Bilbo ... had many devoted admirers among the
hobbits of poor and unimportant families.
‘A Long-Expected Party’, The Fellowship of the Ring
Halbarad woke at dawn, as he usually did, even though he had slept
little. He and Bilbo had talked softly far into the night,
sitting first at one bedside and then another, sharing
stories. Bilbo had told him more about Dwarves and their
ways, and they were each delighted to discover that the other had
made one brief – yet memorable – visit to Rivendell. Both
agreed that they looked forward to another visit to that enchanted
valley whenever possible.
Sam, tucked into the spare bed that had been brought into Frodo’s room, stayed awake as long as he possibly could, listening raptly to the tales. When he finally fell asleep, his dreams were filled with Elves and Dwarves, and lands far from his home.
Only once that night had Aragorn awakened, and Halbarad helped his chieftain to the privy and then right back to bed. Somewhat disoriented, Aragorn had fallen back to sleep almost immediately. Frodo, however, awakened in discomfort several times during the night, and only small sips of the poppy dilution had helped him back to sleep. Bilbo was loathe to leave Frodo’s room to get some sleep himself, but each time the boy had awakened, Sam had, as well – which reassured Bilbo that if Frodo needed anything, Sam would know about it.
As the sun rose over the horizon, Halbarad dressed and went to Aragorn’s room. His chieftain was sleeping soundly, his breathing deep and regular. Halbarad knelt for a moment by the bed.
“I must depart, Captain,” he murmured, “although I have no wish to leave you. The healer will return this day, and you are well loved by these folk. You will not be alone.” He sighed. “I do not know yet precisely what I will say to the Dwarves, but I will represent our people so as to bring honor to you, and all my kin. You will be proud of me; I swear it.” He rose to his feet, bowed slightly, and left the room.
Passing several half-opened doors, Halbarad saw that Bilbo slept soundly, no doubt worn out with worry and exhaustion. Frodo, too, was asleep, as was Sam. Scamp, however, was wide awake in her basket, and looked up at him alertly. She got slowly to her feet, and Halbarad guessed what she needed. He stepped quietly into the bedroom, and gently scooped up the tiny dog.
Making his way to the front door of Bag End, Halbarad opened it and let Scamp down. She roamed about the familiar bushes and garden before settling down to do her business. When she came back to the doorstep, it was to inspect the numerous baskets sitting there. Curious, Halbarad had knelt to peer into several of them, discovering a variety of freshly-baked biscuits, muffins, and even jars of jam.
“Bilbo, the rumors are pure nonsense, and proper folk know it. We’re all grateful to the Ranger for what he did. My family is here if you need anything." – Tom C.
“Mr. Bilbo, would you kindly see to it that the Ranger knows we’re thankful for him saving our little girl? Let us know how he and your boy are doing.” – (scribed for) Lily Cotton
There were several such notes, and Halbarad felt a rush of warmth for the Shirefolk. They might wish to be left to themselves and stay, for the most part, ignorant of the world outside their sheltered lands, but they were not lacking in gratitude, or generosity. He took Scamp back to Frodo’s room, making sure the dog’s water and food dishes were replenished, then retrieved his pack and pulled out the gift he had brought for her. After laying it in Scamp’s basket, he gave her a fond pat and scratched behind her silky-soft ears.
“I hope to return in time to help see your pups into the world,” he said softly.
Halbarad went back to the front door and brought the gift baskets into the kitchen. Picking up the parcels of provisions and water bottles he and Bilbo had packed up the night before (as well as a few savory cranberry muffins from one of the baskets), he finally left Bag End and closed the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, he hurried down to the field where he and Aragorn had left their horses. It was time to leave.
~*~
Frodo woke slowly, feeling groggy. He wasn’t in as much pain as the day before, but didn’t realize it was because of the doses of medicine he had been given. It still hurt when he breathed deeply, however, and his left arm was sore and tender. Scamp lay contentedly in her basket, chewing busily away on what appeared to be a bone made of leather. She looked up at him and thumped her tail happily.
Frodo saw that an extra bed had been brought in, and he smiled to see Sam’s golden curls poking out from beneath the blankets. Ever since that year when he was so ill, Frodo had always felt safe around Sam -- even though the boy was so much younger than he. Sunlight streamed into the room, and he wondered what time it was. Early-riser Sam wouldn’t still be asleep unless he hadn’t been to bed until very late, and Frodo wondered if he, Bilbo, and Halbarad had been up all night, caring for him and...
Estel! What had happened to Estel yesterday? Was he badly hurt? Or was he all right, and had he and Halbarad left already? He had to find out.
He heard a faint rattle of dishes from elsewhere in the smial, and knew someone must be in the kitchen. He was very hungry, but finding out about Estel was more important right now than food.
Frodo tried to sit up, but gasped at the wave of dizziness that washed over him. The small sound he made instantly brought Sam up out of his bed and to his side.
“What d’you think you’re doin’, Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked worriedly.
“Sam, I need...” Frodo lay with his right arm arm wrapped around his sore chest. “I want to see Estel,” he insisted. “Is he still here? How badly was he hurt?”
“I’m sure Mr. Estel’s still here,” Sam said. “Somethin’ hit his head, and I heard Mr. Halbarad sayin’ that he can’t remember a few things. But he’s not hurt otherwise, so there’s nothin’ for you to--”
He can’t remember a few things.
“What?” Frodo cried out. Of all fears he harbored from his childhood, that of being abandoned, overlooked... forgotten... had never quite left him. And Estel had promised. “I have to see him,” he insisted. “Sam, help me to--”
“No,” Sam insisted. “Beggin’ your pardon, Mr. Frodo, but I don’t want you movin’ from this bed, you hear me? Mr. Bilbo would have my hide if you started wanderin’ about.”
Frodo sighed, knowing that Sam was right. He was so dizzy and sore, he probably wouldn’t get far on his own, anyway.
“I don’t feel too badly, Sam. The headache’s better, but my chest is awfully painful. Did I break any ribs?”
“Mistress Brownlock said you just got banged up real bad,” Sam assured him. “And she had to sew up a cut where glass hit you.”
“I remember that,” Frodo said, touching his arm. He gazed at his friend anxiously. “Is Bilbo all right?”
“Just worried about you, like we all are,” Sam assured him.
“And Scamp? It doesn’t look like anything’s started happening.”
“She’s right as rain,” Sam smiled at the dog. “No sign of the pups comin’ yet; we’re all watchin’ her real close. And I think Mr. Halbarad must have given her that leather-thing.”
“Did he leave already?”
“He must have. Last night I heard him and Mr. Bilbo talkin’ about Dwarves, and how he had to leave early this mornin’.”
“What do Dwarves have to do with anything?”
“He’s meetin’ ’em somewhere, for somethin’. Now you stay put,” Sam said firmly. “I’ll get someone – maybe Halfred is outside, or in the kitchen – and he’ll carry you to Mr. Estel’s room so you can see him. Promise you won’t go anywhere.”
“I promise, Sam.”
Sam dressed in a hurry and made his way to the kitchen. Halfred was, indeed, there, as was their mother. Halfred had just brought in some eggs, and Bell Gamgee was cracking them into a large bowl.
“I didn’t want to wake anyone,” Bell said, giving her youngest son a hug. “I’m sure you were all up late... but it’s past time for breakfast, and whoever’s awake needs to eat.”
“Thanks, ma, I’m starvin’,” Sam said fervently. He looked around in wonder at all the baskets. “Who sent all that?”
“Lots of folks, it seems,” Bell smiled. “Your dad will stop by the post office today to pick up any mail and messages; Mr. Bilbo’s relations must have heard about the accident, and may be askin’ for news.”
Sam nodded. He had no doubt that news of the accident had already spread far and wide.
“Halfred, can you come to Mr. Frodo’s room?” he asked. “He’s itchin’ to see Mr. Estel, but if he tries to walk, I’m afraid he’ll fall down flat.”
“I sure will,” Halfred said. “Mr. Frodo shouldn’t even be out of bed, but better to be carried than try to escape on his own. I think Mr. Bilbo is still asleep.” He accompanied Sam down the hallway. “And I saw Mr. Halbarad ride off this mornin’ – it was early. When will he be back?”
“Three or four days, I think,” Sam said. “He’s got somethin’ urgent he needs to do. Some Rangerin’, I guess.” He didn’t think it was his place to talk about what he had overheard the night before. They entered Frodo’s room, and Halfred greeted the young master. He could see the bruise on Frodo’s temple visible beneath the dark curls, which were tangled every which way.
“Hullo, Halfred,” Frodo said, his bright eyes full of hope. “Can you help me to Estel’s room, please?”
“That’s why I’m here,” Halfred grinned. “How are you feelin’, sir?”
“Like an ale shop hit me,” Frodo said ruefully. “I must look a fright.”
“Not too bad,” Halfred said. “Our ma is makin’ some breakfast. D’you think you can eat?”
“I... think so,” Frodo said. He felt weak and sore, but also ravenous.
“You’ll be needin’ a bath,” Halfred said matter-of-factly, “but best to wait for Mistress Brownlock’s say-so. She said she’d be back this mornin’. Do you need to visit the privy, Mr. Frodo?” he asked, and Frodo nodded, a bit embarrassed. “Let’s see to that first, then I’ll take you to see Mr. Estel. He might still be sleepin’, though.”
Even though Frodo’s face felt a bit warm to Halfred, he wrapped the young master in a light blanket before effortlessly lifting the boy into his strong arms. He took Frodo down the hall to the privy, then carried him to Aragorn’s room.
“Estel?” Frodo asked hesitantly as Halfred knocked softly on the half-opened door. As Halfred carried Frodo into the room, they saw that Aragorn was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand rubbing his head as if plagued with a headache. Aragorn was barefoot, clad in simple shirt and trousers, and his long hair -- with the bandage wrapped around his brow -- was nearly as tousled as Frodo’s. Halfred privately thought that the injured Ranger, too, could do with a bath.
“Hello, little one,” Aragorn said with a broad smile, ignoring the pain.
“Oh,” Frodo said, bursting into tears. “I was afraid you might not... remember me.”
Aragorn sighed. “I do seem to have forgotten something very important, Frodo, but all that is truly important at this moment is...” He smiled and held out his arms, and Halfred set Frodo, still wrapped in the blanket, in Aragorn's lap.
Aragorn smiled gently down at Frodo. “What did I tell you, little one, years ago when you were so ill?”
“That I was unforgettable,” Frodo whispered.
“You are,” Aragorn assured him. “Never doubt it, Frodo. You are.”
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