Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all its peoples belong to the Tolkien Estate. I own none of them. Some of them, however, seem to own me.

A PLACE FOR GANDALF

Trewsday, 29 Solmath, S.R. 1389

Bilbo looked at the letter that had just arrived in the post, feeling quite excited at the sight of the simple “G” rune with which it was sealed, and the old-fashioned hand in which it was addressed. Gandalf was an infrequent correspondent, and his letters always a treat for the old hobbit.

He put it into his jacket pocket, and went into the kitchen to fix himself a cup of tea, and maybe a sandwich, so he could enjoy the letter at his leisure. It was a bit late for elevenses, but it was early for luncheon. Maybe a bit of seedcake to go with the sandwich, and a little cheese--

A short while later, he sat, the remains of his meal before him, thoughtfully tapping the letter against the tabletop. Perhaps it was time to put into motion a plan he had been considering for quite some time. He got up and stuck his head out the kitchen door. He could see his gardener busily turning under the winter mulch, in preparation for spring planting in a few weeks.

“Master Hamfast!” he called.

“Yes, Mr. Bilbo?” The Gaffer put down his spading fork and turned to see what his master wanted.

“I’m thinking of doing some renovations to Bag End, and I was wondering if you might know of someone reliable to oversee the work for me.”

“Aye, Mr. Bilbo. My Bell’s brother, Halfred, what we named our second lad for, he’s done work of that sort before; and right well, though he is family, and I say it as shouldn’t.”

“Well, if it is true, Master Hamfast, then you should indeed say it. Having a high opinion of your Bell, I am sure to have quite a high opinion of her brother as well. If you would, ask him to stop round tomorrow, so that I can tell him what I have in mind. And before you leave today, I’ll have a letter for you to drop at the Post Office for me, if you don’t mind.”

Bilbo went back in humming a little tune he had been fond of since his travels long ago. It was unusual for Gandalf to let him know in advance when he was planning to visit. Usually the wizard simply turned up without a by-your-leave.

But perhaps because he was bringing Balin with him this time, he had written to say they would come by in the spring. Perhaps Gandalf remembered how Bilbo felt about unannounced Dwarves from the last time. Well, it was high time for a visit. It must be three years at least since the last one.

Now, for that letter to Bree.

____________________________________________________

Hensday, 7 Rethe S.R. 1389

Bilbo stood in the passageway, looking over the room, where the workers were busily digging. He quickly dodged to one side, as one of them came out with another barrowload of earth. Then he stuck his head in.

“Master Halfred, how is it coming?”

“Very well, indeed, I’d say Mr. Baggins. We will have the room lowered by the end of the day, and tomorrow we will start leveling it for the new floor. You’re going to have some mighty high ceilings in here when this here room is done.”

Just then he heard an insistent rapping on his front door. “Oh bother! Who could that be?” he muttered, as he went to open it.

“Lobelia,” he said flatly. Bother the female, what did she want?”

“So, Cousin Bilbo, I see that the rumor is true,” she sneered as she stepped uninvited into the smial.

“And what rumor is that?” he said , even though he knew he didn’t want to hear her answer.

“Why, that you are making totally uncalled for changes to Bag End! That you are simply ruining this beautiful smial for no good reason!” She gave a start as the hobbit who had gone out to empty his barrow returned. Even though he did not pass that closely to her, she made a great show of brushing off her skirts.

“Bag End” said Bilbo repressively, “is my hole to do with as I wish, and it is no one else’s business what I do to it.”

“Bag End, is of course, yours. But you ought to keep in mind that someday it will belong to others, and you should keep the value of the property up for their sake. It isn’t wise to make changes that might lower the value of a property.”

Bilbo’s face grew red. “And of course, you have those others in mind!”

She smiled nastily. “It’s not like you have anyone else to leave it to!”

“Lobelia, I will pull this hole down over my head before I allow the Sackville-Baggins to have it. You have my word on that!”

“As I said Bilbo, you will find it is not as easy to disinherit your heirs as you seem to think.” She snapped her fingers in his face, and turned to march down the walk.

That does it, thought Bilbo. I’m going to see my lawyer after lunch, and whatever it takes, I will find a way to disinherit those pests,

_______________________________________________________

“…and so, Mr. Grubb, you can see I am quite dissatisfied with the one who is my obvious heir. Actually, I have been ever since I returned from my travels and found them behaving like a flock of vultures.”

“Well, Mr. Baggins,--”

“I know! I know! Entirely my own fault for not making my intentions clear ahead of time. Except I didn’t have one. An ‘ahead of time’ I mean. Went off without so much as a pocket-handkerchief; certainly no time to mess about with a will.”

Grubb smiled. He was quite used to the Baggins’ verbal eccentricities after all these years.

“I will give you my best advice, remember however, it is not so clear cut but that it cannot be disputed.”

“I understand that. Just get on with it,” said Bilbo impatiently.

“In order to disinherit one in the clear line of inheritance, you must have another heir. But it cannot be just anybody, especially as you are Head of the Family. It must be a male relative, whom you adopt before he comes of age. He must be close--at the very least descended of a common great-grandfather, and of the same last name. If there is one who fits this criteria, he may become the heir of all your properties. It is less clear whether he would inherit the headship of the family.* In the East Farthing and North Farthing, that would usually be accepted; however, in the South and West Farthings, the headship might still go to the closer relative, even if disinherited. This is a very unclear area.”

Bilbo felt a chill run down his spine. This description fit one person, and one person only--the very person he would wish to be his heir if it were possible. As though it were fate. And now it looked as though it might be. “If there were a dispute, then how would it be settled?”

“Since it involves the headship of a family, it would usually go to the Thain for settlement. However, because of your Tookish connections, it might be deferred to the Master of Buckland.”

“What if there were also a Brandybuck connection?”

“Ah. I see the way your mind is running. Most suitable, I must say. Well, in that event, it would probably end up with the Thain and the Master and the Mayor of the Shire in order to insure impartiality.”

And I can see Will Whitfoot going against the Thain and the Master, thought Bilbo. He chuckled. Otho and Lobelia were in for a very nasty surprise.

____________________________________________________

* From The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter #214 

Author's note: Frodo is 20, Merry 7 (the equivalent of 13 and 4 1/2 to 5 in Man Years).

Highday, 9 Rethe S.R. 1389

Frodo looked with shining eyes at the letter from his cousin Bilbo. His favorite Baggins relation had written, asking him to put forward his visit to Hobbiton. He usually did not go until nearer the end of Rethe, for his annual spring visit. But this year, Uncle Bilbo wanted him as soon as possible.

“Uncle Saradoc!” he called for his older cousin, who had been his guardian among the Brandybucks since he was twelve. “Uncle Sara!”

“Yes, Frodo. I’m in here in the sitting room.” Frodo went in and found him there with his Aunt Esme and little cousin Merry, who had recently turned seven. In his exuberance he caught Merry up, and swung him high in the air, making the little one squeal with laughter.

“I see you read your letter from Bilbo,” his cousin said. “I had one, too. Seems Bilbo is pining for your company. Since we’ll be making our visit to Tookland in a few days, we’ll just drop you at Bag End along the way. I know Merry will not be happy to be separated from you any sooner than he must.” Saradoc tried to keep the misgivings out of his voice. His letter from Bilbo had contained a bit more information than the old hobbit had shared with Frodo. If Bilbo decided to go through with this, little Merry was going to be devastated. That was one thing he planned to take up with the old hobbit. There must be plenty of visits if he did this. It would not be fair to keep Frodo and Merry apart for long. No one knew better than he just how important they were to one another.

Saradoc left the lads playing with his wife, and slipped down to see his father in the Master’s study, taking Bilbo’s letter with him.

Rory read the letter through several times. “You’ve known this day would come for many years, son. Bilbo is the lad’s primary guardian, you are only the secondary. He was only persuaded to leave him here because the lad was so young and your mother and wife were able to convince him that the child still needed female guidance.”

“I know, Da, and for Frodo’s sake it may be for the best to get him away from the Brandywine. You know the troubles we had with him those first two years. And it’s never really gone away. I’m still frightened to death anytime I can’t find him. Only last week, Merry found him by the River again, ‘looking so awfully sad’. And he’s a tweenager now; it’s much harder to keep track of him.”

“You know, son, to be fair, we’re going to have to tell Bilbo. He’ll be furious we’ve kept it from him all these years.”

Saradoc frowned. Telling Bilbo would not be easy, but his father was right. If Frodo was living in Bag End, his guardian would need to know.

“I’m going to miss him. Esme’s going to miss him. Merry--” how little Merry would fare without his Frodo didn’t bear thinking of. “Fro” had been his first word, even before Mum and Da.

Rory nodded in sympathy. “I’ll miss him, too. But it’s what’s best for Frodo. And confess it--wouldn’t you like to see Bilbo put one over on the S.-B.s?”

Saradoc chuckled, and then laughed. “Imagine Lobelia’s face!”

Trewsday, 13, Rethe S.R. 1389

“No!” Merry’s scream was hysterical. “No! I don’t want to go to Tookland. I want to stay with Frodo!”

Frodo’s blue eyes were filled with distress. He looked at his adult relatives, who were just as taken aback as he. The trip to Hobbiton had been uneventful. They had stopped at Bag End, had a lovely luncheon, and unloaded Frodo’s travelling cases. But when it came time for the rest of the family to depart for Whitwell to visit with Esmeralda’s brother and his family, Merry suddenly dug in his furry little heels. What made it worse was that this was the first time any of them could recall the sunny-natured little Brandybuck ever to have a tantrum.

Frodo bent down and gave his little cousin a hug. “Merry, dearest, you know your Mum and Da need to go visit Uncle Paladin and Aunt Tina. Don’t you want to see them and your other cousins?”

“No. They’re only lassies! I want to stay with you!” He gripped his older cousin fiercely. “I love you, Frodo. Don’t you love me anymore?”

Frodo make a little sound, as though he had been stabbed to the heart, and looked up at the adults now with his own tear-filled eyes. With blue eyes and grey ones arrayed against them, the adults stood little chance. Bilbo gave in first.

“You know, I’ve plenty of room here, if you could see fit to leave the little lad a few days longer.”

Saradoc shrugged. He was puzzled and concerned by Merry’s reaction. He’d never acted this way in the previous years that Frodo had visited Bilbo.

Esmeralda held out a bit longer. She was still less than convinced that an old bachelor hobbit like Bilbo had enough sense to take care of a tweenager like Frodo, much less a little one who was only a few years past being a faunt.

She bent down to try and reason one more time with her little one. “Merry, won’t you miss Mummy and Da?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he sniffled.

“Well, then, you should come with us.”

“No! I want Frodo.” He started to weep and hug his cousin again, nearly pulling them both to the floor with the strength of his grip.

She sighed. “Well, I guess it would be all right for a few days. I will come back over in about three or four days and see if he’s ready then.”

Saradoc shook his head, and fetched Merry’s little travelling case from the cart.

__________________________________________________________

Saradoc patted Esmeralda’s hand as they drove off in the cart. “It will be all right, my love, you know Frodo will take the utmost care of our little lad. And Bilbo, in spite of what you may think, is perfectly competent.”

“But he’s so young!”

“I know Esme. But what worries me more is that maybe he somehow senses that it’s different this time. When we go home to Brandy Hall without Frodo--”

Esmeralda looked at her husband keenly. “And what of Frodo without his Merry?”

Saradoc nodded. “I know. But I think that without the painful reminders in Buckland, and without the Brandywine as a constant temptation, that Frodo will be all right.” Still, he was troubled.

_________________________________________________________

As soon as his parents drove off, little Merry cheered up. Frodo took his little travelling case and escorted the lad to the guest room next to the one he usually used. Not that he expected the child to stay in it for long. Even at home in Brandy Hall, he ended up in Frodo’s bed as many nights as not. Saradoc’s one rule was that Merry had to at least try to go to sleep in his own bed before seeking another.

Frodo helped Merry to wash the tearstains from his face, and then swung him up to his shoulders for a piggyback ride. Just then, they heard a knock on the door and voices in the front hall. They went to see who it was. They found Bilbo there, talking to a stout hobbit in sturdy work clothes.

“Well, Master Halfred, “ Bilbo was saying, “it’s good to see the rest of the materials have finally arrived, now perhaps the work can be finished.”

“Aye, Mr. Baggins, we’ll unload this afternoon, and get started again on the morrow.” Halfred looked beyond Bilbo to the lads. “And who have we here, Mr. Baggins?” he asked with a jolly smile.

Bilbo turned to see them. “Why these are my young cousins, Master Frodo Baggins and Master Meriadoc Brandybuck, come to visit Bag End for a while. Lads, say how-do-you-do to Mr. Halfred Goodchild.”

Frodo swung Merry to the floor, and bowed politely. “Frodo Baggins at your service, Mr. Goodchild.”

Not to be outdone, Merry made a presentable, if wobbly, bow. “Merry Brandybuck at your service,” he piped with a grin.

Halfred laughed and bowed back. “At your service and your family’s, young sirs.” He turned to Bilbo with a twinkle in his eye. “Very polite lads you have here, Mr. Baggins.”

Bilbo smiled at them fondly. “I should hope so,” he said with a note of pride. “Would you lads like to see the wonderful room Master Halfred is making for me?”

He led them down the passageway along which their guest rooms were located; down about three doors from Frodo’s room was an opening with no door. They stopped, and Frodo saw that there was almost a two foot drop to the earthen floor below.

Master Halfred clambered down, and Bilbo hopped down very nimbly indeed, considering his age. Frodo jumped, and then lifted little Merry down. They looked around the bare room. The ceiling was higher than any ceiling Frodo had seen before--it must be eight or nine feet high, even higher than the ceilings in Brandy hall, most of which were all of seven feet high, very high indeed for Hobbit habitations. “What are you going to do with this room, Uncle Bilbo?” he asked curiously.

Bilbo smiled down at him. “I have a friend, Frodo, one of the Big Folk, and he is going to pay me a visit. I want to have a room for him where he can be comfortable, instead of having to sleep on a pallet on the sitting room floor.”

“That doesn’t sound com’f’able, Cousin Bilbo,” piped Merry.

“No indeed. That is why I am making this room; so Gandalf will feel comfortable, and enjoy his visit.” Bilbo smiled at the thought of the grey Wizard’s reaction to having a room of his own at Bag End.

“Gandalf?” asked Frodo, wonder in his voice. “Fireworks Gandalf?”

Merry jumped up and down excitedly. “Troll Gandalf?”

Bilbo chuckled. “Yes, that Gandalf. The Gandalf who took me on an adventure and who makes lovely fireworks and who took care of the wicked trolls! My dear friend Gandalf.”

“Oh Uncle Bilbo! That’s just splendid!” exclaimed Frodo.

“Yes, lad, very splendid it is.”

Mersday, 15 Rethe S.R. 1389

For the last two days, Frodo and Merry had spent much of their time crouched at the opening to “Gandalf’s room” watching the workers in fascination, as they had laid the flagstones for the floor, enlarged the window, and built steps down from the passageway to the lowered floor. There were four whole steps, and Merry had spent a great deal of time hopping up and down them, until he got in the workers’ way.

Then Mr. Goodchild had given Frodo and Merry a barrow full of wood scraps, left from framing in the steps and the new window, and the new doorframe, and told them to take it outside. There was a wonderful pile of dirt, taken from the floor excavation, at the side of the smial, that Gaffer Gamgee had not yet taken away to make garden beds. With the dirt and wood scraps the two lads had built a perfectly lovely village. Frodo had made up a marvelous tale about it, and named all the people in it, and he and Merry were having a discussion as to whether it would be better if it were attacked by trolls or by a dragon.

It was almost time for luncheon, though, and Frodo realized just how dirty they were. No time for a bath, but they were certainly going to have to scrub up before they could eat. And after luncheon, Merry was supposed to rest quietly while Frodo had his lessons.

This was one part of the visit Merry was not liking. One thing Frodo had to do when he came to stay with Bilbo in the spring was have special lessons in poetry, history and the strange languages of the Elves. Merry thought these lessons were silly, but Frodo quite loved them, and did not like them interrupted. So Frodo’s lesson time was not much fun for Merry. He would lay on the settee, and try very hard to be good, but sooner or later he would fidget and sigh. Then Frodo would look at him crossly, and Cousin Bilbo would tell him to be a good lad and rest quietly or he would have no cakes at tea.

But today, as they were going in to wash up for luncheon a hobbitess came up the walk carrying a basket that smelled wonderful. There was a stocky little lad behind her, of perhaps nine years old. He had sandy curls almost the same color as Merry’s, and kind brown eyes.

Even dirty, Frodo was always polite. He stopped on the steps, and said “Good day, Mistress Bell, may I help you?“ Merry suddenly felt a bit shy. He hid behind Frodo, and stared out at the lad.

She gave a warm laugh, a mum’s laugh, and said to Merry “I’m Bell Gamgee, the Gaffer’s wife.” She looked at Frodo. “I brought the Gaffer, and my brother Half, a chicken pie for their lunch; and I thought as how Mr. Bilbo had company, I brought another one for him.”

This was a bit much for Merry. “Why did you only bring the Gaffer and your brother half a pie?” For he thought that surely two grown hobbits would need a whole pie between them.

The lad suddenly burst out laughing. “Not half a pie. Half. That’s my Nuncle Half, that’s his name!”

“Samwise!” reproved his mother.

But now that Merry understood, he quite liked the joke, and began to laugh as well. Just then Bilbo opened the door.

“Well bless my buttons! It looks as though a jolly time is being had by all out here.” He took a closer look at his two young guests. “Lads, into the house and clean up for lunch. Scamper!” As they did, they heard him saying “Mistress Bell, how good of you to come up. And how are you today, young Sam?”

By the time that Frodo and Merry had come out to the kitchen, their faces red and shiny from the scrubbing, Bilbo had dished up luncheon: soup, cheese sandwiches and some of Mistress Bell’s chicken pie. As they tucked in, Bilbo said

“Mistress Bell has had a splendid idea, Merry. Perhaps today, instead of trying to take a nap while Frodo and I natter on in Elvish, you and Sam might like to play together.”

Frodo looked at Bilbo questioningly. He had known Sam since he had begun to spend the spring at Bag End a few years ago, and he was a very nice child, but he was only a little lad after all. Could he really keep an eye on Merry? For Frodo felt keenly his responsibility for his little cousin.

Bell correctly interpreted his look. “Not to worry, Master Frodo. My Samwise is a very responsible lad. He’ll not let any harm come to your cousin, nor lead him into trouble.”

And so that afternoon, instead of having to pretend to rest, Merry got to go back outside with Sam. They played some more in the dirt pile, and then lay on the lawn to talk and watch the clouds. They soon discovered they had much in common, not the least the firmly held opinion that Frodo was the most splendid hobbit in the world. They did disagree on the second most splendid hobbit: Sam firmly thought it was Mr. Bilbo, while Merry held out for his Da. Sam finally conceded that perhaps it was proper for Merry to like his Da better than Bilbo. Sam liked to say “proper” a lot.

Then Sam took Merry round the garden and showed him all the plants. Sam knew what they all were by name, and the two lads found some weeds that Sam’s Gaffer had not yet got to, so they weeded one of the flower beds. The Gaffer came round and found them at it, and at first Merry thought he would be cross, but he said they had saved him a job of work, and he was right proud of his Sam for not pulling the flowers by mistake.

It was almost time for tea, and so the Gaffer took his son away home with him, and Merry went in, dirtier than he had been in the morning, but quite happy and tired all the same.

 Sterday, 17 Rethe S.R. 1389

It was just before elevenses when the cart pulled up in front of Bag End. There had been no playing in the dirt that morning, for two reasons: yesterday afternoon, the Gaffer had finally taken most of it away to make a new bed in the kitchen garden, and also Merry’s mum was coming to check on him, so he had to stay nice and clean until she got there. So after second breakfast, he and Frodo went out and sat on the front step to wait, and Frodo told him stories to pass the time.

With Esmeralda was his Aunt Tina and his cousin Pearl. He felt a bit disappointed. Pearl was nice enough, but she was so very much a lass, and at fourteen thought she was quite grown up as well. Pimmie and Vinca were a great deal more fun--they still liked to run about, and were not quite so silly as most lasses about such things as a little dirt. Not as much fun as a lad though.

When the cart stopped Merry sprang from the step and into his mother’s arms almost before she had finished coming down.

“Mum! Oh, Mum!” He hugged her tightly, and breathed in the scent of her. Then he wriggled to get down. “Hullo Aunt Tina and Pearl,” he said politely before turning back to his mother. “Oh Mum I am having such a splendid time! Do you know, Cousin Bilbo is making a Big Person room! And I have a new friend his name is Sam! And yesterday me and Sam and Frodo found some really beautiful mushrooms, and Cousin Bilbo made them into a pie! And--”

“Oi, Merry,” said Frodo, “take a breath. It’s good to see you, Aunt Esme. Hello Cousin Eglantine and Cousin Pearl.” Frodo held out his hand to help them down from the cart.

Eglantine gave the young tweenager a brief embrace. “My goodness, Frodo lad, you are as tall as I am now!”

He laughed. “Well, Cousin Tina, I am almost twenty-one, after all.” He led them to the door and called out “Bilbo! They are here!”

As they entered the front hall, Bilbo came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “My stars! So they are, and just in time for elevenses, too!”

_________________________________________________________

After elevenses, Merry insisted that Bilbo must show everyone Gandalf’s Room. Esmerelda was amused. She was not sure what impressed her son the most about the room--that it was new and therefore fascinating, or that it was meant for someone that up till now had existed only in his elderly cousin’s tales.

She had to admit, it would be a very nice room for a Big Person when finished, with it’s high ceilings and wide new double window. The new door had not yet been installed, but it too, would be much larger than the doors in the rest of the Smial. The room was almost completely finished now, needing only the baseboards to be installed and some paint, to be all done.

Eglantine looked about in interest as well. “What are you doing about furnishings, Cousin Bilbo?”

He chuckled. “I have already placed an order with a woodwright in Bree. As large as the room is, there still will not be much space once the bed and chair I have ordered arrive. Which they are supposed to do in just a couple of days.”

Esmeralda exchanged an amused look with her sister-in-law. “I suppose you thought to order bed-coverings and curtains at the same time? For you know, hobbit-sized linens will never fit.”

Bilbo looked thunderstruck. It was clear that this particular aspect of furnishing the room had never occurred to him. “Oh dear! Oh bother! How long do you suppose it would take to have another order come from Bree?”

For, truly, he wanted it all finished before Gandalf arrived. The letter had not been specific as to date, but it had said “early spring”, and that would only give him a few more days to a couple of weeks to get it ready.

Esmeralda laughed. “I think you can probably find a hobbit seamstress here in Hobbiton who could do the job for you just as well if she had the measurements.”

“Oh my dear Esmeralda, what a wonderful idea!” And after that, nothing would do but for them all to accompany the enthusiastic old hobbit down to see the Widow Grubb, who did Bilbo’s mending and made him the occasional shirt. She soon agreed that she could see to it with her daughters’ help, and would have a complete set of bed coverings ready inside of a week.

On the way back to Bag End, Merry skipped along holding his mum’s hand and chattering about all the things he had done, and all the things he was going to do, while he was here.

“Merry” she said, “don’t you think you are ready to come back with me to Tookland now?”

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked up at her in dismay. “But I want to see when Gandalf comes! And Frodo is still here.”

“But Merry, we miss you.”

He looked a bit downcast. “I know. I miss you and Da too. I know! Why don’t you come stay here, too!”

“Well, dear, then I would not get to visit Uncle Paladin and Aunt Tina.”

“I bet everyone could come here to Bag End! Cousin Bilbo has loads of rooms, and nobody in them!” Merry looked so excited at the prospect of this idea that Esmeralda could not refrain from laughing. She had noticed Bilbo listening to the exchange with amusement, but there had been a look of alarm on his face at Merry’s latest idea.

“Merry-lad, it is not polite to invite other people to someone else’s smial without permission. I do not think Cousin Bilbo would care to have quite so much company at one time. But if you are truly having so much fun here, and since Cousin Bilbo and Frodo seem to be enjoying your company, I will let you stay a bit longer.”

“Thank you, Mum! That is just splendid!” But Esmeralda’s feelings were just a bit hurt that her son did not want to go back with her. Her little one was growing older now; he didn’t need his mum so much. It gave her a hollow feeling.

Mersday 22 Rethe, S.R. 1389 

Merry jumped up from the step and started to run down to the road again. Frodo reached up and took him by the shirt and pulled him back down.

“Merry, the waggon will be here when it gets here. Please calm down! You are going to wear yourself out.”

“But what if it doesn’t come before Gandalf does?” he asked plaintively.

Frodo sighed. Bilbo had gotten increasingly agitated as the days had passed and the Big furniture had not arrived. He had sent a messenger to inquire, and the messenger had returned with word that the shipment was on its way, and indeed was already at the Bridge Inn. But his older cousin’s anxiety had apparently infected his younger one. Merry could not sit still for worrying. Frodo gave his shoulders a squeeze, and tried to think of something to distract the little one.

He picked up a handful of pebbles from the ground by the path. “How about a game of Stones?” “Stones” was a simple hobbit pastime easily played by bored youngsters. One took up a small handful of half a dozen or so pebbles, tossed them in the air, and then saw how many of them one could catch on their way back down. Older players would often try such tricks as catching them on the back of the hand, or picking up another stone from the ground before catching the falling ones. But little ones such as Merry did well to catch a few in the palm of the hand. Frodo was a patient teacher, though, and after a short while, Merry was catching most of them, most of the time. Finally, he caught all six on a lucky pass, and let out a squeal of triumph.

Frodo grinned and gave him a hug. “That was wonderful, Merry! If you keep practicing like that, I should not be able to beat you at all!”

“Will I be able to beat Sam? Sam’s only nine, and he’s almost as good as you!”

“I don’t know, Merry. It depends on how much you practice.”

Just then a loud rumble from the direction of the road drew their attention. Frodo stood up and directed his gaze in that direction: it was indeed the long awaited waggon!

“Bilbo! Bilbo!” he called, before grabbing Merry’s hand and racing down to where the waggon had stopped.

There were two large Men sitting upon the seat of the waggon, and two immense mules to draw it. “Hoy!” called one of the Men. “Is this Bag End? We have a delivery.”

“Yes, it is,” said Frodo. “My cousin, Mr. Baggins, should be here in a moment.”

Merry had stopped by Frodo’s side, his grey eyes huge. He tugged on Frodo’s sleeve. “Frodo? Are they giants?” he asked anxiously.

Frodo had to admit to feeling a bit anxious himself, but he reassured Merry. “No, Merry-lad, they are just some of the Big Folk. Giants are as much bigger than they, as they are to us.” Noticing the sudden look of panic on his little cousin’s face, Frodo suddenly thought perhaps he should not have imparted that information. “It’s quite all right, sprout. Giants are far, far away from here; and these Big Folk are the nice ones bringing Cousin Bilbo’s furniture.”

Bilbo himself appeared there at the gate. “I am Mr. Baggins.” He looked up at the large Men with a nonchalant air of confidence which did much to reassure both Merry and Frodo. “Come along, and I will show you where it is to go. I will have your payment as soon as it is all set up.”

The two Men clambered down, smiling at the lads. “Cute little tykes,” said one of them to the other.

Frodo blushed. He had not been a “cute little tyke” since he was Merry’s age. But he supposed to them he must appear much younger. They followed Bilbo and the Men into the smial.

Frodo and Merry noticed how low the Men had to bend to get inside, and how careful they had to be about bumping their heads, until they were in the room. They looked about the new space with approval.

“Aye, Nat,” said one of them to the other, “there will be plenty of room to set up the bed and the chair.” He turned to Bilbo. “I am afraid, Mr. Baggins, that there will not be much room left afterward though.”

“That’s quite all right. Come along, lads,” he said to Frodo and Merry, “let’s get out of their way.”

“Come on, then, Harry,” said the one called Nat. “Let’s get to it.”

Bilbo, Frodo and Merry stood well back out of the way while Nat and Harry unloaded and brought in all the huge furniture pieces. But when they began to put them together, the hobbits sat upon the steps of the room to watch. Merry sat in Frodo’s lap on the bottom step and Frodo leaned his head against Bilbo’s knees, as he sat upon the topmost step.

It was interesting to watch them at work, as the two Men held the pieces together and pounded the pegs in place. Soon they had the chair together--for it, they had only to attach the legs and back. Then they turned their attention to the great bed.

Headboard, footboard, side slats--then they took rope and wove it back and forth, so as to have a place for the mattresses. Bilbo had remembered mattresses, and there were two huge feather ones, rolled up in one corner, to put on the bed as soon as it was done.

Soon the furniture was finished and all in place. Pleased, Bilbo gave them a pouch of coin, which contained the payment, and took from his pocket two more coins, which he gave the Men for their trouble.

“We are much obliged, Mr. Baggins,” said Nat.

“Not at all,” said Bilbo, “it was quite a job of work.” He looked at his pocket-watch. “Would you care to join us for afternoon tea before you start your trip back?”

“No, thank you very much, Mr. Baggins. I think we would like to get headed home. It’s a fair way to Bree, you know.”

“Well, thank you again for your trouble. Have a safe journey home.”

Frodo and Merry followed them down to the road, and watched them drive away.

“Frodo, those Big Men were quite nice!”

“Yes, indeed they were, Merry.”

Just then Bilbo called them in to tea. As they sped up to the smial, Merry laughed. “Maybe one day we can go to Bree and see the Big Folk there! That would be an adventure, Frodo, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, Merry, that would be quite an adventure.” And as he said it, he suddenly thought--someday we’ll have just such an adventure, we really will!

______________________________________________________

Highday, 23 Rethe, S.R. 1389

The room was nearly ready. The Gaffer and Bilbo were on stepladders putting up shelves and hooks that would be high enough to hold Gandalf’s long robe and cloak. Bilbo had sent Frodo and Merry with the Gaffer’s hand-waggon to fetch the bed coverings and things from the Widow Grubb.

They had picked them up, and Frodo had given her the pouch of coin Bilbo had sent. The linens and coverlets and the huge pillow and the curtains fairly filled the hand-waggon up. The cousins turned back to Bag End, Frodo pulling the waggon, and Merry skipping alongside putting a hand out every so often to keep them from tumbling in the road.

They had reached the bottom of the hill, and Frodo had stopped for Merry to get a breather before they tackled the uphill climb. Suddenly he heard the last thing he wanted to hear.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t cracked old Bilbo’s pet Brandybuck. And who’s the sprat?”

Frodo turned. “Lotho.” He shook his head. Lotho had been the bane of his existence since as far back as he could remember. “I see you still haven’t learned to keep your brains from falling out every time you open your mouth. This is my cousin Merry Brandybuck.”

“You’d better learn to watch your own mouth. As if I should care what the baby thinks,” Lotho was four years older, and considerably bigger than Frodo. But he was mostly threat and bluster.

Merry had bristled at the first sound of his voice. “You’d better leave my Frodo alone.” He planted himself in front of Lotho, feet apart and little fists ready.

Lotho’s hand shot out, and he shoved Merry hard. Merry went down flat on the road. He sat up, shaking his head and tears in his eyes, but he did not cry out.

Lotho on the other hand, did. He did not even see Frodo move, but Frodo had tackled him and measured his length on the roadway. He lay there with Frodo on top of him, Frodo’s knees in the road to each side of his ribs. He gave Lotho a blow to the nose with a hard fist and said in a cold voice “You will not touch my cousin again.”

“You’re crazy!” said Lotho, holding his bloody nose.

“Maybe. And maybe you are. What do you think the Master of Buckland will say to your treatment of his grandson? Merry‘s father is the Son of the Hall.” Frodo stood up and deliberately turned his back on the bully. He picked up Merry, who whimpered a bit, but still had not cried. “My brave Merry.” He stood him up, ignoring Lotho, who took that instant to get to his feet and flee. He checked his little cousin over--the back of his shirt was torn and his elbows and the palms of his hands were bloody and scraped, and there was dirt and gravel in them. Bilbo would not be happy with Lotho, oh no. He put Merry on top of the bedding in the waggon and headed up the hill to Bag End.

“My stars, lads!” exclaimed Bilbo, horrified at the sight of Merry’s injuries. “What happened?”

“Lotho.” Frodo said it grimly and coldly. He was still trembling inside at the fierceness of his anger. “I gave him as good as he gave Merry,” he said with satisfaction.

Bilbo took Merry in his arms. “Come on now, let’s get you cleaned up. And I think I’ll send the Gaffer down for the healer, just in case. We don’t want any infections.”

A short while later, a nice looking lass in her late tweens, or perhaps just come of age was at the door. “Hullo. Mistress Salvia is out delivering a babe. I’m her apprentice, Lavender. Can I be of some help?”

Bilbo explained what had happened. There was a grim set to her mouth when she found out who had hurt the little one. That Lotho was a menace.

She took a look at Merry, who was quite taken with her. Gently she checked the scrapes. “Mr. Baggins, it looks as though you have done a nice job cleaning out the dirt. I’m going to use an astringent on them just in case. It will sting a bit at first, but after a few minutes it will deaden the pain. I’ll bandage them lightly for tonight, and tomorrow Mistress Salvia can take a look at them. I would imagine that she will take off the bandages if they have scabbed over nicely.”

Bilbo nodded. “Do what you think best. You seem a capable sort.”

She blushed at the praise. She turned to Merry. “The stuff I’m going to put on you will sting at first, but then in a few minutes it will feel much better. Is that all right.”

Merry bit his lip. “Umm-hmm,” he nodded. He liked this lass. He would not cry out in front of her.

“Here Merry,” said Frodo. He stood behind him and wrapped his arms tightly around his little cousin.

He flinched, and tears leaked from his eyes, but he did not make a sound. She applied the soft bandages, and ruffled his head. “My, but you are a brave lad!”

She took from her satchel a sweet and popped it into his surprised mouth. He managed a grin at the unexpected treat.

“Mr. Baggins, here is some powder to make willow-bark tea. If he’s in a bit of pain, it will help; it also may help him to sleep.”

“Thank you, my dear. How much do I owe you?”

“Take that up with Mistress Salvia tomorrow.” She looked at Frodo. “So you gave him a bloody nose, did you?”

“I did.” Frodo said it with some satisfaction. He had never raised a hand to Lotho on his own behalf, but Merry was something else again.

“Good for you. I would place a wager that Mistress Salvia gets a summons from Mistress Lobelia before the day is out. I’ll make sure she knows the full story.”

They had a late tea or early supper, Bilbo said maybe it was “tupper” which made Merry giggle. He drank the willow-bark tea, making a face, but drinking it down.

Frodo undressed him and put him in his nightshirt, as he could not easily manage it with his bandaged hands. “Just for tonight, Merry-lad, I’m going to go ahead and put you in my bed. But it’s special. Tomorrow night you must start out in your own as usual.”

“Uh-huh,” said the sleepy child, as Frodo drew the covers up.

Frodo went back out to the sitting room, where Bilbo was reading. “Well, Frodo, is he all tucked up?”

“Yes, Uncle Bilbo.”

“I don’t know what Sara and Esme are going to say to me for allowing this to happen to their only chick while he was in my care.”

“They won’t be angry at you, Uncle Bilbo. But I would not want to be Lotho.”

“No,” said Bilbo, “being Lotho is not a fate I would wish on anyone else. It must be awful to be such a toad. And to think, he has Lobelia and Otho for parents.”

Frodo laughed. “You have a point there, Uncle Bilbo. But I cannot find it in me to feel sorry for him.”

Sunday, 25 Rethe S.R. 1389, Morning 

It was quite early, the three had just finished with first breakfast, and Cousin Bilbo was gently massaging the ointment Mistress Salvia had given him into Merry’s hands. As Apprentice Lavender had thought, her mistress did not leave the bandages on another day, but she had left the ointment, which would be some protection as well as help to keep the tender skin supple as it healed. She gave Merry many admonitions not to get any dirt on them, which was a major disappointment, as it rather curtailed his play.

There was a rap on the door, and all three went to answer. They were expecting the Wizard and the Dwarf any day now. But when they opened the door, it was Saradoc and Esmeralda.

“Mum! Da!” Merry leaped into his mother’s arms, but gave a little whimper when she squeezed him.

She put him down and looked at his arms and hands. “Merry! What happened?”

“Oh,” he said blithely, “mean old Lotho pushed me and Frodo knocked him down and gave him a splendid bloody nose!”

Saradoc looked grim. “Did he indeed?” He looked inquiringly at Bilbo, who seemed a bit abashed.

It was Frodo answered. “Uncle Sara, it really isn’t Uncle Bilbo’s fault! You know Lotho.”

Saradoc shook his head. “I would not dream of holding Bilbo responsible for anything that Lotho did. Lobelia and Otho, however are another matter altogether. Have you confronted them?”

Bilbo shook his head. “In light of the fact that Frodo took instant retribution, I felt that it was best not to stir the pot.”

“Well,” said Saradoc, “I am Merry’s father, and I am not at all averse to a little pot stirring.”

Esmeralda stood up, Merry in her arms. “Frodo, just how ‘splendid’ was that bloody nose? I should like to have seen that.”

Frodo blushed.

Bilbo nodded. “I am glad you came so early; I have some other matters of importance I need to speak to you on. I believe you know to what I refer.”

Saradoc took a deep breath. “Indeed I do. I have some things need saying as well.”

“Let us go to my study, then,” said Bilbo.

Bilbo closed the door to the study, something he almost never did. “Have a seat, Sara. This ugly business with Lotho has made me more determined than ever to move forward on adopting Frodo. In fact, I was only waiting until I spoke to you again before I put things in motion.”

Saradoc sighed. “Then there is something you should know. In hindsight, you probably should have been told years ago. From time to time, Frodo suffers from bouts of deep melancholy.”

Bilbo raised his brows. “Indeed? I have never seen any signs of it.”

Saradoc looked hopeful. “That is good. It makes me believe that it will perhaps stop once he is away from the sad reminders in Buckland and--” he hesitated, “from the River.”

“You think it is that serious? And not just the natural grief of an orphan?”

“Bilbo, there is nothing ’natural’ about being orphaned at such a young age. I will tell you that it was much worse in the time right after his parents died, and before Merry was born. We had to watch him constantly, lest he find the waters of the Brandywine too great a temptation. Even now, from time to time--”

Bilbo blanched. “Are you saying?”

“Yes,” Saradoc flushed. “I do not think he realizes we know. And Merry is the only one who can reach him at such a time.”

Bilbo was silent for a long while. Finally he said, “I wish I had known. I would have had him away from there long ago.” He looked at Saradoc astutely. “I daresay that is why I was not informed.”

Another silence. Saradoc endured it, knowing he deserved the older hobbit’s reproaches.

Bilbo continued. “Knowing how attached Frodo is to Merry, I had planned to encourage frequent visits. But with what you now tell me, how safe would it be for me to allow him to return to Buckland at all?”

Saradoc thought his answer over carefully; the future happiness of his son, and of one whom he loved as a son, depended on it.

“Frodo’s melancholy is always worse in the spring, near the thirtieth of Rethe, when it happened. It is one reason we have always encouraged these annual springtime visits of his to Bag End. If he is living here, then Merry can come to stay in the spring, and Frodo can come to Buckland in the fall after his birthday, which is usually a good time for him. And you have spent Yule with us for years. I see no reason to change that.”

Bilbo nodded. “Indeed. It seems like a sound arrangement. I must say I am quite enjoying little Merry’s presence, and Frodo seems more than content to have him here. And in addition, I am sure they will see one another frequently in Tookland, especially during Lithe.” For there were frequent family occasions held in the Great Smials  which all family connections were expected to attend. And the Lithedays celebrations held in Tuckborough were always eagerly anticipated.

Saradoc nodded. “Have you talked to him about it yet?”

“Not specifically, no. We have talked in vague terms for several years about his coming here to live, but never have discussed a specific time. Menegilda and Esme kept trying to convince me he was still too young. Since we have come to this agreement now, however, I will probably tell him today. I would like you all to remain a few more days, if you would until we can finalize the legalities.”

“Certainly; that is not a problem.” Saradoc shook his head. He was going to miss Frodo. “Now can we talk about Lotho?”

“Better than that. Now that you are here, why don’t we take a stroll down there?”

_______________________________________________________

Lotho himself opened the door, and when he saw who stood there, let out a squawk. His nose was huge, and his face was a glorious mask of black and blue.

Bilbo and Saradoc looked at Frodo’s handiwork with satisfaction. “Not bad,” said Saradoc.

Lotho stood there gaping, panic on his face.

“Lotho, my dear, don’t keep people standing.” It was Lobelia’s shrill voice; she hove into view. “Oh. It’s you, Bilbo.” she said, less than enthusiastically. “Saradoc.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Lotho let out another squawk.

She looked at him fondly. “You’ll have to excuse the dear lad. He was hit in the face by a ball while playing the other day.”

Bilbo raised a brow. So that’s why he’d not had Lobelia on the doorstep demanding Frodo’s blood. Lotho had been less than forthcoming with his mother.

“Is that what he told you?” asked Bilbo coldly.

Lobelia had a great many faults, but she was not stupid. One look at her son’s panic stricken face soon gave her to know she had been lied to. Still her first and last inclination was always to defend Lotho.

As was usual with her, she took refuge in rudeness. Moving forward into the doorway to keep her callers on the step she sneered “What are you implying? I suppose he got into a little fight with that jumped up little orphan from Buckland you have hanging about--”

“Excuse me?” said Saradoc dangerously.

She gave a start. In concentrating her ire on Bilbo, she had forgotten that the heir to Buckland stood in front of her as well.

“Lobelia! What is going on? Do we need to have our business on the doorstep for all the neighbors to know?” Otho pulled the door wide. “Come in Bilbo, Saradoc. Let’s go into the sitting room and sort this out.”

Most who knew only Lobelia, and not her husband, were under the impression that anyone married to her must be hen-pecked. They would have been quite wrong. Otho was just as greedy as his wife, and far more ambitious. But he knew how to be polite, and was much more conventional in his dealings, so people were often fooled by him. And he was more than a match for his wife. He also had no illusions about his son. He knew how unpleasant and unpopular the lad was. He didn’t much care about that, as long as he did not bring the trouble home. But it looked like he had done so this time.

As they were seated, Otho said “Now, Lotho, tell me what this is about. I take it you were not hit in the face by a ball.” Actually Otho had never believed that to begin with, but he had not said anything.

“Frodo attacked me,” he said sullenly.

“Why?”

“Well, I might have accidentally pushed his cousin down,” he mumbled.

Saradoc bristled. “There was nothing accidental about the way you shoved a seven year old child onto the roadway. It is a wonder he was not hurt much worse than he was.”

“Now,” said Otho, “perhaps Lotho didn’t know his own strength--”

“What would he need to know? A twenty-five year old shoves a seven year old? That is ridiculous. My son was hurt badly enough to need the healer. You had better do something about this, Otho. If I do not think you have punished Lotho sufficiently, I will have to see about bringing an action at law. If you do not keep him away from Merry from now on, I will bring an action at law.”

“And that goes for Frodo as well,” said Bilbo coldly. “If this young person--” he nodded in Lotho’s direction “did not find such amusement in tormenting my young cousin none of this would have happened in the first place!”

Otho looked at his family. Lotho looked as though he wanted to say something, and Lobelia was red in the face, and probably ready to start in on a tirade about Frodo, whom she detested. He gave them a quelling look. He could not afford an action at law. Why could they not keep in mind that they had to at least appear to be civil to Bilbo? It couldn’t be much longer to wait, he was ninety-nine after all, and then they could do as they wished. But if they antagonized him too much, he might do something drastic.

Otho stood up. “Send the healer’s bill to me. And I will deal with Lotho.” Lotho paled, and Lobelia looked rebellious.

He saw Bilbo and Saradoc out.

“Do you think we accomplished anything, Bilbo?” Sara asked.

“Probably not in the long run,” answered Bilbo, “but yes, in the short run, I think he will leave our lads alone. Why don’t we stop at The Ivy Bush for elevenses before we head back to Bag End?”

Sunday, 25 Rethe S.R. 1389, Afternoon 

After luncheon, Bilbo left Merry and his parents in the front room. “Frodo, why don’t you and I take a little walk?”

Frodo thought it was kind of Uncle Bilbo to let Uncle Sara and Aunt Esme have some time alone with Merry, since they had been missing him for several days. He thought Merry was quite ready to spend the time with his Mum and Da also.

Bilbo fetched his walking stick, and the two of them went down the path and up the Road, humming Bilbo’s favorite walking song about “The Road Goes Ever On”.

After a few moments, Bilbo said “You had better come and live here, Frodo, my lad, and then we can celebrate our birthday-parties comfortably together.”*

Frodo laughed. “That would be splendid, Uncle Bilbo.” Bilbo had said these exact same words to him every year since he was sixteen and had begun these springtime visits. Frodo thought that he would be of age, however before Aunt Esme and Aunt Gilda thought he would be old enough to live permanently with the eccentric old bachelor.

But this time Bilbo did not laugh with him. “Yes, Frodo, it would indeed be splendid, and I think it is time, and past time, that we make it so. I have spoken to Sara and we agree. Perhaps Esme and Menegilda will not be happy about it, but there is no more reason to delay. Neither one of us is getting any younger. I do not want to wait until you are of age, and I do not want to miss any more of your growing up.”

Frodo stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Bilbo. One of his greatest dreams come true? To live always in peace and quiet and privacy, in Bag End? Away from the bustle of Brandy Hall? Away from constant reminders of his dead parents? Away from the River? Suddenly he thought of something else: away from his Merry?

Bilbo saw the thought as it occurred to him. Frodo’s eyes always showed his emotions and thoughts as plain as day.

“Merry is getting old enough to visit on his own, as we have seen this year. And of course you will go to visit him. You will see each other at Yule in Buckland, and in Tookland during Lithe. And of course you may write every day if you wish.”

“Oh, Uncle Bilbo!” The joy in his blue eyes was stunning. “I never thought this day would ever come!”

“It has come now.” Bilbo began to step out once more. “I must tell you that there may be a bit of unpleasantness. You can imagine how the S.-B.s will take this news.”

Frodo looked puzzled.

“Frodo, I am going to adopt you as my heir. You will be a son to me as far as the law is concerned, and will one day be Master of Bag End, and if all goes well, head of the Baggins family as well. This will not sit well with Otho.”

“Master of Bag End? But Bilbo, you must live for many, many years yet. I can’t lose you now!” He looked truly distraught, as though Bilbo had told him he was going to expire next week.

“Well, lad, my ambition is to pass the Old Took, but I plan at least to live until you are of age. Now, let us talk of more pleasant things, such as your future studies. I think you are doing well with Sindarin, what do you say we start you in a course of Quenyan next week?”

______________________________

Because of his hands, Merry could not go outside to play, and truth to tell, he had missed his parents a lot. So he was more than happy to sit in his Mum’s lap, and listen to his Da read him a story out of one of Bilbo’s many books. It was a story about a Man who loved an Elven lass, and Merry could not understand the half of it, but it was nice just to hear his Da’s voice again.

But soon his father shut the book, and he looked at Merry with a very serious face. “Merry, you know that we are going to stay here for a few more days?”

“Yes, Da! That’s good, because I don’t want to leave before Gandalf gets here! And I know that Frodo wants to see Gandalf, too.”

“Merry, Frodo will not be coming back with us when we go home to Buckland.”

Merry looked a bit distressed, but said, “I’m sorry I fussed the other day. I know that he will stay longer than we can.”

His Mum hugged him up, as though trying to comfort him, and he suddenly had a fearful feeling.

“Merry, Frodo is not going to live in Buckland anymore. He is going to stay here and live at Bag End, with Bilbo.”

“No! Da! I’ll be ever so good! I won’t fuss anymore! Please don’t make Frodo stay here!” In spite of his resolve to be big and not fuss, he felt tears coming to his eyes. He squinted and shook his head. He wouldn’t cry, that’s what he’d done, he’d cried and carried on, and now they were taking away his Frodo.

His father reached over and took both his little hands very gently in his own. “Merry, this is not about you. You have not done anything wrong. Cousin Bilbo is ever so lonely here, he needs a lad of his own, and Frodo has no mum and da anymore, so Bilbo would like him to stay and be his lad.”

“But he’s my Frodo!” That was no fair! Frodo was his first!

“He will always be your Frodo, Merry-lad, but he needs to stay here. You know how sad the River makes him.”

“Because it drownded his mum and da. It makes him ever so awfully sad sometimes, I just want to cry when I see his face.”

“Well, if he stays here, the River can’t make him sad.”

Merry felt something wet land on his arm. He looked up. His Mum was crying. Now he really felt bad. “But I’ll miss him,” he said mournfully.

“I know, my lad, but Cousin Bilbo and I talked. In the autumn, when it is a better time for Frodo, he will come and have a good long visit in Buckland. And he and Bilbo both will come for Yule. And you know how Frodo always comes to stay here in the spring? Well, you have been such a good brave lad this visit, that we will let you come and stay next spring as long as Frodo always did! And you know we will all be in Tookland at midsummer.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” But Merry still had his doubts. If Frodo did get sad, what would he do without his Merry to say he loved him? He wanted to cry, but he didn’t want to do it in front of his parents. He was a big lad now, they said so.

“May I get down?”

Esmeralda set him on the floor, and he padded off to Frodo’s room and shut the door.

“Oh, Sara,” she threw herself into her husband’s arms and wept.

He felt like weeping, too, even though he knew this was all for the best,

____________________________________

Bilbo and Frodo were walking a bit further, making plans for the future. Every now and then they would pass other hobbits, and wave and pass the time of day. They had walked all the way to Bywater, and were just about ready to turn back, so as to get to Bag End in time for tea, when they saw a cart coming in their direction.

Bilbo gave a shout. “Look, Frodo, my lad!”

Frodo was looking. Driving the cart was a tall figure in grey, with a tall pointed hat; a shorter figure with a lush dark beard sat alongside. Frodo looked at Bilbo.

“Yes, indeed! Gandalf!” Bilbo called, “Balin, my friends!” And he dashed up the road, Frodo on his heels.

The cart came to a halt as the two hobbits came running up.

“Bilbo, my dear hobbit! Well met!” exclaimed the Wizard.

“Well, if it isn’t our host come to meet us!” said the Dwarf. “And who is this?”

Bilbo put his arm around Frodo’s shoulders. “This is my cousin, and heir, Frodo Baggins, who has come to live with me!” he said proudly.

Frodo thought he would burst from happiness. He looked up and up, into the eyes of the Wizard. Suddenly he knew that this person would be one of his dearest friends in life.

Gandalf looked down into the luminous blue eyes, and realized with a start, that this was the brightest mortal spirit he had ever seen. Somehow he knew that he had just met his greatest friend, on either side of the Sea.

_______________________________________

Merry had cried himself out and had a little doze, and when he woke, he washed his face all by himself. And if he did not quite erase all his tearstains, his parents pretended not to notice.

Now he was sitting on his Da’s knee on the bench by the front steps. His Da was smoking a pipe, and they were watching the Gaffer set out some spring bedding plants. Sam was helping his father, tenderly removing the little plants from their small pots and handing them to the Gaffer to set in the ground. Every now and then he’d look up at Merry and grin.

Saradoc was pleased that Merry had found a friend near his own age here in Hobbiton. It would bode well for his future visits. It did not concern him in the least that Sam was the gardener’s son--he seemed a sweet and reliable child, and that was all that mattered as far as he was concerned. But he hoped that Sam’s father would not obstruct their friendship. He recognized the concern for proprieties that the Gaffer had displayed.

There was the sound of a rumble on the roadway, and Saradoc and Merry looked down the path in amazement as they saw Bilbo and Frodo leap nimbly out of a large waggon, followed by a Dwarf and a Big Person.

Merry knew at once who it was and started to scramble down. “It’s Gandalf, Da! Wait ‘till he sees his room!” Saradoc grasped his little shirt before he could dart down the path.

“Merry-lad, don’t go spoiling his surprise!”

The grey eyes went wide, and he nodded and was away, before his father could follow at a more sedate pace.

From his vantage point in the flower bed, Sam watched, his brown eyes full of longing.

The Gaffer shook his head. “Oh, go along with you! But mind you act proper and don’t go speakin’ ‘till you’re spoke to.”

Sam shot off down the path, and soon caught up to Merry.

The Gaffer sighed. Wizards! Mr. Bilbo was a good Master, but he did go filling the lad’s head up with naught but moonbeams.

Bilbo looked to see who was joining them. “Gandalf and Balin, this is Meriadoc Brandybuck, Frodo’s little cousin, and this is Samwise Gamgee.”

“Merry Brandybuck at your service, sirs,” he said with a little bow. Watching, Sam imitated the bow, but was too tongue-tied in the presence of such beings to say anything.

Balin smiled through his beard and likewise bowed. “Balin son of Fundin at your service and your families’, Master Meriadoc and Master Samwise.”

Saradoc strolled up, and Bilbo made more introductions. Saradoc had met the Wizard many years before, but he had never met the Dwarf. Soon the introductory pleasantries were over. Gandalf turned to Bilbo. “I shall put the cart and horse away, and soon join you up at the smial.”

Bilbo smiled. “You do that, Gandalf. Why don’t you give us your things? We’ll carry them up right now.” He fought down a laugh as Gandalf handed out his bedroll. He’d not be needing that this visit, though he didn’t yet know it.

Bilbo led them all but Gandalf up to the smial. He knew the Wizard would be along in just a few minutes.

When Gandalf carefully entered the smial a few moments later, he saw Balin in the front room being introduced to Esmeralda. He came along and renewed his own acquaintance. When last he had seen her, she had been a bold little Took lass in her tweens. She was very pleased to see the Wizard again.

Bilbo came up to him. “Come along, do, Gandalf, while I show Balin to his room so that he may freshen up. Then there’s something I’d like you to see as well.”

He led them down the passageway, and stopped in front of a door somewhat larger than the rest. Gandalf could not recall ever having seen that particular door before.

Bilbo pushed the door open and stood aside, and Gandalf saw the room.

With the floor lowered, the ceiling was nearly ten feet high. Slowly Gandalf went down the four steps to the cool flagstone floor. To the right of the door was a high shelf with three hooks underneath, where he could hang his robe, cloak and hat. Lower down on the same wall was another shelf with a ewer and washbasin. In the corner was the Big chair, with a pale grey cushion on the seat. A small shelf on the wall next to it held an oil lamp. The wall behind the chair boasted a large round window hung with gauzy curtains gently swaying in the breeze. Under the window, Bilbo had placed what was (for hobbits) a huge blanket chest. But in this room, it did not look so large. On top of the chest stood a vase of early spring flowers.

Almost the entire wall to the left of the door was taken up by the Big bed. It was dressed with a quilted coverlet in shades of grey, pale blue and white, with a snowy white pillow at the head. Another shelf was by the bed, with a candlestick set upon it. A soft rug on the floor next to the bed completed the room.

Gandalf gazed about the room, speechless.

“Do you like it?” asked Bilbo anxiously.

“Like it? My dear Bilbo! Words fail me! It is beyond anything I might have dreamt of!”

For since he had arrived in Middle-earth long ages ago, he had been a wanderer and a pilgrim, passing most of his nights beneath the stars. Oh, there were places where he was more than welcome: Rivendell and Lórien among the Elves; in Erebor with the Dwarves; until just a few years ago, his presence was honored in Minas Tirith, when Ecthelion was Steward. But he was ever and always a guest.

But this--this was a place for him, made for him with love and care and a deal of thoughtfulness. This was as close to a home as he could know until his task was done and he returned across the Sea. Tears stood in his eyes.

Hobbits were amazing creatures.

He bent down to embrace his friend. “Thank you, Bilbo. I am honored.”

Bilbo returned the embrace affectionately. “You are quite welcome, Gandalf. I am pleased that you like it.”

Gandalf stood up, to see all Bilbo’s other guests and family standing in the corridor grinning. Little Merry was beside himself, hopping up and down, and exclaiming, “He likes it! He likes it!”

“Indeed, Meriadoc, I like it very much.”

Sunday, 25 Rethe S.R. 1389, Evening

Bilbo had banked the fire, and now he went to lock the doors; not something commonly done in Hobbiton, but he had made a habit of it since returning from his journey to find his smial being plundered and his goods auctioned off. Then he padded along to the kitchen to fix himself a late night cup of tea; he would take that with him to his room. All his guests were finally abed.

He was very pleased with the way this day had gone. First of all, a chance to score one on the S.-B.s, something always to be relished. He allowed himself a smile at the memory of Lotho’s bruised face. Frodo had done a nice job there.

Otho had not been pleased to be threatened with an action at law by Saradoc either.

And Frodo had been overjoyed at the news he would finally be coming to live at Bag End. Though Bilbo had hoped it would be so, he had not been absolutely certain. After all, Brandy Hall had been the child’s home ever since he could remember. He knew Frodo was very fond of Sara and Esme, and deeply attached to little Merry, so he had been afraid that perhaps he would not want to leave them. But Frodo had not hesitated, and that pleased Bilbo no end. He would have to watch him though after they left. He was sure to be somewhat lonely for them--especially Merry.

Best of all, Gandalf and Balin had finally arrived, and his old friend had loved his new room. All in all a most satisfactory day.

_____________________________________________

Frodo lay awake in his bed--his bed, his room, not a guest room any longer--but his very own room at Bag End.

Such a day this had been! First of all, for Bilbo to tell him that he was going to live here now, that Bilbo was adopting him. He had dreamed of such a thing, but it had always been on some far off day in the distant future, not something to be had in the here and now. He thrilled at the memory of Bilbo introducing him to Gandalf and Balin: “My cousin and heir…who has come to live with me”.

Gandalf. He had met the Gandalf.

He supposed he might have seen the Wizard before. He certainly remembered those Litheday fireworks in Tookland, the summer before he turned five. Still, that was not the same as meeting him. But when he met him, and looked into those wise eyes today, he knew he was not only meeting a famous Wizard, but a friend, a good friend.

He had enjoyed meeting Balin, as well. The Dwarf was affable and funny. After supper, they had all sat in the front room, and Bilbo and Balin had told stories about their adventure together. It had been funny to hear the familiar story told from another point of view than Bilbo’s. There were moments, too, when Frodo could tell they were both leaving something out--they would look each other in the eye, and seem to skip forward in the story, as though by agreement certain things should not be said. Frodo wondered if Bilbo would ever tell him what they had left out. He guessed it was probably things that were too scary to talk about in front of Merry. And Gandalf had sat upon the floor next to Bilbo, chuckling and nodding from time to time. Every so often, with the smoke from his pipe he would make pictures of the story as they talked: mountains and trees, dragons and eagles. They had floated silently across the room and vanished.

Merry had cuddled close in Frodo’s lap, clinging tightly, finally falling asleep to the sound of Bilbo’s and Balin’s voices. Saradoc had lifted up his little son, and carried him away to his own bed. He did not even stir.

Which was why Frodo was alone right now.

Alone.

When Merry went back to Brandy Hall, he’d be here every night, alone.

As he felt the familiar swell of the dark sorrow beginning to surge, the door cracked open. A tiny form padded over and clambered into Frodo’s bed. Merry placed his hand on Frodo’s cheek and brushed away the tear.

“I love you, Frodo,” he whispered.

“I love you too, my Merry,” and the darkness rolled back.

__________________________________________

Gandalf sat in his new chair in his new room, breathing in the smells of new wood and paint and spring flowers and night breezes through the window.

His room. His place.

And the friendship of hobbits.

In a time long past, in the West, he had been reluctant to take up his task. And it had so far been a long and thankless one, with no end in sight.

But it had been worth it all just to have known the friendship of hobbits.

Monday, 26 Rethe, S.R. 1389 

Once more Bilbo shut the door to his study.

“So good of you to come, Mr. Grubb,” said Bilbo, “This fine young fellow here is my cousin Frodo. And of course, you know Mr. Brandybuck, who is Frodo’s other guardian.”

“I am pleased to meet you at last, Master Frodo; your cousin has told me a great deal about you. How do you feel about all this?”

Frodo blushed. When Bilbo and Saradoc had told him they wished him to be present as they talked with the lawyer, he had not thought he would have to say anything.

“Well, sir, I am pleased and excited, and a little bit nervous, too.”

Grubb laughed. “That is as it should be, lad. Now.” he turned his gaze to the adults, “I understand that he has a substantial inheritance already, from his parents?”

“Yes,” said Bilbo, “as you well know, Drogo and Primula left him well provided for.”

“Primula had a tidy sum in her own name, that would come to Frodo by rights,” said Saradoc. “It is kept in the strongroom at Brandy Hall, and has never been touched. His parents’ possessions and household goods are stored in one of the mathom rooms there, as well.”

Bilbo nodded. “And you, Mr. Grubb, are aware of his inheritance from Drogo; as far as I know it also remains intact, stored in your strongroom.”

The lawyer nodded. “Indeed it does.” For he had also been Drogo’s lawyer. “However, Bilbo, you must realize that once you have actually adopted Frodo, both those inheritances will pass into *your* hands as his parent, rather than merely his guardian. You will have complete control of it until he comes of age.”

Bilbo looked startled. “But I don’t want it! I want to provide for him myself.”

“Very well. We can draw up a separate document stating that the money and possessions of his parents will remain as they are until he comes of age and decides what he wants to do with it.”

Frodo listened wide-eyed. It had never occurred to him that he had a large inheritance from his parents, yet now he thought about it, it made sense. Primula had been Rory’s sister, after all, and no one ever heard of a Baggins that was not well off.

Embarrassed, he spoke hesitantly. “But--but don’t you think that maybe--maybe you should both have used some of that for my keep? I’m sure my parents would have wanted you to?”

Saradoc smiled. “It’s a credit to you to think of that, and perhaps you might be right. But it’s never been necessary.” The truth was, it had never occurred to Saradoc to use any of Frodo’s money. Living in Brandy Hall as they did, the family provided for its own as a matter of course.

Bilbo shook his head. “I want to provide for you, Frodo. However,” he smiled as an idea occurred to him, “if you would like it, we could arrange for you to draw a small sum from your father’s inheritance each year, that you could use to buy birthday and Yule gifts, and to treat your friends.” Perhaps that would be a good idea, the lad would learn how to manage his money that way.

Frodo grinned. “I would like that.”

Grubb nodded. “It can be arranged. I think, Bilbo, that it would be as well if Frodo’s inheritance were to become general knowledge. If everyone knew that Frodo was wealthy in his own right, it would put paid to a certain kind of unpleasant talk that is bound to arise.”

Frodo looked puzzled.

Saradoc sighed. “Certain people--I think you can guess who--may try to paint you as a fortune-hunter, trying to take advantage of your elderly relative in order to get his money.”

“That’s disgusting!” the tweenager exclaimed.

Bilbo laughed. “Yes. It is. But some people will say disgusting things, lad. Will you mind putting up with a bit of that for my sake?”

Frodo nodded solemnly. He’d no idea this adoption would be so complicated.

“Now,” said the lawyer, “we need to make arrangements for the seven witnesses and the red ink. I will be glad to draw all the needed documents up immediately. When do you wish to have the signing?”

Bilbo smiled. “I’d like to make an occasion of it. If we could do it the evening of this Highday, we could make a small party of it. That will give me time to issue invitations and collect the witnesses.”

“That sounds like a fine idea. I will see to it at once. I think that you are making a wise decision, Mr. Baggins, and that you have an excellent choice in your new heir.”

________________________________________  

While the business was being discussed in Bilbo’s study, in the front room, Mistress Salvia was taking a look at Merry’s hands.

“I think they have come along nicely, Mistress Esmeralda. If he will wear a pair of gloves, and wash his hands thoroughly several times a day, and re-apply the ointment each time, I believe he may be allowed to play outdoors again. I hate to keep little hobbits cooped up indoors when they might be better off getting some sunshine, fresh air and exercise.”

“Oh, Mum! Can I go out now and see Sam?”

“Do you have your gloves here, Merry?”

“You put them in my travelling case, Mum, but I haven’t worn them, it’s been too warm for that.”

“Well, put them on as Mistress Salvia says, and you may go out.”

Merry darted out the door and came to an abrupt halt.

“Oof,” he said, as he slammed into Gandalf’s knees. He looked up into the amused eyes of the Wizard.

Gandalf bent down, and lifted him up and up. “Good morning, Meriadoc. Are you quite all right?”

“Yes,” he squeaked, with a hint of panic in his eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my lad. Is this a bit too high up for you?”

“Yes,” said Merry, but even as he said it, he looked into the kind, wise eyes, and felt much less frightened.

Gandalf sat down on the bench by the front door. It was a bit low for him, but he managed. He sat Merry on his knee. “Is this better now, Meriadoc?”

“Umm-hmm” the little hobbit nodded. It was much, much better. “I guess it is silly to be frightened of being high up,” he said, hanging his head.

“Not at all, Meriadoc. It is perfectly natural. You are a hobbit, and hobbits are generally not fond of being high up.”

“Frodo doesn’t mind.” He leaned towards Gandalf’s ear and whispered “Frodo climbs trees! He’s most awfully brave.”

“I’m sure that Frodo is brave. But as to climbing trees, I think perhaps that is his Tookishness coming out. He has a great deal of Took in him, does he not?”

“Well, yes. But my Mum’s a Took!”

“Ah, so she is. But I think, Meriadoc, that you must take mostly after the Brandybucks. I daresay you swim like a fish.”

Merry giggled. “That’s what Grandda Rory always says.”

Just then, they saw Gaffer Gamgee come around the side of the smial with a barrow full of mulch.

“Hullo, Gaffer,” chirped Merry from his perch on the Wizard’s knee. “Where’s Sam?”

“Good morning, Master Hamfast,” said Gandalf with a twinkle in his eye.

“Good day to ye,” said the gardener, without looking. He was of two minds about the Wizard. On the one hand, he didn’t hold with Wizards and such, as lured hobbits off on adventures and made their unpleasant relations say they was dead. On the other hand, Gandalf had always been fair-spoken to him, and Mr. Bilbo was right fond of the old Wizard. Imagine making that fancy new room just for him!

“Where’s Sam?” repeated Merry, looking around to try and spot his friend.

“His ma needed him to home this morning. She’s doing her spring cleaning and she wanted him to watch Marigold.”

“Oh.”

Merry looked so disappointed that the Gaffer said “Mayhap they can come up after lunch.” He began to spread the mulch on one of the flower beds.

“Can I help?” asked Merry. Since Sam was not there, maybe Gaffer would let him help.

“Now, Master Merry, that would not be proper. But you can watch.”

Frodo had told Merry that sometimes the Gaffer would let him help, as long as he called it “watching” and not “helping“. Merry squirmed a bit, and with a chuckle, the Wizard set him down.

The door to the smial opened, and Balin came out. “Balin,” said Gandalf, “you are looking a bit thoughtful this morning.”

“Well, Gandalf,” said the Dwarf, as he sat upon the bench next to the Wizard, “as you know, I had hopes of interesting Bilbo in joining me on my venture this year. I thought perhaps he would have become bored enough here in the Shire to be ready for another small adventure, and he would have made a most useful scout, with his particular skills. But since he is taking on the responsibility of young Frodo, I can’t see him wishing to leave right now.”

“No, Balin, I can’t see him doing so either. I do believe he will get restless again sooner or later, but not right now. Being a parent is going to be quite an adventure in itself.”

“I know.” But the Dwarf sighed. “Still, as glad as I am to see him, I would not have gone so far out of my way if I had not really hoped to enlist his help.”

“Balin, I have told you that I think this ill-advised. The time is not yet right to re-establish Moria. This is bound to be more than just a small adventure, and far more dangerous than you anticipate.”

“I know what you think,” he replied testily. “But if not now, when? With the Orcs mostly destroyed by the Battle of Five Armies, the Misty Mountains are safer now than they have been in generations.”

The Wizard sighed. He’d had this argument with the stubborn Dwarf more than once. It wouldn’t do to have it again; it got nowhere. He just hoped that he was wrong.

______________________________________________

Esmeralda was sitting in the front room mending the shirt Merry had been wearing when Lotho had pushed him. She was still more than a little indignant over the injury done her son, and hoped she got the chance to give Lobelia a piece of her mind before they returned to Buckland. She chuckled as she thought of Frodo giving the great bully a bloody nose.

Saradoc and Frodo came out of Bilbo’s study, shutting the door behind them. Bilbo and his lawyer still had a bit more business to conduct.

“How did it go?”

“Quite well,” said Saradoc.

“It’s a lot more complicated than I thought it would be,” sighed Frodo. “Where is Merry?”

“The healer said he could go outside and play as long as he keeps his hands covered.”

Frodo brightened up, and went out.

___________________________________________________

“Now, Mr. Grubb, one more important piece of business: my will.”

“Indeed. That is a very important piece of business, and I am glad that you are finally ready to make your disposition.”

“It’s very simple: everything to Frodo. Every last copper, and everything in Bag End, down to the last dishcloth.”

“Well, that makes it easy for me.”

“One more thing: I want the will to go into effect if I should leave the Shire. I do not want to have any such difficulties as I had the last time I took a journey.”

“Mr. Baggins! Are you anticipating any such thing? Because I must tell you that it would be most unfair to the lad to do that to him now!”

“No, no! I have not made any plans to leave. But I also know that the unexpected can come up, and in this event, I wish to be prepared and not caught off guard.”

Grubb nodded. Very wise. Anticipating the unexpected was just what a will was for.

“Well, then, I shall get these documents drawn up: the adoption papers, the document securing Frodo’s inheritance from Drogo and Primula, and your will. I shall have them ready for you by noon on Highday. I look forward to seeing you then. Have you decided whom you will invite to be witnesses?”

“Yes, I have. I will send the invitations out this very afternoon.”

_____________________________________________________________

Frodo and Merry played Stones until time for luncheon. After a lovely luncheon, eaten in the dining room for once, because of so much company, they went back outside.

True to his word, the Gaffer had brought Sam and little Marigold with him. Sam was overjoyed to see Merry allowed outside again. Frodo put little Mari up on his back for a piggyback ride, and the four youngsters headed up the hill. They chased one another about until they were breathless, and then they flopped down under a tree and Frodo told stories.

Marigold dozed off by his side, and Sam and Merry took sticks for swords and played at fighting goblins, taking it in turns to pretend which was the goblin and which was Bilbo.

Then Frodo told them some more stories, until the Gaffer came to fetch his children home, and Merry and Frodo went down to tea.

Highday, 30 Rethe, S.R. 1389 

Frodo lay half-dozing, feeling the lovely dream of his parents slide away from him; in dreams their faces were so clear. When he awakened it grew harder and harder to remember what they looked like.

Suddenly the covers beside him exploded. “Frodo! Are you awake?”

“If I wasn’t before, I am now, goose,” he grinned fondly at the seven-year-old. He turned on his elbow to face his cousin and poised his fingers over Merry, set to pounce.

“No! No tickling!” Merry giggled and quickly slid out of the bed. “Can we be awake? I smell breakfast!”

Frodo laughed and swung his legs out of the bed. Some mornings Merry was impossible to waken. Other mornings he popped out of bed ready to go. It looked like today was one of the latter.

“I’ll race you to get dressed!” said Frodo.

Merry darted out of the room, slamming the door so hard that Frodo winced. Merry’s clothes were in the room he was supposed to be sleeping in. Frodo slowly got up and went over to the washstand to splash the cold water on his face, and then took his time getting his clothes on. He knew Merry would be rushing about to dress in the room next to his, but the lad still was not very swift in the matter of buttons and other fastenings. He had to dress slowly if he wanted his little cousin to “win”.

He was just pulling up his braces when the door unceremoniously popped open again. Merry rushed in. “I win!”

Frodo laughed. “Well, almost, sprout.” He took hold of the lad’s shirt and pulled him close, to fix the buttons that were not lined up properly.

“Oh,” said Merry, chagrined.

“Did you start at the top, or at the bottom?” Frodo was puzzled, as they were one buttonhole off in both directions.

“Oh, I started in the middle--it was faster.”

“Aha.” Only a seven-year-old could come up with logic like that.

They followed their noses into the kitchen, where Bilbo was frying bacon and sausages, and talking to Balin, who was the only other person presently up.

“It sounds like a most interesting venture, Balin. I do hope that you will write frequently and let me know how it is going. Perhaps in a few years, when Frodo is older, we might make a visit there.” He looked up from the stove. “Ah, lads, good morning! Are you ready for a bit of first breakfast?”

“Oh yes, please!” said Merry. “I am so starved!”

Balin laughed. “Lad, you don’t know starved! Bilbo, remember when we were in Mirkwood and had no food left?”

“Indeed,” said the hobbit, as he dished up two plates for the youngsters. “it was the lack of food that tempted us away from the path and caused all the other problems we faced. When one thinks one is starving to death, spiders and other dangers do not seem nearly so fearsome.”

Merry and Frodo ate their breakfasts and listened in fascination to the conversation between Bilbo and the Dwarf as they talked about their time lost in the forest. Gandalf walked in, carefully ducking through the door.

“And I seem to recall that nearly the last piece of advice I gave you was to ‘stay on the path’! I don’t know why I even bothered.”

Bilbo and Balin both laughed. “It was not so much disregarding your advice, Gandalf,” said Balin, “as it was that we thought following it would result in death by starvation.”

Gandalf laughed and accepted the plate Bilbo handed him. “Well, one is in no danger of that at the moment,” he said, eyeing the bacon, sausage, eggs, toast, fried potatoes and mushrooms that filled it. He sat upon the floor next to Frodo, and took the cup of steaming tea Bilbo handed him.

_____________________________

It was just before elevenses when the cart pulled up with the first of the guests. It was Paladin and Eglantine, with all three of their daughters: Pearl, ten-year-old Pimpernel, and four-year-old Pervinca.

Frodo and Merry were sitting on the steps playing Stones and watching Gandalf blow smoke shapes from the bench by the door. Merry was not catching many stones, as he was paying more attention to the Wizard than to the game. But when they saw the cart pull up they abandoned the game and raced down the path.

“Aunt Tina! Uncle Paladin!” Merry threw himself into his uncle’s arms. He was very fond of his Uncle Paladin. Frodo helped his cousin’s wife down, and then went to assist the lasses out of the back. “Uncle Paladin, Gandalf is here! And Balin, Bilbo’s Dwarf! And Gandalf has a new room! And we’re having a party tonight!”

Paladin laughed. “I know, Merry-lad. That’s why we are here. We were invited, after all.”

“Oh.” Merry squirmed to get down and hug his aunt. “well, I’m glad you got here first.”

_______________________________

After luncheon, the rest of the guests began to arrive in earnest. Frodo’s elderly spinster Aunt Dora showed up, accompanied by her niece Daisy and her niece’s husband Griffo Boffin; they brought their lad Folco, who was a couple of years older than Merry. Daisy’s father Dudo was Frodo’s uncle, but his health was poor, and he never went anywhere. Shortly afterward, Odovocar Bolger, his wife Rosamunda and their son Fredegar arrived. Freddy and Folco were fast friends, and were overjoyed to see one another.

Milo Burrows and his wife Peony, with their two-year-old son Mosco came about the middle of the afternoon, about the same time as Ponto Baggins, his wife Ivy and their eight-year-old daughter Angelica, and Ponto's brother Porto.

It was just about teatime when old Odo Proudfoot came, on the arm of his son Olo.

Tea was served in the garden, with the help of Bell Gamgee and her daughter Daisy, who had come up to Bag End to help cook and serve for the party. They had brought Sam and Marigold along.

Children were everywhere running about and playing on the Hill, delighting in seeing one another. The adults watched indulgently, and chatted. Most of them were more than glad to see Bilbo finally taking this step, and were pleased to have been called upon to witness it. A few were taken aback to find the Wizard and the Dwarf there, but it was only mild surprise. Gandalf was known to visit every few years, and Bilbo had Dwarves as well every so often. The only one to even sniff a bit was prim old Aunt Dora, who had never quite forgiven Bilbo for having an adventure and for almost allowing Bag End to fall into the hands of the S.-B.s at the end of it. She for one, was quite pleased to see Bilbo cutting them out altogether.

________________________________

“Mother,” said Lotho, rushing into the smial, “something’s going on up at Bag End. There are coaches and carts everywhere, and people all over. It looks as though old Bilbo is having a party.”

“Without inviting us? Well, that’s only to be expected if you will allow yourself to get drawn into a brawl with that Brandybuck of his. I guess I will have to see if I can find out what’s going on,” said Lobelia with a sniff.

________________________________

After tea, Mr. Grubb had arrived, document case and red ink in hand. All the guests were summoned to the front room, and it grew quite crowded. Grubb lay the documents on a small table that had been prepared for the purpose.

They began with the adoption certificate, which Bilbo signed first, and then Saradoc, as Frodo's co-guardian signed, acknowledging his permission of the adoption.

Bilbo called on his witnesses: “Paladin Took; Ponto Baggins; Porto Baggins; Odovocar Bolger; Griffo Boffin; Milo Burrows; Odo Proudfoot.”

The witnesses stepped forward. Grubb picked up the first document, the adoption papers, and read them aloud. He then placed it on the table. Bilbo signed first, and then each of the witnesses.

He picked up the second document. This one was a bit of a surprise, as he read it, securing the inheritance that Frodo already had from his parents, and stating that Bilbo would not make use of it. This was necessary, as normally any possessions of a minor were automatically considered to belong to the parent. Frodo was to be allowed to draw ten silver pennies a year from his father’s money, to be used as he wished. Several of the hobbits murmured at this; many had forgot that Frodo was wealthy in his own right. It was good to know the lad was not just a fortune hunter.

This document was also signed.

Finally, the lawyer read the will. There was no surprise that Bilbo was leaving everything to Frodo. That was the whole point of this, after all. It was a bit unusual to have a clause in there about it taking effect if Bilbo should leave the Shire, but considering the troubles Bilbo had the last time he took a journey, most of the guests thought it a reasonable precaution.

As the last witness dipped the quill and added his signature to the last document, there was a sharp rap on the door. Because the room was so crowded, Esmeralda was nearest, and could most easily answer.

She opened the door, and when she saw it was Lobelia, she stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind her.

“Lobelia.”

“Esmeralda.”

The two glared at one another like angry cats. Esmeralda spoke first. “Did you have an invitation, Lobelia?” she said sweetly, knowing the answer perfectly well.

“An invitation to what?” Lobelia was suspicious, and of course, rude as ever.

“Why to Frodo’s adoption party, of course.” She grinned maliciously. “I can’t imagine that such close relations as yourselves were overlooked.”

“What did you say?” she shrieked.

“Why, it’s the celebration of Bilbo’s adoption of Frodo as his heir! I do believe they just finished signing the last of the documents. Bilbo’s will, as I recall. He leaves everything to the dear lad.” While Lobelia stood there, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, Esmeralda stepped back inside and shut the door firmly in her face. She took a deep breath. That was fun.

Dora and Eglantine saw her, and laughed. From the front room, Bilbo called out “Who was it?”

“No one important, Bilbo, dear. No one at all.”

___________________________________

Once the signing was finished, they all removed to the big formal dining room, seldom used, but sufficient for all the adults and for Frodo, who was considered the guest of honor. The children all went to the kitchen for their meal, and were served and supervised by Daisy Gamgee.

Gandalf had a word in Bilbo’s ear, and excused himself from the meal. The hobbits did not think much of it. It was well known that Big Folk had very little appetites considering their size.

Frodo sat there, eyes shining, feeling every possible kind of emotion. He kept forgetting to eat, he was so overwhelmed by all this attention. Finally, the meal drew to a close, and Bilbo stood up.

“I would like to thank you all for coming and participating in this momentous occasion. It is a very special time for Frodo and myself, and we are pleased to share it with all of you who wish us well.” He turned a proud and fond eye on his new young one. “Frodo, would you like to say a few words?”

Frodo blushed. But he gamely stood up. “I just will say thank you to everybody, and especially Uncle Bilbo.” He sat back down abruptly, to the sound of clapping.

“And now,” said Bilbo, “ if all of you would care to follow me out to the Hill, we have something special to end the evening.”

With Daisy shepherding the children, and the adults all following Bilbo, they went out into the twilight, and as they all headed up the Hill, the first of the great rockets exploded overhead in a rainbow of brilliant color, and the sparks floated down in great spirals. All the hobbit faces turned up in great delight, and the oohs and ahhs followed the display of great lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire.* One rocket followed another and another, and then the Wizard passed out crackers and sparklers to the children, who ran about with them in great glee. He shot off one final rocket, which went up like a great fountain of fire, higher and ever higher, like a tower of light.

Frodo stood with upturned face, and Bilbo’s arm about his shoulders, and delighted in the wonder of it all.

And Gandalf watched the hobbits with a fond smile, and thought that if anyplace in Middle-earth could be like a home to him, it would be the Shire.

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*From The Hobbit , Chapter 1, "An Unexpected Party"