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The Letter  by Antane

Chapter Four: A Shadow of Old Trouble

A/N:  I forgot to mention that I had stolen the idea of Frodo nailing everyone with a snowball from Larner - hope you don't mind!  And in the further interest of full disclosure, the title of this chapter is taken from the BBC Radio adaptation of the tale ("The Grey Havens" episode) and there are a few lines adapted or inspired from the movies.

Sam and Rose prepared an elevenses that all were pleased to see Frodo eating more robustly than usual. In fact all who had been outside ate well, having worked up an appetite with all the exercise they had gotten. Arwen smiled at her husband, having immensely enjoyed watching him outside.

The short time before lunch was occupied by Faramir, Aragorn and Arwen receiving the grand tour of Bag End, given by the Master of the smial. It was a revelation for them all, even Aragorn who had heard much description of hobbits from Bilbo in Rivendell. It ended in the study.

"I love this whole home," Faramir said, "but this room I could live in."

Frodo smiled. "You can, while you’re here, if you’d like. It’s my favorite place too. And I have on more than one occasion fallen asleep here, but not since Sam has come to live. He always makes sure I’m in bed, even if he has to carry me!"

They all laughed and marveled at the wonderful sound of it coming from Frodo. Faramir looked at the various volumes, quite absorbed. Aragorn smiled. "I think perhap we shall leave you two scholars together and see what help we can provide for lunch."

Faramir looked to his king and smiled in return. Frodo beamed. The two were left and were soon in earnest talk together about some obscure book that Bilbo had translated.

Sam poked his head in an hour later. "Time for lunch, master dear, Lord Faramir," he said.

Man and hobbit looked up at once. "We shall have to continue this discussion later," Frodo said. "But I don’t want to so lose track of time like it is too easy to do here. Gandalf is coming for Yule dinner after all, and I have to make sure he is properly welcomed!"

The Steward smiled for he could tell very well from his friend’s mischievous look exactly what type of welcome there was to come. The two followed Sam out and had a filling lunch. Faramir decided not to be amazed any longer at the capacity of hobbits to eat so much so many times a day. He decided instead to be amazed that he could eat so much himself.

Gandalf did come as scheduled and when he came in the door, his cloak was rather liberally touched with snow. Frodo followed him in with a merry expression and barely suppressed giggle.

"I see you have been properly welcomed," Aragorn said with a smile.

The wizard raised an eyebrow and then shook the snow off onto a mat. He turned around and knelt and opened his arms to receive his dear hobbit friend. Frodo hugged him tightly and happily.

"Now," Gandalf remarked to Aragorn, "I have been properly welcomed."

The king laughed softly. "Both ways are apparently equally valid, if you come here and it’s snowing."

Gandalf pulled away enough to be able to look Frodo in the eye. His deep sight caught the pain that dwelt within, like a wound that still bled and had no cure, but his physical eyes caught only joy and light. Frodo could have been the happy lad he had met now and again when Bilbo had still been master of Bag End.

"Isn’t it a wonderful surprise that Aragorn, Queen Arwen and Faramir are here, Gandalf? My Sam is too good to me."

"It is a marvel, my dear hobbit, and one I am glad to see. Very glad indeed."

Frodo let go of his friend and tugged on his hand. "Come on into the kitchen and see all that Sam and Rosie have prepared for us! It’s going to be a feast!"

The wizard obediently came along. He bowed to Arwen who inclined her head with a smile. He bowed also to Rose who blushed and curtsied.

"Oh, Mr. Gandalf!" Sam called from sniffing the soup he had prepared. He put the ladle back into the large pot and Rose came up immediately to stir it. The wizard smiled at how seamlessly the two worked together, like one person, just like he had often thought Sam and Frodo were as well.

"Gandalf!" Merry and Pippin cried together and rushed their friend at the same time. Gandalf didn’t have time to kneel to receive them properly, so just absorbed the impact, though it set him back a step, and hugged them as best he could.

"Now we can begin!" the tween said. "We were just waiting for you. You took your time, didn’t you?"

Gandalf’s eyes sparked dangerously and his brows bristled along with his beard. "Are you trying to imply, Peregrin Took, that I am late for supper? I assure you that wizards are never late, nor are they early."

"They arrive precisely when they mean to!" Frodo crowed and collapsed into giggles.

Pippin was having none of that. "Didn’t Cousin Dora always say, early is on-time, on-time is late and late is unacceptable?"

"I am quite on-time, Peregrin Took," Gandalf said, bristling even more. Merry could have sworn there was a thunderstorm in those eyes threatening to break. He could see the lightening flickering. "And I am not late."

"But we will all be, if you don’t stop fussing, dearest," Frodo said to his cousin with a twinkle in his eye. "Now stop giving Gandalf such a hard time and take your seat."

Pippin hurried to the dining room table which was now extended to accommodate the newest guest. Leaves normally hidden from daily use were pulled out from underneath. The tween patted the chair next to him. "Will you sit next to me, please, Gandalf?"

The wizard came up with a smile and sat down where invited. The storm had passed and the sun was out again. Aragorn and Arwen smiled. Their friend exhibited his usual impatience and annoyance with the youngest of those who had gone on the Quest, but underneath it was a fierce love that was just as obvious and a pride too in how they all had grown and been so untouched by the terrible evils they had seen. Or almost untouched. He knew they all had scars held under their hobbit cheer, but they were almost unnoticed even by themselves. All but for Frodo. But the wizard was not going to think of that tonight. He was going to enjoy himself.

And so he did and so did they all. When it was fully dark and all the stars had come out in the cloudless sky, the younger hobbits hurriedly bundled up and urged their guests to do so also so they could join the rest of Hobbiton to watch the Mayor light the Yule log and bonfire.

The first hint of trouble was when Frodo’s cheer deflated as he slowly got his cloak, hat, scarf and mittens on. Sam watched him carefully as the others did, as unobtrusively as they could. "You can stay here, if you’d like, me dear," the gardener said softly.

Frodo shook himself and looked at his guardian. He dearly wanted to do that very thing, but he smiled instead, a bit tremulously, but bravely. "No, Sam, let’s all go out. I don’t want to be left behind."

Sam squeezed his mittened hand and smiled back. He knew Frodo rarely went out after dark anymore when memories of his pursuit and wounding by the Nazgul were most apt to overwhelm him. Frodo kept hold of Sam’s hand the entire time and seemed to relax a little, though even through the mitten, Sam could feel him trembling.

The whole of Hobbiton came to the Party Field and Frodo did not look at anyone, though he could feel the gazes of many on him. Many of the hobbit lads and lasses looked hopefully at Gandalf, wondering if there would be fireworks. They also glanced curiously at the Big Folk, especially Arwen who shimmered in the moonlight. Frodo was glad it was cold enough that none of the curious could see his maimed hand, though he knew from past experience their gaze would be drawn toward it whether it could be seen or not. At first he was unable to speak even to his friends, so wrapped up in his efforts not to have his fears overwhelm him. His hand tightened around Sam’s. He held back from moving any closer to the bonfire that would be lit than the last row of hobbits gathered. Everyone else stood with him and it was then he found his voice.

"You won’t be able to see anything," he protested. "Move up around the corners so you don’t miss it all."

"We want to stay with you, Frodo," Merry said softly and Aragorn and Faramir touched either of Frodo’s shoulders in silent support.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry," the Ring-bearer murmured.

Pippin took his free hand. "There’s nothing to be sorry for, dearest."

They stood as an united group, though Gandalf seemed to have disappeared. The reason why was soon made apparent as the gaze of the crowd was drawn to the sky where a large firework exploded into the shape of a Yule log. The cheers were loud all around, but Frodo barely glanced at it. The Mayor then lit the real log with a burning brand. Frodo flinched and quickly looked away. He squeezed Sam’s hand even more tightly. When the bonfire was lit, he could not even look at it. It reminded him too much of that other Fire that still consumed him.

He didn’t see the more daring of the hobbit lads jump over the blaze before it grew too high and fierce, but Pippin did and it brought forth memories of Faramir’s near death. He leaned close to the man and looked up at him a bit fearfully. The Steward smiled gently and lovingly down at him and Pippin smiled bravely back. Faramir kissed the top of his head lightly and held him close and that calmed the tween more than anyone else could have.

Frodo continued to keep his head down and the others could see he was so distressed that they were going to leave early, but then the singing began, a traditional Yule song, the first of many that would sung around the Fire.

It was a soothing, favorite melody of hobbits that reached its tender tendrils into Frodo’s frightened heart. It was not as wonderful as the singing in Rivendell that had swept him away when he had first heard it, but it held a magic almost as deep and powerful that his troubled soul harkened to and remembered a time when all was bright and beautiful and no Shadow had come to trouble it. The others were amazed when he began to join in the singing, softly at first, almost inaudibly among all the others voices which were much more hearty, but then his grew stronger and a more wonderful sound none of the group around him heard that night. Even those who had been looking strangely at them before softened their gazes and hearts when Frodo’s voice reached there. Arwen watched him closely as his light grew brighter, then she closed her eyes, the better to listen to his voice. It was hauntingly beautiful, almost Elven, but most definitely a hobbit’s. She silently gave thanks that she could be presented with such a gift. More than one among their group wiped at tears, while Frodo was oblivious, caught up himself in the beauty of the song, but not hearing his own voice. He still remained with his head downcast, but his grip on Sam’s hand had lessened to where it was barely held.

The group stayed for several more songs, but did not participate in the dancing that followed but for one in which Aragorn and Arwen danced near them, far from the fire. Frodo would have dearly loved to have seen his brother and Rose dance, but Sam had felt a change in his master’s trembling and knew it now more from the cold than fear and so turned them all for home. It had been a blessed evening.

"I’m glad we went, my Sam," Frodo said when his beloved guardian came to tuck him in. His voice was tired and there was too much of the familiar pain in it, but there was also peace.

"I’m glad too, me dear," the younger hobbit said and brushed his master’s dear brow softly with his hand and lips.





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