"Do you want to come along with me and have a look?"
Bilbo waved the letter in his hand, extending the invitation to Garrett.
"The Bagginses are a lovely family. They won't mind if I bring an extra guest. In fact, not only will they not mind, they might even be glad to have more people."
"After all, the more people, the merrier."
"Hmm... the letter even says: If you have friends or relatives who would like to join the banquet, please bring them along."
"In that case, I won't be shy about it," Garrett agreed on the spot.
Luckily, he still had a few kegs of good ale in his inventory, which he could bring as gifts for the family.
"Wonderful! Then I'll go get ready, and we'll head out shortly!"
After saying this to Garrett, Bilbo dove into the house and began gathering his things.
Formal clothes for the occasion, a few small tokens of goodwill, and the blessings he intended to say once he saw them, that was all.
Of course, if one didn't feel like preparing, none of that was necessary. As Bilbo had said, even if you just threw on something casual, brought nothing, and simply went to enjoy the meal, the family would still be delighted to have you.
When he finished packing, he carried a box wrapped in floral cloth and set off with Garrett, walking east along the Shire's little roads.
He led the way, chatting as they went.
"Drogo's wife, Primula Brandybuck's father, Gorbadoc Brandybuck, often hosted feasts at Brandy Hall. Every time, the tables were laden with dishes from all over."
"That old fellow was really a good man. We all called him 'Gorbadoc the Magnificent.' Well, because of his great belly, and also his generous heart."
"I heard that a few years ago he even organized a culinary festival in Bucklebury. Unfortunately, I missed that one."
Garrett asked curiously, "What about this time? Will he be at Brandy Hall?"
"No, he won't. And he never will again."
Bilbo shook his head with regret. "He passed away five years ago."
"That's a shame," Garrett replied from behind.
"Everyone grows old, Garrett."
As soon as he said this, Bilbo suddenly paused, as if struck by a thought.
Then he shook his head again, said nothing more, and simply continued walking ahead.
Hobbiton wasn't far from Bucklebury, just one town and two villages in between, so although they walked at a leisurely pace, they still arrived before the banquet began.
On the way, they stopped for a rest at the Green Dragon Inn in Bywater. Each had a mug of the local brew. One sip left their mouths covered in froth, as though they had sprouted big white beards.
By the afternoon, they crossed the Brandywine Bridge, entered Buckland, and arrived at the banquet grounds.
"Hey, Drogo!"
From a distance, Bilbo called out to a Hobbit who was busy setting dishes on the tables.
"Oh, Bilbo!"
The Hobbit turned around, looking a little clumsy.
It was easy to tell that this fellow also had quite the impressive belly.
Drogo came over cheerfully, wiped his hands, and hugged Bilbo.
It was hard to say whether it was his stomach that bumped Bilbo first, or his hands.
He accepted the gift Bilbo brought.
"Oh, thank you."
After handing over the gift, Bilbo stepped aside and said, "I must introduce you. This is my friend Garrett. I don't know if you've met..."
"The name is familiar..."
As Bilbo spoke, Drogo muttered and lifted his head.
Then he froze.
"Y-you, hello."
He shook Garrett's hand.
"Is it really you? Am I dreaming?"
"If you mean the lord of Wayfort, then yes, that is indeed me."
Garrett bowed slightly and greeted the broad-shouldered Hobbit.
"Garrett, at your service. I brought a few kegs of good ale. May I ask where I should put them?"
"This way, Master Garrett!"
At that, Drogo abandoned the task he was working on, grabbed Bilbo's gift, and led Garrett straight into the house, leaving Bilbo standing there all alone.
Bilbo opened his mouth as if to speak, but when he saw Garrett and Drogo walking away together, he could only turn his head aside helplessly, pout a little, and follow after them.
Honestly, being ditched by his own cousin after just a few words, how was that fair?
"I'll treasure these kegs of ale," said Drogo.
As soon as Garrett set the barrels down, Drogo carried them into the wine cellar and placed them in the most prominent spot, all on their own.
"Ahem." Bilbo coughed twice from the side.
"Oh, of course I haven't forgotten you. Here, have some tea."
"Well, I'll forgive you, since the tea's not half bad."
Bilbo sat down and let go of Drogo's little slip.
Wheat fields and corn stalks swayed gently in the wind, while the windmills in the distant meadows turned slowly.
That day's banquet was especially lively.
When the sun set and the great Star of Eärendil appeared once more in the sky, Drogo's wife, Primula, finally found a moment to step away and relax.
"Frodo's asleep, oh, what a relief. Luckily, my sister was here to help."
"You've worked hard." Without minding the people around, Drogo smiled and gave her a tender embrace.
It was clear that the couple were very much in love.
Perhaps thanks to the Shire's fine cooking, both of them were round and healthy-looking.
In fact, standing next to them, Bilbo looked almost slim.
"You didn't see earlier when Frodo was with me. I must introduce you to the guest of honor at this banquet."
Drogo led his wife over to Garrett.
"Oh...!"
Primula let out a cry and nearly jumped up.
"I can't believe it... it's really you! You're just as tall and strong as the stories say. Oh, and recently I heard people talking about a wall in the North, almost as long as the Shire itself. Is that true? I've always wanted to see it with my own eyes..."
"Yes, of course it's true. I built it with my own hands. But I don't recommend you go there. There are many vicious wargs, and orcs who'll eat both adults and children. You must be very careful of such creatures..."
With just a few words, Garrett dashed the little Hobbit's fragile dream of traveling far away, but he also sparked even more conversation.
As they talked, a crowd slowly gathered around them, mostly women and children.
Before long, Drogo and Bilbo were pushed to the side, left only to watch the group chatter and cheer around Garrett.
The two cousins exchanged a glance, both looking a little helpless.
"He's certainly popular with the children," Bilbo said, sipping his drink.
"That's not quite right."
Drogo corrected him, "Those ladies aren't children."
The children were simply curious about Garrett, naturally drawn in to hear his stories firsthand.
But as children tend to be mischievous, they might act rudely or do something inappropriate. Naturally, their mothers came along to keep an eye on them.
And then the mothers, too, were captivated by the stories, so they stood in a circle with their little ones, listening together.
Well, that settled it.
Seeing the scene, Bilbo suddenly chuckled to himself.
No doubt, after this banquet, Garrett would acquire yet another nickname in the Shire.
"Friend of Women and Children."