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Dreamflower's Mathoms II  by Dreamflower

 [AUTHOR’S NOTE: This story takes place in my “Eucatastrophe AU” in S.R. 1452. In this AU, the Three Elven Rings did not fade after the destruction of the One, but instead were freed, and gained even more power. Frodo was able to find healing and remain in Middle-earth, and Gandalf and the Elves were allowed to make return journeys to Middle-earth. (I know, I know…if only…)*

In this story, Frodo, at the age of 83, has retired to Minas Anor, where he hopes to finish his definitive book on the languages of Men and Elves. Merry’s son Peridoc, Pippin’s son Faramir, and two of Sam’s sons--Merry-lad and Pippin-lad--have accompanied him, for they are to spend two years studying at the Court of the High King. The four lads live with their Uncle Frodo and Gandalf in the same guesthouse where the Fellowship stayed after the War. This story takes place at the beginning of their second year.]

Frodo: 84 (about 53 in Man-years)
Fam (Faramir) Took: 22 ( 14 in Man-years)
Perry (Peridoc) Brandybuck: 27 (17 in Man-years)
Merry-lad Gamgee: 25 (16 in Man-years)
Pippin-lad Gamgee: 23 ( 14½ in Man-years)]

EUCATASTROPHE: BILL


“Psst…Pip-lad--is Uncle Frodo in there?”

“No, Fam; neither is Gandalf.” Pippin Gamgee scurried back to the door, where his friend, Faramir Took, and brother, Merry-lad waited.

“Hurry up! One of them might come home any minute.”

“It’s all right,” said Fam. “Perry is watching for them.”

“Well, hurry up anyway. We need to get this done before they get home.”

“They were going to the archives this morning. They shouldn’t be home before time for luncheon,” said Merry-lad.

There was a scuffling sound, and the three young hobbits entered the house with a sigh of relief, and looked at their prize.

Which looked back at them out of liquid brown eyes, tongue lolling, as it thumped its tail.

“Where are we going to hide him?” asked Pip-lad.

“Our room?” asked Merry-lad, as he absently scratched the shaggy white head. Sitting, the dog’s head was nearly at a level with his shoulders. It was an amiable mongrel, mostly dirty white, but with one brown ear and a small brown marking on its back.

Just then the door opened, and all three lads jumped. “Oh, it’s you,” Fam sighed with relief. It was only Peridoc, his Brandybuck cousin.

“No one’s coming,” Perry said. “But we’d better get him out of sight.”

“I’m going to get him something to eat,” said Pip-lad, and headed for the kitchen.

“Do you think Uncle Frodo and Gandalf will let us keep him?” Fam asked as they led their furry guest down the short corridor to the large chamber the lads shared.

“I don’t know,” said Perry. “Da once said that Uncle Frodo didn’t much like big dogs, ever since Farmer Maggot’s dogs chased him a long time ago.”

Fam nodded. “I was afraid of that. They chased us, though, and we’re not afraid any more.”

Perry shuddered, remembering that long ago encounter. “We were for a long time though.”

“Do you think,” asked Merry-lad doubtfully “that we’ll be able to hide him for long? I think he needs a bath.” He sniffed. There was definitely a doggy aroma.

Perry-lad sighed. This was getting complicated. It was just that when the lads had gone down to the fourth circle, to their favourite bakery, they had seen some boys tormenting the dog, poking at it with sticks. The four of them had gone quickly to the rescue--disconcerting the boys, who though larger, knew immediately who the lads were. They were the only pheriannath in the White City after all, except for their Uncle the famous Frodo of the Nine Fingers. Everyone knew that they were under the king’s protection, and even more, they were under the protection of the wizard Mithrandir. No one with any sense at all would confront them.

Perry had stood to the fore, and glared at them. Abashed, the boys had abandoned their cruel game, and slunk off sheepishly.

The dog had grinned at them, and wagged its tail, and put one huge paw up on Perry’s shoulder. Only his quick reflexes kept him from getting a sloppy wet tongue on his face. Fam had distracted it by offering it a sweet-bun they had still left. The bun had disappeared in an instant.

Then the lads had started up the street for home--the old guest-house in the sixth circle, which they shared with their Uncle Frodo and Gandalf. But they had not gone more than ten paces before they realized they were being followed.

And somehow, they hadn’t the heart to send it away…

Pippin-lad came in the room then, bearing a leg of lamb he had purloined from the larder. He had chosen it with regret--he was very fond of lamb, and this would have made a lovely supper--but it seemed the best thing there for a dog the size of--of

“Bill!” he said, as they watched the dog eat their lovely lamb.

“Bill?” asked Fam.

“Yes!” said Merry-lad, who knew what his brother meant. “He’s as big as a pony, so we should name him ‘Bill’ after ‘Bill the Pony’!”

“That’s perfect!” said Fam and Perry at the same time.

“Well,” said Merry-lad, “I think we should try to clean him up.” The four lads looked at the dog doubtfully.

Bill grinned at them, and then playfully put its head down, and its tail in the air, and gave a surprisingly small bark considering its size.

Nearly two hours later, every towel in the guesthouse had been used. It had taken buckets and buckets of water and half a bar of soap, and all four of the lads together--all of whom had been drenched from head to toe.

Now Bill was more or less clean, and the young hobbits were clean and more or less dry, though the curls on heads and feet were still more than a little damp. And so was the stone floor of their sleeping chamber, although it was no longer swimming in water. The hobbit-high pile of wet and dirty towels in the corner gave them a qualm. Uncle Frodo would not be happy they had made so much work for the laundresses.

But they were four rather exhausted tweens.

Just as they were beginning to relax, they heard the sound of the door open and close, and voices--

“Gandalf, I am afraid I don’t understand why the accounts of the Second Age here in Minas Anor are so contradictory. The accounts in Rivendell all were in agreement…”

“Because the memories of Men are not so accurate as those of Elves, Frodo--”

But Frodo interrupted. “Lads! Are you home?”

“We’ll be right there, Uncle Frodo!” Perry called. The four of them hurried out of their room.

Fam whispered urgently “Be a good lad, Bill, and stay quiet!” as he pulled the door closed behind him.

“Here we are, Uncle Frodo!” said Perry cheerfully. His voice was pitched a bit high.

“What have you lads been doing today?” For the four of them had been given a holiday from their lessons at the Citadel, as the Royal Tutor, who taught them along with the children of the King and of the Steward, was away attending his niece’s wedding.

“Oh, we just went down to the shops in the fourth circle, Uncle Frodo” said Merry-lad.

Frodo looked at them sharply. Years of experience with their fathers had taught him the folly of relying on an innocent expression and a non-challant tone of voice. He fixed his sharp blue eyes on Fam as the most likely to wilt under his gaze.

Fam smiled back uncertainly. It was very hard to fool Uncle Frodo.

Just then, there came a loud scratching noise from the direction of their chamber. Uncle Frodo’s eyebrow went up.

“He followed us home, Uncle Frodo! Really, he did!” Fam cracked first.

“They were teasing him and hurting him--” added Merry-lad.

“We were going to tell you as soon as--”said Perry.

“Please, Uncle Frodo!” said Pip-lad, his brown eyes filled with distress. He looked exactly like Sam at that age, thought Frodo. “Can’t we keep Bill?”

“Bill?” Frodo interrupted.

Gandalf, who had been watching and listening in amusement, said mildly, “Perhaps we should meet this ‘Bill’.”

The lads looked at one another. Gandalf almost never said anything when Uncle Frodo was dealing with the lads. But they all four scrambled back to their chamber, where the scratching noise was now accompanied by an occasional sharp bark.

Frodo put his palm over his face. “ ‘Bill’.” He sighed. “They’ve named it.”

Gandalf chuckled. “Never a good sign, old friend.”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” Frodo said. Merry-lad and Pip-lad had often brought strays home to Bag End, and by the time Frodo left, a sweet little terrier named “Teacake” had been a member of the Gamgee household for several years, joining several cats.

Still, even though he was half-expecting it, Frodo found himself startled by the sight of the shaggy, grinning monster the lads brought forth for his inspection.

“Good heavens!” he said. “Now I know why you named him ‘Bill’.”

Bill’s tail began to wag, fanning the air like a small windmill. Frodo approached slowly, and the dog lay on the floor, exposing a white belly to be scratched. Frodo laughed. There was certainly nothing to fear here.

Shaking his head, Frodo leaned over to oblige, and then looked sharply at Gandalf.

The wizard approached, and looked at the dog carefully. “Indeed, Frodo, I think you are right.”

The belly was slightly swollen. Frodo patted it and stood up, and Bill rolled over. The younger three lads looked a bit puzzled, but he saw the light of comprehension dawning on Perry’s face.

“I think you may wish to re-consider the name, lads. Bill’s going to become a mother in a few weeks’ time.”

“Bill’s a *lass*?” Fam exclaimed.

“I am afraid so,” said Gandalf.

“Well, we can hardly turn her back out into the streets in her condition,” said Frodo. “But you are going to find her a good deal of work to care for. And you will have to find homes for all of the pups! You can’t be taking a whole kennel home to the Shire when you go.”

“Oh, thank you, Uncle Frodo!” the lads all embraced him heartily in relief.

Bill sat up and barked.

Fam looked over at her. “I guess we’ll just have to call her ‘Billie’.”





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