Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

This is a sequel to “Quarantined”, in which Aragorn first met Frodo and Samwise when Frodo was 22 and Sam was 11. Frodo and Aragorn strongly bonded and became fast friends in a very short period of time, during a serious illness and subsequent adventure. This story assumes familiarity with “Quarantined” and will contain many references to it, but I am hopeful that it can also stand on its own.

STORY NOTES:

Frodo is now 24, and Sam is 12. For those who feel that I write Frodo a bit “young”… I do! In the “Quarantined” universe, Frodo lost some ground, emotionally, when his parents died, and led a somewhat overlooked life in Brandy Hall for nine years. Bilbo’s love and attention are slowly helping him to feel secure again. (Bilbo and Aragorn’s conversation at the end of “Quarantined”, Chapter 15, is the best recap.) Conversely, I write Sam (due to working-class necessity) a bit older than his years. And Aragorn’s rare visits to Bag End bring a warm welcome and sense of family that are difficult to find elsewhere in the solitary Ranger’s life.

The idea for this story -- the discovery of something ancient in the heart of The Hill in which Bag End sits -- has been bouncing around in my head for almost a year, with no place to land; hopefully, I’ve finally found the right place for it. (I’m always interested in hearing how folks hope a story will unfold -- “Quarantined” would have been eight chapters shorter if there hadn’t been so many requests for Sam!)

DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

_________________________

REFLECTIONS OF THE PAST

Notes for Chapter 1: This chapter references “Quarantined” Chapters 16 and 17. “The pool” refers to Bywater Pool south of Hobbiton.

“See lads,” he said, “next time this young varmint sets foot on my land, you can eat him.” Frodo Baggins (quoting Farmer Maggot), The Fellowship of the Ring

Chapter 1 --- A New Baggins

S.R. 1392, July

It was the hottest summer that Frodo could remember. Accordingly, he and Bilbo waited until early evening, when the air had cooled slightly, to take the pony cart to Farmer Cotton’s. The Cotton house and farmstead in Bywater were less than ten miles south -- not an overly-long walk for two adventurous hobbits -- but due to the heat (and another reason Bilbo was being mysterious about), the old hobbit insisted that they take the cart.

Frodo was unusually talkative along the way, and Bilbo half listened and half mused to himself about the reason for it -- the arrival of one of Aragorn’s infrequent letters. In the nearly three years since he had brought Frodo to Hobbiton to live, Bilbo knew that nothing now marred the lad’s happiness at Bag End -- except for the Ranger’s absence. Over the past ten months there had been a few letters, usually brief and hurriedly written, but each brought a joy to Frodo’s life as nothing else could. The letter that had arrived earlier in the week was longer than usual, and sprinkled with enough Elvish to send Frodo studying the phrasebook Aragorn had given him the previous autumn, struggling over words and meanings.

Bilbo’s own attentive care, and the gentle friendships offered by the Ranger and young Samwise, were going a long way toward the boy’s emotional healing and sense of value -- but so many years of being largely overlooked in Brandy Hall had created a void in the lad’s heart that perhaps would never be completely filled.

Perhaps, Bilbo was thinking, tonight would bring something more into Frodo’s life that would help him -- something of his very own to love and care for… or had this been a bad idea? Bilbo fidgeted nervously in his seat.

“You’re being so mysterious, Bilbo,” Frodo laughed, as they came in sight of the Cotton farm. “Did Mistress Cotton have another baby we need to greet? I don’t see any baby gifts in the cart, and Sam didn’t tell me about any new arrivals.”

“Not this time, Frodo lad,” Bilbo grinned. “They seem to have stopped at five, for the time being, at least -- although with four brothers, Rosie might ask for a little sister someday!”

“Bywater’s awfully quiet,” Frodo observed as they pulled up in front of the house and he jumped lightly to the ground. “I suppose most of the children are at the pool, cooling off,” he said wistfully.

“I know you’d rather be there with your friends,” Bilbo said, coming to stand next to the boy, “but you can join them tomorrow. Why I wanted to bring you here is…”

Frodo waited. “Yes?”

Bilbo began walking towards the house, and Frodo joined him.

Bilbo sighed. “Frodo, I may have neglected to tell you something. The Cottons have several… dogs.”

“Dogs?” Frodo stopped dead in his tracks. “I don’t like dogs very much, Bilbo.”

“I know, Frodo lad, but I think you’ll like these,” Bilbo said gently. He put his arm around the tween and knocked on the door. “We’ll leave immediately if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“He keeps them in his house?”

“That’s right.”

“How many are there?” Frodo whispered, his heart hammering in his chest.

“I believe there are three.”

“Three? In his house?” Frodo gasped. Before he could turn and run, the door opened.

“Come in, come in, Bilbo, Master Baggins.” Tom Cotton greeted them with a smile, ushering his guests into the large parlor. “Let me get cool drinks for you both… Mistress Cotton is telling the little ‘uns a story in the back, but I have what you’ve come to see right here…”

There were three dogs… or, as Frodo soon discovered, puppies. Near the hearth, a squirming, wriggling mass of puppies met his astonished eyes.

“Sit down, lad,” Farmer Cotton pushed a reluctant Frodo to the floor. With a grin at Bilbo, he lifted each of the puppies out of the well-padded crate and set them down around Frodo, who sat in their midst in amazement. Bilbo sat down near him, watching carefully.

“But…” Frodo hesitantly touched a finger to one warm, soft bundle of fur, then another. “These are tiny.”

“Aye,” agreed Farmer Cotton, “but old enough now to be on their own.”

Frodo suddenly gasped as two sets of teeth grabbed a hem of his breeches and began to pull the cloth in different directions.

“Bilbo,” Frodo cried, “they’re pulling me away to be eaten!”

Bilbo chuckled. “Hardly that, Frodo lad. Puppies can be rambunctious. You haven’t been around any but full-grown farm dogs, and those mostly from a distance…”

“Mostly,” Frodo murmured nervously, trying to shake the puppies off.

“There’s naught to fear from these pups, lad,” Farmer Cotton said reassuringly. “Think of ’em as little children, seeing everything new and fresh. If they get a little nippy, why, it’s up to us to get ’em to mind us, is all.” Bilbo reached out and extricated Frodo’s breeches from the sharp little teeth, then rose to his feet to stand next to Farmer Cotton.

As the two puppies began to wrestle and tumble with each other, Frodo’s attention was caught by the third and tiniest pup, who simply sat quietly on the floor where she had been set, looking around. Frodo reached out and touched her, gently stroking the golden-brown fur, and long, silky-soft ears, then hesitantly lifted the dog and set her down on his chest for a closer look. The pup settled quietly, head resting on her paws, gazing at the boy thoughtfully.

“Their mother died in an accident, Master Frodo,” Farmer Cotton explained. “We’ve enough dogs to tend the sheep and such, and as these three are rather small, we’re looking for homes for the lot.” He turned to Bilbo. “They’ll not grow too large, especially that runt a-resting there.” He motioned to the pup on Frodo’s chest.

Frodo had heard nothing beyond the words ‘died in an accident.’ “Oh,” he breathed, tears forming in his eyes, “they’re orphans.”

“Aye,” Farmer Cotton said. His usually stern countenance softened as he watched Frodo instinctively cup his hands around the puppy on his chest as if to shield her from… something.

“A mighty sensitive lad you’ve got there, Bilbo,” Farmer Cotton said quietly.

“Yes, Tom, he is,” Bilbo replied, “but a remarkably good-hearted one.” He nodded, making up his mind. “Frodo,” he said, “I thought we might bring one of the pups to Bag End for a visit… if you think it’s a good idea, that is.”

Frodo’s eyes widened. “You mean, one of them would live with us? A dog… would… live with us?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “What do you think?”

Frodo heard a tiny sound, and looked down to see that the pup on his chest was yawning. With a small wriggle, she pushed her tiny nose between two of the buttons on his shirt, and closed her eyes. Frodo found his heart melting. “Well,” he said tentatively, “maybe for a few days…?”

“It will be up to you,” Bilbo said. With a nod, he turned to Tom Cotton and some coins were unobtrusively slid into the farmer’s hand.

“You just bring her back if you need to, Bilbo,” Farmer Cotton murmured, “but I do believe it might work out.”

“What’s her name?” Frodo asked. He rose carefully to his feet, cradling the drowsy pup in his arms.

“That’s for you to decide,” Bilbo smiled.

Farmer Cotton gave the two Bagginses instructions on what puppies ate, and how often, how to train and discipline them, and much more -- but Bilbo suspected that Frodo hardly heard a word of it, so entranced was he by the unexpected events of the evening.

*~*~*~*~*

Frodo said hardly a word on the ride back, still somewhat in shock at the sight and feel of a living, breathing dog nestled in his arms. The pup slept the whole way, waking only when they arrived at her new home. To Frodo’s surprise, the instant the puppy was set down inside Bag End, she raced off, running excitedly through every open door, sniffing and exploring the length and width of the smial.

Frodo laughed at the sight of the tiny dog waddling and sliding through the corridors until she disappeared. Going in search of her, he was surprised to discover the pup in his own room.

“Oh,” Frodo whispered. Bilbo came to his side and looked into the room. The puppy was sitting in the middle of Frodo’s bed, looking expectantly at the tween.

“Merry used to do that,” Frodo said with a smile. “He would come to my room at night and wait for me. I’d tell him stories until he fell asleep, then I’d carry him back to his own room.” He sighed. “She needs a name, but I don’t suppose we can call her ‘Merry’.”

“I don’t suppose,” Bilbo grinned.

“And not unless we decide to keep her,” Frodo added.

“Not until then,” Bilbo agreed.

“Does she know this is my room?” Frodo asked, puzzled.

“Dogs have a powerful sense of smell,” Bilbo explained, “and other senses of which we know very little. She knows this is where you sleep.”

“Where will she sleep, Bilbo? Must we put her outside? Alone?” Frodo grew agitated. “We’re all she has, now.”

“There’s no need for that,” Bilbo said soothingly. “We’ll arrange something for her in the kitchen, perhaps. That basket in the study just gathering dust…” He wandered off to arrange a bed for the pup.

*~*~*~*~*

Long after the puppy had been settled into the basket padded with cloths and soft towels, Frodo lay sleepless, hearing plaintive whimpers coming from the kichen. Finally he could stand it no longer, and carried the basket into his own room. After a few minutes, however, when the pup continued to sound distressed, he succumbed and lifted her into bed with him.

“Just don’t do anything scary,” he whispered to the dog. “We need to get used to one another.”

The pup wagged her tail in ecstasy and licked the boy’s nose before scampering about the bed and exploring every bit of it. Finally, she circled an area next to Frodo’s pillow and plopped down in a heap, gazing at the boy with sparkling, mischievous eyes.

“You were pretending at the Cottons’, weren’t you?” Frodo marveled with a smile. “You pretended to be quiet and calm, but that was just an act to get adopted, wasn’t it? You’re really quite a clever rascal, aren’t you?” He smiled and stroked the puppy’s silky ears, suddenly completely at ease with the tiny dog. “You’ll love Bag End, you silly scamp,” he continued fondly. “It’s such a…”

“What’s a ‘scamp’?”

“That’s someone who’s playful or full of mischief.”

He grinned, remembering Estel’s words from the previous autumn.

“Scamp,” Frodo said to the puppy. “Do you like that?”

The tiny dog inspected his sleeve and nosed inside it.

“I was going to find an Elvish name for you, you know,” Frodo continued, “perhaps Anna [gift]. But I suppose you’re more of a hobbity-type dog, aren’t you?” He pulled the puppy out of his sleeve and regarded her seriously. “If you behave, and we decide to keep you, we’ll have to have an adoption ceremony of some sort,” he said. “Nothing too formal, though.” He released the dog and chuckled, amused to feel the wet nose pushing into his sleeve again.

“Whatever are you looking for in there?” he murmured, yawning and closing his eyes. “You like exploring, don’t you?”

When Bilbo came to check on Frodo, he found him fast asleep, one arm curled around the puppy.

“You’ve moved right in, haven’t you?” Bilbo whispered, crouching to pat the dog on the head. “You rascal.”

The pup thumped her small tail on the bed, narrowly missing Frodo’s nose. Bilbo chuckled and gave her a few more pats, before blowing out the lamp and leaving the room -- feeling quite satisfied with the evening’s outcome.

** TBC **

You folks are so encouraging! I don’t plan “Reflections” to be long or complex, but rather, short, sweet, and gentle -- and containing what I hope is an interesting surprise.

Notes for Chapter 2: This chapter references “Quarantined” chapters 2, 7, and 15. Although hobbits would most likely have used the formal months in their documents (e.g., “Afterlithe” instead of “July”), this is a simple story, so I’m sticking to simple names. And many thanks to my wonderful LiveJournal friends, who assured me that nothing was truly safe from a determined set of puppy teeth.

It was… very clear and correct (according to the legal customs of hobbits, which demand among other things seven signatures of witnesses in red ink). The Fellowship of the Ring

“I know. Scamp doesn’t seem to be after the vegetables, though -- she just. . . digs.” Frodo sighed. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

Sam surveyed the damage to the vegetable garden. “I think we’ll have to put up a bit of a fence,” he said finally. “If the poles are set down deep enough, they just might keep her out, the little scoundrel.” He knelt to look closer at one of the many holes, but ended up patting and talking to Scamp, who was snuffling happily in the fresh, cool dirt she had dug up.

Frodo grinned, knowing that Sam couldn’t even pretend to stay cross with Scamp for more than a moment. The unabashed delight with which the pup greeted the Gaffer and Sam every morning had taken everyone by surprise, and the two gardeners -- master and apprentice -- had found themselves unable to resist such determined friendliness.

Bilbo suspected that Scamp sensed how others felt about (and treated) Frodo, and reacted to them accordingly -- but Frodo simply thought that the pup was a good judge of character.

“It’s only been a week,” Frodo said, wiping a sleeve over his wet forehead. “Maybe when this heat wave breaks, she won’t need to dig down where it’s cooler.”

Sam smiled knowingly. After the initial shock of being introduced to Bag End’s newest resident, and seeing how Mr. Frodo treated her like a member of the family, Sam had just known that all talk of keeping the pup “temporarily” had been nonsense.

Frodo nodded. “Bilbo gave me some parchment to use, and he drew a fancy border around it.”

“Where will you get seven witnesses?” Sam asked. “My sisters can’t even sign their own names.”

“I know,” Frodo sighed, “but since it’s adoption papers for a dog, and not a person, I don’t suppose things have to be that formal. Maybe just Bilbo, you, and I can sign it.”

“I’d be purely honored, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said. “But in the meantime. . .” He picked up a small spade.

“No, you don’t.” Frodo took the spade from the child’s hands. “You shouldn’t have to fill in all the holes this rascal’s made.” He looked around and shook his head. “There must be dozens of them.”

“That’s not right, Mr. Frodo,” Sam frowned. “It’s not your place to be workin’ out here this afternoon. Or any afternoon.”

“Maybe just today,” Frodo laughed, lifting a shovelful of dirt. “If only we could teach Scamp how to fill in holes, as well as dig them. But at least she’s not digging up your gardens,” he observed, “nor anyone else’s.”

“That’s because she won’t leave your side!” Sam smiled. “She doesn’t look so fierce, but that’s a loyal one you got there.”

“But she does leave my side, Sam,” Frodo replied. “Each evening, or sometimes in the middle of the night, she disappears somewhere in Bag End and reappears later, paws all covered with fresh dirt. Bilbo and I can’t figure out where she goes.”

“That is odd,” Sam agreed, “Bag End bein’ all lined with that nice brick and wood everywhere.”

Frodo worked diligently filling in the holes Scamp had dug in the vegetable garden, and then discovered that the pup hadn’t slighted the flower or herb gardens either. It was early evening before he finished, insisting that Sam not lift a finger to help. Finally Sam had to go home to supper, and Frodo dropped the spade wearily.

“Come here, you crazy pup,” Frodo said, crooking a finger to where Scamp was sniffing her way around the various herbs. The dog bounded over and leaped into the boy’s arms.

“I really need to train you not to do this again,” Frodo addressed Scamp seriously, carrying the pup through the front door.

Bilbo was out visiting and wouldn’t be back until later, so Frodo made himself some supper, fed Scamp, and planned a nice, long soak in a tub to cool off and wash away the soil smeared all over his arms, hands, and face.

“I’ll just lie down for a few minutes,” he murmured to himself, and lay down on his bed fully clothed, still smudged and dirty. He was so exhausted that he fell asleep almost instantly. He never heard Bilbo return, and didn’t feel the light blanket cover him -- and he heard none of the commotion at the front door hours later, nor the soft voices near him.

“What have you done to him, Bilbo? Are you working Frodo into such a state every night?”

“I am blameless,” Bilbo chuckled quietly. “Here is the real culprit.” He peeled back a corner of the blanket to reveal a tiny dog, wide awake and suspicious of this stranger.

“Ah.” A finger was held out for the dog’s inspection. Scamp sniffed it thoroughly, then relaxed and thumped her tail happily as she was stroked gently behind her ears.

“Come,” Bilbo said, “I’ll make you some tea, and we can talk for a bit.”

“Thank you, my friend. Here, let me leave this for Frodo to see in the morning.” Something was draped over the chair next to Frodo’s bed, and a hand touched the dark curls for a moment.

“I’ll see you in the morning, little one,” a soft voice whispered into a small, pointed ear.

Frodo slept soundly all night, and awoke to the now-familiar sound of the tiny yips and growls that signalled that Scamp had discovered something new to play with. To chew on. To shred into unrecognizable… Frodo sighed and opened his eyes; sure enough, the pup was pulling a large piece of cloth around on the floor, shaking and biting at it.

“Scamp,” Frodo said to the pup, “if that’s one of Bilbo’s cloaks, you’re going to have to answer to him. This is not the best way to start your Adoption Day, you know.” He started to rise, but fell back with a groan. His arms and shoulders ached from the previous day’s exertions in the garden. However did Sam do that every day? He sat up slowly, suddenly realizing that he was still fully clothed and stiff with dirt.

“All right,” Frodo sighed, “let’s see what you’ve got there.” He lowered himself to the floor, then took up a bit of the cloth and pulled it towards him. Scamp, her teeth clamped shut on a corner of the fabric, was pulled across the floor and into his arms.

“You have your own toys to chew on,” Frodo reminded the dog, waving a finger in the pup’s unrepentent face. “And besides, where did you find this?” He inspected the vaguely familiar cloth, unsurprised to find tiny holes newly-bitten through the thick fabric. “Bilbo doesn’t. . . this is too big for. . .”

“Oh!” Frodo gasped. He put Scamp down, dropped the cloak, and ran from the room. Scamp nosed the large silver star pinned to the fabric for just a moment before bounding after him.

Sam sighed and opened his eyes to Marigold’s smiling face. “Are you sleepwalkin’, sis?”

“No, silly.” Marigold tugged at Sam’s blankets. “The horse you like is back! Daisy saw ’im out in the field when she was out with the chickens this mornin’.”

“Estel!” Frodo ran straight out the front door of Bag End, closely followed by Scamp, and leaped into Aragorn’s arms. “Why do you always arrive when I’m asleep?”

“Why are you always asleep when I arrive?” The Ranger laughed and hugged the boy, then set him down. Bilbo, standing nearby, smiled at the joy on Frodo’s face.

“For a few days,” Aragorn assured him. “That is, if it’s all right with the entire Baggins household.”

“Three of us have to agree now,” Frodo replied, pointing to where the pup was inspecting the Ranger’s boots. “This is Scamp.”

“Scamp, eh?” Aragorn grinned. He bent down to pick up the pup, who fit easily into his large hands, and looked at her closely. “Frodo,” he said finally, “this is the smallest dog I’ve ever seen. At least there’s no danger of her eating you and Bilbo out of house and home.”

“Hah!” Bilbo snorted. “This beast eats as much as Frodo, and then some.”

Frodo, Bilbo, and Aragorn turned to see Sam running full-speed up Hill Lane. Aragorn put Scamp down and smiled fondly at the boy. Even in Rivendell, he didn’t receive a welcome such as this.

“Sam,” the Ranger said as the boy skidded to a halt in front of him, “I just know you greeted Arthad before coming to see me.”

“Sam, it’s too hot to be running like that,” Frodo said, concerned. “Come in and have breakfast, and we’ll hear what this vagabond has been up to.” Frodo looked down suddenly and groaned. “Scamp, leave that alone.” He pulled the pup away from Aragorn’s boots in time to save one of the laces from being untied. “You chew on everything that isn’t nailed down, and---” He paled suddenly, remembering the teeth marks in Aragorn’s cloak, still on the floor of his room.

“Don’t forget to put your weapons out of reach, as well,” Bilbo reminded him, smiling at Frodo.

“Bilbo,” Frodo sighed, “you know I would never deliberately touch those dreadful things. I don’t even remember doing it, last time.” He took the Ranger’s hand. “Come on, we have a lot to catch up on.”

“Now don’t get the idea that I came to see you, Frodo Baggins. I merely stopped by to acquire more of that excellent pipeweed from Bilbo.”

“Hmmph,” Frodo sniffed, “I should have known. Make him work for it, Bilbo.”

“It looks as if you’re the one doing the work.” Aragorn looked the boy up and down. “Have you bathed since I last saw you, Frodo?”

“You’d be dirty too, if you’d been repairing all the damage done by this vicious beast,” Frodo grinned. “And speaking of needing baths, Estel. . .”

“Perhaps you should be nicer to him, Frodo lad,” Bilbo suggested. “You wanted a fourth witness, and here he is.”

We, the signatories of this document, do hereby attest that Bag End, a respected dwelling in Hobbiton, the Shire, is a proper and fitting home for its new resident, a dog of uncertain (but acceptable) breeding hereafter known as ‘Scamp’; and that Frodo Baggins, a minor under the guardianship of one Bilbo Baggins, is a proper and fitting owner for the aforementioned ‘Scamp’; and that the aforementioned Bilbo Baggins, respected gentlehobbit of some renown and legal guardian of the aforementioned Frodo Baggins, agrees to provide a safe, loving, and nurturing environment for ‘Scamp’.

We do also attest to the fact that we affix our signatures to this document of our own free will, under no duress and without coersion.

The three hobbits sat grouped around Aragorn at the dining room table, examining the document Frodo had proudly displayed. Breakfast had been long, plentiful, and full of talk and laughter, and now Scamp was thoroughly licking clean a nearly empty pie pan that Frodo had set down for her as a special “adoption day” present.

“I’ve never read any. . . thing. . . quite like this,” Aragorn said at last, trying not to laugh.

“Frodo wrote it himself,” Bilbo informed him. He winked at the Ranger as he wrote his name in red ink beneath the date -- then Frodo signed his name under Bilbo’s.

“That’s better.” Aragorn held the quill above the parchment, but hesitated.

Frodo noticed the Ranger’s dilemma. “You don’t know which of your names to use, do you?” he asked perceptively.

“Well, no,” Aragorn admitted with a smile. “I can’t remember ever being asked to ‘affix my signature’ to an official document before.”

“That’s all right, Mr. Estel,” Sam said reassuringly. “This is my first time, too.”

“I know you have a lot of names, but Scamp knows you as ‘Estel’,” Frodo said firmly. “Use that one.”

“And sign it in Elvish,” Sam added, then scooted closer to get a better look.

“Very well,” the Ranger agreed. To Sam’s delight, he signed ‘Estel’ in beautiful Elven script, and then handed the quill to the boy.

“It says that we’re adopting Scamp, and that we’ll take good care of her,” Bilbo replied.

“No one’s ever asked me to sign my name,” Sam said in awe. He took a deep breath and dipped the pen in the inkwell, then very carefully (and proudly) signed Samwise Gamgee.

Once the ink had dried on the parchment, Frodo rolled it up, tied it with a bit of ribbon, and added the scroll to a pile of Bilbo’s documents on a shelf. (A high shelf, since Scamp had quickly shown that the only regard she showed any paper she found within reach, whether book, document, or map, was whether or not she was in the mood to chew on it.)

Aiko-chan: I don’t even pretend that this isn’t fluff! It’s fluff, and proud of it! But anything that makes you feel “overjoyously delightful” has got to be a good thing.

Ailsa Joy: Thanks, Ailsa. Yes, I think Frodo deserves a puppy to cuddle with all the angst flying around!

Ainu Laire: Wow, thanks! (And I’m glad to have given you so much New Year’s fic reading!)

Angel Baby: It’s wonderful to hear from you. Please don’t fret -- no puppies were harmed in the writing of this story.

AntipodeanOpaleye: Your review left me nearly weeping with joy and gratitude. I can’t thank you enough for such lovely words. If there was ever an encouragement to continue writing, this is it. You were worried that I might have been bored by your review? I might frame it -- and read it on those days when my self-confidence is less than it should be.

aprilkat: I enjoy writing Bilbo as a wise guardian -- I can’t imagine that he would have been permitted to adopt Frodo, had he not shown his love and good instincts for the lad over the years.

Aratlithiel1: I hope this won’t be too disappointing, but… this story won’t have angst-a-plenty! (Now my next one… you betcha. But not this one.) Sorry!

Ariel3: I love picturing Frodo with a dog. After all, after Bilbo left, Frodo lived alone for 17 years. He definitely could have used “…something aristocratic and gentrified that would enjoy long walks and long evenings by the fireside…” (Now there’s a fic that needs to be written.) I’m afraid this pup isn’t all that aristocratic… but she sure is cute.

AshNight2: Congrats on your new family member! I nearly did name the pup ‘Merry’, but didn’t think the real Merry would appreciate having a female dog named after him.

Bookworm2000: Farmer Maggot not only dragged young Frodo in front of his three guard dogs, but he beat the poor lad. That would traumatize anyone.

Budgielover: Oh Budgie, thank you for saying that this story is ‘soft, warm, and calm’. That was exactly my intention.

ClaudiaofBree: Keep that toothbrush handy, Claudia, you’re going to need it.

Erisinia Gazelle: Your review made me squeal! *glomps you back!* (I assume that ‘glomp’ is a good thing?)

Firnsarnien: I plan this story to be heart-warming, but not sad. Hope it works!

Gentle Hobbit: You’re melting! My work here is done… And I agree -- Bilbo is a wonderful and perceptive guardian for Frodo.

Hai: I did almost name the Pup ‘Merry’! It was fun thinking about possible names.

Hobbit Lily Baggins: It’s so heartbreaking to hear a tiny pet whimpering… I didn’t think Frodo would hold out for long.

hobbitfeet13: Ah, what has the puppy to do with the story? Everything. (And I like Faramir, too! He’s my favorite character after Frodo, Aragorn, Sam, and Pippin. I may write more about Faramir-and-the-hobbits sometime -- how wonderful that we all have years and years of reading and writing ahead of us.)

Hope*Springs*Eternal: I’m glad you approve of the name “Scamp”, Anna! I went through a lot of names before I settled on that one.

Ivy: I’m so glad you like ‘my’ Frodo. He certainly deserves a loving little pup of his very own.

Jaimi: “Big Ranger, Little Puppy” -- maybe I should have named the story that!

Kemenran: Hope you enjoy “what happens next”! I write as fast as my limited free time allows.

Lady of Ithilien: If any story is going to make you “pass out from fluff overload”, I suspect this one may be near the top of the list. And I give Bilbo all the credit for bringing a puppy into Frodo’s life.

Leah Beth: I agree, Frodo really needs a puppy right now -- and maybe we do, too! A bit of a soothing story amidst the ROTK angst.

Leigh S. Durron: Thanks, Leigh! The name is ‘Scamp’, and it’s well deserved.

Lhachel: I love your enthusiasm. I had no idea this little story would make so many folks bounce around so happily (I think puppies tend to do that for us)!

liptonrm: My dog slept on my bed for most of her life (or, to be more accurate, she graciously permitted me to sleep in her bed).

Megz23: Happy New Year to you! I’m so glad you like ‘my’ hobbits. I do love our hobbitses so very much.

Meldewen Ilce: I’ll certainly try not to disappoint. (And Bilbo is wonderfully clever -- somehow Gandalf sensed that rather early, didn’t he?)

Melylott S. Banks: Frodo needs all the hugs we can give him, Mely. Omigosh, “shirefluff”! Hee hee.

Nilmandra: You sleep with one dog and three cats?? Wow, I should have given Frodo more of a challenge.

Nobody: And Happy New Year to you! I’m deliberately not describing Scamp in too much detail, so folks can imagine her as they choose to.

Obelia medusa: I’m sorry to hear that you’ve been ill -- I’m glad the “the lighter side” of hobbit life helped to cheer you up a little.

Pearl Took: I’m glad this isn’t too sweet to even read, Pearl! I had my doubts…

phoenixqueen: Believe me, I know how frustrating it is to have only limited time to accomplish everything we need to. It’s wonderful to hear from you, anytime you can stop by.

QTPie-2488: I love how you phrase that -- “sweet hobbit happiness”… sigh.

San Antonio Rose: Awww… “helping heal a hurting heart.” Love that! I’m deliberately not describing Scamp in too much detail, so folks can imagine her as they choose to.

Sandy K: I thought I was finished with the “Quarantined” universe, but that puppy started whimpering, and, well… what could I do?

Scottish Hobbit: Oh my, thank you so much. “Quarantined” evolved far beyond my original concept for it, as did “By Chance or Purpose”. There’s a line in both stories that explains, I think, how we get brave enough to tackle complex tales: “Love gives us strength and courage when we need it most.” My love for these characters inspires me to accomplish things I never dreamed I could.

Shadow Holds Sway: I appreciate your words. Although I can’t predict where my muse will take me in the future, I will always try to accurately label each story as to violent content, etc.

shireling: I just knew that if anything could melt Frodo’s heart, it would be a fellow orphan.

Singing Wolf: Aren’t you the psychic one! I’m thrilled that I was able to post this new story just in time, and that it makes you so happy.

Tathar: Hope your birthday was a joyous one, dear Tathar. I had a wonderful dog for 16 years, and still miss her, so I couldn’t wait for Frodo to get one.

Tigerlily Sackville-Baggins: I appreciate the fact that you like ‘my’ Frodo -- within the context of this particular “universe”, I try to be consistent with his personality and character.

Trishette: Farmer Maggot really did traumatize the poor boy, didn’t he? Hmmph.

wanequelle: I’m flashing back to my first (and only) puppy, as well. I’d love to have another one someday.

Notes for Chapter 3: This chapter references “Quarantined” chapters 6, 8, 11, and 18.

The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill -- The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it. The Hobbit

“What the Bagginses do is their business, lass -- but this is not Bag End, and there’ll be no animals here unless they give wool, meat, or eggs, and that’s the end of it.”

Fourteen-year-old May Gamgee sighed heavily and left the parlor to help prepare supper. Bell looked up from her knitting and gave her husband a knowing look.

“They’ll all be after you for a pup, now, you know. That little ’un of Mr. Frodo’s is too cute for its own good.”

“Too cute,” Hamfast Gamgee agreed, “and too smart. That scrap o’ dog knows enough to stay out of my way, luckily, or else I’d---”

“You’d do nothing,” Bell laughed merrily. “You’re as fond of her as Sam and the girls, and it’s plain to see. That tiny thing has charmed the lot of you.”

“Nonsense,” the Gaffer muttered. “Pure nonsense.” He fussed with his pipe. “And what about that there Ranger stayin’ up there?”

“What about him? Sam says he’s very kind, and simply adores Mr. Frodo. No harm came of their campin’ with him last year now, did it?”

“No,” the Gaffer scowled, “but I plan to keep an eye on him, just the same.”

The Gaffer glanced slyly at his wife. “So that pup hasn’t charmed you a bit, then, has she?”

“Not a bit,” Bell smiled, getting to her feet. “Now wash up for supper.”

The next day after luncheon, Frodo begged Aragorn to take a walk with him, so he could finally show the Ranger all his favorite trees and special places.

“I know you’re a secret,” Frodo said, “but just a short walk? Maybe up around the back of The Hill? We can walk for a bit along The Water. You left last time before I could show you anything.”

“I’d love to,” Aragorn laughed. “And I’m not that much of a secret, at least not in the Shire -- just my name.”

After leaving Scamp inside Bag End, and waving goodbye to Sam and his dad working in the flower garden, Frodo and Aragorn had an enjoyable walk together in the countryside north and west of The Hill. They ate a snack under a tree where The Water wound north towards Rushock Bog and Long Cleve, and at last started back towards Bag End.

Aragorn burst out laughing. “Frodo, we’ve done nothing but talk since yesterday morning. I’ve answered so many questions for you, my throat is hoarse!”

“You know what I mean,” Frodo insisted, “just us, alone. Without anyone else around.”

They were walking up Hill Lane when Frodo suddenly noticed the Ranger’s clothing for the first time. His garb had scarcely changed since the previous fall, and the layered tunic and shirt hardly seemed light enough for such an intensely hot summer. At least, Frodo thought, the Ranger hadn’t needed to ask for his cloak back -- yet. He took a small sip from the water bottle Aragorn had insisted he bring and held it up, but the man shook his head.

“Aren’t you hot?” Frodo asked, amazed. The sun had been beating down on them all day, making his head ache a little -- he could hardly wait to get home to a cool bath.

“It’s an odd thing,” Aragorn replied, “but I don’t feel the heat or the cold as much as most other men -- or hobbits -- do. Gandalf says it has something to do with my ancestry, which is rather… unusual.”

“That’s lucky,” Frodo said. “That must be why you recovered so quickly after being in that freezing pond for so long.”

“Perhaps,” the Ranger said with a smile, “but I have to admit that was the coldest I’ve ever been! There was one time, though, when I was caught in a blizzard in the mountains south of Rivendell, that…”

As Aragorn told his story, Frodo began to have trouble concentrating on the Ranger’s words; as a matter of fact, he could scarcely hear him. Everything was starting to sound strange and distant, like being underwater. And his vision was growing strange, as well. Everything had a sort of yellow cast to it, colors pale and images blurring. What…

Frodo felt a small, wet tongue licking his face. “Stop that, Scamp,” he muttered. “What are you---” He opened his eyes, and saw Aragorn bending over him.

“Easy now,” Aragorn said softly, removing a cloth from Frodo’s forehead. “You’re all right, little one. Just a bit too much sun.”

Frodo blinked in confusion, startled by the sudden dimness. Looking around, he realized that he was lying on the thick straw that made up the floor of Bag End’s deepest cellar, the one containing large blocks of ice to help preserve meats and dairy products during the summer. Aragorn helped him to sit up, then pressed him to drink from a large glass of water into which chips of ice had been placed.

Frodo drank as much as Aragorn would let him, feeling slightly dizzy. Sam was sitting on a nearby straw-covered block of ice, looking at him anxiously.

“The heat was just too intense,” the Ranger said. “Your body needed to cool down, and I thought this would be the best place to bring you.”

“You fainted,” Aragorn said. “We were nearly home, so I carried you the rest of the way. Bilbo had gone out, but luckily Sam and his father were just outside. They unlocked the front door so I could bring you down here. You began to come around as soon as you were out of the sun.” He grinned. “Scamp nearly went crazy when I brought you in. She somehow knew that something was wrong.”

“Sam’s father thought I’d harmed you, Frodo,” Aragorn sighed. “I never realized just how menacing a pitchfork could be.”

“Master Hamfast came at you with a pitchfork?” Frodo asked, amazed, trying to picture the elderly hobbit confronting the tall Ranger.

“A lot of folks are looking out for you,” the Ranger said quietly. “You have good friends.”

“I know,” Frodo said gratefully, taking another drink. “But Estel, I’ve been out in the heat before. I know it’s hot this summer, but the sun never made me faint.”

“Let me guess,” Aragorn said. “You usually spend days as hot as this either here at Bag End, which stays nice and cool even in the summer, or splashing around in that pond I passed on my way here. Am I right?”

“Yes,” Frodo replied. “We all practically live in the pool during the summer. Except Sam -- he doesn’t like water much.”

“If you can’t be in the water during the heat,” Aragorn continued, “or safe at home, you need to be in the shade as much as possible, and drink a lot more than you usually do.”

“I will.” Frodo gulped down more water. “It feels so nice in here. How did you even know about this cellar and the ice?”

“You don’t remember,” the Ranger said, “but when you were so ill last spring, we used some of this ice to bring down your fever.”

“It sounds as if she’s back there,” Aragorn said, pointing. Unlike every other part of Bag End, lined with wood, brick, or plaster, the back wall of this cellar consisted of a single stone, smooth and -- to a hobbit -- massive. The bottom several feet of the stone, from one end to the other, was obscured by boxes and barrels, and it was this area from which the barking seemed to be coming.

“Scamp must have dug a hole behind the stone wall, somehow,” Frodo said with a grin. “So that’s where she’s been disappearing to. She discovered this nice, cool room, and then just couldn’t help finding someplace to dig.”

“Fine, Bilbo,” Aragorn said as Bilbo came down the steps into the cellar. “Frodo had a bit too much sun, and the ice is helping him to cool off.”

Aragorn gestured to the back wall. “What’s behind the stone? We think Scamp dug her way back there.”

Bilbo looked confused. “I wasn’t aware that there was anything back there. This cellar is as far as my father had The Hill excavated. When the workmen uncovered that huge stone, they saw no point in trying to go any farther.”

Frodo, meanwhile, had gotten to his feet and began to pull barrels and boxes away from the wall, even though the exertion made him feel a bit dizzy.

“Here it is!” Frodo said. Between the solid stone and the brick which insulated the cellar, a space of several feet of well-packed earth had been left untouched -- until now. Frodo got on his knees and investigated a small hole just above the ground. “Scamp somehow found the only part of Bag End not sealed, and decided to excavate.” He reached a hand into the hole, then his whole arm.

“There’s a space back here, Bilbo,” Frodo said, feeling about in the dark hole. “There’s a dirt floor and… ah, there you are.” He triumphantly pulled Scamp out of the hole. “So this is where you’ve been digging, you scoundrel.” He looked up at Bilbo. “There must be a large, empty space behind the stone; when Scamp was barking, she sounded as if she was far away.” He grinned. “Let’s see what’s back there!”

“I’m very curious about this, myself,” Bilbo nodded. “But you’re not to lift another finger, Frodo lad. Sit down and rest, and I’ll get a few shovels and some lanterns.”

“Ah, the famous Baggins adventurous spirit in action,” Aragorn grinned. “I’ll help you, Bilbo.”

It didn’t take long for the two hobbits and one Ranger to enlarge the hole Scamp had made so that it was big enough for even Aragorn to crawl through. The pup appeared delighted with the whole enterprise, and kept dashing in and out of the ever-widening hole.

“That’s it,” Bilbo said at last, breathing hard. He scraped away a last bit of dirt, and tried to peer into the dark hole. “There does seem to be a chamber of some kind behind this wall. Who would have guessed?”

“Here, Bilbo,” Frodo said, handing his uncle a lit lantern. He gave another to Aragorn, and he and Sam shared the third. Bilbo bent down and disappeared into the cavity. An excited Frodo and Sam followed, and Aragorn crawled through last.

The dark, musty space behind the stone was not large, perhaps roughly eight feet square, and Aragorn found that the ceiling was high enough to allow him to stand up straight. The walls and ceiling were a packed tumble of dirt and rocks and tree roots, and the floor was littered with small stones and drifts of soil.

Bilbo, Aragorn, and Frodo held their lanterns high and looked around them, amazed. Colored lights seemed to be sparkling everywhere.

“What is causing this?” Bilbo asked, puzzled. “I don’t see anything embedded in the walls or floor that could be reflecting the lanterns’ light. Look at all these colors!”

Bilbo turned around, as did the others, and for the first time they beheld what was on this side of the enormous stone. The front of the stone, which faced the cellar, was smooth and featureless, but the back…

“Amazing,” Bilbo said. “Estel, have you ever seen anything like this before? Estel?”

“Yes,” Aragorn whispered at last, unable to tear his eyes away from the stone. “Bilbo, please -- may I be left alone in here… for awhile?”

“Of course.” Bilbo put his lantern on the ground near the Ranger. “Frodo, Sam, let’s---”

Frodo had started to feel dizzy again, and worse than before. He swayed slightly, and felt Bilbo take the lantern from his hand and steady him. Aragorn knelt in front of Frodo and looked at him closely.

“Frodo, you should lie down for a few hours at least, and keep drinking as much water as you can.”

“He’ll be all right, Bilbo,” Aragorn assured the old hobbit. “He’s not yet fully recovered from the heat, and the air in this chamber is not the best.”

“You’re as stubborn as any Baggins who ever lived, my boy,” Bilbo chuckled, “but this stone isn’t going anywhere. Let’s leave Estel to study it.” He led Frodo back to the hole in the wall. “Come on, Sam, you can return later after supper. Don’t tell anyone about this until we know what it means, agreed?”

“You can count on me,” Sam declared. “Come on, Mr. Frodo… bend down a bit more… let Mr. Bilbo help you…”

Aragorn was left alone. He arranged the lanterns as best he could to throw maximum light on the stone, then just gazed for a long time at the sight before him, shaking his head in wonder.

Aiko-chan: Good point! I wonder if Aragorn ever does forget what name he’s supposed to use as he travels about Middle-earth. Poor guy.

Ailsa Joy: I should have said something about Scamp trying to dig to… Rivendell -- or wherever a hobbit tween thinks is the other side of the world!

Ainu Laire: It’s almost too cute! But I just… can’t… stop… (And thank you for such a lovely review for “Sing Me Home’, among others!)

Antipodean Opaleye: I feel that one of the ways to build a trusting and collaborative relationship with readers (hugs readers) is to update regularly, no matter how difficult it may be to do so. Regular updates keep the story flowing for everyone (including me), and I truly appreciate you mentioning it.

aprilkat: I can’t get enough of Frodo “loved and sweet and happy”, and it’s amazing to find out how many other folks feel the same way. (And yes, I do have an angsty story that wants me to write it next -- I seem to alternate between angst and non-angst.)

Baylor: Thank you so much. Frodo would be anxious to make Scamp’s status ‘official’, especially since he had such an ‘unofficial’ childhood himself.

Budgielover: Actually, I don’t plan to introduce anything about Scamp’s potty training (or a lack thereof)… let’s just say that she has been miraculously trained enough to wait to “go outside” until morning, and has a nice potty break every evening before bed! Ah well… maybe someone else will have to write about the angst-filled moments of puppy-training in the Shire!

Cantora: Thanks for the pat on the head! Just for that, you get… Chapter 3!

cpsings4him: I’m happy to hear from you! I just can’t resist that “adorable Baggins boy”, myself.

CyborgSmeet: If it makes you feel more secure, Scamp does stay healthy. Thank you for being worried about her!

Darth Stitch: Thanks, Darth -- I just couldn’t leave the “Quarantined” universe alone!

Elven Kitten: Thank you. I didn’t think any cat lovers would come anywhere near this fic!

Erisinia Gazelle: This makes me want a puppy, too! I’ll have to enjoy Frodo’s, though, since my apartment manager doesn’t allow pets. “Reunion in Minas Tirith” was your intro to LOTR fanfic? Wow -- I’m so glad I wrote that crazy story! (And thank you for defining “glomp” for me -- I’m still getting used to all these wonderful new words.)

GamgeeFest: Oh, I’m so glad you’re having a good time with “Quarantined”. I think it’ll really add a lot to your enjoyment of this sequel (and to “By Chance or Purpose”, the other sequel!). (I’ll bet everyone who read about the troll cookies pictured them differently.)

Gentle Hobbit: Frodo and I had such fun writing that “legal document”.

Giu: Thanks, Giu. I learned to write from reading, studying, and re-reading stories I loved, and trying to emulate them. Over the past two years I feel I’ve improved, and the most useful tools have been paying attention to feedback; getting a skilled and honest beta/proofreader; writing, writing, and re-writing until a chapter is exactly right; and thinking about hobbits day and night. Pippin is only about a year old in this storyline, and Merry is about eight -- I don’t anticipate either of them being in this rather short tale, but they’ll both appear in my next (rather angsty) story. The easiest way to know when I’ve updated is to sign up for the (free) author alerts at storiesofarda.com.

GTA Otaku: I wish I could have signed that document, as well. With you and me both there, Frodo would only have needed one other witness to make it really official.

hobbitfeet13: Your reviews are very thoughtful, and I appreciate them very much. It was a challenge to try to invent a ‘hobbity’ document that sounded official, yet worded as a tweenager might.

Hobbit Lily Baggins: This warm, teasing, comfortable relationship between Frodo and Aragorn is a real joy for both of them -- I love helping them to have such happy times together.

horseblaze: I’m glad this little tale is so soothing -- I really wanted it to be that way.

Jaimi: I love the lighthearted teasing, too -- I can’t seem to stop writing about it!

Lady of Ithilien: You’re allowed to squeal when Aragorn appears -- it’s just part of his warm welcome to Bag End.

Leah Beth: Your review put such a big smile on my face. It’s been a long time since I had a dog (20 years), so I’m glad Scamp is as puppyish as she should be.

LilyBaggins: I adore the cuteness of dachshunds, especially short-haired mini ones. It was fun trying to figure out what a hobbit document would be like, and how a tweenager would write one. (Oh wow, this maybe isn’t fluff?)

Lindelea: Thank you so much for highlighting so many lines of dialogue -- it’s wonderful to know that things are working, and that the characters are “real” and believable.

lovethosehobbits: “Lighthearted” is precisely what I was going for -- just a sweet, gentle tale. I’m so happy you’re enjoying it, tree.

Meethrill: Thank you! This fic, in particular, is meant to be just that -- peaceful, calm, and happy.

Megz23: As I had planned it, Estel wasn’t originally “scheduled to appear” until chapter 3 -- but everyone was so anxious to see him, he arrived in chapter 2!

Melylott S. Banks: This story is so much fun to write -- and it makes you squee! That’s very encouraging.

Midgette: Frodo has definitely opened his heart now to dogs (or puppies, at least). Good old Scamp.

Mysterious Jedi: You’re just too kind. (And this is giving me an excuse to re-read “Quarantined”, as well!)

Namarie02: Believe it or not, I honestly don’t know how long my fics will run, even as I’m writing them. Will this one be four chapters? Ten? We’ll all find out together! Thank you so much for wanting it to be long -- what a lovely compliment. And oh, “serenity and joy” -- sigh. Anytime I can give those to Frodo (and Estel, and others), I will.

Nilmandra: Two dogs and three cats! And almost a bird, too? Actually, that sounds so cozy -- but if it was me, I wouldn’t have gotten a wink of sleep since I squirm around a lot, and would have disturbed one or all of the honored guests. They would have thrown me out in disgust and taken the whole bed for themselves. Maybe I could have used that dog crate of yours? (Seriously, though, I’m so happy you like the story!)

Nobody: You make me so happy when you say that something I write cheers up your day.

Obelia medusa: I’m so glad you’re on the mend, Obelia. And I enjoyed hearing about your roommates’s cat -- a true scamp!

OverCastDay: I love that quote from the DVD commentary! Hobbits do have dogs -- at least, Farmer Cotton did. In The Return of the King, when the Travellers returned to the Shire and Sam rode to the Cotton farm, it states, “In front of him lights sprang out in the gloaming; dogs barked; feet came running.”

Pearl Took: Oh Pearl, I’m sorry that life is gloomy for you just now -- we all go through it. I’m sending you hugs, puppies, and happy thoughts.

Raven Aorla: I’m so glad this story feels ‘cuddly’ -- I wanted to write one that was just warm, loving, and relaxing to read.

Sandy K: I don’t think anyone ever said before that they wanted to ‘snuggle’ with one of my stories! (And maybe you shouldn’t let Miranda read this -- there’ll be a puppy on board before you can say “Stop chewing on that!”)

Scottish Hobbit: Ah, my writings aren’t in vain if Frodo is beginning to grow on you. In this “universe”, he and Aragorn really bring out the best in one another, and I love exploring it.

Shireling: I do love the teasing! I like to think that Frodo awakens Aragorn’s ‘lighter side’.

Tathar: There had to be a reunion, if only for young Frodo to get another chance to leap joyously into Aragorn’s arms! (And I’d love to have a tiny dog, as well. Someday…)

wanequelle: I love the idea of Scamp chewing up Gandalf’s hat! I wish I had thought of that!

Notes for Chapter 4: Many thanks to Nilmandra for reminding me about “tug”, and for helping me to picture the northern lands of Middle-earth in the First Age. Thanks also to Treehugger and Nilmandra for help with the Elvish in this chapter.

“Much better.” Frodo sat up and looked around the bed. “Where’s Scamp?”

“Estel is entertaining her. Or I should say, she’s entertaining him.” Bilbo said. “You needed to rest, and I thought you might fall asleep easier if she wasn’t bouncing around the room.”

“She doesn’t bother me,” Frodo said, his blue eyes sparkling. “I didn’t think I could ever get used to having a dog around, but I just love it -- and her.”

“She tricked us, you know,” Frodo informed him. “That first night, at the Cottons’, when she was so quiet and sleepy? All an act.”

“Sounds like a young hobbit I know,” Bilbo chuckled. “Such a gentle and scholarly lad, but on the inside there’s such courage and spirit, and the ability to accomplish anything he sets his mind to.”

Frodo suddenly threw his arms around the old hobbit. “I never even said ‘thank you’, Bilbo. Scamp needed a real home just like I did. How did you know I could get over my fear long enough to get to know her?”

Bilbo hugged Frodo tightly. “I just knew, Frodo lad. You have such a big heart… and it’s so wonderful to have someone to love.” He drew back and gazed at Frodo, his eyes wet. “I know how wonderful it is, for me.”

“Oh Bilbo,” Frodo said softly, “I’m so lucky.” He grinned suddenly. “You haven’t discovered anything new while I was asleep, did you? Have you sent out a call for the Dwarves to level The Hill?”

When Frodo came to the dining room, he found Aragorn sitting on the floor with Scamp. He was pulling gently on a rope of knotted-together rags, with Scamp firmly attached to the other end by her teeth. She was pulled back and forth, never letting go, growling deep in her throat.

“Not at all,” Aragorn grinned. “She’d let go if she wanted to. She’s enjoying this -- see how her tail is wagging? Puppies like to bite and chew things; it feels good on their gums and teeth.” Frodo sat next to him, the sight of the big Man and the tiny pup playing together bringing a smile to his lips. He took the rope from Aragorn, surprised at how powerful the puppy’s tugs felt.

“I didn’t know she knew how to growl,” Frodo said in amazement. He pulled a little harder. “Let go, you crazy dog.”

“She’s quite stubborn,” Aragorn observed, “just like a Baggins.” He looked at Frodo. “I’m glad you rested.”

“So am I,” Frodo replied. “But when are you going to tell us what you know about the stone?”

“After supper,” Aragorn said quietly. “I’ll tell you everything -- or at least… everything I can tell you.”

Frodo tore into Bilbo’s roast chicken and potatoes, fresh greens, and lemon cake, partly from hunger and partly out of excitement to finish quickly, go back to the stone-chamber, and hear the Ranger’s story. Aragorn continued to be amazed at how much hobbits ate, and how often, but he savored Bilbo’s wonderful meals every bit as much as Frodo, and the feeling of ‘home’ that surrounded him.

Just as Frodo and Bilbo were clearing away the dishes, and insisting that Aragorn not help them, there was a knock at the door, and Frodo ran to answer it. He returned to the dining room with Sam in tow.

“You said to come back after supper, Mr. Bilbo,” Sam said. Scamp ran over to him, dragging her new toy and laying it at his feet. “Am I too early?”

“Perfect timing, Samwise,” Bilbo smiled. “Let’s take a closer look at what this old Hill has been hiding all these years.”

“Try to take it,” Frodo advised. Sam gingerly picked up one damp end, and Scamp instantly clamped onto the other end, pulling and growling.

“Is this what you’re teachin’ her, Mr. Frodo?” Sam grinned. “How to chew things? I thought she already knew how to do that right well, considerin’ what you brought my ma.”

“It’s nothing, Bilbo,” Frodo said hastily. He shot Sam a warning look, then tried to pull Aragorn up from his seat. “Please, Estel, can’t we go now?”

“This is your home, Frodo,” Aragorn smiled, rising to his feet. “It is I who should ask permission of you and Bilbo to come and go.”

‘You certainly have my permission,” Bilbo laughed. “I’m as curious as Frodo and Sam to find out what you know.”

“That stone holds something very, very special,” Aragorn said quietly, “and is older than you can imagine.”

Even in the inadequate light of the lanterns, Frodo could see that the woman in the carving was beautiful -- more than beautiful. Her long hair, thick and wavy, appeared to stir slightly in an unseen breeze. Her gown fell to her feet, sleeves full and draping softly downwards. Slender, delicate arms reached out for someone or something to her left, her expression luminous and haunting. The image carved into the stone was a work of exquisite craft, and Frodo gazed in wonder at loveliness he had never imagined. The artist had worked delicate strands of silver and gold into the rock itself, making hair, gown, and mantle shimmer.

The necklace around the woman’s throat caught the eye, and held it. Tiny, colored gems set amidst strand upon interwoven strand of gold gave it a nearly hypnotic quality, and cast brilliant sparks about the cavern. The necklace appeared large and bulky, but about the woman’s throat it somehow rested with grace and did not seem a burden.

But even the gems in the woman’s hair and necklace were outshone by the single large, faceted crystal caught in the center of the necklace, which radiated fiery sparks and a near-blinding radiance.

Together, the effect of the woman’s loveliness and the glittering, exquisite necklace were almost too much to encompass, and no one spoke for many moments. If the image was life-sized, then the woman had been taller even than Aragorn, who stood before it, reverently.

“Such a lovely face,” Bilbo murmured at last. He gazed in awe at the woman’s perfect features, at the eyes which reflected light and longing and deep wisdom.

“Lúthien lived -- and died -- in the First Age, Sam,” Aragorn replied. “Perhaps you will hear her story told in full, some day. She was the daughter of Elf and Maia, and fell in love with a mortal -- Beren, son of Barahir. Their story is one of the great tales of all time.”

“Lúthien chose mortality,” Aragorn said softly. “Her Elvish decendents, although there were few, have had the same choice given to them -- whether to live as Elf or mortal.”

“Lord Elrond’s daughter is said to have been born in the likeness of Lúthien,” Aragorn replied. “I see that the tales are true -- she bears a strong resemblance to this image. Lúthien was her great-great grandmother. But it is not just the resemblance that tells me who this is, but the necklace the stone carver has shown her wearing.”

“Such a necklace would have surpassed anything I saw in Smaug’s hoard,” Bilbo said, raising his lantern higher. “Was it of Dwarvish make?”

“You have a good eye, Bilbo,” Aragorn said. “This represents the Nauglamír.”

“I remember that ‘mír’ is “jewel”,” said Frodo thoughtfully, remembering the word from Aragorn’s Elvish phrasebook, “but what does---”

“That’s very good,” Aragorn said approvingly. “Nauglamír means ‘dwarf jewel,’ or as it is more usually called, ‘dwarf necklace’. The gems in the original necklace were from Valinor, and it is said that the virtue of those jewels caused the heavy gold to sit lightly upon the neck, and enhanced the beauty of those who wore it. When Lúthien and Beren died, the necklace was passed down to their son, Dior, and then to his daughter, Elwing. The Nauglamír was the cause of great strife between Dwarves and Elves, and bitterness remains between them, to this day.”

“It is said that Elwing’s husband, Eärendil, wears this necklace still,” Aragorn continued. “He has the great jewel you see here represented in crystal -- one of the Silmarili of Fëanor -- bound to his brow. It is that very jewel that we see at night -- Eärendil’s star, beloved of the Elves.”

“If the necklace had not been taken to the stars,” Frodo asked, “who would now wear it?”

“Lord Elrond,” Aragorn replied, “for he is Elwing’s only living son. Or perhaps Elrond’s daughter…” He became lost in thought for a moment, then came out of his reverie and smiled down at the hobbits. “Better that it circle above us, forever out of reach, than be the cause of more death and grief. Rivendell would not be the haven it is, perhaps, if the Nauglamír rested there, a temptation to those who might seek it, still.” He looked thoughtful. “Rivendell remains a place of great peace, and may it always be so.”

Frodo saw that Sam was frowning in concentration, and he assumed that too many Elvish names had flown too quickly past his young friend’s head -- but that wasn’t what was bothering Sam.

“Mr. Bilbo,” Sam said suddenly, “maybe this lady is buried here, beneath the stone!”

“Bag End is no barrow, Sam.” Aragorn smiled and picked up Scamp, who was chewing contentedly on one of his bootlaces. “If there were bodies here, however ancient, I suspect that Scamp’s nose and senses would have detected them. No,” he continued, “although no one knows the final resting place of Beren and Lúthien the Fair, they traveled only a short time in the north. For the most part, they lived south and west of here, in lands now drowned under the Sea, and most likely died there, as well. Their bodies will not be found, and their final days are unknown to us.”

“Who made this?” Bilbo asked after a moment, tracing a finger along the intricate carving. “This is the work of a master craftsman.”

“I doubt we will ever know,” Aragorn sighed. “I do not think it was the work of Elves, for their memories would hold the image of Lúthien forever fresh and would not need to represent her in detail such as this. I suspect that an artisan among Men, one of those who would have lived in this area back then, caught sight of Lúthien and captured her likeness so as not to forget it.” He looked around the chamber. “Either this stone was once open to the sky, and this hill yet to be, or perhaps this was an ancient cave or opening in the hill. Somehow, over the many Ages and changings of the World, all knowledge of this carving was lost.” He gazed at the woman’s face. “You are not forgotten,” he murmured.

“I wish we could see this in full sunlight,” Bilbo said wistfully. “I suppose no one ever will again.”

“Lúthien and Beren did not live to see the Second Age,” Aragorn replied thoughtfully. He handed Scamp to Frodo and held his lantern as close as possible to the image. “If this was carved when they lived, it is older than 6,000 years -- perhaps much older. I have heard no tales that they traveled in the north after Lúthien came to wear the necklace, but it must have been so. Only someone who had seen her in truth could have made such a detailed carving, or been moved to do so.” He looked around the chamber. “We cannot know how or when this stone was covered over and the hill grew around it, but the image has been protected over the Ages, marred by neither wind nor weather. The image is as it was.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Lúthien namarië,” he murmured, “le cuinar ned gur-nîn.”

Frodo, who had been cradling Scamp in his arms, grinned down at the pup. “Look what you found, you rascal,” he said fondly.

“This is purely wonderful,” Sam said happily. “To think that this stone has been sittin’ here all the time, hidin’ its secrets. And maybe the other one, too?”

“He’s right, Bilbo,” Frodo said suddenly. “Can’t we dig behind the other one?”

Lúthien wearing that necklace and that immortal jewel was the vision of greatest beauty and glory that has ever been outside the realm of Valinor. The Silmarillion

“Lúthien namarië. Le cuinar ned gur-nîn.” [Fare well, Lúthien. You live in my heart.]

Chapter 5 will most likely not be posted as quickly as the past four chapters have been, since my longer work hours are giving me less time to write -- but I’ll write/post it as soon as I can!

Ailsa Joy: I’m in love with that pup, too! I didn’t think I’d get so attached to her, but that little waggy tail and slurpy tongue… sigh. I wanna puppy.

angelsflame265: I hope you’ve had a nap (and a snack or two) while you were waiting for Chapter 4. What a loyal reader!

aprilkat: However did that h/c get into the story? Snuck in right behind my back, it did.

Aratlithiel1: You do not want a puppy. Just keep telling yourself that… And thank you! It wasn’t easy thinking of a way to get them all into the cellar. Good old h/c always fixes everything.

Arwen Baggins: Good guesses! Since Men, Elves, and Dwarves all roamed the north at one time, I had a lot to think about in choosing the artifact. (And just to clarify, in the first paragraph of BCOP, it says that Aragorn last saw Frodo when he (Frodo) was 35. There were visits up until that time, and this is one of them.)

AshNight2: I love writing “gentle and happy” fics to balance out the angsty ones. Give Merry a pat for me.

Belothien: Belothien! Oh yay, the cuteness and cuddlyness is helping to put a smile on your face! (strolls off, munching on new cookie supply…)

ClaudiaofBree: The only thing cuter than Frodo fainting in Aragorn’s arms would have been him fainting and Scamp racing home to tell Aragorn where to find him. (Lassie Come Home!)

cpsings4him: I’m glad Scamp is acting appropriately puppyish! (I couldn’t read her your whole review, though -- if she knew that you called chapter 3 ‘delicious’, she’d start chewing on it.)

Dara Maeko: I’m writing as fast as I can, Dara! How do these cliffhangers get into my stories, anyway? Just can’t figure it out…

Elentari*angel: Glad you like the “cuddly” relationships. They may not be canon, but they make me happy. (And no, there won’t be any heat exhaustion complications for Frodo -- this is a short story, so there’s just a short bit ’o angst!)

Emerald Phoenix2: And here’s the resolution to the mystery (or most of it, anyway). Hope you like it!

Erisinia Gazelle: By golly, that was a cliffhanger, wasn’t it? *looks innocent* And the fluff thickens!

Firnsarnien: Glad you’re enjoying Scamp and her sharp little teeth, that rascal. And I enjoy showing the “nurturing” side of Aragorn -- if he’s going to someday take care of all Middle-earth, he should be able to take care of one adorable hobbit lad. (I also find that the “author alerts” from fanfiction.net are a bit unreliable. I get some, but not others.)

Gentle Hobbit: I’d love to know what you saw in Japan! This chapter reveals half the mystery, but there’s still one more puzzle piece to go.

girlofring: Most of the mystery is revealed in this chapter, with just a bit more to go. Glad you’re enjoying the story!

Giu: Thank you for reading, Giu! I’m glad you’re enjoying my stories. (I’m pretty sparing with cliffhangers, usually… but sometimes a chapter just naturally ends with a bit of mystery.)

Grav: I had to get trolls in here somewhere, you know! And you’re so perceptive, I’ll share a secret with you… When I was writing “Master of Bag End”, I wanted to have a chapter where there was a discovery in one of the cellars. I couldn’t quite get it figured out, so Pippin was told a “ghost story” instead. I’m finally using the “what’s in the cellar” idea in this story. It’s amazing how long it sometimes takes for an idea to gel… and how many steps it takes to get to it.

Hai Took: That Hamfast Gamgee is a feisty one, isn’t he? I like the whole Gamgee family, too.

hobbitfeet13: It was just a wee bit of sickness, though! I had to get them all down in that cellar somehow, and needing ice for something -- or someone -- was the best plot device I could think of. (And you were right, the mystery is something from The Silmarillion -- clever girl! Tough book to read, isn’t it? The first third of it goes pretty smoothly, but then the complex pre-history of Middle-earth becomes a bit overwhelming.)

Hobbit Lily Baggins: I never intended that this simple story would have cliffhangers, but… that Scamp! It’s all her fault.

Insane Pineapple from Naboo: Glad to give you a new story with ‘your’ Ranger!

Jaimi: At least the cliffie got resolved in the very next chapter! Well, most of it, anyway…

Kandice: Ah, not all cliffhangers are an evil! (But yes, sigh… some are. I admit it.)

katakanadian: Ooh, you’re describing a geode -- and what a great idea that would have been!

Lady of Ithilien: You’re right -- Bilbo never had to leave home to find adventure! Silly hobbit. Oh gosh, I’m glad this story is “fun”; when I started it, I didn’t know what it was going to be!

Leah Beth: I’m glad the fainting sounded realistic, because I went through the exact experience. I once fainted from the heat, and Frodo’s symptoms -- everything sounding and looking strange, then… blackout -- were exactly what happened to me. No, this isn’t a hurt/comfort story, but I had to get them all down in that cellar somehow, and needing ice for something -- or someone -- was the best plot device I could think of.

LilyBaggins: Fainting Frodo… how’d that happen? (And I hope the discovery is “amazingly ancient and rare” enough for you!)

Melylott S. Banks: I will always have comfort for Frodo! (I hated to put even light angst into this story, but I had to get them all down into that cellar somehow, and needing ice for something -- or someone -- was the best plot device I could think of.)

Namarie02: Scamp is wonderful for Frodo, isn’t she? I’m glad they have each other!

Nilmandra: Your pets sound so cozy, I almost wish my bed was full of them, too!

Pearl Took: And it’s fun to write a mystery, too; even a short, puppyish one!

powerwriter: I’m definitely drawn to a sweet Frodo-Aragorn relationship -- no doubt about it. Oh Nina, I just don’t have the time. But thank you.

Sam: Thank you for calling my stories ‘hobbity’! I hope they always feel that way.

San Antonio Rose: I’ve read stories where the Gamgee home is not happy, and the Gaffer is a bit abusive, and it’s just not my vision of them. I believe that Sam was a good and loving father to his brood of 13 because he had good and loving parents. I’ve had heat exhaustion too, and Frodo’s symptoms were taken from my own experience. And… my gosh! What an insightful comment about the swamp malaise -- I never thought of that!

Sandy K: I actually didn’t have any angst or illness planned for this story originally, but then I realized that I had to get them all down into that cellar somehow, and needing ice for something -- or someone -- was the best plot device I could think of. See? My intentions were honorable -- but once a FrodoHealer, always a FrodoHealer!

Shireling: At least Frodo wasn’t ‘down and out’ long this time! Short story, short angst…

Taraisilwen: Isn’t it fun to “meet everyone again”? I suspect that I’ll have to re-visit this ‘universe’ every once in a while, and bring all of you with me.

Tathar: I, too, believe that Frodo engendered loyalty and devotion all around him. Why else would his cousins (wth everything to lose) and an Elf and a Dwarf (who barely knew him) follow him into Darkness and the unknown?

wanequelle: How could the whole Gamgee clan not want a puppy? Scamp is such a cutie.

(If any of you have sent me e-mails in the past weeks with a subject line of only “Hello!” or “A question for you”, I have had to delete them without reading due to the recent e-mail viruses. Please always be very specific in your subject line when e-mailing folks, especially now that we all have to be so careful.)

Notes for Chapter 5: Appendix B to ROTK states that Aragorn gave Arwen the Ring of Barahir when he was 49 (unlike in the movie, where he’s still wearing it). Thanks to Kookaburra for telling me how far a horse and rider can comfortably travel in a day. And grateful hugs to my mom -- not only for a terrific beta job on each and every chapter, but for the wonderful ideas and insights that are making this a better story.

The beginning of Hobbits lies far back in the Elder Days that are now lost and forgotten. The Fellowship of the Ring

“It’s not what you think, Estel,” Frodo warned him as they left the chamber. “I don’t know how we’re going to get behind the other one.” He led Aragorn, with Sam and Bilbo (and Scamp) following behind, back through the cellar, up the steps, and further down Bag End’s main corridor. Ducking into a small storage pantry, he held up his lantern to show Aragorn the back wall. It, too, showed a smooth stone rising up from the floor, but only for a few feet. The walls of this pantry, unlike those of the deep cellar, were completely sealed, and the stone (or what could be seen of it) was surrounded by brick.

“The ice cellar is much lower than this room,” Bilbo remarked, coming to join them. “The top of this stone is at about the same level as the other, but the top is all that can be seen of this one.”

“Can’t we just knock out some bricks?” Frodo asked eagerly. “Then you can lower me down, and--”

Bilbo tapped his lantern against the bricks, trying to hear a hollow sound. “Frodo, we don’t know that there is another chamber behind this stone; it could be resting against solid earth.”

“Besides,” Aragorn said with obvious regret, “I don’t want to be the cause of you dismantling your home, even if just a few bricks.”

“Do you think we can stop now?” Bilbo asked, staring up at the Ranger in disbelief. “You certainly have a lot to learn about Bagginses.” He gazed thoughtfully at the wall. “If we just knocked out a few bricks…”

“Mr. Bilbo,” he said slowly, “can’t we just go back to that stone chamber, dig through the side wall a bit, and see if we break through to a chamber where the bottom of this stone sits?”

“It’s a clever idea, Sam,” Aragorn smiled, “but there may not be any chamber below us to find.”

“Not until morning,” Bilbo said. “Sam needs to get home, and you have studying to do, Frodo lad.”

“That’s why you’re still just an honorary Baggins, Estel,” Frodo grinned. “You have no sense of adventure!”

“Appalling.” Bilbo shook his head in mock dismay. “No curiosity at all.”

“I wish I didn’t have to leave tomorrow,” Aragorn said regretfully. “I had only planned to stay a few days. But…” He held up a hand to forestall Frodo’s protest. “… I can certainly stay long enough to help you dig a bit, and see… whatever there is to see.”

Frodo nodded and hurried Sam out of the pantry, leaving Bilbo and Aragorn talking quietly behind them. Racing to the front door of Bag End, Frodo opened it, and Sam stepped outside and retrieved, from behind the bushes, a bundle that he pressed into Frodo’s arms.

“My ma was happy to help, Mr. Frodo,” Sam grinned. “She gave it a good wash, too.”

“She did?” Frodo said worriedly. “He’s bound to suspect something, then.”

“You don’t know my ma very well,” Sam declared indignantly, “if you think she’d be lettin’ this leave her house without washin’ it.”

“Thank her for me, Sam, until I can do it myself,” Frodo said gratefully. “I really appreciate her doing me this favor.”

“If Scamp were bigger, and we had more time, we could just sit back and wait,” Frodo observed.

“It would certainly make the job easier,” Aragorn grunted, shoveling away another load of dirt from the growing tunnel. As soon as breakfast was over, and Sam had arrived, the “excavation” had begun. The four friends had dug several feet into the wall of the stone chamber. Even though the hard-packed dirt showed no signs of collapse or stress, Aragorn had insisted on shoring up the hole with the lumber Bilbo had bought for the Gaffer and Sam to fence in the vegetable garden.

“My good fence posts,” Sam sighed, “but I suppose it’s for a good cause.”

“Don’t worry, Sam,” Frodo called from within the hole. “We’ll put everything back where… oh! Bilbo, I’ve broken through! There is another chamber!”

“Come out of there, Frodo,” Aragorn said instantly, pulling the boy back. “Let me make sure it’s safe.” He took Frodo’s shovel, then crawled into the hole and broke down the final bit of earth between the two chambers. Frodo reached in and handed him a lantern, then watched Aragorn enter the second chamber. He started to follow, but Bilbo held him back.

“Give him a moment, Frodo lad,” Bilbo said softly. “These discoveries seem to mean a great deal to him.”

Indeed, it was several minutes before Aragorn called for them to come. The three hobbits entered the second, more cramped chamber, and held their lanterns high.

The back of the second stone had fared less well than the first, and was stained and cracked from rivulets of water that had found their way down from the surface. Even so, the somewhat blurred image of a Man could still be seen. His clothes appeared to be a simple tunic and trousers.

Although the color of the Man’s hair could not be determined, it was long, and framed a face both strong and handsome. He was tall, taller than Aragorn -- and was gazing to his right, towards the first stone, his features captured in a smile.

“Yes.” Aragorn’s fingers lingered on a ring on the Man’s left hand, set with tiny green jewels -- the only gems that could be seen anywhere on the carving. Everyone was silent for a few moments, as the Ranger seemed to be overcome with some emotion he struggled to mask.

“He was very handsome,” Bilbo said. “What a stunning couple they must have made.”

“They should be together,” Frodo declared. “Bilbo, can’t we dig out the whole chamber so Lúthien and Beren can see each other again?”

“That’s a lovely sentiment, my boy,” Bilbo smiled. “Perhaps we can do that, someday.”

“He lost it, Sam,” Aragorn replied gravely, “on a quest that nearly cost him his life.” He touched the carving gently. “Whenever I think my road is too long, or my trials too burdensome,” he continued quietly, “or I grow impatient for… certain things to come to pass, I remember Beren, and what he endured to fulfill his oaths, and to at last find peace and joy with she whom he loved.”

“My uncle’s friend lost his hand in a farming accident,” Sam told him. “He nearly died.”

“Beren nearly died, more than once,” Aragorn sighed. “He overcame foes and Darkness unimaginable.” He smiled at the hobbits. “It is hard to imagine such fearsome times, in the gentleness and peace of the Shire.”

“Where were we, then?” persisted Frodo. “How did hobbits come to be in Middle-earth? Bilbo has taught me that Men, Elves, and even Dwarves come into the oldest tales, and can trace their stories back to the First Age. Did hobbits just spring up out of the ground one day?”

“That’s a good question, and one you might take up with Lord Elrond, should you meet him,” Aragorn replied, “or Gandalf might have an answer. I am sorry, little one, but I do not know. Bilbo?”

“Our tales go back to the founding of the Shire,” Bilbo said thoughtfully, “but there is not much remembered from before that time.”

“We’re here now, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said, coming to his friend’s side. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I suppose it’ll have to be,” Frodo sighed. “Why do I always have so many questions that need answering?”

“Because you’re a Baggins,” said Aragorn and Bilbo together, and all four burst out laughing.

It was time for Aragorn to leave. Frodo, Bilbo, and Sam, each carrying a basket or bundle, went with him to the field where Arthad waited patiently.

“Now that’s a sight!” Sam said. Arthad had bent his head to inspect the tiny dog at his feet. Scamp was very quiet as the huge animal nosed her gently, then the horse raised her head and paid no more attention to the pup. Scamp stayed where she was, sniffing a bit at the fresh earth beneath the tree that had been disturbed by the horse’s hooves. Choosing a spot, she began to dig, dirt flying everywhere.

“Except running out of places to dig,” Frodo grinned. “There may not be much left of the Shire by the time you visit again, Estel.”

“Thank you, Bilbo.” Aragorn lifted the basket of food that Bilbo had packed for him and fastened it to Arthad’s saddlebags. “You’re very generous.”

“Here you go,” Sam said cheerfully, handing up the bundle, “good as new.”

“Good as new?” Aragorn took the cloak and, to Frodo’s relief, stuffed it into a saddle bag without really looking at it. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Frodo said quickly, then gave the Ranger a number of thin, leather strips.

“Thank you,” Aragorn said, puzzled, “but it doesn’t need---” He bent to look closer at his pack laces, and smiled. “I see.”

“Eventually,” Aragorn assured him. He took the rolled-up parchment that Bilbo handed him. “What’s this?”

“I’ve been making a drawing of the woman in the carving,” Bilbo explained proudly. “I think it’s quite good -- perhaps you can show it to the Elves who remember her, and see what they think of it.”

“That’s beautiful, Mr. Bilbo,” Sam said admiringly. “It looks just like her.”

“It does indeed,” Aragorn agreed. “As a matter of fact, Bilbo, I may have an opportunity to show this to someone sooner than you think. I am on my way to the Havens, to deliver a message from Lord Elrond. Several Elves who dwell there have been in Middle-earth since the First Age, and I would very much like to show this to them.”

“You’re traveling beyond the Tower Hills?” asked Frodo eagerly. “May I come with you?”

“Not this time,” Aragorn smiled at the boy fondly. “I have tarried here, and must press on. It is a week’s ride, at least.”

“I will try,” Aragorn said, “but I cannot promise, Frodo. My path is not always known to me in advance.”

“They are, aren’t they?” Aragorn laughed. He shook Bilbo’s hand, hugged each boy in turn, and mounted Arthad. Frodo plucked Scamp out from under the horse’s hooves, and watched as the Ranger rode away.

Aiko-chan: You’ll be thrilled to learn that the lemon cake returns in Chapter 6.

Ailsa Joy: Oh yes, Scamp was perfectly delighted with the carving! I’m sure she felt quite smug about being the one to discover it.

Ainu Laire: Thanks for the thoughtful review. Actually, hobbits do lock their doors -- in the chapter “Three is Company” of FOTR, Frodo gives Lobelia the key to Bag End, and leaves the spare key with the Gamgees. I appreciate the Elvish correction; I do the best I can with no ‘education’ in this area! (But since Aragorn can probably speak both Quenya and Sindarin, couldn’t he mix the words a bit, once in a while? :-D)

aprilkat: It’s amazing how Prof. Tolkien connected all these stories, from the very beginning, until at last Frodo has in his possession a reflection of Eärendil’s star -- a silmaril from the First Age. *bows deeply, yet again, to the genius that is Tolkien*

Arwen Baggins: As usual, your review made me smile.. and think about things. The difficulty in giving a page for any book quote is that different printings of the books have different sized pages (and different sized fonts), and things aren’t on the same page in everyone’s copy. Just in case we have the same version of The Silmarillion, though, the quote from Chapter 4 is on page 283 of my copy. (The quote at the beginning of this chapter is from page 2 of my copy of FOTR.) I have no idea how one learns Elvish! When I need help with a quote, I call on one of my wonderful online friends who’ve made a study of it. (They say that Prof. Tolkien invented 14 separate languages for the races of Middle-earth… incredible.)

Baylor: There are certain parts of The Silmarillion that move me (and some parts that elude me entirely), but the story of Beren and Lúthien is a truly amazing tale. And oh yes, don’t we all wish we could discover something ‘ancient and meaningful’?

Belothien: I never get tired of your reviews, long or short. BTW, you wouldn’t believe the mess Scamp made of your box of cookies. The box, I mean… the cookies were munched up in record time.

Bookworm2000: You’re right -- we’re all related, if you go back far enough! And Lúthien and Beren truly were the ‘mother and father’ of many of the major players in Middle-earth’s history.

Breon Briarwood: When I began this story, I never knew there would be a door #2! It just snuck right in.

BrokenAngel: Oooh, a reader from Middle-earth itself (New Zealand)! I’m honored.

Cantora: I didn’t mean to end Chapter 4 with a cliffhanger, honest! It was either end it there and post it, or wait until I scraped together more time to write. *wags tail at being called a ‘scamp’*

Erisinia Gazelle: You love Bilbo? Really? *grins* Glad the unveiling of the ‘mystery’ was satisfying for you!

Firnsarnien: I’m so happy that the description of the carving was vivid enough. I wish we could all really see such a carving.

GamgeeFest: I like thinking of the Gaffer as one of Frodo’s unofficial “guardians”. He does defend the Bagginses (verbally) in Chapter 1 of FOTR, after all.

Gentle Hobbit: The Silmarillion is such a tough read, I’m finding that research for fics (such as “Sing Me Home” and this one) helps me to focus on small chunks of it at a time.

Grav: Poor Grav, having to wait for chapters now, instead of devouring a whole story in one sitting! I’m so glad you thought Chapter 4 was “worth the wait”.

heartofahobbit: I’m glad everything feels ‘tied together’ and logical; writing a sequel/prequel is a real challenge. Lúthien and Beren truly were the ‘mother and father’ of many of the major players in Middle-earth’s history, and I don’t think they get enough attention.

hobbitfeet13: Unfortunately, Aragorn can’t talk in this story about his relationship with Arwen because in “By Chance or Purpose” the hobbits hear her name for the first time, and discover that she’s Aragorn’s ‘sweetheart’. Ah, the limitations of writing a sequel that’s also a prequel! I have to be true to the ‘universe’ I’ve created.

illyria-pffyffin: No, not too much ‘trouble’ in this story -- this tale is a light, short, and gentle one. (Now my next story will have trouble-aplenty…)

Jaimi: Glad you liked the tug-a-war! We can all thank Nilmandra for that little plot bunny.

jodancingtree: Don’t these stories bring out the research, though! What fun.

Kandice: At least you read The Silmarillion! I still only read it in bits and pieces as needed for story research.

Kit5: I’m a lover of all things lemon, so lemon cake would certainly be a ‘comfort food’ for me.

KT SHY: Thanks, KT! I’m so glad that you’re enjoying this story without having first read “Quarantined”! If you read any of my other stories, I’d love to hear what you think of them.

Leah Beth: I’m so glad that Aragorn’s “history lesson” was understandable. When I began this story, I knew what would be on the stone, but I sure didn’t know if I could do a good enough job describing it.

Leah Day: Thanks, Leah! I’m glad Scamp seems appropriately puppyish. Hugs to Myra!

Lhachel: I thought that a ‘portrait’ of Lúthien would be a bit too fantastical, but I’m so happy that folks are enjoying the idea of it.

LilyBaggins: I was actually an archaeology major, so somebody was bound to dig up something sometime in one of my stories! As usual, this story has evolved a bit from my original idea… I still can’t figure out how that happens.

Mariole: I’m relieved that the descriptions and mysteries are vivid and fun.

Mayberry: I’ve read The Silmarillion several times, but parts of it still boggle me. I’m grateful to fanfiction for helping me to understand it much better than I ordinarily would have.

Meethrill: I’m amazed that the carving was described well enough for folks to ‘picture’ it! When you ask about the ‘material’, are you referring to Aragorn’s cloak with the silver star that he left in Frodo’s room? Chapters 5 and 6 revisit it.

Megz23: Glad I could give you a break from midterms! I remember them well…

Meldewen Ilce: I updated as soon as I could! I’m so glad you’re enjoying the story.

Mish: Thanks, Mish! It wasn’t easy trying to decide what would be on that stone.

Musicstarlover: I’m so glad you’re enjoying this “Quarantined” universe. I’m having a wonderful time with it.

Obelia medusa: When I began writing this story, I never imagined that anyone would call it ‘magical’ or ‘exciting’. Amazing. And the Gaffer has one final scene in Chapter 6 that I hope you enjoy.

Pearl Took: This short story is long on mystery, isn’t it? And thank you, Pearl dear -- I actually am determined to take better care of myself.

Rose Gamgee: Hee hee. ‘My’ Aragorn certainly isn’t canon, but I think Frodo (and a puppy) would work their magic on him. The big softie.

San Antonio Rose: I’m relieved that the description of the carving was vivid enough. I’m so much more comfortable with dialogue than description.

Sandy K: It wasn’t easy to choose a ‘subject’ for the first stone -- I’m so happy it worked.

wanequelle: Omigosh, a tourist attraction! And the Gaffer could chase away the crowds with his pitchfork!

websterans: I’m so glad the emotions rang true in Chapter 4. It was a difficult chapter to get ‘right’.

The End! I knew this story would be a short one, but Scamp may return in a future tale, if the puppy-muse starts barking again. Thanks for enjoying her so much, everyone!

Notes for Chapter 6: This chapter references “Quarantined” Chapters 1 and 14. Although the month of Merry’s birthday (August) is my own invention, the Elf named Arminas is not; he is listed in The Silmarillion as one of the Elves who came to dwell at the Grey Havens with Círdan the Shipwright. My thanks to Karri, from the Stories of Arda discussion group, for sharing with me her thoughts on who might still be alive in Third Age Middle-earth who could have known (or seen) Lúthien in the First Age. And I know some of you are going to want to throw me to the Orcs for not having Sam in this chapter, but -- AU or not -- it’s just too soon for him to see his first Elf.

Frodo also had a tussle with young Sancho Proudfoot . . . who had begun an excavation in the larger pantry, where he thought there was an echo. The Fellowship of the Ring, ‘A Long-Expected Party’

One evening, nearly three weeks after Aragorn had left, Bilbo walked down Hill Lane to Number 3 Bagshot Row. As he had hoped, the Gaffer was sitting outside, enjoying his usual after-dinner pipe and the warm summer night.

“Why Mr. Bilbo! Have a seat, sir,” the Gaffer smiled, patting the bench. “Out enjoyin’ this lovely night?”

“I certainly am,” Bilbo said, sitting down. “I understand Hal and young Sam have been off visiting their uncle. Over in Tighfield, isn’t he?”

“That’s right,” the Gaffer replied. “Hamson’s pretty much made his home up there, and asked if the boys could visit. Hal’s a responsible lad and will see Samwise home safe and sound. They should be back tomorrow or the next day.” He grinned. “Ever since you took Sam campin’ last year, he’s been beggin’ for another trip. It’s good to have family scattered here and yonder for visits now and then.”

“It is, indeed,” Bilbo agreed. “Speaking of family, Frodo and I are planning a trip as well. It’s young Merry Brandybuck’s birthday soon, and Frodo hasn’t seen him in months. They’re quite attached to each other.”

“Master Frodo will enjoy that,” Hamfast nodded. “And I suppose you’ll be takin’ that scrap o’ dog with you?”

“No,” Bilbo laughed. “There are so many people at Brandy Hall, Frodo fears she’ll get trampled or lost.”

“We couldn’t possibly do that,” Bilbo said, pleased with the direction the conversation was going. “We’ll be gone for several weeks, so I was thinking of asking the Cottons if they’d be willing to look after her.”

“The Cottons are good folk, and no mistake,” the Gaffer said slowly, “but Bywater’s clear across The Water from here. That pup’s likely to be homesick and lonesome for folks she knows.”

“Do you think so?” Bilbo frowned. “I don’t know where else she could possibly stay, then, if not with the Cottons. Do you?”

“Well sir, we could look after her, if that would be all right. You’ll only be gone a few weeks, you say? I suppose we could handle her that long.”

“Would you?” Bilbo grinned broadly. “I know that would make Frodo very happy, and Scamp just adores your whole family. But do you think Bell would agree? And the girls?”

“You just leave that to me, Mr. Bilbo,” the Gaffer grinned. “It won’t be easy, but I’m sure I can convince ’em, somehow.”

Frodo was sitting in the parlor reading, Scamp curled up at his feet, when Bilbo returned.

“It’s all set,” Bilbo laughed. “Funny thing is, I don’t remember even having to ask him!”

“I’m so glad.” Frodo looked down at the pup who had begun snuffling and twitching in her sleep. “Whatever do you suppose dogs dream about?”

“The same things as hobbit lads,” Bilbo replied. “Food, friends, adventure. . .”

“I’ll miss her while we’re gone, Bilbo. Isn’t that strange? I never thought I’d miss a dog.”

“Me? Love this crazy pup?” Frodo grinned. “Bilbo, when we leave Scamp at the Gamgees’ we should warn them about---”

There was a soft knock at the door. Bilbo went to answer it, and Frodo followed close behind.

“Estel!” Frodo cried when the door opened. He ran forward as the Ranger entered. “I was hoping you’d come back!”

“So was I,” Aragorn smiled, “but I never imagined I would return so soon.”

A tall figure stood just outside the door, and Frodo’s eyes widened in shock. The person’s fair countenance appeared both old and young, and seemed to shine with its own gentle light.

An Elf, Frodo thought in amazement. Oh, how I wish Sam was here to see this.

“This is Arminas,” Aragorn was saying. “His lord, Círdan, does not leave the grey shores, but Arminas wished to view the carving with his own eyes, and see once again she whom he remembers from so long ago.”

“Mae govannen,” Bilbo said, bowing to the cloaked figure. “Bilbo Baggins, at your service. Please come in, Arminas.”

“I thank you,” Arminas replied, bending low to enter Bag End. His eyes took in what he could see of the unusual dwelling, and he smiled at Bilbo and Frodo. “You are kind to allow this visit.” His soft voice sounded almost musical to Frodo’s ears.

“Mae govannen,” Frodo said, bowing in his turn. He looked up at the Elf, his eyes shining with excitement. “Frodo Baggins, at your service. Did you truly know Lúthien, Arminas?”

“Hobbits come right to the point,” the Ranger smiled. “They have not all the Ages of this world to engage in idle conversation, as do the Elves.”

“I am happy to meet you, Frodo Baggins,” Arminas said. “The memory of Lúthien is a fair one, indeed. None who saw her were unmoved by her beauty, courage, and spirit. We grieve still that she is lost to us.” He smiled suddenly at the sight of Scamp, who was watching him from where she stood next to Frodo. Kneeling, Arminas held out his hand and Scamp instantly came to him, her tail wagging, allowing the long, gentle fingers to stroke and scratch. After a moment, she ran back to Frodo and settled at his feet.

“I see you have a protector,” Araminas smiled. “The spirit of Huan lives still, in the smallest of beings.”

“Huan was a noble and brave hound,” Aragorn explained. “His love for Lúthien was great. He travelled far with Lúthien and Beren, and stood with them through many perils. In the end, he gave his life for them.”

“Would you do that?” Frodo addressed Scamp, who responded by scratching herself vigorously behind the ears.

“Arminas,” Bilbo said, “you are most welcome here. Please take as much time as you wish with the carvings. Estel, can you show him the way? The lanterns are right where we left them.”

Aragorn nodded, then guided the Elf through Bag End and into the cellar. After a short time, he joined Bilbo and Frodo in the kitchen where they were preparing tea and slicing cake for their guests.

“I thought Arminas might like some time alone down there, as I did,” Aragorn remarked, accepting a cup of steaming tea. “It is a rare thing to see an Elf rendered speechless; when one has lived so long as they, I suspect there is little that one has not seen or that can truly surprise.”

“I’m still surprised myself,” Bilbo said, as the three of them sat at the table. “And after this discovery, who knows what other secrets the Shire may hold?”

Frodo grinned. “That’s true, Bilbo. Perhaps we should set Scamp to work digging at all the holes and hills in the neighborhood.” He surreptitiously passed Scamp a bit of cake.

“Bilbo,” Aragorn said seriously, “this is your home, and Frodo’s, and you will do as you wish here; but my advice, if you would have it, is to one day seal that wall, and keep secret this discovery.”

“It is not that I wish for such a treasure to be lost once again,” Aragorn explained, “but to protect you. Although the gems set in the images are not of Valinor, like the originals, they are valuable, nonetheless. The value of such gold, silver, and jewels might tempt even honest men -- or hobbits -- toward theft.”

It was nearly half an hour before Arminas joined them. By then, Frodo was half asleep, leaning against Aragorn and listening to one of his tales, and Scamp was sound asleep under the table. Bilbo poured the Elf some tea, and Arminas sniffed the cup’s contents curiously before tasting it, and smiling his thanks. He sat silently, lost in thought, until he became aware that the others were waiting patiently for him to speak.

“The likeness is remarkable,” Arminas said at last. “I did not know that such artisans among Men existed, and I am truly sorry that I do not know the name of he who captured Lúthien and Beren in such detail. I know of no other image of Lúthien that was ever made.”

“Amazing,” Bilbo mused. “It was only by chance that the carvings were found. Such beauty. . .”

“Bilbo,” Arminas said, “no carving, however accurate, can do justice to Lúthien. The way she moved, danced, sang…” He sighed. “She lives still, in our hearts, and in the songs and memories of our people. And now. . .” He smiled at the hobbits. “. . .she will live in your memories, as well. Her image lies among gracious and generous folk.”

“Tell us of the Havens,” Frodo urged. “Bilbo’s maps don’t show anything west of the Tower Hills. Do you live there with your family?”

“Alas, no. My family perished in a battle long ago,” Arminas said gravely. “Dagor Bragollach, it was called; we fought Morgoth’s armies, and many died, both Elves and Men. It was a dark time, Frodo, and a tale long in the telling.”

“I’m sorry, Arminas,” Frodo murmured. “I didn’t mean to remind you of sad memories.”

“There is no need to apologize,” Arminas smiled at the boy. “After a time, I found a home at last on the grey shores, where many of us have lived in peace for years uncounted. Perhaps you and Bilbo will visit one day and see for yourselves. It is a place of great beauty, and the Sea sings a song unlike any other.”

“I have dreamt of the Sea,” Frodo nodded. “At least, I think I have. I would very much like to see it.”

Arminas spoke awhile longer, of the Sea that he loved, and Frodo’s thoughts began to drift as he listened to the melody of the Elf’s voice. Seeing that the boy was fighting to stay awake, Arminas got to his feet.

“It is getting late, and I must see to the horses. Thank you for your hospitality, my friends; I hope to see you in the morning before I depart.”

“You’re not going to sleep out in the field, are you?” Frodo asked in astonishment, coming out of his reverie. “When you could sleep inside?”

“Frodo,” Bilbo said softly, “Arminas may wish to sleep under the stars.”

“So it is.” Bilbo turned to the Elf. “I know that to you our home must seem cramped, but we have beds large enough for wizards, rangers, or even an Elf. I am certain we can make you comfortable, if you wish it.”

“Trust me, Arminas,” Aragorn chuckled, “do not judge this home, or its residents, by their size. The beds are quite large and comfortable, I can assure you.”

“While you’re tending to the horses, I’ll prepare your rooms,” Bilbo said. “And Frodo, it’s hours past your bedtime.”

“I won’t get any sleep tonight, Bilbo! Not with all this going on.” The boy’s huge yawn interrupted his declaration.

“You will not leave before I wake up, do you hear me, Estel?” Frodo scowled, his arms crossed.

Frodo picked up Scamp, who opened her eyes and yawned. “Time for bed, little one,” he said, then carried the pup to his room. If Bilbo and Aragorn were chuckling quietly behind him, he didn’t hear them.

Early the next morning, Bilbo and Frodo saw their guests off at the front door of Bag End.

“Farewell, Arminas,” Frodo said with a bow. “It’s been an honor to meet you.”

“Farewell, Frodo Baggins,” Arminas returned the bow. “The honor was mine.”

“For you,” Bilbo said, offering a laden basket to the Elf. “Some provisions for your journey home.”

“You are most kind to offer, Bilbo,” Arminas said, “but in my saddlebags I have bread and drink---”

“And now you have fruit, and a few other essentials,” Bilbo insisted, pushing the basket into the Elf’s hands. “The idea of starting a long journey with only bread and drink!”

“You should only get ‘bread and drink’, Estel, for always running off,” Frodo pouted, “but we packed you something, too.” He sighed heavily.

“I’m truly sorry that I must leave.” Aragorn crouched down in front of Frodo. “By the way,” he said casually, “on our way to the Shire, Arminas was kind enough to point this out to me. Elves have very sharp eyes, as Bilbo may have told you.” He picked up the hem of his cloak and showed a startled Frodo where a small flower had been embroidered. “A rose, isn’t it?” Aragorn continued. “A very pretty one, at that.”

“Don’t fret, little one,” Aragorn laughed. He caught Frodo up in a hug. “I can picture the whole thing. No doubt the trolls were prowling about your room one night and found my cloak. Suddenly you woke up! While Scamp started barking to distract them, you grabbed the cloak from the largest and meanest troll, didn’t you?” Frodo was staring at him in astonishment. “They fled,” Aragorn continued, “but not before ripping a few holes in my cloak with their fangs and claws. In the morning, you saw that one of the holes was too big to mend, so someone was kind enough to cover it up with this lovely flower. Isn’t that what must have happened?”

“How did you guess?” Frodo laughed. “That’s exactly what must have happened!”

“Yes.” Frodo looked into the Ranger’s grey eyes. “Don’t stay away so long, next time.”

“I’ll visit whenever I can,” Aragorn replied, “but don’t for a minute think it will be to see you, Frodo Baggins. I miss Bilbo’s lemon cake already.”

Frodo grinned. “You’ll find some in the basket we packed for you, you greedy Ranger.”

Ailsa Joy: Oh, I can’t possibly take credit for “the fluffiest fanfic in Middle-earth” -- not with LilyBaggins’ wondrous “The Trinket” out there!

Ainu Laire: I’m already planning my next story… no puppies, though. *sob*

angelsflame265: Aragorn really can’t stay away from Bag End for long, can he?

Annis: I’m so happy to hear from you, and to hear that my stories brighten your days. For me, all of the hobbits are very different from one another, and I try to write them as individuals.

Aratlithiel1: Aragorn knew he was in an Alternate Universe when he realized that his cloak was nicely washed (and probably sweetly fragranced)!

Arwen Baggins: A book chapter to accompany each quote is a wonderful idea -- thank you. Unfortunately, I can’t have Aragorn meet Merry and Pippin before “By Chance or Purpose”, because all three of these stories in the “Quarantined” universe have to be true to each other. It’s difficult writing a sequel… that’s also a prequel!

AshNight2: Believe it or not, this story ended up two chapters longer than I thought it would be. And Merry liked it too? What a compliment!

Baylor: I can’t imagine that Aragorn doesn’t think about Beren and Lúthien once in a while. Thank you for enjoying that part.

Belothien: It was never my intention to describe Scamp more than a tiny bit -- I wanted everyone to imagine her in their own way. And once again you predicted correctly; I hope you enjoyed Aragorn’s reaction to the cloak! How do you do that? That was one of the first scenes I ever wrote for this story. Scamp wags ‘thank you’ for the (slightly damp now) plushie!

Breon Briarwood: Good guess about the Elves coming to see the stones! (One Elf, anyway.) And I’m sure we haven’t seen the last of Scamp.

British Child: Thank you so much; I really appreciate you letting me know how much you’ve enjoyed this story.

Christina B: I’m so glad you enjoyed this gentle little story. I had a wonderful time writing it.

Elbereth: Poor Aragorn, still just an “honorary” Baggins! Maybe someday…

elentari*angel: Thank you. It’s a thrill to have one’s story called ‘awesome’!

Elven Kitten: Thanks for reading all the way to the end, even though there weren’t any kitties in the story!

Erisinia Gazelle: I’m thrilled that ‘my’ Bilbo has made you so happy. You must be one of his greatest fans.

Firnsarnien: Warm and fuzzy! That’s exactly what I hoped people would feel when they read this story.

Gentle Hobbit: I originally was going to bring Círdan to Bag End, but I didn’t want to break canon quite that much.

Giu: I’m afraid that the occasional cliffhanger is something you may have to get used to, Giu, but I’ll try not to drive you too crazy! Thanks for all your kind comments.

Grav: Thanks for reading yet another one! I’ll start the next story as soon as I can.

Hai Took: Where did hobbits come from? Prof. Tolkien was a bit vague about it, so perhaps it’s up to fanfic authors to explore that question further!

hobbitfeet13: I probably will write something about Faramir, but not immediately. I have to wait for just the right idea to hit me over the head.

illyria-pffyffin: Poor Aragorn -- still just an “honorary” Baggins, while Scamp is an “official” Baggins! Hee hee. I may have to write more about Scamp sometime, if the muse strikes.

Jaimi: That was a dangerous moment for Scamp, wasn’t it? But Arthad is just as well-mannered as his rider.

Kemenran: And so this is the end! But I’ll start my next story as soon as I can.

Kit5: The answer to “where did hobbits come from” is shrouded in mystery, and maybe I’ll revisit it sometime in a future story. And… me? Have a rock fall on Frodo? Hmmph. What must you think of me? (Actually, though, in my next story…)

Lady of Ithilien: Arwen must have been beautiful beyond imagining if she was the “image of Lúthien.” Lucky Aragorn.

Leah Beth: I adore Scamp, now, too! I never thought I’d get so attached to her.

LilyBaggins: It was fun to show Aragorn’s astonishment at what it takes to be an adventurous and curious Baggins. Ah yes, my little sleeves… golly, there are more stories up there, aren’t there?

liptonrm: Getting a chance to slip into the Shire (and all of Middle-earth) is my favorite thing about both fanfiction and the movies. (Scamp is wagging her little hooligan tail at you; she’s clearly up to no good.)

lovethosehobbits: You sweetie! Do my fics really make you smile? What a nice thing to say.

Mish: I’m sorry to end the story, too! Thank goodness there always seem to be more ideas to explore and new stories to think about.

Musicstarlover: Thank you so much. When I was writing “Quarantined”, I never dreamed there’d be a sequel (let alone two, and maybe in the future… more?).

Nilmandra: I do feel that there’s something special about the Bagginses, or at least these two. Gandalf saw something unusual in Bilbo, all those years ago, and I suspect that poor Frodo has inherited it.

Pearl Took: In the end, it just had to be Beren, but believe me, I tried to think of something else that could logically have been on that second stone.

Princess Raine: I’m happy you love Scamp as much as I do! And hobbits totally rule!

Rowan: Thank you for reading, even if you did catch it “in progress”! And you’re right -- Scamp isn’t the center of the story, but the instigator of it. (But a cute instigator.)

Sam: I apologize if anything about the stones seems confusing. I didn’t explain everything about them, because it’s been a long time since they were carved, and the full story will never be known. The stones were always there, but The Hill in which Bag End sits may have grown up around them. As Aragorn says in Chapter 4, “I suspect that an artisan among Men, one of those who would have lived in this area back then, caught sight of Lúthien and captured her likeness so as not to forget it. Either this stone was once open to the sky, and this hill yet to be, or perhaps this was an ancient cave or opening in the hill. Somehow, over the many Ages and changings of the World, all knowledge of this carving was lost. . . We cannot know how or when this stone was covered over and the hill grew around it. . .”

Sandy K: Thank you so much for highlighting your favorite lines. I feel good that Chapter 5 made you laugh.

Scottish Hobbit: Scamp is just too adorable, isn’t she? She even charmed Arthad/Ollie.

Trishette: Regretfully, I have had heat exhaustion, and I fainted exactly as Frodo did. (Or maybe that’s the other way around!)

Reflections of the Past by shirebound