WHISPERS OF THE RING
A Day’s Hard Work pt.I
"Excuse us for taking you from your dinner on this fine day, sir." The craggy-faced farmer made to slam the door shut on the curly-haired callers but Merry managed to wedge his foot against it. "We couldn’t help but notice your field of ripe corn and thought we might offer a humble hand."Pippin’s contribution to the conversation was to make his eyes as wide and innocent as he could manage without them falling from their sockets.
"I don’t need help from wee folk." The man grumped.
Pippin let tears well up in his eyes; and made sure the farmer could see them most plainly.
Merry feigned astonishment. "Why sir! Did you now know Hobbits are Middle-Earth’s very best gardeners? Our skill at handling vegetables is legendary! We can coax a higher yield from your fields than you normally would just by virtue of our keen eyes and unique perspective! And you can find no cheaper labor, as we do not desire coins only foodstuffs to replace that which a bear has taken from us just this morning."
The farmer’s eyes narrowed at first, then turned thoughtful. "A bear you say? Might be that brawny brute that’s been knocking over my hives. He’s a troublesome pest, he is."
Merry nodded sagely, "Bears are sneaky creatures. And what they can’t sneak, they steal through sheer ferocity. Can’t stand bears. They’re dishonest bullies."
Pippin looked very sorrowful. "He even stole our lovely breakfast." He mourned.
"Father? Who’s at the door then? Your dinner is getting cold!" A pretty young girl poked her head around the old man and gave the hobbits a once over.
Pippin wiped his nose on his sleeve and did his best to gain sympathy by giving her the most heart-rending, lost expression he had. "Just some poor souls, Miss, robbed of their provisions by a bear just this morning!"
"Awwwwwwwww! Father, why haven’t you invited these youngsters in for a bite? They look half-starved!" The girl flapped her apron at her father and told him to get at his lunch. She turned to the hobbits. "You poor dears," she cooed, "Why don’t you wash up and share our meal with us? I’m sure father will need your help this afternoon in the garden or with the pigs and we’ll pay you in produce and pork sausages." She ruffled Pippin’s curly hair. He was hard-pressed to keep his expression sorrowful at the thought of earning some pork sausages. "Now get inside you two, I don’t want you falling over for lack of food this afternoon!"
"We are much obliged to you, miss!" Merry beamed. "And to your father of course."
She winked at them and put her finger along the side of her nose. "My name is Miss Aidline to you now, and my father is Farmer Ghead. We’ll have a quick lunch then off to work with you. Be respectful of my Father and work hard and you will do well."
Pippin and Merry gave each other a warning look. "Better behave, Merry." Pippin whispered.
"Back at you, Pip!" Merry hissed back.
Aidline paused before letting them enter the house. "And be especially careful," she warned, "Not to go near Father’s hives. Father watches them like a hawk – our honey is the best in the Weather Hills, and is prized for its unique flavor. You cannot find any like it anywhere else in Middle-earth!" She smiled again, unaware of the incredible temptation she had just put before the Shire’s two most notorious burglars. "Well, please come in and have something to eat!" She entered the house and Merry and Pippin followed.
"You know what that means, don’t you, Pip?" Merry asked discreetly.
"Yes," Pippin nodded gravely, but with a hint of a smile, "Behaving and following Frodo’s orders are both going right out the window, aren’t they?"
"That bit there, please."
Sam scuffled his feet and waited for Frodo to finish bartering for leather scraps to repair their equipment. He was glad Frodo was with him; he could have never managed to negotiate with Big Folks. To be honest, Samwise Gamgee didn’t exactly trust anyone over four feet tall. Old Gaffer, his father, had always told him the Big Folk were extra tall so as honest Hobbits couldn’t see their faces to know if they were lying.
‘Frodo can be so brave sometimes,’ Sam mused. ‘Maybe not when confronted with a bear or a bad storm, but in little ways, like talking to Big Folk and thinking of plans and well, following his dreams.’ He watched Frodo haggle for the scraps, his keen eyes and nimble fingers were quick to point out any flaws that might devalue the bits further and fetch them a better price. He really was a Hobbit worthy of admiration.
"Are you ready, Sam?" Frodo asked. Sam seemed lost in his thoughts, ‘Probably because we haven’t had a proper breakfast yet.’ Frodo thought. ‘He’s fading out on me.’ Aloud he said, "The tanner told me there is a widow with a garden that might need working, up this way a bit. Shall we see if she is in need of some stout workers?"
Frodo’s mood had improved greatly since entering the town. The prices were quite a bit lower than he had thought they would be for some of the essentials they needed, and the Big Folks seemed quite friendly. Still, it was best they travel in pairs. Big Folk could be unpredictable, and Bilbo had tales of strange notions they could take into their heads at times.
"I don’t know if you should be doing any work in a garden, Master Frodo." Sam mumbled as they walked. "It’s beneath you."
Frodo stopped in his tracks. "Why Samwise Gamgee, helping to replace our supplies isn’t beneath me." Frodo put his hands on Sam’s shoulders and made him look into his eyes. Sam squirmed uncomfortably. "Sam, I am just as capable as you are doing menial tasks. I am not as skilled, perhaps, but I am not helpless either."
Sam felt a twinge in his heart at the implications of Frodo’s statement. "I know you’re not helpless, Mister Frodo, but it isn’t right that the master of Bag End should be working in the dirt." His bottom lip quavered a bit, but his voice held firm. "It just isn’t right."
Frodo patted Sam’s shoulder. "Don’t worry, Sam. I don’t mind, and it’s only for a half day. I won’t be lessened for an afternoon’s honest work." He winked and Sam blushed a bit.
"N-no, of course not, Master Frodo." Sam managed to stutter. "I wouldn’t think less of you for it."
"Good. It’s settled then." Frodo bumped his forehead against Sam’s in a playful gesture reserved for Sam and Sam alone. "Let’s go see if our services can lighten a larder and fill our hobbit tummies, shall we?"