A Surprise for Frodo

By: Elemmírë

Summary: Frodo is under the impression that his uncle forgot a day which is very important to him. Frodo is 22; Bilbo is 100 (ages 14 & 64 in Man years).

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings does not belong to me, nor am I making any profit off either its story or characters.

Author's Note: This was written originally for Marigold's Tale Challenge #29. I chose to include the following elements from the categories of Marigold's list: a parent, a sibling, a celebration, a journey, a farm, an inn, & a baker. Beta'd by Marigold.

1390 S.R.

It was very late in the afternoon when 22-year old Frodo Baggins arrived home, lugging his uncle's handcart up the Hill to Bag End. That morning after elevenses, Bilbo had given him some money and asked him to walk to the Cotton farm to purchase three pounds of Mrs. Cotton’s freshly-churned butter and one can of buttermilk. It wasn’t an unusual trip for him to undertake, as both items were the very best to be found in the area, however Frodo was disappointed because Bilbo apparently forgot what day this was. Frodo adjusted his grip on the handles of the pull-cart, trying not to dwell on his uncle's forgetful tendencies. He vaguely wondered if Bilbo was going to bake any delicious treats with the items in the cart.

"Hello, Frodo-lad!" a voice called out rather loudly.

Frodo looked up and saw his guardian emerge from the round door of Bag End on the pretence of lighting his pipe for a smoke outside. Bilbo met his nephew and heir at the front gate and held it open while Frodo pushed the handcart up the path to the wooden bench near the front door.

"Thank you for running this errand for me, Frodo-lad. I appreciate it greatly."

"You’re welcome, Uncle. It was nice to see the Cotton family again and Mrs. Cotton sent us a pie," Frodo replied, fighting the urge to wipe his dusty, sweaty hands on his breeches in front of his uncle, the Master of Bag End.

Bilbo found the wonderful-smelling pie on the top of the small cart and removed it along with the milk can and butter. Taking one look at his nephew’s furry hobbit feet, he instructed Frodo to use the out-of-doors water pump to wash up with. "After all, I don't want any dust or dirt tracked in on my freshly scrubbed floors," he said in a jovial, yet semi-stern manner.

While Frodo washed up outside, Bilbo took the pie and the packages the lad had brought home inside to the kitchen, sneaking a lick of the pie filling. Hmm, Lily Cotton was almost as good a baker as Bell Gamgee. Then, he met his nephew on the front doorstep and bade the young hobbit to close his eyes and cover them with his hands for good measure, much to Frodo’s confusion, before leading him into the smial.

"Bilbo, what is going on?" Frodo asked impatiently for the third time in as many minutes.

"I told you, Frodo my lad, it’s a surprise." Bilbo said, leading Frodo around in circles and backtracking through the smial, doing a very good job at disorienting the tweenager.

"Well, you’re acting very mysteriously. Can’t you give me a hint? Even a little one?" Frodo asked hopefully.

Bilbo shook his head, then realized his nephew would not be able to see the gesture. "I’m afraid not, Frodo. If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?"

Frodo grumbled under his breath, trying not to trip over his furry feet as he was led through the tunnels of Bag End. Honestly, sometimes his uncle's eccentricities were a bit much.

Bilbo smiled. He had had a difficult time figuring out just how to get away with this particular surprise, for Frodo was an extremely bright and spirited lad. As a Baggins, he had a knack for knowing when something suspicious was going on. Bilbo had spent weeks planning out the details when he was sure Frodo was sound asleep in his bed. His lists and reminders he had kept amongst his notes for the Red Book, knowing Frodo would dare not look there unless invited to do so. Other preparations and distractions had required the help of the Gamgee family. Bell Gamgee had graciously offered to help him when it was time for the final preparations to commence.

The hardest part of the entire plan had been making sure Frodo was kept busy after luncheon on the actual day; kept away from Bag End and Bagshot Row; and most importantly, had no idea or suspicions that something unusual was going on around him.

Frodo felt Bilbo’s gentle hands on his shoulders, guiding him to a halt. With his eyes shut, Frodo could not tell where he was. Frodo wasn’t sure, but he thought he could smell something delicious. He thought he could get away with a one-eyed peek through his fingers, but Bilbo knew him too well and was sharp on the uptake.

"Uh-uh, Frodo-lad. There is to be no peeking."

Frodo felt the older hobbit move to stand behind him and then he felt Bilbo’s larger hands over his own smaller ones. The now distinct smell of food grew stronger and Frodo’s mouth began to water. There was the creak of a door opening and was it his imagination or did he just hear what sounded like a giggle? Bilbo squeezed his hands and then pulled them away from his face saying, "All right, Frodo. You may now have a look."

Frodo opened his eyes and gasped at the sight before him. "Surprise!" yelled the hobbits sitting around the long table in Bilbo’s seldom-used dining room.

Frodo’s mouth opened and his eyes widened in shock. There, sitting before him at the right side of the table was the entire Gamgee family dressed in their very best; the three lasses all had their pretty curls done up in ribbons. The Gaffer, as usual, looked a mite uncomfortable sitting with the gentry in his employer’s grand and lavish smial, but he smiled warmly at Frodo before tugging nervously at the collar of his best shirt.

Seated at the left side of the table were Merry, Auntie Esme, Uncle Sara, Uncle Rory, Auntie Gilda, Aunt Dora, Uncle Dudo, Aunt Chrysanthemum, and Cousin Daisy with her husband Griffo Boffin, and their recently turned six-year old son, Folco.

"Surprise, Frodo my lad. I didn't forget," Bilbo whispered into his ear, leading his bewildered nephew to sit in the place of honor at the head of the table. As Frodo stumbled into his seat, he was happy to see that Merry and Sam, his two greatest friends, had the honor themselves of sitting right beside him. They grinned at him while Bilbo took the empty seat left open for him in between Merry and Auntie Esme.

Frodo gaped. Before his eyes lay a veritable feast. There were different cheeses and breads; two roasted chickens and a large honey-glazed ham; several different mushroom dishes, a tureen of thick, creamy soup; several dozen vegetable dishes and casseroles; and a huge platter of various fruits including his favorite--strawberries. There was even a special bottle of the wine Bilbo’s father, Bungo, had once laid down--the Old Wineyards.

The table was set with Bilbo’s best china plates and finest silverware, both of which were only used on very important or special occasions. In the middle of the long table was a beautiful centerpiece of fresh-cut flowers that could only have been arranged by the Gaffer. On the sideboard was a young hobbit’s dream come true--the top of the sideboard was laden with every kind of dessert imaginable … and then some! In the middle of the sweets was Bilbo’s silver serviette and tea set, handed down to him from his mother, Belladonna Took. On the other side of the tea set, was a large cake that spoke volumes of Bell Gamgee being its baker.

Once Frodo could tear his eyes away from the sheer amount of food, he observed that the dining room was decorated with brightly colored paper streamers hanging from the walls and high ceiling. Finally, his gaze came to rest upon a huge banner that hung over the mantle of the large stone fireplace and spanned the width of the room.

All seated at the table watched as the dumbfounded and confused expression on Frodo’s face turned to understanding as he finally spied the banner. It read:

"What? H-how?" Frodo stammered. He leaned forward in his chair to better see Bilbo. "I thought you forgot! How did you do all of this without me knowing, Uncle?"

Bilbo laughed, inordinately pleased that his oftentimes forgetfulness had worked to his advantage in keeping the secrecy of the surprise from this particular hobbit. "Well, I would love to be able to take all the credit for this, Frodo my lad, but alas I cannot. I had some help." The old hobbit’s brown eyes sparkled with delighted mischief.

Frodo was an extremely bright and sharp lad and quickly deduced whom Bilbo’s "help" was. His suspicions were confirmed when Sam blushed and little Marigold, who was sitting in between her parents, apart from the rest of her siblings, giggled.

"It was the Gamgee’s, wasn’t it?" he said.

Bilbo nodded, his slowly-greying curls bouncing with the movement. "Yes, each Gamgee played their part much to my grateful appreciation. As you’ve probably already guessed, Master Hamfast created the centerpiece with the help of young Samwise. Daisy, May, and little Marigold dyed the streamers, then Hamson and Halfred helped me to hang them up this afternoon … while you were otherwise occupied. Daisy and May also helped me to set the table, along with your cousin, Merry."

"But how were you able to cook all of this food without me knowing about it? I mean, where did you hide it all?" Although he had been to several feasts in his life, Frodo continued to be amazed at the sheer amount of food lining the dining room table of Bag End. If Frodo thought he was amazed, the Gamgees were even more so, having never been to so grand a feast before.

"Some of the ingredients--the ones that would arouse the least suspicion--were kept in the pantries and cold room here, with the hopes that a certain growing tween wouldn’t get into them. The rest was stored at the Gamgee’s smial and even some at Widow Rumble’s, I believe. As for the cooking, it was Gilda, Esmeralda, Bell, and I that did most of it. May and Halfred have been running back and forth between Bagshot Row and Bag End all afternoon, carrying finished dishes and ingredients."

"And the banner?" Frodo asked, admiring the colorful work of art hanging over the mantle.

"Ah yes, I thought you’d wonder about that. Samwise’s early morning lessons have been of a different variety this week, I’m afraid. The trick was hiding it from you, my dear boy," Bilbo explained.

Frodo laughed. No wonder Bilbo had let him sleep in past second breakfast nearly every day this week!

"I helped Uncle Bilbo and Sam put the finishing touches on it too, Frodo," Merry piped up. "I made the stars."

"And a fine job you did of it too, Merry," Frodo praised. He looked at the banner more closely, noticing two little handprints in the far right-hand corner of the sign, next to what he guessed was supposed to be flower of some sort, although it didn’t resemble any of the other flowers decorating the sign.

"Whose handprints are those? They’re too small to be either yours or Sam’s," he asked curiously.

"Folco saw them and thought they were playing with the paint. He wanted to join the big lads and play too, so Sam was kind enough to help him add his handprints," Cousin Daisy explained as Sam’s chubby cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red.

Little Folco was quiet as he sat on his wooden booster seat at the big table in awe of so many hobbits; he grinned and waved happily at Frodo when he saw his older cousin, however. The palms of the little hands were still faintly tinged blue. His smile grew even bigger when he saw his big cousin wave back.

As the dishes of food were passed around and plates filled (not to mention hobbit bellies), Frodo came to learn that his Brandybuck family had stayed overnight at the Green Dragon Inn, only emerging when Hamson Gamgee came to fetch them after Frodo was sent off from Bag End. He also learned that his errand to the Cotton farm in Bywater had been a ruse to keep him away from Bag End for the afternoon while final preparations for the surprise party were under way.

Frodo hadn’t suspected a thing and had enjoyed his visit to the farm but upon looking back, he realized that Mrs. Cotton had not seemed to want him to leave. As she took her time preparing the butter and milk for travel, Frodo had played with the elder four of the five little Cotton children, allowing Tom, Rosie, Jolly, and Nick to show him their new chicken coop and helped them to gather the newly laid eggs. After the butter was packed and the milk can filled, Mrs. Cotton had insisted that he join them for luncheon, then plied him with a strawberry pie to take home, which of course had to cool first.

Frodo smiled as he ate. Obviously Mrs. Cotton had been well-informed of Bilbo’s secret plans beforehand.

After the corners were filled and before the tea was served, the Master of Bag End rose to his feet and came to stand behind his nephew’s chair. "I would like to make a toast of sorts. As you all know one year ago today, I became a father of sorts by adopting Frodo and bringing him to live here at Bag End, despite hearsay from many that I was not fit to raise a tweenager … much less a spirited one at that. However, none of that ill-rumored gossip came from any of you sitting here now. I know that some you perhaps had your doubts ... as did I at times. But thanks to your unwavering support and love I have learned a lot this past year as has Frodo, I'm sure."

Bilbo placed his hands on his young nephew’s shoulders, squeezing gently. "While it may not have been easy at times ... for either of us," here the old hobbit chuckled wryly and Frodo grinned fondly, looking up at his uncle as he continued. "I would not change my decision to adopt Frodo for anything in the whole of Middle-earth. I love this lad more than anything and there is no better heir or hobbit to be found in all the Shire, in my opinion."

Bilbo kissed the top of his beloved nephew's dark curls, then lifted his glass of the Old Wineyards in toast. The rest of the hobbits followed suit--the children raising their glasses of sparkling apple juice, save Frodo who was allowed a small taste of the century-old wine on his special day.

"To Frodo!"

"Here here," called out Saradoc, raising his wine glass in salute to his former foster son and Bilbo.

"To Frodo!" the rest chimed in unison before taking hefty swallows of their own drinks.

"To Frodo!" little Folco crowed happily, kicking his feet and waving his blue hands around. He squirmed away from his mother's attempts at wiping the milk mustache off his face.

Frodo felt his face grow red at all the attention and he hastily took a sip of the small amount of wine Bilbo had poured him. Mr. and Mrs. Gamgee looked just as uncomfortable as he, unaccustomed as they were to such finery. Frodo was glad they were there however--he was happy that Bilbo had invited all those who meant the most to him. The only ones not present at the party were the Tooks, whom he found out later could not attend due to the three lasses being ill with severe colds.

"Merry, if you would be so kind as to hand me the scroll inside the top drawer of the sideboard … there’s a good lad, thank you." Bilbo placed the scroll in Frodo’s hands. "Open it, Frodo-lad."

Frodo untied the blue ribbon from the scroll and did as he was bid. He began to read silently, smiling as he went along and was soon laughing brightly at his uncle’s bit of fun. The sound was like music to the ears of his former Brandybuck guardians; Frodo had been such a dour little figure whilst living with them and they had all feared the lad would drown in his melancholy and never laugh so heartily again.

"What does it say, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked curiously. The rest of his siblings looked to be just as curious, despite a warning look from their gaffer.

Frodo waved the parchment in the air for all to see. "It’s a set of mock adoption papers proclaiming that Bilbo has decided he will still keep me!"

A small folded-up note had fallen out of the scrolled parchment and Bilbo picked it up, slipping it into one pocket.

* * * * *

After the toast, tea and dessert were served. Frodo tasted a forkful of the cake and closed his eyes in bliss. "You are a wonderful baker, Mrs. Gamgee," he proclaimed.

The others all agreed with the tweenager’s assessment and Bell Gamgee soon found herself making a promise to the other hobbit ladies to have Sam write out her recipe as she dictated to send them.

Evening quickly passed and as the Sun set, the party guests--with leftovers in hand--bid a fond farewell to Bilbo and Frodo. The Gamgee family were the first to leave and thanked the Master of Bag End profusely for seeing fit to invite them to the private affair. Bilbo thanked them for all their hard work and help and wished them all well and goodnight, decreeing that Master Hamfast take tomorrow off to spend the day with his family.

The Brandybucks and the Boffins had a more difficult time taking their leave, for Merry and Folco wanted to stay and play with their Cousin Frodo. Esmeralda and Daisy had to promise their sons they could come play with Frodo tomorrow before the Brandybucks had to travel back to Buckland.

Frodo helped his uncle clean up the dining room and wash the table service, being very careful in the handling of Bilbo’s best plates. Bilbo caught him humming the tune the thirteen Dwarves had once sang in this very kitchen decades earlier and joined in, the humming eventually turning into singing.

After the remaining leftovers were neatly packed to be delivered to the Twofoots and Widow Rumble (the other two hobbit families living in the smials lining Bagshot Row) and the Cotton family on the morn, Bilbo settled into his favorite armchair in the parlor to have a smoke, Frodo curled up at his side. Bilbo narrated an Elvish tale to his lad in between sucking on his pipe. When he finished the story, the two hobbits sat together in silence, enjoying each other’s company and the rich hearty scent of the pipeweed.

It was Frodo who finally broke the stillness. "You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble just for me, Uncle," he said quietly.

Bilbo frowned, the corners of his mouth turning down around the long stem of his pipe. "And why not, Frodo Baggins?"

"I don’t deserve it … I’m nobody special," the lad whispered, fidgeting on the chair.

"Pish-posh. You deserved every bit of that party and more. You’re very special to me, Frodo-lad, and this day is very special to me and deserves as much celebration as do our birthdays. I meant every word of my speech, you know. This day is for you, Frodo .…"

He reached into his pocket, pushing the gold ring on its chain aside in his haste to find what he had placed there earlier. Bilbo withdrew the small note that had fallen to the dining room floor and pressed it into Frodo’s small hands. "Here."

"What's this?"

"Frodo, my dear boy, you will often find that I am better at writing words down on paper than I am at speaking them freely. I wrote this out because I didn't want these particular words to sound rehearsed to you.

"You were supposed to have read this earlier, but it fell out of the scroll when you opened it. If you ever doubt how special you are to me or how much you are loved, all you ever need do is read that, for every single word of it is true and from the heart."

Curious, Frodo opened the note. The note was written entirely in Elvish in Bilbo’s spidery handwriting. Frodo slowly read it, sounding out the Elvish words; when he came to a word he didn't know, he discovered he could simply look at the translation in the Common tongue written underneath each line of Elvish. It was just like the Elvish reading and writing lessons Bilbo made for him.

Frodo's large blue eyes welled up with emotion and he looked into his uncle's warm, knowing gaze. "I didn't know you were scared too, Bilbo. I was scared ... I was scared that I wouldn't fit in in Hobbiton and it wouldn't feel like home, just like Brandy Hall never did, or that Merry would be mad at me forever for leaving him." Frodo looked down at his entwined fingers. "I was scared that after a while you wouldn't want me anymore," he whispered.

Bilbo hugged his nephew close and tilted the little chin upwards until Frodo's blue eyes were focused on him. "Oh Frodo, that will never, ever happen. Do you hear me? You are adopted by me and are legally mine now. I cannot just send you away in good conscience, nor would I. We might have our disagreements on occasion as you grow, but I promise we will work them out together."

This was a conversation he’d had many times with Frodo this past year, but he had never once spoken openly of his own fears to the boy. He wondered if that would make any sort of difference. Bilbo laid one arm across his heir’s narrow shoulders and drew him closer. He knew it was only a matter of time before the orphaned lad felt an orphan no more and truly settled to living life in Hobbiton.

"Thank you, Uncle. That is reassuring to know. I have not been scared anymore … Merry still loves me and I like Hobbiton very, very much."

Frodo laid his head against his uncle’s chest and sighed happily. "This day is special to me too, for it is the day I came home. I’m glad I’m here with you, Bilbo … I’m glad I’m home."

The End