We followed the smell of sausages, and as we waited for the vendor to dispense three plump and juicy servings there came to my ears the unmistakable sound of a familiar lilting voice and the melodious strains of a harp. I excused myself from my companions and walked around the bole of a huge oak tree that sheltered the food cart. There, sitting with her back against the tree, complacently plucking her harp was Sparrow Singswell.

The lovely songstress was humming softly to herself as she tuned her instrument and at first she didn’t see me. Not wanting to disturb her, I was about to turn away when she glanced up.

"Master Frodo!" she said with a smile. "How are you this fine day?" she asked, as she continued to tune her harp.

"I am well, thank you. And yourself?"

"I’m enjoying the festivities."

"Are you playing today?"

"Not until after the races. This crowd is far too excited to focus on anything that is not of equine nature," she joked with a smile as she tuned the last note and gave the harp a stroke to admire her work. She put her harp aside and extended her hand so that I could help her up.

"Why, thank you, Frodo," she said, brushing off her skirt. "I’ve heard a rumor that you will be entering the race."

I nodded. "You heard correctly."

"Are you hoping to impress certain someones...?" she asked with a coy grin.

"I like a challenge." I answered evasively. I blushed under her intently knowing gaze.

"I do not envy your position, Frodo. But whatever comes to pass, I hope you do well today. I shall root for you. You are one of my star pupils after all."

Her remark reminded me of something. "How long will you be in town? I am in dire need of another lesson or two."

"I think I could make time for the Master of Bag End."

"We should schedule something. I want to make sure that when you come over I have tea and scones prepared. I know of your fondness for clotted cream," I added with a smile.

"Ever the Gentlehobbit," she said, innocently picking a leaf out of my hair.

We heard the sound of someone clearing her throat. We turned to see Bennie glaring in our direction.

"Good day, Miss Baggins," Sparrow said with charm.

"Hello Sparrow." Bennie replied coldly.

Sam came around the corner juggling the sausages. "Miss Bennie! Did you find ‘im?" he asked, not realizing I was there, I suppose.

Bennie took one of the sausages from Sam before she replied, "Yes, it seems that I have, along with your cousin, I do believe."

"Don’t let me detain you. I’d hate for your meal to get cold." Sparrow said tactfully.

"Perhaps you would care to join us?" I inquired.

After only the briefest of hesitations, she said, "Sadly, I have already eaten, and, I’m afraid, I have other matters to attend to. But thank you all the same."

"That’s a shame," Sam said. "But you are comin’ to dinner tonight aren't you, Sparrow?"

"I received your Father’s invitation and I am happy to say that I will be in attendance. Besides, I’m sure we have all sorts of cousinly gossip to catch up on. By the by, have you written anything lately?"

"No poems," he said, blushing.

"He’s been working on a gardening book." I chimed in.

"Sam, that’s wonderful!" she said, excitedly.

"It is," interrupted Bennie. "And I look forward to reading it, myself. But our food really is getting cold."

"I really must be going," Sparrow said as she picked up her harp to leave. "but good luck in the races to all of you."

"We sit have to set up a time for my lesson," I reminded her.

"You can stop tonight, Mr. Frodo," Sam said handing me a sausage. You’re welcome, too."

"I might just do that then."

"Then, I shall see you tonight!" Sparrow said, as she turned on her heels and disappeared into the crowd with her long hair trailing behind her.

I was aggrieved that Sparrow could not join us, and I more than suspected it was because of Bennie’s demeanor towards the songstress. "Really, Bennie," I chided. "There was no reason for the way you treated her! I was merely asking Sparrow if she and I could meet for another music lesson."

Bennie said nothing as she glanced to see which way Sparrow was headed, then, made sure we were walking in the opposite direction. Sam followed close behind.

I knew from experience that Bennie had no desire to enter the tea tent –where female hobbits had congregated to sit and to chat with each other (while, no doubt, awaiting their gentlehobbits return from a round at the Green Dragon’s tent). In fact, we were just about to change course to avoid it altogether when we heard a familiar voice call out.

"Verbena Baggins, come here this instant and help your Mother at once!"

It was definitely Bennie’s mother, for as soon as Bennie heard that voice, she rolled her eyes, and gritted her teeth before turning to face her Mother with a smile. All the while making sure I wouldn’t let go of her arm and escape into the crowd.

"Hello, Mother," she said with a sugary smile. "I see you’ve found the tea tent. I trust you find the tea to your liking?"

Lavender gave an slightly approving smile to her daughter and me before she pointed off to the side of the tent. "Your Father," she said somewhat annoyed, "found himself a drinking companion while at the Green Dragon. I need your assistance."

"Mother, really!" Bennie said. "I have to make sure everything is set and ready for the race. Father is quite capable of taking care of himself!"

She started to walk away, dragging me along with her.

Lavender stomped her foot. "Don’t you walk away from me, young lady! After all we’ve done to help you with this- this- pony race, and you leave ME to deal with YOUR Father?"

As Bennie and her Mother argued, Sam’s curiosity got the better of him at this point, and he went over to peek around the corner. Then he quickly trotted over to where we stood.

"Mister Frodo, you need to see this!" He grabbed me by the arm of my coat and before Bennie could say a thing, whisked me over to see what lay beyond.

‘Lay’ seemed to sum up the sight before me. There, sitting on the ground -- their backs propped against each other -- were Bodo and his drinking companion, Fastred Brandybuck. They were singing Bilbo’s drinking song at the top of their lungs, much to the amusement of the gathering crowd.

Even from where we stood I could tell they were very besotted. From the very looks of things, the only way we would move them would be by wheelbarrow.

I looked at Sam, who gave me a look in return. We shrugged our shoulders and walked over to the pair. "Good day, Bodo," I said, gently. "I gather you’ve been sampling in the ale tent?"

Bodo looked up at the sound of my voice. "Frodo lad! (HICCUP) I’ve not had that mush to drink. Why, me and, uhm, Fastred here, were jus’ shaying (HICK!) we n-need to make another toasht. Say, why-why don’ you join ush for a round? For good luck in the race, that is!"

Fastred turned his bleary eyes towards us, but I believe he was too drunk to recognize me or Sam. "Another drink! On the house! Or should I say, on the tent?!!"

With that, he struggled to stand up, causing Bodo to lay on his side upon the ground. I managed to grab Fastred by one arm and Sam, the other, before he fell over. Bennie and another hobbit managed to sit Bodo back up. All the while Lavender was giving her usual lecture to him regarding keeping up appearances.

We managed to have some lads fetch some wheelbarrows, who were instructed to make sure the occupants were resuscitated in plenty of time for the big race.