The She-Dragon of the Shire

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins is the bane of her cousin Bilbo's life. Will anyone ever be able to tame her?

In the village of Harbottle lived a large number of short, stocky, curly-haired Hobbits. These people liked nothing better than a decent meal and the company of merry friends in front of a roaring fire. The next best thing to that was a good reputation, which, once lost, was hard to restore.

One day there was a funeral. The wheelwright had left behind a large family and a good few unpaid bills. Hobbit funerals were usually held in the homes of the deceased, and the head of the household officiated. People were not invited to funerals, they just went, usually with food or gifts to the family to comfort them in their bereavement.

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins entered the house. Her husband Otho, her son Lotho and their bulldog Bingo trailed unwillingly behind her. This fellow had owed them nothing, so what was the point in going? In front of them a pine coffin lay on a hastily-borrowed old coffee table, surrounded by grieving relatives. Hildegrim Brown had lived a good, long life, and his family and friends had gathered to bid the old Hobbit a fond farewell.

"A pine coffin?" Lobelia sneered. "And I thought they actually liked him! Look, you can see all the knots. They've neither painted nor polished it. And look at what they've sat it on." She bent down and peered at it. "It's an old coffee table. Dear me, they could have done better than that." Although she was speaking quietly (for her), many people in the room heard what she said and were deeply offended by it. Lobelia did not notice this. While she sometimes defended the insensitive remarks she made as unfortunate misunderstandings, she never would admit she was wrong about anything, and never apologised.

Lobelia snatched a drink from a tray that was being passed around and wandered over to the coffin. She had brought a bottle of apple cider from one of Otho's farms and given it to Prisca Brown, daughter of the deceased, when she came in.

Hildegrim looked peaceful, as though he was asleep. He was dressed in his best clothes and his hands were folded on his chest. Lobelia looked at him. Her beady eyes missed nothing. She stepped away from it and spoke to her husband. "They didn't even polish the buttons on his waistcoat," she whispered loudly, "surely even they could have afforded some elbow-grease!" She chuckled at her own joke. A space was growing between herself and everybody else, apart from Otho. She pretended not to notice. "They certainly can't afford decent drinks," she added, and snatched a piece of cake from another tray that was being passed around. "This apple cider has been watered down."

Bilbo Baggins arrived just then. He gave his cloak and walking stick to his friend Polo Bolger, who was an usher, and made his way over to the coffin. "Alas, Hildegrim," he said respectfully to the dearly departed, "you will be sadly missed. Still, he had a good long run, you must agree." He gently reached out and put a hand on Mistress Primrose Brown's shoulder. "If there's anything at all I can do for you, please let me know. I loved him when he was alive, and now that he's gone, let me show that love to you."

She smiled gratefully at him through her tears.

Bilbo produced a box. "I kept meaning to give this to him, it's just a little keepsake box," he confided, "it nearly ended up in a mathom house, to be honest. Anyway, it's got a few odds and ends in there, which I'm sure you'll find a use for."

Lobelia saw Bilbo and strode over to him. "Ah, Bilbo," she said with a fake smile plastered to her chubby face, "how wonderful to see you. Poor dear, you must get so lonely, rattling around in that hole by yourself. Your dear mother Belladonna would weep to see it. No signs of any romantic interest yet, I presume? That place needs a woman's touch, I've always thought. Doesn't it, Otho?"

Otho nodded.

Lotho had seized a passing tray of sausage rolls and sat in a corner on his bottom devouring the lot as Bingo the bulldog looked on mournfully.

"It's not for sale, Lobelia," Bilbo told her firmly, "I've told you that a thousand times."

"But Bilbo, dear," she leered, "you are all alone in there. Would you not prefer to take lodgings up here in Harbottle? Something more suitable for a bachelor, perhaps?" She disapproved of most things, the worst of which was people who had things she wanted. Bag End, for example.

"What, your coal shed?" Bilbo snapped. "This is neither the time nor the place for such discussions. Let's talk about it at another time, eh?"

He moved away from her, irritated.

Annoyed at the slight, Lobelia pursued him, and he went outside. The more he tried to get away, the more determined she was to get hold of him. She refused to be ignored.

***

Otho remained in the house, like a spider in its web. When Bilbo came back in, he pounced. "About Bag End..." he began.

"Not now, Otho," Bilbo sighed. 

Lobelia barged in. "I suppose you thought that was very clever, Bilbo," she snarled.

"As a matter of fact, I did,” he replied with a grin.

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