It was about the size of a small book, and even the wood itself smelled like Adventure. Bilbo had picked the box-and its contents-up from a trader in Laketown on his way home, who had in turn gotten it from a merchant from the Southlands.
Frodo keep your secrets parrot full#
The box itself was on full display in the study, although today Frodo had it upon his desk, next to the letter he had just received. But he was sworn to silence on the matter, and kept the receipts locked up eleven months out of the year. In truth Frodo had known the secrets of the box as soon as he moved into Bag End, and indeed had helped with all of the cooking and baking from the start. Next year there were some newer items, and strange alterations to the old ones, that better fit the taste of the Hill’s new master. So it was hardly surprising when, during the Yule of that year, the same oddly delicious food and drink were made available to the-numerous by now-locals, travellers, chance passers-by-anyone who had a halfway decent singing voice, a desire for hospitality, and no wassailers of their own to keep them tethered in hole. The box, along with everything else, went to Frodo when Bilbo mysteriously disappeared in 1401. And somehow, through the years, somebody had learned that this particular sort of magic came in a box. Baggins had gotten his hands on some sort of culinary magic which was quite dangerous to him, but perfectly harmless to those who benefitted from it. And so there was only one logical conclusion to be made: during his time beyond the Bounds, Mr. Baggins, but he just gave one of those enigmatic smiles which was now all too often his preferred response to perfectly decent questions. Baggins had for their delectation! Dark, rich cakes with-what was that mysterious ingredient in them? Jewelled shortbread, sweet biscuits with sugar icing, crystallised chestnuts, rich custard tart-only, there was a peculiar taste to it, to all of them, that was wholly marvellous but wholly unfamiliar!Īnd that was to say nothing of the wassail itself, which was practically swimming with new flavour. Then, about two weeks before Yule, the smokes abruptly stopped, and were not seen again until the thirtieth of December-but this time they appeared to be almost normal, not quite like a regular Yuletide’s baking.īut oh!-when the folk of Hobbiton came by a-wassailing, the things Mr.
Baggins had somehow learned the art of summoning elf-shades-but ever since the fellow had had a lock installed on his door no one had been able to come in and investigate. The smokes continued through all hours of the night, until some began to suspect that Mr. How exactly the rumour began, it was hard to say, but the wildest story went that in the months leading to Yule in the year of his return strange smokes began pouring out of Bag End’s chimney, coloured smokes that curled into the shapes of dragons and smelled like the Outlands. Legend at the Hill went that when Bilbo Baggins returned from his journey abroad he brought with him a magical cooking box. Ages of principal characters are given below in real years and Mannish equivalent A fic about nothing, and everything.Īuthor’s Notes: Set in the winter of 1408/9 S.R. Summary: Frodo works to maintain old traditions and create new ones when his relatives prevail upon him to leave Bag End for Yule.
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