Chapter Text
It was the Spring First Planting festival, and Bilbo had gotten special permission to bring Ember along with him because his dragon finally understood good manners and used them very well. Ember was now three, and was about the size of a very large dog. But unlike a dog, Ember had absolutely no problem with having weight on his back, and oftentimes insisted on carting Bilbo around places simply because he could go faster.
They spent the day romping through fields together, Bilbo casting seeds about and Ember dashing off to catch rabbits, gophers, moles and mice by the dozens, his keen hearing able to hear their heartbeats or scratching feet under the ground, and his sense of smell able to scent them from halfway across the field to their very burrows. Ember loved the spring and fall times specifically because of how well he was fed off of the fields. A flock of very bold pheasant had descended on the fields last summer, nearly ravaging the wheat crop, and Ember had not only eaten his fill, but he had caught every last one of the birds and shared them with Bilbo and his family.
Today Ember stuck to eating just the smaller pests and bringing Bilbo every rabbit he caught. By the end of the day Bilbo had a pile of thirty-five coneys to try and haul home after the big parties each field held when their field was done being seeded, in order to thank all of the people who came to help. So the lot of them were stuffed full for Elevensies, Luncheon, and Afternoon Tea. By the time the party for Dinner came around he couldn’t manage more than a few nibbles, a bowl of creamy chicken soup, and some lovely herbed dumplings.
Once the work was done for the day, Bilbo collected the rabbits that he had set to draining, tied them together in pairs and slung them over Ember’s back before beginning to make their way home. On the way they gave two pairs to each of the four field owners they had worked in, six to the Gamgees since they had a large family, and another pair to Widow Hardfoot who lived alone at the very bottom of the hill, and was getting on in years, so making it to market several times a week wasn’t very easy for her these days. She sent him off with three of her famous ‘Spring Fairy’ scones made with floral water and all kinds of flowers, like violets, lavender, roses, chamomile, and tansy, then topped with candied flowers and served with honey butter and a nice dollop of homemade rose petal jelly, which she packed little jars of onto the side of the cloth she wrapped them up in. Widow Hardfoot’s scones were coveted in the Shire, she only ever tended to make them for a wedding gift to a new bride, so Bilbo considered himself most fortunate to get some.
Bilbo sincerely thanked her and then continued on home with Ember and the remaining nineteen coneys. He and his father took care of the rabbits, and then got washed up, while Ember went off for a fire bath, and Belladonna made them all dinner.
Bilbo, his mother, and his father all had one of the special scones each after dinner with a warm cup of dark tea. Ember was curled up by the hearth and Bilbo was leaning against his side, petting the dragon’s head in his lap and listening to the gentle sounds of his father’s voice as he read aloud to them all, while his mother’s knitting needles clicked away quietly on a new pair of socks. Ember rumble purred as Bilbo found just the right spot to scritch, and traced the golden bracelet with the cabochons on it, now actually able to fit as such since Ember had grown so much.
Bilbo eventually dozed off there, wrapped up in all the warmth, comfort, happiness, and love, that a hobbit could ever want or ask for. It had been a very good day.
TBC