With SurgicalSteel’s gracious permission, I have borrowed the ‘backstory’ of Halbarad courting Serindë, the female healer of Bree, from her marvelous ongoing tale “The King’s Surgeon”. 

This chapter references “Quarantined” chapter 20, and “Reflections of the Past” chapters 3, 4 and 5.

WHEN THE KING COMES BACK

Chapter Twelve – New Strength, New Life

He was Aragorn son of Arathorn, the ninth and thirtieth heir in the right line from Isildur.  ‘Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age’, The Silmarillion

“Supper should be near ready,” Hamfast said, as he and Bilbo entered Bag End.  “Bell set a nice pan of beef and taters on the stove earlier, and I’ll just give it a peek.  Sam said Mr. Frodo slept through elevenses and luncheon, and you and Mr. Halbarad just got back, and... well, you all need to eat, sir.”

“Thank you, Hamfast,” Bilbo said.  “It will be a very long night.”

“It might, but you can never tell.  Sometimes pups come quick.  You go on, now.”

Bilbo hurried down the corridor to Frodo’s bedroom, and found the boy sitting awkwardly on the floor next to Scamp’s basket.  Frodo looked up in relief as his uncle entered the room.

“Frodo, you look more uncomfortable than Scamp,” Bilbo said, pulling some pillows and a quilt off the bed.  He helped Frodo to sit back against the wall next to the hearth, supported by the pillows.  “Here, let me tuck this around you.  Better?”

“Thank you,” Frodo sighed.  “It’s still hard to sit up by myself without aching like an old gammer.”

“How’s Scamp doing?”

“I have no idea.” Frodo said worriedly.  “She’s restless and panting.”

“You need to relax, my lad.  She’s perfectly healthy, and everything’s happening right on time.  We can take shifts watching over her.  I don’t think there should be more than a few people in the room at a time, as she might get a little nervous.”

“Nervous... around us?” Frodo asked incredulously.

Bilbo nodded.  “Scamp’s about to become a mother.  She might act strangely, or even snap.  We have to take our cues from her.”

“This is so exciting, Bilbo!” Frodo burst out, his eyes sparkling.

“I agree.  Where’s Sam?  Halbarad and I saw him running up here.”

“He was going to tell his family what was happening, then try to find Estel.”  Frodo realized what Bilbo had said.  “Halbarad’s back already?”

“He certainly is, and he's probably exhausted and hungry.”

“I’m hungry, too,” Frodo said, realizing how empty his stomach felt.  “I missed luncheon.”

“It’s time you ate something, young hobbit,” Bilbo said firmly.  “And speaking of eating, we’ll see if Scamp will take any food.  And she'll continue to need water handy, or some milk to drink.”  He lowered his voice.  “I think Master Hamfast is quite eager to take one – or even two – of the pups.  He just can’t bring himself to admit it yet.  So don’t tell Sam anything, all right?”

“I won’t,” Frodo grinned.

*~*~*~*~*

Without even taking the time to shed his cloak, Aragorn strode directly to the cellar containing the blocks of ice that kept Bag End’s perishable foods cold.  He lit one of the lanterns along the wall, then shoved aside the crate covering the hole that he, Sam, and Bilbo had dug.  Pushing the lantern through ahead of him, he crawled into the ancient cave behind the cellar wall.  As before, the sparkling gems in the necklace worn by the exquisite carving of Lúthien threw glittering lights of every color upon the walls.  Smiling at the image, he continued past it to the chamber holding the carving of Beren.  Aragorn gazed into the noble face, his fingers straying to the ring Beren bore on his left (and only) hand.  The ring of Barahir, Beren’s father.  The ring that...

Suddenly, as if his mind was ablaze with light, Aragorn remembered.  For a moment, he stood once again before his heart’s desire, placing the ring of Barahir – and his heart – in her hands.  The daughter of Elrond had pledged her heart, future, and life itself to him in return.

“Arwen,” he whispered, his heart flooding with a love that threatened to overwhelm him.  “My beloved.”  This reawakening of the last of his shrouded memories, he realized, must be why he had felt compelled to come down here.  Arwen was waiting for him.  All of Middle-earth was waiting for him, although few knew it.  But for now, he was a Ranger of the North, and nothing more.  The future was yet unwritten.

Aragorn bowed deeply before the image of Beren, then returned to that of Lúthien.  Arwen’s great-great-grandmother, he mused.  The resemblance is truly remarkable.  As he stepped closer to touch the large, intricately-faceted crystal that represented the Silmaril -- worn now by Eärendil himself -- light from the lantern reflected off the silver star pinned to his cloak and into the heart of the crystal.  Aragorn staggered back, blinded by the radiance, and felt himself falling a long distance.  When he opened his eyes, he was startled to find himself standing on a beach of pure white.  The cold air of the cellar had been replaced by a warm, fragrant breeze.  Bemused, he picked up a handful of sand, finding it soft and fine.  It glittered as the dust of diamonds.

“Aragorn,” came a voice, rich and commanding.

A tall figure was striding down the beach toward him.  The light blazing from the Man’s brow was so intense, it seemed as a star brought to earth.  As the figure drew near, Aragorn fell to his knees.

“Do not kneel to me,” the Man said gently.  “Rise.”

Aragorn got to his feet, and stared in awe at the tall, noble presence before him.  “Eärendil,” he whispered, for it could be no other.  “How is this possible?”

“I have seen many things become possible,” Eärendil said with a smile.  “I am charged to show you what I may, in the short time we have together.  Behold!”

The image of the legendary mariner faded, to be replaced by a cascade of faces.  Names Aragorn had read only in books, or heard in tales, blazed in his mind as each face – alike and yet unalike – came and went before his dazzled eyes.  Elros Tar-Minyatur, son of Eärendil and brother to Lord Elrond... Amandil... Beleg... Isildur... Arvedui... Aragorn I, for whom he had been named... So many... Aragorn tried to count, even as he watched in awe.  Thirty... forty...

“More than 60 generations of Men it has been, since I last walked upon Middle-earth,” Eärendil’s voice penetrated the vision.  “In their blood is comingled that of Men, Elves, and she who wed Elu Thingol, Melian of the Ainur.  No other mortal now living can claim this inheritance.  As Melian and all who came after her guarded and defended their people and lands, so will you continue to do.  The northern kingdoms of old are now but stones scattered upon the grass, or drowned beneath the waves -- while kingdoms yet to be, remain unshaped.  Look with pride upon those who helped shape you, as we look with pride upon you -- our hope.”

And then, at the last, Aragorn saw the face that Gandalf had helped him to remember several years back.  Father.  Aragorn reached out, and suddenly something pierced him as a flame.  He felt love, and strength, and he knew that once again the blood of Westernesse, that he had forgotten, sang in his blood.

“My son,” Arathorn said, and Aragorn felt warmth encircle him.

“My father,” Aragorn whispered, bowing low.

“Return now, son of Arathorn,” came Eärendil’s voice.  “Try to remember what you have seen.”  But all Aragorn heard, as he fell into a spiralling mist, was “remember... remember... remember...”

“Mr. Estel, are you all right?”

Aragorn opened his eyes, his head pounding.  He realized that he was still in the cave, on the cold ground beneath the carving of Lúthien.  The lantern flickered, its wick nearly spent.

“I believe so, Sam,” he said, slowly sitting up.

“We were worried,” Sam said.  “Mr. Frodo said you’ve been down here for hours.”

“Hours?  Just give me a moment...”  Aragorn tried desperately to hold onto what he had just experienced, the images beginning to blur.  “What time is it?”

“Suppertime.  What happened, sir?  Did you fall and hit your head?”

Did I? Aragorn wondered

“Mr. Estel, Scamp’s getting’ ready to have her babies!” Sam said excitedly.  “Isn’t that wonderful?”

“It certainly is.”  Aragorn smiled at Sam, who was nearly hopping up and down with anticipation.  “Shall we go and greet them?”  He got to his feet, then gently touched the gem in the sparkling necklace.  Common crystal, nothing more.  Had it all been a dream?

“She’s beautiful, sir.”

“She is, indeed, Sam,” Aragorn said softly.  “She is, indeed.”

*~*~*~*~*

When Aragorn and Sam stepped quietly into Frodo’s bedroom, lit gently only by the warm hearth and a few soft lamps, they were both surprised to find Halbarad there.  The young Ranger was sitting in the large chair next to the bed, leafing through one of Frodo’s books.

“Halbarad!” Aragorn exclaimed, coming to greet his friend.  “You must have ridden like the wind.”

Halbarad smiled broadly, and rose to his feet to greet his captain.

“I can see by your face that all went well,” Aragorn said.

“Very well indeed,” Halbarad said.  “Gwindor and I returned but a short while ago.”  He peered closely at Aragorn.  “You remember, don’t you?  I can see it in your face.”  Halbarad blinked in confusion as a star seemed to flicker for a moment on Aragorn’s brow.

“I remember everything,” Aragorn said softly.  “And Halbarad, before we leave Bag End, remind me to show you one of its rare treasures.”

“There are many treasures here," Halbarad murmured.  They both looked down at Sam, kneeling next to Scamp’s basket and saying comforting words to the dog.

“Have you eaten?” Aragorn asked Halbarad.

“Not yet.”

”Go then.  I suspect there is still plenty of time before the pups begin arriving.”  Aragorn clasped Halbarad by the wrist.  “I very much look forward to hearing your report.”

Halbarad bowed slightly.  “I have much to tell you, Captain.”

For several hours, the hobbits and Men took turns eating and sitting with Scamp.  Everyone wanted to hear about Halbarad’s experience with the Dwarves, but he asked to wait until the next day when he would be more rested and ready to speak of it.

Aragorn discovered that Scamp seemed calmer when it was his hand that stroked her, so he petted and comforted the dog.  At intervals he sipped at willowbark tea with honey, as his headaches were proving slow to diminish.

It was several hours after sunset when Scamp’s labor intensified.  Now Frodo’s bedroom was crowded with people, all sitting very quietly so as not to overwhelm her with too much movement or sound.  Frodo sat once again propped against the wall, with Sam on one side of him and Bilbo on the other.  Halbarad occupied the chair, and Hamfast, who had been unable to tear himself away, sat on the bed.

“Mr. Frodo,” Sam whispered, “look at that!”

“It’s happening!” Frodo gasped.  “What do we do?”

“It is all right,” Aragorn assured the boy.  “Scamp knows what to do.”  He stepped out of the room to wash his hands, and quickly returned.

There was a final push and strain, and at last the first puppy arrived.  Scamp licked the covering membrane away from the tiny pup, massaging the small body with her tongue.  There was a faint mewling cry.

Bilbo hugged Frodo, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“A healthy male,” Aragorn announced, reaching for the string and scissors that had been thoroughly boiled.  “I’ll just help our new mother with this task.”  He deftly tied the cord in two places, and cut it.  Scamp gathered her new son to her tummy where it was warm and the pup could find milk.

“He looks just like Scamp,” Frodo said.  “The same coloring, exactly!  And I was so certain that the little white dog from Whitwell was the father.”

“There are still two to go,” Bilbo reminded him.  “We will see what their coloring shows.”

“He’s nursin’ already,” Sam marveled.  “When will the others come?”

“It may be awhile,” his father told him.  “All new life comes when it’s time, Samwise; that’s how nature works.”

It seemed hours to the watching group, but was only about 40 minutes before the second pup was born.

“There you go, Frodo lad,” Bilbo said.  “White ear, white paws, and a tiny bit of white at the tip of the tail.  A lass, by the look of her.”

“Half Baggins, and definitely half Took,” Frodo said with delight.  The new pup made little grunting sounds as she was gathered to mother’s belly.

After that, it didn’t take long for the third and final pup to arrive, a female nearly identical to the other.

“Twins!” Sam burst out.  “Look, Mr. Frodo, they’re alike as two peas.”  

“Scamp, you were wonderful,” Frodo enthused, giving Scamp a drink.  “I’m so proud of you.”  Scamp’s tail thumped a little, then she returned to licking and cleaning her little ones, and encouraging them to nurse.

“She’s lookin’ so pleased,” Hamfast chuckled.

Frodo felt tears prickling his eyes at the sight of Scamp and her pups; it was just too lovely to bear.  He relaxed against Bilbo, relieved beyond words that everything had gone well.

Hamfast took the soiled towels away, and Halbarad built up the fire a bit more.

“They need to stay warm, Frodo,” he cautioned.  “It may feel too warm in here for you.”

“I’m not leaving this room,” Frodo said firmly.

“You’re an uncle at last, my lad,” Bilbo smiled.  “What do you think?”

“I can’t quite believe it,” Frodo marveled.  “A little of it was hard to watch,” he admitted, “but mostly...”

“It was amazin’,” Sam murmured.  “When will they open their eyes?”

Aragorn laughed.  “You will have to be patient, Sam.”

“So, Halbarad,” Bilbo said, stretching his stiff limbs.  “Have you made your choice?”

“His... choice?” Aragorn asked.

“That one,” Halbarad said definitely, pointing to the male.

“I knew you’d pick him,” Frodo said triumphantly.

Aragorn gaped at Halbarad in amazement.  “Whatever will you do with a dog?”

“He is for Serindë,” Halbarad said quietly.

“What?”

“A thank-you gift.  She has done so much for all of us.”

“But Serindë is so...” Aragorn frowned, thinking about the sharp-tongued healer.  “Do you think she’d like a dog around the house?”

“I do.”  Halbarad said calmly.  The pup would be a gift, but not just to say ‘thank you’.  He had been hoping to find an unusual ‘courting’ present for Serindë, and somehow he just knew she’d love this little pup.  He fervently hoped she wouldn’t name him after any complex medical procedure.

“You’ll have to come back when he’s ready to be on his own,” Frodo said.

“I will return as soon as my Captain allows it,” Halbarad said with a smile.  “And that will be the perfect time to return all the books I plan to borrow from you, Bilbo.”

Hamfast stepped back into the room and surveyed the peaceful scene, then caught Bilbo’s eye.  The old hobbit nodded, and Frodo looked from one to the other, hoping those looks meant what he thought.

“Sam,” Hamfast said quietly, “What do you think of those two wee lasses?”

“I think they’re perfect,” Sam sighed, drinking in the sight of the tiny pups snuggled at Scamp’s belly.

“Think they’d like to be Gamgees?”

“Of course they...” Sam stared at his father, his heart beginning to race.  “What?”

“Pets are a fearsome responsibility,” Hamfast warned his son.  “They’ll take trainin’ so as not to be diggin’ up the gardens or runnin’ off, or botherin’ the neighbors.  Your pups will need to be fed and looked after, and--”

“My pups?” Sam gasped, his eyes filling with tears.

“Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo have been generous enough to offer us two of the pups, if you think you can handle the responsibility.”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except for a small squeak.  Suddenly he leaped up and threw himself into his father’s arms, and Hamfast hugged his young son tightly.

“Come on home now,” Hamfast smiled.  “Time you were in bed, and these folks, too.”  He looked steadily at Bilbo.  “Thank you, sir.”

“I will walk out with you and Sam, Master Hamfast,” Aragorn said, getting to his feet.  “I would like to stand outside for a short time.  Eärendil’s star will be visible, and I wish to view it.”

“See you tomorrow, Sam,” Frodo yawned, smiling happily at his friend.  “Let us know what names you come up with for your new pups, won’t you?”

Unable to speak, Sam looked back at Frodo and Bilbo, then the sleeping pups.  His eyes shone with utter joy.

** TBC **