Moore or Less by AngieT
A leisurely day of peaceful solitude at Bag End doesn't go exactly as Frodo had planned...
Moore or Less
By AngieT
Beta by Llinos and Marigold
Quote:
”As you value your life or your reason keep away from the moor.” From “The Hound of The Baskervilles” by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Frodo strolled into the study with a cup of tea in one hand and sighed in pleasure. For three months now he had been a resident at Bag End and this was the first time he had the smial to himself for the day.
Bilbo had gone off just after second breakfast on a daylong business trip and Frodo had decided to stay behind and catch up on his writing.
He paused and took in a deep breath as he listened to the silence around him. Utter peace and quiet. He closed his eyes, a small smile of pleasure pulling at his mouth. He would spend the morning catching up on his letters and writing a story for Merry back in Brandy Hall. He had an idea about a knitted hobbit doll that came to life and tried to take over the Hall’s kitchens with disastrous results. He had made a solemn promise to Merry that even though he was now living with Bilbo he would still tell his young cousin stories.
In the afternoon he would have a look at some of Bilbo’s extensive library and then get a stew on to cook for Bilbo’s return.
The study was a welcoming room. A big window overlooked the gardens and sunlight was streaming in now. Bilbo’s desk was on one side of the window and Frodo’s own desk on the other. The other three walls were almost completely covered with bookcases packed with the accumulation of the years. The room also contained two high backed easy chairs and a comfortable sofa covered in a bright blanket. By the fireplace was a little table where Bilbo kept tea things, a cake tin and a wooden bowl for fruit. On each side of the fireplace were two large wooden chests, which Bilbo had carried back from Dale. They were now filled with rolls of parchments, maps and other paraphernalia.
These, as well as every spare surface and most of the floor were covered in piles of books, scrolls, stacks of parchment and framed maps and pictures waiting for nails to be banged into the wall for them to be hung on.
Frodo smiled. Bilbo really was the most dreadful hoarder.
For so long Frodo had only his small room at Brandy Hall to call his own and an Aunt who insisted he keep it tidy. He had never had a desk of his own, relying on a writing box to both store his papers in and to be his writing surface. Now he pulled out the stool from under his desk and prepared to make himself comfortable.
There was a small pile of books on his stool - which he had not left there himself. He picked them up and looked round for a place to put them. Eventually he just shoved the onto a corner of Bilbo’s already cluttered desk and realised his mistake too late as a jam jar full of pencils fell off the other end of the desk onto the floor with a crash.
“Sticklebacks!” Frodo moved round to retrieve the pencils and set the pot back up on the pile of books, which looked none too safe. In stepping back round to his own desk he tripped over another pile of books which caused a framed map to topple over and fall on his foot. Frodo said something much worse this time. He hopped on one foot for a moment before reaching out to steady himself against the desk, and at that point pretty much everything fell off it and Frodo ended up on his backside when he jumped out of the way of the avalanche.
That was it! He refused to live in this mess one moment longer! It was just too dangerous!
Frodo spent the entire day picking up, putting away, tidying and sorting the study. It was amazing what the old hobbit was holding onto. Frodo found 94 pencils, varying from half the length of his own little finger, up to new and unsharpened ones of bright yellow. There were 14 fountain pens and 12 bottle of red ink alone, some of which were quite dried up and solid. There were seven glue pots in various states - Frodo threw away five of them in disgust; four sets of charcoals, numerous paintbrushes, some of which looked to have been used for stirring tea or tamping down pipes. A mouse had got into one set and eaten all the bristles. There were 26 quill pens, 14 knives for sharpening them, and four inkwell sets complete with matching blotters residing in a small chest, which Bilbo used as a footstool. Not to mention seven boxes of candles, three tinderboxes and three silver sealing wax sets, engraved with the twined letters BB. Frodo found oil paints and pastels and so much paper of differing qualities it was bemusing. His final find was a set of 37 folio-sized notebooks of beautiful cream velum, which he had mistakenly thought an ornamental coffee table.
Quite honestly Bilbo appeared to be in possession of the contents of a respectable sized stationery store.
It was late in the afternoon by the time Frodo surfaced, dusty, bruised, ink stained and parched. Bilbo’s tea be buggered, he thought and grabbed up his coat to head down to the village inn. He needed an ale - or two.
He was making his way though the village when he passed Moore’s Stationery Emporium and thought he really should see about stopping Bilbo’s credit. Then again the old hobbit was probably entirely responsible for keeping the establishment in business.
It was while he was contemplating this course of action that the doorbell of said shop tinkled merrily and none other than Bilbo Baggins, the old reprobate himself, stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine escorted by Master Moore’s particularly pretty daughter who handed him a wrapped package.
“Bilbo!” Frodo exclaimed. “What are you doing?”
“Well, hello my boy,” Bilbo stepped across the street. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Nor I you,” Frodo folded his arms across his chest. “Don’t we have enough writing supplies to open our own shop back at Bag End?”
“There’s more to life than writing supplies,” Bilbo had a rascally twinkle in his eyes, “I may be ancient but I can still appreciate a pair of pretty eyes and a shapely ankle.”
“Bilbo,” Frodo warned. “As you value your life or your reason, please keep away from the Moore’s Stationery Store.”
End