The Unlikely Ones
Chapter Ten: Party Plans
a Lord of the Rings fanfiction
by Van Donovan
joy@crackerboxpalace.com

Frodo was surprised to awaken in the morning to find Merry still in bed beside him but he did not mind a bit. The weak sun filtering in through the closed shutters told him it was not so late that he should get up out of bed and start work but he found he was awake. He snuggled into Merry, curling against his strong arms and warm chest contently. "Morning, Frodo," he heard the older hobbit breathe, his voice thick with the disuse of sleep. Frodo chuckled softly as Merry's arm fell to drape over him lightly.
"Mornin' Merry," he murmured back against his neck.
The room was silent but for their breathing yet in the distance there seemed to be some quiet noise filtering down to them, drowned out by the shuttered windows. Frodo strained his ears for it as he lay contently nestled in Merry's arms when his eyes opened and he sat up suddenly, startling Merry who had half fallen asleep again. "Rain!" Frodo exclaimed.
"Eh?" Merry looked up at the boy bleary eyed. "Aye, it's rainin'. Been since dawn. I decided t'stay home for a bit for it." He sat up though, as Frodo seemed to be much more excited abut the prospect of rain than he. "What're you doing?"
Frodo had climbed out of the bed and was pulling on a fresh pair of breeches, looking suddenly awake and more than happy enough. "I knew it'd rain, that's why I worked so hard, laying down the fertilizer when I did," he was buttoning up a shirt now.
"Frodo, you're not planning to go out there and play in the manure again are you?" Merry said with a tired smile. Frodo laughed fondly at him.
"Indeed I am, dear Merry," and he climbed back on the step stool and onto the bed to kiss him, "and come back reeking of it, just for you."
Merry put his arms around Frodo, pulling him close, his eyes hooded, "I suppose that means I'll have to wash you clean later then," he murmured. Frodo kissed him again lightly then wormed his way out of Merry's embrace lest the older hobbit start the washing now.
"Indeed you will, and I shall enjoy it then, but now I want to see if my soil has stayed or been washed away, and I think you should get to work, rain or not." He hopped off the bed again listening to Merry laughing then was out the door, slipping into his jacket as he pulled it off the peg it hung on in the main hall. He opened the front door and stepped out into the cold rain that was pouring down, casting at glance to the leaden sky.
He picked his way along the path, standing at the edge and looking out onto the soil he had fertilized the day before. It was dark black and sodden but even though it was on a soft slope from the hill he was pleased to see it had not turned to mush and there were no miniature rivers running through the bed, which would have washed the seeds away. "Good rain," he murmured as he stepped out into the soil, his toes sinking half an inch in the wetness as he walked his way across, checking all the soil for denseness. Rain would be excellent for the soil since he had just laid the manure the day before. Rain would pound it into the earth and nourish the seeds far better than he could ever do on his own.
After about half an hour when he was making his way around the other side of the hole, still with his eyes fixed on the earth, his feet patting the soil down on occasion, Merry came out of the front and stood on the stoop looking out at the driving rain, scanning for Frodo in the mists. "Frodo?" he called and the younger hobbit's head came up, smiling to see him. "There you are. What are you doing?" he inquired watching Frodo smoothing out the soil with his toes.
"Gardening," he said simply then offered Merry his bright smile. "You can't grow flowers from mud!" he added with a laugh and when it seemed Merry still didn't understand he gave him an annoyed pout, smoothed the soil out once more with his feet and bounded over to him, dripping from head to toe with water. "If I didn't check the topsoil, the rain might just wash it away and all the hard work I did yesterday would be for naught."
Merry shook his head, "I'm glad I hired you, then," he said leaning on the doorway. "I would just dig holes and drop in seeds."
"And you'd get flowers from that, sure enough," Frodo said, wiping the rain from his eyes, "but chances are most of them wouldn't grow and they'd be scattered and unhealthy. I don't just garden, I suppose; I make things grow."
"Indeed you do," and he looked like he was going to touch Frodo's cheek but instead he brushed some wet curls that had formed little spirals at his forehead aside. "Are you finished? I have breakfast waiting and the bath water heating. There's not much more you can do, in this weather." Frodo sighed and looked over his shoulder at the dreary street and nodded.
"I can't refuse such an offer as that, and I reckon the garden can wait until the rain stops for my hands to get dirty again." He looked back to Merry critically then. "Why aren't you at your office then, Master Brandybuck?"
"Well I don't know how it is in Hobbiton," Merry said as he led Frodo inside to the foyer, "but we get every seventh day of work off." He bade Frodo stand there while he fetched towels and a bucket of water for him to clean his feet off with.
"I do not claim to be well learned," Frodo called as he heard Merry working the water pump in the kitchen, "but by my count we have not been back seven days yet."
"Aye, that's true," Merry said over his shoulder, his voice carrying back to where Frodo stood, unbuttoning his shirt, "but come Highday no one works, least not after noon."
"Yes, but it's not after noon is it, Merry?" Frodo said with a chuckle and pulled his soaked shirt off as Merry reappeared in the hall with his basin of water. Frodo washed his feet clean of the manure and mud and dried himself off, leaving his wet clothes by the door as he wrapped himself up in a towel-blanket and walked into the main hall to sit before the fire. Shortly after Merry came into the hall, carrying a tray of food that instantly set Frodo's stomach rumbling. They ate and talked content in each others presence and took a languid relaxing bath until noon came around and the soft rumbling of the rain outside died out. "I should go check on the flowerbed again and see if I can't start work on the vegetable garden," Frodo said as he pulled on a fresh shirt.
"I suppose I should go check into work," Merry agreed, standing up and brushing his hair a bit. "Not that I want to, mind you, but if Hornblower is still hot on that party then I have a lot of preparations to do." He pulled his overcoat off one of the many pegs in the hall.
Frodo groaned, following him, buttoning the shirt as he walked after him. "You think he will still want to? I mean, after everything that happened yesterday?"
"I don't know, Frodo. Knowing him, though, yes. I'm sure he'll insist you not be here, as well," he put his fingers to Frodo's protesting mouth, "so that's all the more reason I need to go in and talk to him."
Frodo wrinkled his nose and sighed, stepping back with a nod. "Alright. I don't like it, but alright." Merry nodded and kissed Frodo's brow and then was off down the slick path that lead to the gates of the Brandyhall. Frodo followed him out, watching him fondly as he left and sighing a bit as he glanced to the soggy gardens about him. He trudged out, getting his feet muddy again, planning to mulch the vegetable bed.

Frodo had worked for about an hour when he heard a voice call out, "Ho there Mr. Gardener!" He turned blinking and looked at the hailer. It was Laurel Burrows, the bright eyed lass he had met the day before. Surprised, he got to his feet and wiped his muddy hands on his breeches as he started down the hill towards her, smirking at seeing her standing there in the muddy street.
"Hullo there Laurel," he said as he approached, raising a quizzical eyebrow at her. "Is there something I can do you for?"
Laurel had a basket in her arms and she was smiling at him as he made his way over, apparently unmindful of the muck she stood in. "Mother bade me bring you some of today’s baking. I would have come for breakfast but the rain was so hard it would have ruined the breads before I got here." Frodo blinked at the generosity and friendliness of the Burrows and unlatched the gate for her.
"That's terribly nice of your family, thank you," he said and accepted the basket from her as she handed it over. He peeked under the thin tenting covering it and was met with the warm aroma of spiced meat pies, hot bread and cakes. Frodo's stomach rumbled and Laurel laughed. "Won't you come in then, and join me in partaking of these treats?" he said politely as he walked backwards along the path. Laurel smiled softly and clasped her hands in front of her.
"Is Master Brandybuck in then?" she said, her tone light. Frodo chuckled at how nervous she seemed to appear.
"No, no, he's out to work, although I should imagine he will be home in an hour or two. Still, he'd love the company, and I should not mind it either." He proceeded to disarm her fears with a smile so like his fathers, full of understanding and trust. They traveled up the path to the main door of Brandyhall and he let her in, bidding her to wait by the door while he fetched the bucket for them to wash their feet with.
"It must be wonderful living in such a grand place!" she exclaimed as Frodo pumped the water in the kitchen, filling the bucket and washing his hands in the process.
"It's rather nice, yes, but a little empty feeling," he said as he brought the bucket into the main hall for her and they sat down together, laughing as they cleaned their feet. "Most of the rooms are covered in dust from disuse."
"It seems such a shame to waste all that space. We've all been so heart-broken since Mrs. Brandybuck passed away without bearing any children," Laurel said, her voice still soft and light as though she were afraid something she was saying might somehow break something in the room.
Frodo was clean and stood up with a shrug. "Neither Merry or his wife wanted children, so I don't think it's too terrible a shame." He bent to pick up the bucket and Laurel followed him timidly, carrying the basket of goods she had brought as he lead the way into the kitchen.
"You talk so friendly of him. Mr. Brandybuck, that is. It's strange."
Frodo found himself fighting a blush and cleared his throat, "well as I said before, he's a friend of the family." He poured the muddy water down the drain and leaned back against the counter when he was done. "I've known him since I was little, so he's always been like an uncle to me, really." Laurel nodded as she set the basket on the long table.
"I suppose it must be common for you, then. After all, your father is Mayor of Hobbiton, so knowing the Master of Buckland isn't so much different." She was carefully unpacking the basket on the table, setting each goodie on a napkin.
"I don't really think about it," Frodo said as he came over to the table with two mugs, planning to fill them with spiced cider. "Brandyhall is bigger than Bag End where I lived as a kid, no mistake, but the biggest difference I notice between the two is how empty Brandyhall is comparatively. My parents had thirteen kids; it was a little hectic at times."
"Thirteen!" Laurel cried, looking at him with bright wide eyes. "My. Are you the oldest then?" She returned to unpacking the food as Frodo opened the pantry doors that lead into one of the cellars.
"No. I have an older sister," he commented and his voice for a time was lost as he found the kegs of cold cider and flipped the nozzle to fill them. He returned to see the basket on the floor and a veritable feast laid out on the table before him. He handed Laurel one of the mugs and sat across from here. "Wow, this is fantastic."

Less than an hour later they heard the front door open and close. Laurel looked suddenly scared and she and Frodo exchanged glances. Laurel was obviously afraid to be found in the Master of Buckland's house invited in only by his gardener. "Frodo?" came his baritone voice and Frodo tried to smile at Laurel reassuringly.
"I'm in here, Merry!" he called back. "We have a guest, too."
"Oh?" Merry suddenly was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking at Laurel's back and raising an eyebrow at Frodo.
"Laurel Burrows," he said introducing her and tapped her shoulder so she'd turn around to greet the master of the house. She got to her feet instead and curtsied to him.
"You're Merimas' daughter, aren't you?" Merry asked, nodding to her curtsy.
"I am," her cheeks burned. Laurel and Merry were distant cousins as her father was a Brandybuck. She often went as Laurel Brandybuck-Burrows because of her doubly prominent heritage but generally she was only Laurel Burrows because her grandmother on her mother's side, Peony, had not had any sons with Milo and they had asked their eldest daughter Maple to carry on the Burrows name to whomever she married. Maple, true to her parent’s desires had married Merimas only after he agreed to surrender the Brandybuck title or go as Brandybuck-Burrows. It was still well known amoung the Brandybuck line, however, that the Burrows had Brandybuck blood. "We have met before, Master Brandybuck," she said softly, "but it was sometime ago, at a large party."
"Indeed," Merry said, but his eyes were on the food that was laid out on the table. "Seems like there is a party going on here as it is."
Frodo laughed and steered Merry into a chair. "Laurel's family baked us some 'welcome back to Buckland' foods and we've been indulging in them all afternoon. I'll fetch you a cup of cider and you can have some too."
"Yes, please do," Laurel said, her hands clasping in front of her. Frodo got another mug from the cupboard and headed down to get cider for Merry.
"This is really quite nice of your family, thank you very much," Merry said as he took a bite of the bread.
Frodo surfaced several moments later, carrying his mug of cider for Merry. "Did you get to talk to Hornblower again?" he inquired as he handed it off. Merry's eyes glanced from Frodo to Laurel and he shrugged.
"I saw him. It wasn't pretty, but I think I got things squared away," he answered.
"Party?" Laurel asked, her voice timid as though she were afraid to speak out of line.
"Yeah," Frodo said, sitting himself down. "Old Hornblower is having a 'welcome home' party for Merry sometime next week." He didn't sound too excited about the fact.
"That sounds lovely," Laurel said, but her voice seemed hesitant as though unsure why Frodo wasn't more excited about such an event.
"Frodo and Mr. Hornblower got into a bit of a tiff yesterday," Merry explained plainly. "We're also worrying about how to get Brandyhall ready for such an event. With just the two of us it will prove to be quite the undertaking."
There was a moment’s silence and then Laurel said, "I would be happy to help, if you'd like, Master Brandbuck." Frodo and Merry looked at her, then exchanged glances. "My sister Ebony could help too, and my mother as well. We'd be honoured to clean and cook in Brandyhall."
"That would be an unbelievable help," Merry breathed, nodding. "Hornblower has set the day for next Highday, in the evening. It's short notice."
"Next Highday will be just fine, Master Brandybuck. I know my mother will be pleased to know she can help you out at a time like this."
Merry nodded. "Thank you, then."
They talked for a little bit before Merry said, "well, Laurel, this was fantastic, but if I eat much more I'll spoil myself for dinner." That caused a laugh from all three and Laurel took her cue to leave.
"Do stop by again, Laurel," Frodo said with a smile and a wave as the Burrows' daughter took her now-empty basket and left.
"I'll get in touch with you about the party soon," Merry told her and waved as she smiled. Frodo watched her start down the walk that lead to the front door when Merry shut it.
"I thought she'd never leave," he rasped and Frodo looked up at him with a rather surprised face. Merry raised his eyebrows at Frodo's expression. "She's a nice girl, Frodo, it's true, and I will be forever grateful for her mother and sister's help come time for the party, but I had a long day and didn't want to come home to entertain a little girl."
"We're about the same age, and you seen to not mind entertaining me," he said, his voice coming off rather clipped. He had not meant any sexual connotation with the comment but Merry's hand had come up to brush over his cheek and through his dark locks.
"Because you entertain me in return," he said with his husky chuckle.
Frodo pushed Merry off and went back to the kitchen to put away the things that had been moved out of place. Merry sighed and followed him, sitting at the head of the table as he watched Frodo work. "Hornblower chewed me out good," he began, strumming his fingers on the top of the table. "We whittled the list down well," he glanced to Frodo, "and omitted your dad from coming," Frodo hadn't looked at him. "Still, it's going to be crowded and he is really against you're being here."
"Well too bad for him," Frodo hissed with a growl.
"That's my assessment too. I'll tell you what we worked out, but I doubt you'll like to hear it all the same." He watched Frodo as the younger hobbit scrubbed harshly at the mugs. "I told him you were Sam's son, and that changed his opinion of you a little. After all, being the eldest son of the Mayor of Hobbiton gives you some perks." Frodo snorted and Merry sighed. "Still he was not happy with the idea you'd be around, at least not as a guest. So when I told him that Sam wasn't going to come, which hearted him a lot, since I guess he thought you'd nark on him to your dad, he agreed to let you stay at the party as a . . . servant of sorts."
"WHAT?"
"Now, now Frodo, it won't be like you're really a servant, just that's what you need to pretend to be. Hornblower wasn't going to let you stay at all if I didn't suggest that."
Frodo had rounded on him, glaring at him. Merry was taken back by the anger in Frodo's eyes. "Are you the Master of Buckland or aren't you!? Why are you letting this pompous ass tell you who you can and can't have at your own party!?"
Merry sighed and got to his feet, crossing over to Frodo, putting his hands on his belt loops as he looked the boy over. "I knew you'd be angry," but he shook his head, "that's just the way of things, Frodo-lad. It would be too suspicious and strange for you to be there as a guest. You'd be the only child, and even if you are Sam's eldest, without him in attendance the people would gossip. Please don't be mad at me. I am the Master of Buckland, but that doesn't make me King; I can't order people around. Besides, this will work out for the best, in the long run. I'll be able to sneak away to the kitchens to visit you, and you won't have to put up with being polite to Hornblower if you stay put." Frodo gave him a lethal glare, but Merry only smiled at him. "If you behave for the party, I'll see to it that it's worth your while."
"Is everything about sex to you?" he growled.
Merry pursed his lips, as if hurt by the comment. "I wasn't meaning sex. Have you ever heard of the Green Thumb Brigade?"
Frodo blinked up at Merry several times, surprise showing in his eyes. "Yes. My dad told me all about them. They're a group of the best gardeners in the Shire," he said, watching Merry as he nodded, smiling. "They mostly live down in Tookbank, but sometimes travel about to give gardening conventions in Michel Delving and . . . Buckland." His eyes widened.
Merry laughed, "Aye, that's them. They're coming to Buckland in April. The admission fees into the convention are more than most hobbits make in a year, but I'm interested in letting you go see their show. For too long now has Hobbiton had the finest gardens. I'd like Brandyhall to take the title, and I think such a treat will give you just the right sorts of ideas."
"Merry!" Frodo voice was full of awe. As far as he knew, even his father had only gotten to see their convention once, and he had had to wait until he was mayor and get invited to one of their showings up in Michel Delving. For Frodo, who was just over twenty, to get a chance to see them was almost unheard of.
"So then you'll behave for the party?"
Frodo answered him by throwing himself into Merry's arms and kissing him.