DISCLAIMER:  Of course. The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

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ELEMENTARY, MY DEAR GANDALF

Chapter 1 --- Identified

“I’m looking forward to the fireworks, Gandalf,” said Aragorn teasingly, keeping his voice low.  “They are legendary.”

The wizard chuckled.  “There are few mortals alive who now remember them; hopefully tonight’s display will not tarnish my reputation.”

Aragorn moved deeper into the shadow cast by a large tree on the outskirts of the field where the hobbits’ elaborate party was taking place.  He had arrived, unseen, at Gandalf’s behest, and was enjoying the sight of the little folk enjoying themselves so much.

“My men labor unknown and unthanked so that the Shirefolk can celebrate in peace,” sighed Aragorn.  “But surely you did not ask me to come here so that I might gaze longingly on a party I can enjoy only from the shadows.”

“No,” said Gandalf.  “I thought to test your powers of observation and deduction.  Your Dúnedain have safeguarded the Shire well, Aragorn, as you have done whenever your path leads you north.”  The Ranger nodded.  “But you have never been this far into the heart of the Shire, nor observed its inhabitants so closely as this.  Hobbiton is a very special place --- made so by a very special individual.”  Gandalf motioned to the spry, well-dressed hobbit who, it was apparent to Aragorn, was the centerpiece of the celebration.

“That is Bilbo Baggins,” said Gandalf, “a very old friend of mine, and a truly unique hobbit.  Well…” The wizard hesitated, then smiled.  “… almost unique.”

“As usual, my friend, you speak in riddles,” said Aragorn, “although I have heard tales here and there of Bilbo Baggins.  He was your traveling companion many years ago, and returned to the Shire with treasure from both dragon and troll.  I have also heard Elrond speak of him.”  The Ranger frowned.  “He must be older than he looks.”

“Indeed he is,” agreed Gandalf.  “Bilbo has traveled farther, and accomplished more, than any hobbit in many a long year; as I said, quite unusual among these Shire-bound hobbits.  He consorts with Elves and Dwarves; he is quite the scholar, and draws maps with great skill.  I have begun to realize,” the wizard continued,  “that Bilbo’s adopted son and heir, Frodo Baggins, shows signs of being just as unique.  Frodo’s parents died when he was 12, and he came to live with Bilbo some years ago.  He comes of age tonight, and into his inheritance.  Like the Shire itself, he bears watching; and after tonight, what he bears will bear watching.”  The wizard smiled at his own joke.

“Gandalf---”

“Forgive me, Aragorn.  The absurdities of life are endlessly fascinating to me.”  Gandalf gestured to the milling, laughing, somewhat inebriated crowd.  “Point out Frodo Baggins to me.”

“Point out…” Aragorn frowned.  “Gandalf, there are hundreds of hobbits at this party.”

“You are a skilled tracker, my friend, possibly the most skilled anywhere; you are trained to observe and deduce from scant clues.”  The wizard gazed at the Ranger calmly.  “I have given you enough clues to solve this mystery.”

“All right,”  Aragorn grinned.  “I accept the challenge.”  He let his eyes roam over the merrymakers, thinking about everything Gandalf had said.  The boy comes of age tonight --- just barely an adult, then… orphaned young… Bilbo Baggins’ heir… unique…

Some time passed in silence, and the wizard waited patiently as the Ranger’s keen eyes scanned the crowd and made his deductions.

“There,” Aragorn said finally, pointing to a young hobbit seated at a table.  “There he is.”

Gandalf pursed his lips, neither affirming nor denying the Ranger’s choice.

“Explain.”

“After discarding as candidates the children, the ladies, anyone obviously married, or far too old…”

“Yes?”

“Any heir of the legendary and fabulously wealthy Bilbo Baggins would be well dressed,” murmured Aragorn, staring at his chosen hobbit.  “Well dressed, well educated…”

“Go on.”

“That youngster is the right age, and is richly attired,” continued the Ranger.  “Although having as good a time as his friends, his eyes occasionally seek out Bilbo, as if reassuring himself that he is still here.  Perhaps it is an orphan’s insecurity, or perhaps something else.”  Aragorn was enjoying the game.  “He is drinking far less than almost anyone else --- he is not quite at ease with such ribaldry; living alone with a scholarly bachelor would ill-prepare him for such as this.”

Gandalf smiled in admiration.  “Anything else?”

“You said he was unique.  Although I doubt you are referring to his looks, that is a striking-looking lad.”  Aragorn looked at the wizard.  “Am I near the mark?”

The wizard clapped his friend on the shoulder.  “Excellent, Aragorn.  You have chosen correctly.”

The Ranger looked at his friend shrewdly.  “There is more beneath the surface here than you let on; you say that what young Frodo bears will bear watching?”

“Perhaps,” murmured the wizard, gazing thoughtfully at Bilbo.  “I may know more after tonight.”

“Keep your secrets, then,” said Aragorn with a grin.  “However, if I am to remain in the shadows, waiting as eagerly as the hobbits to see your fireworks, perhaps you could bring me an ale.”

“I will do so,” laughed Gandalf, “and perhaps a plateful of something…” He surveyed the scene before him. “… if there is anything left to bring you.”

“The hobbits do consume an alarming amount of food,” said Aragorn, shaking his head.  “I doubt that Frodo Baggins will remain this slender for much longer!”

“Hobbits can be quite surprising and unexpected, my friend,” Gandalf mused.  “Anything is possible with them.  Anything at all.”

** TBC **

ELEMENTARY, MY DEAR GANDALF

Chapter 2 --- Observed

I have traveled far and seen much, often with little to trust but my senses and instincts, but now I don’t know what to trust anymore --- surely not my own eyes.  Bilbo Baggins has vanished without a trace.  Absolutely vanished.  I know of no race or creature in Middle-earth that has achieved this art, nor does any tale hint of it.  What has happened?

I long to question Gandalf, but the wizard has vanished as well --- or more accurately, the instant Bilbo disappeared he strode off briskly, without a word to me, and was soon out of sight around a curve of trees.  If he had asked, I would have eagerly accompanied him, but I have known him long enough to sense that he didn’t want me to come --- he wanted me to stay.  And so I continue to observe, and deduce, and try without success to quell this feeling of unease.

What did Bilbo Baggins find in that dragon hoard?  What device or enchantment can explain this?  How can the Shire, of all places, be the heart of such a mystery?

For the most part, the assembled hobbitry is in an uproar, clamoring for an explanation.  (The children, after the initial squeals, have apparently forgotten that anything at all has happened, and are happily darting back and forth among the benches and tables, snatching bits of food and shrieking joyfully at jokes or games.)  The band resumed playing almost at once, and some adult and many young hobbits, shaking their heads at what they apparently accept as well within their eccentric neighbor’s bag of tricks, have resumed eating, drinking, and enjoying the party with or without its guest of honor.

And Frodo Baggins is… the boy, surrounded by his friends, appears still to be frozen in shock.  Mere seconds after Bilbo’s disappearance, a mug of mostly untasted ale slowly fell from his hand and crashed to the ground, unnoticed.   He hadn’t known, then.  He hadn’t been watching Bilbo, on and off all evening, because he suspected a magical occurrence.  A young hobbit sitting next to him, with golden curls and an earnest, concerned face, is talking to him, but Frodo doesn’t seem to hear him; he keeps looking from where he last saw his vanished relative, to the path that Gandalf took.

I find myself thinking back to what the wizard said to me earlier --- “I may know more after tonight.”  He suspected that something would happen, then.  Perhaps he even had a hand in it.  But to young Frodo --- this has been startling and upsetting.  Is he suddenly feeling as a 12-year-old orphan again, believing himself to be unexpectedly abandoned once more?

And why --- this I wonder most of all --- why did Gandalf really ask me to be here tonight?  Is there something he wanted me to see?  Or not see, I think wryly.  It was important to him that I identify this youngster --- that I observe him and perhaps recognize him in some other place, at some other time.

Frodo is besieged now, by angry relations demanding explanations.  I sense they don’t truly care where Bilbo has gone, or why --- they need to be reassured that the Shire hides nothing unnatural or unexpected.  Life is good here, and perhaps they are wise to try to protect their homeland from things they can neither control nor understand.  The shock is wearing off, and now the boy is acquitting himself well; he speaks in a quiet, calm voice, assuring them that everything will no doubt be cleared up in time.  As the Shirefolk reckon things, today he comes of age --- but it is in these moments that he has truly become an adult.

Several of his companions have come to quietly to stand at his side, lending their silent support.  He has true friends, then.  And although I do not know what lies ahead for this lad, my instincts tell me he will need them.

** TBC **

ELEMENTARY, MY DEAR GANDALF

Chapter 3 -- Recognized

I may be the only one who has noticed Samwise hiding in the bushes --- observing, and watching everything from the shadows, as did I at that innocent party that seems a lifetime ago.  No, wait --- Gandalf sees him too, I can tell.  He winks at me and says nothing.

Why is Sam here?  Surely he cannot imagine that any harm can come to Frodo at this Council.  Perhaps he fears that Frodo is not yet fully recovered from his ordeal --- and who can blame him?  Frodo survived by mere hours, Elrond tells me, and may never be fully healed.  Here in Rivendell he can take his ease, at last able to rest and relinquish his burden.  Elrond will nurture him until he is well enough to return to the Shire.  Best of all, he is reunited with his beloved and long-absent relative.  This little one has done well --- no one can ask more of him.

Wait… somehow an argument has broken out.  Frodo seems to be unaware of the raised voices and commotion that now surrounds him; the Ring has him mesmerized, but whatever he sees or hears, it is for him alone.

What is this dissention?  Why does Elrond allow it to continue?

“I will take the Ring.”

Silence.  No one can believe their ears.

I have felt awe but seldom in my life --- when Bilbo Baggins vanished before my eyes, I felt it --- and now, Frodo Baggins volunteers to bear the One Ring into Mordor.

Gandalf steps forward --- to gently dissuade Frodo from an impossible task?  No --- to stand with him.  Stars above, this little one will need an army to stand with him.  Does he know how far it is to Mordor?  Does he realize that the Nazgûl are not dead, but will continue to hunt him?  After all he has been through… I shake my head.  Who, better than he, knows what he has been through?  And yet his resolve appears firm, although he is trembling.  I am humbled by such courage.  Gandalf’s hand goes to his small shoulder, squeezes gently.

And so, what began as a game between Gandalf and myself --- to identify one hobbit at a party of hundreds --- is a game no longer.  He asked me to pick Frodo out of a crowd --- to recognize him.  At last, I do.  We all do.

So much has befallen this young hobbit I watched having fun at what now may turn out to be the last party he ever attends.  Now it is the Enemy that observes him from the Shadows, and the Dark Lord seeks to draw all that is good into the Shadows as well.  But we who watch --- Samwise, myself, and others too, I suspect --- we will die before allowing Frodo to be lost.  Such courage, such spirit.  The Shadow will never take this one while we draw breath.

If a Man pledges his word, and his life, to another, let death alone keep him from his duty.  You do not ask it of me, Frodo Baggins, but I pledge you my word.  Perhaps the skills I have spent a lifetime learning will aid you in some way.  If you will have me, I, too, will stand with you.

And yet I cannot stand.  I am drawn forward, and drop to my knees.

If by my life or death I can save you, I will.

** END **