Frodo looked at the oliphaunt standing in his parlor. “Ready, Sam?”

The trunk wobbled as the head bobbed enthusiastically up and down several times. “Ready, Mr. Frodo!”

Frodo extended his hand to the twelve-year-old lad underneath and then turned to the dragon that stood beside him. “Bye, Uncle!”

The dragon growled menacingly and then showed the Elven warrior and oliphaunt out the door. Frodo laughed, Sam waved his trunk and they were off.

“Where should we go first, Sam?” Frodo asked with a bright smile, holding his wooden sword in one hand and Sam’s hand in the other.

“It don’t matter to me, Mr. Frodo, though the candies are always good at the Cotton’s. I don’t want to miss those and I hope they’ll be some of Mr. Bilbo’s candied apples left by the time we’re back. Those are my favorites.”

Frodo leaned down and in a conspiratorial whisper said, “I don’t think we have anything to worry about there, Sam, since I have it on good authority that two of the very best ones are being kept back just for us.”

The child’s face lit up. “Truly, Mr. Frodo?” He knew, of course, that Bag End was the most popular stop in all Hobbiton and he had feared there would be nothing left. He knew it wasn’t his place to take anything before others had had a chance.

“Truly. Let’s start at the Cotton’s then and work our way back until we are so full with sweets, we can’t even move! I’ll race you!”

Sam giggled and they set off. It was a bit hard at times to run around all the other lads and lasses out for the day, but they managed to make a breathless entrance a little over a quarter hour later to get their treats from Farmer Cotton and some sweetened cider to quench their thirst. They munched on the candies as they made a much more leisurely trip back, stopping at each hole along the way, their feet crunching the golden, red and orange leaves under them and enjoying the feel of the crisp air against the faces and through their curls.

Halfway back to Hobbiton, Frodo climbed onto a haycart and brandished his sword, pretending to be the Elf warrior he was dressed as. Just as he was jumping off though, a small lass dressed as a mouse toddled right under him. He twisted frantically in mid-air, fearing he would land right on her. He gave a small cry when he landed hard right beside her and his ankle twisted under him.

“Mr. Frodo!” Sam and the mum of the lass cried out in unison. “Are you all right?”

He looked at the frightened faunt staring at him. “Is Violet all right?”

“Yes, thanks to you,” Violet’s mum said. “Oh, Mr. Frodo, is there anything I could do for you? You shouldn’t be walking on that leg. It’s already swelling up.”

“I’ll go get the cart, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said. The child raced off, in tears from fright and sympathetic pain.

It wasn’t much later that the strange sight of a dragon pushing a garden cart, followed by a sniffling oliphaunt came into sight and stopped by the fallen warrior. “Thank you very much for keeping an eye out for him, Mrs. Bracegriddle,” the dragon said. “I understand my lad’s taken a bit of a tumble.”

“It’s all my fault, Mr. Bilbo,” the matron said. “If only my Violet hadn’t dashed out when she did. Mr. Frodo had to twist out of his way and I’m afraid he landed rather badly. You better get a cold press to that ankle straightaway - just look at how it’s swelling all ready.”

Bilbo looked down as directed, then up to Frodo whose fair features were scrunched with pain. “Don’t you worry, my lad, we’ll get you home fixed up just right, no need to fret about that. Help me out, Sam-lad, if you please.”

As carefully as they could, they maneuvered Frodo onto the cart. He bit his lip from crying out, trying to be brave. He looked up at his friend. “Please don’t cry, Sam,” he said. “Or you’ll make me want to.”

The child tried to stop, but had only partial success. He stood forlornly by the cart as Bilbo thanked Mrs. Bracegriddle again, then walked beside it as the elder hobbit pushed it back home. “I’m sorry, my boy. It’s good that Merry and Pippin couldn’t come after all, it looks like. Now that Took lad has found his legs are good for running and not just walking, we would have all been in a tizzy just keeping up with him.”

“At least they’ll be here for Yule. I’m glad Violet wasn’t hurt.”

“I am too.” He looked down at Frodo. “I am also very proud of you, Iorhael of the Woodland Realm and of Frodo of the Shire. That could have been a real mess back there, but you acted quickly and took the hurt and kept others safe.”

Frodo beamed through his pain. Seeing that helped Sam’s fear and pain also. Having his friend reach for his hand helped even more.

They got home and put the ailing Elven warrior in his favorite chair. Sam was quick to pull up another to prop up his friend’s ankle with. His lower lip quivered as he saw how swollen and nasty looking it was. When Bilbo touched it very gingerly and the tween jerked away with a hiss from between his clenched lips, both apologized. “It don’t think it’s broken,” the elder hobbit said as he gave it a good looking over and the gentlest of strokes. “But there’ll be no more adventures for you for at least a fortnight if not more.”

“Oh, Mr. Frodo!” Sam cried and began to sob once more.

“I’ll be fine, Sam, we’ll just have our adventures another way,” Frodo assured, though his voice shook a little and his face was pale. He couldn’t stop staring at how big and ugly looking his ankle was.

“Of course you’ll be all right,” Bilbo pronounced to soothe them both and reassure himself. “Sam, go into the cold room in the cellar and get a bit of ice for me and a cloth from the kitchen to wrap it in, if you please,” he added, knowing the child needed something to distract him. “We’ve got to get this swelling down.”

The oliphaunt dashed off. There was a knock at the door, but Bilbo ignored it, except to growl loudly. There were delighted giggles and more knocks. The dragon roared and they both heard some screeches and more giggles, then feet running quickly down the walk.

Frodo grinned despite his pain. “I think you enjoy this day just as much as the young ones do.”

Bilbo returned the smile, glad to see it. How beautiful his boy was! Shining bright even now. He never tired of looking at him. “You’re only as old as you feel, my lad.”

Sam returned shortly with the ice wrapped in cloths. “Here, Mr. Bilbo.”

“Thank you, my boy,” the dragon said as he took them.

The tween looked up rather frightened as Bilbo prepared to touch the tender area again. “I’m sorry, Frodo-lad, but this will help. Remember last summer when you fell when that tree branch gave? This is just the same.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

The tween gritted his teeth. Sam reached for his hand and Frodo wrapped his fingers around his friend’s so tightly it hurt, but Sam barely noticed. Frodo still gasped a bit when the cold press touched his ankle and Sam whimpered, but both tried to be strong for the other.

“There now,” Bilbo said when he removed the press ten minutes later. “Do you want to do it yourself next time? It’s got to be ten minutes on, then ten minutes off for at least another hour.”

Frodo nodded. They maneuvered his chair to be next to the door so at least he could have some fun that way, helping hand out the treats, to try to distract him from his pain. Sam brought a blanket to cover him and then hovered like a shadow. After the first hour had passed and the swelling had gone down a little and Frodo had been fortified with some willowbark tea for the pain, the tween suggested that Sam go out again and resume what had been interrupted.

The child looked scandalized. “Oh, no, Mr. Frodo, I couldn’t do that, not when you might need more help!”

Frodo looked earnestly at his friend. “I’m already feeling a little better, Sam, and I feel awful that all our fun was ruined. I don’t want you to miss out on anymore. I want you to go out and have enough fun for both of us.”

Sam still looked uncertain. “Are you sure, Mr. Frodo?”

The tween smiled. “Quite sure, Sam.”

The child left very reluctantly. He returned in tears only twenty minutes later, practically running to his future master’s side and placing his small hands on the armrest. “I tried to have fun, Mr. Frodo. I did. But I couldn’t without you. Can’t I stay here?”

The tween smiled into his friend’s pleading eyes and wiped at his tears. “Oh, my Sam, I’m sorry. Of course you may stay. I still want this day to be fun though for you. Would you like to help me give out the treats instead?”

The lad nodded. Frodo took Sam very carefully up into his lap and then placed the basket of goodies on Sam’s lap. “Comfortable, my brother?”

The child looked back. “Yes, Mr. Frodo, are you? I don’t want you hurt no more.”

Frodo smiled into those earnest, warm brown eyes. “I’m fine. You can help me with the cold presses too when we aren’t being besieged with all our visitors.”

Sam smiled. They settled into a routine of handing out treats and applying the cold presses. If anyone thought it strange to see an oliphaunt in the lap of Mad Baggin’s adopted lad, they said nothing, at least not until they were out of earshot. The children giggled and pointed and the lasses who came to see Frodo were jealous and flounced away, some without even getting their treats. Neither of the two lads seemed to be aware of the reason for that strange behavior, though Bilbo smiled at how oblivious his heir was to the effect he had on lasses.

“I like this a lot better, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said as Bilbo left to get dinner ready. “Mum always said you know when you’re at the right place and I know my place is with you.”

Frodo hugged his friend. “I’m glad, my Sam. I was wrong to send you away. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

Sam turned around and hugged him back. “Of course, Mr. Frodo.”

The strangest one who came looking for treats came right at the end. A great shadow fell over the door and Frodo and Sam craned their necks up as high as they could go to see a very tall one of the Big Folk towering over them. He had a large walking stick, longer than Frodo and Sam were tall combined and he had a grey robe, huge boots and tall hat with a brim that hid much of his face.

“Who are you supposed to be?” Frodo asked, curious and a bit scared. He held Sam a bit more tightly and protectively against him as the two of them trembled slightly.

“You mean you can’t tell?” came a deep, gentle, amused voice from beneath that huge hat. “I’m a wizard, of course. And I see you are an Elf and there is an oliphaunt in your lap. Very curious.”

“What are you doing here?” asked the hobbity Elf, now more curious and less scared. “I’ve never seen any of the Big People here on this day.”

There was a deep, soft laugh. “I heard that this hole is best place for treats. I’m not mistaken, am I?”

Frodo shook himself, a bit horrified and ashamed he had forgotten his manners. “No, no, of course not.”

Frodo prompted Sam, who was still rather scared, to give the wizard a candied apple. Huge, rough, weathered hands reached out from his cloak to accept the treat. “Thank you very much.”

Bilbo came back to the door. “Gandalf!” he exclaimed. “What a wonderful surprise!”

Frodo’s eyes widened. He had heard a lot about Gandalf, but he had never met the wizard.

Said wizard straightened and looked down at Bilbo. “You mean you forgot that I was coming? Where else would I get such delicious treats as I got from...” He trailed off, in question as to the identity of the one who had given him the apple.

“Forgive me. The hobbled Elf is Frodo and the oliphaunt is Samwise. I’m afraid Frodo took a bit of a tumble earlier and is rather laid up.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” The wizard reached out a hand. “May I?” he asked before touching the tween’s swollen and very tender ankle.

Frodo looked up at Bilbo who nodded. A warmth spread through the ankle as Gandalf touched it and some of the pain eased. “Thank you,” the tween breathed.

Dinner that night was rather lively with the unexpected guest. Sam was still rather overwhelmed and sat silently between his present and future master, staring up at the wizard most of the time and usually forgetting to eat. Frodo was just as forgetful but he was much more talkative and plied the wizard with many questions about the world outside, so many Gandalf laughed.

“A lively one you have here, Bilbo.”

Bilbo smiled proudly and lovingly. “The joy and light of my life, Gandalf.”

Gandalf did notice there was indeed a light to the beaming lad and not just one that came from without through a bright smile and tremendous curiosity. He saw much more. He looked briefly at Bilbo who nodded. The wizard detected a light also in the frightened lad with the large brown eyes that sat next to Frodo.

“Are you two brothers, Samwise?” he asked, trying to draw that one out who had not spoken a word the whole time.

The child looked rather startled to be addressed and stammered out a response the best he could. “Yes, sir, I mean, no, sir, not blood brothers, but...”

“Samwise is the youngest son of Hamfast, my gardener,” Bilbo supplied helpfully. “But he and Frodo are as close as brothers, nigh inseparable.”

Frodo beamed further and Sam smiled shyly as Frodo squeezed his hand under the table to encourage him.

Gandalf and Bilbo shared a pipe after dinner in the parlor while the two young ones had their candied apples for desert.

When they were done, Gandalf motioned to the ailing tween. “Let me take another look at your ankle, Frodo,” he said and gathered Frodo into his lap, holding the lad’s legs elevated on one knee. The tween settled against the wizard’s huge chest as Gandalf touched the tender area once more. Once the swelling was relieved a bit more and the pain diminished, Frodo sighed and snuggled closer, putting his arms around the wizard as far as they would reach. “Oh, thank you!”

“Now how about some tales?” the wizard said with a smile.

Frodo’s face lit up as he looked into those deep, dancing eyes. “Yes, please! Do you know some about the Elves? Sam and I love those!”

Gandalf’s smile widened. “I think I have a few you may not have heard before.”

Sam’s ears pricked up at that. He had remained silent, standing next to his friend, though he was a bit nervous about being so close to the wizard. Gandalf smiled kindly at him and motioned him to sit on his other knee. His eyes widened in fear.

“It’s all right, Sam,” Frodo said with a smile. “It’s actually quite comfortable and you’ll be up here with me.”

The child still looked uncertain but climbed up anyway. Huge arms held him and that gave him a start at first, but then he thought it really wasn’t so much different than being held on Frodo’s lap, bigger, but just as gentle. Frodo beamed at him and they settled down for a long tale. Bilbo smiled proudly at the sight. After an hour, Gandalf’s voice trailed off as Frodo’s head nodded and he surrendered at last to the sleep Sam already had.

The wizard rose smoothly with the two in his arms. “And where should we put these two sleepy ones?

“They can both go in Frodo’s bed. They don’t have it any other way whenever Sam sleeps over.”

Gandalf looked down at the two. “Samwise doesn’t kick in his sleep or anything? That ankle shouldn’t be bumped.”

“No, he sleeps like a log. And he would never do anything to hurt Frodo anyhow. He is fiercely protective of him.”

The wizard smiled and gently laid the two down. Frodo curled around Sam, their heads touching and hands reaching out for each other. The child knew even in his sleep to avoid his brother’s tender ankle.

“Thank you, Gandalf,” Bilbo said with a smile. “You’ve made this a very special day for them both.”

“And they made it for me. I’m glad to finally meet your heir and Samwise is a welcome one as well. They really do go well together, don’t they?”

“They do, indeed. They’ve adored each other since they met and Sam is very good for Frodo. He left behind a cousin only two years younger than Sam when he came here who was and is very dear to him. Sam has helped him not miss that one so much and they have formed a very close bond on their own terms as well.”

* * *

The first night established the routine that was to come. Gandalf stayed another week during which Frodo wasn’t allowed to leave bed, unless he was carried by the wizard, a fact that thrilled the tween at first for the novelty of it, but then wore off as the inability to do anything on his own began to chafe at him. But he knew better than to cross Bilbo and even more Sam who spent much of the next two weeks watching over his patient. The second day after they had determined the swelling at gone down enough, they had Frodo soak his ankle in water as hot as he could bear, alternating that with the cold presses. They both made sure he had plenty of juices made from fresh raw vegetables including beets, garlic and radishes. The tween made a face at the smell and taste of that and looked at his uncle and brother with an expression from those beautiful eyes that plainly said they had to be joking. When he saw that neither of them were, he looked hopefully at Gandalf, but seeing no help from that corner either, he choked down the first mug. When he tried to pour the second dose into a flower pot Sam had placed near his bed, he was caught in the act. He couldn’t decide what he felt more guilty for - not drinking it or pouring it into Sam’s beloved flowers when he saw his brother’s stricken face. He apologized over and over and knew he was forgiven, but felt wretched from guilt for two days after that. He swallowed every other dose without a complaint and hardly, he hoped, without even a grimace, though he wasn’t sure how well he had succeeded in that. Sam did have some pity on him and served him some chamomile and willowbark tea to soothe him as well.

The two kept themselves occupied for hours listening to Bilbo’s and Gandalf’s tales of the Elves and other stories of battle and danger or when they were alone together, Frodo would read out loud. Sam closed his eyes as he liked to do when Frodo read, letting that beloved lilt wrap around him and send him off to far distant lands. Bilbo would check up on them often and sometimes see them like that, Sam with a dreamy smile on his face and Frodo with his hands wrapped around the volume, weaving a spell with his words and voice that transported him just as much as the listener. At those times, it seemed to Bilbo that Sam’s light glowed just as brightly as Frodo’s did and the two merged into one. He knew his lad was happiest when he shone like that and he only did in Bilbo’s own presence, Sam’s, Merry’s and now Pippin’s.

Frodo was sad to see Gandalf leave and gave him a very tight hug as well as he manage and profuse thanks for all the wizard had done for him. Even Sam waved in farewell. After he left, Sam read to Frodo. He hadn’t wanted to in front of the wizard since his diction and learning wasn’t up to the other two hobbits and his speech was more halting as he still stumbled over some words. But he didn’t mind doing it for Frodo alone for the tween was a most avid listener and always gentle in his corrections. Sometimes, Sam would hand his friend the book and Frodo would sound out the word that had stumped the lad. Sam repeated it slowly after him before continuing on with the tale. At the end, Frodo would always praise his effort and Sam beamed and blushed. Other times they worked on learning Sindarin and spent much time writing out their own tales.

Sam also made sure Frodo had plenty of rest, napping with him as often as not, just so the tween was never alone.

* * *

“Who’s your favorite Elf, Sam?” Frodo asked his friend one morning.

Sam didn’t hesitate. “You, Mr. Frodo.”

The tween laughed softly. “Me? But that was just make-believe, my Sam. I’m not really an Elf!”

“You would be if you weren’t a hobbit,” the child said very solemnly.

Frodo held back another laugh when he said how serious his brother was. “Why do you say that, Sam?”

“Because you’re all lit up like Mr. Bilbo says they are. You’re so beautiful, Mr. Frodo. That’s why.”

Frodo was touched by the child’s words and squeezed his hand. “Just like you are, Sam, with all your cheer and friendship.”

The child blushed. “I ain’t fair, begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo. I’m plain as plain.”

“No, you aren’t. I don’t know if I’m much to look at, but you are beautiful to me, Sam, just like Merry is, so full of energy and love. And Pippin is already the same. Dear me, I think he has more energy than all four of us combined! I’ll have to make sure I’m in better shape when they come out for Yule.”

“You will be, Mr. Frodo.”

Frodo squeezed Sam’s hand again. “Thanks to you and Bilbo. I’m lucky, Sam. I’m so lucky.”

“So am I, Mr. Frodo,” the child said.

When Bilbo came in later, he found them napping, their hands still clasped, their heads resting against the headboard and each other. He withdrew quietly. He knew his lad couldn’t be in better hands.

A/N: Treatment for Frodo’s ankle is primarily from Prescription for Natural Healing. Willowbark tea for pain I read about in one of Larner’s stories. Don’t try this at home though unless you know it’s okay!