Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

For an explanation as to why Aragorn is known in this series as “Estel”, please refer to “Quarantined” chapter 11. Thanks and big hugs to my Livejournal friends, who helped me think through several tricksy plotpoints in this story.

DISCLAIMER: Professor Tolkien’s wonderful characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night. I first introduced Gilly Brownlock, Hobbiton’s healer, in “Treasures” (one of the short stories compiled in “Seeing is Not Always Believing”). Although never identified in canon as a healer, she belongs to Professor Tolkien as well.

This chapter references “Force of Nature” chapters 7, 11, and 15; and “Quarantined” chapters 1, 8 and 11.

The Shire-folk ... chose a Thain to take the place of the King, and were content; though for a long time many still looked for the return of the King. But at last that hope was forgotten, and remained on in the saying ‘When the King comes back,’ used of some good that could not be achieved, or of some evil that could not be amended. Appendix A, The Return of the King

“Well?” Frodo asked anxiously. He lay on his stomach, his chin cupped in his hands.

“A moment more,” Aragorn murmured. He and Halbarad sat beside Frodo on the hearth-rug in the parlor of Bag End. With one hand Aragorn cupped Scamp’s head, while he gently probed the swollen belly.

“Ah, but there’s a bit of magic to Estel, my lad,” Bilbo said from where he sat nearby on the big, overstuffed chair. He recalled how the Ranger’s very touch had calmed Frodo while the lad was in the midst of that strange tree-sickness. And four years before, he had knelt by the fevered lad’s bed and somehow guided him back to consciousness. There was magic to him, indeed... and was much more than he appeared.

Halbarad looked up at Bilbo thoughtfully. He knew that his chieftain had revealed quite a bit about himself to their host earlier that year, during their recent encounter at the Old Forest. Bilbo had promised not to reveal to anyone – even Frodo – Aragorn’s background and hoped-for destiny.

“I know,” Frodo sighed. “I wish we could keep them, Halbarad, but Bilbo and I have grown used to taking longer and longer rambles about the Shire -- often for several weeks at a time. The Gamgees are happy to watch one dog while we’re gone, but it wouldn’t be fair to ask them to look after more than that.”

“I was surprised that Scamp remembered me,” Halbarad said, watching the examination with interest. Scamp, hearing her name, thumped her tail on the floor.

“I know,” Halbarad said, stroking the tiny dog behind the ears. “I remember.” He loved dogs, but since swearing his allegiance to the Dúnedain, hadn’t been in one place long enough to think of owning one.

Aragorn petted the tiny dog lying contentedly in his hands. “I find nothing amiss, Frodo. I cannot be certain, but I believe I feel three pups. They do not seem of an unusual size for Scamp to bear; I suspect that the birthing will not be dangerous for her.”

“Farmer Cotton told us the same, but I know Frodo is glad to hear it from you,” Bilbo said with a grin. He knew that Frodo had been a little frightened when it became obvious that Scamp was pregnant; she was so very small. If the father had been a much bigger dog, the pups could have been too large for her to easily birth.

“Yes,” Frodo said. “It’s so interesting to watch. I can’t believe it doesn’t hurt her when they do that.”

“My experience with dogs is limited, but there were several rather prolific hounds in Rivendell while I was growing up.” Aragorn smiled at the memory. “If all goes well... it might be a week, perhaps. Has Scamp been acting any differently?”

Bilbo nodded. “She’s eating much more, and moving carefully when she walks.”

“Sam and I built her a ramp so she can get on my bed without jumping,” Frodo said. “We also lined a basket with rags and soft fleece and put it in my room; she’s beginning to spend a lot of time in it.”

“The pups will be warm and safe, should they come when we’re not around,” Bilbo said.

“We’ll be here,” Frodo said confidently. “I want to greet our new Bagginses the second they arrive.” He reached out to stroke Scamp’s head. “Silly dog. Did you find a friend when we spent time in Tuckborough in the spring?” He looked up at Bilbo. “I suspect the father is that little white dog we met at the farm in Whitwell. Remember, Bilbo? The playful one?”

“Pippin is a Took,” Frodo reminded him. Halbarad grinned, remembering the lively lad.

At the word ‘supper’, Scamp stretched lazily, got to her feet, and ambled toward the kitchen.

Aragorn and Halbarad had arrived in Hobbiton that autumn afternoon for a few days’ visit.

Halbarad had never been inside a hobbit hole before, and was amazed at the size and complexity of Bag End... and at the fact that it contained beds large enough for ‘Big Folk’, as the hobbits called them. He brought with him the books borrowed from the house at Crickhollow, and was astounded at the extent of Bilbo’s library. There were few books in his village, and he looked forward to examining as many as time allowed.

After supper, Frodo took Halbarad down to the Row to meet Sam and his family. Aragorn remained behind to see to the horses, and have a quiet talk with Bilbo.

“Your visits mean a great deal to Frodo,” Bilbo said to him, setting out tea and cakes in the dining room. “I know that Hobbiton is usually out of your way; we are delighted that you and Halbarad are able to stay a few days with us.”

Aragorn took a sip of his tea. “It is; his family looked after him while he was recovering.”

“So, my friend...” Bilbo sat down. “What brings you this way? Or is it something you prefer not to discuss?”

“I am happy to tell you about it, Bilbo,” Aragorn said. “I know you have had many dealings with the Dwarves.”

Aragorn grew serious. “The Dwarves of the Blue Mountains have requested a meeting.”

“Not me, specifically; only that we send someone who has authority to speak for the Dúnedain.”

“And you have chosen Halbarad to accompany you, and not one of your more experienced men? He is very young.”

Aragorn nodded. “Halbarad shows unusual ability and promise -- not unlike what we all sense in Frodo. He needs only experience – in diplomacy, leadership... to learn to hear the nuances of what is spoken as well as what is not. This meeting, where he will stand at my side to quietly observe and listen, is part of his training.”

“The Dwarves wish to explore the hills north and west of Lake Evendim – to determine whether they are worth mining.”

Bilbo left the room briefly to retrieve his hand-drawn map of the North Farthing, and spread it out on the table.

“No one... exactly,” Aragorn said. “The memory of Dwarves is long, and they know that Lake Evendim is the ancient site of Annúminas -- the heart of the Kingdom of Arnor established by Elendil, my ancestor. They wish to continue the friendly relations they currently have with my people; thus, they ask to be granted formal permission to make their explorations.”

“Aragorn,” Bilbo said quietly, “have you considered that this may be a trap for you? To see whether or not a descendant of the Sea Kings yet lives?” As usual, he used the Ranger’s true name only when they were alone, and speaking very seriously about something.

“The risk is low,” Aragorn said frankly. “My name and lineage are known by very few, and I do not claim to be anything other than what I appear – chieftain of a wandering folk... a remnant of what once was. It is very courteous of the Dwarves to ask permission at all.”

“You will represent your people, and grant formal permission for the Dwarves to delve in your ancestral lands,” Bilbo said thoughtfully. “What will the Dúnedain receive in return?”

“You have an ancient phrase in the Shire, Bilbo, do you not? ‘When the King comes back’.”

”Yes,” Bilbo smiled. “I doubt that many truly believe such a day will – or should – ever come.”

“Nor do the Dwarves, I suspect,” Aragorn admitted. “Their loyalty lies with their own kings. And yet, they have made an intriguing offer – if granted permission to mine those hills, should the race of Men ever once again come into our own they vow to help rebuild the ancient city of Annúminas, which lies now in ruins. It is much to hope for, but perhaps such a promise might be of benefit... someday.”

“At the fulling of the moon, in four days, along the south shore. Lake Evendim is, at most, two days’ ride. Halbarad and I should leave Hobbiton the day after tomorrow, and when our meeting is concluded we will return to say goodbye... and hopefully greet the new pups!”

“At least this time, Frodo won’t be begging to accompany you when you leave; Scamp will keep him distracted.”

“I agree,” Aragorn laughed. “After all, he’s about to become an uncle!”

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapter 6, and “Reflections of the Past” chapter 3.

“Gandalf, Gandalf! Not the man that used to make such particularly excellent fireworks! I remember those! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer’s Eve.” ‘An Unexpected Party’, The Hobbit

“Givin’ birth is a mite messy, Mr. Frodo,” Sam warned his friend. “I’ve seen cows and lambs and such have their babies. And sometimes the mama needs help. But don’t you worry,” he said hastily, seeing Frodo’s eyes widen in alarm. “Why, you’ll have Mr. Bilbo with you, and Mr. Estel and Mr. Halbarad should be back from their errand by then. And Scamp probably won’t need any help a’tall, you know. She’ll know what to do, right as rain. Why, she’ll have those pups all cleaned up and fed and warm in no time, and you’ll be able to...”

Sam chattered on, relieved to see Frodo relax as he spoke. He straightened from where he had been lining up the freshly-delivered milk bottles in one corner of Bag End’s cold cellar.

“I don’t think I could bear it if anything happened to her,” Frodo said. “And to think that I used to be so frightened of dogs! Well...” he admitted, “I’m still not too fond of large dogs.”

“Don’t you worry,” Sam said reassuringly. “Nothin’ bad will happen. And when the pups start to come, you send someone to get me, day or night. Promise?”

Frodo laughed. “Your family won’t thank me if someone comes pounding on your door in the middle of the night, Sam.”

Sam sat down on one of the hay-covered ice blocks next to Frodo. “Don’t you believe it,” he said earnestly. “My Gaffer’s as taken with ‘that scrap o’ dog’, as he calls her, as the rest of us, even though he tries to hide it. I wish we could get one, too,” he sighed.

Sam shook his head firmly. “Dad doesn’t mind a bit when Scamp stays with us, but I don’t think he wants a dog about, permanent-like. When you first got Scamp, and May begged an’ begged for a pup, too, he said, ‘There’ll be no animals here unless they give wool, meat, or eggs, and that’s the end of it.’ We haven’t brought it up since.”

“Maybe we can think of something,” Frodo said. “There’s lots of time yet; Farmer Cotton says that new pups shouldn’t leave their mother for a couple of months. In the meantime...” He got to his feet. “Bilbo and Estel will have the ponies hitched up by now. Shall we introduce our Ranger friends to a real Shire market day?”

It was a beautiful morning, the air crisp and clear. Bilbo climbed onto the driver’s seat of the cart while the boys hopped in the back. “Are you certain you and Halbarad want to walk the whole way?” he asked Aragorn. "There's plenty of room in the cart."

“Besides, it will do us good to walk off that bounteous feast you call ‘breakfast’,” Halbarad smiled. He and Aragorn walked easily beside the cart as Bilbo started the pony down the lane. From their vantage point on the Hill, all of Hobbiton could be seen below.

“Halbarad,” Bilbo said seriously, “don’t be surprised if you and Estel receive something less than a warm welcome in Bywater. Even though Estel is becoming known hereabouts, Rangers – well, any Big Folk – are met with some suspicion in the Shire.”

“I understand, Bilbo,” Halbarad replied. “If the Shire-folk do not fully realize why – and by what means – your borders are protected, that only means that they live free of fear; we labor to keep it so. Truly, it matters not. Do not be troubled.”

It was a very mature and perceptive comment, and Bilbo realized why Aragorn was grooming this young man for leadership.

They arrived in Bywater after crossing a small bridge above a swift-running stream – ‘the Water’, as the hobbits called it. Looking around, Halbarad saw the truth of Bilbo’s words. He and Aragorn attracted some attention – some friendly and curious, some barely-concealed scowls – but for the most part, the hobbits they encountered exhibited frank disinterest in the Rangers’ presence. But his attention was soon diverted by the sheer quantity and variety of items displayed in the festive booths and pavilions lining the Bywater Road; it was nothing short of overwhelming.

“This is more extensive than the marketplace in Bree,” Halbarad marvelled. “The bounty of goods for sale here is...” His voice trailed off as he took in the enormous market. Fruit, fresh eggs, flowers, cheeses, meats, preserves, pies and cakes, pickles, ales, bread, toys, tools, seed, and finely-made leather goods were only the items he could see nearby. Further down the road would be stalls and shops selling buttons, pins, bolts of cloth, furniture and books...

“Weaponry,” Halbarad answered instantly. “I see small hunting knives and bows, but no mail, helms, swords...”

“No,” Bilbo said softly. “Not in the Shire. Not yet... hopefully, not ever.”

“There you be, Samwise!” Hamfast Gamgee called out from where he sat at one of the wooden tables, enjoying a rare day of leisure and gossip with his friends. “Mind your manners with Mr. Bilbo and his guests, lad... and keep that cloak fastened.”

“I will,” Sam replied, his eyes shining with excitement. He grinned at Frodo, whose pale cheeks were flushed from the crisp air. “What d’ya need to buy first?” he asked.

“Enjoy yourselves for a bit,” Bilbo told the boys. “We can shop after we’ve sampled some of Mrs. Rumble’s fruit tarts.” He handed a small leather bag to Frodo, who slid the coin purse carefully into a deep pocket.

“I never doubt you, my lad,” Bilbo said with a fond smile. He had discovered that Frodo, now so lighthearted and joyous about most things, handled money with a solemn responsibility. After the death of his parents, while living at Brandy Hall Frodo had been given what he needed, but pocket money of his own was a rare treasure. Even after five years at Bag End, Bilbo doubted that the lad had any idea how wealthy they were, or what he would someday inherit. He will make a good Master, Bilbo thought. He’s thrifty, fair, compassionate, and practical. He buys carefully and bargains wisely. There’s not an ounce of greed in him... and Lobelia and Otho will never understand why I’m choosing him for my heir. Never.

The five friends wandered about the market, spending an enjoyable time together eating and shopping. They took their time purchasing the items on Bilbo’s list, and loading up the cart with boxes, sacks, and barrels.

“Come with me for a moment, Halbarad,” Bilbo said after awhile, spotting a stall he wanted to show the young Ranger. “There are some books here that you might...”

Sam, Aragorn, and Frodo walked ahead, and passed in front of an open-air shop at which a vendor was selling a variety of ales and wine.

“There’s my dad,” Sam said, waving. Hamfast Gamgee waved back from where he now stood some distance down the road, talking with the West Farthing’s healer, Gilly Brownlock.

“That is something new,” Aragorn said. A crowd of children were playing outside the shop with what appeared to be thin metal sticks shooting off brilliant sparks.

“They’re called ‘sparklers’,” Frodo told him. “They’re part of the store of fireworks the Thain keeps at the Great Smials.” They stopped to watch the children toss the sparkling sticks into the air.

“They shouldn’t be so close to those barrels,” Aragorn observed in concern. Indeed, at that moment the shopkeeper came over to speak with the crowd of children, and started to motion them away. But one last sparkler had been tossed aloft, and was caught by the capricious breeze. The burning stick landed in a puddle of ale; instantly, a bright lick of fire shot up and a nearby cask was enveloped in flame.

“Run!” Aragorn yelled to the hobbits close at hand. “Sam, get out of here!” As Sam bolted towards the Water, Aragorn scooped up a startled Frodo and started to run.

Aragorn never heard the explosion. A mighty force slammed into him, and he lost his hold on Frodo as he was catapulted into the air. As the ground rushed up to meet him, something hard and solid struck him from behind... and everything went black.

Chapter Three – Taking Charge

“Travellers scowl at us, and countrymen give us scornful names. Yet we would not have it otherwise.” ‘The Council of Elrond’, The Fellowship of the Ring

Bilbo and Halbarad whirled about in shock as the tremendous blast ripped through the air.

“Where’s Frodo?” Bilbo asked instantly. “Do you see him anywhere? Or Estel?”

“No,” Halbarad said, looking quickly up and down the market. “Come, let us see if we can find them.”

“Bilbo!” came a sudden yell from the direction of the explosion. “Come quickly!”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Hamfast Gamgee had never run so fast in all his life. With no thought other than to get to his boy, he pounded past the remains of the ale shop. Some hobbits were already forming a line from the Water, passing hastily-gathered buckets toward the smoldering timbers. Others were embracing frightened children, or staring in disbelief at the nearly-disintegrated shop.

Frodo and Aragorn lay unconscious on the ground about a dozen yards from where Sam sat in shock, surrounded by debris.

“Sam!” Hamfast knelt next to his boy and felt for broken bones. “Are you hurt, lad?”

“Gaffer?” Sam whispered. The boy’s eyes were huge and tear-filled.

Hamfast satisfied himself that Sam didn’t appear to be physically hurt, then pulled his son into his lap and held him tight.

Only then did Hamfast become aware of a murmur of voices around them.

“It’s that Brandybuck lad.”

“Bet that Ranger had somethin’ to do with this.”

“He saved the kids’ lives, Sandyman. Didn’t you hear him yell? They ran off just in time.”

“He yelled, did he? And just how did he know what was gonna happen? No good comes of Big Folk comin’ in where they’re not invited.”

“Sam,” Hamfast said urgently, “what happened? Can you tell me?”

“The... the kids were playin’ with sparklers,” Sam said shakily. “They were tossin’ ’em in the air, and one... one landed next to one of the barrels. Suddenly things were on fire. Mr. Estel must have... he saw it, too. He yelled for me to run... and the kids too, and...”

Hamfast scowled up at the hobbits surrounding them. “Did you hear my boy? It were an accident, an’ the Ranger did his best to warn the kids away. He probably saved their lives, and my Sam’s life, too. Don’t go sayin’ things you’ll regret after.”

“Sam!” Halfred Gamgee ran up, out of breath. “Dad, what happened? Is Sam all right? Here, I’ll take him.” The strapping lad picked up his young brother and held him close, listening to his father’s account of what happened.

Sam clung to his brother, pale and trembling, unable to take his eyes off the scene before them. Mr. Frodo...

“Are they killed?” he sobbed.

“Shhh, now,” Halfred said, stroking Sam’s curls. “They’re not dead. Mistress Brownlock’s with them, and here comes Mr. Bilbo.”

Bilbo stumbled to his knees next to Frodo, who lay face-down on the grass near Aragorn. Gilly Brownlock was kneeling between them, her fingers at Frodo’s wrist.

“Don’t move him, Bilbo," she cautioned the frantic hobbit. "Let me see how badly he’s hurt.”

Frodo’s hair and clothes were covered in dust and tiny bits of glass and debris. A large, wicked-looking piece of glass was embedded in his left arm, and protruded through the sleeve of his shirt.

Gilly looked up as Halbarad began to check Aragorn for injuries, his face grave.

“Stop any bleeding you see, young man, and I’ll be there in a moment.” With that, she turned her attention back to Frodo.

“I’ll help,” Halfred said. He handed Sam back to his father, then pulled out a clean pocket-handkerchief and handed it to the Ranger. “I’m Halfred, sir, one of Sam’s brothers. I didn't get to meet you last evenin'.”

“Thank you, Halfred,” Halbarad murmured. He pressed the cloth to the back of Aragorn’s head, which was bleeding. “He was struck by something.” He was frightened by how still his chieftain lay.

“Mistress Brownlock will see to him,” Halfred assured him. “She’s a good healer, sir. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

“All right,” Gilly murmured to Bilbo. “We might as well get this done first off, before the boy wakes up. Do you have a clean handkerchief?”

“Always,” Bilbo said, pulling one out. “Gilly, please tell me---”

“First things first, Bilbo,” the healer said. “Hold his arm. Hold it steady.”

Fighting back his questions, and his fear, Bilbo grasped Frodo’s bleeding arm and pressed it firmly to the ground. With a quick movement, Gilly grasped the piece of glass and pulled it free. Instantly, she pressed Bilbo’s handkerchief to the bleeding wound, then wrapped it around Frodo’s arm.

“Now then,” the healer said, “let’s see what we’ve got. Help me turn him over, Bilbo. Be very careful... that’s it.” She supported Frodo’s head while Bilbo turned the boy gently onto his back. Bilbo winced when he saw the pile of small but sharp stones onto which Frodo had been thrown.

“Here’s a nice bump,” Gilly said, gently pushing aside Frodo’s curls. A swollen bruise could be seen on his temple. She pulled up one eyelid and nodded, then quickly felt along Frodo’s arms and legs and along each rib.

“Bilbo, I don’t feel anything broken, although I can’t be completely certain yet. I want to check his chest for bruises, and see if there are any more bumps or cuts that need attention. That arm needs to be properly treated. And he’s going to catch a chill unless he’s warmed up soon. Let’s get him back to your home, quick as your cart can take us. Just let me see to your friend...”

With that, she got to her feet and went over to where Aragorn lay.

“Thank you, Gilly,” Bilbo said gratefully. He took one of Frodo’s cold hands and held it, then looked around at the crowd of hobbits -- most still eyeing the two Rangers suspiciously. “Can a few of you lads unload our cart? We need to get Frodo and Estel back to Hobbiton.”

“We’ll do it, Mr. Bilbo!” several youngsters called out. They raced off to the Bagginses’ cart and began unloading the boxes and bags of provisions.

“We’ll have you all tucked into bed and tended to in no time,” Bilbo murmured to his unconscious boy. He gently stroked Frodo’s brow with his free hand. “You’re going to be just fine, my lad.”

“Concussion,” Gilly informed Halbarad. She continued her examination of the unconscious Ranger. “I think they both escaped broken bones, unless...” She frowned at Aragorn’s right wrist, which was slightly swollen. “No, I think it’s just badly sprained. Has he shown any signs of waking?”

“No,” Halbarad said, his voice tight with worry.

Gilly smiled encouragingly at Halbarad who, she realized, was probably even younger than she had at first thought. It was difficult to tell with the Big Folk.

“Your friend will wake up to a whopping big headache. One of these boards hit him pretty hard, I suspect, but his leather tunic and these boots probably saved him from the flying glass. What’s his name?”

“Estel,” Halbarad said, using Bilbo’s name for his chieftain. “I am Halbarad.”

Gilly nodded. “I need to check Frodo and your friend over more thoroughly. Let’s---”

“How is Frodo?”

“He’s unconscious as well, and may need some sutures in his arm,” Gilly replied. “He landed on some rocks, but hopefully is not any worse hurt than some cuts and bruises.” She wrapped Halfred’s handkerchief around Aragorn’s head and tied it off. “Are you and Estel staying up on The Hill?”

“The Hill?” Halbarad asked, puzzled. “Do you mean at Bilbo’s? Yes.”

“Good, good.” Gilly got to her feet and looked around. “No one else hurt, I hear... thanks to your friend.” She lay a gentle hand on Halbarad’s shoulder. “Can you carry him to the cart? If not, we can try to---”

Without a word, Halbarad pulled Aragorn into a sitting position, then maneuvered the unconscious man onto his shoulders before staggering to his feet.

“I’ll take Mr. Frodo,” Halfred said to Bilbo. He knelt and slid his arms under Frodo’s shoulders and knees.

“Be very careful, Halfred,” Gilly warned. “I don’t think Frodo has any broken ribs, but better to be safe than sorry. Don’t jostle him.”

“I won’t.” Halfred very carefully lifted Frodo and walked as smoothly as possible to the now-emptied cart. He and Halbarad lay Frodo and Aragorn side by side, then hopped in next to them.

“Hamfast, bring Sam,” Bilbo said. “Gilly should check him over, as well.” He untied the ponies, then climbed into the driver’s seat; Gilly climbed up next to him. Hamfast lifted Sam up to Halfred, then joined the rest in the back of the cart.

“Hamfast, would you reach into Frodo’s pocket and get our coin purse?” Bilbo asked suddenly.

“Here it is, sir,” Hamfast said, drawing out the leather bag and handing it up to his employer.

“Thank you. And thank you, lads.” Bilbo handed a few coins down to the boys who had unloaded the cart.

“Don’t worry, sir,” the oldest boy said. “And we’ll make sure your packages get delivered to your home.”

Bilbo smiled his thanks, and took up the reins.

Sam was still very shaken, and terribly worried. “Cushion their heads,” he said suddenly.

“The boy is right,” Gilly agreed, twisting around to look behind her into the cart. She nodded approval as Halfred gently eased Frodo’s head and shoulders onto his lap, and Halbarad did the same for Aragorn. “It’ll be a bumpy ride, but at least they won’t remember it. Be sure to let me know immediately if either of them seem to be having any trouble breathing. And Halfred, keep Frodo’s arm raised a bit, would you? That will help stop the bleeding.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Let’s go, Bilbo,” Gilly said. “I think they’re as comfortable as we can make them.” She leaned over to the old hobbit. “How are you doing?” she murmured softly.

“I can’t bear seeing my boy hurt, Gilly. But I also can’t break down just yet.” Bilbo took a deep breath, and dashed away a tear. “Maybe later.”

Gilly nodded, and patted his hand. “Your friend Estel probably saved his life. If they had been closer to that shop when it exploded...” She left the sentence unfinished.

“I know,” Bilbo whispered. With that, he urged the ponies forward.

** TBC **

Thank you, everyone, for your enthusiasm! I'll be on a trip next weekend (no writing time), so it may be a few weeks before Chapter 4 is written.

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapter 13.

WHEN THE KING COMES BACK

Chapter Four – A Small Complication

“A very nice well-spoken gentlehobbit is Mr. Bilbo, as I’ve always said,” the Gaffer declared. With perfect truth, for Bilbo was very polite to him, calling him ‘Master Hamfast’, and consulting him constantly upon the growing of vegetables ‘A Long-Expected Party’, The Fellowship of the Ring

Frodo had been startled when Aragorn grabbed him and started to run toward the Water. Then something seemed to shudder through the very air, and he was aware of nothing else until he realized that he was lying on something that bumped and swayed, shooting a lance of pain through his head at every jolt. It was painful to breathe, and he whimpered in confusion and reached out.

“We’re here, Mr. Frodo,” came Sam’s voice. Frodo felt a small, warm hand clasp his. “You’re a little bit hurt, but everythin’ is gonna be fine, you’ll see.”

Halfred and his father exchanged a knowing glance. Their family’s loyalty to the Bagginses was well known, but young Sam’s devotion had been absolute since the summer Mr. Frodo had been so ill. Despite their differences in age, station, and education, the two lads had somehow found in the other a steadfast friend. Their Sam, naturally nurturing and perceptive, and Mr. Frodo, so kind and educated -- yet uprooted and in need of security -- shared a bond that only the Gamgees and Mr. Bilbo seemed to truly understand and approve.

“We’re almost home, now,” Sam was saying softly. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Frodo, don’t...”

Frodo clung to the familiar voice even as it began to blur. He spun downwards, awareness fading. He lost his tenuous hold on consciousness as the blackness claimed him once more.

Bilbo stopped the cart only once on the way home – long enough for Gilly to rush into her home and grab her medical satchel. When they arrived at Bag End, she jumped down from the cart and took over.

“Gently, Halfred, I still don’t know how badly Frodo’s hurt. Has he been conscious at all? Good, that’s good. Halbarad, you’re doing just fine. Can you get Estel to a bed and stay with him?”

Bilbo rushed to unlock the front door, and watched anxiously as Halfred carried Frodo past him and toward the boy’s bedroom. His lad looked so pale and limp, and he fervently hoped he wasn’t seriously hurt.

Gilly bustled into Frodo’s room just as Halfred lay the boy down gently on the bed. A sudden worried yip from a basket by the hearth distracted her for a moment. It was obvious that the Baggins pup was heavily pregnant, and appeared to be aware that something was wrong. As Sam and Hamfast entered the room, a bit hesitantly, she made a quick decision.

“Sam,” Gilly said, “would you please keep an eye on that dog and keep her off Frodo’s bed? She needs to stay calm.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam said, relieved he would be able to stay. He sat down by Scamp’s basket, lifted her carefully into his lap, then began to pet and speak quietly to her.

“That’s a smart move, Mistress,” Hamfast murmured approvingly. “Samwise adores that pup, and it’ll do him good to have somethin’ to distract him just now.”

“I agree,” Gilly replied. “Hamfast, I’ll check Sam over after I see to Frodo and the Ranger, but I don’t think your boy’s been hurt... just a bit shaken up.”

“Gilly, what should we do first?” Bilbo asked, sitting on the bed next to Frodo.

“Start with getting that cloak and shirt off him,” Gilly said briskly. “Here, let me help you; He needs to be moved and jostled as little as possible until I’m sure nothing’s broken. Hamfast, would you build up that fire? The poor lad is like ice.” She sat next to Bilbo and unwrapped the improvised bandage from Frodo’s left arm, pleased that the bleeding seemed to have mostly stopped. After Frodo’s cloak and shirt had been removed, she gently touched his bruised chest. Frodo whimpered a little.

Ribs just bruised, I think, but the boy’s going to be in pain when he breathes. The bump on his temple is swollen badly. Arm needs sutures for certain. Boiled water, bandages, needle and my finest thread... perhaps some ice for the bruising, then willowbark or poppy for the pain when he wakens fully... Check that arm and his back for any other glass shards, and hope there won’t be any infection. But a bit of fever is likely anyway, that glass I pulled out of his arm was filthy...

“You’re doing a fine job, Sam,” Gilly turned to the boy sitting nearby. “The pup must be close to her time, and shouldn’t have any distress just now.”

“Dad,” Halfred said quietly, “I’ll just see if Mr. Halbarad needs anythin’ before Mistress Brownlock can get there.”

”You do that, lad,” Hamfast said approvingly. “I want to run down and tell Bell and the girls what’s happened.”

*~*~*~*~*

It wasn’t easy for Halbarad to negotiate through Bag End, Aragorn’s unconscious form slung over one shoulder and ducking to avoid the low ceilings, but he finally reached the end of the long corridor. Entering the room in which Aragorn was staying, he gently lowered his chieftain onto the bed and sank to his knees for a moment, breathing hard.

“I’ll fetch water, and get a fire goin’ in here,” came Halfred’s voice from the doorway. The young hobbit looked around the room curiously; he had never been this far inside Bag End before. “Mistress Brownlock needs to see to Frodo first, sir; he’s near wakin’, and in some pain. But she’ll be here as soon as she can.”

”Thank you, Halfred.” Halbarad removed Aragorn’s tunic, shirt, and boots, tossing them into a corner. He was aware of Halfred bustling around the room, kindling a blaze in the hearth and setting down basins of water and a pile of clean rags.

“How is he, sir?”

“Please just call me Halbarad,” the young Ranger said with a smile. “I don’t feel any broken bones, Halfred, and his breathing is fine.” Halbarad gently touched Aragorn’s swollen right wrist. “Your healer thinks this is just a sprain. No other cuts or bruises I can see, except where the board hit him. I wish he would wake.”

“He will,” Halfred assured him. “And you and Mr. Bilbo shouldn’t worry. If I know my mum and sisters, they’ll be up here soon to help out. They’ll make sure there’s somethin’ hot to eat when folks need it, and I’ll bring in some more firewood from the side yard. We’ll see to everythin’ that needs doin’”

”Bilbo will appreciate your family’s help, Halfred. I know I do.”

“Neighbors look out for one another,” Halfred said firmly. “Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo have been real good to us; there isn’t much we wouldn’t do for them. And... and Sam says Mr. Estel told him to run just before the shop blew up. I’m awful grateful. You just let me know what you need, and I’ll see that you get it. That’s a promise, sir... Mr. Halbarad.”

“How is Sam?”

“He’s shook up somethin’ frightful, but Mistress Brownlock doesn’t think he got hurt,” Halfred replied. He smiled suddenly. “He’s sittin’ on the floor of Mr. Frodo’s room with Scamp in his lap. ‘Keep her calm and off Mr. Frodo’s bed,’ is what she told him, but I think lookin’ after the pup is keepin’ him calm. Sam always needs to be tendin’ to somethin’, or someone.”

Halbarad nodded. He was doing his best to remain calm, himself. He considered untying the cloth tied about Aragorn’s brow, and cleanse the head wound, but decided it would be best to wait for the healer. He covered Aragorn with blankets and sat back.

“How old are you, Halfred?”

“Twenty five; just a year younger than Mr. Frodo.”

”And just a few years younger than I,” Halbarad said with a smile.

“Really?” Halfred asked. “Will you be comin’ of age soon?”

“It is different for Men,” Halbarad explained. “We ‘come of age’ about the time hobbits become tweens, or so I understand.”

“That young?” Halfred asked, wide eyed. “I can’t wait to come of age, but I haven’t decided on a trade yet.”

Halbarad touched the silver star pinned to his cloak, and smiled. “I have,” he whispered softly.

“Nnnng...” Aragorn mumbled, stirring slightly. Halbarad watched him anxiously.

“Aragorn... I mean...” Halbarad remembered where he was, and that a hobbit was listening. “Estel, can you hear me?”

Aragorn’s grey eyes, so like Halbarad’s own, flickered opened for a moment and focused on Halbarad’s face.

“Captain...” Aragorn sighed, before slipping back into unconsciousness.

Halbarad stared at his chieftain, a sudden fear growing in his heart.

“What did you call me?”

** TBC **

WHEN THE KING COMES BACK

Chapter Five – Assessing Hurts

“We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner!” ‘An Unexpected Party,’ The Hobbit

As Frodo slowly regained consciousness he was completely disoriented, and hurting all over. He couldn’t quite manage to open his eyes yet, but knew he was lying on his right side, on something soft... a bed? He felt a hand cupping the back of his aching head, and something cold was being held to his brow. His chest hurt with every breath, and his stomach felt slightly queasy. But the worst was what felt like someone pricking the back of his left arm with a needle. He tried to move his arm away, but there was a murmur of voices around him, then strong hands holding him still.

Halfred returned to Frodo’s room with an armload of firewood.

“Frodo’s waking, Halfred,” the healer said as Frodo began to whimper and struggle. “Could you hold his arm steady? I’m nearly finished suturing; the lad slept through the worst of it, at least.”

Halfred quickly dropped the small logs into the grate by the hearth, brushed the dirt off his hands, and sat on the bed. He quickly grasped Frodo’s upper arm above and below the gash Mistress Brownlock was sewing up, averting his eyes from the sight of the needle and bloody thread.

“You needn’t watch,” Gilly said softly. She looked up at Bilbo, who sat propped up against the headboard. A bowl filled with water and ice chips was on the table next to the bed. Bilbo held a cold, wrung-out cloth to Frodo’s bruised forehead with one hand and was gently holding the boy’s head still with the other. It was awkward, with Frodo lying on his side, but Gilly had needed to wash and suture the back of Frodo’s left arm without lying the boy on his bruised chest.

“What do you need, Gilly?” Bilbo asked anxiously. He dropped the cloth on the bed when Frodo began to stir and moan.

“No, put that back on his forehead,” Gilly insisted. “The bruise is already going down a little. Try to keep him still. We need to...” She thought quickly. “Sam, if you bring that pup to the bed, can you keep her from running around? Let Frodo see her. Talk to him, Sam. Keep him distracted while I finish up here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam said. He quickly reached into Scamp’s basket and, drawing out one of the old, soft towels lining it, wrapped her in it before she could get away from him. He then got to his feet and deposited the tiny dog just under Frodo’s chin. Scamp poked her head out of the towel, relieved to be nearer to her master.

Frodo’s eyes fluttered open as Scamp’s tongue began to lick his face.

“What...” Frodo tried to get up, but there were too many hands holding him down. He winced as the painful pricking in his arm started up again. “Bilbo?”

“I’m here, Frodo lad,” came the beloved voice.

“Don’t move, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said firmly, kneeling next to the bed where Frodo could see him. “You’re a bit hurt, and we’re seein’ to you. You’re gonna be fine. Mistress Brownlock will have your arm fixed up in just a minute.”

“S... Sam?” Frodo’s blue eyes slowly focused on his friend. Sam’s hair and clothes were dusty, and it appeared that his friend had been crying. “You’re all dirty...”

“He’s lucky that dirty is all he is, Mr. Frodo.” Halfred Gamgee’s voice came from somewhere behind him. “Luck, and Mr. Estel.”

“Estel!” Frodo tried to piece things together through the pounding headache. “We were watching the sparklers, and I was looking around for Bilbo. Estel picked me up suddenly... Did something happen?”

“There was an accident,” Bilbo said. “An explosion. Estel saved a lot of lives today.”

“Where is he?” Frodo asked anxiously. “I want to see him.”

“He was a little hurt, like you,” Bilbo said, keeping his voice calm and reassuring. “He’s just down the hall, and Gilly will check on him as soon as...”

“Finished,” Gilly said, snipping the end of the thread. She wrapped Frodo’s arm in a clean cloth. “All right, Halfred, you can let go. Frodo, I’m going to help you onto your back. Bilbo, a pillow under his head, please. Don’t let that dog run about, Sam...”

“She won’t,” Sam assured him.

“There we go,” Gilly said, settling Frodo onto his back.

Frodo frowned up at the healer. “Hullo, Cousin Gilly. What did you do to my arm?” His eyes widened as he noticed the bloodied cloth on the table next to the bed.

“Just sewed up a bit of a cut,” Gilly said lightly. She looked into Frodo’s eyes, which were full of pain and confusion. The boy’s breathing was shallow and labored, and he was pale.

“How are you feeling, Frodo?”

“I... My head hurts, and my chest, and... dizzy...” Frodo felt as if a pony cart had run him over, leaving him aching and sore. His arm stung with pain.

Gilly moved a finger back and forth in front of Frodo’s face. “Can you follow my finger without moving your head, Frodo? Can you hear my voice clearly?” When the boy nodded, she gently touched her fingers to Frodo’s abdomen and belly below the ribs, watching carefully to see if the boy winced or flinched. Satisfied that he had probably escaped internal injuries, she smiled at Bilbo, then pulled a paper packet out of her satchel. She unfolded it, then spooned a small amount of the powder it contained into a glass of water.

“Did something hit me?” Frodo asked, still trying to sort out his memories of the day.

“Practically the entire ale shop,” Bilbo said lightly. He dipped the cloth into the icy water, wrung it out, and pressed it gently back on Frodo’s forehead. “You were thrown quite a distance, Frodo lad. You landed on some rocks.”

Frodo’s right hand strayed to his sore chest, which he suddenly realized was bare. He looked down with an effort, relieved that he still had his breeches on. Mistress Brownlock was a healer, and family; but still...

Gilly chuckled knowingly. “I have something for you to drink, Frodo, then I’ll let Bilbo and Halfred help you into a nightshirt while I check on your friend.” She finished mixing the medicine, and motioned for Halfred to lift Frodo’s head slightly so he could drink.

“That’s a good lad,” the healer said as Frodo dutifully drank down the potion. “It’s just a mild dilution of poppy, Bilbo,” she continued softly. “It’s safe for him to sleep a bit more, and he’ll rest and breathe more easily if the pain is eased.”

“Thank you, Gilly,” Bilbo said. He took a deep breath in weariness and relief. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

Gilly smiled, and patted Frodo gently on the cheek. “I’ll see to your brave Ranger. He’s quite the hero. How’s he doing, Halfred?”

“He woke up just for a minute,” Halfred told her. “Mr. Halbarad seemed a bit upset; I think Mr. Estel said somethin’ that confused him.”

“I need to examine him,” Gilly said. “And Sam, don’t leave; I want to check you over, too.” She took up her satchel and left the room.

“Sam, are you hurt?” Frodo asked suddenly. “How about all those children, were they...”

“No, Mr. Frodo,” Sam reassured him. He sat on the bed and took his friend’s hand. “All the kids were warned off by Mr. Estel. It was just...” He shuddered as he remembered Frodo and Aragorn lying so still, nearly covered in debris. “You were the only two hurt,” he whispered.

“I want to see Estel,” Frodo pleaded.

“You will,” Bilbo said soothingly. “We’ll let Gilly tend to him, and she’ll let us know how he’s doing. Halbarad’s with him, too.” He winked at Halfred. “Something smells wonderful.”

“That’s my ma’s vegetable soup, Mr. Bilbo. Beg your pardon, sir, but she and my sisters have taken over your kitchen.”

Frodo was distracted for a moment. “Sam, don’t forget that Scamp needs to eat more. She should go outside for a bit later, and... we have to...”

“I’ll take care of everythin’, Mr. Frodo,” Sam assured him. He patted Scamp, who seemed content to simply lie quietly where she could watch Frodo’s face.

“My goodness, Frodo lad,” Bilbo chuckled, “the mischief you and Estel get into every time he visits! Most unnatural for a hobbit, you know.” Bilbo kept talking, and watched with relief as Frodo slowly relaxed. The affectionate teasing that Frodo so loved was the best medicine Bilbo could think to offer. “There must be more Took blood in you than we thought. And what will young Samwise think, witnessing all these adventures and misdeeds?”

“You’re the adventurous one, Bilbo.”

“Nonsense. What an idea! Why if you ask me, it was all Gandalf’s fault in the first place. When he...”

The sedative Gilly had given Frodo began to dull the various pains, and his eyes fluttered closed as he grew very drowsy. Scamp pushed her wet nose under his hand, then he felt Sam get up. A light blanket settled over him.

“Don’t let Estel and Halbarad leave before I see them,” he murmured.

I doubt that Estel will be leaving tomorrow, Bilbo thought, and Halbarad may need some convincing...

Frodo sank into a deep sleep to the sound of Bilbo’s voice... and the soothing feel of his uncle’s hand stroking his hair.

** TBC **

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapters 1 and 3, and “Reflections of the Past” chapter 3.

“Lonely men are we, Rangers of the wild, hunters – but hunters ever of the servants of the Enemy.” ‘The Council of Elrond’, The Fellowship of the Ring

The trouble with Bag End, Halbarad reflected, was that you couldn’t pace. That is, anyone not a hobbit couldn’t pace... back and forth, as he desperately needed to do. He sat in the chair next to Aragorn’s bed and clutched the cup of hot tea Sam’s sister Daisy had brought him.

“Here we are, young man,” came a calm voice from the doorway. “Sorry to have taken so long, but Frodo’s arm needed suturing.”

“I know,” Halbarad said, relieved to see the healer bustle into the room and set her satchel on the bed. “Halfred and his sisters have been dashing in and out, letting me know what’s happening.” He watched, somewhat amused, as Gilly hoisted herself up onto the Man-sized bed and drew back the blanket covering Aragorn’s upper body.

“I wanted to check his head wound,” Halbarad continued, “but I do not know much about such things. Halfred brought some ice, and I--”

“You did well,” Gilly said. She nodded approvingly at the ice pack on Aragorn’s sprained wrist, then bandaged the wrist properly. She then checked his well-muscled chest and arms for injuries.

“I saw no other injuries,” Halbarad told her, helping the healer roll Aragorn onto his side. “Whatever knocked him unconscious must have only hit his head.”

“I agree,” Gilly said. “I see no other bruises or cuts. He was quite fortunate. There we go...” Halbarad settled his chieftain onto his back once again. “I understand he regained consciousness for a time?”

“He… was unsure who I was,” Halbarad continued, wondering how much to reveal about the identity of his chieftain. “He called me ‘Captain’.”

When Gilly had seen them at the market, both Rangers were dressed identically in sturdy cloaks clasped with a star-shaped pin. There was no sign of rank or leadership visible on either, and she doubted that either of these men was a captain of anything -- let alone the wandering folk known as Rangers.

“Let me see what we’ve got here,” Gilly murmured soothingly. She hoped her face was betraying none of her concern; memory loss occasionally resulted from a head injury, but she had never personally encountered it before. Hopefully, the injured Ranger would heal quickly. She unwound the cloth tied about his brow. She parted the Man’s long hair to examine the swollen bruise, and gently probed the injury for any bits of glass.

While Halbarad stood by with clean cloths, Gilly cleaned Aragorn’s head wound first with soap and water, then an antiseptic solution from her satchel. She was relieved when her patient stirred slightly, his eyelids flickering. A good sign, she thought. He’s on the verge of waking…

“That’s all I can do for the moment,” Gilly said, re-wrapping a clean bandage about Aragorn’s brow. She patted the Ranger’s cheek gently. “Estel? Estel, can you hear me?”

I swear to you, Gandalf, that the Dúnedain will not fail to protect the Shire from intrusion. This land will be kept safe, and the halflings will know only peace.

From a fog of swirling images and memories, Aragorn opened his eyes with an effort. As his blurred vision cleared, he realized that a female hobbit with kind, thoughtful eyes was gazing down at him.

“This is... Bag End,” Aragorn said, looking around the room. “Captain...” His eyes lit on Halbarad.

“A moment, Halbarad,” Gilly cautioned. “Estel, my name is Gilly. I know your head must ache dreadfully, but I need to know if you feel pain anywhere else.”

Seeing the man pale beneath his tan, Gilly quickly motioned for Halbarad to bring her a basin. But Halbarad was already in motion, moving quickly to the bed and holding his chieftain with one arm and the basin with the other as Aragorn began to vomit. Finally, Aragorn sank back weakly onto the pillow.

“It’s all right,” Gilly said, wiping his face with a clean, damp cloth. “You were hit quite hard with a piece of board, most likely. No other pains?”

“No,” Aragorn murmured. “What happened after... Is Frodo well? And Sam? What of the children who--”

“Sam is fine, as are all the hobbits you warned off,” Gilly told him. “Frodo was injured, Estel, but not badly. You can see him tomorrow.”

“Just rest now,” Gilly said softly. She hopped off the bed and motioned Halbarad to join her in the hallway.

“Estel may sleep quite a bit for a few days, Halbarad, so don’t let it frighten you. I left a mild sleep potion for Frodo, but Estel may not require it. He’ll no doubt be quite dizzy for a time. Don’t be alarmed if he grows slightly feverish tonight; he and Frodo both may suffer a bit of infection, although I tried to clean both their wounds as thoroughly as possible.”

“Don’t worry overmuch,” Gilly said, smiling up at the worried young Ranger. “Estel seems strong, and head injuries can be quite unpredictable. His thoughts may clear quickly, once the swelling goes down and he’s had a chance to rest.”

“Now then, I need to give Sam a quick check, then it’s home to start supper for my children. I’ll be back tomorrow morning, but Bilbo will send someone to fetch me if there’s any emergency before then.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” Halbarad said gratefully. Inside, however, his thoughts were tumbling wildly. Tomorrow morning... He couldn’t possibly leave Aragorn, and yet... what would the Dwarves think if none of the Dúnedain came to meet with them? He wished Thalguron was here, or even...

“Because you do not... remember me,” Halbarad said. “You call me ‘Captain’.”

“But it is you who lead our people,” Aragorn insisted. “I trust you with my life.”

“As I trust you with mine,” Halbarad said with a smile. “However, it is you who lead us. Mistress Brownlock said your thoughts should clear as your wound heals. Do not let this matter concern you.”

“But tomorrow we must ride north!” Aragorn said. He tried to rise, but the headache and dizziness were too overwhelming. “I was to stand at your side, and...”

Halbarad sighed. “I do not know what to do about tomorrow. You cannot travel. Can you tell me exactly where the Dwarves were to meet us, and what you planned to say to them?”

Halbarad shook his head and got to his feet. “I will bring fresh water. Just rest, Aragorn.”

Halbarad stared at him. “It is the name your father gave you.” He thought for a moment, then went to where Aragorn’s weapons stood propped against the wall. Ignoring the knives, bow and quiver, he reverently lifted a sheath engraved with Elvish letters and brought it to the bed.

“This sheath holds what remains of Narsil, the sword used by Elendil to cut the Enemy’s ring from his hand. You are the keeper of these shards, Aragorn, as the direct descendant of Elendil. You are our chieftain and the hope of all peoples.” He rested a hand to his heart for a moment, his eyes shining.

Aragorn stared at the sheath in wonder and confusion. Halbarad would not lie. How is it that I do not remember this?

Halbarad was startled to see something in his chieftain’s eyes he had never before seen – pain, fear... vulnerability. He wondered how often Aragorn saw these same things mirrored in his own eyes. He stood straighter, a new resolve filling him.

Should I represent our people in front of the Dwarves, I will stand before them as Aragorn would – with confidence and dignity… even if I do not fully believe that those qualities are as yet part of me.

Gilly returned to Frodo’s room and smiled at the sight of the lad, clad in a pale blue nightshirt, sound asleep. Curled next to one lax hand was Scamp, also asleep, and Sam was just sliding a cunning wooden ramp into place next to the bed.

“It’s so Scamp can get on and off the bed,” Sam explained. “She’s waddlin’ so much now, she can’t go jumpin’ up and down like before.”

“Very clever,” Gilly nodded. She removed the cloth from Frodo’s forehead. “The swelling is down considerably. I think we can leave this off now. Sam, I saw your father bringing up more ice from the cellar, and asked him to join us when he’s finished. Has everyone else gone?”

“I think Mr. Bilbo’s in the pantry,” Sam replied. “Boys from town brought up the groceries he bought today, and he’s puttin’ away the last of things. Halfred and my mum and sisters have gone home for a bit, to do chores and start supper. And... Mr. Bilbo asked if I could stay here tonight, to look after Scamp and run any errands needed.”

“I know Bilbo is very grateful to have you nearby, Sam,” Gilly said. “He and Frodo think the world of you and your family.”

“It’s t’other way ‘round, Mistress,” Sam blushed. “Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo are... well, there aren’t many like them, are there?”

“No indeed.” Gilly said. Sam’s father came into the room. “Hamfast, would you mind staying while I check Sam for any cuts from all that flying glass?”

“I’m fine, Mistress Brownlock,” Sam protested as Gilly motioned him over to her.

“I’m sure you are. Just let me...” Quickly but thoroughly, she ran her hands over Sam’s head, chest, and arms. “Does anything hurt or sting, Sam?”

“No, ma’am,” Sam said. “I was awful lucky, I guess.” His eyes suddenly filled with tears.

“When they… when Mr. Frodo and Mr. Estel were just lyin’ there, all still and... I thought they were dead! I thought...” Hamfast hurried over and gathered his son in his arms as Sam started to sob.

Gilly went to the bed and checked the skin around the sutures on Frodo’s arm, then felt the boy’s face. He’s a bit warm, but that’s to be expected, she thought. This could have been so much worse.

“Sam,” Hamfast said, handing Sam a pocket handkerchief, “Mr. Bilbo is near exhausted with worry, and needs to eat. I’m goin' to tell Mr. Halbarad that supper is ready, and see that he and Mr. Bilbo eat somethin’. Your mum made sure there’s plenty.”

“I want you to go on home, lad, and have your own supper. And you’ll be needin’ a bath before you come back to stay with Mr. Frodo and the pup. Go on, now.”

Sam hugged his father hard which, Gilly noted with amusement, seemed to at once embarrass and please Hamfast.

“Is my boy all right, Mistress?” Hamfast asked anxiously, once Sam had gone. “Truly all right?”

“Hamfast,” Gilly said, “Sam escaped any physical injury, but he might be a little upset for a few days.”

“D’you think it’s all right for him to stay here tonight? He’s got his heart set on it.”

“There’s nothing I could prescribe better than that,” Gilly smiled. “Being able to see for himself that his friends are in no danger, and beginning to heal, is the best medicine I can think of.”

Scamp snuffled and twitched a bit in her sleep, and Hamfast’s face softened as he looked at her.

With SurgicalSteel’s gracious permission, I have borrowed the ‘backstory’ of Halbarad courting Serindë, the female healer of Bree, from her marvelous ongoing tale “The King’s Surgeon”.

But in the Third Age close friendship was still found in many places between Men and Dwarves; and it was according to the nature of the Dwarves that, travelling and labouring and trading about the lands ... they should use the languages of men among whom they dwelt. ‘Appendix F’, The Return of the King

Aragorn’s headache seemed quite bad, so Halbarad retrieved from Frodo’s room the medicine the healer had left. He mixed a small portion with water, as instructed, and encouraged Aragorn to drink it. Only when his chieftain was sleeping did Halbarad leave his side. He sat for a short time next to Frodo’s bed, glad that the boy was also sleeping peacefully. He looked around for Scamp, but didn’t see her.

Only when Halbarad allowed himself a moment to relax did he realize how hungry he was. He removed the cloak and outer tunic he was still wearing from that morning, then went to the bathing room, splashed his face with water, and washed his hands. He was startled to realize that it was evening already; lamps had been lit throughout the smial, and small but cheery hearthfires were blazing in several rooms.

In the kitchen, Halbarad found some delicious-smelling soup in a pot on the stove, and ladled some into a bowl. On the counter was bread, preserved meats, fruit, and small cakes. He piled some sliced bread on a plate, and went into the dining room where Bilbo sat eating his own supper.

The young ranger laughed out loud, and sat down. The hobbits’ way of speaking lightly during dire circumstances was always a delight.

“Bilbo, please let me repay you for Mistress Brownlock’s fee; what does she charge?”

Bilbo chuckled. “I distinctly recall having this same conversation with Aragorn, a few years back. I need no recompense, Halbarad, although I appreciate your offer.”

“Very well, and thank you. You are most kind.” Halbarad started in on his soup. “Frodo seems to be sleeping soundly; what did the healer say?”

“That we should expect a bit of fever, but nothing worse.” Bilbo shook his head. “Keeping Frodo abed will be most difficult; I’ve been through this before.”

“Aragorn told me about Frodo’s illness when they first met. I understand it was quite grave.”

“I put Aragorn’s weapons into one of your storage closets,” Halbarad continued. “I hear that the boy injured himself with a knife in his delirium.”

“That he did. Thank you, Halbarad,” Bilbo said. “Tell me how Aragorn is faring.”

“I wish I knew,” Halbarad sighed, spreading sweet butter on a thick slice of bread. “He is uninjured save for the bump on his head, but his memories seem affected. He does not remember that he is our chieftain.”

“An ordinary Ranger... named Estel. I gave him a bit of the medicine Mistress Brownlock left; I believe he will sleep for awhile.” Halbarad suddenly realized how quiet it was. “Has everyone gone?”

“Sam took Scamp out for a walk,” Bilbo replied. “He’ll be staying the night in Frodo’s room, helping to look after things. If we need the Gamgees for anything, Master Hamfast wants me to send Sam down to the Row.”

“Wake me if you need anything, Bilbo, not that lad,” Halbarad said. “I doubt I will sleep much tonight.”

“But you must try,” Bilbo said seriously. “Don’t you have to leave early in the morning?”

Halbarad was silent for a few moments. “Yes,” he said finally. “I can hardly bear the thought of leaving, but I must.” He sighed again. “I do not even know precisely where the Dwarves will expect to meet us, or what Aragorn planned to say to them.”

“As for where...” Bilbo got up and retrieved the map he and Aragorn had studied the previous evening. He showed Halbarad a spot at the southeastern edge of Lake Evendim, then rolled up the parchment. “Take this with you.”

“Thank you,” Halbarad said gratefully. “That will be most useful, Bilbo.” He smiled at the hobbit. “I wish you could accompany me. I understand you spent many months in the company of Dwarves, years ago.”

“They speak the Common Tongue when among those of other races, do not worry about that,” Bilbo assured him. He leaned forward. “Halbarad, Aragorn told me only a little about this meeting with the Dwarves, but enough for me to know that you do not need to fear. You need only represent your people, and agree to their exploring the hills near the lake for minerals. There is much about the Dwarves they keep secret and hidden, but they also seem anxious to stay on good terms with the Dúnedain. This meeting seems a formality, nothing more.”

“You are a mere child,” Bilbo laughed merrily. “We ancient folk cannot help but think so.”

“Ah, but I am. However, age matters not; the Dwarves will show you respect, if you do the same. Just watch out for their ale, and their songs!” Bilbo’s eyes twinkled. “They will have you off on an adventure to find gold or gems and we will never see you again!”

“There you are,” Bilbo smiled at the lad. “Please consider this your home for tonight, Samwise. If you get hungry, or need to use anything--”

“Thank you, sir,” Sam said respectfully. “Is it all right if I... read to Mr. Frodo? I don’t know if he’ll hear me or not, but--”

“Perhaps he will,” Bilbo said softly. “That’s a wonderful idea, lad. Halbarad and I will come and set up a spare bed for you next to Frodo’s.”

“That’s the second time you’ve asked that,” Bilbo said, remembering the previous evening. He eyed the man shrewdly. “Do you wish to have one, Halbarad? I can speak with Frodo about it. I would not have thought that a Ranger’s life would be the best for tending to a pet.”

Halbarad laughed nervously. “Her name is Serindë. She is a healer, in Bree.”

“My...” Halbarad smiled in a way Bilbo had not seen from him before. “We are courting. Aragorn does not know... no one knows, actually.”

“Halbarad, I have been keeping secrets for over 50 years,” Bilbo assured him. “Aragorn will not hear of this from me.” He poured himself a fresh cup of tea. “So... you believe this fine lady would enjoy looking after a Shire pup?”

“It would be company for her,” Halbarad said fervently. “She is often alone.” He smiled again. “She reminds me of Sam’s father, believe it or not. Rather gruff on the outside, but under the surface there is much...”

Bilbo put down his teacup and stared into it. “I love Frodo as my own son,” he said after a moment. “This is... difficult.”

“I can imagine,” Halbarad said, wondering if he would have children of his own to worry over someday. “Bilbo, I am truly sorry that I have to leave you alone here, but I will return as soon as possible.”

“I know,” Bilbo said. “However, I suspect that the Gamgees will not permit me to be alone very much! They are wonderful neighbors, and very good friends.”

“Some of it. Mrs. Gamgee made that pot of soup,” Bilbo said. “Delicious, isn’t it?”

“Just sit here and relax for awhile,” Halbarad said, getting to his feet. “I will see to it. And… thank you, Bilbo -- for the provisions, and the information about the Dwarves. I will need them both.”

“Halbarad,” Bilbo said suddenly, “should you encounter any resistance or stubbornness from these Dwarves, tell them you are friend to the burglar who accompanied Thorin Oakenshield on his journey. Tell them you respect the King under the Mountain, then and now, and wish only good relations with their people.”

“There is no debt between us,” Bilbo said softly. “Years ago, Aragorn said that he was in our debt for saving his life. If there ever was such a debt, it was paid today.”

Bilbo ... had many devoted admirers among the hobbits of poor and unimportant families. ‘A Long-Expected Party’, The Fellowship of the Ring

Halbarad woke at dawn, as he usually did, even though he had slept little. He and Bilbo had talked softly far into the night, sitting first at one bedside and then another, sharing stories. Bilbo had told him more about Dwarves and their ways, and they were each delighted to discover that the other had made one brief – yet memorable – visit to Rivendell. Both agreed that they looked forward to another visit to that enchanted valley whenever possible.

Sam, tucked into the spare bed that had been brought into Frodo’s room, stayed awake as long as he possibly could, listening raptly to the tales. When he finally fell asleep, his dreams were filled with Elves and Dwarves, and lands far from his home.

Only once that night had Aragorn awakened, and Halbarad helped his chieftain to the privy and then right back to bed. Somewhat disoriented, Aragorn had fallen back to sleep almost immediately. Frodo, however, awakened in discomfort several times during the night, and only small sips of the poppy dilution had helped him back to sleep. Bilbo was loathe to leave Frodo’s room to get some sleep himself, but each time the boy had awakened, Sam had, as well – which reassured Bilbo that if Frodo needed anything, Sam would know about it.

As the sun rose over the horizon, Halbarad dressed and went to Aragorn’s room. His chieftain was sleeping soundly, his breathing deep and regular. Halbarad knelt for a moment by the bed.

“I must depart, Captain,” he murmured, “although I have no wish to leave you. The healer will return this day, and you are well loved by these folk. You will not be alone.” He sighed. “I do not know yet precisely what I will say to the Dwarves, but I will represent our people so as to bring honor to you, and all my kin. You will be proud of me; I swear it.” He rose to his feet, bowed slightly, and left the room.

Passing several half-opened doors, Halbarad saw that Bilbo slept soundly, no doubt worn out with worry and exhaustion. Frodo, too, was asleep, as was Sam. Scamp, however, was wide awake in her basket, and looked up at him alertly. She got slowly to her feet, and Halbarad guessed what she needed. He stepped quietly into the bedroom, and gently scooped up the tiny dog.

Making his way to the front door of Bag End, Halbarad opened it and let Scamp down. She roamed about the familiar bushes and garden before settling down to do her business. When she came back to the doorstep, it was to inspect the numerous baskets sitting there. Curious, Halbarad had knelt to peer into several of them, discovering a variety of freshly-baked biscuits, muffins, and even jars of jam.

“Bilbo, the rumors are pure nonsense, and proper folk know it. We’re all grateful to the Ranger for what he did. My family is here if you need anything." – Tom C.

“Mr. Bilbo, would you kindly see to it that the Ranger knows we’re thankful for him saving our little girl? Let us know how he and your boy are doing.” – (scribed for) Lily Cotton

There were several such notes, and Halbarad felt a rush of warmth for the Shirefolk. They might wish to be left to themselves and stay, for the most part, ignorant of the world outside their sheltered lands, but they were not lacking in gratitude, or generosity. He took Scamp back to Frodo’s room, making sure the dog’s water and food dishes were replenished, then retrieved his pack and pulled out the gift he had brought for her. After laying it in Scamp’s basket, he gave her a fond pat and scratched behind her silky-soft ears.

“I hope to return in time to help see your pups into the world,” he said softly.

Halbarad went back to the front door and brought the gift baskets into the kitchen. Picking up the parcels of provisions and water bottles he and Bilbo had packed up the night before (as well as a few savory cranberry muffins from one of the baskets), he finally left Bag End and closed the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, he hurried down to the field where he and Aragorn had left their horses. It was time to leave.

Frodo woke slowly, feeling groggy. He wasn’t in as much pain as the day before, but didn’t realize it was because of the doses of medicine he had been given. It still hurt when he breathed deeply, however, and his left arm was sore and tender. Scamp lay contentedly in her basket, chewing busily away on what appeared to be a bone made of leather. She looked up at him and thumped her tail happily.

Frodo saw that an extra bed had been brought in, and he smiled to see Sam’s golden curls poking out from beneath the blankets. Ever since that year when he was so ill, Frodo had always felt safe around Sam -- even though the boy was so much younger than he. Sunlight streamed into the room, and he wondered what time it was. Early-riser Sam wouldn’t still be asleep unless he hadn’t been to bed until very late, and Frodo wondered if he, Bilbo, and Halbarad had been up all night, caring for him and...

Estel! What had happened to Estel yesterday? Was he badly hurt? Or was he all right, and had he and Halbarad left already? He had to find out.

He heard a faint rattle of dishes from elsewhere in the smial, and knew someone must be in the kitchen. He was very hungry, but finding out about Estel was more important right now than food.

Frodo tried to sit up, but gasped at the wave of dizziness that washed over him. The small sound he made instantly brought Sam up out of his bed and to his side.

“Sam, I need...” Frodo lay with his right arm arm wrapped around his sore chest. “I want to see Estel,” he insisted. “Is he still here? How badly was he hurt?”

“I’m sure Mr. Estel’s still here,” Sam said. “Somethin’ hit his head, and I heard Mr. Halbarad sayin’ that he can’t remember a few things. But he’s not hurt otherwise, so there’s nothin’ for you to--”

“What?” Frodo cried out. Of all fears he harbored from his childhood, that of being abandoned, overlooked... forgotten... had never quite left him. And Estel had promised. “I have to see him,” he insisted. “Sam, help me to--”

“No,” Sam insisted. “Beggin’ your pardon, Mr. Frodo, but I don’t want you movin’ from this bed, you hear me? Mr. Bilbo would have my hide if you started wanderin’ about.”

Frodo sighed, knowing that Sam was right. He was so dizzy and sore, he probably wouldn’t get far on his own, anyway.

“I don’t feel too badly, Sam. The headache’s better, but my chest is awfully painful. Did I break any ribs?”

“Mistress Brownlock said you just got banged up real bad,” Sam assured him. “And she had to sew up a cut where glass hit you.”

“I remember that,” Frodo said, touching his arm. He gazed at his friend anxiously. “Is Bilbo all right?”

“She’s right as rain,” Sam smiled at the dog. “No sign of the pups comin’ yet; we’re all watchin’ her real close. And I think Mr. Halbarad must have given her that leather-thing.”

“He must have. Last night I heard him and Mr. Bilbo talkin’ about Dwarves, and how he had to leave early this mornin’.”

“He’s meetin’ ’em somewhere, for somethin’. Now you stay put,” Sam said firmly. “I’ll get someone – maybe Halfred is outside, or in the kitchen – and he’ll carry you to Mr. Estel’s room so you can see him. Promise you won’t go anywhere.”

Sam dressed in a hurry and made his way to the kitchen. Halfred was, indeed, there, as was their mother. Halfred had just brought in some eggs, and Bell Gamgee was cracking them into a large bowl.

“I didn’t want to wake anyone,” Bell said, giving her youngest son a hug. “I’m sure you were all up late... but it’s past time for breakfast, and whoever’s awake needs to eat.”

“Thanks, ma, I’m starvin’,” Sam said fervently. He looked around in wonder at all the baskets. “Who sent all that?”

“Lots of folks, it seems,” Bell smiled. “Your dad will stop by the post office today to pick up any mail and messages; Mr. Bilbo’s relations must have heard about the accident, and may be askin’ for news.”

Sam nodded. He had no doubt that news of the accident had already spread far and wide.

“Halfred, can you come to Mr. Frodo’s room?” he asked. “He’s itchin’ to see Mr. Estel, but if he tries to walk, I’m afraid he’ll fall down flat.”

“I sure will,” Halfred said. “Mr. Frodo shouldn’t even be out of bed, but better to be carried than try to escape on his own. I think Mr. Bilbo is still asleep.” He accompanied Sam down the hallway. “And I saw Mr. Halbarad ride off this mornin’ – it was early. When will he be back?”

“Three or four days, I think,” Sam said. “He’s got somethin’ urgent he needs to do. Some Rangerin’, I guess.” He didn’t think it was his place to talk about what he had overheard the night before. They entered Frodo’s room, and Halfred greeted the young master. He could see the bruise on Frodo’s temple visible beneath the dark curls, which were tangled every which way.

“Hullo, Halfred,” Frodo said, his bright eyes full of hope. “Can you help me to Estel’s room, please?”

“That’s why I’m here,” Halfred grinned. “How are you feelin’, sir?”

“Not too bad,” Halfred said. “Our ma is makin’ some breakfast. D’you think you can eat?”

“You’ll be needin’ a bath,” Halfred said matter-of-factly, “but best to wait for Mistress Brownlock’s say-so. She said she’d be back this mornin’. Do you need to visit the privy, Mr. Frodo?” he asked, and Frodo nodded, a bit embarrassed. “Let’s see to that first, then I’ll take you to see Mr. Estel. He might still be sleepin’, though.”

Even though Frodo’s face felt a bit warm to Halfred, he wrapped the young master in a light blanket before effortlessly lifting the boy into his strong arms. He took Frodo down the hall to the privy, then carried him to Aragorn’s room.

“Estel?” Frodo asked hesitantly as Halfred knocked softly on the half-opened door. As Halfred carried Frodo into the room, they saw that Aragorn was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand rubbing his head as if plagued with a headache. Aragorn was barefoot, clad in simple shirt and trousers, and his long hair -- with the bandage wrapped around his brow -- was nearly as tousled as Frodo’s. Halfred privately thought that the injured Ranger, too, could do with a bath.

“Oh,” Frodo said, bursting into tears. “I was afraid you might not... remember me.”

Aragorn sighed. “I do seem to have forgotten something very important, Frodo, but all that is truly important at this moment is...” He smiled and held out his arms, and Halfred set Frodo, still wrapped in the blanket, in Aragorn's lap.

Aragorn smiled gently down at Frodo. “What did I tell you, little one, years ago when you were so ill?”

It may be several weeks before Chapter 10 is written and posted due to "real life" time constraints, but I'll update as soon as possible.

And laugh they did, and eat, and drink, often and heartily, being fond of simple jests at all times, and of six meals a day (when they could get them). ‘Prologue’, The Fellowship of the Ring

Sam stood with Halfred in the doorway, watching with relief as Aragorn gently brushed away Frodo’s tears, and Frodo started to smile. He could never bear to see his friend sad or upset.

“Yes, sir. When you told me to run, I ran,” Sam replied. “It was awful, Mr. Estel. Everythin’ exploded, and you and Mr. Frodo were... I thought...” He felt his brother gently squeeze his shoulder.

“You saved Sam’s life,” Halfred said, his eyes shining. “And Mr. Frodo’s, and everyone else’s. We won’t ever forget it, sir.”

“Come on, Sam,” Halfred said briskly. “You need to eat. Mr. Estel, can I leave Mr. Frodo with you? We’ll bring both of you breakfast here, if that’s all right. Neither of you should be up yet, if you don’t mind my sayin’.”

Just then, Scamp waddled into the room, her new toy in her mouth. She got as far as the big bed and looked up at Aragorn and Frodo, whimpering. Halfred and Sam moved forward at the same time, but it was Halfred who reached her first. With a smile, he lifted her onto the bed, where she settled down contentedly.

Sam saw the soft look on his brother’s face as he patted the dog, and wondered for the hundredth time how they could convince their father to allow them to have one of the pups.

“She’s going to be completely spoiled,” Frodo sighed, stroking Scamp’s fur. “She’ll want to be carried everywhere, now.”

“Just wait until the pups come,” Aragorn grinned. “They will be the ones being spoiled. Scamp will be a good and attentive mother, making sure they stay warm, fed, and out of mischief.”

Halfred excused himself, and escorted Sam out of the room and toward the kitchen. Halfred, an intelligent, methodical young hobbit, was already dividing up the day in his mind, figuring out who would do what, when, and how. His young brother needed his breakfast, as did Mr. Frodo and Mr. Estel. There was a pregnant pup to be walked and fed, their own chores to be done, and Mr. Estel’s horse to tend. Water for baths needed to be drawn, and clean linens seen to. There were no gentry in all of Hobbiton more respectful and kind to him and his family than Mr. Bilbo and young Mr. Frodo, and whatever would help them through the next few days would be done... and done well.

“Are you badly hurt?” he asked anxiously. “What is it you don’t remember?”

“Something about my past is clouded,” Aragorn said. “As I lay here this morning, I began to get flashes of a few... There were images that seemed for a moment to...” He sighed in frustration. “My memory is returning, little one. I just need more time. But what about you?” He gently touched Frodo’s forehead, examining the boy’s bruise.

“Your arm and chest?” Aragorn frowned in concern. He lay Frodo carefully beside him on the bed and unwrapped the blanket.

“My arm was cut by glass,” Frodo said, touching his left arm gingerly. “Gilly sewed it up.”

Aragorn loosened the top of Frodo’s nightshirt, careful of his own hurt wrist. With the small shoulder and upper arm bare, he looked gravely at the bandage. He instinctively wished to examine the wound, but as long as the healer was returning, it could wait.

“It was,” Frodo admitted. “I don’t remember much after that, though. She gave me something to drink...”

“Yes, I believe Halbarad needed to give me the same potion,” Aragorn smiled.

“I should have been with him,” Aragorn murmured to himself. “I am hoping Bilbo can tell me if Halbarad felt prepared for his journey. And now... What of your chest?” He lay a gentle hand on the front of Frodo’s nightshirt, but felt no bandages.

“It’s really sore, but Gilly said I’m just bruised. I must have landed on some rocks, but I don’t remember anything after you grabbed me and started running.”

“Yes, it does.” Aragorn covered Frodo once again with the blanket, settled the boy gently against his chest, and sat back against the headboard. “Each time I try very hard to remember...” He rubbed his head again. “The pain grows worse.”

Aragorn frowned, considering Frodo’s casual remark. If he was indeed Elendil’s heir, guardian of the shards of Narsil and Chieftain of the northern Men of Westernesse... why would he not remember? Why would he not want to remember?

“Who’s hungry?” came a voice from the doorway. A smiling Bilbo entered the room, his hair awry and still in his dressing gown. He came to the bed and gently touched Frodo’s forehead. It still felt slightly warm.

“Bilbo, are you all right?” Frodo asked anxiously. “I was worried; you never sleep this late.”

“Halbarad and I were up last night, talking,” Bilbo said. “Frodo, have you been crying?”

“Good. I worry about you, too, my lad. You gave us a bit of a scare.” His eyes were dark with concern. “Are you in less pain this morning?”

Bilbo nodded. “Gilly left medicine for you, which we gave you during the night. I think it may be time to give you more.”

“It makes me too dizzy and sleepy,” Frodo protested. He didn’t want to sleep all day and miss anything.

“Frodo,” Aragorn said, “the medicine will help you rest, which your body needs very much. And you also have a bit of fever because of your cut arm. Remember when Halbarad broke his ankle, and he had that fever?” Frodo nodded. “That’s making you drowsy, as well. Don’t be concerned if you’re very sleepy today, little one. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Bilbo smiled gratefully at Aragorn, and went to mix a very mild dilution of the sedative Gilly had left. When he brought the cup to Frodo, the boy dutifully drank it down. While Aragorn held Frodo gently, Bilbo hummed a soft tune he knew Frodo loved, and the boy closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting.

“And how are you feeling, Estel?” Bilbo asked after awhile, smiling warmly at the Ranger. “I’m sure your head still aches. Do you mind if this young rascal spends a bit of time with you this morning?”

“There is nothing I would like better,” Aragorn said, “except perhaps to sample a bit of whatever is on that tray.”

Frodo opened his eyes to see that Bell Gamgee had set a large tray containing covered dishes and utensils on the table. Delicious aromas permeated the room.

“Oh, Mrs. Gamgee is the most wonderful cook,” Frodo enthused. “Good morning, Mrs. Gamgee.”

“Good morning, Master Frodo,” Bell smiled, setting down the dishes. “It’s not every day that a young lad gets breakfast in bed, is it?” She set into place across Frodo and Aragorn’s laps a second tray, supported on wooden legs, upon which she and Bilbo proceeded to set plates and utensils. The plates were soon loaded with steaming portions of scrambled eggs, muffins, and sausage, and bowls of fresh fruit. Scamp scootched a bit closer to the tray, waiting patiently for the tidbits she knew would be forthcoming.

“That’s all right, my lad,” Bilbo said reassuringly, stroking Frodo’s curls. He shook his head as Frodo fed Scamp a bit of muffin.

“She’s eating for four now, Bilbo,” Frodo exclaimed. “We can’t have her starving to death.”

Bilbo chuckled. “Not very likely. That dog eats more often than most hobbits I know.”

“And she’ll eat even more once the pups arrive,” Bell said knowingly. “She’ll soon be feedin’ young ones of her own.”

“Estel, I take it your stomach is better today?” Bilbo grinned at Aragorn, who was finishing up the last of the eggs on his plate.

“Thank you, sir,” Bell said shyly. “Mr. Bilbo, those muffins are from Lily Cotton. You’ll find a lot of baskets in the kitchen, sent by folks. They’re awful grateful to Mr. Estel for what he did.”

Scamp looked up suddenly and began to thump her tail. There was a soft knock on the bedroom door, and Gilly Brownlock peeked in.

“I’ll just get back to seein’ to things in the kitchen,” Bell smiled, gathering up the trays.

“Thank you, Bell,” Bilbo called after her. “Good morning, Gilly. Thank you so much for coming back today.” He turned to Aragorn. “Estel, while she’s examining Frodo, why don’t you have your bath? Halfred heated water, and the bathing room is ready.”

“I would welcome a bath,” Aragorn said. He waited while Gilly untied the bandages about his brow and wrist, and gently examined both injuries.

“You are healing quickly,” Gilly said, a bit surprised. “Off with you, now, but take it slowly. And don’t forget to wash your hair; if you need assistance, I can ask Halfred to--”

“I believe I can manage.” Aragorn carefully lay Frodo back down on the bed, and got unsteadily to his feet, wavering a bit. Frodo watched him anxiously; apparently, he wasn’t the only one who was dizzy.

“Bilbo...” Aragorn turned to look at the old hobbit before he left the room, his face serious. “When I return, I would like to have a talk with you about Halbarad, and... other things.”

Gilly sat on the bed. “I’ll examine you here, if that’s all right, Frodo. Or do you wish to return to your own room?”

“I had to give him a bit more of the ‘medicine’ you left, Gilly,” Bilbo explained.

“Use it as needed, Bilbo, but not longer than a few more days. After that, give him willowbark tea, if he’s still in enough pain to need anything. This small fever, in addition to the head injury, will have him a bit groggy for a day or two in any event.” She lay a small blanket across Frodo’s legs and waist, then gently pushed up his nightshirt.

“I’m glad he ate something before he sleeps again,” Gilly murmured, examining Frodo’s chest and abdomen, which were covered with multi-colored bruises. “Nothing’s broken, Bilbo, and we would know by now if he had any internal injuries. Has he complained of any injuries we don’t know about?”

“Excellent. I’m going to leave you arnica for the bruising, and ice will help, also. Estel may need that icepack back on his wrist for a time, especially if he overuses it today. Now let’s see this arm...” Gilly briefly removed the bandage around Frodo’s upper arm and inspected the stitches, then felt the skin around the cut. “You can see that the skin is red, but it’s not hot or swollen, Bilbo. This will heal just fine.”

“After he wakes and has another meal, he should be bathed. Get Halfred or Hamfast to help you; that cut needs to be kept dry. Let him rest in bed today, and tomorrow as well.” Gilly grinned. “Knowing Frodo as I do, I suspect that soon your most difficult task will be keeping him in bed.”

“I passed Hamfast coming down the Lane when I arrived,” Gilly told Bilbo. “He’s on his way to the post office to see if there are any mail or messages for you.” She smiled. “The Gamgees take good care of you, Bilbo.”

“There now, all finished,” Gilly said, covering the now-sleeping boy with a light blanket. “Do you want him carried back to his own room?”

“Not just yet. I’m sure Estel won’t mind if Frodo stays here for a bit. He and I need to talk, and afterwards, I’ll take Frodo back to his room so Estel can have his room to himself.”

“After you and Estel have your talk, please have a decent breakfast, Bilbo,” Gilly urged. “Or it’s closer to elevenses now, I think. Halfred told me you only grabbed a piece of toast and some tea this morning. Roam the garden, putter around, read a little. Everything’s going to be fine – it will just take a bit of time for Frodo to heal completely. Try to relax.”

Some folks are asking, “Just when are those puppies coming??” I promise -- there will be puppies!

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapters 3, 7, 8, and 15, and “Force of Nature” chapters 11 and 15.

As Mr. Baggins was generous with his money, most people were willing to forgive him his oddities and his good fortune. ‘A Long-Expected Party’, The Fellowship of the Ring

Aragorn returned to the bedroom clean from his bath. He had put his tunic and trousers back on, the bandage from his head dangling from one hand. He smiled at the sight of Frodo lying sound asleep -- looking very small and vulnerable in the large bed -- and Scamp curled beside the boy. Bilbo had dressed and sat quietly in a chair, sipping some tea. Aragorn saw what the old hobbit was looking at: the sheath that held the shards of Narsil.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Bilbo said, holding out his hand. Aragorn knelt by the chair. Bilbo tossed the soiled bandage into a nearby clothes hamper, and re-wrapped Aragorn’s sprained wrist in a fresh cloth Gilly had left. “How is the pain?”

“The headache is down to a dull roar, fortunately,” Aragorn said. “My wrist is throbbing rather a lot, however. Perhaps washing my hair was a task best left for another time.”

“Here, let me see the bump.” Aragorn turned his head, and Bilbo parted the Ranger’s damp hair and looked carefully at the injury. “Gilly was right, it does look much better. Do you wish it bandaged?”

“Gilly re-filled the ice pack for your wrist,” Bilbo said, motioning to a cloth-wrapped bundle sitting in a bowl on the table. “There is willowbark tea in that pot with lots of honey, and Bell made sandwiches.”

“Bilbo,” Aragorn said urgently, “I need to ask you about Halbarad; he knew so little about the meeting with the Dwarves, and its location, and I was barely conscious enough to speak with him. Did you see him this morning before he left?”

“No,” Bilbo shook his head. “However, we talked for many hours last night. I told him much about Dwarves and their ways, and reminded him that he was chosen to be by your side for a reason. He may not be Chieftain, as you believed, but he is a good and noble man.”

“He is, indeed,” Aragorn agreed. “But I am concerned that he will not know exactly where--”

“He will,” Bilbo assured him. “I showed him on one of my maps the spot where you told me the meeting would take place. He took the map with him.” He smiled at the Ranger. “Do not worry, Estel; he will make you proud.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Aragorn said fervently. “Thank you for all you have done. And now...” He turned to look at the sleeping tween. “What did the healer say about Frodo?”

“Nothing broken, and no internal injuries,” Bilbo said, tears suddenly springing to his eyes. “I had feared...”

“Bilbo...” Aragorn took the old hobbit’s hands in his own. “He will be fine. I am sorry that you have been through so much during these past days.”

Bilbo closed his eyes for a moment. “I haven’t wanted Frodo to see my fear. He’s had so much upheaval in his life. Safety, reassurance, stability... these are what he needs so very much.”

“You give Frodo everything he needs, and more,” Aragorn assured Bilbo. “Never think otherwise.” He sat on the bed next to Frodo. To Scamp’s delight, he started to pet the tiny dog, and then gently felt the swollen tummy. “A few more days,” he said absently.

“You have a healer’s instinct,” Bilbo said, “and a gentle manner with those who look to you for reassurance. Did I ever tell you when it was I first knew I could trust Frodo into your care?”

“When Gandalf first brought you here, four years ago, Frodo took to you immediately – as you know,” Bilbo said. “You were so kind to him, so patient and attentive -- the very things he had lacked for so long. As you have heard, after the death of his parents he was cared for and educated, but somewhat overlooked. His curiosity was endless, but there are so many people in Brandy Hall, it wasn’t easy for him to get the attention he needed.”

“As did you,” Bilbo said. “In case you don’t know it, I doubt Frodo would tolerate being called ‘little one’ by anyone else -- but he lights up when you use that nickname. He knows you consider him neither little nor insignificant.”

“He even heard you use that name when you called him back from his terrible fever, years ago.” Bilbo looked at the ranger shrewdly. “Do you remember that?”

“You are a natural healer, Estel, with unique abilities. Why do you suppose that is true?”

“And why do you think you grew up there?” Bilbo leaned forward gazing steadily at the Ranger. “You can trace your ancestry back to Elros, brother of Lord Elrond, and to their father, Eärendil, and back even to Melian, the Maia who wedded Thingol. I learned this when last we met, and I was honored to have your trust. You are Chieftain of the Men of the West, with all the honor and responsibility that brings. Your destiny is a great one, Aragorn.”

Aragorn frowned at the use of his given name. Halbarad had told him that Bilbo knew his true identity, but not Frodo. This hobbit, he thought ruefully, currently knows more about me than I do.

“Bilbo...” he sighed, “I sense that what you say is true, but my memories are incomplete. I remember what I am – a Ranger of the North – but not who I am... entirely. Certain things are starting to come back, but... I do not understand why I would forget this one thing – even temporarily – and nothing else.”

“Perhaps you just need a few days off; a bit of a vacation, as it were. I often feel that way, myself.” Bilbo smiled and got to his feet. “Or... perhaps Halbarad needed the opportunity to grow up more quickly than he would have, otherwise.”

Bilbo went to the bed and lifted Scamp down to the floor. The pup sniffed around, then wandered off.

“I am,” Aragorn smiled. He carried Frodo to his room, and settled the boy into bed.

“Thank you,” Bilbo said. “I’m going to take Scamp outside for a bit, then eat something and perhaps take a nap.”

“I may do the same. The dizziness is less, but I’m still not too steady on my feet.”

“Don’t overdo things, and don’t worry too much about Halbarad or anything else. Now then,” Bilbo said briskly, “drink up that willowbark tea Gilly left, and let us know if you need something stronger for your headache. Put that ice pack back on your wrist, and get some rest. Come to the kitchen when you are hungry. Remember that Bag End is your home whenever you are with us.”

Bilbo went looking for Scamp, and found her in the kitchen – with the Gaffer. Hamfast was sitting on the floor, feeding the dog some pieces of roasted beef and talking quietly to her.

“And you don’t have to fret none. Your master’s on the mend, and we’ll see to it that no one has any worries. Why, you’re nearly ready to meet your little ones, aren’t you? You need to keep up your strength now, and...” The Gaffer looked up and saw Bilbo watching him, and scrambled to his feet, red-faced with embarrassment.

“Beg pardon, Mr. Bilbo, but the pup seemed a mite hungry,” Hamfast said quickly. “I’ll just take ’er out to the garden for a walk, and leave you to your luncheon. And then I hope you can rest a bit more, you could use it, if you don’t mind my sayin’. I left some letters from the post office for you in the dining room, sir.” With that, he hurried out of the kitchen, Scamp at his heels.

“Hamfast Gamgee, you softie,” Bilbo chuckled to himself. “Sam’s going to end up with one -- or more -- of the pups, or I’m not a Baggins.”

“Nearly suppertime.” Bilbo rose out of the chair in which he had been reading, and sat on the bed. “You’ve slept all day, my lad. How do you feel?”

“Better,” Frodo said, moving around a little. “It’s easier to breathe, and I’m not so dizzy. I’m still awfully sleepy, though, and my arm is sore.”

“It will probably feel sore for some days,” Bilbo told him, feeling the boy’s forehead. “Gilly will have to let us know when the sutures can be removed. Are you hungry?”

“It’s no higher,” Bilbo said with a relieved smile. “Perhaps by morning, it will be gone.”

“It will be,” Frodo said confidently. He thought about sitting up, but didn’t want to make his chest start hurting again. “What’s happening? Is Scamp all right?”

Bilbo chuckled. “She’s fine. As a matter of fact, you’ll be surprised to learn who seems to be worried about her the most. Feeding her, walking her...”

Frodo grinned. “I’m not surprised in the least. He acts so gruff, but he’s always delighted to see Scamp out in the garden – unless she’s digging up something, that is. And his whole family takes such good care of her when you and I are out rambling about.” He sighed. “I wish he would agree to take one of the pups, but Sam is so certain he’ll refuse.”

“There might be a way,” Bilbo said mysteriously. “And speaking of the pups, guess who else might like one?”

“Not Estel, I wouldn’t think,” Frodo frowned. “He’s always traveling around.”

“But... he’s a Ranger, too. I can see he loves Scamp a lot, and she adores him. But what would he do with a pup?”

“Our young Ranger is in love,” Bilbo smiled broadly. “If you agree, he would like to take one of the pups to his lady in Bree, as a gift. She’s a healer, and he says she is very kind.”

“That would be wonderful,” Frodo enthused. “And if they wed, she’ll be an honorary-Brandybuck-by-marriage, won’t she?”

“She will, indeed. But Frodo-lad, you must not breathe a word to Estel of this courtship. Halbarad seems very shy about it, and does not yet wish too many people to know.”

“Estel has so many secrets, I can certainly keep one from him,” Frodo laughed.

“You already are doing so, my boy,” Bilbo said quietly, and Frodo nodded. The magic ring was their secret, and only once – in a delirium – had Frodo come close to revealing it to anyone.

“Bilbo, what happened to the change purse?” Frodo asked suddenly. “Did I lose it in the explosion? I was being so careful not to--”

“You are always most careful, Frodo, and you did not lose it. As a matter of fact, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” Bilbo grew serious. “What would you say to our donating those coins – and many more – to help rebuild the ale shop? Mr. Oldbottom lost the entire building, and all his stock.”

“Of course!” Frodo said, a smile blooming across his face. “Bilbo, you never asked my advice about money before.”

“It’s time I started. You are not yet of age, Frodo, but you are my heir, and have shown true maturity regarding matters of finance.”

“And now, how about some supper, and then a bath? You’ve still got dust in your hair from yesterday.”

“I feel I could eat two suppers in a row,” Frodo said fervently. “And I was afraid someone would bathe me while I was sleeping. But... I don’t think I can sit up by myself quite yet. I might need some help, if... if you wouldn't mind.”

“Of course I wouldn't,” Bilbo said gently. He knew it was difficult for Frodo to lose any amount of independence, even for a day or two.

“Is there any roast chicken left?” Frodo asked, getting back to more important subjects.

“There is so much food in the kitchen, I can scarcely walk in there,” Bilbo laughed out loud. If his boy was clamoring for supper, he was definitely on the mend.

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapter 9, “Force of Nature” chapter 14, and “Reflections of the Past” chapters 4 and 5.

Aragorn spent a great deal of time over the next two days thinking about what Bilbo had so casually said, especially as his memories began to return -- first in a trickle and then a torrent. He remembered being given the shards of Narsil to guard, and from which to draw inspiration and strength. Lord Elrond had given him back his true name at age 20, and he had worked hard to gain the respect of the Dúnedain. He had grown from a Chieftain by tradition, to a Chieftain in truth. Over long years of travel over much of Middle-earth, nearly always in disguise or under assumed names, he had learned and watched, becoming familiar with many lands and peoples. He had learned to serve, and watch, and wait. He was a warrior, a healer, and a leader of Men.

What he had not yet regained was... the feeling of who he was. He did not feel like a leader, or one whose destiny was different than that of any other man. He could not feel the blood of his legendary ancestors in his veins, or spirit, or connect to them in his heart. He did not...

“Here you are!” Frodo’s bright voice penetrated his thoughts, and he looked up to see the young hobbit coming toward him.

“What are you doing out of bed, little one?” Aragorn asked, putting down his pipe.

“Everyone’s being so fussy,” Frodo said in frustration. "I’m tired of resting and sleeping." He was dressed in a loose shirt and breeches, and holding a blanket in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the other. Suddenly his eyes sparkled with glee. “I escaped when no one was looking.”

Aragorn lifted the boy gently up onto the bench beside him. This bench near Bag End fit Big Folk comfortably, which was exactly why Bilbo had it built. This retreat under a sheltering tree, and several beds larger than the usual hobbit-sized, made Bag End even more hospitable for its frequent visitors – Man or Wizard.

“Sam will be frantic with worry when he discovers you missing,” Aragorn smiled.

“He’s in the vegetable garden, showing Scamp what plants are proper to dig up, and which aren’t,” Frodo grinned. “I snuck right past them. Well, I think Scamp saw me, but she won’t tell.”

“That bruise has turned so many colors, I can’t name them all! I still feel like I was run over by a pony cart, but not such a large one anymore.” Frodo scratched absently at his left arm.

“Try not to do that,” Aragorn advised. “Skin itches a bit while it heals, but you do not want to disturb the sutures.”

“Gilly says it’ll be a week before she can remove them,” Frodo sighed. “I don’t like the thought of being stitched up like a garment.”

“Nor do I,” Aragorn chuckled. “I’ve had several gashes over the years that required suturing, and it certainly is never that pleasant.”

“This is pleasant,” Frodo sighed blissfully, breathing in the crisp autumn air. “I love it out here. The trees make such a lovely swishing sound.” He looked up at the Ranger. “You’re starting to remember everything, aren’t you?”

“Over the past few days you’ve been so relaxed, more so than usual. Helping in the garden, trying to bake, reading, riding Arthad... but today you seem a bit more serious.”

Aragorn smiled ruefully. “Bilbo was correct, then. Perhaps I just needed a brief vacation from certain knowledge and responsibilities.”

“Don’t worry; you can come back to visit anytime you need another vacation,” Frodo said. “When do you suppose Halbarad will return?”

“It is conceivable that he could arrive as soon as this evening, but more likely tomorrow,” Aragorn said, thinking about the distance between Hobbiton and Lake Evendim. “I hope everything has gone well for him.”

“It has,” Frodo said confidently. “Bilbo told him everything he needed to know, after all.”

“Have you seen all the notes and gifts? Everyone’s very grateful for what you did.”

“I am honored to have the trust of some of your folk,” Aragorn said softly. “It is a rare experience.”

Aragorn touched his right wrist and nodded. “The swelling is down, and it feels nearly well again.”

“You heal quickly, Estel,” Frodo observed. “Merry sprained his wrist once, and it was sore for weeks. How did poor Beren endure losing a whole hand? It’s so frightening to think about what happened to him. I like to go down there and look at the carvings, sometimes. Lúthien is so beautiful, and Beren so handsome. Your folk were taller then, weren’t they? Sometimes I dream about people who...”

Aragorn stared straight ahead of him, startled. He had forgotten about the exquisite and ancient carvings, hidden behind the stone in Bag End’s cold cellar. Beren. Something strange stirred within him when he thought of his illustrious forebear, who had lived and died so long ago, he could barely conceive of it. Beren. Lúthien.

“Frodo,” he said slowly, “I cannot explain why, but I need to see those carvings again. Right now. You and Bilbo never closed up the opening?”

“No,” Frodo shook his head. “We slid a heavy box in front of it so Scamp can’t get lost in there again, but didn’t wall it up. The lanterns are still down there.” He looked at the Ranger curiously. “Are you all right?”

“Please don’t,” Frodo begged. “It’s so nice to be out in the fresh air. Merry and his family and Pip and other folks sent letters, and I’d like to just sit out here and read them.”

“Very well.” Aragorn stood up, then wrapped Frodo in the blanket he had brought with him. “Do not stay out long enough to get chilled.”

“I won’t,” Frodo said. He unfolded a piece of paper from the top of the stack. “This is from Pip. And those must be ducks. I wonder why they’re wearing hats?” He studied the brightly-colored drawing more closely while Aragorn made his way back to Bag End.

“Hullo, Mr. Estel!” Sam greeted the Ranger. “Did Mr. Frodo find you all right?”

“So you saw him, did you?” Aragorn chuckled. “He thought he made a clean escape.”

Sam grinned and shook his head, then went back to his weeding. He checked on Frodo a bit later, and smiled to see that his friend had fallen sound asleep on the bench, wrapped in the blanket, with the sheaf of letters under his head for a pillow.

“Mr. Frodo!” Sam said urgently, “I think Scamp’s ready, sir! She started whimperin’ and actin’ strange, and--”

“Where is she?” Frodo gasped. He sat up a bit stiffly, and Sam helped him down from the high bench.

“I carried her to your room, and put her in the basket. I built up the fire in the hearth, then came right out to get you.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Frodo said gratefully. He and Sam hurried into Bag End, walking as fast as Frodo’s bruised ribs would allow. They reached his bedroom, and Frodo dropped painfully to his knees beside the fleece-lined basket. Scamp was lying on her side, panting heavily.

“He went to Bywater this morning to talk to Mr. Oldbottom,” Frodo said, stroking Scamp gently. “He should have been back by now. And Estel is... Sam, Estel said he was going down in the cellar where the carvings are – but that must have been hours ago. Would you see if he’s still down there? And then maybe put some water on to boil, I think we’re supposed to do that for some reason. Your family might want to know where you are, too. And... and...”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Frodo,” Sam urged. “I’ll go tell my family, then find Mr. Estel.”

“Just stay calm, sir; she’ll be all right. Mama animals have babies all the time. But as I told you before, it’s a mite messy, and--”

Frodo nodded, his heart hammering in his chest. He reached for a stack of thick towels, and slid one carefully beneath Scamp.

“Shhh, it’s all right,” Frodo murmured to Scamp, trying to calm himself down. “You’re having half-Baggins, half-Took pups! They’ll be beautiful, and everything will be fine, and... Sam, what should I do while you’re gone?” he asked in a sudden panic.

“Just don’t let her have those pups without me,” Sam begged. “Not that she will. I mean, it’ll probably take hours, but I don’t want to miss...” He rushed out of the room.

As Bilbo walked up the lane, his stomach informed him that it must be nearly suppertime. He heard a call from behind him, and turned.

“Halbarad!” Bilbo called out. He waved as the mounted Ranger approached, looking tired but triumphant. “Welcome back!”

“Thank you, Bilbo,” Halbarad smiled. “I have much to tell all of you. How do Frodo and Aragorn fare?”

“They are mending well. I believe that...” Bilbo frowned as, up ahead, he saw Sam emerge from Bagshot Row and run up the lane toward Bag End – followed, more slowly, by his father.

“Bilbo, give me your hand,” Halbarad said quickly. He reached down and pulled the hobbit up in front of him, then urged his horse into a gallop.

Hamfast looked up, startled, as the huge horse drew abreast of him. Halbarad dismounted and lifted Bilbo down.

“The pups are near to comin’, Mr. Bilbo!” Hamfast replied joyously. “Sam just came and told us.”

Bilbo sagged against his friend in relief. “I thought something dreadful had happened to Frodo, or Estel.”

Halbarad grinned. “Bilbo, I will join you as soon as I can. Gwindor needs to be tended after our long ride.” He began to lead his horse back down to the field where Arthad was tethered.

As the two hobbits continued on toward Bag End, Bilbo was delighted to realize how excited the Gaffer was.

"Hamfast,” he said casually, “Frodo and I have been trying to figure out what to do with the pups. Tom Cotton and Estel are almost certain there will be three, you know.”

“Indeed. Halbarad has asked to have one, as a gift for someone. But that leaves two, assuming all goes well. And Frodo and I have been wondering...”

“Yes, sir?” Hamfast turned to his employer, a curiously hopeful expression on his face.

“Your family has been so very good to us,” Bilbo said fervently. “Truly, Hamfast, I don’t know what I would have done without all of you, particularly during this week.”

“It weren’t nothin’, sir,” Hamfast said humbly. “We think the world of you and Mr. Frodo.”

“Hamfast, would you consider...” Bilbo stopped walking for a moment. He needed to word this perfectly. “Might we begin to repay your family with... one of the pups? Frodo would be so relieved to know that another has found a loving home, and one so close to Bag End.”

The Gaffer’s face lit up. “You’d trust us with one of the pups? What I mean is...” He tried to look serious. “That’s very generous of you, sir. I’d have to think on it, of course.”

“Mr. Bilbo,” Hamfast said a moment later, “I’m sure I could talk my family into it. As a matter of fact, it would near break Sam’s heart to be parted from those pups. I mean, from one of those pups.”

“You are welcome to two, if it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition.” Bilbo grinned and clasped his gardener by the arm. “Knowing the pups have a loving and close home would be quite a relief to us. It would certainly help relieve our debt to your family, but I know how you feel about dogs. Think about it.”

“I’ll do that, sir.” They continued up the lane, Hamfast’s head spinning with amazement. He knew that pups needed to stay with their mother for many weeks, and had considered asking to purchase one as a Yule gift for Sam -- if it wasn’t more than they could afford. But for the Master to give them one of the pups... or even two! Under ordinary circumstances, it just wouldn’t be proper... but Mr. Bilbo himself had suggested it, and it didn’t get much more proper than that.

With SurgicalSteel’s gracious permission, I have borrowed the ‘backstory’ of Halbarad courting Serindë, the female healer of Bree, from her marvelous ongoing tale “The King’s Surgeon”.

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapter 20, and “Reflections of the Past” chapters 3, 4 and 5.

He was Aragorn son of Arathorn, the ninth and thirtieth heir in the right line from Isildur. ‘Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age’, The Silmarillion

“Supper should be near ready,” Hamfast said, as he and Bilbo entered Bag End. “Bell set a nice pan of beef and taters on the stove earlier, and I’ll just give it a peek. Sam said Mr. Frodo slept through elevenses and luncheon, and you and Mr. Halbarad just got back, and... well, you all need to eat, sir.”

“It might, but you can never tell. Sometimes pups come quick. You go on, now.”

Bilbo hurried down the corridor to Frodo’s bedroom, and found the boy sitting awkwardly on the floor next to Scamp’s basket. Frodo looked up in relief as his uncle entered the room.

“Frodo, you look more uncomfortable than Scamp,” Bilbo said, pulling some pillows and a quilt off the bed. He helped Frodo to sit back against the wall next to the hearth, supported by the pillows. “Here, let me tuck this around you. Better?”

“Thank you,” Frodo sighed. “It’s still hard to sit up by myself without aching like an old gammer.”

“You need to relax, my lad. She’s perfectly healthy, and everything’s happening right on time. We can take shifts watching over her. I don’t think there should be more than a few people in the room at a time, as she might get a little nervous.”

Bilbo nodded. “Scamp’s about to become a mother. She might act strangely, or even snap. We have to take our cues from her.”

“He was going to tell his family what was happening, then try to find Estel.” Frodo realized what Bilbo had said. “Halbarad’s back already?”

“I’m hungry, too,” Frodo said, realizing how empty his stomach felt. “I missed luncheon.”

“It’s time you ate something, young hobbit,” Bilbo said firmly. “And speaking of eating, we’ll see if Scamp will take any food. And she'll continue to need water handy, or some milk to drink.” He lowered his voice. “I think Master Hamfast is quite eager to take one – or even two – of the pups. He just can’t bring himself to admit it yet. So don’t tell Sam anything, all right?”

Without even taking the time to shed his cloak, Aragorn strode directly to the cellar containing the blocks of ice that kept Bag End’s perishable foods cold. He lit one of the lanterns along the wall, then shoved aside the crate covering the hole that he, Sam, and Bilbo had dug. Pushing the lantern through ahead of him, he crawled into the ancient cave behind the cellar wall. As before, the sparkling gems in the necklace worn by the exquisite carving of Lúthien threw glittering lights of every color upon the walls. Smiling at the image, he continued past it to the chamber holding the carving of Beren. Aragorn gazed into the noble face, his fingers straying to the ring Beren bore on his left (and only) hand. The ring of Barahir, Beren’s father. The ring that...

Suddenly, as if his mind was ablaze with light, Aragorn remembered. For a moment, he stood once again before his heart’s desire, placing the ring of Barahir – and his heart – in her hands. The daughter of Elrond had pledged her heart, future, and life itself to him in return.

“Arwen,” he whispered, his heart flooding with a love that threatened to overwhelm him. “My beloved.” This reawakening of the last of his shrouded memories, he realized, must be why he had felt compelled to come down here. Arwen was waiting for him. All of Middle-earth was waiting for him, although few knew it. But for now, he was a Ranger of the North, and nothing more. The future was yet unwritten.

Aragorn bowed deeply before the image of Beren, then returned to that of Lúthien. Arwen’s great-great-grandmother, he mused. The resemblance is truly remarkable. As he stepped closer to touch the large, intricately-faceted crystal that represented the Silmaril -- worn now by Eärendil himself -- light from the lantern reflected off the silver star pinned to his cloak and into the heart of the crystal. Aragorn staggered back, blinded by the radiance, and felt himself falling a long distance. When he opened his eyes, he was startled to find himself standing on a beach of pure white. The cold air of the cellar had been replaced by a warm, fragrant breeze. Bemused, he picked up a handful of sand, finding it soft and fine. It glittered as the dust of diamonds.

A tall figure was striding down the beach toward him. The light blazing from the Man’s brow was so intense, it seemed as a star brought to earth. As the figure drew near, Aragorn fell to his knees.

Aragorn got to his feet, and stared in awe at the tall, noble presence before him. “Eärendil,” he whispered, for it could be no other. “How is this possible?”

“I have seen many things become possible,” Eärendil said with a smile. “I am charged to show you what I may, in the short time we have together. Behold!”

The image of the legendary mariner faded, to be replaced by a cascade of faces. Names Aragorn had read only in books, or heard in tales, blazed in his mind as each face – alike and yet unalike – came and went before his dazzled eyes. Elros Tar-Minyatur, son of Eärendil and brother to Lord Elrond... Amandil... Beleg... Isildur... Arvedui... Aragorn I, for whom he had been named... So many... Aragorn tried to count, even as he watched in awe. Thirty... forty...

“More than 60 generations of Men it has been, since I last walked upon Middle-earth,” Eärendil’s voice penetrated the vision. “In their blood is comingled that of Men, Elves, and she who wed Elu Thingol, Melian of the Ainur. No other mortal now living can claim this inheritance. As Melian and all who came after her guarded and defended their people and lands, so will you continue to do. The northern kingdoms of old are now but stones scattered upon the grass, or drowned beneath the waves -- while kingdoms yet to be, remain unshaped. Look with pride upon those who helped shape you, as we look with pride upon you -- our hope.”

And then, at the last, Aragorn saw the face that Gandalf had helped him to remember several years back. Father. Aragorn reached out, and suddenly something pierced him as a flame. He felt love, and strength, and he knew that once again the blood of Westernesse, that he had forgotten, sang in his blood.

“Return now, son of Arathorn,” came Eärendil’s voice. “Try to remember what you have seen.” But all Aragorn heard, as he fell into a spiralling mist, was “remember... remember... remember...”

Aragorn opened his eyes, his head pounding. He realized that he was still in the cave, on the cold ground beneath the carving of Lúthien. The lantern flickered, its wick nearly spent.

“We were worried,” Sam said. “Mr. Frodo said you’ve been down here for hours.”

“Hours? Just give me a moment...” Aragorn tried desperately to hold onto what he had just experienced, the images beginning to blur. “What time is it?”

“Mr. Estel, Scamp’s getting’ ready to have her babies!” Sam said excitedly. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

“It certainly is.” Aragorn smiled at Sam, who was nearly hopping up and down with anticipation. “Shall we go and greet them?” He got to his feet, then gently touched the gem in the sparkling necklace. Common crystal, nothing more. Had it all been a dream?

When Aragorn and Sam stepped quietly into Frodo’s bedroom, lit gently only by the warm hearth and a few soft lamps, they were both surprised to find Halbarad there. The young Ranger was sitting in the large chair next to the bed, leafing through one of Frodo’s books.

“Halbarad!” Aragorn exclaimed, coming to greet his friend. “You must have ridden like the wind.”

“Very well indeed,” Halbarad said. “Gwindor and I returned but a short while ago.” He peered closely at Aragorn. “You remember, don’t you? I can see it in your face.” Halbarad blinked in confusion as a star seemed to flicker for a moment on Aragorn’s brow.

“I remember everything,” Aragorn said softly. “And Halbarad, before we leave Bag End, remind me to show you one of its rare treasures.”

“There are many treasures here," Halbarad murmured. They both looked down at Sam, kneeling next to Scamp’s basket and saying comforting words to the dog.

”Go then. I suspect there is still plenty of time before the pups begin arriving.” Aragorn clasped Halbarad by the wrist. “I very much look forward to hearing your report.”

For several hours, the hobbits and Men took turns eating and sitting with Scamp. Everyone wanted to hear about Halbarad’s experience with the Dwarves, but he asked to wait until the next day when he would be more rested and ready to speak of it.

Aragorn discovered that Scamp seemed calmer when it was his hand that stroked her, so he petted and comforted the dog. At intervals he sipped at willowbark tea with honey, as his headaches were proving slow to diminish.

It was several hours after sunset when Scamp’s labor intensified. Now Frodo’s bedroom was crowded with people, all sitting very quietly so as not to overwhelm her with too much movement or sound. Frodo sat once again propped against the wall, with Sam on one side of him and Bilbo on the other. Halbarad occupied the chair, and Hamfast, who had been unable to tear himself away, sat on the bed.

“It is all right,” Aragorn assured the boy. “Scamp knows what to do.” He stepped out of the room to wash his hands, and quickly returned.

There was a final push and strain, and at last the first puppy arrived. Scamp licked the covering membrane away from the tiny pup, massaging the small body with her tongue. There was a faint mewling cry.

“A healthy male,” Aragorn announced, reaching for the string and scissors that had been thoroughly boiled. “I’ll just help our new mother with this task.” He deftly tied the cord in two places, and cut it. Scamp gathered her new son to her tummy where it was warm and the pup could find milk.

“He looks just like Scamp,” Frodo said. “The same coloring, exactly! And I was so certain that the little white dog from Whitwell was the father.”

“There are still two to go,” Bilbo reminded him. “We will see what their coloring shows.”

“It may be awhile,” his father told him. “All new life comes when it’s time, Samwise; that’s how nature works.”

It seemed hours to the watching group, but was only about 40 minutes before the second pup was born.

“There you go, Frodo lad,” Bilbo said. “White ear, white paws, and a tiny bit of white at the tip of the tail. A lass, by the look of her.”

“Half Baggins, and definitely half Took,” Frodo said with delight. The new pup made little grunting sounds as she was gathered to mother’s belly.

After that, it didn’t take long for the third and final pup to arrive, a female nearly identical to the other.

“Scamp, you were wonderful,” Frodo enthused, giving Scamp a drink. “I’m so proud of you.” Scamp’s tail thumped a little, then she returned to licking and cleaning her little ones, and encouraging them to nurse.

Frodo felt tears prickling his eyes at the sight of Scamp and her pups; it was just too lovely to bear. He relaxed against Bilbo, relieved beyond words that everything had gone well.

“They need to stay warm, Frodo,” he cautioned. “It may feel too warm in here for you.”

“I can’t quite believe it,” Frodo marveled. “A little of it was hard to watch,” he admitted, “but mostly...”

“So, Halbarad,” Bilbo said, stretching his stiff limbs. “Have you made your choice?”

“But Serindë is so...” Aragorn frowned, thinking about the sharp-tongued healer. “Do you think she’d like a dog around the house?”

“I do.” Halbarad said calmly. The pup would be a gift, but not just to say ‘thank you’. He had been hoping to find an unusual ‘courting’ present for Serindë, and somehow he just knew she’d love this little pup. He fervently hoped she wouldn’t name him after any complex medical procedure.

“You’ll have to come back when he’s ready to be on his own,” Frodo said.

“I will return as soon as my Captain allows it,” Halbarad said with a smile. “And that will be the perfect time to return all the books I plan to borrow from you, Bilbo.”

Hamfast stepped back into the room and surveyed the peaceful scene, then caught Bilbo’s eye. The old hobbit nodded, and Frodo looked from one to the other, hoping those looks meant what he thought.

“Sam,” Hamfast said quietly, “What do you think of those two wee lasses?”

“I think they’re perfect,” Sam sighed, drinking in the sight of the tiny pups snuggled at Scamp’s belly.

“Of course they...” Sam stared at his father, his heart beginning to race. “What?”

“Pets are a fearsome responsibility,” Hamfast warned his son. “They’ll take trainin’ so as not to be diggin’ up the gardens or runnin’ off, or botherin’ the neighbors. Your pups will need to be fed and looked after, and--”

“Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo have been generous enough to offer us two of the pups, if you think you can handle the responsibility.”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except for a small squeak. Suddenly he leaped up and threw himself into his father’s arms, and Hamfast hugged his young son tightly.

“Come on home now,” Hamfast smiled. “Time you were in bed, and these folks, too.” He looked steadily at Bilbo. “Thank you, sir.”

“I will walk out with you and Sam, Master Hamfast,” Aragorn said, getting to his feet. “I would like to stand outside for a short time. Eärendil’s star will be visible, and I wish to view it.”

“See you tomorrow, Sam,” Frodo yawned, smiling happily at his friend. “Let us know what names you come up with for your new pups, won’t you?”

Unable to speak, Sam looked back at Frodo and Bilbo, then the sleeping pups. His eyes shone with utter joy.

Author Notes: I have no idea if there really is an “oath” to be sworn when someone becomes a Ranger of the North (or South).

Back in March, I asked my Livejournal friends to help me brainstorm names for Scamp’s pups. There were so many wonderful ideas! The names used in this chapter are from... Auntiemeesh, Lbilover, Mews1945, and Sila Lumenn. Thank you, ladies! And my thanks to everyone for your enthusiasm for this story, and the entire "Quarantined" universe.

This chapter references “Reflections of the Past” chapters 1, 4, 5, and 6, and “Force of Nature” chapter 9.

Valandil took up his abode in Annúminas, but his folk were diminished, and of the Númenoreans and of the Men of Eriador there remained now too few to people the land or to maintain all the places that Elendil had built … Ever they dwindled with the years, until their glory passed, leaving only green mounds in the grass. At length naught was left of them but a strange people wandering secretly in the wild, and other men knew not their homes nor the purpose of their journeys, and save in Imladris, in the house of Elrond, their ancestry was forgotten. ‘Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age’, The Silmarillion

“Captain...” Halbarad could barely speak. He stared at the image of Lúthien, ancient beyond imagining, entranced by the beauty of what was before him.

“There is more,” Aragorn said, guiding the awestruck young Ranger to the carving of Beren.

“This is unbelievable,” Halbarad murmured. “Truly did you speak of hidden treasures.”

“And hidden they must remain,” Aragorn warned his friend. “Very few know of these carvings, Halbarad. I asked Bilbo if I might show them to you.”

“I will thank him myself,” Halbarad said. “This is like a window into Ages past; I have often wondered if the old stories were just... stories.”

“They are not,” Aragorn said. “Arminas, an Elf from the Havens, was shown these carvings. He assured us that they do portray Beren and Lúthien as he remembers them.”

“I know you will not,” Aragorn assured him. “Bilbo and Frodo would be besieged should this secret be revealed.” He smiled. “Guarding the Shire, and its inhabitants, takes many forms, my friend.”

“I will never forget it,” Halbarad whispered. His mind flew back to the proudest day of his life.

“My life and honor now given to defense, justice, and steadfast diligence for the safety of the lands and peoples under our protection. Beneath bright Eärendil who lights our way, and in remembrance of Elros Tar-Minyatar, father of line and blood, I swear this oath of fealty to the Dúnedain here in the presence of my family, my comrades, my brothers...”

“I spoke those same words, as did my father, as did his,” Aragorn said. “We have pledged our lives to the guardianship of Middle-earth, Halbarad. We are few, but we are vigilant. What safety and peace we may bring to others, we must do.” He reverently touched the carving of Beren. “And those who came before us still watch... and wait.”

Halbarad turned to Aragorn. “Little remains of Annúminas, Captain, and yet the very stones seemed to speak to me. They wait, as well.”

Aragorn smiled. “Come, let us share a late breakfast with Bilbo. It is time your tale was told.”

Frodo opened his eyes, surprised to discover that it was late morning. He had only the vaguest memory of Aragorn scooping him up, pillows, quilts, and all, and tucking him – under protest – into bed. He stretched gingerly, relieved to feel much less sore than he had been.

“How are you doing, girl?” he asked, turning to look at Scamp. Frodo could see that the soft and warm fleece lining Scamp’s basket had been changed, and the new mother looked supremely content with her litter of healthy pups snuggled close. He slid carefully out of bed, and sat for a few moments rubbing Scamp behind the ears and telling her how proud he was. He gently stroked each pup under their mother’s watchful gaze, then hurried to wash and dress.

When Frodo finally came to the dining room, yawning and tucking in his shirt, he found Bilbo, Halbarad, and Aragorn sitting at the table, drinking tea and talking quietly.

“Not that... Halbarad’s story,” Frodo told him, loading a plate with fruit and muffins. “If I did, he’ll just have to tell the whole thing over again.”

“I had barely begun. You appear to be feeling much better,” Halbarad said, as the boy sat down.

“She and the pups are doing well,” Aragorn smiled. “She had her breakfast at a decent hour, while you were lazing the day away.”

“Don’t let this Ranger fool you, my lad,” Bilbo said. “We all slept late this morning.”

“I have only related my tale so far as my approach to Lake Evendim,” Halbarad smiled at Frodo. “Shall I continue?”

“Thanks to Bilbo’s map, I was easily able to locate the meeting place,” Halbarad said. “A half-dozen most colorfully and richly dressed individuals awaited me at the edge of the lake, stroking their beards and fingering strong axes. The Dwarves had set up a rude camp among the scattered stones on a small rise near the lake, but I saw no horses.”

“To my very bones!” Halbarad admitted. “However, the solemn countenances of my hosts would have been much more intimidating, had Bilbo not spoken to me at length about what I might expect.” He looked gravely at Bilbo. “I bring you greetings from the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains, Burglar Baggins.”

“They certainly have. As a matter of fact, it is partially due to your fame and high esteem amongst Durin’s folk that I was able to return here so swiftly.”

“The truth,” laughed Halbarad. “When the Dwarves learned that a fond relation of yours had been hurt, and my chieftain as well, their demeanor changed from solemnity to great compassion, and they promised to dispense with the lengthy ritual and ceremony that were usual for such negotiations. I told them that I longed to return to my chieftain’s side, but assured them that the concerns of the Dwarves and the agreement we would reach held priority.”

“Thank you, Captain. The ‘business’ part of our meeting went swiftly. The Dwarves requested permission from the Men of the West to explore the surrounding hills for minerals and gems; in return, they offered their assistance in rebuilding Annúminas, should we ever wish it done. I agreed, and we each pledged, on behalf of our people, to honor our vows.” He grew serious. “It is no small thing to which they have agreed; the ancient city is in ruins, its stones scattered and broken. The Dwarves had apparently been camped there for several days, and already had many ideas about how to rebuild the city, and how it might appear when they had done so.”

“Very well, indeed,” Halbarad replied. “After our pledges were made, we sat and ate together, and talked far into the night. I was astonished at the depth of their feelings, and the beauty and power of their songs. When Dwarves speak of the earth, it is as poetry.”

“That is true,” Bilbo nodded. “A Dwarf’s reverence for the earth is as heartfelt as an Elf singing of the stars.” He looked knowingly at Halbarad. “Did they bid you drink with them?”

“They did; however, I fear that in this endeavor I did not represent my people well enough. They told me I would no doubt learn to drink more heartily when I was old enough to grow a proper beard.” Halbarad smiled, rubbing his chin.

“Halbarad, I believe I will send you on any negotiating missions from now on,” Aragorn said. “Most of them are quite tedious and protracted.”

“Believe me, Captain, I am much more comfortable fighting brigands or tracking orcs than I am with diplomacy! I still have much to learn.”

“You’re still having headaches, aren’t you?” he asked worriedly. “Sam said you may have hit your head again when you went to look at the carvings.”

“I do not think I injured myself, but yes, my head still aches at times,” Aragorn admitted. “Hopefully it will ease by the time we return to Bree.”

“Take Gilly’s medicine with you, in case you can’t sleep,” Bilbo urged his friend.

“Don’t let him get too tired, Halbarad,” Frodo insisted. “Estel’s had this lovely vacation here, and it would be a shame if you both had to get back to Rangering too soon.”

Sam came to visit the pups, and he and Frodo huddled together in Frodo’s bedroom. Later that afternoon, Aragorn, Halbarad, and Bilbo relaxed outside on the bench beneath the trees.

“Have you thought much about what it will be like... when the King comes back?” Bilbo asked.

“I have, Bilbo -- from time to time,” Aragorn said. “However, there are many bridges to be crossed ’ere that day may arrive.” He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering his vision from the cavern. “So much time has passed. So much has been lost and forgotten. ”

“From the ashes a fire shall be woken,” Bilbo quoted softly. “Remade shall be blade that was broken.”

“I have finished, and it just awaits a time to be shared.” Bilbo gazed gravely at Aragorn. “I will add my hope to your own, Estel.”

Frodo came outside, then, and joined them. Aragorn helped him up on the bench between himself and Bilbo.

“Sam’s telling the pups all about the Gamgee family,” Frodo told them. “I don’t think they can even hear yet! But he says it’s never too early to teach them which plants not to dig up, and how good his mum’s cooking is.”

“Halfred took the news of the pups to Farmer Cotton; Tom will come up in a few days to give us all lessons in caring for them.”

“Oh, and Sam’s finally named the twins. He wanted me to come out and tell everyone.”

“That was hours ago,” Frodo said. “They’ve had a dozen names each since then.”

“‘Patch’ and ‘Blossom’. I can’t tell them apart yet, but Sam claims he can. And of course Scamp won’t have any trouble.”

“I am certain of that,” Aragorn said. “And there will be time enough for us to get to know them a bit before Halbarad and I depart tomorrow.”

“Estel, why are you always leaving?” Frodo grumbled. “Don’t you like it here?”

“You know I do, little one,” Aragorn said, hugging his small friend. “I visit whenever I can.”

“I know,” Frodo whispered. He threw his arms around Aragorn’s neck and clung to him for a moment before letting go. “And Halbarad,” Frodo continued, “I know your pup will get a real name when he goes to his new home, but we have to call him something in the meantime.”

“Sam and I discussed it, and decided on ‘Ranger’,” Frodo grinned. “He’s so scruffy, and constantly needs a bath, and... well, it just fits, don’t you think?”

“The two of you are the scamps of this family,” Aragorn chuckled, “and always will be.”

Just when I thought the story was over, one more chapter nudged to be written! Big hugs and thank you's to Elemmírë for an idea she gave me, which inspired this epilogue. I’m very grateful. And so, just a teensy bit more of our puppy tale...

“They do things proper at Bag End.” Hamfast Gamgee, The Fellowship of the Ring

When the puppies were old enough to leave their mother, Halbarad made a short visit to Bag End. He returned the books he had borrowed, enjoyed a few days of the hobbits' hospitality, then prepared to go, taking with him the pup he had chosen for Serindë. He thanked Frodo and Bilbo many times, and promised to write to let everyone know how ‘Ranger’ was faring in Bree.

By this time, Sam and Frodo were taking the two remaining pups -- Patch and Blossom -- for regular visits to Sam's home. The entire Gamgee family was delighted with the spirited, playful pups, and everyone took turns petting, playing with, and beginning to train them. It wasn’t long before "the twins", as Sam called them, were as comfortable at Number 3, Bagshot Row as they were at Bag End with Scamp.

Daddy Twofoot was at first a bit alarmed at the prospect of “a pack of wild hounds,” as he phrased it, moving in next door. However, once he grew used to the tiny and friendly pups frisking about, he officially pronounced them “harmless little things,” and was twice caught sneaking treats to them.

Both Frodo and Sam were a bit put out by the fact that, although they spent the most time with Patch and Blossom, the pups had apparently both fallen head over heels in love with... the Gaffer. They followed him about wherever he went, and he was hard-pressed not to look as delighted as he felt. When Bilbo casually mentioned his “little shadows”, the Gaffer appeared surprised.

“You mean the little ’uns, Master?” Hamfast asked. “Why, I suppose they just realize that I’m head of the household, is all. Tryin’ to curry favors with me, no doubt. Well, they’ll get no special treatment, you can take my word on it. Hard trainin’ and discipline, that’s what I always say.” And he knelt to pat the ‘little ’uns’, grinning widely as they nearly wagged themselves into a frenzy.

It was now easier to tell the pups apart, even though their coloring remained remarkably similar. Blossom was a bit larger, braver, and more apt to get into trouble, whereas Patch was quieter and more hesitant about new things and people -- preferring to let her sister’s nose be the first to poke into an enticing hole or new clump of dirt. But when it came to napping, they were exactly alike -- both heading instinctively toward either a patch of warm sunshine, or the nearest friendly lap. Just like their mother.

After much discussion between the Bagginses and the Gamgees, it was decided that the pups would be "officially adopted" at Yule. And so, on a crisp night at the end of December, there came a knock on the Gamgees’ door. It opened so quickly that Frodo, standing on the front step with Bilbo and Scamp, laughed out loud. Sam had obviously been watching for them, and the lad was nearly beside himself with excitement. His mother and sisters came to greet the guests.

“Happy Yule, everyone,” Bilbo said. “Mmmm, what’s that wonderful smell?”

“Happy Yule, sirs," Bell Gamgee said with a welcoming smile. "Please come in."

“Where’s the pups, Mr. Frodo?” Young Marigold tugged on Frodo’s jacket. “Mum knitted ’em sweaters!”

Frodo smiled and put down the basket he held, and the twins scrambled out to be petted and fussed over. Soon, however, they and Scamp were following their noses toward the kitchen, knowing from experience what good tidbits were to be found there.

Bell hung up her guests' cloaks and jackets on pegs in the front hall, and insisted they make themselves comfortable in the parlor's best chairs until supper was ready. She and the Gaffer were proud of their home, which was warm and inviting with laughing children and fragrant hearthfires crackling merrily.

Supper was a laughing, noisy affair, with the hobbits feasting on soup, roast turkey, whipped potatoes, Bell’s herb bread with butter, fresh greens, and two kinds of pie for dessert.

While everyone was forking down the last of the pie, and praising Bell and the girls for the wonderful meal, Frodo excused himself for a moment. He returned with two items retrieved from a pocket of his jacket – a rolled-up scroll and a small, paper-wrapped package. He bent to pat Scamp, who lay on the floor under his chair chewing busily on a soup bone, then stood up and faced the feasting hobbits.

“Ahem,” Frodo said, getting everyone’s attention. He opened the scroll with a flourish.

“We, the signatories of this document,” he read, “do hereby attest that Number Three, Bagshot Row, a respected dwelling in Hobbiton, the Shire, is a proper and fitting home for its new residents, two dogs born to Scamp Baggins, a good and loving mother -- said new residents to be known as Patch and Blossom Gamgee; and that Samwise Gamgee, a minor, is a proper and fitting owner for the aforementioned Patch and Blossom, being the son of Hamfast and Bell Gamgee and living under their roof; and that the aforementioned Hamfast and Bell Gamgee, respected hobbits and parents of the aforementioned Samwise, agree to provide a safe, loving, and nurturing environment for Patch and Blossom, and oversee their care, upbringing, manners, being friendly to the neighbors, and not digging up gardens that don’t belong to them.”

“If that don’t beat all.” Bell shook her head in amazement at the legal-sounding document.

“That sounded quite nice, Mr. Frodo. Very proper.” Hamfast nodded his approval, especially after hearing "not digging up gardens that don't belong to them" -- a phrase which Sam had known his father would enjoy hearing.

Frodo sat down and handed the document to Sam, who then passed the scroll around the table. When it reached her, Bell smiled lovingly when she recognized Sam’s signature beneath three others. She remembered the look of it from the many hours her son had spent practicing diligently when Mr. Bilbo was teaching him his letters.

“It’s just like Scamp’s adoption papers,” Sam said proudly. He had longed for a document as wonderfully wordy and “official” as the one Frodo had written for Scamp, several years before. “I helped Mr. Frodo with it a bit. We signed it, and so did Mr. Bilbo and Farmer Cotton!”

“Read it again, Mr. Frodo!” Marigold said excitedly. She hadn’t understood more than a few words, but loved hearing Frodo’s voice reading to them.

“Now don’t be botherin’ Mr. Frodo,” Hamfast smiled. “Is there anythin’ else we need to do, sir?”

“That’s it,” Bilbo grinned. “You’re a father again, Hamfast. Hope they don’t give you as much trouble as your other kids.” He smiled fondly at the Gamgees.

“Thank you for your trust, sir,” Hamfast said, shaking Bilbo’s hand. “We’ll raise ’em up good.”

“I know you will,” Bilbo assured him. “Thank you for inviting us to Yule dinner, Bell.”

“Wait, there’s one more thing,” Frodo said. He handed Sam the package. “Estel sent this for the twins, all the way from Bree!”

“He did?” Sam asked in awe. He untied the string and unwrapped the package. He found a folded note atop a small drawstring bag.

“Dear Sam,” he read slowly and carefully. “Congratulations on adopting the pups; you and your family will give them a wonderful home. I know they will have grown quite a bit by the time I see them – and you – again. I hope they enjoy this little gift. I hate to encourage them to follow in their mother’s wicked ways so early, but I suppose some things are just inevitable. With fond regards, Estel.”

“Read it again, Sam!” Marigold crowed. Her mother laughed and pulled the little girl onto her lap for a cuddle.

Sam opened the bag and peeked inside, then started to laugh. He shook out on the table two brand-new leather bootlaces of the type Rangers wore.

“They’ll be sure to greet Estel with great enthusiasm when he next visits,” Frodo chuckled. "They'll have chewed these up, and be ready to start in on his."

“This is the best Yule ever,” Sam sighed with happiness. “Thank you, Mr. Frodo.”

“You are quite welcome, Sam,” Frodo hugged his friend. “Happy Yule. I hope you'll bring the pups up The Hill for a visit soon, wearing their new sweaters.”

"I surely will," Sam said. He turned to gaze happily at the guests of honor. Patch and Blossom Gamgee lay contentedly in front of the warm hearth, sound asleep, paws and noses sweetly intertwined.

Bilbo and Frodo exchanged knowing glances. They well remembered Scamp's transformation when she came to live with them; the sleepy, calm, innocent-appearing pup had quickly become a lively, mischievous rascal, whom they loved dearly. They suspected that Patch and Blossom would be no different... and that their new family wouldn't mind a bit.

When the King Comes Back by shirebound