FRODO'S JOURNAL - A day in the life of a Hobbit of the Shire. (Pre-Quest Years)

I woke to an exceptionally warm, winter morning. The sun shone so bright and cheerfully through the parlour window that had I not know the date, and glimpsed leafless branches upon the trees, I might have mistook the day for one in early spring.

I am not an early riser by habit. In fact, I’ve been known to sleep past first breakfast. This was just the case on this particular morning. So, by the time I finished my first morning meal, which would properly should have been second breakfast, the brilliant, winter sun was already beginning to climb higher in the sky.

I wanted to get out and savor this break in the weather. So, after quickly clearing away teacup and toast crumbs, I flung on my cloak, intent on walking into Hobbiton to see who else might be out and about enjoying the fine day.

As I stepped outside, the surrounding air still held a definite chill. It was still winter, after all. But underlying the nippy breeze, the air was tinged with warmth. I had just turned to pull the door to, when, behind me on the road below, the unmistakable clip clop of pony hooves came to my ears, not one pony, but two.

I turned back to face the road and there was Cousin Bennie, riding up the path, leading another pony behind. The left hind leg of the riderless animal was marked with a white stocking that climbed nearly to the hock, distinguishing her as Patience, the pony Bennie had lent me for my last trek to Tuckborough.

Bennie brought her ponies to a halt at my gate and greeted me with a vivacious, "Good morning, Frodo!"

She made no move to dismount, waiting patiently on her mount until I came to her. As I drew closer, it dawned on me that Patience was tacked up. It was obvious what my pretty cousin had in mind.

I shoved my hands in my pockets. "Hullo, Bennie."

"Unusually fine weather we’re having, isn’t it?"

"Yes, it is." I replied, as I took note of her riding attire. It was of rich, blue velvet, cut to show her slender figure to best advantage. The total effect was quite fetching. If she had chosen the ensemble in order to catch my attention, she had succeeded.

"There’s no telling how long this warmer weather will last. I figured I might as well take advantage of such a lovely day and go for a ride. It makes a nice change for the ponies, too. They need to get out of the stable, or see something other than the same old pasture."

"I never thought about it, but I suppose they do get bored at times." I replied.

"Of course they do, especially in the winter time! Keeping them shut up makes for all sorts of bad habits. Boredom can make ponies...and people, naughty, you know..." She said, flashing a disarmingly saucy smile at me.

"Yes...but, unlike ponies, hobbits know better." I was aware that my cheeks felt slightly warm.

"Some know better than others." She answered with a light-hearted laugh. "And being the gentlehobbit that you are, I wondered if perhaps you might help me out?"

She frowned ever so slightly as she pronounced "gentlehobbit," almost as if she found the word distasteful. But by the time she got around to the next question, she had composed her face back into the picture of feminine sweetness.

"Poor Patience needs to be exercised. She’s hardly been out of the stable at all, since you rode her to Tuckborough. So, Frodo, would you be a dear and go for a ride with me? You’d be doing both Patience and me a favor, by giving her some much needed conditioning, and at the same time, keeping me company. That is, of course, if you’re no too terribly, busy at the moment." She finished with a winsome smile.

"Well...I suppose I could just...Where is your Father?"

Bennie’s smile took on a cunning aspect. "He and Mother went back to Woodhall, yesterday."

"Oh."

So, that explained why she had wasted no time in appearing at my door today. Why in the Shire didn’t I just decline her request and send her on her merry way? Instead, I found myself climbing into Patience’s saddle and trotting down the road at a jaunty clip.

Instead of heading for the center of Hobbiton, as I had intended to do on my ill-fated walk, we struck out in the opposite direction. I had to admit, we couldn’t have found a better Afteryule day for a leisurely ride. Not a breeze stirred, the sky was a lovely blue, instead of drab grey and the surrounding air that had for so long been sharp and frigid, now wrapped us in the tenuous warmth of the winter sun.

Our route took us back past Bennie’s farm and as we drew closer, we were greeted with a chorus of raucous baying. A black, tan and white steak came barreling at us, followed by a host of similarly marked companions, all yapping in disharmony.

"I wonder how they got out!" Bennie exclaimed. "I thought I had them safely put away."

The dogs were now upon us, leaping about with excited yips. The ponies however, didn’t seem to mind at all. They were used to such a fracas, living with it most everyday..

Bennie looked at me apologetically. "Give me a moment, Frodo, and I’ll put them away."

There was nothing to do but dismount and offer my assistance. After about twenty minutes of running about in circles, only to catch one hound, put it way, then have it escape again, when the gate to the enclosure was opened, we were no better off than when we started. If anything, we were worse for wear. Bennie’s blue velvet sported the muddy pattern of a paw print, here and there, and as I drew my sleeve across my forehead to wipe away what felt like a trickle of sweat, I noticed the distinct whiff of dog clung to my jacket.

It was also about then that I noticed one of the dogs in the enclosure, wriggling free from under the fence. Closer examination revealed a freshly dug hole, large enough for at least two hounds at a time to slip through.

Bennie muttered something under her breath. I’m not sure exactly what it was, but I have a feeling that it was not the sort of language one usually hears from proper, young, hobbit ladies.

I had a sudden vision of Bennie’s hounds running rampant and wreaking havoc throughout Hobbiton. "Perhaps we’d better fill in that hole. Have you a shovel?" I asked.

"Don’t you even think of it, Frodo!" She protested. " I didn’t invite you out for a ride to have you end up lugging shovelfuls of dirt. There are a couple of the village lads that come round the place to do handy work. I’ll have one of them see to it, later. "

I must have looked surprised, for she added. "You didn’t think I tried to manage the place all by myself, did you?"

"You’re certainly stubborn enough to try." I said with a grin.

She flashed me a charming smile in return and suggested, "Well, shall we continue our ride? We can just let the dogs come with us, if you don’t mind. They might enjoy the exercise, too."

We climbed into our saddles once more and continued on our way, with Rascal and about a dozen of his fellows romping alongside. Bennie had no qualms about cutting across her neighbors’ fields. Of course, this time of year there was little danger in trampling someone’s crops. Still, it made me just a little uncomfortable. Ever since Farmer Maggot caught me raiding his mushrooms and set his dogs after me, I’ve had a healthy respect for the property of others. And, the sight and sound of baying dogs are enough to make me apprehensive. Come to think of it, I’m a little surprised that I so readily volunteered to help Bennie round up her dogs. But for the fact that I was somewhat familiar with them and knew that they were mostly bark instead of bite, unless you happened to be a rabbit or a fox, I probably wouldn’t have placed myself so quickly in the midst of that whirling, yapping, flea-scratching frenzy.

Now, however, Rascal and company had left off barking and capering, and were preoccupied with keeping noses to the ground, sniffing every rock and twig, in ever widening circles. Every now and then, one would run some little ways from his companions to sniff at a lonely brush pile, or some other such object. I was enjoying the conversation so much that soon, I almost forgot the hounds had accompanied us. Bennie talked about her plans for her farm and about her father’s newest acquisitions for his pony farm in Woodhall. I found myself listening with interest, even though I knew little enough about ponies. There was no doubt, however that Bennie knew her business, she had been riding almost before she could walk and had spent countless hours playing in her father’s stables, much to her mother’s disapproval.

At some point, our conversation was cut short by the sudden cry of a hound raised in the excitement of discovery. He was soon joined in his discordant song by the others as they bolted off in a blur of tri-colored fur after whatever prey they had caught scent of.

"Most likely, they’re onto a rabbit." Bennie commented.

Our ponies’ ears pricked forward and they danced with anticipation as they followed the movement of the disappearing dogs. Bennie laughed merrily and added, referring to the ponies, "They want to follow the dogs."

"Then, shall we?" I asked.

Bennie’s answer was to put her heels to her mount, causing the pony to spring into a gallop. It proved unnecessary for me to use the same cue on Patience. The pony was so used to following her pasture mates that she pursued instantly. I have never claimed to be an expert equestrian, but I know enough to be able to stay on a swiftly moving pony. In front of me, I saw Bennie’s pony leap over a low stone wall. It had been a while since I had taken fences on the back of a pony, I fervently hoped that I’d remember what to do. Fortunately, Patience knew more than me and we sailed over the hurdle and landed, unscathed, on the other side. The experience of the headlong dash and effortless flight over the wall was thrilling. To my delight, we fairly flew over two more obstacles, each a little higher than the last, it seemed.

Filled with bravado after the previous successes, I hoped for the opportunity to take on something more challenging. Shortly after, that opportunity presented itself in the form of a gorse hedge, about 3 and a half feet, or more, in height. I noticed that Bennie had slowed her mount and skirted round it. Maybe I put her reluctance down to the fact that she didn’t want to chance further ruin to her frock. If I had been thinking clearly and not intent on proving what a skilled rider I was, it might have dawned on me that Bennie wouldn’t have backed down from a jump unless she considered it too risky.

As Patience and I closed in on our target, I heard Bennie yell something at me, but her words were muffled by the pounding of hooves and the baying of hounds. I readied myself for the inevitable, exhilarating rush of the first moments of the jump, as the pony lifted her feet off the ground. But this time, it felt different. Something as not quite right. Patience did not oblige me in her usual manner. Instead of springing forward in a light, breathtaking leap, she put her head down, planted her front feet firmly on the ground, and skidded to a halt.

********

An eternity later, I heard a voice. "Oi think ‘e’s comin’ around, now."

I wasn’t sure if the owner of the voice was speaking to me, and I didn’t really care.

"‘Ere, try some o’ this." The voice said again, and I felt something cold and wet gently touch my forehead.

Somewhere within the foggy, inner reaches of my mind, I thought I knew that voice. My eyes must have been closed, for I don’t remember opening them, but suddenly I was trying to focus on the face of the one who had spoken.

Bennie’s face gradually appeared out of a haze, but I was sure the voice didn’t belong to her. She was leaning over me, mopping my face with a damp cloth, a cloth that smelled of a familiar substance, an aroma that I somehow associated with the owner of the voice.

"What happened?" I heard the question as it left my mouth, but for the life of me couldn’t figure out how I’d managed to form the words.

"You had rather a nasty fall, Frodo" Bennie answered.

"It’s a good thing me an Sam, ‘ere, came along when we did." This time I was able to put a name to the voice, for Sam’s Gaffer leaned over me as he spoke. I struggled to sit up.

"Let me ‘elp you, Mr. Frodo." A pair of strong hands assisted me to a sitting position. And now, I clearly recognised Sam’s voice. Then his face came into view. He was wearing a smile, but it was obvious he was worried, from the way his forehead was furrowed with a frown.

"Take a swig o’ this, lad." The Gaffer suggested and thrust a small pewter flask at me.

I raised it to my lips, albeit rather shakily, and swallowed a healthy draught of the mysterious tonic. It burned as it traveled down my throat and elicited a cough or two in reaction to its restorative powers.

The Gaffer laughed and declared, "Just the thing to cure what ails ya!"

I recognised the cure-all as the Gaffer’s famous home brew, which had also been used to dampen the cloth that Bennie had used to wipe my face.

With Sam’s aid and another liberal dose of home brew, I was soon back on my feet and being filled in on what exactly had transpired. It seemed that the Gaffer and Sam had run into a few snags while trying to teach the pony they had purchased from Bennie to go in harness. So, Bennie had agreed to take the animal back for a time in order to give it some additional schooling. They had been on their way to deliver the pony back to Bennie and had, fortunately been taking a shortcut when they appeared just in time to see me go sailing over the head of the mare I had been riding.

"Another foot, Mr. Frodo, an’ you might have landed in the middle of that ‘edge." Sam pronounced.

"You’d ‘ave been scratched up a bit, but it mightta broke yor fall." The Gaffer chuckled. Then, becoming serious, he insisted that he and Sam made sure that I got home all right.

Bennie wanted to examine me before I left, to confirm that I had no serious injuries. I’m not sure if Sam didn’t trust Bennie, or my judgement, seeing that I was still in rather a rattled condition, but he made clear his uncertainties regarding her wishes and further backed it up with the insistence that he and the Gaffer should waste no time in getting me home.

I haven’t quite concluded if the dull throbbing in my head was caused by my fall or if it was a residual side effect of the Gaffer’s curative. Thankfully, it had pretty well abated by the end of the day. Of one thing I am sure. I had surmised early on in the outing that Patience knew more than I. She proved it when she had the sense to refuse a jump she couldn’t clear. I only wish she might have had some way of warning me.