I Will Return

The “Long Expected Party” Preparations

Frodo sat at the kitchen table writing down the list of necessary items for the party.

“We’re going to need at least fifteen barrels of ale,” he mused to himself as he brushed the end of his quill pen, absently, against his cheek.

Suddenly their came a knock at the green door to Bag-End. But before Frodo could answer it in anyway it burst open and in blew Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, two cousins of Frodo’s.

“Hello, Frodo!” Pippin exclaimed ambling over to where Frodo was sitting, bent over a sheet of paper.

“You know, you are supposed to wait for an answer after you knock.” Frodo said grinning at them.

“What for?” Merry asked, “we’re over here so often you should have the sound our knocks memorized by now.”

“Aye!” cried Pippin who was now cutting himself a slice of brown bread and spreading butter over it from the crock. “So, what are ye doin’?” he asked.

“I’m writing a list of things I will need for Bilbo’s birthday party, food, drink and such.”

“Well,” said Merry, “since more than half of the Shire is comin’, I suggest you havin’ everyone bring a bit of somethin’ food-wise.”

“That’s a great idea, Merry!” Frodo shouted, jumping from his chair. “Now, why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because,” Merry said with a smug expression, “you don’t have the sharp mind of a Brandybuck, my dear coz.”

“If you have such a sharp mind, my dear Merry, how is it that each time you and Pippin are caught in the middle of mischief making you have no believable stories to offer.”

“Well, I . . .”

Frodo laughed and dipped his quill pen back into the inkwell.

“So, Pippin, Merry,” Frodo said, “what are you two going to bring?”

“Ourselves, of course!” Merry exclaimed putting his arm around his Took cousin’s shoulder.

“Yes, who needs gifts or food when you’ve got us around?” Pippin said grinning.

Frodo chuckled and shook his head. “Seriously though. Are you two going to bring anything?”

“Maybe,” Pippin said, shrugging his shoulders. “If we can manage it, we might bring a bit of somethin’.”

“Yeah, but only if a certain hobbit can manage not to eat whatever it is we bring before we get there,” Merry sending a significant look Pippin’s way. Pippin was oblivious to it until Merry said, “that means you, Pip.”

“Oh, right! . . . ‘that means me’ what?”

“Never mind, Pippin,” Frodo said laughing. “Just as long as you at least bring yourselves Bilbo will be happy.”



A general invitation was sent around to everyone the next morning. The entire Shire was practically buzzing with excitement. All the Shire lads pulled out their “Sunnendei” best and the Shire lasses all rushed to the market square for new dresses. When Frodo walked by them in the market they glanced flirtatiously his way and waved. Frodo politely waved back like a young gentlehobbit would and should.

“Oh, Sam!” Frodo exclaimed to his best friend as he plopped down next to him. Sam was sitting on a log and fishing at the time, with some luck too. So far he had a whole bucket full.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked concern showing in his eyes a little, though he kept his sight on the tugging fishing line.

“It’s women, Sam! They’re everywhere!”

“Is that a complaint?” Sam asked, confused.

“Well, yes and no,” Frodo admitted. “It’s just that- it seems- everytime I go into town there is always, at least, one girl whom I have no interest in that fashion, vying for my attention! And when I am then civil and polite to them, as always, they take it as an invitation- as encouragement of continuing their attentions towards me”

“Ah, well, Mr. Frodo, so is the way of the world.”

The hobbit-hole a few doors down Peony sat mending her only good gown, trying to make it look it’s best for the “long expected party.”