“Will you be home for supper?” Frodo asked as he helped his uncle unload the cartload of groceries.
“I'll try, Frodo lad. I just need to dash up to Overhill and pick up the apples Farmer Leafstock is holding for us. But you know he'll want to show me through the orchards while I'm there. Look for me when you see me, and don’t wear yourself to a frazzle with those Elvish translations. We’ll work on them together this evening, if you like.” With a quick hug, Bilbo climbed back up onto the seat of the cart. “Is Scamp safely on the ground?”
“She is,” Frodo assured his uncle. Scamp had accompanied Bilbo on his shopping trip that morning to Bywater, riding in the back of the cart which was cushioned with thick straw.
Frodo put all the sacks and boxes away in the pantry and cold cellar while Scamp happily raced around Bag End as if she hadn’t been home in months. She sniffed her way in and out of every room, then settled down to a late luncheon with Frodo in the sunny kitchen.
It was a beautiful, crisp autumn day, and Frodo soon felt restless sitting at his desk puzzling over Elvish poetry. As the sun began to set, he went outside to see what Scamp was up to. The small dog was under the big oak tree, playing with something unfamiliar. He walked over and picked it up.
“What’ve you got there, Mr. Frodo?” Sam called out. The lad was standing in the pumpkin patch, admiring the healthy vegetables.
“I’m not quite certain,” Frodo said with a confused smile. “Have you noticed this lying around, Sam? Is it your Gaffer’s?”
Sam came over to investigate, brushing his hands off on his breeches before taking the item from Frodo. It appeared to be a large glove, made of soft, brushed leather. However, it was like no glove either of them had ever seen before. The fingers were very long, and very thin, ending in rounded tips of cloth even softer than the leather. And that wasn’t the oddest thing.
“I’ve never seen this before,” Sam said, frowning. He turned the glove over and over, and even peered inside. “Where’s the thumb? Why does it have six fingers?”
“I can’t imagine,” Frodo said. “I wonder if a Ranger dropped it along the road, and Scamp picked it up.”
“A Ranger with six fingers?”
“It’s possible, I suppose,” Frodo mused. “There have been Men with whole hands missing, you know.”
“Well, maybe Mr. Estel left it behind after his last visit,” Sam offered.
“I don’t think so,” Frodo said. “Scamp would have found it before now. Besides, Estel would never leave anything behind. He always checks his pack before he laces it up.” He looked down at Scamp. “Where did you get this, you rascal? Did you find it in Bywater? Bilbo shouldn’t let you pick up strange things.” He let the glove fall back to the ground, and the pup pounced on it.
“Mr. Frodo, maybe a dwarf dropped it!” Sam said excitedly. “Wouldn’t long, thin fingers come in handy to pull jools and gold out of the rocks? How many fingers do they have?”
“I... I don’t know,” Frodo said. “I haven’t met any of them yet.” His eyes widened. “Maybe it is a dwarf glove, Sam! It certainly is a lot bigger and stranger than something a hobbit would wear.”
“Six-fingered dwarves with no thumbs,” Sam said, awed. “Did Mr. Bilbo ever mention anything about that?”
“No,” Frodo said. “Maybe he didn’t want to scare us.”
“Dragons and talking spiders and going without food for days and days is scary enough,” Sam agreed. “I’d hate to think he was out adventuring with folks with more fingers than they ought to have.”
There was a sudden rustle in the tree above them -- just a bird leaving the nest to hunt for night-flying insects -- but both boys jumped at the sound. Sam looked about nervously. The shadows were beginning to lengthen, and who knew what was lurking behind the trees...
“Mr. Frodo, you don’t suppose this dwarf is about anywhere, do you? Maybe looking for his missing glove? I’d lock your door for sure tonight, and don’t let in any strangers, you hear?”
“I’ll be extra careful,” Frodo said, feeling a bit uneasy himself. He found himself wishing that Bilbo would hurry home. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“G’night, sir,” Sam said. He suddenly turned and ran, and didn’t stop until he reached his own front door.
“Come on, Scamp, let’s go in,” Frodo said. Scamp picked up the glove in her teeth, obviously unwilling to part with it, and scampered through Bag End’s open door. Frodo followed, and was sure to lock it after him. He then went around lighting extra lamps before heading for the kitchen to start supper.
When Bilbo returned, bearing baskets of apples as well as hard cheeses purchased from the Leafstock farm, Frodo greeted him even more exuberantly than usual before bringing out the stew and bread he had kept warm. He joined Bilbo in the dining room while he ate, listening to his uncle’s news from Bywater and Overhill... all the time wondering about the glove and its origins.
“Bilbo,” Frodo said at last, “is there something about dwarves you never told me?”
“What’s that?” Bilbo asked. “What kind of ‘something’?”
“Do they have lots of fingers?” Frodo asked earnestly. “And no thumbs?”
Bilbo lay down his fork and stared at his nephew. “Frodo, is this some kind of riddle?”
In answer, Frodo left the room and located Scamp, sleeping in the parlor. The glove lay next to her, and he quietly picked it up and returned to the dining room.
“Scamp found this somewhere,” Frodo said, showing the strange item to Bilbo. “Sam and I thought, well... that maybe a dwarf dropped it.”
“Frodo, my dear lad, where did you get such an idea? Tom Cotton gave that to Scamp today when we visited him.”
“Farmer Cotton?” Frodo asked. “Why would he have a dwarf glove?”
Bilbo burst out laughing. “I doubt that he would! His wife made it a few years ago. Tom gave it to Scamp to play with, since she seemed to remember it.”
“Bilbo,” Frodo sighed, plopping down again into his chair,“I think you’d better start at the beginning.”
“There’s not much to tell,” Bilbo said. “When Scamp’s mother died, the Cottons had to nurse the pups themselves, you know. Apparently, Mistress Cotton sewed this glove to look and feel like a mother’s belly, filled it with warm milk, and the pups learned to suck on the ends of the ‘fingers’ where the milk filled them up.”
“There were only three pups,” Frodo said, not yet convinced.
“There were only three without homes by the time we arrived to meet Scamp,” Bilbo agreed, “but there were apparently six to begin with.”
“Oh,” Frodo said, feeling embarrassed.
“You lads certainly have active imaginations,” Bilbo said with a chuckle. “Now why don’t you give that ‘dwarf glove’ back to Scamp and we’ll see what we have for afters. Any berry tarts left?”
“Yes,” Frodo smiled. “I’ll make some fresh tea.” He picked up the glove and stood up, then hesitated. “Bilbo, could you... would you tell me more about dwarves? Do they really have beards down to their waists?”
“They really do,” Bilbo said, “and some even longer.” He got that
faraway look in his eyes that Frodo knew well, and had learned to
treasure. No matter how many fingers dwarves had, the
story-telling would be extra-good tonight, and no mistake.
Discoveries series sequel: The
Magic of Words
Quarantined (AU) series sequel: MorningSong