October 25th

Hobbiton was a busy place that autumn. The harvest was exceptional, and families were busy setting aside their hard-won surplus. All the stores along the small business section of the town bustled with activity.

Theo Tuggle, the new Hobbiton blacksmith, was equally busy. He was an honest, hard-working hobbit of age 38, with typical brown curly hair and brown eyes. Theo was very muscular for a hobbit due to the nature of his work, and was considered by the lasses around Hobbiton and Bywater to be quite handsome. He had moved to town at about the same time as the doctor. The old Hobbiton blacksmith shop was burned to the ground during the occupation of the Shire by Sharkey and his ruffian men. After the ousting of the intruders, the old blacksmith had retired, leaving Hobbiton without one.

It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the ambitious young blacksmith, and he gambled everything he had by leaving the family farm and starting up his trade in a new town. He had even borrowed from his Grammer to raise up a new blacksmith shop a few doors down from the Green Dragon Inn. Mister Tuggle came from nearby Overhill, the only son in a close-knit family of farmers and laborers. His mother and five sisters cried when he told them the news of his leaving the family farm, but Overhill was not too far away from Hobbiton, and they could visit whenever they wanted.

Now, with all the bustle of harvest and trading between the villages in the Shire, his blacksmith shop was constantly active. Ponies needed shoeing. Fences and gates needed to be constructed. Iron pots and pans needed tinkering and repair. He created lantern posts and pull rings, door hinges and gate latches, meat hooks and oxen yokes. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t design and make. With the help of Frodo Baggins and Peregrin Took, Theo had even initiated a direct supply of fine forged iron from the dwarves of the Blue Mountains. Within the short span of a few months, even long-established blacksmith shops throughout the Shire were purchasing their supplies from Hobbiton Forge and Ironworks. Everybody suddenly needed the services of the pleasant, smiling, innovative blacksmith. Leaving the farm and moving to Hobbiton was the best thing Theo had ever done.

Despite his business success, he found his luck with the ladies to be less than he desired. The poor lad considered the village lasses to be rather forward compared to the farm lasses he knew from Overhill, and was rather reluctant to date anyone he deemed too forward or brash. As a consequence, Theo was lonely in a town full of quite-willing hobbitesses.

Shandy Merryweather was in town, and Theo had a ready long-time friend to commiserate with. The two sat down to lunch at Theo’s usual haunt; the Green Dragon Inn.

“What brings ya in, Shandy?” Theo said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

“Playin’ at the Pig and Whistle tonight and then over to Bywater tomorrow,” Shandy replied, digging into his own plate of cabbage and sausage. “I’m fiddlin’ there with the lads at the Little Fishes Inn. Doesn’t pay much, but I do like the lasses who work there, and the beer is free. We miss ya, Theo. Why don’t ya ever come home to Overhill no more?”

Theo rarely went back home for family reunions and holidays. “Well, Shandy, I’ll tell you straightways. Goin’ home is getting rather trying. My sister Holly constantly harps on me to see my old girlfriend and get married.”

“I thought you liked Corabell,” Shandy said as he stabbed another sausage. “You and she were quite an item there.”

“Well, yes,” Theo replied. “I think Corabell is sweet and pretty, but she was always so shy and, well, immature. And I tell you what, Shandy, this here Hobbiton is full of lasses who know more than just the workings of farm and hearth.” Theo had become smitten with the relative excitement of busy Hobbiton compared to his former life on the farm.

“Well, if it’s sly, flirty fillies ya want, ya can’t do better than the Hobbiton lasses, gotta agree with ya there,” Shandy smiled. “But you watch these village gals now. They can get to be vicious gossips, livin’ so close to each other and all. They know everybody’s business, and don’t mind talking about it in front of strangers neither.”

“I ain’t had no luck with ‘em yet,” Theo grumbled. “It’s not for want of them coming after me, neither. They are a forward group of lasses, that’s for truth.” He put his knife and fork down and contemplated his beer. “But Shandy, what I really want is a sturdy, steady lass who can help me better meself. You know, someone like one of my sisters, but maybe with some learning. You know. Can read and write and sing and stuff. Someone who’s got a good reputation here in Hobbiton, but isn’t useless.”

“Whatcha mean, not useless?” Shandy questioned.

“Someone who can raise chickens and goats and knows the ways of the weather.” Theo was staring off into space. “Someone who can mend a shirt or soothe a stomachache.”

“Sounds like yer mother,” Shandy smirked.

“No,” Theo grabbed his fork and stabbed a slice of turnip. “Not like my mother. Someone … well, you know … someone who can help me better meself.”

“Theo, you are most peculiar,” Shandy laughed. “What? You want to find a country lass who is book-learned too. You want someone who can mend yer weskit and teach ya to read, as well as have high social standing in the Hobbiton upper-class. And she has ta be a looker too, knowin’ yer taste in the ladies, and not mind raisin’ a pastle o’ children. Yer never gonna find someone like that. Why don’t cha just settle down with someone ya love and see what comes after that? Someone like Corabell.”

“Now you sound like me sister!” Theo countered. “I’ll find someone right for me. I’ll meet a nice, pretty lass, jump the broom, and raise a gaggle of children on a little acreage here near Hobbiton. And we’ll get invited to high tea with the Widow Weatherby and hob-knob with the Mayor and such lot.”

“You sound like you want ta be just like Samwise Gamgee,” Shandy said.

“Yes!” Theo pointed with his knife. “I want to better myself the way Master Gamgee’s done. He’s got Bag End now, and a bairn on the way. He can read and everyone respects him and his lot, even though he’s just a gardener. I want someone like his Rose Cotton. She used to work here before she got herself in tha family way. Does she have any sisters?”

“Na,” Shandy said, “only brothers. Look, Theo, why bother with all this nonsense about betterin’ yerself? You’ve already done a sight of betterin’ yerself by movin’ out of Overhill and startin’ up all this trade with the dwarves.”

“Well, yes, but that’s just business stuff,” Theo mused. “It don’t get me into society.” He turned a keen eye on his musician friend. “You get around to all the pubs. You know everybody and their cousins. Know any lasses in the area who might fit what I’m lookin’ for?”

Shandy took a sip of his beer and carefully thought about the question. He could tell Theo was serious about this. “Ya might want to try the new doc here in town; Iris Proudfoot. She’s originally from the South Farthing but everyone in the area knows and respects her already. The Mayor likes her. Now, she ran around with Frodo Baggins up until recently, but my sources tell me she’s broke up with him. She’s available.” Shandy grabbed a piece of bread. “But she’s a real smart book-learned gal, that one is, Theo. She might not even give you the time ‘o’ day.”

That was all Theo needed. The doctor! That was it! The solution to his desire to integrate himself into Hobbiton high society while at the same time gaining female companionship. Theo thanked Shandy and headed back to his forge. He spent the next few hours getting his courage up. This was the day he was going to ask the new doctor out for dinner. He thought it over very carefully and saw another golden opportunity presented to himself.

Why, the lass was right there, living no more than five buildings away from him. She was smart. She was pretty enough, though not an outstanding beauty like Pearl Took. Iris Proudfoot was not forward in that annoyingly teasing manner which so many of the Hobbiton lasses seemed to have cultivated. She was older than he, but still of the age where having several children was not out of the question. She came from a farm down in the South Farthing and knew the ways of field and barn. True, she could be bossy some times, but that was to be expected when you’re a physician. And true, she had recently been dating Frodo Baggins, who didn’t have the best reputation in the Shire due to him going off on a long adventure. But she was evidently over him now, and was available to the right lad who had the nerve to ask her out. Why not Theo Tuggle? Why not, indeed!

Despite the cool weather, Theo was standing outside the opened doors to the forge, cooling off after an intense few hours at the anvil. In deference to the forge’s heat and his physical exertions, he had removed his shirt and was clothed in breeches and the ever-present protective leather apron. Sweat trickled down his naked back and gleamed on his muscular arms. Theo was oblivious to the appreciative stares from most of the unmarried lasses (and quite a few of the married ones) gathered in the market square.

He could see Iris coming out of her physician’s offices, walking over and posting something on the community bulletin board. Theo couldn’t read, and as Iris was not having the notice announced by the town crier, he thought no more of it. It wasn’t important. She was. Theo set aside his hammer, wiped his grimy hands on his leather apron, cleaned his face with his handkerchief, and walked over to the bulletin board.

“Good day, Doctor Proudfoot,” he said.

Iris turned and flashed a smile at the blacksmith. “Good day, Mister Tuggle.” She finished posting her notice. “Nice to see you. Business must be very good, as I can constantly hear you pounding away at the anvil.”

“Thank you, Doc. Yes, business is hoppin’,” Theo replied. “If ya don’t mind me askin’, what’s that ya just posted?”

“Oh, it’s a notice that there is an outbreak of measles over at the Bugleton’s farm out past Overhill,” Iris said.

“Pic Bugleton’s place?” Theo inquired. “Well, that’s not surprisin’ with all them kids. Hope they’re doin’ well otherwise. I know Pic from way back when him and me were wee lads and our Da’s worked ole Sloggy’s farm.”

“They are doing well, the measles notwithstanding,” Iris laughed and turned to leave. “Be seeing you around Mister Tuggle.”

“Um, Miss Proudfoot?” Theo cleared his throat. “Call me Theo. After all, we are near neighbors. I hope you don’t think me being too forward, but I was wonderin’ if you might want to be takin’ dinner with me tonight? Chas tells me the Green Dragon is havin’ a nice roast pig with taters, onion and apple stuffing, and I sure like roast pig. Would you care to join me?”

Much to Theo’s surprise, Iris accepted his invitation. “I’ll come by for ya about sundown then,” the blacksmith waved as he walked back to his shop. “Will wonders never cease?” he thought to himself. “If ya don’t try for it, you’ll never get it, as me Da used to say. Sure has been my lucky year!” Theo whistled a jaunty tune as he shoveled more coals into the furnace and started working the bellows.

The conversation was overheard by May Bracegirdle, the town gossip, who had her jams and jellies booth set up in the market square at a strategic location for hearing everything about anybody. May went into action. Soon the entire square knew that the doctor was available for dating. Word would be in Bywater and points further by the next morning. May’s gossip circle was even more efficient than the Shire Messenger service.

Dinner was outstanding even by hobbit standards. Theo closed his shop early to take an extra-long and extra-soapy bath to remove the smell of the forge. He wanted the night to be perfect, as he knew how important a good first impression could be. The handsome blacksmith wore one of his new matching suits – not his best, as he didn’t want to appear too eager – but nice enough. He and Iris enjoyed their dinner and even got into an interesting conversation over desert. He was surprised to learn that the doctor knew quite a few things about animal husbandry and that her family owned a cotton and flax farm down near the Sarn Ford. They ran a few head of special sheep for the extra-long, extra-soft wool, and her brother and sister-in-law had a successful business weaving cloth out of the goods produced by the family farm.

Theo escorted Iris back to the front door of the Physician’s Office. The crescent moon winked and blinked with each thin, high cloud passing by. The evening air was soft with autumn smells of hay and apples, but the breeze promised cooler rain with the dawn. Theo was very polite and sensitive to his date; every bit the gentle, strong country hobbit he was brought up to be. The moment of leaving was a bit awkward, with Iris hesitant. They briefly kissed on the doorstep before Iris went inside and closed the door. Theo grinned and started whistling as he strode back to his little house behind the forge.

Iris leaned her back against the front door and sighed. Theo was a nice, well-mannered hobbit, especially for a country lad. He was handsome and strong and young. He was successful. He was intelligent and resourceful and even a bit ambitious. He could hold his own in a conversation and was making friends in Hobbiton quickly. He had a pleasant smile and a charming, if somewhat shy, manner. He smelled faintly of smoke and peat from the bellows, which wasn’t an unpleasant smell. But it was not the same.

He was not Frodo. She couldn’t help the comparison. It was unfair to Theo, but it was there. He was not Frodo. There was no spark; no fire.

Iris walked down the hallway and into her bedroom, lighting the little candle on the dressing table and one of the wall sconces. She shuffled into the kitchen and poured herself a small glass of red wine she had been saving for … for something she couldn’t recall. Wandering back into her bedroom, she went over to her cedar chest and pulled out the blue paisley print dress Frodo had commissioned to be made for her. It shimmered faintly in the candlelight. Her fingers unconsciously found the hidden embroidered nightingale, and with its discovery, Iris began to softly cry.