by Rabidsamfan
“And that’s leaving the fox to guard the chickens, begging your pardon, sir,” Hamfast opined in a growl. He’d hung his own cloak and Bilbo’s by the fire. Now he bent over the large bulky package he’d carried in and drew his pocket knife to cut away a particularly obstreperous knot in the twine holding the oilcloth that covered it. “Still, he couldn’t have managed this with that broken arm still paining him.”
“What is that, anyway?” Drogo asked, distractedly.
“Oh, just some mathoms in honor of my birthday,” Bilbo reassured him. “Not that I thought you’d need them for two more weeks.” As he spoke, Hamfast
managed to undo the tangle. The oilcloth fell away to reveala beautiful cradle bed made of dark brown wood inlaid with patterns of flowers in other colors of wood and small bright stones. Bilbo laughed outright when Drogo’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
“It’s… It’s… But…Lobelia said it wasn’t usable; that’s why she’d left it in storage. Mitt Tunnelly was going to lend us theirs. I’d made all the arrangements.”
“And I unmade ‘em,” Bilbo clapped him on the back. “Never you mind! Young Saradoc Brandybuck fetched it back from Hardbottle for me, and just in time, too. Why that cradle’s been rocking Baggins babies for nigh on a hundred
years, and it’s in fine shape to rock them for a hundred more.”
“Three sacks of taters we set in it, sir, and both my lads have had a go,” Hamfast said, polishing a few errant drops of rain away with his handkerchief. “Had to glue some of the bits of decoration home again, and replace a few as had been lost, but near as I can tell the rest was carved from a single block, and as good as the day it was made once we’d put a bit
of polish on.” He lifted another bundle wrapped in another layer of oilcloth from the bed of the cradle. “This seems dry enough, Mr. Bilbo.”
“Ah. The birthday presents. Excellent.” Bilbo took the bundle. It was small only in comparison to the cradle, and filled both arms up to his chin.
Before Drogo had a chance to ask what was in it, a voice called his name from the next room. “Who’s there?”
“It’s Bilbo Baggins and Ham Gamgee,” Drogo said, going to the bedroom door and opening it enough to peek in. “They’ve brought us the Baggins cradle. And some food as well. Are you hungry, love?”