S.R. 1391, May 4
Even after Frodo’s fever had gone, all he wanted to do was sleep --- and although he was hungry, he was often too tired to eat more than small portions of Bilbo’s most delicious dishes. After several days he started eating better, and was feeling well enough to get up --- but slowly each time, and not for long. He still needed to be careful not to move too quickly, or do too much, as a pervasive dizziness seemed to always be waiting just under the surface.
It was hard for the active boy to convalesce, but Bilbo had discovered that a gentle reminder was all it took to calm the tweenager’s grumblings. “You promised Aragorn to eat well and do everything I say, my boy. You want me to give him a good report, don’t you?” It was like magic. Even so, Frodo was impatient with how easily he tired, and how much sleep he still needed --- but Bilbo assured him that this was how everyone felt while recovering from this particular illness.
A delighted young Samwise had been given permission by his father to “keep Mr. Frodo company” today, and Bilbo supplied the two lads with blankets and pillows and enough food to feed a half-dozen hobbits, it seemed to Sam. He and Frodo had been talking for much of the afternoon, about this and that, sitting under the enormous tree in the field near Bagshot Row.
Bilbo sat with the lads for about half an hour, but had soon realized that he had nothing to worry about. Without being told, Sam seemed to instinctively understand that Frodo was still recovering and needed to be coaxed into eating and resting. The youngster seemed to have so many ways of distracting, and even tricking Frodo into eating, that after awhile Bilbo just walked away, chuckling. His boy was in good hands.
Sam had listened, wide-eyed, as Frodo described what the past week had been like, omitting only certain details about Aragorn, and whatever he thought might be too frightening for an eleven-year-old to hear.
“You must have been terrible sick, Mr. Frodo.”
“I was,” said Frodo. “I don’t ever want to be that sick again.” He took a deep breath of the warm, perfumed spring air. This was the first day he had been allowed outside.
“I’m glad you’re better. Here --- you eat half of this bit of cheese, and I’ll take the other.”
“Bit of cheese? Sam, this is huge.”
“You can handle it, sir. I’ll give you the smaller half.”
“Oh Sam,” Frodo groaned, nibbling at the cheese, “if you must call me ‘sir’, at least wait until I’m older.”
“How much older?”
“Well…” Frodo thought about it. “How about when I come of age, and you’re a tween. That’s a good long time from now.”
“I’ll try to remember.” Sam lay down on his back and looked up at the clouds, guessing correctly that Frodo would lay down as well.
“It’s a shame you didn’t get to see those horses, Mr. Frodo. They were right here by this tree, and just as huge as oliphaunts. Did one of ’em really belong to a wizard?”
“That’s right,” Frodo said. “Gandalf is amazing; it was almost worth getting sick just to have met him.”
“Will he be comin’ back?”
“He and Bilbo are old friends; I suppose he’ll come back someday.”
“What about his friend?”
“Estel is wonderful, Sam; I’ve never met anyone like him. Gandalf said he’s traveled all over Middle-earth, and spends all his time protecting people. He was so kind to me. I don’t think there’s anything he can’t do…” Frodo smiled to himself. “…except bake cookies.”
Sam sighed. “I’d love to meet a wizard, or a Ranger, or maybe someday even an Elf.”
“Estel said he’d try to come back for my birthday,” said Frodo. “I’ll make sure you meet him then.”
The slightest, gentlest breeze rustled the leaves above their heads.
“It’s gettin’ a bit chilly, Mr. Frodo. Let’s put this blanket over you.”
“The way you fuss,” said Frodo with a laugh. “You’ll make a good father, someday, Samwise Gamgee.” He hadn’t expected that he would be enjoying this youngster’s company so much.
“It must be purely awful to not have parents,” Sam mused.
“It is,” said Frodo quietly. “Purely awful.”
“But are you happy here now? Did everythin’ turn out all right?”
“Yes,” said Frodo softly.
“Good.”
“Hobbiton is just the most wonderful place. It’s so peaceful.”
“Wasn’t it peaceful in… where you were before?”
“Buckland,” said Frodo. “I wouldn’t exactly call it peaceful; you’ve never seen so many people in one place.”
“But they must have liked havin’ you there, Mr. Frodo. We do.”
“Thank you, Sam. They didn’t mind having me there,” said Frodo thoughtfully. “But it was never… home.” He felt tears prickling his eyes. “This is my home,” he whispered.
The boys just watched the clouds for a few minutes, and when Sam heard Frodo yawn he had another idea.
“Close your eyes and listen, Mr. Frodo. You can hear a dozen kinds of birds, it seems like.”
Frodo closed his eyes and relaxed, listening to the birds, and, as Sam had hoped, he soon drifted off to sleep.
Sam sat up as Bilbo returned, and put a finger to his lips. “Stay quiet now, Mr. Bilbo,” he whispered. “I’ve just gotten him off to sleep.”
“Sam,” Bilbo said quietly, squatting next to the lad, “you are a wonder. How do you know just what to do for my boy?”
“I can’t say --- my dad calls it plain hobbit sense. I expect that’s all it is, sir.”
“Thank you for spending the day with him, Sam.”
“It’s a proper treat for me, Mr. Bilbo.” Sam located some cakes that had somehow survived the picnic and bit into one, pushing the rest towards Bilbo. “Ham and Hal have gotten to know Mr. Frodo real well, but I haven’t had much of a chance, what with him bein’ so much older.”
Bilbo smiled at the youngster. “What do you think of him, then?”
“He’s awful nice --- a bit sad when he talks about where he was before, but bein’ here makes him happy, I can tell.”
“He makes me happy, too,” Bilbo said. His heart was eased by the sight of Frodo, peacefully asleep, the gentle breeze ruffling his dark curls.
“He’s getting some color back in his cheeks,” murmured Bilbo. “He was so very sick, Sam.”
“Don’t worry, sir, he’s gettin’ better,” said Sam reassuringly. “We’ll just keep feedin’ him and makin’ sure he gets plenty of good rest and sunshine --- why, that’s what works the best for the plants in the garden, and that’s a fact.”
“Plain hobbit sense,” chuckled Bilbo. He sat down and tousled Sam’s curls with one hand while he reached for a cake with the other. “That just might be the best medicine of all… and that’s a fact.”
“Mr. Bilbo,” Sam whispered, “did you really see Elves, sir?”
“I really did,” answered Bilbo with a smile.
Sam yawned, suddenly sleepy with full belly and warm sunshine, and Bilbo settled the youngster comfortably against him.
“You did well today, Sam-lad,” murmured Bilbo. “Close your eyes… and I’ll tell you a story about Elves…”
Lost in thought, Bilbo sat for a long time under the tree while Frodo and Samwise slept, until he noticed that the sun was getting low in the sky and the air was beginning to cool. He hated to wake the boys, but he needed to get Sam home, and it wouldn’t do for Frodo to get chilled. He was happy that Frodo and this youngster were getting on so well --- Frodo had already been feeling Aragorn’s absence quite keenly, and this perceptive, good-hearted child might be just the thing to help fill that empty space for him.
Bilbo looked up as Hamfast Gamgee came into sight and walked over to join him.
“You’re just in time, Master Hamfast,” said Bilbo with a smile. “I was just about to wake these sleepyheads and shoo Samwise home.” He ruffled the lad’s golden curls fondly. “He and Frodo have become fast friends, it seems.”
The Gaffer grinned and knelt down, wrapping his strong arms around his boy. Sam opened sleepy eyes as his father stood up with him in his arms.
“Dinnertime already?” murmured the groggy boy.
“Aye, lad,” replied his father. “It’s back home with you now.” He turned to Bilbo. “We’re all as happy as can be that Mr. Frodo is feelin’ better, sir,” he said. “’E’s had a rough time, I hear.”
“He did indeed,” said Bilbo. He grinned at Sam. “And this lad is a good medicine for him.”
The Gaffer smiled in appreciation. “I’ve no doubt of that. This one is a bit o’ sunshine and no mistake. You just come and borrow ’im whenever you need to!” He pulled a bit of his cloak around Sam to keep out the chill, and turned to go. “A good night then, sir.”
Bilbo gathered the remains of the picnic into the large basket, then touched Frodo’s shoulder.
“Wake up now, Frodo-lad. It’s time to head home.”
Frodo opened his eyes and smiled at Bilbo, then looked around.
“Did Sam leave?”
“His father took him home to dinner, and we should take their example,” said Bilbo. “Stand up slowly, that’s it.” He gently supported Frodo as the boy rose, a bit unsteadily, to his feet.
“I’ll come back for the blankets and such,” said Bilbo. “Easy now, just walk slow and steady.” Holding the basket with one arm and his precious lad with the other, they walked back to Bag End.
“I told Sam about Estel,” said Frodo sleepily. Bilbo had been relieved that the boy had eaten a good dinner before letting himself be tucked into bed.
“I’m sure he enjoyed hearing about him.”
Frodo had not used the name ‘Aragorn’ once since the Ranger had left, and Bilbo had done his best to answer the boy’s endless questions. Frodo wanted to hear everything he knew or had ever heard about Rangers.
“Does he have a home?”
“I don’t know,” said Bilbo. “But he’ll always be welcome at Bag End.”
“Do you think he’ll be able to come in September, Bilbo?”
“Well now, I’m sure he’ll have forgotten all about you by then, ‘little one’,” said Bilbo teasingly.
“Impossible,” said Frodo with a yawn. “He said I was unforgettable!” He looked up at Bilbo with a frown. “Did you know that Sam can’t read?”
“I suspect not many in Hobbiton can, Frodo, although most learn their sums to help them in their business.”
“It seems an awful waste, to me,” murmured Frodo. He yawned again and nestled down into the blankets.
Bilbo smiled. “We can talk about it some other time.” He enveloped Frodo in a tight hug, which was returned.
“Good night, Frodo-lad.”
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