February 30
Sam spotted the rider approaching, and waved happily. As Aragorn and Arthad came abreast of the tree under which Sam waited -- the large, old tree standing alone in the field between Bagshot Row and Bag End -- Sam put a finger to his lips, motioning that the Ranger should be quiet. He pointed up into the tree’s branches. Bringing his horse to a halt next to the hobbit child, Aragorn smiled and reached down. With a huge grin, Sam took the large hand and found himself being pulled up, up, until he was seated in front of the Ranger.
“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Estel,” Sam whispered.
“And it is good to see you, Sam,” Aragorn replied. “Should we wake him?”
Frodo lay fast asleep, lying in one of the tree’s somewhat hollowed-out branches. A book lay on his chest, and one arm dangled limply from the branch. From where Sam now sat, Frodo lay at eye level, just a foot away.
“Mr. Frodo hasn’t been getting much sleep,” Sam said quietly. “But I expect he’ll tell you all about it.” He smiled up at the Ranger. “He’s been waitin’ for you, sir, so it’s all right to wake him up, if you like.”
Aragorn nudged Arthad forward, until the horse’s great head was just inches away from Frodo’s face. The horse nudged the tween with his nose, snuffling and lipping the lad’s hair. Frodo’s eyes flew open, and he yelped with surprise at the large, horsey face so close to him.
“You have accused me of always arriving when you’re asleep, Frodo,” Aragorn said in a stern voice. “However, you seem to leave me little choice.”
With a joyous laugh, Frodo sat up. Aragorn grinned and pulled Frodo into his arms for a hug, then dismounted and lifted both boys down to the ground.
“Estel,” Frodo said happily, “you always show up at the most interesting times. You’re not the only visitor at Bag End.”
“Whatever have you adopted this time?” Aragorn asked.
“Do you remember, when we were ill, and I told you about my new cousin, Peregrin? The one who’s to be Thain someday?”
”Ah, yes,” Aragorn said quietly. “You said that the Thain looks after the Shire, ‘until the King comes back’.”
Frodo nodded. “Peregrin, or we call him Pippin, is staying with us for a few days.” He smiled up at the Ranger. “You’ll like him. He’s very friendly, and curious about everything. And if you thought Scamp was tiny, wait until you see Pip.”
“`Pip’ sounds harmless enough,” the Ranger smiled.
“Don’t believe it for a second,” Frodo sighed dramatically. “He just adores Scamp, and tries to lure her into mischief. It’s always the little ones who cause the most trouble.”
“Just what I was telling Gandalf the last time I saw him,” Aragorn said casually. “It’s always the little ones...”
“Are we back to that again?” Frodo asked in mock exasperation. “I’ll have you know that I’m considered rather tall for my age.”
Aragorn grinned. “I do believe that you have both grown since last I saw you.”
Both boys smiled proudly. Frodo had finally surpassed Bilbo in height, and Sam was ‘growin’ like a weed,’ as his father would say.
Aragorn unpacked a few things from Arthad’s saddle bags, and removed the horse’s saddle and bridle. Freed of his burdens, Arthad began to graze enthusiastically upon the thick clover growing around the tree.
“It’s all right, sir,” Sam hastened to explain as Aragorn looked concerned. “We planted ’em for Ollie. It’s been so warm, they’re already bloomin’.”
“You did that?” Aragorn’s heart was warmed, as always, by the generosity and friendship of the young hobbits. “Thank you.”
“Sam did it,” Frodo said truthfully. “I believe my only contribution was to keep him company while he worked out here.”
The three friends sat down in the soft grass to talk.
“Frodo,” Aragorn asked, “Sam told me that you haven’t been getting much sleep. Are you feeling well?”
“Yes,” Frodo assured him. “It’s just Pippin. Well, Scamp, really. Actually, it’s both of them. Pip fell instantly in love with Scamp, and I didn’t see any harm in letting him sleep in my bed with us.” He shook his head. “That lasted one night. Pip is such a squirmy sleeper, I kept waking up to little arms or legs thrashing about. Of course, he slept like a... like a contented Took. So last night,” he continued, “Bilbo and I set up a little bed next to mine so he could be near Scamp, but not disturb me.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Aragorn commented.
“It turns out that Scamp’s appointed herself Pippin’s guardian,” Frodo sighed. “Every time that child sighed or whimpered or even giggled in his sleep, Scamp woke up, jumped over to his bed to check on him, then jumped back to mine and fell instantly back to sleep.” He yawned.
“It’s a problem to be sure, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said seriously.
“Scamp’s very protective around Pippin,” Frodo continued. “Pip’s so small, I think Scamp believes that we’ve brought another puppy home.”
“That may very well be true,” Aragorn said thoughtfully. “Dogs assign a hierarchy to their ‘pack’, and if you treat Pippin with gentle care, Scamp just might consider him a ‘pup’ that needs looking after.” He saw Sam’s puzzled look. “Hierarchy means an order of ranking, Sam,” the Ranger explained.
“I understand,” Sam nodded. “It’s like in a family, where there’s parents at the top and babies at the bottom.”
“That’s right,” Aragorn said approvingly.
“I wonder what Pip will think of you,” Frodo mused, eyeing the Ranger.
“I’ll try not to frighten the child, Frodo. He might be shy around someone so tall.”
Sam and Frodo exchanged amused looks, then both boys started laughing.
“Master Pippin’s smart as a whip,” Sam grinned, “and a joy to be around -- but I don’t think anyone would ever call him ‘shy’. Do you, Mr. Frodo?”
“Never,” Frodo declared. “Pip embraces everything as an adventure. He hasn’t shown the least trace of being homesick, and he never gets bored. Why, I remember on his last birthday, when he had finally learned to walk, and he got into the...” Frodo suddenly stared at Aragorn with a gleam in his eyes. “Estel, when is your birthday?” he asked.
“My birthday?” Aragorn asked, startled.
“You told me it was in March,” Frodo reminded him.
“So I did,” Aragorn said. ‘You have an amazing memory, Frodo. Is it March already? Out in the wild, I tend to lose track of time.”
“March 1st is tomorrow.”
Aragorn grinned suddenly. “Is it? March 1st is my birthday.”
“Wonderful” Frodo cried delightedly. “We’ll certainly have to do something to celebrate. We could go camping! There’s a beautiful place near The Water, just a short walk from Bag End. Scamp loves it there. I’d like to go farther, but we’ll have Pip with us. Maybe you can come, Sam. We could pack up all the---”
“I appreciate you wanting to celebrate,” Aragorn interrupted, amused, “but shouldn’t we ask Bilbo’s permission first? And that of Sam’s parents?”
“They’ll say yes,” Frodo said airily. “It’s for your birthday! Besides, our first camping trip was fun, wasn’t it? And this is so close! What could possibly happ---”
“Frodo,” Aragorn cautioned him, “the last time you said that, I almost drowned -- and we both nearly froze to death.”
“But it’s warm! This has been ‘the warmest February in many a year,’ according to Sam’s dad,” Frodo said reasonably. “And The Water is just a foot deep where we’re going. Really, it’s just a short walk over The Hill. There’s trees and soft sand, and ducks... I was going to take Pip to see it, anyway. This is perfect!”
“You’re nothing but trouble, Frodo Baggins,” Aragorn sighed. “I have no idea why I come here.”
“For the food,” Frodo replied.
“Ah yes,” Aragorn laughed, getting to his feet. “That must certainly be it.”
“I should be gettin’ home,” Sam said regretfully. “Can I help you brush Ollie later, Mr. Estel?”
“That would be wonderful,” Aragorn said with a smile. “He’s missed you, Sam.”
Sam started toward home, and Frodo and Aragorn continued up The Hill. Stooping low to enter Bag End, the Ranger found that he needed to watch where he stepped. The floor of the usually orderly parlor was littered with brightly-colored toys of all sizes and shapes. The lowest areas of shelves, cabinets, and cupboards had been emptied -- in an attempt, Aragorn assumed, to childproof the dwelling -- and even Bilbo’s sword had been removed.
Frodo saw the Ranger’s eyes rest on the empty place above the mantle, and grinned. “There’s no way Pippin can climb so high, even on a chair,” he said. “It’s impossible. But you just never know, especially with a Took.” Assuming that the name ‘Took’ explained everything, he pointed to someone peering at them from behind a chair.
Frodo had grown since they’d met, and had likely reached his full height -- a few inches taller than Bilbo. From what Aragorn had seen of adult hobbits, Frodo would be considered taller than most -- but he still only reached Aragorn’s waist. He could see that this child, Pippin, didn’t even reach Frodo’s waist, which put the tot at what the Ranger estimated to be perhaps a foot and a half high -- if that. Why, he could pop this wee one into one of his boots, and there would be room to spare. Frodo had called Pippin ‘tiny’, which told the Ranger that this lad might be a bit undersized, for a hobbit child.
Pippin stood watching him quietly. Aragorn smiled at the toddler, then slowly lowered himself to the floor. Finally he lay down on his stomach to get a better look, and the now-giggling child promptly came to within a foot of the Man and did the same. The Ranger inspected the little face in front of him. He saw a tousled mop of curly, golden-brown hair, a pale complexion, and a faint sprinkling of freckles. Intelligence and curiosity sparkled out of eyes nearly as green as Frodo’s were blue. Frodo and Sam had been correct -- there wasn’t a trace of fear or hesitation in the lad’s manner.
“Hello,” Pippin said.
“Hello, Pippin,” Aragorn said softly. “My name is Estel. I’m a friend of Frodo and Bilbo’s.”
“Estel,” Pippin said the name thoughtfully. “Are you hungwy? Fwodo said I could help make lunch.” He sat up, then suddenly scrambled to his feet. “What’s that?” The toddler lunged forward to touch Aragorn’s beard and nearly toppled over.
As Aragorn pulled the tot closer so the tiny fingers could examine his whiskers, he looked up at Frodo with a puzzled look. It wasn’t unusual for young children to have trouble with a consonant or two, but...
“Frodo,” Aragorn asked softly, “are you certain that this child is speaking the Common Tongue?”
“It takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?” Frodo asked with a grin.
“Tooks have a unique way of speaking,” Bilbo chuckled, coming into the room. “Soon you won’t have any trouble understanding everything this rascal says, and you’ll be sorry you ever learned. A more insatiable lad I’ve never met.”
“A most distinctive accent,” Aragorn agreed. He sat up with Pippin in his arms, the boy’s fingers now tracing their way around the large, silver star pinned to his cloak. “It is good to see you again, my friend,” he smiled at Bilbo. “You have a houseful this week.”
“Our home is always open to you, Estel. We’re glad to see you.”
“Come on, Pip. Let’s get lunch ready.” Frodo motioned toward the kitchen, and Pippin wriggled out of Aragorn’s arms and ran to Frodo’s side.
All at once, Scamp came running into the room, looking for Pippin. She skidded to a stop upon seeing Aragorn, still sitting on the floor, and to everyone’s amazement, instantly turned tail and ran as fast as she could out of the parlor and down the corridor to Frodo’s room. Before anyone had time to question the odd behavior, the pup came dashing back with her favorite pull-toy in her mouth. She deposited the knotted-together rag in front of Aragorn, and pranced about him excitedly, wagging her tail furiously.
“I think she remembers you,” Bilbo said with a huge grin. Aragorn laughed delightedly, picked up one end of the rope, and shook it gently. Scamp grabbed the other end with her teeth and growled, ready to do battle.
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