Author notes: In “The Rings of Evendim”, my most recent “Quarantined”-verse story, Frodo remained in the Shire after Bilbo sailed West. It was revealed that when the One Ring was destroyed, the powers of the three Elven rings did not dissipate all at once, as predicted, but began to fade in much the same way Elves do… as a gradual process. Before they sailed, Gandalf, Elrond, and Galadriel agreed that the power of their rings had already diminished too greatly to be of use to any Elf or Maia, but that mortals might still benefit from their subtle energies. In the story, Frodo’s healing was aided by Vilya, which was given to him by Elrond. He later gifted Vilya to King Elessar. Gandalf bequeathed Narya to Pippin, and Merry was given Nenya... but he felt that Gimli would most appreciate the Lady's ring.  Gimli’s later labors in the Glittering Caves were enhanced by its use.

Although the Professor states that Dwarves traveled from Erebor to aid in the restoration of Gondor and Rohan in the Fourth Age, this story presumes that Dwarves from the Blue Mountains, west of the Shire, also came south for this reason.

This story is set in S.R. 1456, 20 years after the events in “The Rings of Evendim”.

Chapter 1 – A Queen's Regret

“I wonder we don't see nothing of the Lord and Lady in all these days.  I fancy now that she could do some wonderful things, if she had a mind.  I'd dearly love to see some Elf-magic, Mr. Frodo!”  ‘The Mirror of Galadriel’, The Fellowship of the Ring

Young Pilin, one of the newly-appointed pages of the King, ran swiftly through the market, heedless of the shopkeepers who called out to him to slow down lest he upset one of the carts.  Like the arrow for which he was named, he sped unerringly to where he had been told the King would be found – at the site of the large, sunken garden the Dwarves had begun excavating in the Fifth Circle.

He rounded the last corner and spotted the King, consulting with Lord Gimli. The Dwarf, whose beard was full of sparkling dust from a piece of ornamental stone he was crafting, was gesturing with one hand while effortlessly holding in the other an enormous hammer.

“A message from the Queen, my liege!” the boy gasped, coming to a halt before his sovereign. 

Elessar turned to the boy. “Catch your breath, lad,” he said kindly. “What words do you bring from my Lady?”

“The wagons from the north that arrived this morning have brought packages and letters from the Shire,” the boy told him. “They have been delivered to the Queen, who asks that you and Lord Gimli join her for the noon meal.”

The King smiled happily. “We will gladly do so. Thank you, Pilin.”

Every time the boy heard the King speak his name, Pilin's eyes glowed with joy. Many were the tales sung or spoken of the War of the Ring, and he never forgot his great fortune to have been born in this Age of peace, serving a king who cared for every subject equally.

“Here, lad,” Aragorn said, handing the boy a coin from a pouch at his waist. “Bearing messages, especially at the speed at which you do so, is hungry work. After you relay my response to the Queen, you may stop for second breakfast before returning to your post.”

“Thank you, Sire,” Pilin grinned, looking forward to a visit to The Ithil Inn. Every child enjoyed hearing stories about hobbits and their love of meals, and introducing the concept of ‘second breakfast’ to the City was one of the many ways King Elessar honored their traditions. 

He bowed low to the King, then to Gimli, before racing back towards the Citadel.

“You spoil those lads, Aragorn,” Gimli said with a chuckle.

“Perhaps,” Elessar said. “But pages like Pilin, who work hard and take their duties quite seriously, should be encouraged. I can scarcely let the lad starve.”

“Hah!” Gimli chortled, tossing aside the hammer and shaking out his beard. “The day someone goes hungry in your kingdom, I’ll wake up with the furred feet of a hobbit.”

Elessar instinctively glanced down at Gimli’s boots, wondering idly what Dwarf feet did look like, before clapping his friend on the shoulder.

“Come, let us return to the Citadel.  I look forward to seeing what our friends have sent us! I’ve grown quite fond of receiving gifts for their birthdays; Sam’s was just last month, I believe.”

“Parcels are arriving much more quickly now that the roads have been seen to,” Gimli said approvingly. “My journey north with my kinfolk should be a smooth one.”

“The way is not short, but every mile will bring you closer to our dear friends in the Shire,” Elessar said wistfully. “I envy you your visit with them, Gimli. Never again will I see that fair land, save from afar in the Seeing Stone. But you will be my eyes and my emissary, and bring the hobbits as many gifts as your cart can bear.”

“They know you love them, Aragorn,” Gimli said quietly. “There is no greater gift.”

*~*~*~*~*

When Elessar and Gimli strode into the small dining chamber favored by Arwen, they found her standing at one of the broad, west-facing windows which afforded such a striking view of Mount Mindolluin. She was turned away from them, holding the pages of what appeared to be a letter. Nearby, the lid of a large crate had been pried open to reveal a number of parcels of various sizes, all carefully padded to prevent breakage. When Arwen turned towards them, the smile on her husband’s face died when he saw her troubled look. His heart clenched with fear as he strode to her side.

“What is it, beloved?” he asked, gazing down at the pages in her hand. “Is is Frodo? Has he--”

“Oh Estel, forgive me,” Arwen said, instantly perceiving the source of his distress. “Frodo is well. All of our friends are well. I did not mean to frighten you.”

Elessar sighed with relief as Arwen embraced him, drawing comfort, as always, from her touch. Someday, he knew, news from the Shire would bear sad tidings, but… not now. Not yet.

Gimli stood in the doorway, and the Queen gestured him forward.

“Come in, Gimli,” she said warmly. “Everything is all right. Let us dine, after which you and Estel can both read Sam’s letter. He sends greetings for you, as well.”

“I will join you after I wash my hands and brush out my beard, Lady,” Gimli said, eyeing with delight the table laden with food. “And if there is any of that fine ale about the place, I will thank you!”

*~*~*~*~*

Luncheon finished, Elessar sat reading quietly. He reached the last page of the letter Sam had sent, full of news of the Shire, Bag End, Frodo, and the many children of whom he and Rose were very proud. He looked up at Gimli with a smile.

“Take this letter with you to your chamber when you leave,” he said. “Reading it will bring you pleasure.  The hobbits are greatly anticipating your visit, my friend.” He turned to Arwen. “What did you read that caused you distress?”

“You will think me silly,” Arwen said, a bit embarrassed. “The third page, here. Read this part again.”

Elessar read, out loud this time, the passage to which she was pointing.

You asked to hear more about Frodo-lad, and whether it’s been hard on him to grow up with Frodo’s name. You needn't worry as he seems quite proud of it, and that’s a fact. You last saw him when you visited the lake, when he was but 13, and with all the excitement of the Ice Men and their big dogs, and Elanor being honored by Queen Arwen and all, you may not have been able to spend much time getting to know him.

He’s a remarkable lad – well, ‘lad’ in name only now, as he comes of age this summer! – and different from his brothers and sisters. He’s grown to be quiet and serious-like, never one to tattle or tell secrets when trusted with them. He took to book learning like Frodo and Mr. Bilbo did, and has read over and over the tale of our adventures. In particular, he can never hear enough about what I’ve always called Elvish magic, if Queen Arwen will forgive that expression.  He asks endless questions I can scarcely answer about swords that glow, trees that shine of their own light, and especially Lady Galadriel’s star-glass, which absolutely fascinates him every time Frodo lets him hold it. He’s spent many hours trying to figure out how anyone could capture the light of a star in that glass, and a few years ago he even set in one of our gardens a basin such as the Lady had that she called her Mirror. Now don’t think by what I’m saying that Frodo-lad’s lost in fantasy thoughts or neglects his chores, or isn’t the kindest and most considerate child two parents could ask for. It’s just that I think he finds the Shire rather lacking in the magic he reads about, and wishes he could do something about it. Can you imagine a hobbit thinking about things like that?

He’s been seeing a good deal of a charming lass named Hollyhock Burrows, and if things go as we think they might, another wedding could be coming up in a year or so. Gimli will meet her when he visits. The children are so excited that Uncle Gimli’s coming! I wrote him to prepare to be surrounded by pups everywhere he goes, as they’re as numerous on the Row as dragon gold in a hoard. Every single one can be traced back to dear Scamp, who I know you remember with great fondness.  We'll try to keep them all out of Gimli's room so he can get some rest after his long trip...

Elessar stopped reading and looked up to see Gimli grinning, but when he glanced at his wife, Arwen had that same pensive look as when they had first seen her at the window.

“I sense no ill news here,” Elessar said.  “Help me to understand what troubles you.”

“It is a wonderful letter, full of happiness and a father’s pride in his children,” Arwen agreed, “and yet... it strikes me how much more I could have learned from Grandmother during all my years living in her realm. Would it not have been a wonderful thing for us to gift young Frodo with a phial of starlight of his own? He seems to desire one so.  I regret that I have not the skill to craft such a thing.”

Elessar frowned. “I would not have you feel discontented, my love. Your gifts are more numerous than I could name. Remember that Galadriel learned wisdom and lore during her time with Melian, one of the Maiar, and bore the Elven Ring of Water in its full potency to aid in her endeavors.”

“I know,” Arwen said. “Still, I mourn all that is now lost, both knowledge and skill. The Age of Men is upon us, and the Elves remaining on these shores are so few. ‘Elvish magic’, as dear Samwise would say, may indeed be something his children will never know, save for a bright radiance in a crystal phial, the making of which they – and I – know nothing.”

Elessar took her hand. “As we have honored Sam’s Elanor greatly, so should we ensure that young Frodo is not overlooked. Gimli will take our gifts to him, Arwen, and even if they are not ‘magical’, as he might wish, they will be royal indeed, and he – and his future bride – will know the esteem the King and Queen hold for him.” He was glad to finally see a smile on her face.

Gimli had been sitting quietly, listening to all that had been said. Mention of the Lady, whose ring sat now upon his finger, set him to contemplating his new underground realm and the many unlooked-for marvels that had been achieved there. Even Aragorn did not yet know about some of them. Over the past years, he had painstakingly uncovered secrets to several areas of craft long thought lost -- aided, he was certain, by the influence of the ring coupled with his untiring efforts and fierce dedication to bringing beauty and pride to his own people.

It may be true, as Arwen fears, that the vistas of the Elves are shrinking, he thought, but the potential of my people is indeed bright. The age of Men is upon us, but few realize that the age of the Dwarves has been rekindled. Young Dwarves travel great distances to visit Aglarond, and, as in the old days, apprenticeships seeking training in Dwarvish craft are highly sought after. An idea suddenly occurred to him, one that no other Dwarf would ever consider. We rarely reveal our secrets to those of another race, but Sam relates that his son can be entrusted with one. Perhaps a small one. Perhaps enough to bring a bit of wonder into the life of a worthy hobbit.

Making up his mind, Gimli got to his feet and addressed the King and Queen.

“There is nothing I would not do for Sam and his family,” Gimli said firmly. “Nothing. Mourn no longer, my Lady. When I travel to the Shire, I will bring with me something that will delight young Frodo Gamgee, and hopefully satisfy his intense longing for what the hobbits think of as magic. Perhaps it will even delight his future bride, and generations of hobbits yet to come.” He met Arwen’s gaze, and an understanding passed between them.

“Thank you, Gimli,” Arwen said softly. “I deem it is not by chance that you were in the City when this letter arrived. Whatever you have in mind, I am comforted.”

“What do you have in mind?” Elessar asked curiously.

“A little something,” Gimli said with a smile. “I must think more upon it. But speaking of a little something, are you ever going to open those parcels? If Rosie has sent more of her marvelous pickles, they should be sampled by someone of discerning and judicious taste.”

** TBC ** 

CAPTURING A STAR

Chapter 2:  Bag End

“You want to get married, and yet you want to live with me in Bag End too?  But my dear Sam, how easy!  Get married as soon as you can, and then move in with Rosie.  There’s room enough in Bag End for as big a family as you could wish for.”  ‘The Grey Havens’, The Return of the King

Although the trip north by horse-driven cart had been a long one, the well-maintained roads and frequent inns, as well as the friendly company along the way of travellers, Rangers, messengers, and merchants, made the journey much less tedious than Gimli had feared.  When he and his fellow Dwarves finally reached Sarn Ford, where the Brandywine River cut through the vast grasslands south of the Shire, it was time for his friends and kin to leave the road and head west, along a little-used path, to their homes and families in the southern spur of the Blue Mountains.  Standing in a circle, the Dwarves bid Gimli farewell with murmured blessings in their own tongue, and Gimli responded in kind -- with a grateful heart for their company and fellowship.  When they left, he stood watching them until the last of their carts rounded a far hillock and disappeared.  Then he looked to the north, smiled, and began the final push towards the Shire.

It was early evening when Gimli approached the border.  It was easy to spot due to a row of flags flying, clusters of guest-houses, several stables, open-air kitchens, and a large group of hobbits on ponies.  He heard a shout, a clear horn-blast rent the air, then the assembled hobbits were galloping towards him across the meadow, shouting greetings and waving feathered hats.  Gimli noticed that they rode quite expertly – a skill he had given up learning (without regret) years earlier.

The horn sounded again, and the mounted hobbits brought their ponies to a crisp halt in an orderly line.  Two of the riders, significantly larger than their companions, rode forward to within yards of his cart.

“Halt, and state your business!” one of them shouted sternly.

“My business?” Gimli bellowed.  “Peregrin Took, if you do not at once escort me to the nearest barrel of ale, of a fine vintage, mind you, and a meal worthy of a Dwarf who’s ridden a long distance to gaze upon the impudent faces of dear friends, I will turn this cart around this instant!”

“Rude as always,” said the other hobbit casually.  An intricately-wrought horn hung on a cord about his neck.  “Terrible example for Sam’s children, don’t you think?”

“We’ll just have to feed him,” Pippin responded.  “Works wonders with the Rangers.” 

The well-remembered Tookland accent was sweet in his ears, and all at once Gimli began to chuckle. Pippin grinned at him.  “We’re not letting you continue on to Hobbiton until you’ve spent a few days with us at the Great Smials, Master Dwarf.  Frodo and Sam will have you all to themselves at Bag End for weeks and weeks, and it’s just not fair, is it, Merry?”

“Not fair at all,” Merry said, his eyes suddenly glinting with tears.  “Oh Gimli, how we’ve missed you!”

Gimli clambered down from the cart as Pippin and Merry rushed to embrace him, and for many minutes there was nothing but laughter and tears and three old friends all speaking at once.

“You wooly-footed truants!” Gimli cried out at last, wiping his eyes with his beard.  Several of the mounted hobbits gasped, never having heard the Thain and the Master addressed in such a fashion.  “Neither of you has changed a bit... save perhaps for a bit more padding.”  Gimli patted Merry’s and Pippin’s ample middles.

“Diamond’s cooking,” Pippin said happily.

“And Estella’s,” Merry said smugly.  He called several hobbits over, and gave them instructions for tending to Gimli’s horse and where to bring the cart.  “Come, Gimli, your supper awaits!  I promise that your steed will be fed and housed as well as you.  I’m sure he has much to tell our Shire ponies of your adventures on the road.”

Gimli turned to pat Bellas and speak words of praise to him, to which the horse responded with a companionable huff into the Dwarf’s ear  “We’ll head up to the Smials tomorrow, after you’ve rested,” Pippin said, “and we’ll send a messenger to Bag End to let Frodo and Sam know you’ve arrived safely.”

“Excellent,” Gimli said in great contentment.  “And now, take me to this feast, my hobbits!  There is much for me to tell you, and an equal amount for you to tell!”

At that, the Thain and the Master proudly escorted Gimli -- Elf- and King’s-friend, Lord of Aglarond -- through the border and into their beloved Shire, laughing and talking the whole way.  Behind them slowly rode a respectful company of hobbits, eyes a-sparkle with all the news they would have to share with their families this night.

*~*~*~*~*

It had been 20 years since Gimli had visited Bag End, and as he drove his cart up The Hill (as the hobbits called it), the well-ordered Row and luxuriant gardens filled him with peace.  Pippin had sent word ahead so that the day of his arrival would be anticipated, but he had not expected that anyone would be outside to greet him.  It was nearly luncheon time, after all, so no doubt Rosie and the children were preparing the noon meal.  His stomach rumbled at the thought.  He wondered how many of Sam’s children still lived at home; he knew that Elanor had married, and several of the older boys were serving apprenticeships elsewhere in the Shire.

As he drove his cart to the familiar green door, he thought he could hear a muffled barking.  Then the round door opened, a small herd of pups emerged, and he heard someone laughing.  Before he could register Frodo Baggins standing in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear, he needed to hastily rein in his horse so that Bellas would not step on any of the enthusiastic little creatures.

“Don’t let them go far, Uncle Frodo!” came a female voice, and a number of hobbit lasses ran outside.  One of them caught up a gold-colored pup in her arms.  “Thorin, you have my ribbon! What did I tell you about taking things that aren’t yours?  Oh, it’s Uncle Gimli!”

Gimli stared at the offending hound in amazement.  “Thorin”, like the others, was just a tiny snip of a thing.  Although a green ribbon did, indeed, dangle from his mouth, he appeared to be totally unrepentant.

Frodo came to the cart, his eyes aglow with amusement.  “Gimli, welcome back to Bag End.”  He motioned to the girls.  “Rose-lass here was a big girl of 11 when you last visited.  Goldilocks, Daisy, and Primrose were very young, and this is Ruby, who hadn’t yet been born.”

“I remember you, Uncle Gimli,” said Goldilocks.

“So do I,” insisted Ruby.

“No you don’t!” said Goldilocks.

“Yes, I--”

“Girls,” Frodo said mildly, at which point both lasses looked contrite.

Primrose was on tiptoe, trying to peek inside the cart which was heaped with baggage and tied parcels.  “Ma, Dad, everyone, Uncle Gimli’s here!” she shouted towards the open door.

“Mind your manners, Prim,” Rose-lass admonished her sister.  “How do we welcome guests?” She gave a small curtsey, as did the others.  “Lunch will be ready soon, Uncle Gimli.”  She reached up to stroke the horse’s nose, then ushered her giggling sisters and the pups back inside.

The Dwarf sighed and climbed down from the cart.

“Frodo Baggins,” he said, “At the border of your land I was met by galloping ponies, and at Bag End I am met by galloping dogs.  There weren’t nearly this many the last time I was here.” 

“You’re right,” Frodo said.  “Sam and Rosie relaxed their restrictions once the children were old enough to take care of them on their own.  Your welcoming committee today was Thorin, Balin, Dwalin, Bofur, and Rowan, five exuberant but quite sweet pups.  Our mama dog , Dora, can usually be found enjoying her leisure in a warm corner of the kitchen, her favorite room.” He cleared his throat.  “I regret to inform you that there is one more pup in residence, and he is a handful.  Frodo-lad named him Glóin.”

“Hmmph.” Gimli could barely hide a smile.  “Impertinent hobbits.”

“Gimli,” Frodo murmured, his eyes moist.  He embraced the Dwarf, and felt strong arms enclose him.  “I’m so glad to see you.”

“I am very glad to see you as well, lad,” Gimli said quietly.  “You’re looking just fine.”  He peered over Frodo’s shoulder to where Sam and Rose Gamgee stood together in the doorway, watching the scene with warm smiles.  “As are you, Samwise.”

Sam walked quickly to Gimli, and he, too, was drawn into the Dwarf’s arms.  When they parted, Gimli’s eyes were as wet as the hobbits’.

“Welcome to our home, Gimli,” Rosie said, her heart warmed by the joyous reunion.

“Mistress Rose,” Gimli said with a bow, “I am honored.  My memory did not deceive me; your beauty rivals that of the Queen.”

“She’s a queen indeed,” Sam said lovingly to his blushing wife.

Gimli looked carefully at his friends, his heart eased by what he saw.  As he had noticed with Merry and Pippin, the years seemed to sit but lightly upon them.  He wondered if the Lady’s gift to this land - the precious earth of Lórien which Sam had distributed and nurtured throughout the Shire – had brought this unlooked-for blessing.  If so, here was magic indeed -- although perhaps of a subtle sort that young Frodo-lad would not recognize.

And there in the doorway, with his brothers Bilbo, Robin, and Tom crowded behind him, stood the hobbit about whom Gimli had been thinking.  Sam’s eldest son was taller than both his parents, with golden-brown hair, and in his arms he held the sixth pup, red-furred and wriggling.  The younger boys came forward to greet Gimli, but Frodo-lad held back a bit.

“Come closer, Frodo-lad,” Gimli said.  “I suppose that handsome creature is my esteemed father’s namesake?”

The boy hesitantly brought the pup to meet him.  “I hope you don’t mind, Uncle Gimli.  We meant no disrespect.”  He gazed at the Dwarf in wonder.  “You remember me!”

“Of course,” Gimli assured him.  “Who could forget the lad who caught the largest fish in Lake Evendim?”

“That’s right!”  Frodo-lad said, laughing in boyish excitement.

“Gimli, come in and get settled,” Rosie said.  She leveled a pointed look at the younger boys. “No one will bother your cart.”

“We’ll make sure your horse is tended to,” Frodo-lad said to Gimli, feeling less shy.  “We don’t see too many in the Shire.  He seems a nice one.”

“He is Bellas, a noble and good steed,” Gimli said.  He helped the boys unfasten the harnesses, then drew Frodo-lad aside for a moment.  “The King and Queen send their respects.  We have much to discuss, you and I.”

“Do we?” the boy asked in surprise.

“Oh yes,” Gimli said with a chuckle.  “We do, indeed.”

** TBC **

CAPTURING A STAR

Chapter 3: The Grotto

The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill – The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it – and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage.

‘An Unexpected Party’, The Hobbit

As Frodo-lad and Bilbo led Bellas away to be brushed, and stabled with their ponies, Gimli retrieved his satchel of personal belongings from the cart. Frodo, Rosie, and Sam escorted him inside, where a burst of excited chatter could be heard from the direction of the kitchen -- accompanied by a loud clattering of dishes. Rosie headed determinedly in that direction while Frodo and Sam showed Gimli to their best guestroom.

“Make yourself at home, and take your time,” Sam told him. “The children won’t starve if lunch is a bit late... although you’d never know it from the clamor at mealtimes.”

Gimli chuckled. “I’ll be along as soon as I change, and wash off some of this travel dust.”

Once he was alone, he unpacked a few things before cleaning himself in an adjoining, and well-stocked, bathing room where water was conveniently pumped in. Then he changed his tunic, replaced his heavy boots with a lighter pair, and – most importantly – brushed out his beard and ensured that each braid was in order.

On his way to the dining room, Gimli passed many large and small chambers on each side of the wide passage that ran the length of Bag End. Many of the rooms used by Bilbo Baggins for wardrobes and storage had long since been converted into bedrooms for the children. Two dining areas had also been expanded into one large one, and the kitchen and pantries enlarged. Bag End, although much smaller and less complex than the Tooks’ ancestral Great Smials, was nonetheless spacious, comfortable, and full of light from the many windows set into the south side of the hole.

Up ahead, he saw two of the pups disappearing into the dining room. Being hobbity dogs, he (correctly) assumed that the rest were eagerly assembled and awaiting their fair share of the lunch.

The room was quickly filling up with hobbit lads and lasses when Gimli walked in. He didn’t argue when Rosie steered him to the head of the long table, a guest’s honored place, with Sam on one side of him and Frodo on the other. The table was set for 13, a number that made him smile. Young Robin, surrounded by pups all wagging their tails, was setting down a number of bowls filled with meat scraps.

“That’s Dora, Uncle Gimli,” Ruby said, pointing to the largest (and relatively calmest) dog. “She’s the mama.”

As Gimli was sitting down, Bilbo and Frodo-lad rushed in, relieved that they hadn’t missed anything.

“We brushed Bellas as far up as we could reach, Uncle Gimli,” Bilbo said, “and there’s plenty to eat and fresh water. He’s rather grand, isn’t he? Do you think he’ll mind sharing quarters with ponies?”

“Not at all, lad,” Gimli assured him. “He’ll be glad of both the company and sweet Shire grain in his belly.”

For a few minutes the room was awhirl with hobbit lasses wheeling in cunning carts from the kitchen. They set the food up and down the table, took their seats and looked expectantly towards their father.

Sam smiled at everyone, then raised his glass to Gimli.

“Our dear friend, please consider Bag End your home for as long as you are with us. We’ll try to keep the children quiet, the pups out from underfoot, and your every day one of peace and joy.”

Frodo raised his glass as well, looking as contented as anyone Gimli had ever seen. What a large and loving family he had found!

“Gimli, we can’t tell you how happy we are to have you here,” Frodo said. “We appreciate you travelling so far to see us.”

The children all cheered.

“Bag End is rather empty just now,” Sam said seriously, motioning to a few empty chairs. “Merry, Pippin, and Hamfast are off apprenticing; we hear good things about all of them. Elanor just had her first little one, named Elfstan. We visited with them just last month.”

“Elfstan, eh?” Gimli said. “An unusual name for a hobbit.”

Everyone was occupied for a few minutes as the bowls and platters were passed around. When Frodo offered him a dish of sliced pickles, Gimli accepted with enthusiasm.

“Rosie, I’m sure the King and Queen have written that your pickles are as valued in the Citadel as Silmarils,” he said to her with a grin. “I suspect they could be used for currency, should Aragorn be willing to part with any – which he is not.”

Rosie smiled happily. “I have a new batch in crocks in the second pantry. I’m pleased they’re appreciated!”

Gimli noticed that Frodo-lad perked up when he heard the word ‘Silmarils’. Indeed, Sam had written that the boy was a scholar of their tale, and was particularly fascinated by the Lady’s star-glass.

Before he dug into the mountain of delicious foods on his plate, Gimli raised his own glass.

“My friends, I am delighted to be here, and welcomed so warmly. I brought gifts for all--” The younger children whooped with excitement. “And Frodo-lad, congratulations on your coming-of-age. The King and Queen send their greetings as well.”

Frodo-lad beamed, and a few of the children clapped.

“Sam and Rosie, all of your children are a credit to you. May your family be ever blessed.”

There were more cheers, then everyone settled in for some serious eating.

Gimli, tucking into roasted chicken, garden vegetables, fresh bread, warm, chunky applesauce, pickles, and something called ‘potato salad’, wondered how Sam and Rosie managed to feed this multitude every day. This was no palace feast, it was a normal luncheon at Bag End!

“Sam,” he said, “Your larder must need reprovisioning daily! Forgive my curiosity, but however do you manage?”

“Rosie and I would never have dared try for so many children if we couldn’t manage it, Gimli,” Sam assured his friend. “Mr. Bilbo gave me a bit of his dragon treasure before we left Rivendell, and he brought Frodo what he had left before sailing off with Gandalf and the Elves. And then Frodo insisted on sharing his income from rents and all, and Strider and Lady Arwen sent word that we both had earned a ‘stipend’ for ‘services rendered’ or some such... well, you’ve no need to worry, Gimli. We’ve been blessed indeed, and no mistake.”

“I am relieved, and delighted,” Gimli announced, helping himself to a third portion of potato salad. “This is new to me, and absolutely delicious.”

“Thank you, Gimli,” Rose said. “I’ll make sure you take the recipe home with you.”

There seemed no end to all the things Frodo, Gimli, and Sam needed to share with one another over lunch. After awhile, the three friends realized that the room had quieted and they were nearly alone. One by one, the children had cleared away empty dishes, gone off to do chores, or visit with friends. Only Frodo-lad remained behind, unable to tear himself away from hearing news of far-off places.

“Gimli, you might not know that Frodo-lad’s practically taken over the gardens,” Sam said, smiling proudly at his son. “He’s learned everything my gaffer and I ever knew, and then some.”

“I love it, Dad, and you know that Tom and Bilbo help out a lot,” Frodo-lad insisted. “Growing food for the table, and having enough left over to sell or trade... what could be more satisfying?”

“I always felt the same way, my boy,” Sam said.

“Uncle Gimli, do you want to see the gardens?” Frodo-lad asked hopefully.

“I certainly do,” Gimli said, getting to his feet. “First, though, perhaps you can help me bring everything in from the cart.”

“Enjoy your afternoon, Gimli,” Sam called after them as Frodo-lad and Gimli left the room. “Tea is at four!”

“My goodness.” Gimli shook his head in admiration as he patted his full belly. “Hobbits really are remarkable, as Gandalf said.”

“I wish I’d met Gandalf,” Frodo-lad sighed. “I wish I’d met everyone Uncle Frodo and Dad and old Bilbo wrote about.”

He and Gimli went outside and worked together to empty the cart of its parcels and bundles, then stack them in the parlor. There was one small crate Gimli opened at once, using a tool from his belt. Within it, wrapped in thick padding, was another, even smaller crate, surrounded on all sides by thick padding. He opened that as well, retrieved a well-wrapped bundle, and carried it carefully back to his room. The boy was obviously intensely curious about what the Dwarf had brought with him, but asked no questions -- something Gimli noted with satisfaction.

Frodo-lad showed Gimli around the many lush gardens; vegetables, fruit trees, and flowers grew in abundance, but in a well-planned and quite eye-pleasing way.

“You have an artistic sense, my boy,” Gimli said with admiration. “Almost Dwarvish, and that’s quite the compliment.”

“Thank you,” Frodo-lad said happily. It was gratifying to have the subtleties of his efforts noticed by their guest. “Come, I’ll show you something special.” He brought the Dwarf through the gardens and along one of the beautifully-manicured paths that swept up and around Bag End. Then down they went from the sunlit path, descending a series of carved steps leading into a gully behind The Hill. The quiet, wooded area was cool and shaded.

“Here it is,” Frodo-lad said, steering Gimli around a large tree. “Dad and Frodo said it looks a lot like the place where the Lady’s mirror stands. What do you think?”

Gimli looked around the small grotto, complete with a clear pool fed by a tiny spring that Frodo-lad had dug out. Set into the ground was a pedestal about waist-high, upon which rested a polished stone bowl filled with water. Gimli looked up. Sure enough, a large circle of sky was open to the west, unhindered by any of the encircling trees. In the evening, Eärendil’s bright star would be clearly visible.

“I never saw the Lady’s mirror myself,” he told the boy, “that honor was reserved for your father and Frodo alone. This is a lovely place, though, and I’m sure they guided you well in creating it.” He examined the bowl. “This is quite well made. Where did you get it?”

“Dwarves came through last year with some wonderful things for sale. Dad said that since I was nearly of age, I could do my own negotiating,” Frodo-lad said proudly. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Gimli nodded in agreement. That the bowl was of Dwarvish origin had been immediately obvious to him. Its simple shape could not disguise the expert craft that went into its carving.

“I like it here,” Frodo-lad said, gazing around him. “I like to think about the Lady and what she was like... still is like, that is.” He sighed. “I know it will sound silly, but I’ve tried to... capture starlight here like she did for Uncle Frodo. Can you imagine how wonderful that would be? Uncle Frodo even let me bring his star-glass to see if the basin could hold onto that light, but it doesn’t work at all.”

“I do wish you could have met the Lady, my boy,” Gimli said. “Her powers and wisdom shone as brightly as her beauty and compassion. She lives in my heart, always.” He nodded to himself, convinced that he had made the right decision. It was no small thing, to reveal a Dwarvish secret.

“The Lady’s gifts were well given, and what your Uncle Frodo and father accomplished are beyond all praise,” he said quietly. “You may know that they were named Elf-friends, which Legolas son of Thranduil tells me is quite an honor.”

“I know,” Frodo-lad nodded.

“But there are two things you do not know,” Gimli said. “To be named a Dwarf-friend is an equal honor, and a rare one at that.”

“Is it?” Frodo-lad asked eagerly. “What’s the second thing, Uncle Gimli?”

Gimli leaned closer to the boy, and spoke in a hushed tone.

“There is more than one way to capture a star.”

** TBC **

CAPTURING A STAR

Chapter 4: Dwarf-friend

"Come now!" [Legolas] said. "Time wears on, and the mists are blowing away, or would if you strange folk did not wreathe yourselves in smoke." 'Flotsam and Jetsam', The Two Towers

That evening, Frodo, Sam, and Gimli brought their pipes and sat together on one of the benches outside Bag End. Dora lay snoozing at Frodo's feet, Thorin and Bofur were sniffing about in the garden, and Gimli sat petting Glóin, the red-furred pup of whom he was growing quite fond.

After a few minutes of companionable silence, Gimli cleared his throat, took a deep draw on his pipe, and blew a series of excellent smoke rings.

"Nicely done!" Frodo said with a laugh. "I remember the contests you and Merry used to have."

"And I remember how far away Legolas would stay when you did," Sam said.

"Aye, that's right," Gimli said, smiling at the memory. "He misses you both very much. He'll be along to visit one of these days."

"We miss him too," Frodo said. "There are now so few Elves in Middle-earth, and even fewer who come through the Shire. I'm glad at least some of the children were able to meet Arwen at Lake Evendim."

"That reminds me, the greater part of my luggage is gifts she and Aragorn sent," Gimli said. "With your permission, Sam, I'll give them out tomorrow after breakfast."

"Better make it second breakfast," Sam advised. "The morning chores will be finished by then."

"Second breakfast, then" Gimli grinned. "By the time I left Bag End last time, my belt was on the last loop. Your letter mentioned that Frodo-lad is courting a certain Hollyhock Burrows; I hope she's a good cook!"

"She is, and will be even better with Rosie teaching her!" Sam said with a glad smile. "She's a lovely and clever lass, good-hearted and full of laughter. There's more than one young hobbit who had hoped to court her, but Frodo-lad was smart enough to swoop in first."

"He certainly is smart," Gimli agreed. "I've been quite impressed with him. You have no second thoughts about what I brought him?"

Sam shook his head. "None, my friend. Rosie and I talked it over after your letter came."

"You won't get in trouble, will you, Gimli?" Frodo asked anxiously. "With your fellow Dwarves, I mean. Gandalf said something about all the secrets your folk keep."

"We do indeed, Frodo, and for good reason," Gimli said, "but I have broken with more than one tradition in my time, and may break – or at least bend – a few more before Mahal calls me to his Halls."

"May that time be long in coming," Frodo said fervently.

"And may you and Samwise continue to be well, and as long-lived as any Dwarf," Gimli responded.  "We three have been through a great deal in our lives, haven't we? And now here we sit, with your Shire safe and my people engaged in great new works."

Frodo closed his eyes for a moment, overcome with gratitude. The Shire safe, that's all I ever wanted, he thought. And for Sam to be back home and happy, Bilbo's heart to be at peace, and Aragorn with everything he deserves after all he's done. And now here we sit, and it's all come to pass.

Opening his eyes, he saw that Gimli was puffing contentedly on his pipe.  He glanced at Sam, his eyes suddenly alight with mischief.

"Let's show Gimli what we've been working on, Sam. Dwarves may be engaged in great new works, but so are hobbits, don't you think?"

Sam grinned and nodded, and blew a ring of smoke. He then reached out and snapped his fingers over it in just the right place, collapsing the top of the ring down into a heart shape. Then he did it twice more. While Gimli was applauding this trick, Frodo blew a large ring, then three smaller, faster ones that chased each other through the center of the first. Sam countered by blowing two rings at once, and Frodo finished with a billowing dragon-smoke effect.

"I must learn those!" Gimli declared. "The next time I need to settle a bet with Aragorn or Ḗomer, I'll finally have something new to show them!"

*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, after second breakfast, Gimli bade all the children stay gathered around. To their excited squeals and cries of excitement, he brought armfuls of bags, boxes, and wrapped packages into the room, and piled them on the table in front of him. The family had received parcels from Gondor before, but this time the King and Queen had outdone themselves.

For the girls, there were satin ribbons dyed in unusual and lovely colors, rings set with tiny sea-pearls or opals or garnets, and scented waters and soaps. For the boys, there were beautifully-tooled belts, and hobbit-sized, Elvish-made arrows they couldn't wait to try out with their bows.  One box contained small carved boats, and a family of wooden horses with real manes and tails.

While the children were exclaiming over their gifts, Gimli pulled out a clear crystal globe set into a polished wooden base and handed it to Frodo. It was filled with water and a miniature range of mountains, upon which animals, trees, and clear lakes could be seen.

"Move it about," Gimli urged, and as Frodo used both hands to gently shake the globe, a shower of silvery snow swirled about, settling on the mountains and causing the lakes to glitter.

"How beautiful!" Rosie said admiringly.  She reached out to touch it.

"It is that," Sam agreed.  He turned the globe upside-down and then upright, unleashing a new flurry of sparkling snow.   "Let’s keep it right here on the mantle."

"For you, Rosie," Gimli said, pulling out a number of small bags of spices from the South that were greatly valued in the Shire - cinnamon and cloves and nutmeg - and lengths of soft, silken fabrics. Rose's eyes glowed with pleasure.

For Frodo and Sam there were belts bearing the Royal Crest, and Gimli had also brought them something crafted by his own apprentice – a prism of clear crystal, precisely cut and shaped.

"Take it near one of the windows, Sam," Gimli said, and everyone cried out in surprise when rainbows of color shot forth from the crystal, reflecting onto walls and faces.

Upending one parcel, Gimli piled a mountain of wrapped sweets onto the table, then passed around small, cunningly-made hinged boxes that could be used to hold jewelry, handkerchiefs, or other small treasures. With a grin, he untied one bulky bag, which had been stuffed full of small treats just for the pups - baked, he told them, in the Royal Kitchens. The rustling of the bag and enticing smells of nut butters, honey, and yams brought all the dogs clustering around excitedly, and each got a biscuit to scamper off and enjoy.

Finally, Gimli presented to Frodo-lad two special gifts to celebrate his coming-of-age. The King had commissioned for him a matched set of silver buttons for a waistcoat or cloak, into which the image of the White Tree had been impressed. Frodo-lad touched them gently, his eyes glowing with joy. But when he opened the second gift, a flat box covered in deep blue velvet, he gasped.

"From the Queen, with her compliments," Gimli said to him.  “For your future bride." He glanced at Sam and Rosie, who were beaming with joy for their son.

Frodo-lad carefully lifted from its case a delicate, shimmering net strung with gems.

"It can be clasped as a necklace, like so, or a lass might wear it in her hair," Gimli told him. "This net is not silver, as you might think, but threads of fine mithril. I doubt any hobbit will see its like again. But my boy, the King sends this message: 'Forget not to value and reverence your wife above all gems and treasures, as I do."

Frodo-lad looked up, his eyes full of tears. "I will," he whispered.

The other children were watching in awed silence; the only sounds that could be heard were the crunching of biscuits and the contented thumping of tails. Rose busied herself putting aside some of the gifts to be saved for the Gamgee lads who were apprenticing elsewhere, as well as for Elanor and Fastred when they next visited.

"There is one more thing, Frodo-lad," Gimli said. "Will you meet me in your grotto two nights hence, after Moonrise?"

"There's something else?" Frodo-lad asked, quite overwhelmed.

"Aye," Gimli said. "After all, it is not every day that the firstborn son of Samwise and Rose Gamgee comes of age." He unwrapped several sweets and popped them into his mouth, then produced a sheaf of letters. Frodo and Sam joyfully sorted through messages from Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir, Legolas, and many others, and were soon reading avidly.

Frodo-lad sat as if in a happy trance while, all about him, there were choruses of "Thank you, Uncle Gimli!" and "Can Dora have another biscuit?" and "You don't have to put all those sweets away for later, do you, Ma?"

*~*~*~*~*

Gimli said nothing more to Frodo-lad about their meeting, but two nights later, he was waiting in the grotto behind Bag End when the boy came soundlessly through the trees towards him. Eȁrendil's star shone brilliantly overhead, as the Dwarf had known it would be.

"Welcome, my boy," Gimli said when Frodo-lad reached him. "Your father reports that you are a scholar of our Quest, and have read your Uncle Frodo's account many times. Tell me, what know you of the craft used for the lettering on the West-door of Moria?"

Frodo-lad was startled at the unexpected question, but proud that he could answer. 

"Gandalf said that the writing was done in something called ithildin, but that he had to think a long time before he could remember the words that awakened it so that it could be read by either starlight or moonlight."

"Aye," Gimli said softly, "by starlight or moonlight." He pointed up, and Frodo-lad noticed for the first time the glittering star above them. He heard Gimli murmur something in a low voice, and when he looked back at the Dwarf, he gasped in amazement. The inside of the onyx basin was beginning to glow faintly. As he watched, his heart pounding with excitement, the glow grew brighter, and brighter still, until the light emanating from what he had wistfully called 'the Lady's mirror' was a brilliant silver-white, causing the water within it to sparkle like diamonds.

"As I said before," Gimli said quietly, "there is more than one way to capture a star."

"Uncle Gimli!" Frodo-lad said in great excitement. "Is that really ithildin? Did you put it in the bowl? How long will it last? Wherever did you get it? What did you say to it?"

"Hobbits and their questions," Gimli said in mock dismay.

"I'm sorry," Frodo-lad said contritely. "That's such a lovely thing. Thank you for such a wonderful gift."

"Ah, but there is more," Gimli said. He knelt to retrieve a small crock at his feet. He set it next to the basin and pried out the stopper. 

"Behold ithildin, my lad," Gimli said with a great satisfaction. "Or, I should say, ithildin as I have recreated it... something of a mithril-based paint." Frodo-lad suddenly noticed that there was a small paint-brush sticking out of the Dwarf's belt. "When we gathered at the West-door," the Dwarf continued, "I did not think to examine the lettering to see if it had been painted on, or made with the thinnest leaf, as a skilled craftsman can do with gold. In any event, as far as I know, the only ithildin that now exists to be used East of the Sea and possibly West as well, is my own."

Frodo-lad peered inside the crock.  "But mithril is a silver color," he said.  “This looks like plain water.”

"So it does," Gimli agreed.  “The properties of ithildin sleep until the two rare circumstances you mentioned converge - moonlight or starlight to reflect, and the touch of someone who speaks the words to awaken it.  After years of effort and many failures, I finally was able to bring mithril to this liquid state. But how to use it?  Gandalf sailed away to the West, taking the spell with him, and the ancient Elves are no longer here to consult." He gently touched Galadriel's ring on his finger. "And then one night I dreamed of the Lady, and when I awoke, the forgotten words were upon my lips. That which was known to the wizard, and to a small number of Elves long ago, is now known only to me. To the Dwarves does this secret now belong. Someday I will reveal the words to my apprentice."

Gimli paused, looking into Frodo-lad's eyes. "And you will learn them this night also, if you wish it." He stoppered the crock again, and handed it to the astonished hobbit.

"Will you take this gift, Frodo-lad Gamgee, Dwarf-friend and son of Samwise the Stouthearted? The words I will teach you will be for your ears alone. Ithildin is difficult to make, so it should be used and awakened only after much thought, and when your heart and vision speak as one. Do you agree to these things?"

Tears of joy slid down Frodo-lad's face as he nodded. "I agree," he whispered. Magic, he thought, real magic in the Shire. At last.

"Very well," Gimli said. "Listen carefully and I will teach you the words. Be grateful that they who first crafted ithildin were Elves, and not Dwarves. Ancient Elvish will be easier on a hobbit's throat than the language of my folk!" He chuckled, and Frodo-lad's joy suddenly spilled out in laughter of his own, a sound as bright and clear as the radiant star overhead.

** TBC *

CAPTURING A STAR

Chapter 5: Fireflies

"And you will read things out of the Red Book, and keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so that people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more."

'The Grey Havens', The Return of the King

Midsummer’s Day, S.R. 1457

The wedding of Frodo-lad Gamgee and Hollyhock Burrows was talked about for a long time, but not for the usual reasons hobbits reminisced about a grand celebration and boundless feast. Sam Gamgee read to the guests from a thick book about the coronation of King Elessar, who had labored long years in secret to protect the Shire from dangers coming from Outside, and he reminded everyone that it was Frodo Baggins who had been given the honor of bearing the king's crown in his own hands.  He then spoke about the very tree around which they were assembled, gifted to the Shire by the wise Elven Queen Galadriel, who had foreseen that healing and peace would return to the Shire if all who faced the Darkness with courage and determination remained true. But speaking about how the Shire was connected to Outside and how close the Danger had been was just Mayor Sam's way, and wasn't what all the talk was about.

Neither was it all about how lovely the bride looked in her shimmering silken gown, or Mayor Sam’s son, very handsome in a deep blue waistcoat with silver buttons. It wasn't about the shouts of laughter when a small herd of barking dogs came racing excitedly through the Party Field on the trail of several squirrels -- who raced up the mallorn and watched calmly from above as the dogs tried to find them. And although the guests had been asked to assemble at twilight under a sky of bright, twinkling stars, a most unusual time for a wedding, even that strange thing did not set tongues to wagging, no indeed.

The most astonishing thing happened right after Frodo Baggins, who was conducting the ceremony, asked the couple to speak their vows to one another.  Before speaking, the groom gently touched Hollyhock's hair, flowing long and dark under a silvery net. He then reached up to the canopy above them to pass his hand across the braided flowers his mother had woven together.  He even touched the small bouquet in his bride's hands, and the flower in his own lapel. With a smile at Hollyhock, he then bowed his head and whispered something that not even the guests in the very front row could hear. After a few moments, there was a gasp from the crowd as the gems in the bride's hair began to glitter all on their own, and the flowers started to glow, and the happy couple's faces shone with lights that seemed to dance all about them.

"Magic!" more than one hobbit murmured uneasily to those around them. "Is that wizard here?" asked others.  More than one person looked about to see if old Gandalf, who many of them remembered, was standing somewhere in the shadows. But no wizard appeared, nor was any explanation given, and the ceremony continued with the bride and groom’s simple vows.

Inspired by the King's words, Frodo-lad said to Hollyhock, "My dear wife, I promise to value and reverence you above all gems and treasures, for as long as we live." Hollyhock, weeping with joy and feeling herself to be the luckiest hobbit lass who ever lived, responded, "My dear husband, no magic will ever be needed to keep our hearts entwined in love, for as long as we live." And when they kissed beneath the stars, a soft radiance enveloped them that those who saw it would never forget.

So it was that Frodo-lad Gamgee and Hollyhock Burrows began their long and happy life together bathed in Elvish light and Dwarvish craft, wearing gifts bestowed by royalty, their intentions and vows heard and affirmed by the Ring-bearer, and blessed by their loving families whose happiness could scarcely be contained.

As the wedded couple left the canopy to welcome their guests to a feast and celebration that would last well into the night, in Minas Tirith the King and Queen of the Reunited Kingdoms sat together under those very stars, watching the beautiful ceremony in the palantír. With great joy, they clasped one another's hands and wished the couple a lifetime of love as deep as their own.

*~*~*~*~

At the same time, outside the entrance to his realm in the Glittering Caves, Gimli son of Glóin stood contently blowing intricate smoke rings. He watched with fond eyes as two large and exuberant pups sniffed their way around a grassy sward, already quite at home.  They had been a gift to Gimli from King Ḗomer in gratitude for all the glad news of the hobbits he had brought to the Golden Hall… not to mention a crate of Rose Gamgee’s delicious and much-valued preserved goods.

Gimli admitted to himself that ithildin should only be awakened under very special circumstances, and with serious intent.  He knew that, who better?  But... well, just this once, he couldn't help himself. It was with great amusement and delight that he watched Merry and Pippin race about, the only dogs East of the Sea (or West, for that matter) with tiny bells on their collars that shone with bright, silvery sparkles that flitted here and there like fireflies twinkling in an Elvish night.

** END **