MASTER OF BAG END

Chapter 7 --- A Shower of Stars

“Gandalf’s cart finally came in handy,” observed Merry.  “The sides keep out the wind, and this thick straw we put in is nice and warm.”  He laced his fingers under his head, gazing up at the brilliant, twinkling stars.

“It’s a perfect place for star-gazing, especially on a chilly night like this one --- and it only took us a year to discover it!” chuckled Frodo.  “Last month, when Pippin heard about Borgin One-Hand, I think he would have been happy to sleep out here.”

“You’re exaggerating, as usual,” sniffed Pippin from somewhere in the straw.  “I didn’t believe that story for one second.”

“Mr. Frodo,” said Sam reprovingly, “you didn’t tell Mr. Pippin that dreadful tale?  Whatever for?”

“Tradition,” replied Frodo firmly.  “Family tradition, Sam.  The Gamgees must have traditions, and don’t try to say they don’t.”

“Of course we do,” agreed Sam.  “But takin’ a poor lad down into the dark, and tellin’ him about Dwarf hands prowlin’ about…” He grinned suddenly.  “Why, everybody knows those Dwarf hands prefer nice, soft places.  Like this straw.”

“Samwise Gamgee,” Pippin warned, “don’t you dare.”

“He’s right, Sam, we shouldn’t tease,” agreed Merry.  “Besides, Dwarf hands prefer to hang under things.  Like this cart.”

“We need to meet a real Dwarf, Frodo,” Pippin declared, rubbing straw into Merry’s hair.  “I’ll bet they don’t even carry axes anymore, let alone lose track of their hands.”

“There has been rumor of Dwarves on the borders of the Shire,” said Merry.

Pippin’s eyes lit up.  “They might be coming back to claim Bilbo’s share of the dragon gold!”

“Bilbo risked his life for that treasure,” said Frodo firmly.  “It’s his.”

“Not yours?”

“It just doesn’t feel like mine, Pip.”

“Can we see it?”

Frodo grinned.  “No.”

“Look at that!” Sam pointed to the glowing trail of a shooting star, then another, and another.

“Elwing,” Frodo murmured.  “That’s ‘star spray’.”

“Is that Elvish?” Merry asked.  “Did Bilbo teach you?”

“Just a little bit.”  Frodo smiled.  “Sam’s the one who should learn Elvish, since he wants to see Elves so badly.”

“If the Elves knew what a good cook he is,” Pippin chuckled, “they’d be wanting to see him.”

Frodo turned over in the straw and looked at Sam.  “You should come to Rivendell with me,” he said.  “You’ll get to see Elves, and I’ll bet Bilbo’s missing some good Shire cooking.”

“I’d come with you, Mr. Frodo,” replied Sam.  “I’d surely not have you dashin’ off alone.”

“Are you going to Rivendell, Frodo?” asked Merry.

“I’m thinking about it.”  Frodo plucked a piece of straw from Merry’s hair and chewed it thoughtfully.  “Perhaps in another year or so, if I haven’t heard from Bilbo by then.”

“That gives you lots of time to learn more Elvish.”  Pippin suddenly dug about in the straw.  “Did we eat all the apples?”

Frodo sat up.  “I’ll get more.  If you starve to death, your parents would never forgive me.”

“If he does starve to death,” Merry pointed out, “we can just ship him home in this cart.”

“That’s convenient,” Frodo agreed.

“Never heard of a hobbit starvin’ to death in the Shire,” said Sam.

“You could be the first, Pip,” grinned Merry.  “You’d be famous.”

“Frodo…” Pippin whimpered.

“Apples it is,” said Frodo, vaulting over the cart’s side and landing lightly on the ground.  “My, it is chilly tonight.  We’re so warm in there, I forgot.”

Frodo walked up the path and opened the door to Bag End, glad that they had prepared a good fire in the parlor’s hearth.  He took a moment to walk about, taking pleasure in his warm, comfortable home.  His eyes flickered over the books… maps… chests…

Without knowing quite knowing how he got there, Frodo found himself kneeling in front of a large chest, his hand on the latch.  This chest held only two treasures ---  Bilbo’s maps… and his ring, still sealed in an envelope.

‘Keep it secret’, Gandalf had said.  What nonsense; Frodo knew in his heart that Bilbo wasn’t coming back, and he suspected that Gandalf wasn’t coming back, either.  He was alone, and would never get any answers, and would be Master of Bag End for the rest of his life.  The ring was his.

“I should wear it,” Frodo murmured to himself, “or carry it with me, like Bilbo did.  It’s mine.”  He started to wonder if it was as beautiful as he remembered, and whether it would fit.  “It’s mine,” he whispered.  “I wonder if---”

“Frodo?”

Frodo gasped in fright and leaped to his feet.  “You can’t have it!”

“Frodo, it’s me!”  Merry looked at his cousin, concerned.  “Are you all right?”

Frodo stared at Merry for a moment, then suddenly began to laugh.  “Of course!  I was just thinking about… things…”  He looked puzzled.  “What’s wrong?”

Merry sighed.  “You’ve been gone for so long, we were worried about you, is all.  Now Pippin wants apples and cheese.”

“What do you mean, I’ve been gone for so long?”

Merry frowned.  “It’s been at least 15 minutes.  Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Fifteen minutes?”

Merry pressed his hand to Frodo’s forehead.  “No fever.”

“Of course I don’t have a fever.”  Frodo smiled.  “Come on, you can help me load up a basket for our starving cousin.”

“Too late,” Sam sighed as Merry handed the basket of food up to him.  “Mr. Pippin’s left us.”

Frodo and Merry rejoined Sam in the cart, and solemnly observed Pippin’s feet sticking up through the straw, all that could be seen of their cousin.

“What a shame,” mused Merry.  “If we hadn’t been delayed bringing this delicious peach pie with us, we might have been in time to save him.”

“Peach pie is Pippin’s favorite,” added Frodo.  He shook his head sadly.  “Or I should say, it was his favorite.”

Something under the straw started moving, but Merry casually pushed it back down.  A hand broke the surface.

“Is that a Dwarf hand?” asked Frodo.  “I think Bilbo left an axe around here, somewhere.”

There was a yelp, and great heaps of straw starting flying about as a thrashing and coughing body suddenly emerged.

“Pip!” exclaimed Merry in delight.  “We thought we’d lost you!”

“Pie?” asked Frodo, holding out a plate to his straw-covered cousin, who grinned and took it.

“Mr. Frodo,” said Sam, “if you don’t mind me sayin’, sir, you should be settin’ a better example.”

“You’re right,” Frodo replied contritely.  “I’ll start tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Pippin breathed.  “Look!”

Four pairs of eyes gazed skyward, as the beautiful star shower intensified.  The hobbits lay back in the straw, momentarily forgetting even food as they marveled at the display.

“That’s amazin’,” murmured Sam.  “The best ever, I’d say.”

Merry heard Frodo sigh, and he gently took his cousin’s hand.

“Wherever Bilbo is, right now,” Merry said softly, “He’s looking at this same ‘star spray’ as we are.”

“I know,” Frodo smiled.  “I know.”

** TBC **