Filling up the Corners: A Hobbit’s Day - 1/4
Disclaimer: This story contains adult themes. It is not suitable for minors or the easily offended.
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A day in the life of a very popular young Hobbit woman.
Contains: Weight Gain, BBW, Stuffing
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Filling up the Corners
Part I - Morning
Lavender Fairbairn woke with the sun and a gentle rumbling of her soft stomach. The dawn through her single window was not always sufficient to wake the young Hobbit, but the previous evening had been a quiet one. Having taken a delivery of Cordelia’s mead all the way to Michel Delving, she’d been quite exhausted, contenting herself with a mug of sweet wine, a bit of cheese, and one of her favourite books by the fire.
This day, however, promised to be one with rather more varied activity. Sitting up in her bed, Lavender indulged in a pleasant stretch of the arms and legs before hopping to her feet. She puffed the embers in her stove to enough liveliness to make a cup of tea and a quick breakfast. Three eggs, half a tomato, a few slices of well-buttered bread, and she felt quite ready to face the day.
Lavender stepped out from her cosy thatched cottage in her “working” clothes: a bright yellow blouse under a pair of quilted green overalls. Like all Hobbits, she enjoyed nothing so much as a good meal, as filling and as often as she could find them, and had the well-rounded figure to show for it. Her bosom was particularly robust, to the admiration of many Hobbit-sons and the envy of more than a few Hobbit-daughters. While quite fond of her few dresses, Lavender found a set of dungarees were better suited to days like this one.
After collecting Dolly, her pony, and hitching up her cart, Lavender set out. She inhaled the spring air, letting the sun warm her upturned face as she led Dolly down the road, humming a jaunty tune. Her shapely feet were unshod, of course, their fine, near-translucent hair glinting in the sunlight as she walked. Across the lane from her cottage, the windows of The Dancing Doe were as yet unlit. Lavender smiled with a shake of her nut-brown curls—Oleander would likely be abed for hours yet. A sigh of white smoke drifted from the tavern’s chimney, however, carrying traces of simmering mutton. Doubtless a good stew awaited her at luncheon, or dinner at the latest.
Lavender’s first visit of the day was to Estella, the baker. Her home was a proper Hobbit-hole, but her stone ovens were built around the front garden to manage the heat. Lavender found the baker at a large table under the thatch awning-covered workspace, kneading a fat round of dough.
“Hi-hi!” She called.
Estella looked up from her work with a wide smile. “Venna! I wondered if I might see you today.”
Lavender tied Dolly near a patch of grass and stepped into the shade. “Here I am. Have you got anything that needs delivering?”
The baker gestured at a slate covered in chalky writing. “Oh, there’s a whole list of things there, but first, you must come in and sit.” She slid the ball of dough to one side and covered it with a cloth, dusting her hands on her apron. “Have you had breakfast yet?”
Estella always asked this question, which Lavender found passing strange—what sensible Hobbit ever walked out their door without breakfast? She nodded.
“Well, second breakfast, then.”
She also always said this. Lavender supposed there might come a morning when Estella’s deliveries were so urgent that she hadn’t the time to offer Lavender a spot of second breakfast—when Dolly sprouted wings, perhaps. She followed the baker into her home, where Estella poured her a cup of tea. She bustled about the kitchen, filling the table with small jars and pots. Lastly, she unwrapped a large, still-warm loaf, setting it on the board in front of the curvy young Hobbit.
“Now, you tuck in whilst I get those deliveries bundled and loaded.”
“I can load the cart, or leastwise help you with it.”
Estella tutted, waving a hand. “You’re helping enough just delivering them for me, Venna dear. You stay right there and get some food into you.”
Lavender nodded obediently and cut into the warm bread. The pots and jars arrayed before her held sauces, jams, and mustards from every corner of the Shire. Estella was a collector of every style and variety she could find. Lavender sniffed at a few, evaluating textures and colour. She spooned a generous layer of bright, glistening raspberry jam onto her first slice.
By the time Estella returned to join Lavender at the table, half the loaf was gone. “Your cart’s all loaded up.” She cut herself a slice, eyeing what remained of Lavender’s. “Which mustard is that?”
Lavender pointed at a blue pot with a matching lid.
“Ah, came all the way from Hobbiton, this one did,” Estella said as she spooned the golden-brown mustard, thick with tiny seeds, onto her bread.
“It’s very good,” Lavender agreed. “I wish I could sample them all.”
Estella chuckled. “We’d be here past sundown at such a task.”
“Maybe till sunup tomorrow, though I daresay we wouldn’t run out of bread.” She eyed the collection of sauces regretfully. She could easily have finished the loaf, wiling away half the morning with Estella’s collection, but she had work that wanted doing. She drained her tea and dabbed at her lips with a cloth. “I’d best get to it. Thanks ever so much for breakfast, Estella.”
“Of course, Venna dear. I hope you have a lovely day.”
Lavender untied Dolly and read the names on the slate. Her first delivery was a batch of rolls and fruit pastries for the tea shop.
At Beryl’s tea shop, a few Hobbits sat in pairs at round tables. Like the baker, Beryl greeted her with a broad smile and a gentle touch on the arm.
“Good morning, Venna! What have you brought for me this fine morning?”
“Hello, Beryl! I’ve a lovely bundle of rolls and pastries fresh from Estella’s.”
“Oh, those are fine things, aren’t they? My customers just love them for soaking up a nice warm cuppa.”
Lavender nodded as she piled four cloth-wrapped bundles onto Beryl’s counter.
“Speaking of, you’ll stay for a spot of tea and split one with me, won’t you? You haven’t got to rush off again quite yet?”
The walk from the baker’s to the tea shop had been just shy of a mile. Not nearly enough for breakfast, much less second breakfast, to digest, but she reckoned some of her morning nibbles had settled, leaving a touch of empty space.
“That would be lovely,” she said, taking the proffered seat.
Beryl halved one of the large rolls, heavy with cinnamon and dripping with white icing, onto two small plates. She added a plate of biscuits and a bowl of berries with chunks of fruit to the small table as well. Finally, she poured Lavender a cup of rich brown tea whose aroma carried hints of her namesake.
The two Hobbits caught up on the local gossip in the gaps between Beryl’s trips round the shop to serve her other customers. By the time Lavender felt she’d dealt with that empty space, the treats had all been eaten and the tea drunk.
“Won’t you have any more?” Beryl asked.
Lavender collected a few crumbs with the pad of her finger and dropped them onto her empty plate. “I should get a move on, I’m afraid. Lots to deliver today, yet. Iolo will be waiting on his sandwich bread.”
Beryl wrapped her in a warm hug, squeezing their bellies together until Lavender’s bosom welled upward. “Don’t you be a stranger now. And don’t let that butcher give you any of his lip, neither.”
Lavender, who’d never found “that butcher” to be anything but a perfect gentle-Hobbit, smiled at the tea shop owner. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The butcher’s shop was only a few houses down from the tea house, and the smoky aromas of roasting meat had Lavender’s mouth watering before she was halfway there.
“Why, if it isn’t Miss Lavender!” Iolo boomed.
The butcher was a stout Hobbit, nearly three foot ten, with arms muscled from swinging his cleaver. Lavender could see the appeal he held for Beryl, even if he wasn’t quite to her tastes. And speaking of tastes, Iolo took the bundle of bread from her and slid a plate across the counter in its place. “I’ve been experimenting with that mustard you brought me from Bywater. Have a bite of this.”
He offered her a sandwich nearly as big as the plate it sat on. Between the hearty slices was a stack of meats, sliced tomato, white cheese, and enough golden mustard to ooze down over the lot. Lavender took a bite and marvelled at the way the flavours came together: savoury and sweet and spicy in a perfect dance.
“This is excellent, Iolo,” she said, laying the sandwich back on its plate.
“Have it, have it,” he insisted. “I’ll make meself another.”
For half a second, Lavender considered the Iolo-sized sandwich, then decided Beryl’s tea treats hadn’t quite done for her empty spaces.
The butcher worked, slicing meat, bread, and cheese, stacking them together and wrapping them in paper. In the meanwhile, Lavender tucked into the large sandwich until her dungarees weren’t quite so roomy as they’d been that morning. Iolo took her empty plate, replacing it with a basket of paper-wrapped bundles.
“Would you deliver these for me, Lavender? I’ve scribbled the names on.”
“Of course!” She hid a sly smile. “Is there one for Miss Beryl in here?”
The butcher’s ruddy cheeks turned crimson; he’d suddenly taken a keen interest in his toes. He nodded.
“She’s a fine Hobbit, is Beryl,” Lavender said.
Iolo moved his head in what might have been a nod. “’Tis just a few sandwiches for the folk I reckon you’ll be making deliveries for, is all.”
“Of course,” she said, deciding not to press further. With a pat on the arm and a promise to see him again soon, Lavender continued on her way.
When Lavender stepped into the soup shop, its owner was stirring a large pot with each hand as if in a trance.
“Erm, Opal?”
The Hobbit snapped to life. “Ah, Lavender. How lovely to see you.”
Lavender smiled. Opal was an odd one, and no mistake. “I’ve brought you some bread from Estella’s, and Iolo’s sent you a sandwich.
Opal’s eyes brightened. “A sandwich? What kind? Let me see.”
She inspected the package with delight. “Oh yes, this will do very nicely.”
Lavender stacked the bundle of thick-crusted loaves on the counter. “Will do for what?”
With nary another word, Opal unwrapped the sandwich and cut it in half. She ladled a thick red soup into a bowl. To Lavender’s surprise, she proceeded to dip a corner of her sandwich into the soup before biting into it.
“Mmm, just the thing.”
At Lavender’s look of scepticism, Opal slid the bowl and the untouched half of the sandwich across to her. Lavender tore off a bit of the sandwich, which contained several varieties of cheese melted into a toast, and tried Opal’s technique. To her surprise, the tangy tomato soup complemented the savoury richness of the sandwich excellently.
“This is quite good, Opal. Mayhap you and Iolo should combine your efforts.”
She made to slide Opal’s meal back to her, but the other Hobbit stopped her, filling a second bowl. “Help yourself, please.”
“I can’t take half your brunch,” Lavender protested.
“Stuff and nonsense. You’ll need to keep your strength up while you’re galavanting across the Shire.”
Lavender should have insisted, but half of a proper-sized sandwich was nothing after the feast Iolo had given her. Leastways, the combination was too delicious to refuse.