7.  Homecoming

Frodo awakened some time later and looked about in confusion.  He had heard an unearthly howl, far in the distance.  It was quite dark, but there was a fire flickering merrily nearby.  He was wrapped in a soft, thick blanket . . . no, not a blanket.  It was the cloak given to him by one of the Fair Folk.  His memories were a bit muddled, but suddenly Frodo remembered where he was and how he had come here. 

The pain in his right arm had dulled to a steady throb, and he felt over the bandages that covered it wonderingly.  Mindful of his injuries, Frodo sat up carefully.  Looking across the small camp-fire in front of him, he saw that the dark-haired Elf was perched elegantly on a log at the edge of the flickering circle of firelight, gazing alertly out into the shadowy forest. 

Frodo turned to his other side and was startled to find the Man sleeping just behind him, no more than a step away.  There was no one else in the camp.  The other Elf must still be out looking for Bolo.  Frodo sighed and turned back to face the fire.  He certainly had no great fondness for his cousin, but Frodo was not a vindictive child, and he would not wish harm on another.  He hoped the Elf would come back soon, with his cousin safely in tow.

Staring into the flames, Frodo felt eyes upon him.  He looked up to find Elrohir watching him thoughtfully.

“Are you still in pain, little one?” the Elf inquired.

“I am well,” Frodo replied automatically. 

The Elf arched an eyebrow.  “Indeed?”

“Truly,” said Frodo.  “I am only wondering about Bolo and the other Elf.”  And he was not really lying; Frodo felt sore all over, but the pain was bearable now.

“Do not concern yourself, Frodo,” the Elf responded with a smile.  “My companion is swift of foot; he will find your kin, and they will be here soon.  In fact,” he paused, staring intently into the forest, “I believe they approach even now.”

Frodo peered in the same direction, but all he could see were dark trees.  The sky seemed to have lightened in the last few minutes, though.  It must be nearly dawn.

Elrohir rose smoothly to his feet and took a few steps toward the trees, calling something in a different language.  A reply came back immediately, sounding distant.  Frodo recognized the language as Elvish, and wished desperately that he could understand the beautiful words.  Bilbo had taught him a little, but Frodo knew only a few phrases so far.  Frodo barely noticed that the Man behind him had awakened and emerged from his bedroll. 

Soon enough, even Frodo could hear what sounded like two pairs of feet striding through the underbrush, one pair much more softly than the other.  When two figures finally emerged from the shadowy forest, Frodo stared at them from his position on the ground near the fire.  The fair Elf looked as calm and collected as when Frodo had seen him last night, but he was firmly gripping the upper arm of a white-faced, slack-jawed hobbit lad whom Frodo had known much longer.  Frodo was glad to see that Bolo still carried the small pouch that contained the herbs they had been sent out to collect, although the little hobbit-lantern that Bolo had run off with was nowhere in sight.

“Frodo?” gasped Bolo when his fearful gaze finally fell on his small cousin.  “You’re alive!”

“Indeed I am, Cousin,” Frodo replied indignantly.  He was too well bred to add, ‘no thanks to you,’ especially in front of strangers, but he could not forget how Bolo had abandoned him to danger the night before.  “These Big Folk have been very kind,” he said instead.

“Well met, Bolo Brandybuck,” said Elrohir politely, when Bolo finally noticed the other Elf.

“Come and have breakfast with us,” offered Estel.  “Then we shall take you both home.”

Bolo still seemed to be in shock at his first meeting with Big Folk, and he remained uncharacteristically quiet as Estel passed out some dried meat and fruit.  Bolo and Frodo did not eat as much as hobbit lads normally would, Bolo because he couldn’t stop staring at the weaponry worn by all three Big People, and Frodo because his wounds had started to bother him again now that he was moving around, and he could not concentrate properly on the food.

After everyone had eaten and packed up their possessions, Estel unwrapped Frodo from the huge cloak he had occupied all night to check his bandages.

“Well, Master Baggins,” the Man said finally.  “Your cuts have all closed, and no infection has set in.  You’ll need to get that arm plastered when you get home, but the splint should do for now.  We’ll use this bandage as a sling, I think.  It should be just the right size.”

“Thank you, sir,” Frodo said, as Estel tied the makeshift sling around the Hobbit’s neck and gently placed the injured arm within.  Frodo was starting to worry about the long walk home; every movement he made pulled at his closed cuts and made his bruises ache.

“Well, then,” said the Man, getting to his feet.  “Let’s be off.  Elrohir, will you be so good as to carry our young friend here?  I don’t want him moving overmuch and reopening those cuts.”

“Indeed I shall,” Elrohir replied.  He bent down and lifted Frodo easily, and the small group set off, with Bolo walking meekly in between Estel and Legolas.

*          *          *

They halted for a brief rest almost two hours later.  The day was clear and bright, with no trace of yesterday’s clouds and intermittent drizzle.  Frodo and Bolo were sitting side by side against a large stump at the edge of the path, while the Big Folk refilled their water flasks in a shallow brook running nearby.

“What happened to your arm, brat?” Bolo was evidently back to his usual surly self, as he usually was in the absence of adults.

“I fell out of a tree and broke it,” Frodo retorted.

“You’ve always been clumsy,” Bolo snorted.  “Must be the Baggins in you.”

“Well, maybe if you’d stayed around long enough to guide me down in the dark, like a good and loyal Brandybuck, then I wouldn’t have fallen,” Frodo replied, but his heart wasn’t in it.  After meeting two Elves and one Man, Bolo was starting to seem small and insignificant in comparison.

Before Bolo could work out that Frodo had insulted him, the Big Folk were coming back from the brook.

“We’ve picked up the Warg trail down by the brook, little Halflings,” said Estel when he saw them.  “They are only a few hours old, and they lead away from the Shire.  I’m afraid Elrohir and I must part company and continue the hunt.”

“I will accompany you the rest of the way home,” the fair Elf added.  “Come along now, little ones.  We’re no more than two hours away.”

The hobbits perked up at this news.  Frodo thanked the Man and the dark Elf for their kindness, and Estel presented a small gift in return.

“Take this, and be well,” the Man said, removing a small bag from his pack and offering it to Frodo.

Frodo accepted the gift and looked closely at the contents.  “White horehound!” he exclaimed, recognizing the final item on their list of herbs to find for Miss Celosia.  But when he looked up again, the two Big People were gone, and he was alone with Bolo and the fair Elf.

*          *          *

Several hours later, two hobbits and an Elf emerged from the woods near Brandy Hall.   Legolas was carrying Frodo, whom he laid gently in the grass.  He could see several Periannath working in fields nearby, but he did not wish to alarm the Little Folk by going any closer.

“Now then, Bolo,” said the Elf.  “Run into the smial and bring out Frodo’s parents.”

“Frodo hasn’t got any parents!”  Bolo blurted out.  Frodo looked away.

“I see,” said Legolas tactfully.  “Then please go inside and summon any adult for me to speak with.”

Bolo took off at once, glad to be away from the frightening Big Person and his irksome little cousin.  Legolas waited patiently with Frodo, neither of them speaking.  Frodo was absorbed in trying to imagine what his relatives would think.  He was already reckoned to be a mischievous lad because of all the scrapes he seemed to get into, but this had to be the strangest yet. 

Presently, a small party of Periannath, led by Bolo, emerged from Brandy Hall and hurried over, looking with amazement at the fair and dignified Elf sitting beside Frodo.

“Frodo-lad!” exclaimed Saradoc, coming forward to cup Frodo’s face in his hands.  “Where have you been?  I came to see you this morning and found your bed hadn’t been slept in, and we realized you were missing along with Bolo!”

“Good day, sir,” said Legolas smoothly.  “My companions and I found the two young ones lost deep in the forest last night.”

“You have my gratitude, sir,” replied Saradoc, finally turning to the Elf with a formal bow.  “We are all in your debt for returning them to us.”

Legolas inclined his head in acknowledgement, and quickly explained Frodo’s injuries to Saradoc.  The adult hobbit listened attentively, but they were interrupted by a shrill exclamation.

“Oh, my darling Bolo!” cried Bolo’s mother, Pyrimidine, as she emerged from Brandy Hall after the others.  “Thank you, thank you, Master Elf, for returning my precious child!  I was beside myself when you didn’t come home last night!  My dearest Bolokins, did that odd child get you in trouble again?”  Here she paused to glare at Frodo.

Frodo grimaced.  His Aunt Pyrimidine’s endless fawning over her son never failed to make Frodo gag, and somehow she always managed to blame Frodo for all Bolo’s faults.  Frodo was sure that Bolo himself had something to do with this.  Legolas glanced down at the dark-haired child beside him.

“Madam,” said Legolas, rising gracefully to his feet.  “You are most welcome.  However, I feel I am honour-bound to relate to you the tale of your son’s conduct last night.”

Bolo suddenly averted his eyes, but the Elf’s commanding presence caught everyone else’s attention. 

“When my companions and I found young Frodo, he had just fallen from a tree; he was alone and injured,” began Legolas solemnly.  “We soon discovered that this unfortunate circumstance was the result of young Bolo running off when they believed themselves to be in danger, refusing to help his cousin out of the tree.”  The Elf frowned in disapproval.  “No Elven warrior would ever be guilty of such a cowardly act, and I hope you will take measures to correct the little one’s morals before they become too deeply ingrained.”

The listening hobbits were appalled.  Even among the peace-loving Shirefolk, it was extremely dishonourable to abandon one’s kin, especially a child, to dangerous circumstances.  Bolo had begun to edge away while Legolas was talking, but Saradoc halted him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you again, Master Elf,” Saradoc said grimly.  “I promise you, the boy will be dealt with.”

Legolas nodded in approval.  He retained his stern countenance, but when Legolas glanced at Frodo, the lad saw the Elf’s eyes twinkle with merriment.  Frodo blinked, not certain he’d interpreted the dignified Elf’s expression correctly.  Frodo suddenly recalled that he was still wrapped in a huge cloak that did not belong to him, and he began fumbling to remove it.  Legolas immediately bent down to assist him, and his long, clever fingers made quick work of the ties.  A hobbit lady came forward to wrap the child in her bright yellow shawl, and Legolas donned his cloak.

“I will take my leave, then,” Legolas said to the assembled Periannath, satisfied that Frodo would be cared for.  “Farewell!”

Frodo found himself being gently picked up by Uncle Merimac, but he had thought of something he wanted to say to the Elf.

“Master Elf!” the small Hobbit called out.  Legolas turned to look back at Frodo, arching an eyebrow inquiringly. 

Frodo took a deep breath.  “Elen sila lumenn’ omentielvo!” he said in a clear voice, being careful of the pronunciation.  It was the only complete sentence in the high-elven speech that he had mastered.

Legolas smiled when he heard the child’s words, and bowed deeply in reply.  Frodo watched the mysterious elf vanish silently into the forest, feeling awed and humbled to know that he had spoken to one of that wise, immortal race in their own ancient tongue.

“What did you say, lad?” asked Merimac curiously, turning back to carry Frodo into Brandy Hall.

“It means ‘A star shines on the hour of our meeting,’” Frodo replied with a joyful smile.