lord of the ringsA pleasant affair might have been the wrong choice of words. Oh well, now that my dinner party is over, I can sit back with a full stomach, and for the most part, a contented state of mind and write about the experience. I’m still not sure how I actually managed to pull the affair off on such short notice and as yet, I haven’t figured out whatever possessed me to want to try in the first place. I just came back from Brandy Hall with this need to have friends gathered about me. Perhaps it was the family and camaraderie at the Hall that did it.
Oh yes, I could have waited a few more days. But it seems that everyone always gets so busy the closer it actually gets to Yule, that it becomes a challenge to find a date that everyone can agree on. But it all worked out just fine! It helped keeping the number of guest to a minimum, so I wasn’t inundated with preparations. Plus, I suppose that being the Master of Bag End does have its advantages now and then. It only took a little persuasion in the form of a few extra pieces of silver to have all the presents and foodstuffs needed delivered to my door early on the morning of the party. Plus, Mundee, after receiving her invitation, was gracious enough to offer the services of her maid to help out; and Sally, her housekeeper, was gracious enough to agree.
The first official guests to arrive were Sam and the Gaffer (Bell and Marigold were off visiting relatives in Nobottle). They came early and stayed to help out. The Gaffer proudly toted some rather large crockery containing his latest batch of home brew. Sam made no mention about bringing Rosie. Later, when I asked him about it, he ducked out on me as soon as he could with the excuse of helping Sally.
I made myself busy with finding a safe place for the Gaffer’s treasure. I had rather a difficult time in getting him to relinquish his hold on the jugs. He finally allowed me take one, while he kept hold of the other one and he followed close on my heels as I looked for an empty spot in the kitchen that would accommodate both of the jugs. That done, I decided I had better check on the preparations, while the Gaffer found a wooden stool in a corner, placed it next to the wall, pulled out his pipe, proceeded to fill it, then leaned back against the wall and took a long draw. Satisfied that my guest was comfortable enough, I went about my chores.
A little later Daffodil and her husband arrived. I greeted them cheerfully and told them where they could park their pony cart. Earlier in the day, Sam had prepared a place around in back to tether ponies, for I knew that Bennie would be sure to arrive via some equestrian means, she never walked when she could ride.
As I helped Daffodil from the cart, I noticed that she carried her walking stick. It was a large implement, carved of sturdy ash wood.
She grinned as she brandished it, "Just in case..." was all she said.
She didn’t have to elaborate on the reason she carried it. She planned no hike. Of that, I was sure. She carried it to discourage any potential skirmishes between two certain 'Sisters.' Apart from her staff, however, she also brought some lovely candles that she had made herself to add to the table decorations. And that was not all, for she and Chesman presented me with a beautiful oak wood pipe, carved by Chesman’s own hands! That was, indeed, a pleasant surprise!
I had just escorted my cousin and her husband to the parlour, when a commotion commenced at the front door. I opened it to find both Fatty and Folco standing there. At least, that’s what I assumed, for the persons in question were hidden behind huge piles of packages (and it is quite a feat to hide Fatty), but I recognized the voices at once. I also recognized the smells coming from the packages: some of the best pipeweed in the South Farthing, Old Toby. In addition to that, the aroma of fresh baked biscuits, Fatty’s own recipe, wafted from one of the baskets. I quickly rescued my two friends from some of their burden and ushered them inside.
As I was finding a place for the growing pile of gifts and sundries, I happened to glance out the window as I passed and noticed Mundee, trudging up the hill. She was wrestling with what looked like two large baskets filled with presents. I excused myself from my other guests and hurried out to assist her.
I caught her just as she got to the gate. She looked lovely in her dress of dark green velvet and matching cloak. My greeting went something like, "Just what do you think you’re doing? Taking the road would have been easier, or do you just want to muss your pretty holiday frock?"
She knew I was taunting her, of course, and I fully expected her to come back with a quick retort. But instead, she dropped her baskets and clasped me in a hug that nearly took away my breath. I found myself hugging her back and next thing I knew, she kissed me. It was much more than a cousinly kiss. It was very pleasurable and warm, warm enough that it made me forget the cold wind blowing around us. And it might even have gone on a bit longer, too, if the sound of approaching pony hooves hadn’t interrupted.
The rider happened to be Bennie on her small horse, Naur. I just caught a slight flashing of Mundee’s brown eyes as she watched her cousin (now foster sister) ride up sidesaddle, decked out in a very fancy dress of blue and silver. Bennie’s color of choice is almost always blue. And she wears it to her advantage. This occasion was no different.
I must have been standing there, staring, holding the baskets that Mundee had dropped, when Bennie asked in a honeyed voice, "Frodo, will you be so kind as to help me down?"
"Oh, yes...of course!"
Mundee’s baskets were once again abandoned --a bit unceremoniously-- as I came to Bennie’s rescue. She leaned over to put her arms round my neck and in the few seconds that it took for her to perform that maneuver, I found myself in a rather awkward situation. Her cape slipped away a little, displaying the bodice of her dress, which was cut… well, a bit low, and although I tried not to stare... there was no help for it. I knew from the slight smile on her face that she noticed.
With my arms about her slender waist, I helped her dismount. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she thanked me by planting a kiss on my lips, a kiss that seemed designed to outdo the one that Mundee had bestowed upon me.
The sound of a cough brought me back to my senses. Mundee was standing there, still waiting patiently, so it seemed, but the tapping of her foot belied her patience and she grimaced a bit as she drew her cloak tighter against the cold breeze.
There was another cough, this time from someone else. Sam had appeared, wearing an expression on his face that wavered somewhere between worry and amusement.
"Mr Frodo, would ya loike me ta take Miss Bennie’s mount ‘round back?"
"Would you, Sam? Thank you! That would be so helpful!"
I’m quite sure that at the moment I looked like I could use all the help I could get. Then Bennie was handing me a bundle which had been secured to Naur’s saddle, after which, she linked her arm tightly through mine, leaving no means for me to carry Mundee’s baskets. And as yet, neither girl had greeted the other. This didn’t bode well. But once we were inside, greetings were exchanged all around and conversation began to flow....
I saw to it that my guests were furnished with an ample quantity of tidbits to nibble on until time for dinner to be served. There were trays of cheeses and smoked sausages accompanied by drinks to warm the coldest insides; hot tea, mulled cider. or wine. I noticed that the Gaffer was not as yet present in the parlour, and wondered if he was still in the kitchen sampling his private reserve. It was right about then that he made his appearance, however he seemed fairly steady on his feet so I assumed there would be plenty of the home brew for later.
Surprisingly, he made his way toward Bennie and from what I overheard of the conversation I gathered he was interested in purchasing one of Bennie’s ponies for Bell.
"It’s too bad that your Bell and Marigold are away helping your cousin, Fern through her illness." I remarked to Sam as helped me take the empty tea trays to the kitchen. "But then, if your mother were here, then it might spoil the Gaffer’s surprise."
"Ah...the pony." Sam replied. " ‘e’s made up ‘is mind that ‘e wants one o’ those fancy ponies o’ Miss Bennie’s for Mum."
I smiled to myself at the thought of Sam’s mother riding around Hobbiton and Bywater on a skittish high-bred equine.
"I hope your father is also looking into purchasing a pony cart… and a pair of blinders." was all I said.
After we made our way back to the parlour, I found an empty seat next to Mundee and was soon involved in a pleasant talk. But at some point in our conversation, I noticed Mundee’s attention drift to a spot somewhere above and behind my head as a slight frown began to develop on her pretty face. I followed her gaze and turned to find Bennie standing directly behind my chair. Maybe I only imagined it, but she had the look of definite business about her. I can only compare it to one cat about to challenge another for territory.
Although it was obvious by her demeanor that she did, indeed, take note of her foster sister’s presence, her words totally ignored the fact that Mundee was present at all.
"Hello Frodo, you look like you could use company."
To complicate matters, Mundee is not known for having one of the slowest-rising tempers in Hobbiton. I feared that Bennie was pushing a bit too hard this evening. But to give Mundee credit, she kept her temper in check and with a performance worthy of applause, she stood gracefully, smiled sweetly, and offered Bennie her vacated seat.
I was a little surprised, as I had expected a retort on her part. Not that she is predictable, by any means, but one usually knows where one stands with her. Whereas, Bennie is the opposite. To resort to a timeworn cliché, she could blow hot one moment, then cold the next; rudeness and sweetness in turn. But she usually behaved better when she was with only me. Just knowing Mundee was around brought out the worst in her.
I was beginning once again to question my judgment and perhaps my sanity in having both of the girls here at the same time. But as I had tried to explain to Sam, I couldn’t invite one and not the other, nor could I have left them both off the guest list. The only solution would have been to throw two parties! And though I find that plan rather extreme, I’ll wager Folco and Fatty would have found the idea quite appealing.
As we sat down to dinner I was confronted with another complication. To deter any arguments I had planned to use place cards, ensuring that neither Mundee nor Bennie would be sitting next to me. However, when I got to the table there were no name cards! Of course, it didn’t really present a problem to my other guests, since the dinner was a very informal affair any way. Everyone was free to sit where they chose. I did end up, however, in the host’s customary place at the head of the table.
There was a very brief, ensuing scuffle as Mundee and Bennie--along with Fatty and Folco--vied for the two places closest to my seat (I thought for a moment that Daffodil was going to have to fetch her walking stick to the table). Bennie and Mundee won and took their seats triumphantly on either side of me. My other two friends were forced to take alternative places while Sam looked on, shaking his head in disdain. I almost laughed out loud right then and there.
In actuality, dinner moved along as smooth as I could have hoped. Oh, there were a few tense moments when some item of food was passed between the girls. And, there was another instant when I felt someone’s toe probing my foot. I knew it was Bennie, employing the same tactics she had used the night of the dinner at Mundee’s hole. Most Hobbit lasses would never make so bold with a lad, but then Bennie was not most Hobbit lasses. Also, I could only assume that because of our closeness in the past, she felt free to take liberties that another girl wouldn’t dare.
At least, that’s what I assumed until I felt Mundee’s toe touch my other foot. Of course, Mundee must have suspected what Bennie had been doing from the smug smile that her foster sister was wearing (it couldn’t have been from any hint on my part. I’m sure that I handled the situation with total composure). At any rate, Mundee wasn’t about to be out done this time. Meanwhile, I did my best to concentrate on the lively dinner conversation. Fortunately, I didn’t have to worry for long about my composure slipping. I was rescued by an unexpected event.
There came to all of our ears a pounding on the front door. I recognized the voice that accompanied the knocking. It belonged to Merry Brandybuck. Excusing myself hastily, I went to answer the summons.
"Frodo! Open up! I know you’re in there! Let us in!"
From the implication of the word "us," I fully expected to see my cousin, Pippin, with Merry. But, much to my surprise, when I opened the door I found that Merry’s companion was Sparrow Singswell.
I ushered them inside as Merry chattered away.
" I missed you so much when you left after your last visit Frodo, that I just had to come see you," He teased. "When I learned that Sparrow and her fellow minstrels were headed back in the direction of Hobbiton, I hitched a ride. We dropped Sparrow’s lot off at the inn, but I insisted that she come on to Bag End with me, at least to get a bite to eat. I told her you always have somethin’ good to eat lyin’ about. Much better food that she could get at the inn." Merry finished all in one breath.
"I hope you don’t mind...Merry insisted it would be all right." Sparrow looked apologetic.
"Oh, it’s quite all right! Really! I’ve a few people over for a little Yule gathering. You’re both most welcome to join us. There’s plenty of food to go round!"
"Well, I don’t want to intrude..." Sparrow said.
I opened my mouth to reassure her, but Merry beat me to it.
"Nonsense! We’re not intruding! Frodo doesn’t mind at all!"
"Not at all," I reiterated. "You’re most welcome. And, I believe you’ll find that you know everyone."
I took their wraps and they followed me into the dining room, where they were greeted with the time-honored sentiment of 'the more the merrier.'
I located two chairs for the recent arrivals and started towards the table with them. But I was intercepted by Merry, who relieved me of them, saying, "Always ready to help out, Frodo!"
And with a wink that was meant only for my benefit, he proceeded to place them in very strategic positions, which happened to cause Bennie and Mundee to be dislodged from their exalted spots. But happily, neither of the girls looked too awfully put out. Maybe they were each satisfied that the other had also been equally ousted.
Most of our party were ready to move on to the dessert course, but it didn’t take long for Sparrow and Merry to catch up with us. I must say that Mundee has a rare treasure in her cook. Sally had outdone herself. There was plum pudding with hard sauce, apple pie with thick, clotted sweet cream, and a lovely boiled custard. It was wonderful and very satisfying ending to a perfect meal.
Afterwards, all of us fellows drifted into the library to enjoy a smoke, while Daffodil, shepherded the ladies into the parlour. The Gaffer slipped into the kitchen reappearing with one of the jugs of his prized home brew. How nice it was, to sit back, enjoying easy conversation, with a full stomach, while sampling a fine brew and some of the best pipeweed from the South Farthing. I listened amused, as Fatty and Folco, after a few hearty swigs of the Gaffer’s brew, discussed the merits of Miss Sparrow’s lovely voice, not to mention her lovely face and form.
Somehow this prompted Merry to ask, "Um...Frodo...which of your two lovely cousins, if either, have you decided to court? And... can I have the one you don’t choose?"
I declined an answer to that question. However, my dismissal of Merry’s question didn’t even minutely dampen his spirits. He merely chuckled, refilled and lit his pipe, then continued puffing away contentedly.
I noticed that Sam seemed very quiet. I wondered if Rosie Cotton was the cause of this thoughtfulness. A sudden and rather loud giggle from Folco Boffin caught my attention. He and Fatty were studying some small object held between them. This time Fatty snickered, then hastily concealed the object in his jacket pocket. I could tell from their behaviour and from the way that Folco clung to his chair as if he might fall out of it, that they had most likely over done it just a trifle with the home made liquor.
In truth, it really doesn’t take all that much to overindulge in the Gaffer’s brew. It’s fairly strong stuff, and can creep up on you before you’re quite aware. The next thing you know, you might find yourself wandering in a strange pasture, conversing with the cows. (It’s happened to more than one person that I’ve heard tell of.)
Suddenly, Fatty stood up, swayed slightly, and announced, with a noticeable slur, that he was, "goin’ t’ g’see wha’ th’ ladiezzz... were doing. ‘specialleee, tha’ Mizz Sparrow."
Surprisingly, Folco was on his feet almost immediately after. Fatty then cleared his throat, straightened his jacket, and walked out of the library, headed for the parlour. Also surprising was the fact that he did it in a very dignified and sober manner. Folco followed, but with a little less dignity and sobriety.
Merry was instantly on his feet. "This oughta be good!"
It only took a moment for Sam and I to exchange glances before we, too, took to our feet. The moment I moved, I had a brief, misleading sensation that I was standing stock still, but the room was not. As we started to make our way out of the library, I decided that I’d had my fill of the Gaffer’s potion. I had no wish to wake up in the morning with an aching head and no clue as to whose field I had fallen asleep in.
The Gaffer remained where he was, still enjoying his pipe. I heard him chuckling behind us. Chesman, too, opted to remain where he was, the Gaffer’s company being much more preferable than Fatty and Folco’s foolishness.
I later learned Folco and Fatty’s arrival in the parlour was actually quite timely. It seems that things had between Mundee and Bennie had been getting increasingly... tense. I don’t know the details of what had set them off... but apparently, the presence of Daffodil’s solid ash walking stick had no effect. Exasperated, Sparrow had threatened to retire to the library, with the fellows. Upon which, Bennie had declared, "Over my dead body!"
That was when Fatty and Folco interrupted. Fatty had barged right up to Sparrow spouting a string of slightly slurred compliments. Folco, right beside him, repeated every word of homage like an echo. Poor Sparrow! I’m sure she must have felt overwhelmed. But according to Daffodil, she handled it gracefully.
Sam and I got to the room just in time to see Fatty pull a small green sprig of something from his coat pocket. It was then I recognised what the two had been snickering over in the library. Mistletoe!
Fatty dangled the crumpled sprig over Sparrow’s enchanting head. "Ah...now then, Miz Sparrow, according t’ tradisshhun, ya’ hav’ to give me a kissss!"
"Give us a kiss!" Folco corrected his friend.
Had they been a little less insistent and asked a little more politely, Sparrow might have been more willing to concede to their demands. However, filled with over eagerness and the Gaffer’s potent brew, they fairly leapt at her, one on each side. I still marvel at her cleverness and timing. She deftly stepped back out of the way so instead of their lips landing on her rosy cheeks, the two lover boys ended up kissing each other.
There were very definite exchanged looks of surprise on the part of both Fatty and Folco, along with some sounds indicating disgust, which were drowned out by the laughter from the rest of us in the room.
Later, after the lady-killers had been properly chastened (by Daffodil), Sparrow, moved by their plight, bestowed upon each of their cheeks a sympathetic kiss while Daffodil stood close by to insure there was no "tomfoolery" as she put it.
The Gaffer said he regretted having missed the spectacle of seeing Fatty and Folco kiss each other. "Oi reckon Miss Sparrow deserves to ‘ave a glass raised to ‘er for ‘er quick thinkin’!" he exclaimed.
He even poured her a glass himself, after he bade me scour the cupboards looking for the largest mug to be had in Bag End. Sparrow amazed me for the second time that evening, for she handled the Gaffer’s potent brew with as much finesse as she handled Fatty and Folco.
As I write these closing words, I think I can safely say that overall, my little Yule party was a success. Nobody ended up in a skirmish, Daffodil had no occasion to employ her walking stick, and no one ended up roaming the fields talking to livestock.
