At tea-time that afternoon, the four hobbits walked to the ancient Baggins family smial on the far side of Hobbiton. One of the oldest homes in the village, it was officially named Balbo's Pride after the Baggins who had first tunneled into the hillside over 200 years ago, but was more frequently referred to as the Old Baggins Place, or simply the Old Place. This was where Frodo's parents would have made their home if they hadn't been invited to live at Brandy Hall, and where Frodo might have grown up if Aunt Dora had taken him in instead of the Brandybucks.
The hobbits had all dressed in their best. At Frodo's insistence, Sam had taken particular care, bringing out the carefully stored golden-brown velvet coat and brocade waistcoat that had been made for him in Minas Tirith for Aragorn's and the Lady Arwen's wedding. He felt odd being dressed so fancy here in the Shire, but Frodo assured him that he looked very handsome, and every inch a gentleman.
The Burrows children were playing on the grassy slopes atop the Old Place, but they stopped their game and gave excited yelps of welcome when they saw the visitors coming up the lane. The children ran down to greet their older cousins as they came in at the front gate, clinging to legs, tugging on coattails and sleeves, clamoring for hugs and kisses, and the smallest child begging to be picked up. Merry obliged, and carried little Minto to the front door, where Peony stood smiling.
Peony Burrows was a plump, motherly hobbit in her middle-40's, her hair somewhat mussed and the apron tied over her print dress bearing smudges of flour as evidence that she had been baking. "When I heard the commotion outside, I knew it must be you," she said as she removed her youngest from Merry's shoulders, set the child down, and shooed him and his brothers and sister off. "Since Milo told us you were coming, the children have been looking for you all afternoon. I told them you'd play with them after tea." She ushered the boys into the entry hall. "I'm so glad you could come, Frodo. You're looking very well. Aunt Dora's asked after you specially. She says she doesn't see enough of you." If she was surprised to see Sam, Peony did not show it, but greeted him as graciously as the others, then escorted them all down the winding main hallway to the best parlor, where Aunt Dora sat waiting.
"Here's some visitors for you, Auntie!" Peony announced brightly.
Dora was seated in a comfortable chair before the fire with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and her ash-gray curls tucked neatly under a lace cap. She was knitting, needles moving so briskly that the ball of woolen yarn on the floor beside her workbasket jerked at each twitch of the thread, until at last it rolled away across the hearth. At Peony's words, she looked up, set her knitting down in her lap, and said, "Come in, boys! Please, come in."
"Why don't you lads sit down, and I'll get the tea things," Peony said, and returned to the kitchen.
"Yes, sit down." Dora gestured to the long settee by the parlor window. "Peregrin, Meriadoc--my, how nice you both look! Quite neat and tidy, not like the last time I saw you. Bilbo's birthday party, that was. You'd been playing with rockets like the naughty boys you are, and got yourselves all covered in soot. You looked quite a fright! And how much you lads have grown since then. Here, Frodo, sit by me." The old lady indicated another overstuffed chair on the opposite side of the hearth. "You look quite a picture, as always, dear boy, but you've been very naughty yourself. You don't come to see your old auntie as often as you should. I hope that will change. And..." Dora peered near-sightedly at Sam, who was lingering by the doorway. "I don't believe I know you, lad. You're not one of my nephews, are you?"
"No'm," Sam answered, ducking his head shyly. He was beginning to feel that his father was right; he'd overstepped himself by coming with Frodo. He didn't belong here. It wasn't his place to be sitting in Miss Dora Baggins' best drawing room!
"This is Sam Gamgee," Frodo introduced him. "You know Sam, Auntie Dora. Remember?"
"Gamgee? Not the Gaffer's youngest boy?" She peered at Sam more closely. "Yes, I remember. I've heard a thing or two about you. You're living at Bag End now, aren't you?"
"Yes'm," Sam answered. "I look after Mr. Frodo."
"I'm afraid I haven't been very well lately," Frodo added.
"So I've heard. It's all this traveling to the far-and-wilds on adventures that's ruined your health. Just like Bilbo! He was never the same after he went off, and look how he ended up!"
"Yes, you're quite right, Aunt Dora, and no doubt I'll end up the same way," Frodo replied with good humor. "But in the meantime, I need someone to watch over me--a friend, not a servant--and Sam has kindly agreed to come and stay." Frodo took the chair near his aunt, and urged Sam to sit down as well. Sam took the tuffet beside Frodo's chair.
"Well, I never heard of such a thing," Dora said, shaking her head, "but I daresay you boys have picked up all sorts of odd, new ideas on your travels. I won't call it good nor bad 'til I see how it turns out. I've heard quite a lot about the two of you as well," she told Merry and Pippin. "How you won't settle down and marry like proper lads your age, but will go on playing games and keeping house with each other. Esmeralda must be disappointed, knowing she has no hope of grandchildren any time soon."
"Actually, Mother's taken it rather well," Merry replied cheerfully. "She's too young to be made a grandmother just yet. It's Father who's caused all the trouble."
The door opened as Angelica Baggins came into the room, bringing the tea-tray. She was a very pretty girl with a delicate, heart-shaped face framed by long, flaxen ringlets that were held by blue ribbons that matched her cornflower blue eyes.
"Jelly, hello!" Pippin greeted her. It was a teasing reminder of the nickname the boys had called her during her roly-poly childhood.
Angelica, who had only outgrown her pudginess in her recent tween years, did not appreciate the reminder; she made a face at him--unseen by Aunt Dora--as she set the tray down on the low table by the old lady's chair. "How kind of you to remember, Pippin Took," she said. "It's almost as if we never left the nursery." Arranging her skirts carefully and attractively around herself, the girl knelt beside the table to pour out and fix a cup of tea the way her great-aunt liked it. "And Merry Brandybuck--how nice to see you again."
"Do you see who else is here, Angelica?" Dora prompted.
"Yes, I see. Hello, Frodo." Angelica turned to him with this unenthusiastic greeting and the merest of polite smiles. "Aunt Peony told me you'd come."
"He came specially to see us," said Dora pleasedly. "But you can't imagine it's his old auntie alone that brings him across town."
Frodo didn't understand this remark. It sounded as if Dora was suggesting he was here to see Angelica, but that was plainly nonsense. In the first place, no one had told him that Angelica was at Aunt Dora's. In the second place, he'd never been fond enough of this particular cousin to go out of his way to visit her.
It seemed that his feelings were reciprocated, for the corner of Angelica's mouth turned down at her great-aunt's words, and she did not reply. "Cream, or sugar?" she asked Frodo as she filled a second teacup.
"A little of both, please." When Angelica handed him the cup of tea, Frodo passed it to Sam. The girl lifted her eyebrows at this, and considered Sam with curiosity as she prepared another cup for Frodo.
"And what brings you here?" she asked Pippin and Merry as she gave them their tea. "I know you'd rather be off at one of the taverns. They're just opening their doors at this hour, aren't they?"
"Actually, we're here to ask about Lotho." Pippin took the direct approach again.
"Lotho?" Angelica looked surprised. "What would we have to say about him?"
"His disappearance concerns the whole family, one way or another," said Frodo. "I'd like to know where he's gone to."
"Aren't you curious at all, Jelly?" Merry asked.
"I could care less," Angelica answered with a toss of her ringlets. "It's nothing to do with me."
"I can tell you one thing certainly," Dora declared. "This is all Lobelia's doing."
No one took this statement as a serious accusation. It was well known that Dora and Lobelia had been feuding for more years than any of the young hobbits had been alive, as the two ladies vied for the position of family matriarch. Most of the Bagginses preferred to put up with Dora's meddling and advice rather than submit themselves to Lobelia's sharp tongue since, unlike Lobelia, Dora did mean well and was very generous to the relatives she was most fond of. Having no children of her own, she could afford to divide her interest among a number of family members she found worthy of attention. She would be leaving the Old Place to one of them; speculation favored Frodo, who was her closest relative, but as far as anyone knew, Dora had settled on no heir yet.
Bilbo could never abide his cousin Dora. After Frodo had come to live with him, Dora had sent him frequent, long letters full of advice concerning her nephew's upbringing, which Bilbo promptly tossed into the trash.
"You don't think she's done away with her own son, Aunt Dora?" Merry asked playfully.
"No, you imp," replied the old lady, "but whatever's happened to Lotho, you can be sure that Lobelia's led him into it. She's always pushed herself and her family forward. Calling her husband the head of the Baggins family was ridiculous when he was alive--imagine, Otho heading anything but a dinner table!--but she's only grown worse since he died." This was familiar ground; all of them had heard Dora's opinion of Lobelia many times before. "Head of the Bagginses! Why, they're not even full Bagginses, only half-Bagginses with that 'Sackville' tacked on when there's not a true Sackville left living from one end of the Shire to the other. Putting on airs is what I call it. Lobelia's ruined that son of hers by giving him ideas of what he ought to have by rights, when he had no right to it! Why, Lobelia's even had an eye on Angelica as a wife for her Lotho--but Angelica, I'm happy to say, wouldn't consider it. Sensible girl! Why don't you marry her, Frodo?"
"Me, Auntie?" Frodo said, startled as his aunt turned abruptly to him with this unexpected question. Sam, beside him, was sitting straight as a poker, and Frodo was aware that Angelica was also very still--her hand holding the tiny silver cream pitcher had frozen, poised over a teacup--and although her head was down, she was watching him through lowered eyelashes.
"Yes, why not? Marriage is the best thing for a young hobbit." Dora herself had never married. "Angelica's not of age yet, but she will be soon, and she's got a lot of good, Baggins common sense. She'd keep you from going peculiar, Frodo, like your Uncle Bilbo. No more going off to have adventures! You'd settle right down and she'd look after you well enough. Marry Angelica, and I'll leave this house to you."
"It's very generous of you to offer, Aunt Dora," Frodo said diplomatically, "but there must be other members of the family in greater need of it. I already have a home I'm quite fond of."
"It never hurts to keep an extra house or two in the family," Dora replied, undeterred. "It may come in handy one day. This house is half yours, you know, through your poor father Drogo."
Angelica lifted her head. "Don't be silly, Auntie," she said in a patient tone, but her eyes were flashing with stronger emotions. "You know I'm going to marry Lad Whitfoot."
"You could do better, dear. Frodo's much handsomer than Aladell Whitfoot, and richer and more clever too. A Mayor's son? Frodo could be Mayor himself if he had a mind for it. A pretty girl like you could have anybody she liked."
"Then I'd like to have Lad," Angelica retorted. Her cheeks were bright pink, and Frodo was sure that his own face was a similar color. If this was the usual way Dora spoke of him to Angelica, he couldn't blame the girl for resenting his presence. "Frodo doesn't care a straw for me... and besides," glancing up at her cousin, Angelica added archly, "I've heard that he's already spoken for."
Frodo sat very still now; he heard Sam gasp in a sharp intake of breath. He hadn't realized that the rumors had gone so far. If Angelica had heard the gossip about them, who else in the family had?
"Frodo? Spoken for?" Dora echoed with keen interest. "Now where did you hear that?"
"Oh, it's just a rumor that's going around," Angelica retreated quickly, aware by the way the boys were staring at her that she had gone too far. "You know how people gossip, Auntie--there may be nothing in it at all." The girl rose and kissed the old lady's cheek before leaving the room.
"Frodo," Dora turned to her nephew, question on her lips; Frodo wondered how he could possibly answer, when Peony came in, apron off and hair fixed neatly, bearing a large platter crowded with dozens of little cakes. Milo followed with one plate piled high with sandwiches in either hand. Frodo was saved from awkward explanations as everyone helped themselves to the food. Dora made a few feints at drawing his attention, but gave it up when she realized that Frodo was doing his best not to answer her; the lady thereafter nibbled on a cake, sipped her tea, and considered her nephew thoughtfully. Angelica returned with more cups and hot water to replenish the teapot, but did not remain in the room long. The conversation continued on less personal terms.
As the adults were finishing, the Burrows children came into the house all at once, clamoring for their own tea; Peony excused herself and saw to them in the kitchen. Merry and Pippin, who were good with children, went along to help out.
Once he had finished his tea, Milo turned to Frodo. "Will you come out for a smoke with me?" he offered. "Auntie won't have it in the house."
Since Frodo had hoped to speak privately with Milo--and it seemed that Milo was eager to speak to him--he accepted the invitation. "Will you excuse us, please, Aunt Dora?" he said as he rose from his chair.
"Of course, dear. Milo often goes out to smoke after a meal. I'm sure he misses having other gentlemen in the house to join him. Is your friend going with you?" Dora turned to Sam, who had barely said a word all during the visit.
When Sam looked up at him, Frodo met his eyes in apology; he knew that Sam would have preferred to go with him, but Milo would not confide in him easily if someone else were there. "I wouldn't like to leave you entirely by yourself, Auntie. Sam, you don't mind keeping company with Aunt Dora for awhile, do you? We won't be long."
Sam didn't look happy at the prospect, but he agreed.
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