Reflections of the Past

Chapter 2: Mischief and Merriment

“Mr. Frodo,” Sam ventured, “we’ve just got to think of something.”

“I know.  Scamp doesn’t seem to be after the vegetables, though -- she just. . . digs.”  Frodo sighed.  “I’m sorry, Sam.”

Sam surveyed the damage to the vegetable garden.  “I think we’ll have to put up a bit of a fence,” he said finally.  “If the poles are set down deep enough, they just might keep her out, the little scoundrel.”  He knelt to look closer at one of the many holes, but ended up patting and talking to Scamp, who was snuffling happily in the fresh, cool dirt she had dug up.

Frodo grinned, knowing that Sam couldn’t even pretend to stay cross with Scamp for more than a moment.  The unabashed delight with which the pup greeted the Gaffer and Sam every morning had taken everyone by surprise, and the two gardeners -- master and apprentice -- had found themselves unable to resist such determined friendliness.

Bilbo suspected that Scamp sensed how others felt about (and treated) Frodo, and reacted to them accordingly -- but Frodo simply thought that the pup was a good judge of character.

“It’s only been a week,” Frodo said, wiping a sleeve over his wet forehead.  “Maybe when this heat wave breaks, she won’t need to dig down where it’s cooler.”

“A week, eh?” Sam looked up.  “Time to send her back?”

Frodo grinned.  “What do you think?”

Sam smiled knowingly.  After the initial shock of being introduced to Bag End’s newest resident, and seeing how Mr. Frodo treated her like a member of the family, Sam had just known that all talk of keeping the pup “temporarily” had been nonsense.

“Is the paper all written up, then?”

Frodo nodded.  “Bilbo gave me some parchment to use, and he drew a fancy border around it.”

“Where will you get seven witnesses?” Sam asked.  “My sisters can’t even sign their own names.”

“I know,” Frodo sighed, “but since it’s adoption papers for a dog, and not a person, I don’t suppose things have to be that formal.  Maybe just Bilbo, you, and I can sign it.”

“I’d be purely honored, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said.  “But in the meantime. . .”  He picked up a small spade.

“No, you don’t.”  Frodo took the spade from the child’s hands.  “You shouldn’t have to fill in all the holes this rascal’s made.”  He looked around and shook his head.  “There must be dozens of them.”

“That’s not right, Mr. Frodo,” Sam frowned.  “It’s not your place to be workin’ out here this afternoon.  Or any afternoon.”

“Maybe just today,” Frodo laughed, lifting a shovelful of dirt.  “If only we could teach Scamp how to fill in holes, as well as dig them.  But at least she’s not digging up your gardens,” he observed, “nor anyone else’s.”

“That’s because she won’t leave your side!” Sam smiled.  “She doesn’t look so fierce, but that’s a loyal one you got there.”

“But she does leave my side, Sam,” Frodo replied.  “Each evening, or sometimes in the middle of the night, she disappears somewhere in Bag End and reappears later, paws all covered with fresh dirt.  Bilbo and I can’t figure out where she goes.”

“That is odd,” Sam agreed, “Bag End bein’ all lined with that nice brick and wood everywhere.”

Frodo worked diligently filling in the holes Scamp had dug in the vegetable garden, and then discovered that the pup hadn’t slighted the flower or herb gardens either.  It was early evening before he finished, insisting that Sam not lift a finger to help.  Finally Sam had to go home to supper, and Frodo dropped the spade wearily.

“Come here, you crazy pup,” Frodo said, crooking a finger to where Scamp was sniffing her way around the various herbs.  The dog bounded over and leaped into the boy’s arms.

“I really need to train you not to do this again,” Frodo addressed Scamp seriously, carrying the pup through the front door.

Bilbo was out visiting and wouldn’t be back until later, so Frodo made himself some supper, fed Scamp, and planned a nice, long soak in a tub to cool off and wash away the soil smeared all over his arms, hands, and face.

“I’ll just lie down for a few minutes,” he murmured to himself, and lay down on his bed fully clothed, still smudged and dirty.  He was so exhausted that he fell asleep almost instantly.  He never heard Bilbo return, and didn’t feel the light blanket cover him -- and he heard none of the commotion at the front door hours later, nor the soft voices near him.

“What have you done to him, Bilbo?  Are you working Frodo into such a state every night?”

“I am blameless,” Bilbo chuckled quietly.  “Here is the real culprit.”  He peeled back a corner of the blanket to reveal a tiny dog, wide awake and suspicious of this stranger.

“Ah.”  A finger was held out for the dog’s inspection.  Scamp sniffed it thoroughly, then relaxed and thumped her tail happily as she was stroked gently behind her ears.

“Come,” Bilbo said, “I’ll make you some tea, and we can talk for a bit.”

“Thank you, my friend.  Here, let me leave this for Frodo to see in the morning.”  Something was draped over the chair next to Frodo’s bed, and a hand touched the dark curls for a moment.

“I’ll see you in the morning, little one,” a soft voice whispered into a small, pointed ear.

~*~

Frodo slept soundly all night, and awoke to the now-familiar sound of the tiny yips and growls that signalled that Scamp had discovered something new to play with.  To chew on.  To shred into unrecognizable… Frodo sighed and opened his eyes; sure enough, the pup was pulling a large piece of cloth around on the floor, shaking and biting at it.

“Scamp,” Frodo said to the pup, “if that’s one of Bilbo’s cloaks, you’re going to have to answer to him.  This is not the best way to start your Adoption Day, you know.”  He started to rise, but fell back with a groan.  His arms and shoulders ached from the previous day’s exertions in the garden.  However did Sam do that every day?  He sat up slowly, suddenly realizing that he was still fully clothed and stiff with dirt.

“All right,” Frodo sighed, “let’s see what you’ve got there.”  He lowered himself to the floor, then took up a bit of the cloth and pulled it towards him.  Scamp, her teeth clamped shut on a corner of the fabric, was pulled across the floor and into his arms.

“You have your own toys to chew on,” Frodo reminded the dog, waving a finger in the pup’s unrepentent face.  “And besides, where did you find this?”  He inspected the vaguely familiar cloth, unsurprised to find tiny holes newly-bitten through the thick fabric.  “Bilbo doesn’t. . . this is too big for. . .”

“Oh!”  Frodo gasped.  He put Scamp down, dropped the cloak, and ran from the room.  Scamp nosed the large silver star pinned to the fabric for just a moment before bounding after him.

~*~

“Sam, wake up!”

“Go away, Mari.”

“But the horse is back!”

Sam sighed and opened his eyes to Marigold’s smiling face.  “Are you sleepwalkin’, sis?”

“No, silly.”  Marigold tugged at Sam’s blankets.  “The horse you like is back!  Daisy saw ’im out in the field when she was out with the chickens this mornin’.”

“He’s back?”  Sam leaped out of bed.  “Ollie?”

~*~

“Estel!”  Frodo ran straight out the front door of Bag End, closely followed by Scamp, and leaped into Aragorn’s arms.  “Why do you always arrive when I’m asleep?”

“Why are you always asleep when I arrive?”  The Ranger laughed and hugged the boy, then set him down.  Bilbo, standing nearby, smiled at the joy on Frodo’s face.

“Can you stay for awhile?” Frodo asked anxiously.

“For a few days,” Aragorn assured him.  “That is, if it’s all right with the entire Baggins household.”

“Three of us have to agree now,” Frodo replied, pointing to where the pup was inspecting the Ranger’s boots.  “This is Scamp.”

“Scamp, eh?”  Aragorn grinned.  He bent down to pick up the pup, who fit easily into his large hands, and looked at her closely.  “Frodo,” he said finally, “this is the smallest dog I’ve ever seen.  At least there’s no danger of her eating you and Bilbo out of house and home.”

“Hah!” Bilbo snorted.  “This beast eats as much as Frodo, and then some.”

“That hardly seems---”

“Mr. Estel!”

Frodo, Bilbo, and Aragorn turned to see Sam running full-speed up Hill Lane.  Aragorn put Scamp down and smiled fondly at the boy.  Even in Rivendell, he didn’t receive a welcome such as this.

“Sam,” the Ranger said as the boy skidded to a halt in front of him, “I just know you greeted Arthad before coming to see me.”

“Maybe just for a minute,” Sam grinned.

“Sam, it’s too hot to be running like that,” Frodo said, concerned.  “Come in and have breakfast, and we’ll hear what this vagabond has been up to.”  Frodo looked down suddenly and groaned.  “Scamp, leave that alone.”  He pulled the pup away from Aragorn’s boots in time to save one of the laces from being untied.  “You chew on everything that isn’t nailed down, and---”  He paled suddenly, remembering the teeth marks in Aragorn’s cloak, still on the floor of his room.

“I’ll put everything out of her reach,” Aragorn assured him.

“Don’t forget to put your weapons out of reach, as well,” Bilbo reminded him, smiling at Frodo.

“Bilbo,” Frodo sighed, “you know I would never deliberately touch those dreadful things.  I don’t even remember doing it, last time.”  He took the Ranger’s hand.  “Come on, we have a lot to catch up on.”

“Now don’t get the idea that I came to see you, Frodo Baggins.  I merely stopped by to acquire more of that excellent pipeweed from Bilbo.”

“Hmmph,” Frodo sniffed, “I should have known.  Make him work for it, Bilbo.”

“It looks as if you’re the one doing the work.”  Aragorn looked the boy up and down.  “Have you bathed since I last saw you, Frodo?”

“You’d be dirty too, if you’d been repairing all the damage done by this vicious beast,” Frodo grinned.  “And speaking of needing baths, Estel. . .”

“Perhaps you should be nicer to him, Frodo lad,” Bilbo suggested.  “You wanted a fourth witness, and here he is.”

“Witness?” Aragorn asked warily.

We, the signatories of this document, do hereby attest that Bag End, a respected dwelling in Hobbiton, the Shire, is a proper and fitting home for its new resident, a dog of uncertain (but acceptable) breeding hereafter known as ‘Scamp’; and that Frodo Baggins, a minor under the guardianship of one Bilbo Baggins, is a proper and fitting owner for the aforementioned ‘Scamp’; and that the aforementioned Bilbo Baggins, respected gentlehobbit of some renown and legal guardian of the aforementioned Frodo Baggins, agrees to provide a safe, loving, and nurturing environment for ‘Scamp’.

We do also attest to the fact that we affix our signatures to this document of our own free will, under no duress and without coersion.

8 July, 1392

The three hobbits sat grouped around Aragorn at the dining room table, examining the document Frodo had proudly displayed.  Breakfast had been long, plentiful, and full of talk and laughter, and now Scamp was thoroughly licking clean a nearly empty pie pan that Frodo had set down for her as a special “adoption day” present.

“I’ve never read any. . . thing. . . quite like this,” Aragorn said at last, trying not to laugh.

“Frodo wrote it himself,” Bilbo informed him.  He winked at the Ranger as he wrote his name in red ink beneath the date -- then Frodo signed his name under Bilbo’s.

“Sign,” Frodo demanded, putting the quill into the Ranger’s hand.

“What happened to ‘under no duress’?”

“Please?”

“That’s better.”  Aragorn held the quill above the parchment, but hesitated.

Frodo noticed the Ranger’s dilemma.  “You don’t know which of your names to use, do you?” he asked perceptively.

“Well, no,” Aragorn admitted with a smile.  “I can’t remember ever being asked to ‘affix my signature’ to an official document before.”

“That’s all right, Mr. Estel,” Sam said reassuringly.  “This is my first time, too.”

“I know you have a lot of names, but Scamp knows you as ‘Estel’,” Frodo said firmly.  “Use that one.”

“Well, if that’s what Scamp wants…”

“And sign it in Elvish,” Sam added, then scooted closer to get a better look.

“Very well,” the Ranger agreed.  To Sam’s delight, he signed ‘Estel’ in beautiful Elven script, and then handed the quill to the boy.

“What exactly does all this writin’ say again, Mr. Bilbo?” Sam asked.

“It says that we’re adopting Scamp, and that we’ll take good care of her,” Bilbo replied.

“It takes all this just to say that?”

“It also says that no one’s forcing you to sign your name,” Frodo added.

“No one’s ever asked me to sign my name,” Sam said in awe.  He took a deep breath and dipped the pen in the inkwell, then very carefully (and proudly) signed Samwise Gamgee.

Once the ink had dried on the parchment, Frodo rolled it up, tied it with a bit of ribbon, and added the scroll to a pile of Bilbo’s documents on a shelf.  (A high shelf, since Scamp had quickly shown that the only regard she showed any paper she found within reach, whether book, document, or map, was whether or not she was in the mood to chew on it.)

“And now, Frodo lad,” Bilbo said firmly, “about that bath…”