March 1
“It’s only one night, ma,” Sam sighed. “I didn’t take this many clothes when we went campin’ for a week last time.”
“It wasn’t still winter last time,” Bell Gamgee said firmly, stuffing a warm cloak into the bag. “Early spring or not, just a couple hours away or not, you just never know, Samwise.”
“Thank you for talkin’ dad into lettin’ me go,” Sam said, giving his mother a sudden hug. “I don’t know why Mr. Frodo likes havin’ me around, but I’m surely glad he does.”
“You’re good for him,” Bell said thoughtfully. “You show him what it could’ve been like.”
“I don’t understand,” Sam said, puzzled.
Bell sat down and drew her young son into her lap. “Remember, before Mr. Frodo came to live here, when Mr. Bilbo told us about how his parents died?” Sam nodded. “He was twelve when that happened, Sam,” his mother continued. “You’re a big boy of thirteen now.”
“What’s that got to do with anythin’?”
“Don’t you see?” Bell asked, her eyes soft with compassion. “When Mr. Frodo was your age, he was orphaned, Sam. When he’s with you, he sees what it would have been like to have his parents still with him, and grow up happy. He never got the chance.”
“Oh,” Sam whispered.
“You’re sunshine on the flowers,” Bell said softly, “you always have been. Mr. Frodo needs all the sunshine he can get. He laughs more when you’re around, Sam -- even Mr. Bilbo’s remarked on it.” She pulled her youngest son into another hug. “You’re a lucky one, Samwise Gamgee, and you have somethin’ Mr. Frodo never had, and never will. He’s drawn to it. Do you understand?”
“I think so,” Sam nodded.
“It’s wonderful that he’s includin’ you in his life, and showin’ you things you’d never see otherwise. Make sure you mind your manners out there.” Bell set her son on the floor and turned back to the packing. “Now, where’s that hat of yours gone to?”
~*~
“Pony!” Pippin burst out with delight. He started running toward Arthad.
“Pip, wait.” Frodo scooped up the child and began to walk slowly across the field toward the horse. “Remember how Scamp needed to get to know you first? Let’s allow the... ‘pony’ to do the same. We must be very quiet so we don’t startle him, all right?”
Pippin nodded. “I’ll be quiet,” he whispered.
Aragorn looked up and smiled as Frodo approached. Sam, grinning from ear to ear, was seated on Arthad, and Bilbo waited nearby next to the pony and cart he had borrowed.
It was a beautiful morning, as clear and warm as could be desired. Frodo’s eyes were sparkling with happiness. He felt wonderful after a good night’s sleep, brought on by how tired he had been by evening. Aragorn had been astonished at how many bags, satchels, boxes, and bundles Frodo and Bilbo had filled in a few short hours. Frodo had even packed a small bag for Scamp, containing a few of the pup’s favorite toys. Pippin had thought it a great game, ‘helping’ decide what food to pack by getting small tastes of likely breads and other savory treats.
Frodo kept a firm hold on Pippin as he came up to Arthad, and felt the tot cling to him a bit tighter as the horse loomed over them. Pippin didn’t say a single word as the massive head came down to touch him briefly.
“He won’t hurt you, Master Pippin,” Sam said from his proud perch. “Ollie’s gentle as a lamb.”
“I know he’s very big,” Frodo said softly, “but he’s a wonderful horse, and very gentle. See how he’s letting Sam sit on him?” Pippin nodded, but made no attempt to touch Arthad.
“You weren’t that eager to meet Arthad, yourself, Frodo,” Aragorn said with a smile. “It takes time.”
“You’re right,” Frodo grinned. He carried Pippin over to where Bilbo waited, and soon the toddler had forgotten his brief fright as he found himself nestled snugly into a portion of the cart piled with blankets and pillows. Frodo lifted Scamp into the cart next to Pippin, and the pup commenced to investigate all the bags and bundles before burrowing between them and practically disappearing.
Frodo climbed into the cart and settled himself next to Pippin. Although he would rather have walked next to Aragorn, Bilbo had been very clear that at no time was Pippin to be left alone on this trip -- especially not in a moving cart.
“We’re ready, Estel,” Bilbo called. Aragorn lifted Sam down from Arthad’s back, and the lad joined Frodo in the cart.
“Here, Master Pippin,” Sam said, taking the toddler’s hand. “I’ll show you how to count all these fingers you’ve got.”
“You’re so good with children, Sam,” Frodo smiled in appreciation. “Pip needs to be occupied every second, it seems.”
“Why, there’s nothin’ to it, Mr. Frodo,” Sam replied. He pretended to eat one of the tiny fingers, which set Pippin off into a giggling fit. “I was this lad’s age when Marigold was born, you know. I’ve had a lot of experience carin’ for a young tot.”
Bilbo climbed up into the front seat of the cart and urged the pony forward. As they travelled, Aragorn walked or rode beside them.
The “expedition” around The Hill to The Water didn’t take long, and The Hill could still be seen to the southeast when Bilbo called a halt. As Frodo and Sam lifted Pippin down, Aragorn looked about with pleasure. The campsite was a grassy glade near a thick grove of trees. A sparkling stream flowed swiftly nearby. It was wide but shallow, and edged by tall reeds and grasses among which butterflies and tiny birds darted. Farther south, this same busy stream would flow into the Brandywine River. A wide strip of soft, sandy ground bordered the stream. There was no sound save for the tumble of water, birdsong, and a gentle breeze in the trees. The early spring had encouraged trees and bushes to put forth fresh green leaves, and a sweet fragrance filled the glade.
“The Shire is a wonderful place, Bilbo,” Aragorn said, helping Bilbo release the pony from the cart.
“I know,” Bilbo nodded. “Is it any wonder that my relations -- most of them, in any event -- believe me to be somewhat mad to wander off from time to time?” He looked up at the Ranger shrewdly. “The Shire is good for you, as well, I think. Perhaps your visits here give you a time to laugh and relax, and think of lighter issues than what dangers may threaten its helpless and unwary inhabitants.”
“Hardly helpless,” Aragorn said quietly. “Do you never leave Bag End without that sword?”
“I didn’t think anyone saw me pack it,” Bilbo whispered. “Sting hung on the wall for fifty years, Aragorn, gathering dust, until we spent those days with you at Bindbale Wood.”
Aragorn crouched down to Bilbo’s eye level, the hobbit’s rare use of his name capturing his full attention.
“Things change when you have loved ones to protect,” Bilbo continued, looking into the Ranger’s eyes. “Don’t they?”
“Indeed they do,” Aragorn agreed. “The Rangers protect the Shire as duty, Bilbo, and to keep a promise we made to Gandalf. But it is now more than duty, to me. Much more.”
“I know.”
~*~
After an excited frenzy of sniffing and exploring, Scamp raced toward the stream and, stopping well short of the water, began to dig happily in the soft sand. Frodo captured Pippin’s hand just as the toddler was beginning to follow the pup.
“Pip,” Frodo said, lifting the child into his arms, “there’s something I need to show you. Do you see how Scamp is staying away from the water?” Pippin nodded as Frodo carried him to the edge of the stream. “Look.” Frodo knelt, still holding tight to his young cousin. He motioned to a wealth of river-reeds a short distance away.
Pippin gasped and tried to wriggle free. “Ducks!” he cried. “Big ducks and babies, Fwodo!”
“I know,” Frodo said. “We have to leave them be, Pip. We can’t chase them or scare them. They’re a family, and this is where they live. We need to let them swim and play on their own. Do you understand?”
Pippin looked sad. “We can’t play with the duck babies?”
Frodo smiled. “If they come to us, we can touch them and let them get to know us. But they have to come to us first. We can’t bother them. See how Scamp is staying away from them? She knows that it’s fun to come here and dig, and play in the trees, but not to chase the duck family. It took a long time to teach her, but now she knows.”
“But what if they get hungwy?”
“They eat worms and bugs.” Frodo grinned as the toddler wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Sometimes they find tiny fish, and they eat plants, too. Pip, if we feed the baby ducks, they won’t look for their own food, the kind that keeps them healthy and happy.”
“No cake?”
“No cake.”
“Can we have cake? I don’t want any bugs.”
“No bugs for my Pippin,” Frodo laughed. “You have to wait until after supper for the cake, though. It’s for Estel’s birthday, and he gets the very first piece.”
Pippin put his mouth up to Frodo’s ear. “What is it?” he whispered noisily.
“Strawberry,” Frodo whispered back conspiratorially, “with lots of cream. We’re going to put the milk and cream in the stream to keep them cold.”
“Won’t the ducks eat them?”
“No,” Frodo smiled. “They’ll be all covered up. Does strawberry cake meet with your approval, Peregrin Took?”
Pippin giggled and nodded.
“Good. Now, what did you learn about the ducks?”
Pippin looked at his cousin soberly. “I won’t chase them, Fwodo. I pwomise.”
“Good boy.” Frodo let Pippin stand on his own, and he and the child were quiet for a few moments, watching the duck family glide smoothly among the reeds. “Come on,” Frodo smiled, leading Pippin away. “You can help Scamp dig while we set up camp.” He pulled a pail and large spoon from one of the bundles, then set Pippin down next to Scamp. Soon the lad was squealing with delight as the sand flew in all directions.
“Are you hungry, Estel?” Frodo asked as he and Sam began to set up the tents.
“Hungry?” the Ranger asked incredulously. “After that enormous breakfast?”
“Birthday breakfasts are always enormous,” Bilbo explained. “You don’t think we’d let you starve, do you?”
“Bilbo,” Aragorn grinned as he set off to gather downed wood, “I believe a hobbit would invite a troll to dinner if there was a danger of him starving.”
“I nearly did dine with trolls,” Bilbo called after him with a laugh. “But we’ll feed you just the same!”
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