In honour of the Baggins birthday.

22nd Halimath, 1430 SR

Rose had cooked Frodo's favourite dishes for second breakfast - mushrooms, fried potatoes and bacon, followed by toast and the bitter orange jam which she had made with fruit sent from Gondor. She pottered round the kitchen, warming plates, fetching cutlery and feeding the younger children. Little Sooty was safely shut in Frodo's bedroom during meal preparation but Rufus sat on the small wooden settle in the corner, washing his paws and watching her carefully.

       Sam, Frodo and the threee older children arrived back from the stables, having mucked out the ponies and collected the eggs on the way back. The dozen brightly coloured hens were now out in the small paddock, scratching around and clucking contentedly.

       "Happy birthday, Frodo dear!" Rose kissed his cheek. "I've made all your favourites."

       There was a pile of packages next to Frodo's plate. When he had lived with dear old Bilbo the two byrdings had always exchanged gifts at second breakfast, but the mountain of brightly-wrapped gifts on the kitchen table reminded him that he was now part of a very large and loving family. He blinked back tears of joy as the loving warmth of the Gamgees enveloped him completely.

       "Open something, Uncle Fwo!" cried Rosie-lass impatiently, dancing up and down.

       "Open mine!" begged Frodo-lad.

       "Uncle Fro will eat breakfast first, or it will congeal and be horrible!" Rose declared, placing a heaped plate before him.

       "That's decided then. We all have to listen to your Mum, don't we?" He turned to face West, hand on heart, then sat and began to eat.

       For a time there was little talk, as everyone ate eagerly. Baby Pip munched a large jam sandwich - raspberry jem being his current favourit - and Merry-lad used a spoon because his mother had cut his food for him.

       "Please open something, Uncle Fro," said Ellie at last, and everyone laughed. The Gamgee children were not noted for their patience, perticularly where the opening of presents was concerned.

       Frodo lifted several packages but the children shook their heads until he came to one very square one. It was surprisingly heavy.

       "Open that one!"

       "Now who is this from?" He read the label, which was written in a square, almost runic hand, and said To Frodo Baggins, the hobbit I am honoured to call my friend. I think this will please you and whenever you use it, remember your friend Gimli with affection. He opened the box and lifted out an exquisite silver inkstand. It had wells for four different coloured inks, a pen holder, a drawer with several very fine silver nibs and another draw for a pen wiper. It was topped with a small, beautifully-wrought figure of a seated cat.

       "Oh my! This is magnificent! Gimli must have gone to such a lot of trouble making this."

       "But it isn't trouble if you're doing something for a dear friend. It gave him great joy to make this, I'll be bound," said Rose, smiling.

       "Quite right!" added Sam. "As you'll see when I show you my present."

       He opened the other parcels to reveal all sorts of things - a new cravat in dark gold silk from Rose, writing paper from the children, a book of dwarven history from Gloin and the Dwarves of Erebor. a pen wiper from the Sandymans, a set of handkerchieves from May and her family, shirts from Widow Rumble and a small box of morels from Rufus and Sooty.

       Sam led Frodo outside to a part of the garden which he had been keeping secret for months. Frodo gasped. He was looking at a recreation of Lady Celebrian's forest garden in Rivendell, with young silver birch saplings - another gift, this time from Legolas - and a sea of tiny cyclamen flowers nodding gently in the soft breeze. Sam had also planted snowdrops, crocuses and bluebells to provide constant delight throughout the Spring. In one corner, close to the small stream, was a carved bench, made from a piece of the old Party Tree.

       "Oh Sam! This is so beautiful! You really are the dearest friend anyone could have. How long did this take you? You've worked so hard changing this part of the garden."

      "And I loved every minute of it because I was doing it for you. It was a labour of love, m'dear."

       "I can come here and and just revel in the peace and quiet. This is wonderful - my own secret place!" Frodo was gleeful and thrilled. He wrapped his arms round Sam and hugged him fiercely.

       "Thank you, my dearest brother."

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       After lunch the guests arrived. Tooks, Cottons, everyone from New Row and a good many friends from Hobbiton and Bywater all trooped into the Party Field, where Frodo handed out his gifts. There was much eating, dancing and laughter. The Sandyman family seemed happy to be there, Tully Noakes sat with Will Whitfoot and Farmer Cotton, the pipeweed jar between them.

       Frodo thoroughly enjoyed his birthday. As the children grew sleepy and some of the guests reluctantly departed he strolled to the mallorn and sat down with his back to the trunk. He rubbed his fingers gently against the silver bark and suddenly he was aware of a grove of mallorns. An old, grey haired hobbit was laughing and raising a tankard. Beside him was a tall figure in glowing white robes, holding a much larger tankard, two tall and graceful women, one with golden hair and one with hair like mithril silver, and a dark-haired Elf. He could hear beautiful singing and the mallorns swayed above the little group, joining their song with the Elves.

       "Happy birthday, Bilbo," he whispered, and a voice in his ear, dear and familiar, whispered back.

       "Happy birthday, my dearest lad."