October 26th

“Here’s one for you and Master Gamgee, and one for Master Baggins as well.” The Shire Messenger handed Rose two identical envelops, tipped his tri-cornered hat with the gay yellow finch’s feather stuck in its brim, and hurried on to the next smial down the road. He was extraordinarily busy today with all the invitations sent out from Hobbiton. His mail bag was overloaded with identical envelops as well as his usual bundle of mail and small parcels. Mister Hamfast Gamgee of New Bag Shot Row #3 was next on his route.

Rose stood on the stoop just outside the front door, broke the cobalt blue wax seal and opened the cream-colored envelop. “Sam!” she called as she walked back into the house. “We’re invited to Freddy’s wedding party.”

Sam came out of the living room to join his wife in the hallway. “Well, he’s finally found a lass to cook for him and clean up after him,” Sam laughed as he read the invitation. “Freddy’s always been a bit of a pig. I remember spending the night at his house in Hobbiton once after a rather late night at the Green Dragon. Me and Hamson spent at least 20 minutes moving things to clear up a space on the floor for a blanket. Hope Peony knows what she’s gotten herself in for. Looks like the Green Dragon Inn is the place to be on November 10th.”

“What do you think we should bring?” Rose inquired. “I mean, as a wedding gift and all?”

“A new broom and rubbish bin,” a dark voice called from inside the study.

“Oh, Mister Frodo,” Rose snickered, “you’re a terrible tease.”

“Freddy has never owned either, judging from the state of his rooms,” Frodo said as he peeked out from his study.

“Oh my, here’s your invitation too,” Rose handed him an identical envelop. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hold onto it.”

Frodo accepted the envelop from Rose’s hand and studied it. It was addressed to Mister Frodo Baggins and Guest. Fredigar Bolger was not subtle about anything. Frodo wondered it he could get away with attending without a guest.

“Are you going to go to the party, Frodo?” Sam asked. Frodo had refused each and every social engagement proffered him during the past two weeks. This annoyed Sam to no end and worried Rose. Getting Frodo out of Bag End was proving more difficult than Sam could have ever imagined. ‘Like convincing a cat that he likes sitting in the rain,’ Sam thought.

“I shall consider it,” Frodo replied noncommittally, opening and reading his own invitation as he leaned against the doorway post.

“Well that’s as good as a ‘no’,” Sam muttered, crossing his arms and frowning at Frodo. “And Freddy’s your good friend too. Shame on you if you don’t go to his wedding party. Merry and Pippin are sure to be there. All our friends will be there. It will be a grand time. And Miss Iris will be there too, you know.”

“I said I shall consider it, Sam,” Frodo gently said as he slipped the invitation back inside its envelop. “I did not say ‘No.’ And yes, I realize the doctor will be in attendance. Sam, you are as subtle as a forest fire.” He placed the invitation in his coat pocket and started down the interior hallway. “I wonder if Freddy and Peony would like a bottle of the new Wynyard’s vintage? I think we still have a few bottles of their claret left from when we first moved back into Bag End. I am sure they are in excellent health. I really should restock the wine cellar …” Frodo’s voice faded away as he wandered off into the deeper portions of the smial.

“Samwise Gamgee,” Rose hissed, “that was un-called-for.” She thwacked him with the empty envelop. “You’re a terrible match-maker, did anyone ever tell you?”

“You know as well as I do that he won’t go unless we drag him along,” Sam continued frowning. “If he doesn’t go to Freddy’s wedding party I’ll haul his sorry ass down to the doc’s place and force the two of ‘em to have it out in the open. I swear he’s really getting on my nerves now.”

“And Samwise Gamgee, you’re getting on mine.” Rose was now frowning. “Why don’t you go cool off over at yer Gaffer’s? I don’t want you two hot heads snapping at each other all day, and seein’ as Frodo’s not likely to leave, why don’t you? I’m sure your old Dad’s been invited to the party too. It’ll give ya something to talk about besides the weather or plants or his aches. You know he’s not feeling very good this week, and a visit from you would cheer him up.”

“All right, all right,” Sam said as he grabbed his coat. “I’ll be over at me Gaffer’s for awhile.”

“Sam,” Rose stopped him before he could open the front door, “wait. Let me send over some lunch with you. Come on, let’s go into the kitchen.” Rose and Sam disappeared into the kitchen before Frodo reappeared from the cellar. Sam exited the back door and was gone for the rest of the day.

Frodo returned to his study, finding Rose and Sam had vacated the hallway, leaving it empty and silent. He pulled the envelop out of his pocket, once again staring at the address: “…and Guest …”

“Great,” Frodo sourly thought, “and who am I supposed to invite as my escort? Maybe Gandalf will magically appear and save me from this social fiasco waiting to happen.” He carefully placed the envelop between two inkwells. The cobalt blue wax seal gleamed softly against the cream-colored paper. “That color certainly catches the eye,” he thought. “Hmmm…”

Frodo sat down at his desk and composed a short message to be sent into Hobbiton. He was able to wave down the Messenger and get his outgoing mail picked up. The mailman was on his way back to Hobbiton after his New Bag Shot Row deliveries.

‘I do hope she can get it finished and out here before the 10th,’ Frodo thought, watching the Messenger disappear around a bend in the road. ‘If Iris sees it, her curiosity will get the best of her judgment and she will be forced to talk with me.’ Frodo returned to his work, humming a little song written by Bilbo and taking a sip from a small glass of red wine which had been sitting untouched since dinner the pervious night. It was still good.

Ted Sandyman also received an invitation to Fredigar Bolger and Peony Fairweather’s wedding party. It was only proper, seeing as how Ted was Peony’s first cousin. As soon as one of the mill workers finished reading his invitation to him, Ted headed off to Hobbiton. He planned to invite Iris Proudfoot to attend the party as his guest. “That’ll annoy the Baggins to no end,” he chuckled to himself.

“Miss Proudfoot is busy with a patient, Mister Sandyman,” Opal Boffin said as Ted stood in the doctor’s waiting room. “She is almost through though, if you care to wait?”

In a few minutes, an elderly gentlehobbit exited, and Iris entered the waiting room. Ted’s plans were soon dashed, much to his dismay.

“Thank you so very much, Mister Sandyman,” Iris politely smiled, “but I already have a date to the party. Mister Tuggle is escorting me. It was very lovely of you to think of me, and I appreciate the invitation.”

“Oh...” Ted hadn’t planned on Iris being unavailable. “Um, well, I guess I’ll see ya there then, I guess.” He knew he sounded stupid, but Ted couldn’t think of anything else to say. And that Boffin lass was there to witness his humiliation! He thought he saw Opal snickering behind her hand. Ted’s temper began to rise.

“Yes,” Iris replied. “See you at the party.” She quietly shut the door as Ted left the building.

Ted seethed as he trudged back to Bywater, hands in his pockets and a scowl on his face. He was furious at having been outwitted by the blacksmith (so he thought). ‘I’ll get even with that stinkin’ smithy. But how? Hmmm … If I can’t escort the Doc to the party, I can make for certain I’m the one to take her home. But how? I’ll invite Tuggle’s old girlfriend to be my date. What’s her name? Um… Corabell Higgenbothom. That’s it. Cute little farm lass from just outside Overhill. Not a bad looker either, though a bit thick in the head, which ain’t such a bad thing in a girl. I’ll dump her onto Theo while we’re at the party, sos I can pick up the Doc.’

Ted was in a much better mood by the time he arrived at the pub in Bywater. Dibble was already there, and with a drink in hand for his only friend.