I never would have been able to do it without her.

In which a young Frodo is left behind at Bag End for the first time for a day and a night soon after coming to live with his uncle. There should be no problems, right?

A/N: I want to give a special thanks to Queen Galadriel for beta reading this piece and giving me the push to get started with fanfic...

A groggy young Frodo stood wrapped in a blanket on the front steps of the Hobbit hole. He looked to the east and saw with dismay that not even the sun was up this early. Six thirty was much too early for a respectable Hobbit, but especially for a tween. As Frodo turned to say farewell to his uncle, he was pulled into a tight embrace. Bilbo had pressing business near Tookland concerning some relative or other and would be gone for a day and a night. Frodo would be alone for the first time since he had come to live with his older cousin.

"Now, Frodo-lad," his uncle said, trying fruitlessly to cover the worry in his voice, "You will be all right, won’t you? Bell Gamgee will be in to check on you now and again, and you know this is your home now, so anything you want, you can have. If you decide to go for a walk, be sure to tell Mr. Gamgee where you’re going, just in case something should happen. And, Frodo, please don’t miss a meal. You know how to stoke a fire, don’t you? Of course you do. Oh! I’m just going to miss you is all."

Frodo returned the hug. "I’ll miss you too, Uncle, but honestly, as long as you trust me, I’ll be fine. I know Brandy Hall is overcrowded, but I was practically left to my self." The lad still saw worry in Bilbo’s eyes and smiled reassuringly. "Besides, if there are any problems, which there won’t be, the Gamgees have graciously offered to help me with anything I need. And I promise to go to them if I do need help, and try and overcome my Baggins stubbornness."

Bilbo smiled, and then grew serious again. "Frodo, you are going to be the master of Bag End from today until tomorrow at luncheon. I trust you, my lad." He took his nephew’s hand and pressed the ring of keys to Bag End into it.

Frodo looked at the keys in his hand and then back up at his uncle. "Thank you, Uncle Bilbo. Good luck on your journey. And please don’t get eaten by trolls," he added with a mischievous grin.

Bilbo smiled as the first rays of the sun illuminated his own little ray of sunshine. What had he done before this young cousin of his came to live with him only a few months before? "Good-bye, Frodo lad. And don’t you get eaten by trolls either!"

Frodo laughed as his Uncle swung up onto the small pony and trotted off down the hill. A wayfaring song came wafting up to Frodo, and he smiled fondly as he went back into the smial to catch up on sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Frodo groaned and rolled over, pulling the covers over his head. He just wanted to sleep, but saying goodbye to Bilbo, early though it was, had set his mind working, and now he could not tame it enough to go back to sleep. Of course the birds’s singing, and the Gaffer’s hedge clippers beneath his window didn’t help either. Finally, Frodo gave in and rolled out of bed. He splashed refreshingly cool water onto his face

This was a fairly simple breakfast to make, and Frodo had become quite practiced in doing it. As he sat eating his delicious first breakfast, he thought how quiet the hole was. Much too quiet. There was no Bilbo to cheerily greet him with an "Oh good morning, Frodo lad! Did you sleep well?". And Bilbo wasn’t there to share breakfast with him, and to help do the dishes while singing and whistling songs about anything and everything. Suddenly Bag End’s halls and rooms seemed empty, dark and ominous.

But Frodo knew it was just his imagination playing with his loneliness. There was nothing to be afraid of. And besides, how hard could staying alone be? He always took care of himself anyway. Still, Frodo thought with a heavy sigh, he missed his uncle. There was not a doubt as to what he would do, though. He would prove to Bilbo that he could take care of himself and Bag End. He wouldn’t get into trouble and he would make the smial spotless. Maybe organize those books in the library. If Bilbo was really pleased, he would enjoy living with the tween a lot more. Frodo wanted something to surprise his uncle with; something that he wouldn’t expect…

Frodo rose to do the few dishes, all the while thinking of something he could do or make to surprise Bilbo. As he turned around to put the last plate on the drying rack, it slipped from his soapy hands and shattered all over the floor. Frodo stood staring at the mess in horror for a moment. Then he groaned aloud.

"Oh, no! I wanted to do something good to surprise him, not this! Oh wonderful! The first thing I do is only to cause more trouble!" Frodo stooped to sweep up the mess. What would his uncle say when he came home to find out that his nephew had broken one of his fine glass plates out of carelessness? Now Frodo really wanted to do something right, but what? As he dumped the glass into the waste basket, an idea struck him: a cake!

Frodo smiled as he hurried to retrieve a mixing bowl, a wooden spoon and a baking pan. The cook at Brandy Hall had told him how to make a delicious cake, and it had looked easy enough. How hard could it be?

"All right, how hard can this be? Just mix some ingredients in the bowl and throw it in a pan and bake it, right? Now, what ingredients?" Frodo said aloud to himself.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

About thirty minutes later, a very frustrated Frodo was looking into a large mixing bowl that was half full of some concoction that didn’t look anything like a cake batter. He had already dropped two eggs, spilled the vegetable oil, spilled a wee bit of milk on his shirt, and spilled some sugar on the counter. He was missing something though, he was sure of it. What had the cook at Brandy Hall told him? Going over the ingredients in his mind, the lad soon realized his mistake. ‘Sugar, eggs, milk, flour...’ Flour! That was the missing ingredient. Frodo unwittingly slapped the hand with egg on it to his forehead. How in Middle Earth had he forgotten flour? No matter, he would get it now. Bilbo kept it up on the top shelf in the pantry near the oven. The lad thought of getting a stool, but out of pride pushed the notion away. It was just as easy to hoist himself on the counter to reach it. He did this with little difficulty and cautiously stood upright. See, it wasn’t so hard. But he thought too soon. His foot slipped in one of the eggs, and instinctively he reached out to steady himself. His hand grasped the bottom of the shelf…and knocked over the flour. The bag tipped over, completely covering the poor lad below.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Something had told Bell Gamgee that she was needed up at Bag End, and now, as she entered the kitchen, she found she was right. Sugar was on the floor, with egg and some milk; the contents of the mixing bowl were splattered all over the counter and wall; and there was Mr. Frodo, completely covered from head to toe with flour, teetering on the edge of the counter. "Mr. Frodo!" she exclaimed.

Frodo looked up in surprise, but carefully climbed down before answering. "Oh Mrs. Gamgee! I-I-I’m terribly sorry for this mess! I just…I just…well, I wanted to bake uncle Bilbo a cake, but…well…"

"You went wrong somewhere?"

Frodo nodded. He looked so pitiful, covered in flour, with egg all in his curls. Distress was in his blue eyes. Mrs. Gamgee couldn’t help but smile fondly at the lad. "It’s alright, Mr. Frodo. Don’t worry. Let’s clean up this mess, and then I’ll help you make a real nice cake for your Uncle Bilbo."

Frodo blinked at her for a moment, then he smiled in relief. "Oh, Mrs. Gamgee, would you? I mean, it wouldn’t be too much trouble? I could surely use some help." the lad added with a wave of his hand towards the mess.

Bell chuckled a little. "Of course I wouldn’t mind helpin’ you. Come on, lad, let’s get started."

Frodo and Bell soon tackled the atrocity of cake batter and the ingredients that had practically covered the kitchen. When all was clean, including Frodo, Mrs. Gamgee took control of the cake baking process with the assistance of Frodo.

"Mr. Frodo, was there any of that flour left?"

"Half a bag, I think, Mrs. Gamgee. I’ll get it for you." This time he grabbed a stool.

"Thank you, lad." Frodo smiled at her.

In no time at all, Mrs. Gamgee had a delicious smelling cake in the oven. She sighed and then smiled at the young master. "There, Mr. Frodo, now you go and do something. You were a great help and I know yer uncle will be right pleased with it. I’ll sit here and watch the cake, makin’ sure it don’t burn, and I’ll call you when it’s time to frost it."

Frodo flashed her a grin. "Thank you, Mrs. Gamgee! I don’t know what I’d do without you!"

Bell smiled fondly as she watched the young lad race out of the kitchen. That Mr. Frodo, he was a special young hobbit, to be sure.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Frodo stood, his head tilted up, looking at the top shelf of the book case in the library. He looked longingly at the book he wanted to read. The height of the shelf seemed to taunt him. But, not to be overcome by such a silly thing as height, he grabbed a chair and pulled the book down. Nothing followed. The lad smiled triumphantly. He had finally done one thing without mishap. With an air of accomplishment, Frodo returned his furry feet to the ground and returned the chair to it’s former position. He whistled cheerily as he walked out of the library. But then his hip rubbed against something and he heard a sickening tottering sound. He whirled about in time to see Bilbo’s stone globe fall off of the small table on which it had been sitting. Almost acting on impulse, Frodo dropped the book and dove for the precious Dwarven gift. He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the weight of it in his hands. Gently he replaced it on the table. That was too close to disaster for comfort. A handmade gift from Gloin would have been irreplaceable, and Frodo would never have forgiven himself if it had been broken, even if Uncle Bilbo would have. "Maybe it’s safer to read outside." He said to himself.

On his way past the kitchen, he turned and called, "I’ll be out in the orchard, Mrs. Gamgee!"

"Be sure to wear your cloak, Master, it’s a bit chilly out there. Especially with that wind."

"Yes, m’am!" Frodo called, fastening his cloak about his neck and walking out of the green door.

It was truly a glorious autumn day. Clusters of flaming red and orange and gold were firmly set against a crisp blue sky. The cool breeze billowed the lad’s cloak and played with his curls, beckoning him to race. With his book tucked securely against his chest, Frodo happily obliged to the wind’s beckons.

The apple trees were laden with large, juicy fruit. Feeling enlivened by the crisp air, Frodo climbed one of the trees and perched himself in a branch. He plucked one of the red apples and munched contentedly as he read. This was the life, he thought. But as time passed, the warm sun, and the breeze softly singing it’s lullaby in the branches took their toll on the tween. Frodo dozed in the branches, his book open in his lap and his back against the sturdy tree trunk. His dreams were of Bilbo and adventures and apple tarts. He sighed and rolled over. Then with silent horror, he realized that he was falling, falling, falling....was this a dream? Why was there no floor below his bed? He didn’t like the sensation one bit, but he couldn’t cry out.

A sickening crack and a searing pain in his arm woke Frodo, and he let out a great cry of pain. He heard girlish squeals and looked up. Surrounding the poor lad were Daisy and May Gamgee and two other lasses. Frodo groaned, but for another reason besides his arm. One lass, Ruby Goodchild, the Gamgee children’s third cousin on there mother’s side, was squealing, "Ooo!! There’s blood comin’ out of his head! Oh, this is so disgusting! Oo! Oooooo!!!"

May stood staring at him sheepishly, pity and terror in her wide brown eyes. The older of the two Goodchild sisters, Violet, was more tomboyish than her piers. She was the older of the two lasses in a family of seven children, and so had been influenced predominately be lads most of her life.

"That’s gonna get infected. Look at all that blood! I hope you don’t bleed to death. Lawks! Ruby’s right! He’s got a gash right there on his forehead!"

Frodo was in so much pain it was almost dizzying. He wanted them to get help, but he couldn’t get his mouth to work. It was Daisy Gamgee who came to his rescue.

"Where does it hurt, Mr. Frodo?" she asked. Frodo barely managed to whisper the word, "arm", but apparently Daisy understood, for she turned to her squealing cousin and sister and assumed command. "Violet! Ruby! Stop your squealin’ and pesterin’! Master Frodo’s got a broken arm. He needs help, not a bunch of snivellin’ and starin’ lasses! May, you run back for Da, tell him Mr. Frodo’s broken his arm. He’ll know what to do. Violet, run to fetch the healer. Tell him to go to Bag End. And don’t over exaggerate either. Ruby, you stay here and help me get Mr. Frodo comfortable till Da arrives." May and Violet scurried off.

Frodo was shocked. Daisy had always seemed to be such a silly lass to him. She had hardly ever said a word to him, only batted her eyelashes and smiled. He had never thought her to be commanding, even in a crisis. Of course, Uncle Bilbo had always said you don’t really know a Hobbit until you see what he or she can do in an emergency. She was smiling at him now, but not foolishly. "Now Mr. Frodo. My Da’s handled plenty o’ broken limbs in his day. He’ll know what to do till the healer comes."

"Thank you, Daisy," Frodo whispered. He couldn’t cry in front of the lasses, but the pain was so terrible that he wanted to. He bit his lip until he tasted blood.

After what seemed like ages, the Gaffer came trotting up the hill and knelt by his young master. He drew in his breath when he saw the pitiful state of his young master.

"Now, Mr. Frodo, what’s all this? How’d ye break yer arm?"

"I-I fell out of the tree."

The Gaffer bit back a remark about how unnatural it was for Hobbits to go climbing trees. He gently set Frodo’s arm and placed it in a sling, eliciting only a few whimpers from the boy. Then, to Frodo’s humiliation, Hamfast lifted him and carried him back to Bag End. Even though Frodo’s cheeks were burning with embarrassment, he knew he couldn’t argue with an adult. And besides, he had to admit, he didn’t think he could make it home on his own two feet what with all the pain.

The next thing he was aware of was being put in his bed and covered by a sheet. He vaguely heard Mrs. Gamgee’s voice and felt her hand stroking his curls. The touch reminded him of the way his mother had gently brushed his curls aside when he was a sick little lad.

About twenty minutes later, the healer came and pressed a cup containing a bitter-tasting liquid to his lips. He resisted.

"No, lad, you must drink it. It will help with the pain," said the healer

"Not thirsty," Frodo murmured. But he drank some anyway.

Mrs. Mosswood the healer gently held a wet rag to the lad’s gash.

"It’s not bad, despite all that blood. This should heal in no time. ‘Course he may have a scar for while, but nothing we can’t handle." Then the healer exchanged glances with Mr. and Mrs. Gamgee as she gently washed the arm. With a nod from the healer, Mr. Gamgee placed his strong brown hands on the lad’s left shoulder, and the healer, without warning to Frodo, pushed the bone into place. The unsuspecting lad let out an agonized cry.

Mrs. Gamgee continued stroking back the lad’s curls. "That’s right, Mr. Frodo. It’ll be alright. That’s it. Shhhh, there now, see? The bone’s in place. Now the healer’s wrappin’ it up tight, and it should set nicely," she murmured.

"That’s right, lad, you’re lucky," the healer soothed, following Bell’s example. "This here is a nice clean break. Should heal in no time."

Ruby, Violet, May and Daisy were all in the room, looking on with wide eyes. Mrs. Gamgee turned to them. "Now, dearies, yer crowden the healer. Go and play now."

"But mother, we..."

Daisy never finished her statement, for at that moment, the healer’s apprentice dashed into the room. "Sorry to be disturbin’ ye’, but Mrs. Burrows is havin’ her baby and sent for ye right away."

The healer sighed. "Well, Mr. and Mrs. Gamgee, I am needed, and I have really done all I can do. Would you keep an eye on the lad for a while? I’ll be back tomorrow mornin’ to check on him. I’ve tended quite a few of your young uns’ broken bones; I think you know what to do."

"We do. Thank you, Mrs. Mosswood."

The healer smiled and sped off to Mrs. Burrows’ hole, muttering something about how a healer’s work was never done.

Mrs. Gamgee turned to the girls.

"Now what did you three want?"

"We want to help Mr. Frodo!" May piped up. Affirming nods from the other three.

"Now, Bell lass, I do think you may need the help. After all, I got the garden to tend to." Hamfast winked at his wife.

"Alright, Hamfast, I’ll take these young lasses’ help. I really am exhausted," she replied.

The Gaffer chuckled on his way out of the room. Poor Master Frodo, what with a broken arm and surrounded by all those little lasses. Just then, young Samwise sped past him. "Sam lad! Where do ye think yer goin’?"

"Mithter Frodo’th hurt!" Sam had just lost his two front teeth.

"He is, but the lasses are helpin’ yer mum and Master Frodo. You’d best keep out from under foot."

"Oh, pleathe, da! Can’t I jutht thay hello?"

Mr. Gamgee was about to protest, when Bell’s voice rang out,

"He can say hello to Master Frodo."

Sam looked to his da, who nodded before continuing out the door. Sam ran into his young master’s bedroom and stood by his bedside. "Mathter Frodo? Are you all right?"

Frodo opened his eyes and smiled at the gardener’s youngest son.

"Yes, Sam, I’m alright. Just a bit of a broken arm--nothing too bad."

He didn’t catch Bell’s sigh or the glances the lasses exchanged. Nothing too bad? This lad had just fallen out of a tree and broken his arm and gashed his head. But if he was protecting her son from gory details, than she was grateful. Still, saying "Nothing too bad" was not exactly the truth.

"How did you break it?" the curious youngster asked.

"Now, Samwise, don’t go asking yer betters about their personal affairs. It ain’t right to be doin’ so, especially when the young master’s in so much pain. Now, ye’ve said yer goodbyes, so off with ye! Go on and play."

Sam was about to leave when Frodo reached out with is good hand and caught the lad by the shirtsleeve. "Oh, Mrs. Gamgee, he can stay and help if he wants to. Besides, I think I need the company of another lad."

"No, Mum! We were helpin’ you!" May said rather indignantly.

"It’s true, Aunt Bell, you told us we could be helpin’ poor Mr. Frodo!" Violet put in. Frodo wondered why every one of the Gamgee children were all so eager to help him.

"Well, lasses, and lad, I don’t need a lot of helpin’ and neither does Mr. Frodo. The best way to help him would be to go and give him some peace and quiet." Besides, Mrs. Gamgee thought to herself, poor Mr. Frodo’s face is mighty red, and it ain’t from a fever. He’s lookin’ mighty uncomfortable, and I got to make him as comfortable as can be.

"Yes, Mum. Good-bye, Mr. Frodo. I hope yer arm gets better right quick," May said on her way out. Ruby grinned at him and Violet gave a small smile.

Daisy walked up to him and placed his book on the bed beside him.

"I found this nearby where you fell and thought you might still want it." She smiled at him in a way that made Frodo wish she didn’t live only just down the hill, and left the room.

Little Sam was last to leave. He stood by "Mithter Frodo" and put his hands on his hips in an authoritative fashion. "Now, Mithter Frodo, you get plenty of bed retht. Do what my mum thays, ‘cause she knowth how to take care of you. Drink plenty of water, and...."

His mother interrupted him. "Sam lad! Mr. Frodo will do as you say, now you need to leave him alone."

Frodo had to struggle to keep from laughing at the chubby lad standing near him and telling him what to do. Sam was twelve years younger than Frodo, and yet he stood there fussing over him like an over protective parent.

"Yes, Sam, I promise to obey your mum and to drink plenty of water and to rest." Sam smiled, revealing a large gap where his two front teeth had been only two days ago, and scurried out of the room.

Frodo’s eyes closed and he sighed deeply. Mrs. Gamgee assumed he was asleep. She started to rise when those blue eyes shot wide open and he struggled to sit up. Mrs. Gamgee pushed down on his chest. "What is it, lad?" she asked.

"Oh Mrs. Gamgee! The cake! I forgot about Uncle Bilbo’s cake!"

"It’s alright. I was goin’ to frost it right now. Settle down now, and you get some sleep." Frodo obeyed and slipped into a restless sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bell soon found that all five of the youngsters had gone to the kitchen and were now sitting around the table discussing whether or not there were tunnels of treasure in the walls, and that treasure or no, the larder(which had been thoroughly inspected) was certainly not lacking. Bell was absolutely mortified. "Ruby and Violet, what would yer parents say? And Daisy and May and Sam, what are all of you doin’ in Mr. Bilbo’s kitchen?"

"Mum, the latheth and me have been a talkin’. It’th almotht lunchin, and when Mithter Frodo wakes, we wanted to therve him lunch. Pleathe?"

"Yes, Aunt Bell, we’re awful sorry, but we really wanted to help you with Mr. Frodo, and we could make him a wonderful lunch. Please may we stay?" begged Ruby.

Five pairs of pleading eyes were turned to Bell, and she sighed. "Alright, but I’ll have no shinanigans, y’hear? And there is to be no disturbin’ of Mr. Frodo unless I say so. And no leaving the kitchen, either. Unless…well, if you want something to do, you all could give this place a nice scrubbin’ for when Master Bilbo arrives home tomorrow. Understood?" She was greeted with excited choruses of "yes", and "of course", and "we promise to be on our bestest behavior!".

So it was that Frodo was served a Gamgee surprise. A warm beef stew, concocted by four lasses and a lad (who showed exceptional taste in the seasoning of the stew) and of course supervised by Mrs. Gamgee, was served to Frodo at about a half hour past luncheon.

Afterward, when all had left Frodo for a while, under the assumption that he was asleep, the lad got out of his bed and walked around the room. He couldn’t sleep. He was too nervous. He had just gone and broken his arm and caused the poor Gamgees such trouble. What in Middle Earth would Uncle Bilbo say? His pace quickened as his mind raced. Finally, Frodo decided that he was too tired and dizzy to worry about it, and he lay down on the bed. The "walk" had the desired effect, and Frodo was soon fast asleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Bilbo paced back and forth on the floor of his room at the Laughing Fox Tavern in a small village near Tookland. His business had gone exceptionally well and was now done. It was that bothersome time between supper and dinner. He had had a long, refreshing nap after tea and was well rested. So why was he feeling so restless? His thoughts were ever on Frodo. Was he alright? Had anything happened? Was he afraid of being alone? Though he couldn’t explain why, Bilbo had a sinking feeling that all was not right at Bag End with his boy. He told himself he was just being silly, and that there was no need to worry about Frodo. He was a perfectly capable lad, and surely could take care of himself. Yet a gentle voice in his heart whispered that all was not right.

He hurridly stuffed his belongings into his pack and went to eat dinner. He payed the owner of the tavern, and told the man that he would not be spending the night and to have his pony ready in half an hour. Butterbur told his Hobbit Nob to fetch the pony. Bilbo and the pony arrived at the door in precisely half an hour. Bilbo tipped the Hobbit and rode off towards Hobbiton at a canter.

*~*~*~*~*

Bell stood stubbornly over her young master. He stared at her just as stubbornly. "Mrs. Gamgee, I am serious. It is only a broken arm. I can tend to myself for one night. Uncle Bilbo will be back tomorrow. You don’t have to stay here…And if you do, you will have one of the guest rooms, not the couch!"

Now was not the time to be Master Frodo’s gardener’s wife, but the time to be a mother figure to him. He wanted to stay home alone at night with a broken arm. Whatever he might say, Bell knew that a lad should not be staying home alone with a broken arm.

"Mr. Frodo, I’m stayin’ here and that’s final. If it makes ye feel better, I will have the room next to yours, in case ye need anything. I’ve some mendin’ to do, so I’ll be sittin’ up a while. Don’t you go protestin’ about trouble, young Master. I can bring mendin’ anywhere. Would ye have me be bored out of my mind?"

"No m’am, but you’ve already cleaned the whole house."

Bell clicked her tongue at him. "Don’t go there again. Now, lay down an’ drink yer chamomile tea and sleep. Don’t want ye to be tired for Mr. Bilbo tomorrow."

"Yes, m’am." Frodo answered.

With a fond smile, Bell left the room. This lad was most certainly a stubborn one, and those big blue eyes didn’t make matters easier for his opponent.

Bell’s eyes were beginning to droop over the scarf she was knitting for her husband. The grandfather clock in the Hall struck eleven thirty. The sudden opening of the door and footsteps in the hall startled her awake. She gasped at the sight. "Master Bilbo!" she cried, jumping to her feet in surprise and dropping her work with a clatter.

The bachelor Hobbit was just as surprised to see her. "My dear Bell Gamgee! Whatever are you doing…Where’s Frodo?"He added urgently.

"In bed with a broken arm. I’m terrible sorry, Master."

But Bilbo was already on his way to Frodo’s room. He knelt beside the bed of a surprised tween and took the uninjured hand.

"Oh! Uncle Bilbo, did your business go wrong or something? You’re home early."

"That can wait. What happened to you, Frodo?" The lad hung his head and didn’t speak for a long while. When he did finally look up, his blue eyes were bright with unshed tears. His voice was choked with emotion. "Oh uncle, I’ve been absolutely awful. I broke a plate, and my arm…and…there’s a cake for you in the kitchen." he added almost apologetically. " Mrs. Gamgee, oh, she’s been wonderful, she helped me with it after I made a mess of the first one. I’m so terribly sorry, Uncle Bilbo. Please forgive me."

For a moment Bilbo couldn’t speak. Here the lad must be in awful pain and terribly disappointed about having broken his arm, and the first thing he asked was how his old uncle’s business went. For at least the millionth time, Bilbo thanked Iluvatar for allowing him to choose Frodo for his heir. What had he done before the lad had come?

Bilbo suddenly realized that he had been staring at Frodo. "Oh, dear lad. I don’t mind about the plate, and the cake sounds delicious. As to your arm, every lad has to get a broken limb at least once in his childhood. And, if you don’t mind my asking, how did you break it?"

Frodo suddenly flashed a mischievous grin. "Well, some trolls kidnapped me and stuck me in an apple tree. Then one of them bumped the tree and I fell."

Bilbo laughed.

"How did it really happen?"

Frodo grew serious.

"I really was in an apple tree. I was reading and I suppose I fell asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was on the ground and I was in such incredible pain. Mr. Gamgee came to my rescue, and then the healer came. That’s how it happened."

Bilbo suddenly noticed how tight and pale Frodo’s face was.

"Oh, Frodo, it pains you, doesn’t it?"

The boy nodded. Then, as he was hit by an afterthought, he smiled.

"What is it, Frodo?"

"Oh, I just found the silver lining to this black cloud."

"What’s that?"

"I broke my left arm."

"So?"

"It’s not the end of the world, because I’m right handed. I can still write and read and eat!"

The two broke down into helpless laughter.

"Oh my dearest lad," Bilbo said when he had stopped laughing enough to speak. He gave Frodo a gentle embrace, careful not to jar the broken limb. "I am ever so proud of you. You did a wonderful job taking care fo Bag End."

Frodo looked up at his Uncle, hope on his face. "Really, Uncle?"He cherished the thought that his Unlce was proud of him.

"Really and truly."

Frodo leaned on his uncle’s chest and Bilbo stroked Frodo’s curls, each thinking how blessed he was to have the other.