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Eleventy-one Years: Too Short a Time   by Dreamflower


Chapter 3: Encounter, Part Two

Bella was suddenly filled with the urge to walk, and to get some fresh air, and to put some distance between her and her frustratingly nice husband.  Why won't he just argue with me once in a while? she thought.   A good row never hurt anything; it clears the air!  She steadfastly  ignored the little tiny voice that sounded like her mother telling her that all a row brought was noise and hot air and usually hurt feelings and tears.

She went out a small side door to the South Garden, and then kept on walking past the stables and the small cherry orchard, and across the road towards the assembly field.  Preparations were already going on for the Midsummer celebrations that would be taking place there in a few weeks time.  She saw Gandalf, who seemed to be measuring his paces and muttering to himself, he glanced up and smiled at her.  Normally she would have stopped to pass the time of day with the old wizard; they were friends of old, after all.  But he was very astute, and she did not wish him to probe her in her current mood.  She gave him a wave and kept walking to the southeast.

Instead she began to converse with her small son, who was looking about with interest.  "Do you know where we are going, Bilbo-my-lad?  We are going to find some trees!  Yes, we are!"  

Seeing Gandalf had reminded her of the time when she had been no more than fifteen, a wild little hoyden who often ran about in lads' breeches.  There was a wood not far from the Great Smials, a small one, no more than about two miles long and no wider than a couple of furlongs.  It consisted of copper beeches.  She often would go there to play and to get away from overbearing big brothers.

She was pretending to be a Tookish archer, marching to the rescue of the long-ago King when she heard an odd whistling noise overhead, followed by a crashing thud among the upper branches of the tree under which she was walking.  A few leaves rained down upon her head as she gazed upwards, trying in vain to see what might be up there.

"Bless my beard!" said a loud voice behind her.  She turned to see her father's friend Gandalf the Grey standing there, also looking up into the tree, his shaggy eyebrows drawn together in a perplexed expression.

She turned and looked up at him, not at all cowed.  The Took children knew Gandalf as an amiable old fellow who would tell lovely stories, made beautiful fireworks that rained down in splendour on summer nights, and could be quite generous with the squibs and crackers. They were not at all intimidated by his size.

"What was that, Gandalf?" she asked.

"One of my rockets!  I was experimenting with a new kind of rocket, and this one went astray! It should not be left up there-- I need to examine it to find out what went wrong."  He looked at her with a twinkle in his dark eyes.  "You don't suppose..."

She gave him a grin.  "Would you boost me up to the first limb?"

He chuckled, and lifted her up to the lowest branch.  Soon she was scrambling upwards, nimble as a squirrel.  It wasn't the first tree she'd ever climbed, but she had never climbed quite so high before.  Soon she could reach the rocket-- the tube was bent, and it smelled of sulfur.  She reached out and plucked it loose from between two smaller branches, and then looked at it dubiously.  It was too large to hold between her teeth.

"Drop it down to me!"

She nodded, and reached out to drop it so that it would not catch on any other branches on the way down.  It did bounce off some of the smaller twigs, but made its way mostly unencumbered to the ground.

"Be careful coming down!" the wizard called.  

She climbed down much more carefully.  Down was, for some reason, scarier than up.  Then she reached the lowest limb, and Gandalf reached up and plucked her down.

"Thank you, my dear!  Goodness, you are quite an adventurous little Took!"

Her heart had swelled with pride to be called an "adventurous Took", most especially since he had not added "for a lass".

He took the rocket in one arm and with his other hand took one of hers, and they strolled back to the Great Smials.  "I shall have to confess to your mother that I persuaded you to climb a tree," he warned.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because it is the right thing to do, you know.  I must not abuse your parents' hospitality!"

"Oh!" Of course that was true. The rules of hospitality were very strict.

She needn't have worried.  Adamanta took it all in stride, though it rather scandalized her sister Citrine who was visiting the Great Smials.

"Imagine!" she had snorted "He is too old to be setting young girls on such mad adventures!"

Adamanta had laughed heartily at this.  "You have no idea just how old Gandalf is, sister!  And I scarcely think climbing a tree is a 'mad adventure'!"


Of course, there had also been the time the wizard had rescued her and Mirabella from the Old Forest...she really could not remember that at all well...

The pleasant walk and the dappled shade and the whisper of the trees calmed her mood, and as she usually did, she began to see how ridiculous she had been.  Did she really want her sweet Bungo to act like her bossy and temperamental older brothers? Of course not!  It was his very level-headedness and willingness to look at all sides of a thing that she admired about him.

But he was going to have to get over being intimidated by Tooks at some point. It made visits here uncomfortable for him.  She loved her family and wanted to spend time with them, but it made her very cross to see her dear Bungo withdraw into himself every time he came here.

Still he was not at all intimidated by the most important of the Tooks!  Her father liked Bungo very much, and she had a sneaking feeling that he'd take Bungo's side in any dispute!

Bilbo was becoming restless in her arms, and she paused briefly to draw her bodice down so she could nurse him, covering them both with his blanket over her shoulder.  "There my lad!  I am sure that's much better!  But Mama is getting hungry, too!"  From the hollow feeling in her middle, Belladonna thought she had missed not only elevenses, but by the time she got back, luncheon as well!  She stopped, and leaning against one of the trees, she burped her son and did up her bodice.  He blinked at her sleepily, and she smiled and felt her heart turn over with love.  Such a wonderful son!

But, oh, she was hungry!  She started back at a much less leisurely pace than she had taken coming this far.  Perhaps that was why she tripped against an upthrust tree root.  Trying to protect her baby, she turned as she fell.  

Bilbo began to cry.  “There, there, my little lad,” she sniffed.  “Mama just tripped over the nasty roots.  It’s all right, Bilbo dear.”  She held him close, and with an elbow braced herself on one of the roots and tried to rise, only to sit back down abruptly with a cry of pain.  Startled, Bilbo began to wail in earnest.  “Shush, my child! We don’t want a nasty old fox to hear us.”  Belladonna suddenly felt terrified, not only for herself, but for the baby.  “Mama’s turned her ankle, that’s all…”

***

Bungo was more than a little worried.  He had been sure she would show up for luncheon, but when she did not, his questions were dismissed.  

"Oh, I wouldn't worry if I were you, Bungo!" said Donnamira.  "I am sure she's just taking her lunch elsewhere in the Smials!"

He could not deny that possibility.  Many Tooks had some of their meals in their own quarters, for most of the apartments had their own small kitchens; others took them in the main dining hall.  But so far, questions to those who might have been likely to host his wife for lunch had not seen her.

Well, he had last seen her heading outdoors, so he supposed that's where he ought to begin looking for her.  He could not help a little feeling deep in his heart that something was wrong-- something more than just her anger at him.

He walked past the stables and the cherry orchard, and noticed that Gandalf the Grey was in the middle of the assembly field.  If his wife had gone that way, perhaps he would have seen her.

The wizard had planted one end of his staff in the ground, and appeared to be absorbed in measuring its shadow.

"Ahem...Er--uhm..."  Bungo cleared his throat.

Gandalf turned to face him.  Bungo did not dare come closer to this large person.  But he needed to know.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Baggins."  The voice was deeper and louder than a hobbit voice, but it was cordial all the same.

“Er, well, yes. G-good afternoon.  Have--have you seen my wife, Mistress Belladonna, pass this way?  She had our son with her…”

Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow.  “As a matter of fact, I did see them earlier, walking towards the East.  But that was some hours ago, before luncheon.  Has she not returned?”

“Oh dear! Oh dear!” Bungo said, “She wasn’t at luncheon, and no one in the smials has seen her since second breakfast!  She--uh, she--wasn’t happy with me this morning…”

"I see."  Gandalf took his staff from the ground, and said, "Well, then, why don't I help you look for her?  I can show you which way she went."

***

Gildor looked up through the trees.  They had stopped for the day, and would continue their journey beneath the stars, for they had come to the end of this small forest, and if they were to keep their presence from becoming generally known by the small inhabitants of this land, they would need to wait until the cover of night.  Once they had left this wooded area, they would be travelling over more settled lands--tilled fields and bare hills.  But at night, there would be none to mark their passage, save perhaps a wakeful shepherd or two, who would scarce believe their own eyes.

He wondered if this would be the time he himself would take ship and return to the West.  He had led many to Mithlond, each time thinking that he too, would sail.  Yet each time, as he stood upon the quay, his heart would tell him “not yet, not yet; you have still some task to fulfill ere you may depart these Shores and cross the Sea to Elvenhome.”  Suddenly, he was startled from his reverie by a sharp cry of distress. It was not one of his people--that was not the voice of an Elf, and it came from ahead of him and not behind. Swiftly, though cautiously, he made his way in the direction of the sound.

As he came nearer, he heard a soft weeping, and in addition to the weeping, another whimper.  There, near the gnarled roots of an old oak was one of the periain--apparently a young mother, for she held a whimpering babe close to her heart, and was rocking it back and forth, trying to soothe the child, even through her own tears.

“There, there, my little lad,” she sniffed.  “Mama just tripped over the nasty roots.  It’s all right, Bilbo dear.”  She held the child close, and with an elbow braced herself on one of the roots and tried to rise, only to sit back down abruptly with a cry of pain.  Startled the babe began to wail in earnest.  “Shush, my child!”  the young mother said.  “We don’t want a nasty old fox to hear us.”  She looked about her, eyes wide with fear. “Mama’s turned her ankle, that’s all…”

Keeping the presence of Elves a secret was all well and good, but Gildor could not simply stand by and leave her thus.  While it was unlikely any predators would be close now with Elves nearby, she had no way to know of that unseen protection.  And she and the child were far from the help of any others of her kind.  Silently he stepped forward, keeping his hands wide and trying to appear unthreatening.

“Small Mistress,” he said, as softly as he could, “may I be of some assistance to you?”

She looked up in alarm, but did not make a sound as her jaw dropped.  She stared, her green eyes huge, and she clutched the child even closer.  Finally, she swallowed. “You’re an Elf,” she rasped.

“Gildor Inglorion, of the House of Finrod,” he said, bowing slightly, and cautiously moving closer.

She did not flinch, though she did tense up. “I am Belladonna Baggins, at your service, Master Gildor,” she said shakily, but with the ingrained courtesy of her people. “This is my son Bilbo.  I am afraid that I stumbled and turned my ankle.”

Gildor nodded, and knelt down by her.  “May I?” he asked.  He reached out very slowly, and took her right foot in his hand.  It was, of course, unshod.  He prodded it gently, and she winced and bit her lip.  The baby in her arms twisted around to look at this new person.

“Meh!” he said, his blue eyes huge.  Gildor studied him.  He was a comely child, with a riot of brown curls and an amiable and intelligent expression. He gave the Elf a grin, and Gildor found himself grinning back.

Returning his attention to the perian’s ankle, he saw that it was already swollen.  She would not be able to walk upon it for some time.

Before he could say anything to her about it, there was an alarming rumble from her mid-section, and she blushed.  “I-I’m sorry--I’m afraid I’ve missed elevenses, and it must be nigh on to luncheon.”

Gildor sat back on his haunches.  “My people are encamped a very short distance from here.  Perhaps you could take a meal with us.  We have also a healer, who could bind up your ankle for you, and then we could send a message to your people--”

She stared at him for a moment, as if uncertain, and then nodded.

The Elf reached out to the child, who trustingly came to him.  He settled the babe on his left arm, and then with his right, picked up the mother.  She gasped a bit as he stood up, and gripped him about the neck.

It took Gildor only a few moments to stride back to the place where his people were encamped, and they looked up in shock to see their leader carrying the perian and her child.

He turned and spoke.  “Lomiel,” he called, and an Elven-woman with raven hair stood up and came over.

Gildor looked down at Belladonna.  “Mistress Baggins, this is Lomiel.  She will tend your injury, and then perhaps, we shall see to finding you a meal?”

“Thank you--” she looked at him uncertainly, “what about Bilbo?”

He smiled at her.  “I think that you may safely leave him with me for a few moments.”

She nodded, and allowed Lomiel to carry her away a short distance.

Bilbo watched his mother, an expression of curiosity on his small face.  He glanced up at the Elf who still held him. “Ma-ma?” he trilled.

Gildor chuckled.  “Your naneth will be just fine.  In the meantime, shall we see if we can find something for you?”

The other Elves had begun to gather about Gildor, marveling at the tiny child, who was so small that he easily fit into Gildor’s two hands.  Bilbo looked about him, with an expression of delighted wonder, and when one silver-haired Elf leaned over him, he reached up a chubby hand to pull on one of the locks.  The Elf laughed, and then the child laughed too.

Soon the Elves were all seated around, and had provided Bilbo with a rusk of bread to chew on.  If he had been smiling before, he was positively gleeful now.  Never had he tasted anything like it.

Lomiel carried Belladonna over to the rest, her foot now snugly wrapped in a bandage, and Bella took little Bilbo into her own lap once more.  Soon she was provided with bread, fruit, cheese, and a fragrant golden draught.  She listened in amazement, as the Elves began to sing.  Little Bilbo tried to sing along as well in his wordless fashion.

Gildor watched over the small group, and then slipped away. Time was passing, and the family of the little wanderers would probably be searching for them frantically.  If he could find a sign of searchers, he would take her back to them, but he would prefer not to have to go into the settled areas to do so.

He had nearly reached the spot where he had first found her, when he heard the sounds of someone approaching.

“Dear me,” said one voice, clearly that of a perian, “I am so worried.  We’ve not seen any sign of her since that oak tree.  This is all my fault.  If I had not made her cross with me over my timidity with her family--”

“Do not fret, Mr. Baggins,” came the other voice  “I am sure we shall soon find her.”  Gildor knew that voice--it was Mithrandir!

The Elf stepped forth.  “Are you searching for Belladonna Baggins and her child?” he asked.

Bungo gasped, and stepped behind the wizard, who chuckled and put a reassuring hand on the curly head.  “Well met, Gildor Inglorion!  I take it you have found our strays?”

“Yes, we have both mother and child safe with us.”  He glanced down at the perian who had cautiously moved forward.  “Your wife has sprained her ankle.  But our healer is tending to it, and she and your child have been fed!”

“Oh! Oh thank you!  But--but I am forgetting my manners!  I am Bungo Baggins, at your service!” and he made a courteous bow.

“You are most welcome, Master Bungo.  If you and Mithrandir will follow me, I shall take you to your family.”

A short while later, Gildor led them into the clearing, and with a sharp cry, Bungo darted over to his wife and took her into an embrace, baby and all.  The Elves and wizard kindly pretended not to notice the tearful apologies from both parties.  After a few moments, Bungo stood back up.  “I do not know how to thank you, Master Gildor!  I was so worried!”

“No thanks are needed, Master Baggins; we have much enjoyed the company of your wife and child.”

It was soon arranged that Gandalf would carry Belladonna, as she was not to walk upon her ankle for some days, as Lomiel told her firmly.  “Be certain to seek the advice of a healer of your own people before removing the bandage,” the Elf-woman reminded her.

Belladonna nodded, and impulsively kissed the healer on her cheek.  “Thank you, Lomiel,” she said, as Gandalf scooped her up into his strong arms.

Little Bilbo was in his father’s arms.  He looked up and laughed “Pa-pa!”  Bungo hugged him tightly.

Gildor knelt down.  “Master Baggins, may I say farewell to your remarkable son?”

Bungo handed Bilbo to the Elf, who took him carefully.  Big blue eyes gazed up at him solemnly.

For some reason, Gildor had the feeling he had not seen the last of this one.  Leaning his face down, and not flinching as the tiny fingers wound into his hair, he murmured “No e beren, ar garo i dhôl vell na nauthad, ar i ind vell na velad, ar i gaim vell na gared naid, ar i dail vell na drevaded, ar lúban tolo beriannen na mar în,*” and bestowed a kiss upon the little brow.  Then he handed the child back to his father.

Mithrandir looked at him.  “That was quite a blessing you bestowed upon this child,” he said in Sindarin.

“My heart tells me that perhaps this little one will need it someday,” was the bemused response.

Gildor watched as their unexpected guests left the clearing.  No, he did not think he would be taking ship this time, either.

***
Belladonna found being carried by Gandalf to be remarkably comfortable.  In spite of her injury, she felt much happier.  Bungo had easily forgiven her for her ridiculous anger, she had eaten, and she had met Elves!  As a child she had always wanted to meet an Elf one day, and now she had met several!  She gave a sigh of contentment.

But something puzzled her.  "Gandalf?"

"Yes, Belladonna?"

"What did he say to Bilbo?  The Elf, when he spoke to my son, what he said was not merely 'farewell'."

Gandalf was silent for a moment, and then bent his head slightly and murmured "'May he be brave, and have the strong head to think with, and the strong heart to love with, and the strong hands to work with, and the strong feet to travel with, and always come safe home to his own.' "*

What a remarkable thing! Belladonna thought.  It was a little alarming, as though the Elf knew something about her child's fate, that he would need such a blessing...

__________________

*Quotation from  Five Children And It by Edith Nesbit, assigned as a challenge element.

AUTHOR'S END NOTES:  One section of this story, the part in Gildor's point-of-view, was quoted from a previous story "Eucatastrophe: The Return", a very small section of one chapter in that story.  (While the story itself is AU, the flashback provided in Chapter 7 is part of my own fanon backstory for Bilbo.) The "blessing" was a quotation assigned as part of a challenge element, and the Sindarin translation is courtesy of the kind and talented Ithildin, as I have no skills myself in Sindarin, or in any other Elven language.  Here is a link to how she did the translation: Ithildin's Notes on Translation.

 

 





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