16. Endings and Beginnings

December 31, 1391

In the midst of a dark, wintry forest, perilously close to the cave of a ferocious, universally-feared dragon, a small blue tent was pitched. Three brave Rangers of the North sat inside, debating how best to proceed in slaying the beast.

“Ouch! You’re sitting on my foot, Meromir!” exclaimed the tallest Man.

“Oh, sorry, Frodomir,” said Meromir, “but really, this tent of ours just isn’t large enough.”

“Shall I wait outside, sirs?” offered Samomir solicitously.

“No!” cried the other two rangers in unison. A brief flurry of activity followed, as the three Men struggled to find comfortable places to sit.

“Well, what about this dragon, then?” asked Meromir once the dust had settled.

“Will we be slayin’ the beast with bows and arrows again, Mr. Frodomir?” inquired Samomir.

That valiant ranger considered briefly, then shook his curly head. “Nay, Samomir, then we’d have to go outside again and make snowballs. Let’s just use swords.”

“Aye,” Samomir agreed. “Then where might we be findin’ our swords, sir?”

Frodomir lifted the flap of the tent and all three gazed out through the opening, looking for inspiration in the faint light outside.

“I suppose those writing pencils on your desk will do,” said Meromir at length.

Frodomir allowed the tent flap to drop back into place. “All right,” he said. “Our swords are in the campsite, but they’re sitting on that—ah—rock over there. We’ll have to go out and retrieve them, without waking the beast.”

The other rangers nodded eagerly.

“I’m ready, Frodomir,” Meromir whispered theatrically.

“Me too, sir,” added Samomir breathlessly.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at Frodo’s bedroom door. “Lads? Are you in here?” Bilbo could be heard calling from the other side.

“Oh, no! It’s—ah—Bilroc, the fire breathing dragon!” Frodo whispered.

Merry and Sam both giggled, and Frodo raised his voice to call, “We’re here, Uncle! You can come in.” The door opened, and the children could see a squat hobbit-shape silhouetted in the light from the hall.

“Why in Middle Earth is it so dark in here?” wondered Bilbo.

“’Cause we’re in a dark, wintry forest, Uncle Bilbo,” Merry informed him. Bilbo lit the lamp on Frodo’s nightstand and peered at the makeshift tent in the centre of the room.

“Will you stay to supper tonight, Samwise?” asked Bilbo when he caught sight of the three lads under the blanket. “Our visitors are going home tomorrow, and I’m sure they’d all love to see you one last time.”

“I’m expected at home for supper, sir, but thankee kindly,” Sam replied, flushing slightly in embarrassment as he often did when directly addressed by his father’s master. “This is the last day o’ my Aunt Primrose’s visit, too, Mr. Baggins.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Bilbo said cheerfully. “Well, Frodo-lad, why don’t you and Merry walk Sam home, and then come back and wash up for supper.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Frodo replied. He was already taking down the blanket that had been hung over two chairs. Bilbo nodded, winked at Merry, and left the room.

Sam hastily took the makeshift tent from Frodo and spread it carefully back over the older lad’s bed.

“Well, I guess this is it,” Merry said sadly. “The end of a brilliant Yule!”

“You’ve got a few hours yet, Mr. Merry,” Sam put in helpfully.

“That’s not what I meant, Sam,” said Merry impatiently. “You have to go home now, and tomorrow I’ll have to go home, and it won’t be the same!”

“Don’t worry yourself, Merry-lad,” Frodo said easily. “I’ll still be here, and Sam will be here, and you’ll come back to visit again.”

“Do you really think so, Cousin Frodo?”

“Well, of course! And when you’re older, you’ll probably come by yourself, any time you like. And perhaps you’ll bring Pippin along!” Pippin’s parents and sisters had all been quite delighted with the baby’s new pet name, once Frodo had related to them the applesauce incident, and now everyone in the smial used the name freely.

Merry smirked at this thought. “I shall certainly come back, but Pippin is only a baby, Frodo,” he said matter-of-factly.

“The condition is temporary, Cousin,” Frodo laughed. “You didn’t stay a baby forever, did you? Now let’s get Sam home before he misses his supper.”

The three lads put on their jackets and cloaks and went outside. It was a beautiful evening; the sun was just setting, and the air was crisp and cold. They walked down the path in companionable silence, bare feet crunching softly in the light dusting of snow. They passed through the gate, which Frodo closed after them, and continued down to Bagshot Row.

Quite unexpectedly, snow came flying at the three lads from behind. Sam yelped in surprise as he felt a handful of cold wetness soaking into his honey-coloured curls. Frodo received a snowball to the neck that slid down the back of his shirt, and a third snowball hit Merry squarely in the back.

The startled hobbits whirled around just in time to see three heads wearing identical pink hoods disappear over the crest of the Hill. They heard laughing and squealing as the Took lasses retreated down the other side of Bag End.

“Heavens!” said Merry, sounding impressed. “They’re good!”

“Yes,” said Frodo thoughtfully. “Pity it wouldn’t be proper to fight back.” Frodo hastily shook out the back of his jacket and shirt, and sighed in relief when he felt the wet projectile slide down his spine and out from beneath his shirt. “But at least they have the decency to run away when they want to do their giggling,” he muttered, half to himself.

Sam rubbed the snow out of his hair vigorously, still looking a little shocked, and the three continued on their way. At Number 3, Bagshot Row, Halfred answered the door and thanked Frodo for bringing his brother home.

Merry and Frodo returned to Bag End alone, glancing around furtively in case their cousins had another surprise attack planned. They made it back to the smial unmolested, however, and were somewhat perplexed to find Pearl, Pimpernel, and Pervinca sitting all in a row at the dining table, smiling far more sweetly than was normal.

Pippin was sitting between Pervinca and Eglantine, and the baby squealed gleefully when Frodo and Merry appeared in the doorway. “Fwo!” he exclaimed happily.

“Hullo, Pippin!” Frodo said cheerfully. Frodo had taught Pippin to say his name, or at least part of his name, the day before, and was quite delighted with his success. At least he had cured Pippin of that extremely unfortunate habit of exclaiming ‘Pretty!’ whenever he caught sight of Frodo.

The lads took their seats across from Pearl and Pimpernel, and dinner proceeded cheerfully. Frodo was beginning to wish he had made an effort to get his girl cousins to join in some of the lads’ games; these lasses had turned out to be far more fun than he’d initially assumed.

Frodo leaned across the table toward Pearl. “Er, do you three want to play rangers and dragons with Merry and me after supper?” he asked quietly.

Pearl exchanged looks with Pimpernel, but before either could reply, Pervinca piped up unexpectedly. “I want to play with Fwodo!” the toddler exclaimed.

“Sure we will,” Pearl said finally, green eyes twinkling. Frodo tried not to show his surprise, and after dinner the five children trooped back to Frodo’s room to rebuild the tent.

Several hours later, everyone was relaxing in the sitting room, listening to one of Bilbo’s tales. The rangers-and-dragons game had gone well, with Pimpernel Took giving an excellent performance as Pimroc the Dragon. Pearl, Pimpernel, and Pervinca had all proven to have sufficient imagination, much to Frodo’s delight, and had participated fully in the game without the slightest trace of disdain.

“I do hate to interrupt the story,” Eglantine said, glancing significantly at the clock on the mantel.

“Oh, let them stay up another hour! It’s their last evening all together!” Paladin protested, turning from where he had been tossing his youngest daughter playfully in the air.

“Paladin, you spoil dreadfully any child you come in contact with,” said an exasperated Eglantine, but her stern words were gainsaid by an impish smile.

Paladin merely grinned back at his wife and set the giggling toddler on the floor. Pervinca leaped up immediately and twined her little arms around Paladin’s leg. “More, Da!” she pleaded.

Eglantine sighed resignedly and exchanged smirks with Esmeralda. “All right, another hour, then,” she said, to the delight of the children.

As Paladin bent down to oblige his young daughter, Bilbo was sitting in his favourite armchair, telling tales to the audience of little ones sitting at his feet. Frodo had heard this particular story before, but it was one of his favourites, and he listened attentively. Baby Pippin had no interest in the story, and was crawling from Merry to Pearl to Pimpernel to Frodo and back to Merry. Esmeralda and Eglantine were sitting on the couch, chattering away over their knitting, and Saradoc was dozing in the other armchair.

Frodo glanced at the mantel clock every few minutes, as did Merry, although Frodo was fairly certain that his nine-year-old cousin couldn’t read clocks yet. He supposed it made no difference; neither lad wanted the evening to come to an end.

But Pippin grew tired eventually and curled up on Merry’s lap, and when Pervinca fell asleep at Eglantine’s feet, the hobbit lady arched an eyebrow significantly at her husband.

“Well, at least they got to sit up late on their last evening,” Paladin said defensively. Bilbo’s story wound to a close then and all the children were herded to bed.

Frodo waited outside the large bathroom for the lasses to finish, and soon all three emerged and trooped off to their room, murmuring cheerful “good-nights” as they passed their cousin. Frodo washed up quickly and put on his nightshirt, then returned to his room to find Esmeralda just tucking Merry into bed. Frodo crawled in beside his cousin, and Esmeralda kissed both children goodnight and extinguished the lamp.

The lads lay quietly for awhile, and Frodo began to think Merry had fallen asleep already.

“Frodo?” Merry said suddenly.

“What is it, Merry-lad?” Frodo replied.

“Are you—are you glad you live here now?”

Frodo sighed, wondering how best to answer. “I do miss you, Merry,” he said, smiling in the darkness. “But I am pleased to live here with Uncle Bilbo, yes.”

Merry yawned. “That’s what Momma said,” he replied. “I’m glad it’s true.”

Frodo waited to see if Merry would say anything else, but the younger lad’s breathing soon evened out in sleep, and Frodo closed his eyes to follow suit.

January 1, 1392

In the grey dawn of morning, Frodo stood in the doorway with Bilbo, sleepily watching Hamson and Halfred Gamgee load two wagons with luggage as the Yule visitors prepared to depart.

The Took wagon was ready first, and the Tooks said good-by to their Buckland cousins before coming outside. Eglantine hugged Bilbo and Frodo and invited them both to Tookland any time they liked.

“Keep an eye on Bilbo, young hobbit,” Paladin said to Frodo with a wink.

“I will, Uncle Paladin,” Frodo replied, grinning. He had become very fond of his jovial Took uncle over the course of this brief visit. “And you keep both eyes on Pippin; he might swallow something worse than a whole jar of applesauce one of these days.”

Paladin laughed and ruffled Frodo’s dark curls fondly. “I’ll do that, lad.” The gentlehobbit focused kind grey eyes on his young cousin. “And do come and visit us sometime, Frodo.”

“I shall,” Frodo answered, and gave Paladin a quick hug. Pearl and Pimpernel came forward to hug Frodo good-by, before allowing their father to lift them into the sleigh. Little Pervinca stopped in front of Frodo then, reaching up with small, chubby arms. Frodo lifted her obligingly so she could hug him around the neck.

“Good-by, Fwodo!” she whispered.

“Be a good lass, Pervinca,” Frodo told her, before handing the toddler over to her mother.

“Everyone ready?” asked Paladin, standing beside the pony with Peregrin in his arms.

“All set, dear,” Eglantine replied from her seat in the sleigh.

Peregrin chose that moment to wail loudly. “Fwo!” the baby cried.

“I am sorry, young Pippin!” Paladin told his son. “You haven’t said good-by to your cousin yet, have you?” He brought the baby back to where Frodo was standing, and Frodo leaned forward to kiss the silky forehead. Pippin stared at Frodo with round green eyes.

“You’ll see me again, Pippin,” Frodo said softly. “I promise.” He knew he would miss his little cousin, but he forced himself to smile at the baby.

“Fwo,” Pippin said again, and reached one chubby hand forward as Paladin started to take him away. Frodo closed his eyes briefly and was startled to feel a tiny hand close tightly around his nose. “Pretty!” said the baby, casting back through his limited vocabulary and trotting out an old favourite.

Frodo started to laugh, but Pippin was still grasping his nose firmly, forcing the older lad to snort loudly instead. Pippin chortled with glee, and the Tooks’ visit ended on a cheerful note. The other wagon was ready then, and another round of good-bys was said.

“I hate saying good-by,” Merry grumbled to Frodo as he hugged his cousin tightly.

“As do I,” Frodo replied, and cast around for something to cheer up the younger lad. “But only think! I heard your parents talking, and it sounds as though you’ll be seeing a lot of little Pippin in the next few months.”

“Oh, yes,” Merry said, brightening. “We’re to spend a few weeks at Tookland in the spring.”

“Well then, the burden will no doubt be yours, since you’ll see Pippin far oftener than I shall!” Frodo exclaimed.

“What do you mean, Frodo?” asked Merry.

“Why, the burden of teaching young Pippin to make mischief, of course! Now I’ll admit he has decent sisters, but really, can we leave it all to them?”

Merry laughed. “No, indeed!” he said. “Don’t worry, cousin. I’ll make sure Pippin learns everything you taught me!”

The two cousins grinned at each other for a moment before Saradoc came to put Merry in the wagon. Frodo and Bilbo waved as the three Brandybucks set off.

For several moments after the two departing wagons had vanished into the foggy morning, an old hobbit and a tweenager stood silently on the front step of Bag End, each lost in his own thoughts.

“It’s a new year, my boy,” said Bilbo at length, clapping Frodo on the shoulder. “A time for new beginnings.”

 “I’ve already been given my new beginning, uncle,” Frodo said after a moment.

Bilbo gazed at his heir for a moment, then kissed the boy on top of his curly head. After a last glance out into the swirling grey mist, the old hobbit squeezed Frodo's shoulder and ushered him back into the warm hall of Bag End.