S.R. 1391, April 28
Aragorn had been too ill to notice the beauty of Bag End’s many gardens when he and Gandalf had arrived three days before. Taking deep breaths of the sweet, evening fragrance of flowers and vegetables and new grass, he came across something to be found nowhere else in all the Shire, although he didn’t know it --- a beautifully carved bench built large enough for Big Folk, set in a sheltered spot beneath a small tree. He sat down, stretching his long legs in front of him, lost in thought. After a while, Gandalf came to join him.
“So you found this little refuge,” Gandalf chuckled, sitting down on the bench. He handed Aragorn a pipe and a small pouch, and settled back with his own pipe, blowing lazy smoke rings into the air.
“This is wonderful, Gandalf,” said Aragorn after a few puffs.
“Bilbo calls it ‘Old Toby’,” said the wizard. “The Southfarthing is renowned for its leaf.”
“The Shire holds much of value,” said Aragorn with a smile, “its people not least of all.”
“I agree.”
“Frodo’s fever will most likely break sometime tonight.” Aragorn looked back toward Bag End. “I have locked all of my weapons in one of Bilbo’s pantries; I wish I had thought of it sooner.”
“Is the lad out of danger?”
“I believe so. Frodo will be very weak for some days yet, and will sleep a great deal. Once the fever is completely gone, he will no longer have to be isolated from others. Perhaps the neighbors, or one or two of his friends, can keep him company while Bilbo gets some rest.”
Gandalf nodded. “And what are your plans?”
Aragorn sighed. “It has been difficult for me to stay in one place for so many days; I’ve grown used to coming and going as I wish. I suppose, as long as Bilbo is not alone, and Frodo continues to improve… I would feel comfortable leaving tomorrow evening, perhaps.”
“It is your decision.”
Aragorn looked off into the distance. “Frodo heard me calling to him, Gandalf. I do not even know what language I was speaking, or how I reached him, or indeed, where we were. What did you see?”
“You grew quiet and still,” said the wizard. “It was then a minute, perhaps two, before Frodo awoke and spoke to you.” He looked thoughtful. “You are the culmination of a unique bloodline, Aragorn,” he said, “with forebears reaching back to the noblest houses of Númenor and to Eärendil himself. Whatever gifts lie within you, including those yet to be discovered, may be necessary in the dark days I sense may be approaching.”
“I would not have known of this gift had we not come here,” said Aragorn. “It is a strange fate that has brought me to the side of this halfling child.”
“Tweenager,” corrected Gandalf, his eyes twinkling.
Aragorn grinned, then stood up and stretched. “Where are
our horses? Arthad and I have not been separated this long
in many a year; he will believe I have forsaken him!”
“Take this path around to the left, and you will see a large
field. Our mounts are tethered near the tallest tree.”
Gandalf smiled. “The neighborhood children are quite taken
with such large beasts; they have been well looked after.”
“I want to check on Frodo once more, then I will ask Arthad’s forgiveness for such a long time apart. It’s dark enough so that I may come and go without being seen.” He looked back at the wizard. “Whatever was Bilbo doing under the Misty Mountains?”
Gandalf chuckled. “When you were ten years old, Aragorn, that hobbit and I, and several Dwarves, undertook quite an adventure. There is much more to him than you would guess.”
“When I was---” Aragorn frowned. “How old is he?”
“I believe Bilbo is now… 100.”
“Can that be possible? He appears barely into his prime.”
The wizard looked thoughtful. “I find it rather interesting, myself.”
“Gandalf,” said Aragorn, “I now understand your fascination with the Shire and its inhabitants. I look forward to hearing every detail of this adventure of yours.” He walked slowly back to Bag End.
~*~
As Aragorn entered Frodo’s room, he saw that Bilbo was quietly banking the low fire in the hearth, and that he had settled the sleeping boy into a cozy nest of blankets and soft pillows. He knelt by the small bed and gently touched Frodo’s flushed face. The boy was still quite warm, but the fever was definitely lower than before. At his touch, Frodo stirred and slowly opened his eyes.
“Hello, little one,” said Aragorn with a smile. “How do you feel?”
“Dizzy,” murmured Frodo faintly. “What---” Suddenly he gasped and looked wildly around. “Bilbo?”
“I’m here,” said Bilbo, sitting on the bed.
“Where is he?” asked Frodo in agitation. “Is he gone?”
“Frodo,” said Bilbo softly, “Gollum wasn’t here. Your fever was very high, and it caused you to see something very frightening.”
“But Bilbo,” said Frodo, “I saw him!”
“I know. You saw him, Frodo, I know that. But he wasn’t here. It was the fever showing you something that wasn’t real.”
“I… I saw him,” Frodo murmured. “I couldn’t let him hurt you, Bilbo.” He suddenly winced as he became aware of the pain from his bandaged hand.
“You were very brave, Frodo-lad,” said Bilbo, “but Aragorn’s knife is sharp, and you got a little bit cut. Do you remember?”
“I remember being in Aragorn’s room, but not getting hurt.” Frodo looked from Aragorn to his uncle in bewilderment. “No one else saw him? Truly?”
Aragorn lifted Frodo a bit to help him drink some water. “You won’t be seeing him again,” he said, settling the boy back down on the pillows. “Tell me how you feel.”
“I don’t feel very well,” Frodo said, realizing how weak and achy he was. “I’m so tired, and dizzy, and… I hurt all over.”
“You’ll begin to feel better tomorrow,” said Aragorn with a reassuring smile.
Frodo was still confused about what had happened, but he was too tired to think about it. He just needed to hear it again… “Bilbo,” he looked up at his uncle with wide, anxious eyes. “You’re all right?”
“I’m all right,” said Bilbo. He stroked Frodo’s curls gently. “I’m going to stay right here with you tonight.”
“I’d like that,” Frodo whispered, his eyes closing.
Aragorn stood up. “I believe he’s out of danger, Bilbo. You’ll just have to coax a lot of food into him for a few days so he can get his strength back…” He smiled at the old hobbit. “… as you both did for me.”
Bilbo nodded and looked up at the Ranger. “I’m not quite sure what you did, Aragorn, but thank you.”
Aragorn shook his head ruefully. “Bilbo, I’m not quite sure what I did, either. I’m going to take a walk outside and think about it.” He looked down at Frodo, who was nearly asleep again. “Perhaps tomorrow, with your permission, I might ask Frodo what it is he remembers.” Bending down, he laid a gentle hand on the boy’s forehead. “Sweet dreams, little one.”
“Bilbo!”
Bilbo awoke to find Frodo huddled in his arms, wide awake. He felt the boy’s forehead, then pulled the tangled blankets back up around both of them.
“It’s very late, Frodo-lad. Are you feeling worse?”
“No,” whispered Frodo. “I mean, I still feel pretty awful, but not any worse, I guess.”
“Did you have a bad dream?”
“I was just thinking… about Gollum.”
Bilbo sighed. “Tell me.”
“What if… what if he really did come after you?” Bilbo felt Frodo start to breathe a little faster.
“Frodo,” said Bilbo, “It’s been fifty years since I escaped from that dreadful place. Gollum may not even still be alive.”
“But he might be,” said Frodo insistently. “What would we do, Bilbo? What if he comes here?”
Bilbo could feel that Frodo was still very warm, and he knew the boy needed rest more than anything else. He settled Frodo comfortably against him.
“Hobbits probably seem very small and defenseless to you, especially now that you’ve met someone like Aragorn.” Bilbo felt Frodo nod against his chest.
“I’ll tell you a secret, my lad,” continued Bilbo, “something about hobbits that you might not know.”
“What?” Frodo whispered.
“It’s a strange thing, Frodo-lad, but in an emergency, in a crisis, when you least expect it… that’s when the true nature of a hobbit is often revealed.” Bilbo hugged the boy closer, and felt Frodo start to relax a little.
“You were incredibly brave, Frodo, when you believed I was in danger. There are no words to tell you how proud I was… how proud and happy you make me, every single day. I love you so very much.”
“Oh,” whispered Frodo sleepily. “I love you too, Bilbo --- so very much.”
“Close your eyes now… that’s it… You’ve no need to worry, my boy. Love can do many things, and gives us strength and courage when we need it most.”
“That’s good,” murmured Frodo. Bilbo felt Frodo’s breathing even out, and the boy relaxed in his arms as he fell fast asleep once more.
~*~
“I’ve been talking with your Uncle Saradoc, Frodo --- for quite a while now, actually.”
Frodo sat under a tree next to Bilbo, the remains of an enormous picnic lunch scattered around them. He crunched into his apple. “What about?”
Bilbo sighed, wondering where to begin. “Hobbiton is hardly as interesting as Buckland, you know. It’s very quiet --- and Bag End is dreadfully quiet as well.”
“But that’s what’s so wonderful about it,” said Frodo. “One can’t even walk two steps in Brandy Hall without tripping over a dozen people. The only place it’s ever quiet enough to read is in my room, or out here.” He threw the apple core into a nearby bush and smiled as a rabbit hopped over to investigate it. “Don’t you like Hobbiton anymore, Bilbo?” He grinned “Why don’t we trade? You can live here, and I can live in Bag End. I do love it there.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” said Bilbo softly. He took the boy’s hands in his. “I have something very important to ask you.”
“You do?” No one ever talked to him as seriously as this; but then, Bilbo always seemed to listen to everything he said, and talk to him like a grownup.
“I would like to adopt you.” Bilbo watched the lad’s eyes grow bigger, and felt the small hands start to tremble.
“You… you would?” Was Bilbo joking with him?
“You’re the only one who shows any spirit, my lad,” Bilbo chuckled. “Come away from this place and keep an old hobbit company. That is…” Bilbo looked at him gravely. “… if you wish it.”
Frodo’s eyes filled with tears. “If I… Oh Bilbo, I would love to! I won’t be any trouble, honest!”
“Now what would be the fun in that?” Bilbo’s eyes sparkled with a happiness that reflected Frodo’s own. “I’m sure we can think of some mischief to get into, from time to time!”
Frodo let out a shout, then flung his arms around Bilbo’s neck and started to sob with joy. He felt loving arms tighten around him. He cried and cried, and Bilbo just held him. After so long, he felt loved and wanted and safe. After so long.
~*~
Frodo sighed in his sleep, a tiny smile lighting his face. “Bilbo,” he murmured.
“I’m here, I’ve got you,” Bilbo whispered. “I’m here.” Half asleep himself, Bilbo had been thinking back to the day he had asked this special child to come and live with him. He would always remember it as one of the happiest days of his life.
Without waking, Frodo nestled deeper into Bilbo’s arms, still dreaming… a sweet, gentle dream… about the happiest day of his life.
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