MASTER OF BAG END

Chapter 2 --- Bilbo’s Heir

Frodo stood looking down at the chest for a long time, holding an unusually shaped key in his hand.  Bilbo had so many chests, scattered around Bag End  --- full of maps and old books and mementos --- but only this one, in his bedroom, was ever locked.

“If you’re ever in trouble, Frodo-lad, or you find yourself alone, see if anything in here will help you.”  Bilbo had gestured to the oddly-shaped chest that he kept hidden in his bedroom.  “The key will always be right here,” he continued, patting the pocket of an old jacket that hung on a hook.

“…if you find yourself alone…”  Frodo sat down on the floor, laying his hand gently on the old chest.  Some money, he assumed.  Sting had disappeared along with a few other things; could Bilbo have left him a weapon of some kind?  A magical way to contact Gandalf?  Or maybe his secret recipe for seed-cake…

“Bilbo,” he sighed.  “I miss you already.”

“Everything all right, Frodo?” A voice rang out from the other side of the closed door.

“I’m fine, Merry!” Frodo called out.  “Could you see that Pip gets breakfast?”

“Hah!  No one has to see to that, cousin, but I’ll see that he leaves you some!”

Frodo smiled to himself.  When he hadn’t returned to the party, Merry, Sam, and Pippin had pleaded with Sam’s father to unlock Bag End so they could make sure he was all right.  Finding him fully dressed and sound asleep on his bed, they had simply camped out in the extra bedrooms to wait for morning.  They didn’t want him to be alone.

“I have good friends, Bilbo,” Frodo whispered.  “I don’t know what you could have in here that’s any better than that.”  He put the key in the lock, turned it, and raised the lid.

The inside of the chest had been partitioned into three sections, and one section was full of money.  There were so many coins that Frodo knew, even without counting, that Bilbo had left him enough to live on for many years.  With this realization, he felt a weight lift from him that he hadn’t even realized was there.

“Maybe I should give Sam a raise,” he chuckled quietly.  “And now, what’s this?”

In each of the other two sections of the chest lay a large, bulky, drawstring pouch.  Frodo lifted one, surprised at the weight of it, thrust his hand inside, and gasped.  Hardly breathing, he pulled out a handful of gems.  Frodo stared at his palm in disbelief, wherein lay four diamonds, six rubies, and two perfect emeralds.  And the bag was… he looked inside.  The bag was nearly full.  These were riches beyond comprehension.

“Bilbo,” he murmured, “I never dreamed…”  He poured the gems back into the bag, returned it to the chest, and opened the second, lighter bag.  Gold --- pure, glittering gold pieces.  There weren’t many of these --- Frodo presumed that Bilbo had either been trading them for coins, or taken some of the gold with him when he left.

It was one thing to have heard a lifetime of stories about dragon treasure --- it was something else again to hold it in your hand, to see it before your eyes.  If this was what was left after 60 years, how much had Bilbo brought back with him?  Frodo put the second bag back into the chest and closed the lid, then locked it, not quite ready yet to stand up, or even think clearly.  He only knew that he was, most likely, the richest hobbit in the Shire.  He would never want for anything, and he could be as generous to his friends and family as Bilbo had been.

“I’m the Master of Bag End,” Frodo whispered.  “It’s really true.”

*~*~*~*~* 

“All right, out with it.”

“Out with it?”

“Out with it, Frodo Baggins!  Last night you woke up for two seconds, mumbled something about talking in the morning, then fell back to sleep.  This morning you said we’d talk at breakfast, then you disappeared for an hour.”  Pippin leaned his elbows on the table and cupped his face in his hands.  “Here we are.  Talk.”  He frowned.  “Did Gandalf spirit him off again?  Another dragon to be slain, and poor Bilbo the only hobbit up for the job?”

Frodo grinned at his cousin, who sat with him, along with Merry and Sam, at a dining room table full of food --- normal breakfast fare, and leftover party food.

“Your face is dirty, Pip,” said Frodo.  “Is that still from the fireworks?”

“No, and don’t change the subject.”  Pippin sighed and motioned around the room.  “In case you haven’t noticed, Frodo, we’ve been trying to clean up a bit around here.”  He grinned.  “I earned every smudge.”

“Plus, it’s from the fireworks,” Merry chuckled.  Pippin threw a sweet roll at him, which he ducked.

Frodo evaded Pippin’s question, for the moment, applying himself to Sam’s excellent cooking.  He wasn’t quite ready, yet, to talk about Bilbo, or Gandalf’s odd behavior.

“Thank you for straightening up this mess.  What’s going on, down there in the field?”

“Well,” Sam said, “Gandalf took his horse, but his cart’s still here.”

“And don’t think Pip didn’t search it!” cackled Merry.

“Empty,” mourned Pippin, fortifying himself with a third helping of eggs.  “Not a sparkler or cracker to be found.”

“There wasn’t much food left, as you can imagine,” Sam continued, “but what there was, we brought up here.  The folks Bilbo hired to clean up the field, and haul away the tables an’ such, are out there now.  They should be done soon.”

“And the guests?”

“Gone,” said Merry breezily.  “Everyone’s probably still sleeping off all that good ale and food.  Oh, and this was left for you.”  He pulled a note out of his pocket and handed it to Frodo.  “Guess who.”

“Speakin’ of dragons,” Sam chuckled.

Frodo unfolded the note, read it, and sighed.  “Lobelia and Otho will be by later, to express their condolences and see if I need anything.”  He crumpled the note angrily.  “Condolences!  And what do I need from them?  What do they want?”

“Oh, they’ll be very subtle,” grinned Merry.  “They’ll ask if you can afford to keep up a place this big, and isn’t it lonely up here all by yourself, and wouldn’t you be happier back in Buckland among relatives who won’t go disappearing on you.”

“My family’ll look after you, Mr. Frodo,” said Sam.

“Thank you, Sam, but I’m not completely helpless,” said Frodo with a smile.  “Bilbo hasn’t exactly been waiting on me hand and foot all these years, you know, so I can look after myself.  And he left me…”

“What?” asked Pippin.

“Enough,” said Frodo firmly.  “I’ll be all right.”

“Frodo…” Pippin looked around Bag End.  “…will you be lonely here?”

“Hard to say, Pip,” Frodo laughed.  “I haven’t been alone yet!”

** TBC **