A/N: This was inspired by Shirebound's "A Hobbity Halloween" and Estel and Scamp are borrowed with her permission and many thanks from me :)

Trick or Treat

Aragorn's eyes grew wide as he ducked into the kitchen at Bag End. Covering the table and much of the floor were no less than a dozen pumpkins, large by any man’s standards, and simply enormous according to a hobbit’s.

"Bilbo, when did your kitchen turn into a pumpkin patch?" he asked, his eyes roving the room. At the sound of Aragorn's voice three curly heads popped up from behind the tremendous pumpkin sitting squarely in the center of the table.

"Estel!" Frodo cried, bounding across the room and wrapping Aragorn in a tight hug. Merry and Pippin crowded around on either side, worming their arms around Frodo and Aragorn so that they too could join in the hug. Racing in through the open doorway was Scamp, who skidded to a stop beside them and wagged her tail, barking enthusiastically.

"You’ve arrived just in time," Frodo said, his eyes shining.

"We’ve spent all day working on designs," Merry said excitedly. "Now we're ready to carve them!"

Pippin tugged on Aragorn's cloak until the Ranger crouched down and looked him in the eye. "Can you stay?" he asked, his eyes wide and hopeful.

The three young hobbits looked at Aragorn expectantly, awaiting his answer, as Scamp pressed her cold, wet nose into his hand. Behind them, Aragorn could see Bilbo grinning.

"I would not dream of leaving," Aragorn said, giving the hobbits cause to cheer. “In fact,” he continued, “I have brought plenty of provisions for an extended stay.”

“Sweets?” Pippin asked eagerly.

“You shall have to wait until tomorrow,” Aragorn said, smiling mysteriously.

“Come on, lads,” Bilbo said, leading them back to the table. “It’s getting late, and we must have these pumpkins ready for the trick-or-treaters tomorrow.”

“We each did four designs, Estel,” Frodo said, pointing to the patterns drawn in pencil on the pumpkins. “All we need is to carve them.”

“Perhaps I may be of some assistance,” Aragorn said, withdrawing from his belt a small, thin knife perfect for carving. Sitting on the bench, he pulled the first pumpkin toward him and cut around the stem. Frodo and Merry scooped out the seeds and when they were finished Aragorn began etching out a shape, closely following the pattern drawn there as the hobbits gathered around him, watching intently as their designs began to take form.

Bilbo and Aragorn sat in the parlour, a large bowl of sweets between them, awaiting the young hobbits.

“What are they dressing up as this year?” Aragorn asked as he sampled a small piece of a candy-coated apple. Scamp sniffed at the bowl curiously and seemed to wrinkle her nose, turning instead to Aragorn’s shoelaces, which she began gnawing on in earnest.

Pausing in his search to find a toffee amidst the slices of candied fruits, sweetened nuts, and chewy candies – many of which had been brought by Aragorn from outside the borders of the Shire – Bilbo glanced up with a grin. “You must wait a few more moments, Estel,” he replied. “As Pippin would say, it’s ‘a surpwise.’”

Aragorn grinned back. Fortunately he did not have long to wait; Bilbo had barely unwrapped his sought-for toffee when the soft sound of a throat being cleared caused both Ranger and hobbit to turn toward the door.

Just inside the parlour Frodo, Merry and Pippin stood in a neat row. Aragorn hardly knew where to look first, so intrigued and amazed by how detailed the hobbits’ costumes were.

At last he turned to Pippin and studied him closely. Attached to the back of the child’s shirt was a wide length of cloth, sewn in three places: at the cuffs, the elbows and just below his shoulder blades. Dozens of large feathers, which had undoubtedly been collected for many years, were sewn to the cloth, giving the effect of wings. Something that looked distinctly like very stiff, high-quality parchment painted yellow and twisted into a cone was held up by a length of string that tied behind Pippin’s head and covered his sharp little nose.

“I’m a bird,” Pippin supplied helpfully.

“So I noticed,” Aragorn said with a smile. “What kind of bird are you?”

“An eagle,” Pippin replied promptly. “Bilbo said they fly vewwy fast!” As if to demonstrate Pippin lurched forward, his arms outstretched and flapping, and zoomed around the room. He narrowly missed knocking over the bowl of sweets, which was avoided at the last moment by Aragorn scooping Pippin up and holding him high in the air, still flapping and giggling happily.

“That is enough flying for you,” Aragorn said, setting Pippin on his lap and holding him securely. “I would not want you to fly away from us.”

Still smiling, Pippin sat back, settling down enough for the Ranger to turn to the two older hobbits, still waiting patiently.

“Just as your cousin Bilbo has described,” Aragorn murmured admiringly as he cast an approving eye on Merry’s costume. The lad was dressed in a bright green cloak, and sewn to the back and hood were several triangular pieces of matching fabric, stuffed with either feathers or bits of old rags to make them stand up stiffly. Two bat-like wings were attached to Merry’s shoulders. “You make a truly frightening Smaug.”

Merry beamed at him with pride, and Aragorn returned the smile as he at last turned to Frodo.

“How did you manage to grow a beard?” he asked gravely.

The hobbits laughed as Frodo, his grin both proud and mischievous, carefully unhooked the bit of string tied behind his right ear and shook it, jiggling the long strands of brown yarn that hung almost to his waist.

“Very clever,” Aragorn said as Frodo replaced his beard and put up his hood. “Never in my travels have I found a more handsome dwarf, a more terrifying dragon, or a more magnificent eagle.”

“Nor have I,” Bilbo said, smiling. “You look wonderful, my lads.” A quiet knock sounded at the door.

“Have the children begun arrive already?” Aragorn asked, setting Pippin on the floor.

“It sounded like Sam’s knock,” Frodo said, heading to the door. “He and his sister Marigold are coming with us.”

In a few moments Frodo reappeared, his arm slung around the shoulders of a very hesitant Sam.

“You’ve outdone yourself this year, Sam,” Bilbo said, grinning.

Sam smiled shyly, obviously uncomfortable being the recipient of so much the attention. “Thank you, Mr. Bilbo,” he said before turning to Aragorn. “Hullo, Mr. Estel, sir.”

Aragorn smiled as he looked over the lad’s costume. Sam was dressed in an old grey cloak, with large floppy ears sewn to the hood and a long tube of grey fabric attached to his nose. “You make a wonderful oliphaunt, Sam.”

Grateful, Sam smiled and seemed to grow more at ease. “Sorry to keep everyone waiting,” he said, turning to the other young hobbits, “but my sister is having a bit o’ trouble with her tail tonight. She’s to be a cat, sir,” he added quickly to clear up Aragorn’s confusion.

“That’s all right, Sam. We’re going to pass Number Three anyway,” Frodo said cheerfully as he handed out the large cloth sacks that young hobbits traditionally used to collect treats.

“Here is a small treat to get you started,” Aragorn said, reaching behind the cushions of the chair to retrieve four small paper bags tied with string that he had hidden there earlier. He gave one to each hobbit and stepped back, curious to see how they would react.

The hobbits eagerly tore into the bags, staring in surprise at what they found inside.

“What are these?” Frodo said, peering closely at the strangely soft, white snack. Merry sniffed one curiously as Sam, his brow furrowed, tried to puzzle out what sort of treat it was. Ever inquisitive and hungry, Pippin wasted no time in squeezing most of one large, fluffy square into his mouth.

“They are called marshmallows in the Common Tongue,” Aragorn replied. “A confection of the Elves.”

“Ewffs?” Pippin asked, all wide-eyed delight as he chewed his way through the surprisingly sticky marshmallow.

“Elves, sir!” Sam cried, clutching the bag to his chest in joy. Glancing at each other, Frodo and Merry shared a grin before sampling their snacks with obvious enjoyment.

Bilbo chuckled. “Your marshmallows are a success, Estel. I doubt the lads will find a better treat this evening, though I suppose they will try.”

“We will,” Merry said brightly, glancing out the window at the darkening sky. “Come on, let’s see if Marigold is ready.”

“What about Scamp?” Aragorn asked, gesturing to the pup who sat at his feet, thumping her tail on the floor and watching the children intently.

“After last year we decided that Scamp probably doesn’t like wearing a costume as much as we do,” Frodo said with a grin of fond exasperation. “And so we are allowing her to dress as herself this year.”

“A wise decision,” Aragorn replied, remembering how they had struggled to keep the dog in her costume.

“Time for twick-or-tweat!” Pippin announced, grabbing Merry’s hand and tugging him to the door. Discussing which smials always gave out the best sweets, Frodo and Sam followed, with Scamp at their heels, barking excitedly.

Exchanging an amused glance, Bilbo and Aragorn followed the small procession through the door and sat outside, the bowl of sweets ready for the many children certain to visit Bag End that evening. Lighting their pipes, they watched as Frodo and Sam, Merry and Pippin, and Scamp too, headed down the path.

The path was lined on either side with the pumpkins they had carved the evening before, each one now sporting a cheerful smile or a frightful grimace, and lit from within by a flickering candle. They cast a pale glow upon the path, lighting the way for the young hobbits as they disappeared into the night, laughing.