“Bye, Mumma! Bye-bye, Da!” Not quite two-year-old Frodo cried as he waved one small, chubby hand from the comfort of his Uncle Bilbo’s arms.

The mid-morning sun, filtered as it was through the breeze ruffled leaves of the trees, made ever shifting patterns on the tile floor of Bag End's front hall as an anxious mother stood surveying her baby with doubt written on her face. The little family had arrived at Bag End not more than an hour before, with intention of dropping off it's littlest member into the care of the master of Bag End, Bilbo Baggins.

It seemed an all day party which would begin as a barbecue and cumulate into a ball of sorts in the evening, was taking place, some miles away near Tuckborough. Bilbo Baggins had, of course, been invited and, truth be told, had planned to go, but when he heard of Primula and Drogo's intention to attend, with their little lad in tow, he had changed his mind post-haste. He would never let them know, of course, that he had ever intended to attend, for he didn't wish for them to think he was being put upon in any way. Indeed, Bilbo did not in the least feel he was put upon. He had really only intended to go to the party out of a sense of obligation and duty. A party, with a barbecue would be good fun for anyone, but an evening ball, Bilbo felt, was for lovers. When he thought of Drogo and Primula trying to attend such a party with one so small as Frodo along, well, his heart just went out to them. Bilbo had it from a reliable source that the couple had not had a night to themselves since Frodo had come along some eighteen months hence. While this little one's arrival had been long anticipated (some had actually given up hope that Drogo and Prim would ever be parents), still, Bilbo reckoned, every couple needed and deserved a night to be lovers every now and again. With this in mind, Bilbo had offered his baby minding services to the couple. They argued at first, that they would be fine, even with Frodo in tow and that Bilbo simply must attend the party. They had finally been won over, however, as Bilbo explained his intention to go only out of obligation and that they would quite be doing him a favor by offering him an excuse as to why he could not attend. Now that it had come to it, though, the anxiety in Prim’s eyes told of second thoughts.

Primula leaned in to give the toddler one more kiss (bringing the kissing tally up to a total of twelve times in as many minutes) on his flushed and rounded cheek. “Bye, my sweetling! Mumma loves you so much! Mum and Da will be back very soon. You be a good lad for Uncle Bilbo and don‘t give him any trouble, all right?”

“ ’Es, Mummy! Wub ‘ou , too! Fwo be dood! Pay wiv Unga Bee! No twouba!” The little hobbit in “Unga Bee’s” arms declared with a grin and a shake of his dark and curly head.

The enormous blue eyes that looked at her were utterly innocent and devoid of malice, but Primula knew her son well enough to know that “no twouba” was not a likely thing. A sweeter, more loving (and loveable) child was not to be found anywhere in the Shire, but Frodo’s bright and curious mind often got him into situations his eighteen and one quarter months of living had not prepared him to deal with.

“Bilbo, are you sure you’ll be all right? We could take Frodo with us if you think you might not be able to ---.” Primula started for the third time that hour, but was cut off by Bilbo. She hadn’t much experience in leaving her baby for more than an hour at a time and this was proving more difficult than she had imagined. More and more, Prim was beginning to think that attending this party without the encumbrance of her child was not worth the pain of separation it was causing her.

“Now, Prim! You know as well as I do that Frodo and I will be just fine. Why, we get along splendidly, don’t we Frodo?” Bilbo winked conspiratorially at the toddler in his arms.

“ ‘Es! Spin-did, Bee!” Frodo punctuated his “Unga’s” statement.

As Primula made to protest, she was cut off once more - this time before she could get the first word out.

“And besides - I do have some experience taking care of little ones, you know. Why, I practically raised some of my cousins! I tell you we’ll be fine. Now you two go on. Go to your party and have a wonderful time!” Bilbo commanded the pair.

“Well…if you really think so.” Primula was not convinced. “It’s just that, well, Frodo is a wonderful baby, but he can be a handful at times.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing I’ve got two hands, isn’t it?” Bilbo grinned. “Now, shoo! Off with you both! The party is waiting!”

“Bilbo’s right, Prim!” Drogo interjected. “He and Frodo will be just fine - won’t you, my little lad?” Frodo’s Da leaned in for a kiss of his own, and as he did, he nuzzled the baby’s neck with his nose and made a soft mock growl, eliciting a squeal from the small imp.

“ ‘Top, Da! Tickles!” Frodo giggled warding off his Da with a small hand laid upon the offending nose.

Drogo captured the hand in his own and tickled it’s palm with his lips. His eyes were still locked with his son’s as he said, “Come Prim. It’s time we were off.”

Returning the hand to it’s owner Drogo turned and placed an arm about Primula’s waist, leading her out the door of the smial. Ever the gentlehobbit, Drogo assisted Prim into the small pony trap that had borne them from their home this morning. With one last wave to the pair left standing on the step, Drogo touched off the pony and the cart began to roll slowly forward with his methodical, plodding steps. From the trap, Primula turned to wave to her baby for as long as she could see him as tears stood in her eyes at the parting – brief though it would be.

Back on the steps of Bag End, however, no tears were to be found. The pair stood watching the pony trap slowly disappear over the small rise, Frodo periodically waving to his mother in return and calling, “Bye-bye, Mum-mee! Wub ‘oou! Bye-bye!”

When the trap was finally completely out of sight, Bilbo turned his eyes to the small charge who’s bottom rested against his forearm as he sat perched upon his uncle’s hip. For a moment, their eyes locked and a twinkle of excitement appeared in both pairs of blue eyes.

“Well, now! It looks like it’s just you and I, Frodo, my lad. Whatever shall we get up to, hmm?” Bilbo queried as he turned back toward the smial.

“Dus’ Fwo an’ Unga Bee!” Frodo agreed with a grin that lit his whole little face even as it showed off the rows of new white teeth he had recently acquired. “Wha’ do now, Unga Bee?” Little hands made the questioning sign as they were held palm up in front of their inquisitive owner.

“Well, little one, I’ll bet you are getting a bit hungry by now, aren’t you?” Bilbo asked.

Frodo seemed to consider the question for a moment, then answered emphatically in the affirmative. “Oooh…’es, Unga Bee! Fwo hundwey!” The baby’s face was very serious as he shook his little head.

“Why then, we must get some food into you, mustn’t we? Come along then. We’ll just head to the kitchen and Uncle Bilbo will whip you up some second breakfast faster than you can say “Gandalf the Grey”!” Bilbo assured his little charge.

“Dan-dan…Dan-dalp? Dan-dalp da gwey?” Frodo’s brow furrowed as he tried with mighty effort to form the words properly. “Wha’ Dan-dalp, Unga Bee?” Frodo’s little head moved around to be more completely in front of his uncle’s line of site, the big blue eyes locked with ‘Unga Bee’s’, the tiny button of a nose almost touching Bilbo’s. Soft, dimpled hands clasped Bilbo’s face, making certain that the owner of those hands had his full attention.

The sweet babyness of this little one suddenly overcame Bilbo’s heart and he gave his nephew a squeeze and a quick kiss into the short, silky curls at the side of Frodo’s head as he began walking back up the steps to the hole. The toddler was a bit surprised at the gesture, but not at all un-approving or unwelcoming of it. Little arms wound around the collar of Bilbo’s shirt as Frodo hugged him back and lay his head against his uncle’s shoulder, catching a scent of the pipeweed and ink aromas which Frodo would later always associate with the comfort of his ‘Unga Bee”.

“Unga Bee?” Frodo asked with his head still laid against Bilbo’s shoulder, the little arms still wound about his neck, fingers twined gently in the curls at his Uncle‘s collar.

“Yes, dear lad?” Bilbo answered his query.

“Wub ‘ou.” The toddler said simply never lifting his head from his uncle‘s shoulder.

Bilbo hugged the little lad in his arms even closer and pressed another kiss, this time landing it on the sweet softness of Frodo’s little neck, which made him squirm from the tickle just a little bit. “Oh, my sweet lad. Your Uncle Bee loves you, too.”

As the pair made their way back to the smial, Bilbo began telling Frodo, in his soft, storytelling voice all about Gandalf the Grey. And thus, their early adventure began.

TBC

Chapter Two - Breakfast Adventure!

Bag End's kitchen was, at the moment, the perfect blend of warm, brilliant, mid-morning sunshine and temperate, fragrant breeze as it's eastern-most window was gracious enough to let in a bit of both. One could never know quite what to expect from Shire weather during the last weeks of March and the first weeks of April, but on this particular day, it looked as if 'perfect' was going to be the only way to describe it accurately. Unseasonably warm temperatures in early March had brought the Dogwood trees to blossom earlier than they might have with more traditional temperatures. A cold snap a week after the first of the brilliant white blooms had made their debut was marked as ' * Dogwood Winter', but as expected, it hadn't lasted long before giving away to the milder temperatures the Shirefolk were enjoying now.

Bilbo, entered the coziness of the kitchen with Frodo still perched upon his hip as he listened to his uncle describe Gandalf the Grey, who, Frodo had just learned, was something called a 'wizard'.

"Wiss-dert? Wha' wiss-dert, Unga Bee?" Frodo's little brows drew together in confusion, his dark head cocked to one side.

"That, my dear lad, is a question we will answer at another time. Right now, I must get started on this second breakfast if we're to have it eaten before elevenses! I've heard your belly growl three times already between here and the front door! Are you sure you don't have a baby bear in there?" Bilbo teased poking the toddler's little belly gently.

Frodo's eyes grew round at the thought. "Beebee beahw? In Fwo bewwy? 'Ou siwwy, Unga Bee!" The toddler giggled, liking the thoughts of a 'beebee beahw'.

As if to give credence to Bilbo's 'theory' the baby's tummy growled again. Bilbo gave Frodo a wide eyed look that said, 'see?'.

Frodo's look back was also wide eye as he cupped his mouth with his hands and whispered conspiratorially, "Beebee beahw hundwey, Unga Bee!"

"Well, my goodness! See if you can hold him at bay while I whip up something to satisfy that ferocious appetite!" Bilbo laughed affectionately as he began pulling bowls, spoons and needed ingredients from the pantry and larder.

Frodo, his little fingers grasping tightly to a handful of the back of his uncle's weskit, watched with interest as Bilbo began to put the makings of pancakes together in a large mixing bowl. A heaping mound of flour was sifted in first and was soon joined by a portion of milk, eggs and baking powder. Bilbo worked fast at putting the ingredients together, for he had made this same recipe so often that he didn't even need to measure anymore. With all of the ingredients together in the bowl, Bilbo took up the large spoon he had selected to mix with but found that he couldn't do it effectively with only one hand as he needed to hold the bowl with one hand and mix with the other.

"Here we go, Frodo lad. Be a good boy while your Uncle Bilbo mixes the pancakes, hmm?" Bilbo said standing the toddler onto his still often unsteady feet.

"'Es, Unga Bee." Came the reply from down near Bilbo's knee.

As Bilbo mixed the batter, then began pouring portions of the finished product on to the buttered and heated griddle, he glanced down often to see Frodo still standing almost right where he'd placed him at his knee. After a few moments the toddler began to move about a bit, but never left the close vicinity of his uncle. Bilbo felt a little hand on the knee of his pants and saw that he was currently being orbited by his small nephew as though he were a May pole to be twirled about. Round and round the toddler went for several good turns, then, Bilbo felt tiny feet climbing up to stand atop his own. When he looked down, Frodo was standing facing him with each of his little feet in the soft fur of Bilbo's bigger ones. One plump little arm was hugging each of Bilbo's legs as Frodo grinned up at his uncle. The little head tilted precariously far back, to see Bilbo's reaction.

"What are you up to, my little lad? Do you think I'm a carpet to be tread upon, hmm? Don't you fall, now!" Bilbo couldn't help grinning back as he looked down into the small, dimpled face.

"Unga Bee a tah-pet!" Frodo giggled, hugging his uncle's knees closer and trying to put his face between them.

"Silly lad!" Bilbo laughed turning his full attention back to the pancakes, which were almost ready to be turned.

Frodo climbed down from atop Bilbo's feet and began twirling around once more, his little feet making soft patters as they slapped the stone floor of the kitchen. He was mid orbit when he spotted it. His grip on his uncle's pant leg tightened as it drew near. Its small feet didn't make any sound as they crossed the floor. A long and very bushy tail swished and then stood proudly at attention as it got closer and closer. Frodo was actively hugging his uncle's leg now and hiding behind it as best he could as he watched the creature's approach with round, horrified blue eyes. He'd been spotted! Large, oval, amber eyes were upon him. It's nose twitched as it took in his scent. Long whiskers drew down in concentration as the creature studied him, mere inches away now. All at once, a tiny cold wet nose touched Frodo's toe.

"Aagghhhh!! Unga Bee! UN-GA BEE!!!" Frodo shrieked, beginning to climb his uncle's leg.

Unaware that his nephew was being 'attacked', or in fact, even approached by the 'creature', Bilbo was mid-flip with the pancake when the shrill cry rang out. Poor Bilbo was so startled that he lost hold of the spatula. In vain he tried to catch it before it hit the stone floor with a terrible clatter. In the process, he managed to touch the edge of the hot griddle and burn his hand, causing him to jump back unsteadily, upsetting the toddler who was still ascending his leg. Frodo landed on his back with a small thud and for a second made no sound, for all the air had been knocked out of his lungs. Then, when he was able to draw a deep breath, it came. A wail, full and loud, made up of the shock of hitting the floor, a small bit of pain and mostly, fear. The 'creature' was now hiding beneath the table crouched down low, ears laid back, eyes large and frightened, having taken his leave amidst the falling objects, clatters and shrieks.

Bilbo didn't think his poor heart could take much more, between the sudden shriek, burning his hand on the griddle and then seeing his nephew hit the floor. Within seconds after Frodo began wailing at the top of his lungs, his uncle was on his knees beside him on the cold, stone floor, scooping him up in a gentle embrace as he continued to cry. Huge tears coursed down the little face that was flushed red now from the exertion of wailing as loud as he ever had.

"Oh, dear! Frodo, are you all right, my little lad? Are you hurt? Have you hit your head? Can you tell Uncle Bilbo where it hurts? Let me see, little one." Bilbo's hands felt the little body and the back of Frodo's head gently, searching for any injuries.

Finding no blood or broken bones or even a knot on the back of his head, Bilbo gave a small sigh of relief even as his nephew continued to cry pitifully. Bilbo sat holding and rocking the toddler for several minutes, talking to him in quiet, soothing tones. As he did, Frodo tried ineffectively to tell his Uncle all about it even as he continued to sob and his little chest hitched in the middle of words. Though the baby talked much, the only words Bilbo was able to discern were "Unga Bee" and "det Fwo". Bilbo could make no sense of it, but let the lad talk, none the less, until he was once again reduced to mere sobs.

"Shhhh, my dear lad. It's all right. Uncle Bilbo's here. Shhh." He spoke gently into the small pointed ear and stroked the little back that had taken the brunt of the fall, but didn't seem to be truly injured, though it would likely have a bit of a bruise later.

After several moments of the holding, rocking and soothing, along with many soft kisses pressed into his hair, Frodo began to quiet just a bit. The hitching sobs reduced to sniffles as Frodo finally began to wind down. The toddler was nearly spent, clinging tightly to his uncle's weskit as he lay cradled in the warm safety of Bilbo's arms, his little head laid against the sturdy chest. Drowsiness began to descend on him and he might have dropped off right there, but then - he spotted it. There, still crouched down low beneath the table, the creature sat, looking at the pair with his yellow eyes.

Bilbo was relieved to see that his nephew had quieted finally and from all appearances was about to drop off to sleep. He started to get up and remove himself from the floor along with his drowsy nephew, when the peace was shattered by another terrified outcry from the little one in his arms.

"Aaaghh!!" Frodo screamed. "Unga Bee! Ova deahw!" The toddler cried, pointing to the offending creature even as he tried to huddle even closer to his uncle, hiding most of his little face in the folds of the now tearstained weskit, gripping it with both small fists. "Ho' me, Unga Bee! Ho' me! Not wet'it det Fwo! Pease, Unga Bee! Pease!"

The little body in Bilbo's arms was completely atremble as Bilbo tried to comfort and sooth even as he attempted to work out what the trouble was. From his higher vantagepoint, he could not see what evil must have surely been lurking beneath his kitchen table, if his nephew's reaction to it was any indicator.

With Frodo still huddled in his arms, his little face still pressed into his weskit, save one wide blue eye, with which he was occasionally peeking at the evil creature, Bilbo leant his body far over to peer beneath the table. From all the distress Frodo seemed to be in, Bilbo had expected to find perhaps, a dragon, or at the very least a stray troll hiding beneath his oak table. But to his surprise, the only creature that seemed to be in residence beneath the table was "Mr. Peeper" - the stray kitten he had taken in last fall - crouched down low and looking nearly as frightened as the toddler in his arms.

Bilbo smirked, and then began to laugh. "My goodness, Frodo, my dear lad! Is that the cause of all this drama?" Bilbo laughed good naturedly, pointing to Mr. Peeper, who still had not emerged from his hiding place.

Frodo spared one quick peek in the direction his uncle was pointing and quickly hid his face again even as he shook his little head in the affirmative.

"Why, my little lad, that's nothing to be frightened of! That's only Uncle Bilbo's kitty cat, Mr. Peeper. He won't hurt you." Bilbo spoke to the little one whose face was still hidden.

Frodo was not convinced. Bilbo wouldn't have thought it possible, but he felt his nephew squirm even closer, holding on tighter than ever.

"Frodo." Bilbo spoke the name as a caress. "It's all right, little one. Kitty won't hurt my little lad. Kitty is nice. Look here." Bilbo continued in his soft tone. Frodo turned his face just enough to be able to peek up at this uncle's face, then over to 'kitty cat' who was still hiding and looking frightened.

Then, to Frodo's dismay, Bilbo seemed to be trying to draw the big eyed creature toward them.

"Here, kitty, kitty!" Bilbo called. "Come here, Mr. Peeper. Come show yourself friendly and make a friend. It's all right. Come on." Bilbo sang to the frightened animal under the table as the frightened nephew in his arms squirmed to louver himself higher on his uncle's waist.

Mr. Peeper was much easier to convince that the world was not coming to an end than Frodo had been. Hearing the soft soothing tone from Bilbo was all the invitation the feline needed. His whiskers relaxed, his ears stood up and his eyes no longer looked frightened as he stood and began to cross the floor to his master on his soft, soundless feet.

"Hullo, Mr. Peeper!" Bilbo enthused as the cat reached his side. "I'm afraid I was a bit amiss as host this morning and forgot to make the proper introductions. Terribly sorry about that." Bilbo spoke to the feline as he began stroking the soft head and rubbing the warm little ears.

Frodo, who had managed to get up as high as he possibly could on his uncle's middle now had his face buried in Bilbo's collar, his little arms flung around his neck, hands grasping desperately to his weskit.

"Mr. Peeper," Bilbo continued rubbing the cat's ears. "I'd like you to meet my dear nephew, Frodo Baggins. Frodo's going to be staying with us for a bit. And Frodo, I'm pleased to introduce you to my friend and companion, Mr. Peeper. Mr. Peeper came to stay with me at Bag End last fall, didn't you my furry friend?" Bilbo addressed the cat as he scratched under his chin, where kitties like it best.

At first, Frodo made no move whatsoever. In fact, Bilbo might have thought him asleep were it not for the occasional tickle he felt on his neck from Frodo's long lashes brushing against him as he blinked. But, as Bilbo continued petting the cat as he spoke in his soft soothing tone, Mr. Peeper began to do what all contented kitties will do. He began to purr. Loudly. As Frodo had never met a cat before, he had also never heard the sound of purring. He listened in wonder to the strange sound. Finally, Frodo's keen sense of curiosity overcame his fear. Cautiously, Frodo began to peek at the 'kitty cat' who was emitting a very odd, yet not unpleasant noise as his uncle stoked and petted. The little head was slowly raised from its hiding place at his uncles neck as Frodo looked at the creature in fascination.

"Wha' tee-tat doin', Unga Bee?" Frodo finally got up the courage to ask, his face a study in fascinated confusion.

"Doing? Why, he's purring, my lad." Bilbo answered, continuing to stroke the animal, who continued to emit a loud purr.

"Poe-wing? Wha' dat?" Frodo queried, his eyes never leaving the feline, who he was still not entirely trusting of.

Bilbo thought for a moment of how in the world he was going to explain what a 'purr' was, as he wasn't entirely sure he knew exactly. A purr was just a purr. "Well," Bilbo began. "Purring is just the sound Peeper makes when he's happy - like he is now." Bilbo finished, feeling quite pleased with himself for such a simple, yet accurate explanation.

"Tee-tat, habby? Why, Unga Bee? Why tee-tat habby?" Frodo continued to study the 'tee-tat' in question, now with perhaps a bit less caution.

"Because I'm petting him. He loves to be petted! It shows I love him - and he loves to be loved!" Bilbo explained.

"Oh." Frodo said simply.

"Would you like to pet Mr. Peeper, Frodo? I assure you, he's quite nice. He won't hurt you. Come on down here and meet him properly." Bilbo invited.

Frodo looked unsure for a moment, then asked, "Tee-tat no bi'e?".

"No. He won't bite." Bilbo answered.

"Not det Fwo?" The toddler asked.

"I wouldn't let him get my Frodo, even if he wanted to - which he doesn't." Bilbo assured him.

"Tee-tat no ea' me up?" Frodo still questioned.

"No! Kitty only likes to eat mice! And you're not a mouse - are you?" Bilbo's eyes twinkled teasingly.

"No! Fwo na’ a mouse! Fwo hobbi'!" The toddler declared.

"Well then, young hobbit, climb down and meet Mr. Peeper who won't bite you, get you, or eat you up!" Bilbo encouraged.

Slowly, Frodo loosened his grip on his uncle's weskit and began to slide down. With his feet on the floor, Frodo crouched, backed up between Bilbo's knees and studied the cat, face to face for a moment. Bilbo kept a steadying (and securing) arm around his nephew.

Deciding that perhaps the kitty might not be his doom after all, Frodo finally spoke. And very properly, just as his mother had recently been trying to teach him, began to introduce himself to the feline.

" 'Lo, Mistah Peepah! Fwo Bad'ins at 'ou subitce. An' 'ou famwy." Frodo even did a little bow in the cat's direction.

Mr. Peeper studied the little hobbit with curiosity - for a hobbit it surely was, despite being quite small for one of the fur foots. Perhaps it was only a kitten like himself, ran Mr. Peeper's thoughts. At any rate, it was much nicer now that it had stopped shrieking loud enough to wake the dead. Its voice, soft and treble with just a bit of scratchiness, was actually very pleasant as it spoke to him (though, it seemed to be speaking somewhat of a different language than the larger fur foot). The feline wondered when it was going to reach out that small hand and give him a pet.

Slowly, from the safety of his uncle's embrace, Frodo extended one hand toward the cat. Still a bit fearful, Frodo hesitated a bit with his hand hovering slightly over the feline's head. Peeper took the offered hand as a standing invitation however, and nudged a bit upward, taking his petting rather than receiving it. Frodo gasped as the soft fur met his fingers so unexpectedly, but he decided it was rather a nice surprise. Emboldened now, he decided to do what he'd seen his uncle doing a few minutes before - he began stroking the cat's head between the small, pointed ears. Much to Frodo's giggling delight, Mr. Peeper launched into a full fledged purr.

"Heehee! He wikes me, Unga Bee! Fwo ma'e tee-tat habby!" Frodo laughed outright as he began to stoke more boldly, venturing his hand down the cat's back and watching as Mr. Peeper brought his hind quarters high to meet the small hand.

"Fwo wike tee-tat! Tee-tat na' bi'e! Tee-tat na' det Fwo! Tee-tat na' ea' me up!" Frodo continued petting his new friend as he talked to him.

Mr. Peeper was liking this new hobbit more and more and so decided to investigate a bit closer. Before Frodo knew what was happening, Mr. Peeper had slunk forward and was stretching his neck up to sniff at Frodo's ear. As the kitty sniffed, his whiskers tickled something fierce, sending the little hobbit into peals of pleasant sounding giggles even as he tried to ward of the tickling kitty. Bilbo was having a laugh of his own as he watched the new friends get to know each other. Suddenly however, he became aware of something else. Burning. Something was burning. He sniffed. The pancakes! In the midst of the chaos, he had completely forgotten them, and now, it seemed, they were burning.

"Oh! The pancakes!" Bilbo exclaimed, springing up and taking Frodo with him. Mr. Peeper dashed away, back to his hiding place under the table, in case there might be more falling objects to come.

As Bilbo had feared when the charred scent had wafted to his nose, the pancakes were beyond salvation. "Drat!" Bilbo groused. "Well, Frodo, my lad, it looks as if we won't be having pancakes this morning after all."

"No pa'tates?" Frodo's little face fell, even as his tummy gave a growl. He truly was very hungry.

"Afraid not, dear boy. Your Uncle Bilbo has gone and made a mess of them I'm afraid. But don't fret. There are plenty scones left over from first breakfast and with a quantity of jelly spread on them, they'll be quite tasty. I can't wait any longer, and from the sound of that baby bear in your belly, neither can he. Let's eat." Bilbo declared, carrying Frodo with him to the table and uncovering the dish containing the left over scones and jelly.

Without bothering with plates, Bilbo and Frodo sat at table and enjoyed the scones (which were quite good with the jelly). Bilbo sat with Frodo on his lap, slathering the jelly and feeding alternate bites to Frodo then himself. He was amazed at the amount the tiny hobbit could eat and wondered if the lad might really have a baby bear inside. With the last of the scones polished off (along with the left over tea left in the pot on the table), the pair leaned back on the bench, completely sated. Frodo rubbed a small hand over his belly and gave a contented sigh as Bilbo did the same. The toddler was very drowsy now. All the morning's excitement followed by all those delicious scones and jelly was the perfect recipe for a nap. His eyes had begun to drift shut as he felt his uncle reach one hand up to stroke back the hair on his brow. Warm lips pressed into his hairline as his mum's so often did.

"Unga Bee?" Frodo's little voice was sleepy.

"Yes, dear boy?" His uncle's voice was drowsy too as he rested his cheek against the baby's sweet curls.

"Fwo poe-wing i'side" Frodo's sleep laden voice whispered.

"You're purring inside?" Bilbo asked gently, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"M-hm." Frodo answered as his sleepiness grew harder and harder to fight.

"And why is that?" Bilbo couldn't help asking.

"Fwo habby. Wuved." Was the last response Frodo could manage before sleep and dreamland claimed him entirely.

Bilbo sat just holding the lad with his cheek still resting in the softness of his curls for a few moments before rising. He reveled in the innocence of the little one sleeping so trustingly in his arms. Slowly, as not to wake him, Bilbo rose, cradling Frodo gently. He carried him down the halls to his own bedroom and tenderly laid him down on his belly in the middle of his bed. Cautiously, he surrounded the sleeping toddler with pillows to prevent his hitting the floor for the second time that day, in case he should roll about in his sleep. Taking the soft quilt folded at the end of his bed, Bilbo lay it over the peacefully sleeping toddler. As Bilbo stood just watching Frodo's peaceful sleep, he was amused to see a small thumb find its way into Frodo's waiting lips. Bilbo chuckled very quietly, then drew his hand across the dark hair at the baby's brow once more and leaned over to kiss the sleep-flushed cheek.

Not daring to shatter the perfect peace of the moment, Bilbo did not speak, but thought to himself, "I'm purring, too, my little lad. Your ‘Unga Bee's’ purring, too."

Then, on his silent hobbit feet, Bilbo turned from the room, heading back to the kitchen to face the mess that awaited him there. He was grinning, none the less.

TBC...

"The Early Adventures of Fwo and Unga Bee"

Chapter 3 - "Adventures in Waking"

Bilbo dropped in a last palm full of salt and covered the pot with its lid. He was feeling quite pleased with himself at all he had managed to accomplish in the last hour and a half since he had put Frodo down for a nap. Many times, his stealthy hobbit feet had carried him down the hall to his bedroom to check on the lad. Each time that Bilbo peered in, his eyes were treated to a picture of what pure bliss surely looked like. Still safely ensconced in a surrounding wall of pillows, Frodo lay sleeping on his belly, long dark lashes pressed into his soft, round baby cheeks, flushed pink with deep slumber. At intervals, his rosebud lips, pressed slightly open against the coverlet, worked at the little thumb that had found it's familiar way into his mouth soon after Bilbo had put him down. Once when he'd entered, Bilbo found that Frodo had managed somehow to kick off the quilt that had been laid over him to protect him from any drafts that might find their way in to chill his sleeping form. The toddler had fussed just a small bit, with rooting and small whimpers, as the quilt had been laid back over him, but Bilbo's gentle hand laid against his back giving light pats had been the only encouragement required to send him swiftly back to his deep slumber.

In between his trips down the hall to his bedroom, Bilbo had managed to not only get his kitchen cleared up and back in working order (no small task after the second breakfast pancake disaster), but had also managed to get a pot of soup, creamy chicken and mushroom with baby carrots and leeks, put together and now simmering nicely on the back of the stove. The soup would serve as dinner for he and Frodo and if the savory smell now wafting to his nose was any indication, would serve quite well, indeed.

He checked the flame on the stove once more to make sure it wasn't burning too strongly, and satisfied that it wasn't, took up the dishcloth to clean up the few drips of soup he'd sloshed onto the stovetop as he'd stirred. As he did, he felt a gentle nudge against his ankle from a softly furred head. Obviously, the sharp nose attached to that furry head was also under the spell of the wonderful aroma now wafting from the pot.

"Well, puss...what've you got to say for yourself, hmm? Caused quite an uproar this morning, didn't you?" Bilbo addressed the feline at his feet.

"Mrreow?" Mr. Peeper cooed his innocent reply.

"Yes. You. Ah, well. I suppose you learned from the best - uproar causing, that is. Meaning myself, of course. At least you came by it honestly. But do you suppose you could try to behave yourself for the rest of my nephew's visit?" Bilbo's voice was mock stern annoyance as he addressed the errant cat.

Looking down, Bilbo was amused to note that the cat was orbiting him in much the same way Frodo had earlier. The chastised feline gave his ankles a rub at each pass, the soft fur, caressing him in cool, smooth apology.

"All right, all right. No need for all THAT groveling. You're forgiven. I know you didn't mean to cause such an upset. Don't worry - you'll still get your fair serving of the soup." Bilbo looked down into the whiskered face. "Oh, don't look so innocent. I know where your mind truly is - where it always is - on your belly!"

Giving the now clean stove a final swipe, Bilbo tossed the dishcloth back into the wash basin and dried his hands on a towel hanging from the drawer pull of one of his built in drawers (one of the many wonders and envies of Bag End). Putting hands on hips and stretching his back a bit, Bilbo looked around and surveyed his work.

"Well, I suppose that's about all I can do in here at the moment." Bilbo spoke his thoughts aloud.

Mr. Peeper often wondered whom this chatty hobbit had spoken to before he had come along to be his listener. Charitably, he spared him a look as he lazily set about the cleaning of one white forepaw.

"This soup will make us a good dinner, but I don't believe I shall attempt anything more complicated than cheese toast for elevenses and perhaps cold ham sandwiches for afternoon tea. Not with Frodo awake, at any rate. Wonderful boy, but he can be a distraction when you're trying to cook, and no doubt about that!" Bilbo went on with his monologue. "Perhaps some fruit to fill in the corners, too..." Bilbo mused, then glancing at the wall clock declared it time to go check on the boy again.

Bilbo was as silent as ever as he made his way down the hall, gently pushing the door open to minimize the squeaking. As he peered in this time however, his eyes were met not by blissful, sleeping hobbit toddler, but by, newly awoken hobbit toddler. Still surrounded by the wall of pillows and half covered in the blanket, Frodo sat up in the middle of the bed. Sleepily he sat silently blinking and looking a bit confused, his lips slightly pursed, as he tried to get his bearings back. His hair went in every direction, and all at once, even more tousled than usual. Still rosey from his sleep, his right cheek bore a slight imprint of the stitching in the coverlet. As Bilbo watched, the baby yawned cavernously, nearly splitting his face, following it up with a soft sigh.

"Well hello, my little lad." Bilbo spoke softly from the doorway as not to startle the child. "Did you have a nice nap?"

At hearing Bilbo's voice, Frodo turned his head, looking pleasantly surprised to see his uncle standing in the doorway. Without words, his lips formed a tiny, still very sleepy smile even as he extended his hands and arms toward his uncle, in a gesture that said unmistakably, "get me".

Bilbo crossed the distance of the room in only a few strides and eagerly lifted the lad into his arms. Immediately, Frodo burrowed his warm little body against him and laid his head down on his chest. Bilbo chuckled and carried him from his bedroom into the front parlor where he sat down and leaned back in his favorite, overstuffed chair. Frodo's little knees bent in a kneel on either side of his uncle's waist as he pulled his feet under himself, small pink toes peeking out from beneath his bottom. Bilbo remembered, that from his earliest infancy, Frodo had been very slow to wake and very much enjoyed a quiet cuddle upon first wakening.

"Didn't quite get your nap out, my lad?" Bilbo questioned the still silent toddler in his arms softly. Frodo only sighed and nuzzled closer to him.

"Did you have nice dreams?" Bilbo's voice was still quiet and soothing.

Frodo's head slowly nodded his answer against Bilbo's chest as he launched into another yawn, followed by a sigh.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a rusty whisper and weak with sleep. " 'Nugga me, Unga Bee."

Bilbo wrapped his arms tighter about the lad, trying to comply with the request, but apparently, he wasn't doing it correctly.

"No, no, no, Unga Bee. Na' wike dat. Wike dis." Frodo's little voice was still groggy, eyelids still heavy.

Sitting up a bit, he took one of Bilbo's hands and laid it against the small of his own back and demonstrated that he was to pat. Then, taking the other hand, he laid it against his head and snuggled under, nestling his cheek against the warm palm, as his head was pressed once more against his uncle's chest, his little arms pulled under himself for warmth, hands folded together under his chin. Bilbo chuckled as he allowed himself to be correctly positioned for Frodo snuggling.

"Have it down to an art, don't you, my lad?" Bilbo teased, gently.

Frodo sighed contentedly. "Um-hm."

Bilbo only grinned, giving the lad a slight squeeze and pressing a soft kiss into the top of the tousled head that was resting just below his chin. He took his nephew's cue and just enjoyed the peacefulness of the moment. He was sure it wouldn't last long. Several moments passed in silence and Bilbo began to wonder if Frodo hadn't gone back to sleep, but a quick tilt of his head to glance down at his nephew's face revealed the lad's large blue eyes to be open and aware, though still a bit glazed with sleep.

"Unga Bee?" The rusty little voice finally broke the silence.

"Yes, lad?" Bilbo answered him quietly, never breaking his snuggle hold.

" 'Ou 'nugga pwetty dood." Frodo answered from still beneath his uncle's warm hand. His little voice sounded impressed.

Bilbo chuckled, "Do I,now?"

"Um-hm." Frodo was sincere. Then added, "Bu' nee' moah pwadise. Teep 'nugga Fwo."

"Oh! I Need more practice?" Bilbo tried hard to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Um-hm." Frodo's head, still situated beneath his uncle's palm nodded slightly.

"I should keep snuggling until I get it right, hmm?" The mirth was harder and harder to hold in under Frodo's absolute sincerity.

" 'Es. Teep 'nugga Fwo." The toddler instructed.

"Well, do you suppose I'll ever get it just right?" Bilbo tried to sound worried.

"Um-hm. Fwo he'p 'ou. Teep 'nugga." Bilbo's snuggle instructor commanded.

Bilbo didn't think he could manage to say anything without laughing and therefore stayed silent and continued to 'practice'.

"Na' fo'det pat." Frodo instructed quietly after several heartbeats had gone by with no patting.

Bilbo could help it no longer. His shoulders shook with silent laughter, but if Frodo was aware of the humor, he didn't show it.

"Thank you for reminding me, my boy. Thank you for reminding me." Bilbo chuckled when he finally was able to speak again, patting the little back as he'd been commanded.

"We'tome." Frodo said politely, sounding a bit more awake now.

After just another moment, the toddler sat up from the snuggle just a bit, rubbing his sleepy eyes and giving another giant yawn as he did, this time accompanied by a stretch. The little arms reached far over the toddler's head as he arched his back and straitened his legs, grunting, straining and squeeking with the effort even as he was overcome by another yawn. Without warning, Frodo flopped his body down lengthwise in Bilbo's lap, resting his head on his uncle's knees, his own legs propped against Bilbo's chest, a small downy foot perched on each shoulder.

"Comfortable, my lad?" Bilbo sarcastically asked the small hobbit who had taken over his lap as a temporary bed.

"Um-hm." Frodo grinned and nodded his tousled head from its position on his uncle's knees, which were currently serving as his pillow. Big blue eyes beamed up into the face between his two feet as he let his toes list sideways to nudge against his uncle's ears.

"Well I do wish you'd make yourself at home, dear boy, and stop being so well mannered and formal!" Bilbo's sarcasm was softened by the smile of genuine amused affection that graced both his mouth and his eyes.

Frodo giggled, though he wasn't quite sure why, only that his uncle seemed amused and quite jolly. Bilbo watched his nephew's face as he giggled, noting the small red tongue that came to rest just below and slightly behind his top front teeth as he grinned and laughed as only very small children can. He watched the play of the dimple on the toddler's left cheek as he grinned back at his nephew, still stretched out lazily in his lap. As Bilbo watched, the darkly fringed eyes were laughing as well, inadequately concealing the flicker of impish mischief that played suddenly in their blue depths. Before he could wonder what his nephew was up to, Bilbo felt the slight weight of the small feet lift suddenly from his shoulders, only to come to rest again - over his eyes.

"Peet-a-boo, Unga Bee! 'Dess who!" Frodo exclaimed from his uncle's lap, his small feet covering Bilbo's eyes lightly.

Bilbo's hands came up to wrap lightly around each small foot, but did not remove them from his eyes, deciding instead to play along with Frodo's little game.

"Hmm...well...let me see." The older hobbit pretended to be confused. "Could it be...Mr. Peeper?" Bilbo guessed.

"Nnno! Na' Mistah Peepah!" Frodo giggled, delighted that Bilbo had guessed incorrectly.

"Oh, dear. Hmm. Not Mr. Peeper." Bilbo mused, pretending to think hard, feeling the little toes in his hands wriggling excitedly. "Well then, perhaps it's the baby bear, escaped from your tummy?" He tried again.

"No, Unga Bee! Bebe Beaw 'till in Fwo Bewwy! Dess adin!" Frodo's mirth tumbled forth in a ringing laugh.

"Oh! I know!" Bilbo exclaimed. "If it's not Mr. Peeper, and it's not the baby bear, escaped from Frodo's belly, then it must be - " and here Bilbo paused for greater effect.

Frodo was practically trembling with excited anticipation. "Who, Unga Bee? Who?" The toddler broke in.

Bilbo measured each word. "My. Little." Another dramatic pause. Bilbo could feel Frodo's excitement. Finally, he burst forth with the last word. "Frodo!"

Frodo's giggle rang throughout the tiled halls of the smial as cried out, " 'Ou dessed, Unga Bee! It Fwo!"

Bilbo pulled the little feet away from his eyes but didn't let them go. He grinned mischievously down at his nephew, still stretched out in his lap.

The surprise in his voice was fiend as he exclaimed, "Oh my! So it is my Frodo lad! Well, what do you know! My gracious but I'm so glad to see that lad that I think I shall have to...just..." Bilbo paused dramatically again. He was quite enjoying this.

"Dust wha', Unga Bee?" Frodo couldn't stand the waiting.

Bilbo made him wait no more. "Eat! Him! UP!" The older hobbit exclaimed then launched into a mock growl as he ran playful nibbles, which were really more like kisses, down the length of Frodo's little calves and at his feet and toes.

Frodo was wonderfully frantic trying to get away, but laughing so hard he could manage no more than a jerky wiggle. As soon as he nearly had one foot freed from his uncle's grasp, Bilbo would switch to nibbling and growling at the other leg and foot, causing Frodo to put his whole concentration (what little of it wasn't taken up with laughing and squealing) on trying to free that foot. The nearly lost foot would be recaptured in the process. Bilbo was laughing almost as hard as his nephew.

In between the ferocious mock growls, Bilbo muttered small phrases regarding the tastiness of his nephew. "Mmmm! Oh my! This boy is so sweet! I do believe I will eat up every inch of him!"

During the small moments that Frodo could catch his breath enough, he would exclaim, "No! No! No! Unga Bee! Na' ea' me up!" Until he fell again into helpless laughter.

Finally Bilbo grew so tickled at his nephew he had to pause to catch his breath as well. Frodo lay bonelessly back in his uncle's lap, allowing his head to fall back over Bilbo's knees so that he was viewing the world from an upside down perspective. The baby panted as he tried to catch his breath during the reprieve.

"No moah, Unga Bee!" he panted.

Bilbo, who was also panting a bit, looked down into his nephew's face, flushed red from his laughter. "No more? Aww, but lad, you're so sweet I just want to eat you up!"

"Bu', Unga Bee!" Frodo protested. "If 'ou ea' me up, I be awl doan! No moah Fwo!" He said pointedly, gesturing "all gone" by turning his empty palms up toward his uncle.

"Oh dear!" Bilbo's face was a perfect imitation of shocked horror. "I suppose that's right now that you mention. If I eat you up, you will be all gone. And then what would I do without my Frodo?" Bilbo asked the toddler in his lap.

"Don' know, Unga Bee. Na' ma'e Fwo awl doan. Pease, Unga Bee." Frodo plead, not only with his little voice, but with is eyes as well.

If Bilbo had ever had any true intentions of eating his nephew up, they would have surely all fled in the instant Frodo turned those eyes on him. Mercy, but how would they ever be able to discipline this lad when the need came? Those eyes were enough to slay the heart of the most ferocious dragon or the hardest troll!

"Oh, well - of course I can't have that, now can I? I simply can't get along without my Frodo-lad." Bilbo assured his nephew as he let go of the little feet.

Frodo gave a slight sigh of relief and allowed himself to go even more boneless in Bilbo's lap, arching his back and hanging his head even farther over his uncle's knees. Before he knew what was happening, all of his view, upside-down as it was, was filled with a furry, whiskered face, tiny pink nose sniffing at his own, whiskers tickling so much that Frodo had to bring his hands up to scrub at his nose.

"'Lo, tee-tat!" he giggled.

Above him, Bilbo sat watching the scene. As Frodo brought his hands up to his face, his shirt became untucked from his breeks a bit, revealing a soft, white belly beneath. The temptation was just too much for Bilbo to resist. Mischief flickered in his eyes.

"Oh, my. Just look at that little belly." Bilbo declared.

Frodo turned questioning eyes up at his uncle, but didn't voice the query. He didn't have time.

"I'm sorry, my boy...but I really must have just a little taste. Far too sweet to pass up, don't you know?" And with that, Bilbo began blowing raspberries on Frodo's belly for all he was worth, using his nose to burrow into all of Frodo's most ticklish spots.

"Aaaaaaaaggghh! Unga Bee?!? Wha' doin'?" The toddler squealed around his laughter. "Mistah Peepah, he'p!" The toddler cried out to his new friend for assistance.

But Mr. Peeper was no where to be found, having taken his exit at the first squeal of protest from Frodo, running to hide behind the overstuffed chair in the corner of the parlor. He didn't wish to risk his supper being in danger by being perceived to be involved in any more trouble.

Bilbo continued his attack on Frodo's belly as his nephew slapped at him with ineffectual small hands, even as he laughed. Often, not wishing to cause his nephew any distress, Bilbo stopped for several seconds to make sure they were BOTH still having fun. Each time he stopped Frodo panted as he continued giggling, looking up at his uncle with an expression that told Bilbo that his nephew was indeed having a wonderful time, and clearly invited more of this type of play - despite his words of protest.

Finally, Bilbo had mercy on his poor nephew who had turned crimson, both from hanging upside-down as well as from laughing so hard. He didn't want to make the lad sick, so he stopped his raspberry blowing and gently scooped his nephew back up into a sitting position, pulling him into a hug as he did.

"Come here, lad." Bilbo murmured softly as he drew his nephew up to him.

Frodo lay panting against his uncle's neck.

"'Ou vewy bad, Unga Bee." Frodo panted close to his ear.

"I am, aren't I, lad?" Bilbo chuckled.

" 'es, 'ou are, Unga Bee." The toddler readily agreed with an emphatic nod of his head, but did nothing to try to remove himself from his 'very bad' uncle's embrace. Bilbo felt little fingers twine themselves into his hair as the baby's arms went around his neck.

"I'm sorry, my little lad. Can you forgive me?" Bilbo's voice was repentant.

"'es. I fordibe 'ou." Frodo said generously.

"I promise I'll be good from now on. I won't try to take any more nibbles from you." Bilbo vowed.

"No moah nibbas?" Frodo asked, sounding more than a bit disappointed.

"No. No more nibbling on my Frodo lad. I promised." Bilbo confirmed with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"Oh." Frodo's disappointment was palpable. "Bu', Unga Bee...I so sweet!"

"Yes, yes, lad. You are that. You are that. But, I simply must resist. I mustn't nibble on my little lad, I'm afraid...no matter how sweet he is. Wouldn't want him to be all gone!" Bilbo sounded determined.

"Na' eben dus' a itta nibba?" Frodo asked raising his head to look at his uncle's face as he gestured "little" with his pinched thumb and index finger, raising it to be directly in front of his uncle's line of vision.

Bilbo tried to hide his amusement and look stern, shaking his head in the negative as he said, "No, lad."

Frodo pouted his lower lip and furrowed his brow in disappointment as he laid his head back on Bilbo's shoulder in defeat. Bilbo was glad, for he could hardly keep the smile of amusement from his face. This boy was just too much!

Frodo was silent for a moment, thinking.

"Unga Bee?" Frodo asked softly, his chin still resting on Bilbo's shoulder.

"Um?" Bilbo answered, cutting his eyes toward the direction of his nephew's voice.

"I dwowing." Frodo replied.

Bilbo was a bit confused. "You're growing?" he asked.

"Um-hm. Mummy say." Frodo replied, as though that explained everything.

"Well, yes. You are growing...and like a weed I'd say - fast!" Bilbo agreed giving the little one in his arms a slight squeeze, realizing he wouldn't be able to hold Frodo like this for very much longer. Why, it seemed only last week that he'd first held a tiny newborn Frodo in his arms.

"Fwo dwow fas'." Frodo declared. "Unga Bee nibba swow. Na' ma'e Fwo awl doan, see?" Frodo explained raising up with his arms still around Bilbo's neck, looking at his uncle's face.

Slow understanding spread across Bilbo's face. He grinned conspiratorially down at his nephew.

"Ohhh. I see. If I nibble slowly, you can grow faster than I nibble and that way, I won't make you all gone. Is that right?" Bilbo asked his nephew.

"Uh-huh." Frodo grinned back, nodding, then looked at his uncle seriously. "Unga Bee?"

"Yes, my lad?" Bilbo said, putting on a serious face of his own.

"Are 'ou sweet?" Frodo asked.

Bilbo chuckled. "Well, I don't really know, lad. I've never taken a nibble of myself."

"Fwo twy an' see." Frodo declared, then launched himself against his uncle's cheek in a pretty good imitation of his uncle's nibble kisses. He threw in a mock growl of his own for good measure.

Bilbo laughed outright as Frodo nibbled his way up to his uncle's ear, tickling with his nose as he did. Frodo suddenly stopped and looked at his uncle.

"Well, lad? How was I?" Bilbo asked.

Frodo grinned before he answered. "Unga Bee yummy! Fwo nibba so'e moah!" And with that, launched himself against his uncle's neck, growling and nibbling gently.

Soon, both were laughing so hard their sides began to ache.

Breathlessly, Bilbo declared, "Frodo lad, you mustn't nibble to quickly. You uncle's not growing like you are. You'll make me all gone if you're not careful!" Bilbo grinned and gave his nephew, who had turned to rest his head against the crook of his Bilbo's elbow, a gentle squeeze.

"Ooh! I nibba swow! Na' ma'e Unga Bee awl doan!" Frodo assured his uncle.

For several moments, the pair sat just resting and listening to the now silent smial. Suddenly, in the quiet, Frodo's tummy rumbled, reminding them that it was time for elevenses.

As his tummy growled, Frodo looked up at his uncle, surprised. "Uh-oh, Unga Bee! 'Ou waked up bebe beaw!" He whispered.

"Well then," Bilbo said, making his eyes wide, "We better get him fed, hadn't we?" Bilbo gently touched his nephew's nose with his index finger.

Bilbo rose, with the slight burden of Frodo in his arms, heading back toward the kitchen. Mr. Peeper ventured a peek from his position beneath the chair, and ran after them; off to see what adventures would await this pair next.

TBC! 

Sorry for the long delay in updating!  Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing!  It really makes my day to get these reviews. :-)

"The Early Adventures of Fwo And Unga Bee"

~Chapter 4~

"Adventures in the Garden...and Beyond"

Elevenses had been a simple affair of cheese toast and left over apple tarts, but Bilbo counted the meal as a raving success not only because it had been nourishing and satisfying to both himself and his small nephew, but also because nothing (and, more importantly, no one) had been burned in the process of its preparation. After the two of them were completely sated and had sat for a while in blissful fullness, Bilbo decided a turn about the garden might do the two slightly overstuffed Baggins' a bit of good.

"Come, Frodo lad." He said, taking his small nephew by the hand and helping him down from his chair. "Let's you and I go for a walk outside, shall we?"

At the word 'outside' Frodo's cherubic face lit up and he hurried to slide down from the chair and hurry his small feet toward the door.

Bilbo caught his nephew gently by the arm before he could get too far. "Just a moment, Frodo. We have to get your coat on you first. It's sunny but there's still a bit of chill in the air when the wind blows." Bilbo explained.

The captured lad made a small noise of protest as his coat was mentioned. "No, Unga Bee! No toat. Nah' told." The toddler declared, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly.

"Frodo." Bilbo said calmly, giving his obstinate nephew a stern look. "If you want to go outside I'm afraid you must wear your coat."

"Bu', Unga Bee! No wike toat! Toat too big! Toat too hot an'-..." Frodo began to protest again.

His uncle who had always been credited with passing on to him the very stubborness he was now displaying cut him off mid-whine however.

"Frodo!" Bilbo's voice was still calm but much more commanding now. "It looks as if you don't want to go out after all. Very well, then. I suppose we can spend the rest of the afternoon indoors. Though, it is a shame, wasting all that beautiful sunshine. But...since that's how you want it, apparently..." Bilbo pretended indifference as he watched his nephew's face, which was becoming more of a study in disappointment by the word.

Frodo looked up at his Uncle plaintively, small hands tugging at his uncle's breeks beseechingly. "Oh, pwease, Unga Bee!" He cried. "Pwease doe ou'si'e! Wan' pway! Wan' see shunshi'e! Pwease!" The toddler plead, employing (intentionally or unintentionally, Bilbo couldn't be sure) every charm and enchantment in his considerable arsenal, from big, innocent blue eyes threatening to spill tears at any moment to the rosy lower lip which was protruding alarmingly.

Bilbo tilted his head back slightly as he gazed down at his nephew, schooling his face to lines of doubting and uncertainty. To Frodo, the time seemed interminable as he waited for his uncle to answer. Finally after a long gaze into Frodo's pleading face, Bilbo saw his nephew could take it no more.

"Well..." He started, still studying the hobbit-toddler intently. "Will you wear you coat for uncle Bilbo?" He challenged.

A momentary look of disagreement passed over Frodo's small face, but seeing his uncle meant business, the hobbit toddler acquiesced. "'Es, Unga Bee. Fwo weaw toat." He agreed looking none to happy about it.

"Well all right, then!" Bilbo smiled and began leading Frodo to the coat peg in the front hall.

Bilbo retrieved the diminutive garment from its peg, admiring for a moment the obvious work and loving attention to detail Primula had obviously put into making it. The coat was made of a sturdy, tightly woven material of lightweight wool in richest midnight blue. It had a slightly nubbly feel on the outside, but the inside was lined with warm, soft flannel. A row of tiny stars, rendered in silver thread decorated the edges of both arm cuffs. Bilbo grinned at the sight of the stars, knowing that Prim often called her son her 'little star-light'. As Bilbo carefully guided his nephew's arms through the sleeves he noticed Frodo had been right on one point at least. The coat was a bit over-sized and the owner's small fingers barely peeked from the ends of the sleeves. Primula had no doubt made it that way so that it would last longer, and at the rate Frodo was growing he could well understand why.

Frodo made only slight noises and expressions of displeasure as his uncle dropped down on one knee to help him on with his coat. Meekly he submitted to having his arms threaded gently through the sleeves, but when his uncle made to fasten up the big, silver buttons he spoke up once more.

"No bu'on, pwease, Unga Bee?" He asked in a tiny voice.

Bilbo pursed his lips slightly, but glancing out the window noted that it was very sunny and the coat seemed very warmly constructed. With a slight grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, Bilbo sighed and tried to sound exasperated.

"Very well, then. No buttons." Bilbo said, rising to his feet once more.

Frodo grinned and giggled and clapped his hands. "He-he! No bu'ons!" He laughed as though his uncle had just given him all the Shire on a silver platter.

"But," Bilbo interrupted his nephew's infectious levity for just a moment. "You must tell uncle Bilbo if you begin to feel cold, all right?" Bilbo asked, touching Frodo's nose lightly with one finger.

Nodding hugely, Frodo answered, "'Es, Unga Bee." And grinned winningly up at his uncle.

"Come on, then." Bilbo said with a chuckle, pulling his own coat from the peg and sliding into its warmth.

No more invitation was needed and Frodo headed skipping for the front door.

"No-no, lad. Not out that way." Bilbo said, using a gentle hand to turn his nephew in the opposite direction.

He didn't mention the reason for wanting to use the back door was that he didn't want Frodo to get accustomed to going out the front as the road was just a stone's skip beyond it, and in his experience, roads and curious hobbit toddlers just did not a good combination make. Bilbo hoped Frodo wouldn't be leaving the smial at all without his accompaniment, but he was well aware of how quickly a little one like Frodo could slip by you. At least if he got out the back door it led only to the harmless back garden, which was gated on the front end and thickly hedged on all other sides.

"We'll use the back door - much better for sneaking up on the Gaffer, don't you know?" Bilbo gave his nephew a conspirital wink, as he bent down to Frodo's height to whisper this last.

"Dappah? Wha' a 'dappah' Unga Bee?" Frodo asked toddling after his uncle through the smial to the back door.

"The "GaFFer" is my gardener, Frodo-lad." Bilbo emphasized the "G" and "F" sounds slowly for Frodo's sake. "He takes care of all Uncle Bilbo's flowers and fruits and vegetables. His name is Ham, but everyone calls him "Gaffer Gamgee". Bilbo explained to the hobbit toddler clinging to his hand as they made their way down the slightly dark corridor.

"Gavah Gam-zee." Frodo tried to say the words properly. Then, after a moment of thinking about the Gaffer and his given name, piped up. "Ham! Fwo wike ham! Ham yummy! Habe ham fo' wunch, Unga Bee?" Frodo looked up at his uncle grinning hopefully.

They were just reaching the door as Bilbo chuckled, "We'll see, my lad. We'll see."

The sun was at her zenith, being after all, high noon as the pair stepped outside the back door. Two pairs of Baggins blue eyes squinted in the sudden brightness after the dimness of the hall. Bilbo placed a hand above his eyes and peered about the back garden in search of the Gaffer and spotted him in the far back corner, working over the potatoes, it would appear.

As soon as his eyes had adjusted to the light, Frodo began looking about, fascinated by everything, as only the very young can be. Everywhere his eyes looked, they saw beauty and life and growing things. The fresh smell of the newly upturned earth mingling with the pungent smell of recently trimmed verge delighted his nose, which from his small height was still quite close to the ground. His downy-furred toes, which were still quite soft and sensitive for a hobbit, dug gently into the soft turf.

"Hehe!!" He giggled. "Tah-pet! Dus' wike Unga Bee!" Frodo grinned remembering having called his uncle a carpet earlier that very morning.

Bilbo chuckled at the observation. "Yes, I suppose the turf is rather carpet like - which I am not, dear boy!" The older hobbit said trying to look annoyed, but fooling no one.

Frodo let go his uncle's hand and frolicked upon the turf as much as his inexperienced legs would allow. Walking without assistance was a very recently acquired skill for Frodo and one he was still busy honing to perfection - the skipping and running he was now attempting presented a new challenge still. Bilbo mused that it was a good thing Frodo's little bottom was no further from the ground than it was or it might be quite damaged by the end of a day, what with the number of times the boy lost his balance as he tottered about.

After Frodo had landed on his bottom a half a dozen times or so, Bilbo decide it might be better to take the lad back in hand and stroll him down the little path that wound its way through his back garden. The path was a sensory experience in itself as one traveled its length. Together, Bilbo and the Gaffer had designed it to be so. Carefully they had selected the flowers and plants, shrubs and small trees that would border the walk. Light and shade and fragrance were given as much consideration as color and variety and size. Even early in the spring as it still was, the small, winding path offered many delights to both the eyes and nose.

"Come, Frodo-lad." Bilbo called, extending his hand down to his nephew. "Let's have a walk, hm?"

Frodo managed to only fall once as he covered the short distance across the turf that separated him from his uncle. Bilbo watched him carefully to make sure he hadn't hurt himself but Frodo seemed to be quite accustomed to falling and was very adept at catching himself it seemed. As he picked himself up from the turf, Frodo inspected the heels and palms of his hands that had taken the impact of his latest fall, then brushed them together to dust the grass from them. When his bouncing steps had led him finally back to his uncle his small, plump hand was placed trustingly into Bilbo's and the toddler grinned up at his uncle, eager to see on what kind of adventure he was about to lead him.

Frodo was full of chatter and questions as he and his uncle made their leisurely way down the path. Countless times he stopped to point a small finger and ask, "Wha' dis, Unga Bee?" of this flower or that. Exclamations of "Pwetty!" and "Mmmm! 'Mell dood!" could also be heard at short intervals as he discovered each new delight. At one point along the path, Frodo's small height gave him just the right perspective to see a cocoon, attached securely to a small tree trunk.

"Wook! Wha' is, Unga Bee?" The hobbit toddler asked, his eyes wide, small finger poised just about to poke at the mysterious white blob.

Bilbo caught the little hand just in time. "No-no, lad. Mustn't poke at it. There's a baby butterfly inside!" Bilbo explained, bending down to have a better look.

Frodo gave his uncle a quizzical and nearly skeptical look. "Bebe bu'fwy?" He asked. "'Ou sure, Unga Bee?"

"Yes, lad! I'm quite sure." Bilbo laughed.

Frodo studied this new mystery intently, bending to look at it from every angle. "Why, Unga Bee?" He asked.

"It's a cocoon, dear boy." Bilbo began to explain but was interrupted by more of his nephew's curiosity.

"Tah-toon? Wha' dat?" Frodo asked.

"A CoCoon," Bilbo pronounced each syllable slowly. "Is a kind of blanket a caterpillar spins when it's ready to transform into a butterfly." He explained and was rather proud of how simple he had made it.

Frodo however, was only more confused. "Tattapiwwah in cooooo-cooooon?" Frodo's brows knit together both with his confusion as well as his concentration on trying to pronounce the word correctly. His lips were a perfect "O" shape as he tried with mighty effort to make it come out right.

"Well, yes." Bilbo answered trying hard not to laugh at his nephew’s unintentionally comic expression.

"Bu' 'ou say was bebe bu'fwy?" The toddler said almost accusingly.

"And it is, lad." Bilbo assured him. "Or, at least, it will be when it's finished being all wrapped up." He tried to explain again.

"How, Unga Bee? How tatapiwwah be bu'fwy?" Frodo tried hard to make sense of it all.

Bilbo began to wish his nephew had been a bit taller and might have missed seeing the cocoon. The tried again.

"Well, you see lad, all butterflies start out as caterpillars. Then, when it's time, they spin a web of silk, like you see here and they wrap themselves up in it all nice and snug and settle in for a long, long rest. While the caterpillar is resting all warm and snug inside his silk covering, a kind of magical thing starts to happen, and he changes and grows big, beautiful wings! When he's all done changing into a butterfly, he'll come out of his cocoon and fly away." Bilbo finished his explanation to Frodo, whose eyes were wide and shining.

"Oh." Was the only response Frodo could manage, so enchanted was he with the notion.

He looked for several more moments at the cocoon, then, took his uncle's hand and they started off down the path once more. By and by they came to an outlet in the path that led them up the hill to where the Gaffer was still industriously working over the potatoes.

"Hullo, Gaffer! Beautiful day, eh?" Bilbo called out a greeting.

"Aye! That i'tis, sir!" The Gaffer answered his employer back good-naturedly.

Wiping his hands on a rag he retrieved from a back pocket, the gardener met the pair halfway. Frodo clung tightly to his uncle's hand and stayed close about his leg as the Gaffer approached. When they were face to face, the gardener bent slightly forward toward the toddler.

"And who might this be, Mr. Bilbo, sir. Not my replacement, I hope." The Gaffer joked.

Frodo gazed shyly up through his thick, dark lashes at this jolly man. Perhaps he wasn't someone to be frightened of. Perhaps - but he still held tightly to his uncle's hand.

"Ham Gamgee, this is my nephew, Frodo Baggins. Frodo, this is my gardener, Ham Gamgee. Can you say a proper hello to him, lad?" Bilbo jiggled his nephew's hand gently.

"'Lo Mistah Gam-zee. Fwo Baddins a' 'ou subitice an' 'ou famwy." Frodo bowed and greeted the Gaffer very properly, taking extra pains to try to say the name correctly. He certainly was getting lots of practice at making greetings the way his mother had been teaching him, he thought.

"Why, hullo to you as well, Master Baggins. Very fine to meet you indeed. Welcome to Hobbiton." The Gaffer grinned hugely, clearly impressed at the toddler's very formal greeting.

Frodo grinned shyly up at the Gaffer, then, when the grin was returned in extra measure, he let his eyes drift back to the ground.

"My that's a fine lad you've got there, Mr. Bilbo, sir. Don't know when I've seen such good manners on one s'young. How old is he?" The Gaffer asked as Frodo glowed under the complement.

"Thank you, Ham. I have rather a high opinion of him, myself." Bilbo answered, disentangling his hand from Frodo's so that he could stroke the toddler's head affectionately. The dark curls were warm from the sun and silky under Bilbo's hand. "He's just a little over a year and a half, but smart as one twice that, in my estimation." Bilbo went on, feeling a grin pull his nephew's softly rounded cheek where his hand now rested and gently caressed.

"Aye. Thought as much, and I can see you're right. A smart one he is!" Ham Gamgee grinned down at the toddler who was now grinning openly back at him.

The two adult hobbits then launched into a conversation regarding the planting of the potatoes which interested Frodo not at all. They slowly made their way back up the slope to the potato patch where the potatoey conversation continued in earnest. From his newfound height upon the slope of the hill, Frodo gazed down in wonder at all of Hobbiton spread out before him like one of his mother's patchwork quilts. The labors of spring planting created patches of different shades ranging from sandy brown, to dusky purple, to sweetest tender green. Far off, Frodo could see the glittering shimmer of a windy stream decorating the land like a festive ribbon, and even further off, the little lake into which it fed. Smials and small houses peppered the land, each one sending up a little wisp of smoke from its chimney and occasionally an occupant from its door to scurry about, looking to Frodo like a little ant from his lofty view. Way off, almost further than his eyes could see, misty mountains rose up like a ghostly backdrop, reaching up to meet the blue sky. Frodo wondered what was beyond those mountains.

As Frodo stood gazing out into the distance, something caught his eye in his immediate foreground. Something colorful and swift on delicate wings. A butterfly! Frodo's eyes were danced from here to there as it fluttered about before him, seeming to invite him to follow. It seemed to want to go everywhere, and all at once. Finally, it made up it's mind to light upon a tiny flower that Frodo hadn't noticed before, hidden as it was beneath the blades of grass. Frodo stared in fascination as the beautiful wings beat ever so slowly while the butterfly seemed to be drinking something it found deep within the flower. Slowly Frodo ventured forward to have a closer look. When he stood directly over the butterfly and it made no move to fly away from him, he crouched down on his haunches, studying the creature with his little head cocked to one side. Bilbo, still in the thick of his conversation looked around briefly to see where his nephew had gotten off to and finding him safe in the grass, smiled and turned his full attention back to Ham.

From his now closer range, Frodo could see traces of the caterpillar this butterfly had most surely once been. Inside each of the wings, the body was still long and slender like a caterpillar and even seemed to have a bit of a 'fuzziness' to it. Tiny feelers probed the flower, seeking more of whatever it was drinking. The toddler wondered if the butterfly's 'fur' would feel as soft and wonderfully cool and smooth as Mr. Peeper's had under his hand. Frodo's face was a mask of concentration, his tongue coming out to help, as he slowly extended one finger to touch the tiny creature. The butterfly teased him and let him get within a hair's width before flittering away.

Shocked at the creature's sudden disappearance, Frodo rose from his crouched stance and looked almost wildly about. Where had it gone? Just as he was asking himself the question, the answer fluttered by, right before his face. Clearly this butterfly was playing some kind of game with him and wished to be chased. Frodo stumbled after it, tripping every few feet (and always just at the moment when Frodo thought he had the creature!) as the butterfly led him on a twisting, turning, topsy-turvy chase. Not to be put off that easily however, the pursuing toddler got back up after each and every fall and continued on his quest. After several moments, his determination paid off and the butterfly landed once more, this time upon a thick vine of honeysuckle, heavy with yellow and white blossoms. Perhaps it was tired, Frodo thought. He certainly was. Frodo was close enough to touch once more, and this time, eye to eye with the creature as it clung to the vine that was just at Frodo's head level. Once more, the little finger was extended toward the butterfly, and once more, it found no purchase as the colorful wings batted it away at the last moment. This time however, it did not go very far. Instead of fluttering away to other parts of the garden, the butterfly seemed to find a new perch upon which to rest her wings. She was very tired after being pursued and the tip of her pursuer's nose seemed like as good a place as any to take a breather.

A sharp intake of air was the only response the surprised toddler could manage as the butterfly landed squarely and neatly on the end of his little button of a nose. Frodo's mouth gaped open in his shock and his eyes were huge and staring. He couldn't seem to help himself as each one of his eyes crossed toward the tip of his nose to where the creature perched. Suddenly, it seemed there were not one but two butterflies! From such close range, Frodo could indeed see the tiny hairs that covered the butterfly's body, as well as its beautiful wings. The tiny feelers and eyes, which Frodo now could see, seemed huge. Frodo drew in another sharp breath and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, the creature was still there, but there was only one once more. Butterfly shifted her grip, moving up a little higher on the bridge of Frodo's nose. Her tiny feet felt a bit prickly but did not hurt at she moved. Frodo, on the other hand was so stunned he couldn't move. Seeming to study him as he and been studying her, Butterfly's feelers probed and searched, tickling her subject in the process. Her wings, which seemed to Frodo to be quite huge from his close vantage point, beat slowly, covering his eyes on the down beat, as she felt of first his nose, then his eyebrow. The sensitive feelers felt of each fine and delicate hair, seeming to wonder if it was perhaps another caterpillar of some sort. All this investigating tickled enormously and Frodo giggled in spite of himself, startling the unfortunate Butterfly. As quickly as she had landed, she took off again.

A tiny cry escaped Frodo's lips as she lifted off. "Wai'! Tome bag, Bu'fwy!" He called, following her flitting, fluttering motions with his eyes. Toward the honeysuckle vine she flew and Frodo thought she would light there again, but she fluttered up and over it instead. Through the trees she went and before Frodo could think about what he was doing, he followed her, pressing his way through the vine and between the hedges it had draped itself over. This took quite a bit of maneuvering as the space between the hedges was quite narrow and if Frodo had been one bit bigger, he wouldn't have gotten through. Frodo didn't even notice when his coat caught upon a branch and pulled off his back somewhere along the way, so intent was he on finding Butterfly once more.

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Bilbo and the gaffer had exhausted the topic of potatoes and moved on to the possibility of milk-feeding pumpkins later on in the season when Bilbo discovered his nephew missing. It had only been a moment ago that he had last seen the lad, crouched in the grass, inspecting something he'd found there. Now however, as he looked back to the same spot, Frodo was no where to be found.

"Ham, do you see my lad anywhere about?" Bilbo interrupted his gardener's description of the milk-feeding process and expected results, as he began to turn about the yard, searching with his eyes for any sign of his nephew's whereabouts.

The gardener joined his employer in the visual sweep of the immediate area. "No, now that you say, I don't, I"m afraid." Ham Gamgee declared. "Don't worry, though. Lad couldn't 'a gotten far. He was right there not more'n a minute ago." The Gaffer said comfortingly and gestured toward the area where Frodo had been crouched such a short while ago.

"Yes. Surely you're right." Bilbo sounded about as sure as he felt.

"He must be around here somewhere close. Those little legs'a his couldn't 'a carried him too far." The Gaffer said, again seeing his employer's distress. "Let's just walk about a bit and call for him and he's bound to turn up quick. You take the left side'a the garden; I'll take the right. Just holler when you find 'im."

Bilbo nodded agreement and set off toward the left as the Gaffer had suggested calling his nephew's name and looking about behind trees and bushes. On the other side of the garden, he could hear the gaffer doing the same.

"Frodo-lad! Fro-DO!" Bilbo called. "Where are you, lad? Please answer Uncle Bilbo."

Bilbo had covered nearly the entire left end of the garden and was on the edge of panic when he finally spotted it. At first, it blended in with the white and yellow blossoms of the honeysuckle vine, but as he moved toward it and the sun caught it, the tiny silver stars glinted at him like a beacon. Bilbo ran the last few steps to where he had spotted what looked suspiciously like Frodo's jacket sleeve caught upon the hedge.

"Ham!" Bilbo yelled across the garden. "Ham, I think I've found something."

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Under cover of the trees, it was quite a bit dimmer and cooler than it had been in the garden and Frodo squinted to spot his new friend. He wandered around a bit, circling this tree and that, tripping occasionally on the tree roots that seemed to have been scattered about just for that purpose. Finally, in a patch of sunshine, lit upon a small white blossom, Frodo spotted Butterfly. As quickly as his little legs would carry him, he made his way to where she was.

"Bu'fwy! Why 'ou fwy 'way?" He scolded.

No reply but the steady, soft beat of her wings.

Just as Frodo got close enough to gather her up on his finger, she fluttered off again. This time he kept his eyes on her the whole way, giving chase as best as he could with all those tree roots in the way. Before he knew it though, Frodo ran out of trees. That is, he came to the edge of the small wood he had been in and stepped out into clear sunshine once more. There was long cool grass beneath his feet so thick that the morning's dew still had not burned completely off and it felt damp as he tread upon it. Below him, down a small slope, the twisting road was stretched out, heading to who knew where.

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"The lad's coat." Gaffer Gamgee declared as he drew up to where his employer was disentangling it from vines and branches. "Well, he can't be far separated from it. Reckon he's on the other side'a these hedges?" The gardener asked.

"I wondered that myself, Ham, but I don't see how anyone, even one so small as Frodo could have gotten between this hedgerow." Bilbo answered looking perplexedly at the hedges.

To Bilbo's surprise, Ham Gamgee laughed. "Begging your pardon, sir, but if there's one thing I've learned with havin' a little'un in the house it's that they can get into some places you'd never think they could and faster than you'd believe, too! I still find little Hamson in some of the durnedest places you can think of - and him a big boy of three now!"

"You think so?" Bilbo asked still looking at the hedge and wondering how so much as a cat could slip through.

"Think it'd be worth havin' a look, any row." The gaffer grinned slightly.

"Well, what's the quickest way in? I don't think I'll be going in the same way Frodo did!" Bilbo said looking at the tiny opening.

"There's a small space up in the back corner where one'a the hedges didn't take off when I transplanted 'em. I think we can squeeze through there." The gaffer gestured toward the opening he was referring to.

"Well let's go then. My lad's in there somewhere - and from the looks of it, without his coat." Bilbo's heart was in his eyes as he clutched the little garment and strode determinedly toward the opening in the hedgerow.

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Butterfly flittered around his head for a moment, seeming to dance and play. Frodo thought she might light on his nose again, but she took off so quickly, and soared so high, he could hardly keep his eyes on her. Butterfly couldn't seem to decide exactly which way to go and for a moment, Frodo watched her simply flutter back and forth above him. He reached his hands as high as he could, trying desperately to touch her and draw her back to him, but even if he had been a hobbit full-grown, he wouldn't have had the needed height.

"Bu'fwy! Wai'! No fwy 'way! 'Tay heah!" Frodo called to her.

In seeming answer to his call, Butterfly dropped down once more, bobbing and swaying before Frodo's face. She studied him for another moment, watching his eyes light up and crinkle at the edges when his smile came. Then, as quickly as she had come, she was gone again, soaring out over the grassy slope and above the dusty road beyond toward the misted mountains in the far distance. Butterfly was already too far to hear him as he called out to her again, running after her on his inexperienced small feet, down the dew slick slope.

Frodo was thinking of nothing but Butterfly as he took off after her. He was only a few steps into his chase when his right foot slide ahead of him on a patch of the dewy grass, his left tried hard to catch him, but it was his left knee that actually took the impact of the fall. Frodo didn't even have time to register the pain of his full weight coming down all on one small knee as, being a bit 'top-heavy' as most toddlers are, he further lost his balance and began toppling forward, head-first, torso and lower limbs following, down the hill, into the grass. Again and again he tried to use his hands and arms to catch himself, but he was caught, inescapably in the force of plain old gravity. Even if he had had the skills to count, he couldn't have named the number of times he flipped before finally coming over the edge of the bank and landing squarely on his back with a "thud" in the middle of the well packed earth of the road.

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Bilbo and the gaffer wandered about in the dimness of the small wood for a good while before deciding that if Frodo had been here at all, he wasn't here now. Bilbo saw a few places where leaves had been disturbed that could have been evidence of his nephew's recent visit, but it could have just as easily been from a rabbit or squirrel or other small woodland creature. If Frodo had been here, clearly he had either found his way back out and was now somewhere alone and probably frightened or, even worse to Bilbo's mind, had wandered even further into the dimness of the wood. Bilbo eyed the thick undergrowth that dominated the interior of the wood, searching for signs of his nephew. Silently, he and Ham began poking and prodding at the thick crop of weeds looking for anything that might lend them a clue. Nothing was to be found. Not a hair, not a stray thread, not even a tiny footprint gave away the whereabouts of the missing child.

After exhausting the undergrowth in the immediate area and finding nothing, Ham turned his eyes toward the direction of the road.

"Mayhap he didn't go further into the woods a'tall, Mr. Bilbo. Could be he went out that'a way." He said, pointing in the direction of the road, and where he knew the wood came to an end.

"Exactly what I was thinking." Bilbo said soberly. "Let's go."

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For a moment, he just lay there, too stunned to move, to breathless to cry. He looked up at the big, blue sky, watching carefully to see if it would stay where it was, as seconds earlier it had shone itself, only to be replaced with grass and rocks and sticks in the next instance. After several seconds of the world staying still, Frodo decided that perhaps it was safe to try drawing a breath and as soon as he had, he began to whimper softly. It was all he could manage at first, with all his wind knocked out as it was. But as he regained control and filled his lungs, the whimper became a real cry with real tears that rolled from his eyes down the sides of his cheeks into his ears and hair as he lay on his back upon the road. As he lay there crying, he took stock of himself and discovered that many parts of his body hurt, but more than that, he was scared. And, he suddenly noticed, he seemed to have lost his coat somewhere along the way and now he was truly missing it as the spring wind blew chill upon his skin, now damp from the dewy grass he had tumbled through.

Slowly, Frodo sat up and blinked several times as the world seemed to rock and sway and movement sent little slivers of pain in places that hadn't felt it before. He had never been in such a situation as this. As he looked frantically around him, he realized he didn't know where he was nor how to get back to any familiar place. Though he had been on that same road just several hours ago, Frodo had been asleep in his mothers arms when they had arrived and so, he had no memory before waking up in his Uncle's den. He was lost. Frodo sobbed deeper at the thought. He was also aware suddenly of how very alone he was. The only sounds he could hear were his own sobs. The longer he sat crying, the more frightened he became. What if he was never found, he wondered wildly. Or worse, what if he who ever did find him was a terrible person who did not like little hobbit boys - especially ones who wandered away as he had done. Suddenly, Frodo felt very naughty. He hadn't meant to be, of course. He had only meant to catch Butterfly. She was very far away from here now he supposed. Frodo sobbed all the harder.

Suddenly, the rhythm of his crying was broken by a sound coming toward him. He stopped crying as best he could, scrubbing at his teary eyes with the backs of his small, dirty fists. He held his breath as he listened. Footsteps! Coming right for him, from down the road. As scared as he was of being lost and alone, he was even more scared of whoever that might be coming in his direction. So he scrambled up as quickly as he could and looked around for some place he could hide. The best he could find on this empty road was the ditch he had tumbled over on his way down. Quickly he scrambled into it and tried to hide himself behind a patch of grass as best he could.

"Well, I know I heard crying coming from this direction, didn't you Hamson?" A woman's voice approached.

A voice, belonging to a child answered her back. "Yes, Mumma. Me, too."

Before Frodo could wonder who they were, they were standing right in front of where he was (he hoped!) hidden. It was a woman and a small hobbit boy and they looked around and down the road as they tried to work out from where and whom the crying had come.

"Hmph!" The woman huffed. "I declare, you 'n me both must be a bit off our nuts today, Ham. There's no one here. Come on then, I've got to get that laundry hung as I came out intenedin' to do." She said to the small boy beside her who simply looked up at her and made to follow her as she turned on her heel to go.

Just when Frodo thought he had escaped discovery, the boy suddenly stopped and pointed right to where Frodo was hiding. "Look, Mum! The grass has eyes! Blue ones!" He declared.

The woman stopped and stooped to peer down to where her son was pointing. Sure enough when Bell Gamgee brushed back the stems of grass growing along the edge of the ditch she was confronted by a pair of enormous, frightened blue eyes, very bright and shining with tears.

"Oh, my!" Bell drew in a sharp breath as the tiny hobbit lad tried in vain to back up from her, but was stopped by the bank behind him.

Her own small boy had come to stand at her side, peeking around the bulk of her skirts to what kind of a creature she had found. It was a baby! It's face was dirty and it looked like he always did after he'd been crying with red eyes and streaks of tears. The dark hair it had on it's head was rumpled, even for a hobbit and it had pieces of grass and sticks poking out of it at odd directions. The little thing was croutched down low and it looked very frightened as it peered up at them through it's long, damp eyelashes. It, or Ham decided looking at the way it was dressed, 'he' seemed to be trying to croutch down even smaller as they continued to look at him. The baby trembled and Ham saw that one of his little elbows was bleeding a bit.

"Oh! I think it's hurt, mum!" Ham said, pointing at the small wound.

"I see. Don't point, Hamsom. 'Tisn't polite." She said in a very calm voice as she knelt down before the little one who was still making an attempt at hiding, pulling at the blades of grass with his small, grubby fingers to better cover himself.

"Now, then." Bell Gamgee said gently. "Who might you be, little one? Where did you come from, hm?" Her voice was extra soft as she spoke to the child who was obviously frightened and from the looks of it, at least a little bit injured.

Frodo's chest hitched as he tried to hold back a sob. Other than that, Bell got no answer.

"My name's Bell and this is my son Hamson." She said, reaching to pick up the toddler. She half expected the lad to protest in his fright, but he said nothing, only trembled harder as she lifted him gently from the ditch. "Come on, now." She continued talking in her soft, soothing voice. "Come along, Hamson." She said to the child at her side who followed obediently.

All the way back to Number Three Bell Gamgee spoke quietly to the little one in her arms, seeking to comfort and sooth his obvious distress. He gazed at her with stunned, unsure eyes and said nothing beyond the occasional hiccupping sob.

Frodo studied her closely as she spoke and carried him - somewhere. She was soft as his body was held against hers and she wore her hair somewhat like Mummy did. The eyes she turned on him were gentle and kind. Perhaps she didn't mean to harm him after all. He was so weary and worn and sore from his fall that he laid his head against her shoulder in spite of himself.

"Aww! Poor darling lamb!" Bell crooned, hugging him gently and rubbing the small back. "Poor, poor little lad." She said and did not stop him when the boy's little thumb found its way to his mouth. He was trying to comfort himself and she wasn't about to stop him - no matter how grubby the thumb was.

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Bilbo and his gardener stooped and ducked to avoid the low branches of trees. They also had to keep their eyes sharply upon the ground as tree roots and broken twigs were scattered about so as to seem intent on tripping a hobbit. Finally, they came to the edge of the wood and the grassy clearing that lead down to the road. Nothing. At least, no hobbit lad was to be found here.

The two hobbits looked carefully about them, taking in any clues their surroundings might hold.

"Look'a there, Mr. Bilbo, sir!" Ham said excitedly as he pointed at the recently trod upon dewy grass.

"Someone's definitely been here recently - and it would nearly have to be my lad. But where is he now?" Bilbo asked looking worriedly down the long and winding road.

"One way to find out, sir. Mayhap he made it down the slope then found 'es way back to Bag End. Tell ye what. Why don't you go back to Bag End and see if he might'a went back there, an' I'll go th'other way an' see if anybody in that direction may'a seen 'im." The Gaffer instructed.

Being that Bilbo could think of no better plan, he did as Ham suggested and making his way down the slippery slope and turned his feet back toward Bag End with a heavy heart.
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By the time they got back to Number Three, Frodo's eyelids were drooping and Bell was sure the only thing keeping him awake were the occasional hiccups brought on by all his crying. Entering the smial, Bell passed through the dimness of the front room and right into the much brighter, airy kitchen. The little lad in her arms seemed cold and damp and the kitchen was always warmer than the rest of the house.

"Ham, could you go get a clean towel outt'a the pantry for Mum, please." Bell asked and watched her son hurry off to do just that.

When he brought it back to her, she spread it out upon the kitchen table and sat the drowsy toddler down on top of it. Instantly he was wide awake once more and taking in his surroundings with his big, worried eyes.

"It's all right, darling. No one's going to harm you. We're just going to take care of you and try to figure out where you belong, all right?" She asked.

Frodo nodded and hiccupped again. At least she knew he understood her. Now if he could just talk and tell her who he was and who he belonged to. She most certainly didn't recognize the lad as any of her neighbor's children. Was he abandoned by someone? Bell found it hard to believe that anyone would willingly let go of a baby as lovely as this one. The child was beautiful, despite the tear-streaked face and rumpled hair and clothes. But who had let him out to be lost - and without so much as a coat on a windy day like today! Bell certainly did think she might have a word or two to say to whom ever it was who was so careless with their child.

Bell's hands were gentle as she began looking over the baby's little body.

"Is 'e all right mum? 'E's not bad 'urt is 'e?" Hamson asked worriedly, his eyes barely able to peer above the table at the little lad they had found.

"I don't think he's too bad, but I aim to find out for sure." Bell winked at her son.

"Can we keep 'im, do ye think?" Ham asked. He had been wishing lately that he had a baby brother or sister to play with. This one seemed like a fine enough choice.

"Well I should think his family would have a thing or two to say about it if we did!" Bell answered. "I think they'll be wanting him back, Hamson. They're probably frantic looking for him right now."

Ham thought for a moment. "If they don't want 'im back can we keep 'im?" The child asked, smiling at the baby on the table who was still looking more than a little frightened.

"If they don't want him, I think we best to cross that bridge when we come to it." Bell smiled at her son.

Gently Ham held between two fingers one of the little pink toes that were curled against the pads of the tiniest foot he'd ever seen on a hobbit. It was soft too. He ran his fingers through the downy hair on the tops of the diminutive feet.

"Oh, mum! He's got some scratches on the tops of his feet as well." Ham cried.

"I know son, I saw them. They're not to serious, though." Bell answered, continuing her examination.

His elbow was bleeding a bit just as Ham had said, but the cut didn't seem to be deep or serious, more of a scrape or scrub, really. His left knee was sporting a similar injury. Bell gently unbuttoned his shirt and felt gently of the little ribs and collarbones, but, to her relief found injuries no more serious than bruises. Quickly she dressed him again as cold chills had risen on his skin as soon as she had undressed him. She didn't want the boy getting a chill on top of everything else.

"Well, it looks like you'll be all right. Nothing seems broken, any road." Bell tried to sound cheerful. "Now, can you tell me your mum's name, little one? I'm sure she must be missing you by now.

Frodo looked at the woman who so far had been only kind to him. Maybe he could risk speaking to her. He thought about her question. Mum's name? Mum's name? Why, she was only...

"Mum-mee!" Frodo said, his voice small and unsure.

Bell looked at him and smiled. Well, of course! Children didn't call their mums and dads by their given names and one as small as this child clearly was wouldn't even know his mum had a name other than "Mummy", in all likelihood.

"Oh! Dear me! What was I thinking? Of course!" Bell said, laughing at herself. She tried a different question. "Do you know where your mummy is, child?"

"Pah-dee" Frodo said.

Bell looked quizzical for a moment, trying to work out what he could mean. She turned the syllables over and over in her mind. Finally it came to her what he was trying to say. Party. His mum had gone to a party. Bell glowered inside. This child's mother had gone to a party and left him all alone?!? What was Middle Earth coming to, she wondered?

"You're mummy's gone to a party?" She asked, not letting her emotion show on her face.

Frodo nodded.

"Did she leave you behind at home alone?" Bell asked, barely able to conceal her growing anger at this clearly negligent mother.

"No - 'tay wiv Unga Bee!" Frodo answered shaking his head.

Bell's mind ran in circles as she tried to solve this new riddle. She ran down the list of both her near neighbors and far and could come up with no name that sounded remotely like "Ungabee". Oh, dear. This might be harder than she thought.

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Bilbo ran to the front door of Bag End and turned the knob. Drat it! He had locked it in order to keep Frodo in - and now it was keeping him out. Not to be outsmarted by a door lock, Bilbo made his way around to the garden gate and let himself in. He gave the back garden another cursory visual sweep before entering through the back door. Not even giving his eyes time to adjust to the dimness within, Bilbo sat about looking for any signs of Frodo. He called out his name, running from room to room, looking in places he didn't even think Frodo could or would go - for he had learned at least one thing of hobbit toddlers this afternoon.
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The Gaffer burst through the door of Number Three calling out his wife's name. His walk down the road in the opposite direction of Bag End had turned up nothing. It was as if the child had simply...disappeared.

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As Bilbo was searching the smial, including closets and pantries and under beds, a thought occurred to him. A terrible thought. Suppose Frodo had found the Ring. Suppose he had found it and put it on! They'd never find him if that was the case. Hurriedly Bilbo ran to his study and the desk drawer where he always kept the ring. He was nearly afraid to open it for fear he would find it missing. He argued with himself over the possibility of the idea. Surely Frodo wouldn't have managed to climb upon the high chair to get to the drawer and the Ring. On the other hand, Bilbo wouldn't have thought he could have slipped through the garden hedge either, but he clearly had. Determinedly Bilbo pulled open the drawer, sighing with relief as the Ring glinted up at him.

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"Bell! Bell!" The Gaffer called.

"I'm in here, Ham! In the kitchen." Bell called to her husband. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he saw what she'd found.

She heard his steps moving nearer, heavy and hurried they sounded.

"Bell, there's a child missin'. It's Mr. Bilbo's nephew and -" Ham Gamgee drew up short as he entered the kitchen and saw the toddler sitting atop his table being tended to by his own wife.

"Does 'e look anythin' like this, then?" Bell asked, grinning at her husband's bemused expression.

"Frodo! By crackin'! Bilbo's nigh worried sick about you, lad! He'll be happy to see you safe, I can tell you that." Ham exclaimed coming over to have a better look at the lad. "He is alright, ain't 'e, Bell. Bilbo'd go all to pieces were anything the matter with him."

Hearing his Uncle's name, Frodo called out excitedly. "Unga Bee! Pwease! Unga Bee!"

Ah! So that's who "Ungabee" was, Bell thought, then answered her husband's question. "Oh, I expect he's all right mostly. Got a few cuts and bruises here and there. Took a tumble down the slope from the looks'a things. Nothing serious, though, thank goodness." Bell said, stroking the still dirty, tear streaked cheek gently. "Nothing a good bath and a bit'a pettin' and pamperin' won't take care of."

"Well thank the lucky stars! Let's get 'im back to his rightful owner, then." Ham said, reaching to take the lad, but fell short as his wife who smiled at him mischeviously lifted the toddler.

"I expect t'was me as found 'im. Let me be the one to get the satisfaction 'a givin' 'im back." She laughed, drawing the little one into her arms again and wrapping the toweling around him like a blanket.

A small voice and pull at her skirt stopped her exit from the kitchen. "Does this mean we don't get to keep him then?" Hamson asked, his eyes and voice sorrowful.

"Yes, son. I'm afraid it does. But don't you worry. You're baby brother or sister will come along soon enough. And more than you bargain for, I'll wager!" Bell grinned and winked at her little boy who was playing with the baby's foot once more.

He sighed. "All right then. But you and Da gotta get me one soon! I'll be all grown up and too old to play soon!" The boy declared.

Everyone but Hamson and Frodo were laughing as they left to take Frodo back to the one to whom he belonged.

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Bilbo lit the candle then began his descent into the cellar. The exterior door he had found was still latched, but as his nephew had turned up nowhere else, he was forced to consider the possibility. The steps were steep and narrow and a bit un-even in places. His heart clenched at the thought of Frodo trying to maneuver them on his unsteady little legs. He half feared finding the babe at the bottom, twisted and broken from a fall.

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The Gamgee family made their way back to Bag End in short order, thinking of the anguish Mr. Bilbo must be going through not knowing where his nephew was. They knocked at he front door, but no answer came, and thinking to simply go in (for Bell said the baby needed to have his wounds cleaned soon before the dirt set up an infection), they turned the knob, but found it locked. Through the garden gate they went, and in the smial through the back door. Entering, they began immediately to call out to Bilbo as they made their way down the dim corridor.

"Mr. Bilbo?" The Gaffer called.

His call was immediately answered, though it sounded faint and far away. "Gaffer? Is that you?" Bilbo called back.

Before the gardener could answer, Frodo on hearing his uncle's voice called out frantically. "Unga Bee?!? Unga Bee!!"

"Frodo?!?" Bilbo's voice came up to them from the cellar.

"Unga Bee! Un-ga BEE!!" Frodo yelled as loud as he could, looking about wildly to find his uncle.

The group, which had by this point made its way to the kitchen waited and listened. Shortly they heard a small crash, and then the sound of running feet. "Frodo-lad! I'm coming, my boy! I'm coming!" Bilbo called breathlessly as he ran up the cellar steps.

Frodo bounced precariously in Bell's arms as he continued yelling. "Unga Bee! Unga Bee! Wheah 'ou at?"

Bilbo burst through the cellar door (which was located inside the pantry), and made his hasty way through the pantry and into the kitchen.

Upon seeing his uncle, Frodo began to cry once more, holding out his arms toward him and leaning his body to be received as his Bilbo neared him. It was hard to say who was more eager for the reunion as Bilbo ran to Bell and caught the baby up in his arms, hugging him close.

"Frodo! Ah, my little lad! My Frodo! You're safe!" He cried closing his eyes pressing kisses into his nephew's hair as he held him tightly to him.

Frodo continued to cry from both the excitement as well as relief.

"I was so worried for you!" Bilbo exclaimed pulling back a bit to look at Frodo. "So afraid something terrible might have happened. I'm so glad you're safe. Oh! Frodo." Bilbo's face was stern now. "Lad! Don't ever scare Uncle Bilbo like that again." He said, then added softly. "My heart can't take it." Frodo was caught up in a tight embrace once more.

"Me towwy, Unga Bee! Bu'fwy fwy 'way! Dot wost!" Frodo cried, burying his face in Bilbo's neck. "Me no do a'din! Me towwy Unga Bee." The baby was weeping once more.

Bilbo immediately regretted his stern tone earlier as his heart was broken by the apology.

"Oh, no! No! No! Shhh!" He crooned gently, planting kisses on the soft little neck. "I'm sorry, Frodo-lad. It's Uncle Bilbo's fault. He should have been watching you more closely. Shhh, now. It's all right. You're here now and no harm's done, thank goodness." Bilbo comforted, cuddling him close.

Frodo continued to cry but it was softer now as his flooding emotions began to ebb.

"Mr. Bilbo, sir." Bell interrupted softly. "The child is all right, but he does have a few bumps and cuts that'll need seeing after. Do you need some help, do you think?"

"Oh, dear. I was so relieved at having Frodo found, I didn't even think to really look at him. Nothing serious, you say?" Bilbo asked worriedly.

"Nah. Leastwise, nothing a good cleansing and a bit of petting and attention won't take care of. Just scrapes and bruises mostly. I'll help if you think you need it." She offered.

"Thank you, Bell. I think I can manage though." Bilbo answered.

"Well, we best to be going then and let you get to seeing about him, then." She smiled. "Come along, Hamson."

"Coming, Mum." he answered, looking a bit regretfully at the baby in Bilbo's arms. He hoped his Mum and Da would get him that baby brother or sister soon.

"I don't believe I've said, thank you - for finding him and bringing him back I mean." Bilbo suddenly remembered.

Bell simply smiled. "Twas no trouble a'tall, Mr. Bilbo, sir. 'Twas my pleasure." She said, running a light hand over the baby's dirty but silky cheek. "Pleased to meet you little one. Come back and see us soon, now." Bell smiled softly.

Bilbo whispered something to Frodo, who suddenly lifted his head and smiled back. Waving one small hand he called out to Bell. "Tank 'ou, Miz-uz Beww! Bye-bye!" He waved.

"Bye-bye, darling!" She grinned hugely.

With that, the Gamgees were gone.

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"Now then, lad. Let's see what kinds of things that hillside did to my Frodo, hm?" Bilbo smiled gently at his nephew who was now sitting on the kitchen table on another clean towel, a basin of water beside him and a small arsenal of herbs and medicines from Bilbo's pantry beside that.

Gently Bilbo undressed the toddler, down to just his small-clothes and began to inspect his little patient. Head to toe Bilbo worked, looking for any injuries that might need addressing. With warm water, a bit of mild soap, a soft cloth and a very gently hand, Bilbo set about un-earthing his nephew's face, which was still streaked with dirt and tears. He was relieved to find only one small bruise just beneath Frodo's hairline. It didn't look bad, so he decided to just leave it alone.

As his uncle worked, Frodo began telling him all about "Bu'fwy" and how he had come to be lost. The tale was just winding down as Bilbo had finished his cleaning and tending. Frodo had submitted to having his "boo-boos" tended as well as could be expected, though he had come to dread the disinfecting agent his uncle insisted must be applied to any areas that had a scrape, cut or scratch.

"There! That's good enough for now, I expect." Bilbo declared. "Though, we'll give you a real, proper bath in a tub later on. I suspect you might find a bit more dirt and grime to get into before bed-time." He grinned.

Frodo had begun to shiver slightly sitting as he was in near nakedness. Hastily Bilbo wrapped a clean towel around him and, mindful of his many boo-boos, picked him up gently and carried him back to the parlor by the by the fireplace where a fire was blazing merrily.

"We can get you dressed shortly. Let's just warm you by the fire for now, hm?" Bilbo asked.

Frodo leaned close to his uncle's chest, the heat of the fire feeling good on his naked skin. He drew his arms under him and against his Uncle's chest so that they could be warm too.

"Here we go lad. Let's wrap you up all tight, shall we?" Bilbo asked, securing the thick towel around his little lad. "All tight like a cocoon!" He smiled at his nephew who grinned drowsily back.

Frodo did look rather cocoon-like wrapped tightly in the white towel. He yawned hugely, gazing dreamily into the dancing flames.

"Unga Bee?" He asked softly.

"Yes, my lad?" Bilbo answered.

"Will my coooo-coooon ma'e me gwow wings?" The toddler asked seriously.

Bilbo grinned softly. "I don't know, lad. Do you want it too?" he asked, wrapping his arms tightly around his sleepy nephew and leaning back in the chair.

"No. No wan' wings." He said.

"No? You don't want wings? It might be exciting to have wings." Bilbo pointed out.

"Bu', bu'fwy fwy 'way." Frodo answered simply.

"And you wouldn't want to fly away?" Bilbo asked, idly stroking the silky dark curls at his nephew’s nape.

"No. No fwy 'way. 'Tay!" Frodo yawned again.

"Not quite ready to be a butterfly and fly away just yet, hm?" His uncle asked as he watched the eyelids droop.

"No. 'Tay heah." Frodo's eyes were barely open, his voice growing fainter and fainter. "Be Unga Bee's tattapiwwah fo' now." And with that, he was asleep, wrapped in his "coooo-coooon" in the safety of his uncle's arms.

Bilbo chuckled softly and hugged his sleeping nephew tighter.

"One day, lad." He whispered. "You will want wings. But for now, I'm glad to have my little caterpillar."

Bilbo put his own weary feet up on the ottoman by the fire, dropping off into dreams where he and his nephew soared and adventured together on bright, beautiful butterfly wings.

/TBC