S.R. 1391, September 25
Bilbo brought the pony to a halt under a nearby tree and climbed down from the cart, a little stiffly. “That smells wonderful, Estel,” he called out, “but believe me, that’s the last hunting you’ll have to do for a few days. We brought enough food to feed an army.”
Aragorn grinned and got to his feet, then walked over to greet Bilbo and help unhook the pony from the cart. Frodo was a bit stunned when he saw, at last, just how tall the Ranger really was; in Bag End, he had only seen him and Gandalf sitting, or kneeling, or stooped over. The Big Folk were really big. And the horse…
Sam was already greeting Arthad as an old friend, giggling as the huge animal bent his head and nudged the tiny person in front of him in recognition. Sam pulled an apple out of his pocket and fed it to him.
“Come meet Ollie, Mr. Frodo!”
“Maybe later, Sam.” Frodo didn’t really feel the urge to get any closer to the huge horse. “I think I’ll help Bilbo unpack a few things.”
“Ollie?” Aragorn looked at Bilbo, puzzled.
“Sam met your horse in our field,” explained Bilbo, handing Frodo one of the baskets. “It’s short for ‘Oliphaunt’, an enormous beast from an old poem.”
“There are many large beasts in the world,” Aragorn chuckled, “but I never dreamed Arthad would be reckoned among them.” He picked up two baskets and set them on the ground. “Bilbo, have you been baking all summer? There seem to be more pies in this basket than stars in the sky.”
“Just about!” Bilbo laughed. “You have performed mighty deeds, my friend, I doubt it not --- but keeping hobbit lads fed is a daunting task not undertaken lightly! Sam’s mother bakes the best pies in Hobbiton. And speaking of pies…” Bilbo lightly slapped Frodo’s hand away from the basket. “Weren’t you and Sam planning to wash up before dinner, Frodo-lad?”
Frodo sighed heavily. “Come on, Sam!” he called out, heading for the small stream at the edge of the glade.
Aragorn waited until the boys were out of earshot.
“Has Frodo had any lingering effects from the illness, Bilbo?” he asked quietly.
“He has indeed,” said Bilbo, spreading out one of the blankets. “He’s acquired a voracious appetite for any and all information about Rangers.”
Aragorn smiled with relief.
“That boy is sucking me dry of everything I’ve ever known, or heard, or imagined,” Bilbo continued with a grin.
“That water’s really cold!” announced Frodo when he and Sam returned.
“It is,” agreed Aragorn, “and tomorrow, I’ll show you why.”
After the campsite was set up, and the pony was enjoying the sweet grass, the four friends settled down to a feast of Aragorn’s roasted meats and an endless array of delicious foods pulled from the seemingly bottomless baskets.
Frodo filled Aragorn in on everything that had happened that summer. Throughout the meal, Bilbo noticed with amusement that every time Frodo got up for any reason, he somehow ended up sitting down closer and closer to Aragorn, until finally he was right next to him.
“Frodo,” said Aragorn at last, “I don’t think you should sit so close…”
Frodo looked up at Aragorn, stricken, and started to get up.
“…not until we’ve had a proper hug.” With that, the Ranger spread his arms wide, and Frodo fell into them with a happy sigh. He didn’t know why, but being around Aragorn made him feel safe --- as safe as he felt with Bilbo.
“So how were the Baggins birthdays? You’re twenty-three now, Frodo?” Aragorn winked at Bilbo. “And your uncle, he’s now one thousand?”
Frodo laughed, plopping down again next to Aragorn.
“He says he feels one-thousand since I came to stay,” said Frodo, “but you don’t look any older than five hundred, Bilbo.”
“Estel, I may leave him out here in the wild with you, permanently,” said Bilbo with a sigh. “This youngster shows me no respect.”
“It was the best party,” Sam piped up. “Mr. Bilbo made a map that showed where he had buried all kinds of toys an’ treasure.”
Bilbo chuckled. “The Hill is so full of holes, it will never be the same.”
“Sure it will, Mr. Bilbo, come spring,” said Sam reassuringly. “And then,” he continued, turning back to Aragorn, “a whole bunch of us dug up treasure, and played games, and ate all day long.”
“Perhaps I should have attended after all,” said Aragorn, savoring a third piece of berry pie, “if the food was anything like this.”
“You did attend,” said Bilbo with a smile. “If there was another topic of conversation all day, I do not recall it. But then…” He shook his head. “Frodo started misbehaving, and I had to beat him and put him to bed without his supper.”
“The only beating I recall is beating you to the last of the cake,” grinned Frodo. Now that he was learning to recognize when Bilbo was teasing him, he loved hearing it.
“Mr. Frodo gave me this,” said Sam, fingering his thick, soft cloak.
“That’s a very nice present,” Aragorn smiled.
“Your presents!” Frodo gasped. He leaped to his feet and ran to the cart, digging out two strangely-shaped, cloth-covered somethings. He settled back down next to Aragorn and handed them to him.
“This is from Bilbo,” Frodo said, pointing to one, “and this is from me. You need to open mine first.”
Aragorn unwrapped the cloth from Frodo’s gift, and his eyes widened at the sight of the beautiful pipe. The dark wood was smooth, and polished so that it gleamed with a deep, reddish brown glow. He gently brushed his fingers over a pattern intricately carved around the bowl.
“It’s the sickle --- my favorite stars,” explained Frodo. “You like stars,” he continued, reaching up to touch the silver pin on Aragorn’s cloak, “so I thought you should have more of them.”
“Seven stars,” murmured Aragorn. The tiny, carved stars had bits of silver embedded in them that made the pattern glitter in the firelight. “You made this?”
Frodo nodded.
Aragorn looked at Frodo, his eyes shining. “This means a great deal to me, Frodo. You have no idea how much.”
“Truly?” Frodo was beaming with joy.
Aragorn lay the pipe in his lap and gathered Frodo into another warm hug. “Thank you, little one,” he whispered. “I love it.”
“I’m so glad,” Frodo whispered back.
“And I wonder what this could be,” chuckled Aragorn, opening Bilbo’s gift. He was delighted to uncover a box containing a variety of pouches, each labeled to show the type of pipeweed it contained.
“You’re too generous, Bilbo,” he grinned. He looked down at Frodo. “I have a gift for you as well, but you’ll have to wait until morning. It’s starting to get dark.”
“It is startin’ to get dark,” said Sam a bit nervously. They hadn’t come across any goblins or dragons in the Westfarthing, but Mr. Bilbo had said they were in the Northfarthing now… “Can we make a bigger fire?”
“I don’t know, Sam,” said Aragorn thoughtfully. “Perhaps if we had a lot more firewood---”
Instantly, the two boys leaped to their feet and dashed about, gathering up sticks and fallen wood, while Bilbo and Aragorn repacked the baskets.
“I see what you’re doing, Aragorn, but it’s no use,” sighed Bilbo. The Ranger had noticed that Bilbo used his real name only when no one else could hear him. “It will take more than chopping down a forest to wear out those two.”
He was wrong. Once it got fully dark, with a large, comforting campfire to warm them, it didn’t take long for both boys to start yawning. Sam, leaning against Aragorn, fell sound asleep and had to be carried to his bed. Frodo held out as long as he could, but after awhile he, too, could barely keep his eyes open. From his nest of blankets, he lay listening to the fire crack and pop until he fell into a contented sleep.
After checking on the pony and Arthad, Aragorn filled his new pipe with Longbottom Leaf, then sat with Bilbo under a nearby tree. They smoked and talked quietly together.
“You cannot imagine, Aragorn, what it’s meant to Frodo that someone like you cares so much about him,” said Bilbo. “You’ve made him feel very special.”
“Someone like me?” Aragorn smiled. “It was not I who snatched treasure from beneath a dragon’s very nose, or negotiated peace between warring peoples.”
“You’ve been talking with Gandalf,” Bilbo chuckled.
“Quite a bit,” agreed Aragorn. He looked at the old hobbit thoughtfully. “If Frodo feels special, I suspect it is because his legendary uncle wanted him in his life.”
“Aragorn, amongst the Shirefolk I am considered to be quite eccentric and rather unstable.”
“I doubt that matters to Frodo,” said Aragorn. “This was an overlooked child, singled out as special by someone he considered to be very special. He’s been loved and appreciated, and encouraged to blossom and become the extraordinary person that he is.”
“He is extraordinary,” said Bilbo softly.
“Not all treasure is to be found amongst trolls or dragons.”
“Indeed not.” Suddenly Bilbo thought of something. “Where are your weapons?” he asked curiously. “I cannot imagine that you are traveling unarmed.”
In answer, Aragorn smiled and pointed a finger straight up. Bilbo looked up into the tree and, in the flickering light from the fire, could just make out a large bundle resting in a branch high above him.
“I can reach them with ease,” said Aragorn quietly, “but the boys cannot.” He smiled as Sam stirred in his sleep and nestled closer to Frodo, only his golden curls showing above the blankets. “Samwise and Frodo appear unalike in every way --- in looks, speech, dress...”
“You are correct,” said Bilbo, “but that youngster is a rare one. He and Frodo have become inseparable. Frodo is wonderful with children --- he helped raise his cousin Merry, back in Buckland. Sam is a bit older than Merry, but I suspect he fills that void in Frodo’s life.” Bilbo looked thoughtful. “Sam is strangely paternal around Frodo, almost as if he feels he must look after him.”
“Bilbo, there is something about Frodo…” mused Aragorn. “He has such a gentle spirit, he inspires others to want to protect and safeguard it. You say that even young Samwise senses it.” He smiled. “If ever he is in danger, I suspect there will be many who would risk much to see to his safety.”
“That would ease my heart greatly,” said Bilbo quietly. “I’m afraid for him. Such a friendly, trusting lad…” He sighed. “Frodo will not be content to forever dwell in the safety of the Shire. His questions about the ‘outside world’ are endless.”
“He has a curious nature.”
“A pity that the Rangers cannot quarantine the Shire as easily as Bag End,” said Bilbo. “It would keep Frodo safe. But then…” He chuckled. “I would be quarantined, as well!”
“Frodo may have a gentle spirit, Bilbo,” continued Aragorn, “but we have both seen the courage and fire within him. Perhaps you worry needlessly.” He smiled down at the old hobbit. “In any event, I doubt he will go running off anytime soon; he’s still enjoying the novelty of having a stable home, and someone to love and anchor him.”
“He’s very dependent on me, although I certainly understand why,” Bilbo mused. “In the coming years, I need to help him recognize his own strengths so he can stand on his own, if need be.”
“Spoken like a true father.”
“Something I never dreamed I would be! Still, I will not be here forever…” Bilbo suddenly grinned, “…although that might be interesting!”
Aragorn looked at the old hobbit appraisingly. “You show few signs of age, Bilbo, and from Gandalf’s hints and riddles, perhaps holding off the ravages of time is not your only secret.”
“I’m starting to feel the years a bit,” said Bilbo with a sigh. “This old body isn’t quite as limber as it once was.” He met the Ranger’s gaze. “But there is a mystery to you as well, Aragorn. Perhaps we can agree to let the other keep his secrets, until such time as they would best be revealed.”
“Agreed,” said the Ranger. “You are very wise, Bilbo Baggins.”
Bilbo’s gaze wandered to where Frodo lay asleep, and he found himself shaking his head in utter bewilderment.
“That lot in Buckland never knew what they had. They looked right at him, and never really saw him.”
“That’s all right, Bilbo,” said Aragorn softly. “You did.”
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