The Annual Hobbiton Conker Competition

Hobbiton; Autumn 1301 (S.R.)

1: Nerves

Bilbo Baggins couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, trying to get comfortable. His mind was racing and he couldn't get his eyes to stay shut for more than a few seconds. Giving up, he rolled out of bed and padded softly to the kitchen.

His father was there with his pipe, sitting at the dining table, blowing smoke rings. The fire crackled in the hearth. As Bilbo entered, Bungo Baggins sat up.

'What's up, lad? Shouldn't you be sleeping?'

'I can't,' Bilbo replied miserably. 'I can't stop thinking about tomorrow.'

His father gave a low chuckle, and stretched his arms out to Bilbo, who ran eagerly into their enveloping warmth. He snuggled closer to his father, who held him tightly for a moment, before drawing back to look at him.

'Bilbo Baggins,' he said solemnly, 'it's the rest of Hobbiton as should be worried, not you! You're ready for this. I've prepared you as best I can, and it will be enough. Believe in yourself, Bilbo lad! You'll do us mighty proud tomorrow, whatever happens.'

Bilbo looked into his father's eyes, and was comforted. His father scooped him up into a hug and carried him gently back to his room. He laid him down on the bed and tucked him in, and pressed a gentle kiss to Bilbo's forehead. Bilbo's eyes felt heavy all of a sudden, and he heard the soft click of the door as his father drew it shut. Sleep overcame him then, his worry all but gone.

He'd make his mother and father proud…

The next day dawned bright and clear. Bilbo awoke early, and dressed himself in his most comfortable breeches and his leaf green waistcoat, a smaller version of one his father owned. It was the same colour as the front door. Bilbo liked it when he and his dad wore the same clothes – everyone commented on how similar they were; he was his dad in miniature, they said.

When he was dressed and his hobbit-curls had been brushed, he made his way to the kitchen. His mother and father were both up already, sorting breakfast. Sure enough, Bungo was wearing his green waist coat too. He smiled at his son as he entered. Bilbo gave first his mother a hug as she paused from cooking, then his father.

'Good morning, Bilbo,' he said cheerfully, returning the hug. 'Are you feeling alright today, lad?'

Bilbo grinned in response. 'I feel great, Dad,' he replied, and sat down in his chair, opposite his parents.

Belladonna put a plate down in front of him, and kissed his head.

'Eat up, darling; you'll need your strength for today.'

Bilbo didn't need telling twice. He readily tucked into the plate of breakfast before him, and even asked for seconds.

When everyone had finished, the plates were cleared and they made ready to leave.

Bilbo rushed to his room and took out his box. There, gleaming in amongst the layers of cloth, lay two great big brown conkers. Carefully he picked them up and slid them into a pouch at his waist. He hastened to join his parents, who were ready by the door.

Bilbo ran ahead of his parents as Bungo and Belladonna strolled down the path arm in arm down towards the Party Field, to watch and take part in this year's Hobbiton Conker Competition.

2: The Competition

Bilbo joined the throng of hobbit children who were gathered by the tree. So these were to be his opponents… He looked at them all, sizing them up. His stomach felt unpleasantly knotted; perhaps he shouldn't have had second helpings at breakfast…

He caught sight of his parents as they entered the field. They waved and smiled, and he relaxed. He was going to make them proud.

The Mayor was acting as judge this year, along with two other hobbits he didn't know. The mayor gathered all participants in the competition to him and explained the rules. All their conkers must be new and previously unused; they would be split into groups and the winner of each group would play against the other winners; once their conker was cracked they were out. Bilbo nodded along, and his brow was puckered into a frown. He took conkers very seriously.

He was split into a group and took on his first opponent. He was a hobbit lad not much bigger than Bilbo, with earthy brown curls. He was scowling as Bilbo stood opposite him, but Bilbo would not let himself be cowed. He could see his parents watching from the edge of the field, and he forced himself to focus on this adversary.

Bilbo was swinging first. The other lad held up his conker, and Bilbo took aim. Carefully, carefully, he swung and… it hit the lad's conker straight on and smashed it. Bilbo's face broke out into a grin. Then he quickly schooled his expression; he still had many more matches to play.

Eventually there was a victor from each of the various pairs, so now there were approximately ten other competitors. Bilbo's stomach contracted again; the sun was shining brightly now and he was starting to feel very warm in his jacket.

He was paired off with someone else, and the new round began. This time his opponent was a girl, with her curls tied in two bunches either side of her head. She wasn't scowling but she had an intense look of concentration on her face as she studied Bilbo, which he found rather unnerving. They took their places, and he swallowed nervously. He heard his mother cheering him on, and he squared his shoulders.

It was the lass' turn to swing first, so he stood, his back straight and his conker hanging on its string. The lass aimed, her tongue poking out as she concentrated. As she swung her arm back, Bilbo scrunched his eyes up. He heard the whoosh as the conker swung through the air, then a grunt of frustration. He opened his eyes to find both conkers unharmed. That meant it was his swing. As the girl held up her conker, Bilbo took precise aim and swung. He shut his eyes then, as he heard the crack as the conker broke – he opened his eyes. Her conker broke. His was swinging on its string form the force of the contact but was otherwise unharmed. His stomach gave a little leap – perhaps he could actually win! His heart was in his mouth as the referee led him over to his final opponent.

This was it. This was the deciding round. He gasped as he looked at this final adversary. He was about twice Bilbo's height, for a start, and looked to be at least fifteen. Bilbo was only eleven. His stomach was in knots and he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead.

He held his conker in the palm of his hand. It was still strong, and there was no sign of cracking. He reckoned it would last for this final round –at least, he hoped it would…

He ignored his opponent and instead focused on the conker swinging from the larger hobbit's string. It looked to have just a little split, a slight weakness at the base. If Bilbo went first, he could aim for that, and win…

Unfortunately for Bilbo, it was the other lad's turn to go first. Cursing his luck, Bilbo stood straight and tall as he held out his conker. The crowd had gone quiet as everyone watched this final round. The only sound was that of the birds twittering away in the trees.

Bilbo stared at his opponent, who held his gaze, gave a mean little smile and swung for all he was worth.

Bilbo stood stock still as the conker cut through the air, met his own… and flinched as something rapped across his knuckles. He looked down… and saw his conker still on the string, swaying in the breeze. His opponent's, on the other hand, was in pieces on the ground. The large lad was staring in shock and confusion, holding his empty string aloft. He scowled at Bilbo, and stormed off. That meant… That meant he'd won! Bilbo Baggins had won this year's Hobbiton Conker Competition!

3: The winner

Bilbo's parents ran forward and enveloped him in a huge hug, his mother wiping tears from her eyes and his father with a great grin on his face.

'Didn't I tell you, lad? Didn't I tell you that you could do it?'

When his mother released him, Bilbo was led to the mayor. He revelled in the applause, the shouts, as his name was called and he turned onto the apple crate that was a podium. The mayor placed a medal round his neck – and Bilbo laughed. His medal was an actual conker, on a decorative ribbon!

Bilbo couldn't stop himself smiling; he'd made his mum and dad proud, and now it was time for the best part of the competition… The celebration.

The whole of Hobbiton was moving towards the great white tent which had been erected at the far end of the Party Field. Inside, Bilbo knew, were waiting barrels of cool ale for the adult hobbits and jugs of sharp, refreshing lemonade for the children. Best of all though, were the bowls and bowls piled high with crimson, jewel-like strawberries, and pitchers of sweet, fresh cream just wating to be poured over them. Bilbo's favourite.

His stomach rumbled then; all the winning had made him hungry.

Bilbo entered the tent with his parents, eagerly awaiting his (first) bowl of strawberries and cream. Immediately the villagers set to with gusto – ale was poured, strawberries devoured, and everyone had a good time – even more so than they had during the actual competition. Bilbo ate many bowls of strawberries, by way of celebrating his victory. In fact he ate more strawberries and cream than he had ever eaten in his life, until his mother told him to stop, saying he'd be sick if he carried on. That didn't stop Bilbo from occasionally sneaking one from her bowl, though.

Gradually the afternoon wore on and as it began to get dark, someone lit lamps on the Party Tree and inside the tent. Bilbo loved it when the Tree was lit up; it seemed unearthly and mysterious. Like something Elvish… not that he'd admit that to anyone else, except perhaps his mother. Not since last month, when he'd told his younger friend Herugar Boffin that he wanted to visit elves, someday, and Herugar had burst into tears and run home.

Bilbo sighed. That was why he loved his Took cousins so much. They were exciting and often when he visited they would go on long walks and pretend they were having an adventure… Bilbo felt himself becoming sleepy, and he leant against his mother. She pulled him onto her lap and held him close, stroking his hair. He fell asleep thinking of elves and forests and adventures.

Bilbo woke again in Bag End, as his mother was getting him ready for bed. She smiled when she saw he was awake.

'Well done today, Bilbo lad,' she said softly, and kissed his nose.

Bilbo sighed and said sleepily, 'I wanted to make you and dad proud.'

His mother smiled.

'We're more proud of you than we can say, Bilbo. But guess what?'

'What?' Bilbo asked.

'We would still be proud of you even if you'd lost in the first round,' his dad said from the open doorway. He walked in and knelt next to Bilbo, and wrapped an arm around his wife.

'Bilbo Baggins, we love you so much. Never forget that, lad.'

Bilbo nodded and settled down further into the pillows. He felt his mother kiss his cheek and his father ruffle his hair, and heard the soft snick of the door closing. Bilbo fell asleep again, content and happy. He dreamt of strawberries and conkers that night.

A/N: A very light and fluffy piece. I hope you enjoyed it! Please Review :)