S.R. 1391, September 26
The next morning, Aragorn awoke instantly alert, as always. He sat up, assessing his surroundings and instinctively taking note of anything unusual or dangerous. The scene before his eyes was certainly unusual, but far from dangerous.
A tiny hobbit lad lay on his stomach under Arthad, who was standing over the child and nudging him with his nose --- looking for more treats, Aragorn suspected with a sigh --- while the child was giggling so uncontrollably that he could hardly move. The small pony was standing nearby, drinking water out of a large, flat pan.
An adult hobbit, softly singing a tune unfamiliar to Aragorn, was adding sticks to the fire, over which a variety of pots were hanging from the Ranger’s makeshift spit. Pans and baskets and cooking utensils were spread out around him, and the air was filled with delicious aromas.
And a blanket-covered, hobbit-shaped lump a mere foot away was moving ever so slightly, one foot all that was visible.
“Samwise, leave that poor horse alone and wake Frodo. You boys need your breakfast.”
“I’m tryin’, Mr. Bilbo!” sputtered Sam between giggles. Aragorn pursed his lips and sent a short, whistled command to Arthad, who immediately ceased his play and stood still. Sam got to his feet and walked over to him.
“Mornin’, sir,” Sam said brightly. “Can we ride on Ollie later?”
Aragorn smiled at the lad. “You certainly have a way with animals, Sam. I just hope Arthad remembers his name after you’ve gone.”
“He should,” said Sam seriously. “He seems very smart.”
“He is. As for a ride…” Aragorn looked at Bilbo, who was listening as he forked sausages out of a pan and onto a plate.
“I don’t see why not, if you’re willing, Estel.” Bilbo looked around. “Perhaps just around the glade? It’s certainly large enough.”
“That’d be great,” said Sam. “’Cept Mr. Frodo’s a bit skittish around animals. Maybe I should go first so he can see it’s safe.” Sam surveyed his sleeping friend. “I hate to wake him,” he sighed.
Aragorn pulled a corner of Frodo’s blanket away so the boy’s face could be seen. As the cool air and bright morning sunlight hit his closed eyes, Frodo frowned and tried to burrow deeper into the blankets. Aragorn, seeing that the tween was at least semi-conscious, smiled and winked at Sam.
“Apparently, Frodo doesn’t want his present,” said the Ranger casually. “What a shame --- after I brought it all the way from Rivendell.”
“Riv’ndell?” murmured a sleepy voice. “What… oh!” Frodo’s eyes shot open and he sat up, remembering where he was. He smiled at Estel, then Sam, then took a deep breath of the breakfast-scented air. “I’m so glad this wasn’t a dream!”
“So you do want breakfast,” chuckled Bilbo. “Come wash up, lads. At least you don’t have to use that icy stream water this morning.” He pointed to a large pan that lay by his feet, half full of water warmed from the fire.
“Bilbo, I must be the cleanest hobbit in all the Shire, thanks to you,” Frodo grumbled good-naturedly. He and Sam splashed their faces and washed their hands, as did Aragorn, then everyone sat down to feast on the eggs, sausages, fresh fruit, bread, and jams that Bilbo set out. To Frodo, everything tasted even better outdoors than it ever had in the kitchen at Bag End.
“That was wonderful, Mr. Bilbo,” said Sam contentedly, putting down his empty plate. “But Mr. Frodo and I’ll fix second breakfast for you, won’t we, Mr. Frodo?”
“Second breakfast?” Aragorn looked confused. Just then, he caught Frodo looking at him, then hastily looking away.
“All right, Frodo,” said Aragorn with a grin. “You’ve been very patient.” He walked over to his pack and unlaced it, then withdrew a parcel wrapped in silken cloth. He then sat down again and handed Frodo the package. “Among my people, gifts are received, not given, on our birthdays,” he explained.
Frodo ran his hand over the soft, blue cloth which seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, then folded it back to reveal a large, thick book. The brown leather cover was quite plain, but when Frodo opened it, he gasped in wonder. On every page there was a long list of words or phrases, and next to each word or phrase were Elvish characters.
Bilbo crouched down and looked at one of the pages closely. “It’s like a schoolbook! Here, Frodo, see the word ‘sun’? Next to it is the same word, written in Elvish.”
“This was mine,” said Aragorn softly. “I grew up speaking Elvish, but I had to be taught how to write it. I spent many hours copying this out, and practicing my letters.”
“You… I…” Frodo seemed to have forgotten how to speak. “This is… it’s…”
With a reverent finger, Sam touched one of the words in the precious book. “Elves…” he whispered in awe. “This is Elvish?”
“Sam just can’t hear enough about Elves,” Bilbo said with a smile. “I think the only reason he pretends to like Frodo is so he can hear my stories.”
“Pretends to like him?” Sam was positively indignant.
Aragorn started laughing and put his arm around the lad. “Sam, it’s good of you to pretend to be friends with this waif,” he chuckled. “Poor Frodo.”
Sam realized he was being teased. “Well then,” he declared, “I think I’ll pretend to like Mr. Frodo awhile longer. I’ll never learn to read, if I don’t!”
“It looks as if you won’t be the only one learning to read this winter, Sam,” said Bilbo, taking the book from Frodo and examining it. “What a wonderful gift, Estel. Frodo and I will be spending a lot of time with this.”
“We’ll be learnin’ together, Mr. Frodo,” said Sam happily. He looked at his friend more closely. “Mr. Frodo, are you all right?”
Frodo was sitting perfectly still, entranced. He finally looked up at Aragorn with tears in his eyes. “That’s your very own… how can you… you’re giving that to me?”
Aragorn hadn’t anticipated such an emotional reaction. How many years had this sweet child been overlooked, such that a simple gift and an attentive friend were so precious and rare that they brought him to tears?
“I’m giving it to you, little one,” Aragorn murmured, “and to no other.” He gave the boy his warmest smile. “I’m so happy you like it.”
“Oh, I love it,” Frodo whispered. “Thank you.”
~*~
“Do you have a sweetheart, Mr. Estel?”
“Just ‘Estel’, please, Sam,” Aragorn chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I do.” With Sam seated in front of him on Arthad, he kept an arm gently but firmly around the boy’s middle as he guided the horse with soft words and nudges. Sam was thoroughly enjoying himself as they rode slowly around the large glade.
“Is she pretty?”
“She’s as beautiful as the sunrise,” said Aragorn. “You’d like her, I think.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Aragorn bent and whispered to the boy, “she’s an Elf.”
“A real Elf?”
“A real Elf.”
After a few minutes, Sam bent his head back so he could look up at the Ranger.
“I’ve never seen such straight hair. Won’t it curl even a little bit?”
Aragorn chuckled. “Not even a little bit.”
“Oh. What about---”
“Gandalf was wrong, I think,” said Aragorn with a smile.
“About what, sir?”
“He seems to think that the only inquisitive hobbits are named Baggins!”
“Inquisitive?”
“That means someone who asks a lot of questions.”
Sam grinned. “My family thinks I ask a lot of questions, too --- guess it’s just how I was made.” He reached down to stroke the horse. “I want to know all kinds of things. Mr. Bilbo’s gonna teach me to read pretty soon. It was Mr. Frodo’s idea.”
“You and Frodo get on well together. You’re a good friend for him.”
“Mr. Frodo’s my best friend ever,” said Sam happily. “I’m awful glad he came to live with Mr. Bilbo --- he’s just wonderful.” He looked up at the Ranger again. “You must be a good friend for him, too. I’ve never seen him this happy, not even on his birthday!”
Aragorn laughed. “We’ll see how happy he is when it’s his turn to ride!” He felt Sam shifting about. “Enough for now?”
Sam nodded. “My bottom’s gettin’ sore. And it’s gonna be lunchtime soon!”
Frodo and Bilbo soon returned from their treasure-hunting expedition, pockets full of feathers and pretty stones, and the four friends ate lunch --- Aragorn growing ever-more astonished at the amount of food that hobbits could consume, and how often they consumed it. Afterwards, Sam curled up for a nap next to Bilbo, who sat on a blanket leafing through Aragorn’s book.
Frodo didn’t want to appear afraid, but he greeted the idea of riding Arthad less than enthusiastically. Aragorn, sensing his reluctance, put the boy on his shoulders and spent time showing him where Arthad liked to be stroked and scratched, and how much the horse enjoyed nibbling the bits of apple Frodo held for him. Finally Frodo agreed to be lifted onto the huge animal. Aragorn then mounted behind him, and Frodo kept a tight hold on the arm that held him securely.
After one slow circle of the glade, Frodo loosened his grip a little and looked up at Aragorn with a smile.
“This isn’t so bad, I suppose.”
Aragorn chuckled. “Arthad will be glad to hear that you’re starting to like him!”
After another circle, Frodo relaxed a little more, and leaned back against the Ranger’s chest.
“Could we go a little faster?”
“Hold on.”
Frodo once more tightened his grip on Aragorn’s arm, and the Ranger urged Arthad from a walk to a canter.
“I’ve never gone this fast before,” Frodo gasped, thrilled with the experience. His heart was racing with excitement.
Aragorn smiled to himself, wondering what the young hobbit would think of Arthad’s fastest gallop. After another circle, he slowed the horse to a gentle walk.
“When I last saw you, Bilbo was going to teach you Elvish greetings,” said Aragorn. “Do you know mae govannen?”
“Hello,” said Frodo proudly. “Well met.”
“How about namarië?”
“Farewell.” Frodo frowned. “Bilbo said it didn’t mean ‘goodbye’, exactly. Isn’t there an Elvish word for ‘goodbye’?”
Aragorn smiled. “‘Goodbye’ implies finality, Frodo, of possibly seeing someone for the last time. Elves just assume that somewhere, sometime, they will see someone again, even if it takes thousands of years. They send someone off with good wishes, hoping they will ‘fare well’ until they meet again.”
Frodo was nodding. “That’s a good explanation.”
“That was a good question.”
“Everybody used to say that I asked too many questions, so after awhile I just stopped asking them.” Frodo sighed. “It was so hard… and there was so much I wanted to know. But when I came to live with Bilbo…”
“He encouraged you, didn’t he?”
“Bilbo said I should keep asking him questions until he ran out of answers.” Frodo smiled, remembering. “He had to keep reminding me that it was all right, that he didn’t mind.” He grinned up at Aragorn. “I must have asked him a million questions already, but he still doesn’t mind. Like you.”
“Well, perhaps when you’ve asked me a million questions, I might get a bit weary.” Aragorn laughed and brought Arthad to a halt near the campsite.
“How about a snack?” asked Frodo as Aragorn dismounted and lifted him down.
The Ranger stared at Frodo in disbelief. “You cannot possibly be hungry again already.”
“Why not?”
“Unless I’ve lost count, you’ve already had breakfast, second breakfast, something called ‘elevenses’, and lunch.”
“It’s been at least an hour since lunch!”
Aragorn stood shaking his head as Frodo climbed into the cart and started rooting through one of the baskets.
Bilbo started chuckling. “As I told you, my friend, keeping hobbit lads fed is a daunting task, not undertaken lightly!”
“You have my admiration, Bilbo,” said Aragorn with a grin. “You will soon need to seek more dragon treasure in order to afford to feed this scamp.” He walked over to the cart. “Frodo, why don’t you pack up something, and we can take a walk. I promised to show you why the water in this stream is so cold.”
“May we, Bilbo?”
“Absolutely. But put on your cloak, my lad --- it’s getting a bit breezy.” Bilbo pulled out one of the folded blankets and lay it over Sam.
“We won’t be going far, Bilbo…” said Aragorn. He pointed to one of the many paths leading into the trees. “… just up that trail a bit.”
Bilbo put down the book and lay down. “I think I’ll join Sam in a nap while you’re gone.” He sighed contentedly, closing his eyes. “Be careful.”
“We will,” Frodo called out. “After all, what could possibly happen?”
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