"Yes, that’s right. A challenge. I challenge Frodo to a contest to see who can write a piece of poetry that will impress both Bennie and Mundee." He answered Folco, but his eyes never left mine.
Sandyman beamed broadly and rubbed his hands together, thoroughly enjoying the idea of such a contest. "I can almost feel my pockets gettin’ heavier from all the coins I’m goin’ to win on this wager! Sorry Fastred, but my money’s on Frodo."
Fastred shot the miller’s son a dark look.
"Let’s see...we shall have to lay down some ground rules...." Folco mused absently.
"Ahem! I regret having to put a damper on your fun, but I haven’t accepted the challenge." I pointed out.
Three pairs of eyes turned towards me, waiting expectantly.
"Well, Frodo?" Asked Fastred. "Are you afraid you’re not up to the challenge?"
"No...it’s not fear of losing that makes me hesitate. I simply don’t know what it would prove. Have you stopped to think that the feelings of Mundee and Bennie are also at stake here?"
"Oh come on, Frodo, it’s all harmless fun!" Ted exclaimed. "And anyway, It’s not as if we’re not daft enough to tell them they’re the centers of a contest."
"Well, even so, they’re both great sports. They like a bit of fun as much as the next chap...er...lass..." Folco insisted.
"What do you say, Frodo?" Fastred’s eyes met mine and once again I detected a touch of defiance in his air.
I suppose I should have declined, but something in that insolent stare wouldn’t let me and I found myself nodding, ever so slightly in acquiescence. Folco wasted no time in getting down to business and in short order he had established a set of rules.
Fastred and I each had to come up with one, and only one original piece of poetry, to serve for both girls. (A dangerous venture, that!) The piece could be no longer than ten lines, but no shorter than four. (All the easier to memorize, on such short notice, for it could not be read.) It must sound spontaneous and inspired and it must delight and thrill both of the girls to the point of eliciting a kiss from both of them. We had two days to come up with the verses, upon which time we were to meet back at the Ivy Bush. Folco was sure that he and Fredegar could come up with convincing enough stories to lure Mundee and Bennie there, as well.
In no time at all, the male clientele of the Ivy bush were laying odds and one could almost, already detect the sound of money changing hands....
**************************************************
"So, Frodo..have you come up with a winning verse yet?" Pippin asked, as he scooted his chair closer to the table.
"Not yet." I replied, blowing on my tea to cool it. The alotted time was almost up and I was still no closer to coming up with a satisfactory verse.
We, that is, Pippin, Merry, Sam and I were seated at the large oak table in Bag End’s kitchen. Sam had just come in from the garden and I had offered him a cup of tea just as Merry and Pippin happened to appear almost magically, as if the smell of the sweet seed cakes and freshly brewed tea had enticed them to my doorstep. They had wasted no time in questioning me about the impending competition between me and Fastred. Amazing as it seemed, word of the contest had already reached Tuckborough and Brandy Hall. According to Merry, many bets had already been placed at the Hall as to the outcome.
"Well, Frodo, I hate to bring this up, but the contest is tomorrow." Merry was good enough to remind me. "Have you at least given any thought as to what you might write?"
"Some."
"Aren’t you at all worried?" Pippin asked with surprise in his voice, which implied that if I wasn’t worried, he at least was, leading me to suspect that he had placed his money on me and was now beginning to question the wisdom of that choice.
"Ummm...no, not really." I answered, as I took a sip of my tea.
"Not even a little?" Pippin pursued the matter.
"No."
"Why in the Shire not?" It was Merry’s turn to sound alarmed.
"Because, in my opinion, the whole contest is silly."
"Well, silly or not," Merry said, "you can’t back out now! And, you can’t let Fastred win. I have a tidy sum riding on your eloquence. Anyway, Fastred is full enough of himself as it is, especially when it comes to females. If he wins, he’ll be totally unbearable." Merry’s face suddenly took on a sly look. "Besides, If you thought it was so silly, why did you agree to the contest in the first place?"
He had me there. I looked Merry square in the eye and admitted, "I let foolish pride rule my better judgement. I should never have let Fastred goad me into accepting his challenge."
But even now, the thought of Fastred strutting and gloating about his conquests over Bennie and Mundee vexed me like the buzzing of an annoying gnat. As a result, I added, "Don’t worry, I don’t intend to back down."
"If that’s the case, Mr. Frodo, you’d best get busy and come up with somethin’ that’ll put that braggart, Fastred t’ shame."
We all turned to look at Sam, who had been silent up until this moment. He coloured up a bit, then admitted slowly, "Oi ‘ave a fair amount staked on you, too."
I could feel a smile beginning to play about the corners of my mouth. It was rather gratifying to know that my friends had so much confidence in me. I would feel very bad indeed if I let them down.
"Well,"Pippin proclaimed, setting his teacup back in its saucer with a rattle. "While we’re here, we might as well be of some use. Perhaps we can help you come up with a verse or two."
"You?" Sam asked with a hint of skeptical derision in his tone.
"I said, ‘We’" Pippin reiterated wearing a broad grin, evidence that he hadn’t taken offense at Sam’s expressed doubt.
"Thank you. " I said. "As much as I appreciate the offer, I’m afraid that would be cheating."
Merry’s eyebrows rose. "And you don’t think Fastred will cheat?"
"Be that as it may, I don’t aspire to cheating."
"No...you’re just going to let him walk away as the better poet," Pippin lamented, "without even giving it a decent effort."
"Actually, I have done some pondering on what to write, but the same verse keeps popping into my head..." I mused, then looked up to see my companions waiting with interested expressions.
* "The red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose breathes of love;
O, the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove."
"You see, the metaphor of two different coloured roses and two types of birds could also be a metaphor for the two girls."
"Oh...I see...The red rose is Bennie and the white rose is Mundee!" Pippin observed.
Merry grinned and agreed. "How like them."
"That’s perfect, Mr. Frodo!" Sam added his approval.
"Well...not really." I shook my head and was met with looks of puzzled dismay. "For one thing, as lovely as the verse is, it is a comparison, and while I don’t claim to be an expert at wooing the fairer sex, I would hazard a guess that no girl wants to be compared to another. Even if it was all I could come up with, I still couldn’t use it for the simple fact that the verse is not my own composition."
"It’s not?" Asked Sam. "Then whose is it?"
"I don’t know the author’s name, it remains anonymous, but I found it some time ago in one of Bilbo’s old books. It’s a translation of an ancient Elvish rhyme."
"Too bad." Said Merry, taking a thoughtful bite out of a seed cake.
I sighed as I promised, "I shall buckle down tonight and try very hard to come up an original verse of my own. Which means, that if I’m actually going to attempt to win this contest, I’ll need to concentrate."
Three bodies sat motionless, in various stages of eating cake or drinking tea, refusing to take the hint.
I tried again. "Which means...at the risk of appearing rude, that I need some quiet and solitude."
"Of course, how thoughtless of us!" Merry jumped up, then poked Sam and Pippin, who moved a bit more slowly.
"Mr. Frodo, if there’s anythin’ I can get you before I leave..." Sam offered.
"I’ll be fine, Sam, but thank you."
Pippin stopped at the kitchen threshold and turned back to face me, with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Frodo, if you do beat Fastred, just think of what you might win, kisses from Bennie and Mundee. That should give you plenty of incentive to come up with the perfect verse."
"Oh that’s good, Pip! That will really keep his concentration from straying." With that, Merry shoved the other two out of the kitchen and ultimately out of the hole, leaving me to finish my tea while I gave serious thought as to what I would pen...
* The verse above is of course, not of Elvish origin. It is from A white Rose, by John Boyle O'Reilly ( 1844-1890)
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