A Celestial Conversation Caught in Passing

            “I’m not certain why you called me here, Námo.  I mean, this isn’t my time, after all.  For me to be called annually to bring presents to children all over the world so many centuries after my proper death and internment is difficult enough.  But to be called to this time millennia before I was even born?  I ask you!”

            The Vala of the Final Healing gave a decided sigh.  “I understand, Niklaus my friend.  But we are trying to understand a particular child, and why he is not behaving well or as would ordinarily be expected.  He has parents that are attentive and care for him well.  But he is utterly disrespectful toward others, and particularly toward others who are smaller or weaker than himself.  You understand children so well.  So, if you could please advise us regarding this child….”

            Námo gestured toward Varda’s Window, and it lit upon a Hobbit child with an especially sullen expression, sitting atop the hill in which his parents’ home was dug, watching with manifest discontent reflected in his eyes a group of children playing roopie in an adjacent field.  He was tall and well made, and the clothes he wore were finely crafted, indicating that his parents saw to it that he made a good impression on the people about him. 

            Niklaus asked, “Why is he not playing with the other children?”

            Beyond the Window could be heard the echo of a voice.  “Lotho, where are you, dearling?  Mummy has something for you, pet.”

            The lad in the Window turned his head to the side, obviously put out to be interrupted.  After a moment in which he was clearly reluctant to respond, he finally called out, “Coming, Mother!” He rose slowly, and indolently descended from the hilltop to meet with his mother at the back door to his smial.  “Here I am, Mother.”

            She smiled and held out a garment to him.  “Here, my love—I have had that cloak I told you of made for you.  Ah, but what a figure you will display wearing it!  None of the other children in Hobbiton or the Southfarthing will have anything as fine.”

            The lad took it, shook it out, and carefully examined it, turning it slowly to scan both outside and inside.  “Is this wool from the Green Hills country?”

            “It is indeed—the best wool in the whole of the Shire.  You shall be the envy of all your little friends.”

            Both mother and son smirked as he swung it about his shoulders and fastened the knot that held it closed.  Niklaus gave a gesture that froze the picture on the identical expressions on the face of mother and child. 

            “The case is simple enough, Námo.  This child is too deeply indulged, but not loved enough.  Giving him things rather than guidance and loving attention is not enough to make him happy or friendly toward others.  You will note she did not ask him the question I asked as to why he wasn’t playing with the children with their sticks and balls in the field.  No, she’s not encouraging him to be part of the game, but is instead finding ways to make him appear superior to the other children in the area.  What else do you expect of a child who is spoiled but not taught ways to make friends?  Who  instead is told he is to be envied and is better than everyone else.”

            So saying Niklaus made another gesture, and the Window shifted to other places throughout this region of Middle Earth, and settled upon a different child, one with a superficial resemblance to the lad with the new cloak but whose expression was utterly different.  He sat on a bench within a garden, holding a baby in his arms, singing to the infant, then bringing it up to blow upon its belly, causing the bairn to giggle.  “There, Merry-mine, a blow on your tummy.  Would you like me to do it again?”

            The baby smiled and watched expectantly as the older lad lifted it up again to loudly blow upon its stomach.  Both children were obviously happy to be together.

            “Oh, but here the two of you are!  Are you enjoying yourselves, Frodo, Merry?  I thought you both might enjoy a drink.  Give me my son and enjoy the apple juice, Frodo, and then we’ll go out to watch the menfolk working with the young ponies.”  The baby’s mother carried a handled mug that she presented to the older lad before taking Merry into her own arms.  “It is about time for your feeding, young sir,” she said to the baby, draping a cloth over her shoulder to allow the bairn to suckle with some privacy.  “How wonderful the day is, isn’t it, Frodo?  And has Merry behaved well for you?”

            “He started to fuss once, but was distracted when I blew upon his tummy.  Did I like to have someone blow on mine when I was a baby, Aunt Esme?”

            “Oh, yes, and especially when it was your dad.  How he loved you, Frodo Baggins.  And guess who just arrived and will be out in a moment?”

            “Oh, but is it Bilbo?”
            “Yes indeed, and he’s brought you a new cloak, too.”

            “Why do I need a new cloak?  It’s summer, after all!  But I can’t wait to see Bilbo.  Will I be allowed to walk to Kingsbridge with him?  Or cross the river on the ferry?”

            “Most likely both.  Perhaps you’d best go change so you look nice while you’re out walking.’

            “Oh, but I don’t care if my lad should be wearing Hall cloth,” said a new voice as an older Hobbit entered the garden.  “Although I would admit I prefer to see Frodo in clothes befitting a Baggins, nevertheless he is my beloved boy no matter how he dresses.”

            “We’re to go watch Uncle Sara and Mac working with the younger ponies when Merry’s done feeding,” Frodo explained.  “I don’t need to dress up for that, do I?  And may we go out for a walk afterwards?  I’ll promise to look my best for that, if you wish.  Oh, Bilbo, how very glad I am to see you again!”  He hurried to hug his beloved relative as warmly as he could.

            Niklaus again gestured to freeze the image, nodding as he looked upon this child with marked approval.  “Now, this one is a good child, one who knows that he is loved and is able to love in return.  Things don’t matter more to him than the people he loves.  If you are considering any child for a special task when he is older, I would see this one as a far better candidate than the first child you showed me.”

            “How odd that you should fix on this child even as has my beloved Vairë,” Námo commented.  “Thank you, Nicklaus, for agreeing with my beloved consort.  Shall I see you back to your own place again, then?”

            “Vairë is already weaving him a special place in the future?”  Niklaus’s expression had become serious.  “It is a great blessing, I know.  But such blessings tend to come at a great cost, or such has been my experience.  May I see the tapestry she is working on now before we go?”

            “If you so wish, and if she allows us to see the work while it is yet in progress.  Come this way, then.”  With that, Námo led his friend back into the Halls of Mandos to visit the workshop where the Weaver of Fates wrought her tapestries.