Twelve-mile cousin: A hobbit term referring to the birthday tradition of being obligated to exchange presents with all relatives within a twelve-mile distance. To be a twelve-mile cousin is to ignore the birthdays of those you do not wish to associate with, despite social niceties. Term coined by JRR Tolkien and used in his Letters.
Merry Gardner had always liked Washing Day best out of the whole week. By the time the clothes and linens of fourteen small hobbits and three slightly larger ones had gone through the tub and the mangle, Mum was so exhausted that the younger children could clamber up onto her with impunity as she sat by the fire. Often as not Hope would lose the standard argument with Rosie over the washing of her and Delphinium's clothes - 'put them in the water, lass, I won't notice two frocks and two blouses amongst all this... blast it, how does Pippin get so dirty?' - and would bribe all the trouble-makers into good behaviour by way of a thank-you.
Dad would come home for luncheon and roll his sleeves up and go out into the garden, claiming that he only needed a minute's air to clear the cobwebs that came from dealing with political folk all morning. Usually this minute lasted all afternoon, because Washing Day was so noisy and cheerful that being Mayor seemed like a poor second prize in comparison to staying at home. Uncle Frodo and Hope would venture outdoors as well, collecting whatever children were within shouting distance and using them as a critical audience for recent writings. The afternoon would turn into yells of 'oooh, do your teeth really fall out if you don't eat vegetables? How gruesome!' and 'please let the goose-girl find the secret trapdoor, I couldn't bear it if she doesn't escape', and sometimes the occasional 'you borrowed that from the other day, that's just what happened when Fro and me tried to steal... er, nevermind. Lovely story'.
And then after a put-together tea (which was Merry's private name for the dinnertimes where everyone ate whatever they felt like making for themselves, lots of crackling and bread-and-butter and fried mushrooms in the crowded kitchen air) everybody would curl up in whatever spot they found most comfortable and have drowsy conversations about things that didn't mean very much. It was a lovely time, and the one that Merry felt sure he'd remember clearest when he looked back on his tweenaged years.
"Can we have a song, Mummy?" Ruby asked, snuggling up against the crook of her mother's arm. "Please?"
"Oh, I suppose," Rosie said with a smile. "What sort of song would you like?"
"One about horrid slimy things!" Bilbo said before his sisters could suggest anything flowery and stupid. "Things that go bump and squish in the dark."
"I think I know just the song, then." And Rosie began to sing.
"Goblin wood has creepy stairs
and twisty dark tree thickets
and Goblin men as quick as hares
and quite as brown as crickets
I put on my scarlet coat
and scarlet cap-a-bobbin.
For, if they see me there, I thought,
They'll take me for a robin!"
At this line Robin clapped in delight and the other children giggled.
"Down the Goblin stairs I crept
to see the Goblin caveses,
the little men in caps of iron,
I did not feel much braveses.
Goblin wood has Goblin snares
and Goblin-dark tree thickets.
When I went down Goblin stairs,
I didn't stay a minute!"
"Can I have some clippings from your lovely yellow tea roses for my birthday, Marigold?" Aislin asked, winding long skiens of bright green wool around her fingers while Marigold shelled equally bright peas on the front step beside her.
"It's not polite to ask for what you want, girl," Marigold grinned.
"But how else will I ever get it?" Aislin grinned back. "I've been collecting interesting mathomy things to give everybody and thinking about it so much that I completely forgot that other people will be wanting to give me things too. And I just remembered, so I thought I should say so."
"Well, all right, clippings you shall have."
"Did you know Sammie Gardner has the same birthday as me?"
"Aye." Marigold's voice was short.
"He and I decided to have a joint birthday party, so that we can each have twice the food. You'll come, won't you? It's to be at Bag End. Sammie's giving my cousin Aster a brooch that was made by really-real Elves, he showed it to me and it's the prettiest thing I've ever seen, though I don't think I'd like to have one myself for fear I'd lose it. I always seem to lose things, even though I do try and be careful."
"How you have a chance to breathe with your tongue always dancing I'll never understand." Marigold picked up the bowl of shelled peas and stood. "Come on, Tom and Owen will be back before long, let's get a start on dinner."
Chopping and stirring didn't interrupt Aislin's talking.
"I found Owen an adventure-book about dragons in the Pincup library, they've sold off a lot of their old stories because they haven't the room anymore. Well, Hope Grubb found it for me, but she knew I was looking. Sammie's giving a lot of people books, too. It seems such a nice thing, doesn't it, to feed somebody's imagination?"
"Imagination's well and good but you'll need to get another onion out, that one's not enough to feed four in a stew."
"Oh, Marigold," Aislin sighed. "How unromantical you can be. What have you gotten for Sammie, then?"
Marigold didn't answer, concentrating on the adding of salt to the pot.
"Marigold! You haven't not-gotten a present, have you? You're more like a twelve-mile cousin than an aunt. It's downright awful, and I know you're not really awful. Just a shade sensible."
Marigold scowled at the criticism. "You'd do well to be more sensible yourself. And I'm not his aunt, as any with eyes can see."
"Family's more than blood. Why, we're not related at all and we're close as kin, aren't we? What with my brother apprenticed to Tom and me helping you in the dairy every day. And Tom's still Mrs Rose's sister, even if you're going to get uppity about your brother not really being Sammie's dad. Sammie calls him Dad, which is the only thing that should matter if you pardon my say-so. So you are his aunt, and I'm sure he's got something to give you. Please, Marigold? He's such a nice little boy, on he's not so little on account of the fact he'll be having a birthday on Tuesday next and he'd so love it if you were nice to him."
"Go fill the water jug, there's a girl," Marigold mumbled. Aislin clapped her hands.
"Hooray! You're going to get him something now, I can tell. You are a dear."
"Careful! You're going to upset the pan if you don't pay heed!"
"I found them, Stelly!" Pippin called, pushing the door to the tiny store-room open wide and crouching beside the two little girls. If he'd tried standing tall his head would have crashed against the low beams of the roof, for the Bolgers had always been rather short and had built their home accordingly.
Estella came to the open doorway, the annoyance on her face melting into concern. Ruby and Primrose were huddled together, faces blotchy and filthy in a manner that can only be achieved by having a very long cry in a particularly dusty room.
"Girls? Whatever's the matter?" Estella put down the two bottles of stout she'd been carrying and sat beside Pippin.
"Mr Fr-Fr-Fredegar was tellin' us stories," Ruby managed to answer after a few moments. "And... and... he told us about the... I can't say it prop'ly, Prim."
"The Bean-Nighe." Primrose was gulping so much and her nose was running to the point where the words came out as wet jumbles of letters.
"Sometimes I want to put that hobbit over my knee and tan him as our mother did when he was small," Estella muttered angrily. "Of all the stupid -"
"Girls." Pippin cut into Estella's vitriol with a calm voice. "The Bean-Nighe -" and without gulps and sniffles and with a proper Tookish inflection, the name came out like three little taps. Ben Nee Jah. The fabled ghost-woman of old stories, fated to wash the bloodied clothes of those about to die. The Bean-Nighe, the tale went, were those who'd lost their lives giving birth. Of all the things to tell two of the children of Rosie Gamgee, who had spent near on twenty years in a family way (and not always with a happy result) and another year again atop that recoving from the last of her miscarriages.
Pippin and Estella shared an angry, horrified look, remembering their own childhood terror at the story and imagining how sharpened it must be for these girls. Fredegar's future suddenly included quite a bit of shouting.
"- the Bean-Nighe," Pippin finished saying, "is not anything more than a story. You don't have to fear it. Here." He pulled the cork out of one of the bottles on the floor. "Have a sip of this, and dry your faces, and we'll all of us rest for a minute."
The girls spluttered at the taste of the strong drink, but it did help calm them and made them feel better.
Estella, ignoring the damage done to her skirt by the dust, drew her knees to her chest and gazed around the store room.
"This used to be my hiding spot, too, when I was just about the age you girls are now. I would come here and cry and cry."
"Why?" Ruby asked, squirming her way onto Pippin's lap.
Estella gave a sad smile, pushing an errant lock of Ruby's bright hair off the girl's face. "Because I knew I was different. I liked lasses instead of lads. It can be very hard to know you're not the same as other people."
"There's why there are so many Gardners. So that we can have lots of other people to be different with," Ruby explained happily. "But you like lads as well, don't you?"
"There are one or two I find tolerable." Estella grinned at Pippin. "But no, Ruby, not the way you mean. Sometimes you can love somebody enough to lie with them even if your body doesn't think it's very exciting, if they want it. I love Merry and Pip as much as I love Dinny, but it's never lads that make my heart go thud-thud."
"One... one of the Gardner girls is like that," Primrose put in quietly. "She doesn't cry or anything, I think she knows deep down that nobody will much mind when she tells them. She was awfully sweet on Del Grubb for a while, but Del's got eyes for nobody but Sammie, and the Gardner girl got bored with unrequited affection. She likes Ness Tanner from Michel Delving now, she can't help blushing whenever Ness brings mayoral things for Dad, Ness is so nice to talk to."
"But Prim, you're the only one who talks to Ness. The two of you are always prattling and scheme... oh." Ruby shut her mouth with a snap, eyes big and round. Then she shrugged. "Well, most boys are awful anyway, I can see why you'd want nothing to do with them."
"Oi!" Ruby got a poke in the ribs from Pippin.
"I said most boys. Anyway, you're not a boy. You're a grown-up," Ruby said, as if it were another breed entirely. They all chuckled at that, and Estella gave Primrose a big big hug.
"And what about Sammie? Does he love Delphinium in return?" Stel asked the girls.
"In a way," Ruby answered, glad to be able to offer useful information. Fancy Prim coming out with a revelation like that! "But he's going to marry Aster when we're all grown."
"He seems very young to know that," Pippin pointed out.
"Oh, he's known for always and ever. They both have." Ruby's tone was breezy.
"Really?" Estella and Pippin looked surprised.
"Yes," Primrose said before Ruby could. "I think Sammie liked to take care of someone, because everyone's always taking care of him... or trying to, anyway. And Aster needs someone nice and kind, so she lets Sammie protect her."
"How do you know all this?! I don't know any of it." Ruby was incensed.
"I actually pay attention and listen instead of just making a racket," Primrose retorted, earning a glare from her sister.
"What's Aster like?" Pippin asked Primrose. Ruby's scowl deepened, and Estella couldn't help smiling secretly at that. Poor Ruby always wanted to be the star, a role she rarely got in her sprawling family.
"Aster... Aster's the sort that knows that pleats need ironing with a damp cloth, and that an inside-out glove can scatter a fairy ring. She's sensible and daydreamy all at once, which is a lot like Mum, really. She's not a bossy sort like Mum, though."
Ruby, despite her bad mood, couldn't help but giggle at Prim's daring to speak of a parent like that with their aunt and uncle present.
"And your brothers and sisters? Do any of them have sweethearts?" Estella asked. Prim, warming to her role as a gossip font, considered her answer for a beat before speaking.
"Elanor's always been a bit taken with Fastred, but she's not in any hurry. She's still sad because of Goodwill." Estella and Pippin nodded. The boy's death had been a blow to them all. "And Fastred's always liked El, but he liked Pug... Goodwill, too, so he didn't mind so much, and now he's guilty that he and Elanor are starting to be happy again."
Ruby wriggled, disliking the melancholy turn in the conversation, and stood up.
"I'm going to go see what everyone else is doing," she said, leaving with a smile and going off in search of something more cheerful.
Hamfast was carrying two large baskets of currant buns down the lane as Ruby walked up it. She took one of them off him and fell into step beside her brother.
"Ham, do you think I'm pretty?"
"Why, yes, Ruby, I do indeed."
"Are you going to get married and be a Dad one day?"
"I expect so. Most everyone does, except those who don't wish to."
"So you'd want your children to be pretty, wouldn't you? With red hair?" Ruby asked archly, gloating that there were some things she knew and miss clever-cap Prim didn't. Hamfast shot her one of his rare grins.
"Playing matchmaker, Ruby?"
"Just asking questions, Ham."
"Of course."
They walked along in cheerful silence.
"Give it to us, Delly my love. It's my birthday, and I wants it."
Delphinium giggled helplessly as Sammie pawed at her, kicking out as his fingers found ticklish spots under her ribs. "All right, you git, take it!"
Ripping the paper off, Sammie crowed in delight. "Liquorice! Thanks, Del!" He crammed a handful into his mouth. "Your preshent ish over there on the table."
"Don't talk with your mouth full," Sam tried to scold in the din. The whole household was awake and romping about underfoot, for even though birthdays were a regular even at Bag End they were always met with delight. Merry Brandybuck, who always gave ridiculously extravagant presents, had given a slim telescope (made by Elves and quite the marvellous novelty) in a leather case, and there were books and toys and sweets aplenty both provided and recieved by the now-slightly-closer-to-grown-up Sammie.
Ruby was carefully tying Robin up with her new skipping rope, dodging the blunt arrows Bilbo fired from his old play-bow. He'd long ago lost the original quiver-full, much to the relief of his parents, but Sammie had thoughtfully given him a brand new set.
Daisy was at the window with her new kaliedescope (which, in her opinion, was much better than a telescope. Who wanted to see ordinary far-off things instead of nice shiny patterns anyway?) and gave a shout as two figures came up the lane.
"It's Aunt Marigold and Aislin come to visit! Oooh, I hope Aislin has presents for us." Uncle Frodo gave her a stern look. "I mean, er, it's very nice for her to come and visit on her birthday. Especiallyifshebringspresents."
Uncle Frodo laughed, going back to the story he was reading out from young Tom's new book. Rosie and Sammie and Ham went to open the door, Ham hanging back shyly as Aislin stepped inside.
"Happy birthday, lass," Rosie was saying, giving Aislin a kiss on the cheek. "If you'll stay a minute, Elanor and Rose are just getting one of those carrot cakes you like so much out of the oven."
"Can't stay now, sorry, got lots to do before the party this afternoon. And tell Daisy she'll have her present then and not before, and that her voice carries when she shouts at an open window."
Rosie laughed, doing her best to give Marigold some of her smile. She'd spent so many years teaching her children how to behave, she could at least feign politeness to Sam's sister. "Hullo, Marigold."
"Hello, Rose. Happy birthday, Sam-lad. Here." Marigold thrust a small package into his hands. "We'd best be off. Come along, Aislin."
"See you at the party, Ham," Aislin said with a curtsey before leaving.
"What's in it, then?" Goldy asked impatiently, the number of hobbits in the hall having swelled considerably very quickly.
"It's a book of sums and divisions! What a thing to give!" Pippin groaned. "Hard luck, Sammie."
"It was right nice of her to try and make an effort, though," Frodo-lad pointed out.
"Hear hear," Sam agreed. "Now all of you out in the sunshine, something - or someone - is going to end up lost or broken if you all stay indoors. Yes, even you big grown-up folk, it's too nice a day for squashing about inside."
The years had shown a tendency to widen their rumps, but Sam and Frodo and Rosie still fitted well enough side by side on the bench.
"We've done all right, haven't we, really," Rosie mused as they watched the brood of small and not-so-small children dash about with whoops and shrieks.
"Easy enough to say when they're behaving," Frodo pointed out.
"Good luck and good stock have made us blessed as the Elves ever were, I reckon," Sam said. "And now we get happily ever after."
"Owwww! Mummy, Primrose pinched me!"
"I didn't! I didn't, Mum, he's lying. Ow! Now he's bitten me!"
"You pinched first!"
"Didn't!"
"Well," Frodo laughed. "You can call it that if you like Sam. For my part, I think I might go seek out the Goblin cave in Rosie's song. Have some peace and quiet."
"Goblins? Where? I'll fight a Goblin, cut off his head with a swish of my trusty sword!"
"Robin, that's a picket left over from the old fence."
"So? 's as good as a sword. Bet I really could kill a Goblin with it."
"Or take a hobbit's eye out, more like," Sam confiscated the splintery post. "Go play something nice with your brothers and sisters."
"What, like the game that Del and Daisy are at, pretending to cannibalise Sammie? They're saying it's a special birthday ritual in foreign parts, all the boys get et as soon as they're big enough."
Sam tried to keep a stern face despite the giggling that Frodo and Rosie had collapsed into behind him. Robin smiled a gap-toothed smile, the picture of innocence.
"Yes. Go play that. Tell them that their Dad says that no birthday boys are to be eaten until after the party this afternoon, you hear?"
"Crisis very neatly avoided there, Sam," Frodo said through a smile that was on the verge of being a laugh again.
"Well, I'm not mayor for nothing," Sam answered proudly, putting one arm around Rosie's shoulders and the other around Frodo's, watching as the children experimented as to how many of them could fit in the loop of Ruby's skipping rope at once.
~
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