jrt.fellowshipofring-第7节

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onder　that　trouble　came　of　it；　I　say。　But　be　that　as　it　may；　Mr。　Frodo　is　as　nice　a　young　hobbit　as　you　could　wish　to　meet。　Very　much　like　Mr。　Bilbo；　and　in　more　than　looks。　After　all　his　father　was　a　Baggins。　A　decent　respectable　hobbit　was　Mr。　Drogo　Baggins；　there　was　never　much　to　tell　of　him；　till　he　was　drownded。'
　　　'Drownded？'　said　several　voices。　They　had　heard　this　and　other　darker　rumours　before；　of　course；　but　hobbits　have　a　passion　for　family　history；　and　they　were　ready　to　hear　it　again。　'Well；　so　they　say；'　said　the　Gaffer。　'You　see：　Mr。　Drogo；　he　married　poor　Miss　Primula　Brandybuck。　She　was　our　Mr。　Bilbo's　first　cousin　on　the　mother's　side　（her　mother　being　the　youngest　of　the　Old　Took's　daughters）；　and　Mr。　Drogo　was　his　second　cousin。　So　Mr。　Frodo　is　his　first　and　second　cousin；　once　removed　either　way；　as　the　saying　is；　if　you　follow　me。　And　Mr。　Drogo　was　staying　at　Brandy　Hall　with　his　father…in…law；　old　Master　Gorbadoc；　as　he　often　did　after　his　marriage　（him　being　partial　to　his　vittles；　and　old　Gorbadoc　keeping　a　mighty　generous　table）；　and　he　went　out　boating　on　the　Brandywine　River；　and　he　and　his　wife　were　drownded；　and　poor　Mr。　Frodo　only　a　child　and　all。　'
　　　'I've　heard　they　went　on　the　water　after　dinner　in　the　moonlight；'　said　Old　Noakes；　'and　it　was　Drogo's　weight　as　sunk　the　boat。'
　　　'And　I　heard　she　pushed　him　in；　and　he　pulled　her　in　after　him；'　said　Sandyman；　the　Hobbiton　miller。
　　　'You　shouldn't　listen　to　all　you　hear；　Sandyman；'　said　the　Gaffer；　who　did　not　much　like　the　miller。　'There　isn't　no　call　to　go　talking　of　pushing　and　pulling。　Boats　are　quite　tricky　enough　for　those　that　sit　still　without　looking　further　for　the　cause　of　trouble。　Anyway：　there　was　this　Mr。　Frodo　left　an　orphan　and　stranded；　as　you　might　say；　among　those　queer　Bucklanders；　being　brought　up　anyhow　in　Brandy　Hall。　A　regular　warren；　by　all　accounts。　Old　Master　Gorbadoc　never　had　fewer　than　a　couple　of　hundred　relations　in　the　place。　Mr。　Bilbo　never　did　a　kinder　deed　than　when　he　brought　the　lad　back　to　live　among　decent　folk。
　　　'But　I　reckon　it　was　a　nasty　shock　for　those　Sackville…Bagginses。　They　thought　they　were　going　to　get　Bag　End；　that　time　when　he　went　off　and　was　thought　to　be　dead。　And　then　he　es　back　and　orders　them　off；　and　he　goes　on　living　and　living；　and　never　looking　a　day　older；　bless　him！　And　suddenly　he　produces　an　heir；　and　has　all　the　papers　made　out　proper。　The　Sackville…Bagginses　won't　never　see　the　inside　of　Bag　End　now；　or　it　is　to　be　hoped　not。'
　　　'There's　a　tidy　bit　of　money　tucked　away　up　there；　I　hear　tell；'　said　a　stranger；　a　visitor　on　business　from　Michel　Delving　in　the　Westfarthing。　'All　the　top　of　your　hill　is　full　of　tunnels　packed　with　chests　of　gold　and　silver；　and　jools；　by　what　I've　heard。　'
　　　'Then　you've　heard　more　than　I　can　speak　to；'　answered　the　Gaffer。　I　know　nothing　about　jools。　Mr。　Bilbo　is　free　with　his　money；　and　there　seems　no　lack　of　it；　but　I　know　of　no　tunnel…making。　I　saw　Mr。　Bilbo　when　he　came　back；　a　matter　of　sixty　years　ago；　when　I　was　a　lad。　I'd　not　long　e　prentice　to　old　Holman　（him　being　my　dad's　cousin）；　but　he　had　me　up　at　Bag　End　helping　him　to　keep　folks　from　trampling　and　trapessing　all　over　the　garden　while　the　sale　was　on。　And　in　the　middle　of　it　all　Mr。　Bilbo　es　up　the　Hill　with　a　pony　and　some　mighty　big　bags　and　a　couple　of　chests。　I　don't　doubt　they　were　mostly　full　of　treasure　he　had　picked　up　in　foreign　parts；　where　there　be　mountains　of　gold；　they　say；　but　there　wasn't　enough　to　fill　tunnels。　But　my　lad　Sam　will　know　more　about　that。　He's　in　and　out　of　Bag　End。　Crazy　about　stories　of　the　old　days　he　is；　and　he　listens　to　all　Mr。　Bilbo's　tales。　Mr。　Bilbo　has　learned　him　his　letters　…　meaning　no　harm；　mark　you；　and　I　hope　no　harm　will　e　of　it。
　　　'Elves　and　Dragons'　I　says　to　him。　'Cabbages　and　potatoes　are　better　for　me　and　you。　Don't　go　getting　mixed　up　in　the　business　of　your　betters；　or　you'll　land　in　trouble　too　big　for　you；'　I　says　to　him。　And　I　might　say　it　to　others；'　he　added　with　a　look　at　the　stranger　and　the　miller。
　　　But　the　Gaffer　did　not　convince　his　audience。　The　legend　of　Bilbo's　wealth　was　now　too　firmly　fixed　in　the　minds　of　the　younger　generation　of　hobbits。
　　　'Ah；　but　he　has　likely　enough　been　adding　to　what　he　brought　at　first；'　argued　the　miller；　voicing　mon　opinion。　'He's　often　away　from　home。　And　look　at　the　outlandish　folk　that　visit　him：　dwarves　ing　at　night；　and　that　old　wandering　conjuror；　Gandalf；　and　all。　You　can　say　what　you　like；　Gaffer；　but　Bag　End's　a　queer　place；　and　its　folk　are　queerer。'
　　　'And　you　can　say　what　you　like；　about　what　you　know　no　more　of　than　you　do　of　boating；　Mr。　Sandyman；'　retorted　the　Gaffer；　disliking　the　miller　even　more　than　usual。　If　that's　being　queer；　then　we　could　do　with　a　bit　more　queerness　in　these　parts。　There's　some　not　far　away　that　wouldn't　offer　a　pint　of　beer　to　a　friend；　if　they　lived　in　a　hole　with　golden　walls。　But　they　do　things　proper　at　Bag　End。　Our　Sam　says　that　everyone's　going　to　be　invited　to　the　party；　and　there's　going　to　be　presents；　mark　you；　presents　for　all　…　this　very　month　as　is。'
　　　That　very　month　was　September；　and　as　fine　as　you　could　ask。　A　day　or　two　later　a　rumour　（probably　started　by　the　knowledgeable　Sam）　was　spread　about　that　there　were　going　to　be　fireworks　…　fireworks；　what　is　more；　such　as　had　not　been　seen　in　the　Shire　for　nigh　on　a　century；　not　indeed　since　the　Old　Took　died。
　　　Days　passed　and　The　Day　drew　nearer。　An　odd…looking　waggon　laden　with　odd…looking　packages　rolled　into　Hobbiton　one　evening　and　toiled　up　the　Hill　to　Bag　End。　The　startled　hobbits　peered　out　of　lamplit　doors　to　gape　at　it。　It　was　driven　by　outlandish　folk；　singing　strange　songs：　dwarves　with　long　beards　and　deep　hoods。　A　few　of　them　remained　at　Bag　End。　At　the　end　of　the　second　week　in　September　a　cart　came　in　through　Bywater　from　the　direction　of　the　Brandywine　Bridge　in　broad　daylight。　An　old　man　was　driving　it　all　alone。　He　wore　a　tall　pointed　blue　hat；　a　long　grey　cloak；　and　a　silver　scarf。　He　had　a　long　white　beard　and　bushy　eyebrows　that　stuck　out　beyond　the　brim　of　his　hat。　Small　hobbit…children　ran　after　the　cart　all　through　Hobbiton　and　right　up　the　hill。　It　had　a　cargo　of　fireworks；　as　they　rightly　guessed。　At　Bilbo's　front　door　the　old　man　began　to　unload：　there　were　great　bundles　of　fireworks　of　all　sorts　and　shapes；　each　labelled　with　a　large　red　G　　and　the　elf…rune；　。
　　　That　was　Gandalf's　mark；　of　course；　and　the　old　man　was　Gandalf　the　Wizard；　whose　fame　in　the　Shire　was　due　mainly　to　his　skill　with　fires；　smokes；　and　lights。　His　real　business　was　far　more　difficult　and　dangerous；　but　the　Shire…folk　knew　nothing　about　it。　To　them　he　was　just　one　of　the　'attractions'　at　the　Party。　Hence　the　excitement　of　the　hobbit…children。　'G　for　Grand！'　they　shouted；　and　the　old　man　smiled。　They　knew　him　by　sight；　though　he　only　appeared　in　Hobbiton　occasionally　and　never　stopped　long；　but　neither　they　nor　any　but　the　oldest　of　their　elders　had　seen　one　of　his　firework　displays　…　they　now　belonged　to　the　legendary　past。
　　　When　the　old　man；　helped　by　Bilbo　and　some　dwarves；　had　finished　unloading。　Bilbo　gave　a　few　pennies　away；　but　not　a　single　squib　or　cracker　was　forthing；　to　the　disappointment　of　the　onlookers。
　　　'Run　away　now！'　said　Gandalf。　'You　will　get　plenty　when　the　time　es。'　Then　he　disappeared　inside　with　Bilbo；　and　the　door　was　shut。　The　young　hobbits　stared　at　the　door　in　vain　for　a　while；　and　then　made　off；　feeling　that　the　day　of　the　party　would　never　e。
　　　Inside　Bag　End；　Bilbo　and　Gandalf　were　sitting　at　the　open　window　of　a　small　room　looking　out　west　on　to　the　garden。　The　late　afternoon　was　bright　and　peaceful。　The　flowers　glowed　red　and　golden：　snap…dragons　and　sun…flowers；　and　nasturtiums　trailing　all　over　the　turf　walls　and　peeping　in　at　the　round　windows。
　　　'How　bright　your　garden　looks！'　said　Gandalf。
　　　'Yes；'　said　Bilbo。　I　am　very　fond　indeed　of　it；　and　of　all　the　dear　old　Shire；　but　I　think　I　need　a　holiday。'
　　　'You　mean　to　go　on　with　your　plan　then？'
　　　'I　do。　I　made　up　my　mind　months　ago；　and　I　haven't　changed　it。'
　　　'Very　well。　It　is　no　good　saying　any　more。　Stick　to　your　plan　…　your　whole　plan；　mind　…　and　I　hope　it　will　turn　out　for　the　best；　for　you；　and　for　all　of　us。'
　　　'I　hope　so。　Anyway　I　mean　to　enjoy　myself　on　Thursday；　and　have　my　little　joke。'
　　　'Who　will　laugh；　I　wonder？'　said　Gandalf；　shaking　his　head。
　　　'We　shall　see；'　said　Bilbo。
　　　The　next　day　more　carts　rolled　up　the　Hill；　and　still　more　carts。　There　might　have　been　some　grumbling　about　'dealing　locally'；　but　that　very　week　orders　began　to　pour　out　of　Bag　End　for　every　kind　of　provision；　modity；　or　luxury　that　could　be　obtained　in　Hobbiton　or　Bywater　or　anywhere　in　the　neighbourhood。　People　became　enthusiastic；　and　they　began　to　tick　off　the　days　on　the　calendar；　and　they　watched　eagerly　for　the　postman；　hoping　for　invitations。
　　　Before　long　the　invitations　began　pouring　out；　and　the　Hobbiton　post…office　was　blocked；　and　the　Bywater　post…office　was　snowed　under；　and　voluntary　assistant　postmen　were　called　for。　There　was　a　constant　stream　of　them　going　up　the　Hill；　carrying　hundreds　of　polite　variations　on　Thank　you；　I　shall　certainly　e。