12. Breakfast

Frodo opened his eyes slowly, wondering why he felt so marvellous. He lay there for awhile, looking at the patterns made by the sunlight coming in through the crack in the curtains, before he remembered the reason for his present lack of anxiety.

In his slowly waking mind, Frodo went over the events of yesterday, especially the kind things Bilbo had said to him. He flushed a little, remembering. Bilbo didn’t want to send him back; Bilbo didn’t think he was too much trouble; Bilbo wanted to take care of him. He didn’t understand why Bilbo was so devoted to him, but he had never had any reason to doubt Bilbo’s word.

Frodo stretched a little, and decided with relief that he wasn’t too sore to move. The tweenager pushed his blankets down to his waist and propped his back against the headboard so he could sit up slightly. His stomach told him it was well past time for second breakfast. Frodo remembered Uncle Bilbo saying something about food by the bed, and he quickly discovered the plate sitting on the chair within easy reach, covered by a napkin.

Frodo’s stomach growled, and he reached over stiffly to pull off the napkin, drop it on the floor, and seize a piece of fruit.

At that moment, however, someone knocked on the door. Frodo drew back, startled, but before he could answer, his visitor opened the door and walked into his bedroom.

Naturally, it had to be Daisy Gamgee. Frodo gave a squeak of alarm and hastened to drop his fruit and pull the blankets up to his chin. He stared at the intruder, watching warily for the slightest sign of giggling. He didn’t know what he would do when that happened, though. Daisy was blocking the only exit. And he didn’t want to emerge from bed wearing only his nightshirt.

Undaunted, Daisy walked forward, proudly bearing a breakfast tray, as Frodo belatedly noticed. She halted beside his bed and said very properly, “Here’s your breakfast, Mr. Frodo!” Daisy set the tray on the bed beside the astonished boy and clasped her hands behind her back. “Will ye be needin’ anything else, sir?” she asked formally.

“N-no, no thank you,” Frodo replied, without looking at the tray. He couldn’t stop to wonder why Daisy Gamgee was bringing him breakfast in bed, because his mind was busy thinking that it would be even harder to escape now, with that breakfast tray in the way.

Daisy nodded, evidently pleased with herself, and walked sedately back to the door. When she was safely on the other side of the threshold, she grinned at him finally and closed the door behind her with a flourish. Just as Frodo was breathing a sigh of relief, he heard scampering feet and a flurry of giggling which faded slowly as Daisy ran off down the hall.

Frodo lay there for awhile, trying to overcome the humiliation of being seen in his nightshirt by a girl, of all things, before he noticed the delicious smells that were coming from the tray. The tweenager slowly emerged from his blankets to sniff the air inquisitively.

Finally looking at the tray, Frodo was delighted to discover a mound of fluffy scrambled eggs, a plate of bacon and sausage, well-buttered toast triangles, and a stack of fried potato wedges. This was far more appealing fare to a growing hobbit lad than the cold fruit and bread that Bilbo had left him. Without bothering to think any further on the matter, Frodo began demolishing his breakfast.

A few minutes later, another knock sounded at the door. Frodo paused warily with a piece of half-chewed bacon in his mouth, but no one barged in uninvited this time.

“Ah, come in?” Frodo said after a moment, swallowing his bacon hastily.

The door opened to reveal Bell Gamgee, but thankfully no sign of Daisy.

“Good mornin’, Mr. Frodo,” Bell said with a warm smile. “I’m dreadful sorry about Daisy. She was supposed to wait for me. How’s your breakfast?” She shifted the plate that Bilbo had left on the chair and sat down comfortably.

“Oh, wonderful!” Frodo exclaimed rapturously. “Thank you, Mrs. Gamgee!”

“You’re quite welcome, lad,” Bell said, laughing at the child’s wonder. “Mr. Bilbo oughta be back right soon. He asked me to look in on you while he was out.”

Frodo eyed Mrs. Gamgee shrewdly. “Uncle Bilbo didn’t ask you to make me breakfast, did he, ma’am?”

“Well, no,” admitted Bell. “That was my idea. A growin’ lad needs a proper breakfast!” She smiled at Frodo fondly.

“Thank you, Mrs. Gamgee,” Frodo said again, shyly. “I hope you didn’t go to any trouble.”

“Nonsense,” said Bell, looking at him seriously. “After what ye did to help our Sam with Mr. Lotho...” She trailed off. “Well, it’s the least I could do. We’re all mighty grateful, Mr. Frodo.”

Frodo had no idea what to say in response to this extraordinary statement, so he remained silent.

Bell got to her feet. “I’d best leave you to finish your breakfast, young master,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “And don’t worry; I’ll keep Daisy away so ye can relax!”

Frodo coloured slightly, but Bell just laughed and closed the door behind her.

Once he got over his embarrassment, Frodo finished his delectable breakfast quickly and settled back down. He wanted to get up and get dressed, but he knew he would need help, and he certainly wasn’t going to ask Mrs. Gamgee. Frodo lay staring up at the ceiling contentedly. Bilbo would be home soon. Bilbo wanted him here. Frodo felt so completely happy at this moment that it seemed preposterous to imagine that he could one day be unhappy again.

Bilbo climbed the steps to Bag End adroitly. He was a little startled to see Bell Gamgee and little Daisy emerge from the green door just ahead of him and hurry down the walkway. Bell saw him and waved.

“Thank you kindly for looking in on my boy,” Bilbo called.

“You’re very welcome, sir!” replied Bell cheerfully. “I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Bilbo, but I made Mr. Frodo some hot breakfast.”

“Oh!” Bilbo exclaimed, surprised. “Well, thank you indeed! That was very kind of you.”

“Not at all, sir,” said Bell. Daisy looked slightly abashed, as though she had recently been rebuked for something.

“Good day, Miss Daisy!” Bilbo greeted the little girl as they passed.

“Sir,” Daisy answered politely, with a sweet, innocent smile.

Bilbo smiled to himself as he hung up his cloak in the foyer. What a charming lass that was, a perfect angel. Moments later he was knocking on Frodo’s door.

“Come in!” Frodo called.

Bilbo went into his cousin’s room and sat on the edge of the bed. “Well, how are you feeling this morning, dear boy?” he asked, scanning the boy quickly. He seemed pale but relaxed.

“Pretty well, Uncle,” Frodo replied. “I’d like to get up and dress today, if you’ll help me. I’m still a little sore.”

“I’m not at all surprised, lad,” Bilbo said. He looked at Frodo’s face searchingly, but saw no trace of the previous tension. Frodo was looking back at him, azure eyes sparkling eagerly. “Well, I’ll get out your clean clothes, then!” Bilbo said finally, pleased with what he saw.

“How was your errand, Uncle?” Frodo asked politely as Bilbo moved to the clothes cupboard.

“Oh... it went very well indeed, lad.” Bilbo smiled to himself, recalling the priceless expressions on the S.-B.’s faces when he’d threatened to call in their debts. “The result was quite satisfactory.” Bilbo helped the child dress, and then together they walked slowly out to the sitting room, where Bilbo built a good fire and settled Frodo on the couch.

“Merry will be here tomorrow, won’t he?” Frodo said suddenly. Bilbo had just chosen a book to read to his nephew.

“That’s right, Frodo-lad,” replied Bilbo, sitting down beside the boy. “Tomorrow is the twenty-seventh.”

Frodo smiled. “I can hardly wait!” he said.

Bilbo laughed and ruffled his ward’s dark curls. “Well then, let’s see if we can distract you with a few stories, eh?”