Solmath 1430 SR

Little Merry-lad toddled into the study, where Sam was writing his weekly letters to his brothers. The little face was crumpled with distress.

       "Fwo cwying!" he wailed. Sam dropped his pen in consternation.

       "What's the matter with him? Has your brother hurt himself?"

       "Not Fwo. Uncy Fwo cwying. He sad," the infant hiccupped, scrubbing at his eyes with pudgy fists as his father picked him up.

       Sam set Merry on his legs again and raced for the kitchen. Was Frodo ill or in pain? Had his melancholy returned? His heart was pounding and he began to imagine all sorts of scenes and situations, all of them sad and some positively tragic.

       "Frodo? Frodo!" Sam skidded into the kitchen, tripped on the step, stubbed his toe and swore, hopping about in pain. As he did so he cracked his knee on the leg of the table, dislodging some apples from their perch in the fruit bowl.. They rained down around Rufus, who was dozing on his cushion. The cat leapt up with a yowl and shot out from under the table, scooted between Sam's feet and tripped him. Sam landed heavily, his fall cushioned by a large bag of onions, which sagged over on to its side like a deflating balloon, causing the contents to spill out and roll across the floor.

       Frodo was at the other end of the table, chopping onions. He paused to wipe his streaming eyes and watched in amazement and increasing hysteria as Sam's series of disasters unfolded. As onions and apples rolled over the flagstones, Frodo began to laugh helplessly, leaning on the table, his giggles multiplying until he could barely breathe. His mirth was not dampened by the string of curses in a variety of languages which originated from the far end of the kitchen. Sam sat up and glared around but Frodo could only splutter and point to the rolling fruit and vegetables and give way to more laughter. It took several minutes to calm down and bring the hysteria under control enough to speak.

       "What...........what............what in the Shire...............are you doing, Sam?" He made his way to his friend's side to help him, trying not to succumb to another fit of the giggles and failing utterly.

       Sam looked up, his curses dying on his lips at the sight of his friend grinning. "Merry-lad said you were crying. I thought the worst and came running to see what was wrong."

       "I was cutting onions and they're very strong. Poor little lad must have seem me wiping my eyes and thought I was upset. That was quite an entrance! Oh Sam..........." He went into another bout of wheezing chuckles. "You silly ass!"

       Sam allowed himself to be helped to his feet. He was beginning to see the funny side, and Rufus' suspicious face peering round the doorway certainly helped. The cat edged slowly into the room and sniffed at an onion, than dabbed at it with one paw. When it rolled he bristled a little, then chased after it.

       Rose and the children appeared in the doorway, attracted by the noise. Merry-lad was still whimpering and clinging round his mother's neck, and the others were wide-eyed at the mess.

       Frodo attempted to explain, but the memory set him off again and he sat on the bench clutching his ribs, unable to say anything coherent. Sam had to recite the the whole saga from beginning to end until he too began to howl, and the family joined in. Only Merry still looked doubtful. Frodo took the child on his lap.

       "Fwo not sad?"

       "No, squirt, I'm not sad. I was cutting onions and they have something in them which makes tears flow."

       "Fwo not sad!" the little lad announced, to cheers. He leaned over the dish and sniffed a little too enthusiastically, then started back, rubbing his eyes and grimacing.

       "Did Sam-dad say bad words when he banged his toe?" Ellie asked.

       "Yes, he did." Sam had the grace to look suitably ashamed. "And even more when he banged his knee." Frodo turned to his friend. "Merry's been teaching you Rohirric curses. Very expressive. I'll have to learn those."

       "I hope someone is going to pick up all this lot," said Rose, with a meaningful stare at her husband. "This place looks like a bear garden." She inspected the saucepan of boiling potatoes and the pan of sausages while Frodo tipped the onions into another pan with some butter.

       The children gathered all the stray fruit and veg, leaving one small onion for Rufus, who was hunting it down with great determination and stealth.

       "Be careful, Roo-Roo. Onions can be dangerous if they're cornered!" Frodo murmured, to shrieks of laughter from everyone.

       Rufus crept along on his belly, edging closer to his prey, paused, wriggled his bottom and pounced. He caught the offending item between his front paws, then rolled on his back and kicked at it with powerful back feet. Having satisfied himself that the beast was no longer a threat, he lay back and washed his ears.

       "I'm sorry I startled you, old lad," said Sam, stroking the white chest and exposed belly. Never one to bear a grudge, Rufus accepted the apology graciously, rubbing his cheek against the proffered fingers.

       "We should put some arnica ointment on those bruises, Sam."

       "Aye. Onions aren't very soft to land on, I must say. Of course my flint-hearted wife is more concerned about them than she is about me." Sam tried to look wounded.

       "That is because a bruised Sam will heal. Bruised onions and apples go bad," Rose teased, kissing him on the nose. "Still, I can understand you panicking if you though Frodo was in trouble." She shook her head and laughed. "My lads, what will you do next?"

       A little later the family sat down to their dinner, while out in the passage Rufus was busy. Having dealt with the troublesome onion, he now had a particularly vicious cotton reel to stalk. All this and fruit missiles to cope with! There was no peace for an accomplished hunter and family guardian.

1430 SR

The thoughts of Rufus the cat.

It is well known that cats can see into the spirit world. It is not so well known that every living creature has an inner light, an aura which glows around them. Only certain Men and Hobbits are receptive enough to see this, but all cats (and Elves) can do so. Perhaps this means we are of Elvish origin? It is partly for this reason that in some places, such as Rhun and Harad, Men still fear us. At times we, and our carers, have been persecuted. My Master often wonders aloud if Queen Beruthiel was as bad as she is made out to be, and I daresay he is right to wonder. Perhaps she was just a lonely woman who found joy in the company of her cats, who asked nothing more than her affection, without conditions. I certainly dispute the story that her cats were evil.

       Perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Rufus, known to everyone in Hobbiton and Bywater as 'the Bag End cat.' I came to live here about four years ago, shortly after the death of my father, who was Bag End cat for nearly eighteen years. I was the last of his offspring, and when I came here I was four months old. He knew that I would be chosen - my mother lived with the Widow Rumble - and father came to New Row nearly every day, to educate me as much as he could when he knew his time was short. He told me of the Ring and the journey of Frodo and Samwise, and how much Frodo Baggins suffered for it still. He was devoted to Frodo and that devotion was returned, so much so that when my father went at last to his long home, he breathed his last cradled in the arms of his Master. He lies buried in the gardens, beneath a small stone marker with his name - Pickle 1409 - 1426 SR

       As my name implies, I am red and white - at least my Master calls it red, although to most people it is ginger or marmalade.Neither taste very nice, at least to a cat, but with hobbits everything relates to food. When my father had been properly buried, the family realised that the smial was very empty without a cat in it, so my Master made his way to New Row, frail though he was, and asked the widow if she would part with me. She would not have given me to anyone else, but she knew I would have the best home in the Shire, and consented happily to my departure. I still call in to see her and my mother.

       My father told me that the wicked Men who came to the Shire had no light around them. Their aura was a sludgy brown, muddy and unclear. This suggests a lack of spiritual awareness to say the least, and probably true evil. Fortunately most cats kept away from them, although dogs and smaller animals were not so lucky, and suffered torment at their hands. My father stayed in Buckland while the Master was away, living with the Brandy Hall cats in comfort and safety. My longfather, the first Bag End cat, was a Brandy Hall kitten, so my father saw the home of his ancestors.

       Most hobbits have a warm orange aura, like the setting sun. This denotes an affinity with living things and is enhanced by their natural jollity. The only one I have seen who does not possess it is the miller who left the Shire when Master Samwise became the Mayor. His aura is brown and faint and I do not trust him. They say he beats his wife and little ones and I cannot say I am surprised.

      Elves are full of a soft silvery light like the stars. It is very comforting and draws all living things. I know not what sort of light most Dwarves have, but the one who visits Bag End has a warm light with a little blue tinge - a sign that he is becoming more aware of his surroundings and Nature. He appreciates trees and flowers more now because he spends so much time with the Elf from the Greewood. This is a good thing.

       My family - everyone who lives at Bag End - is remarkable in many ways. Mistress Rose, wife to Samwise, is kind and practical and a very good cook. I keep her company in the kitchen when she is preparing food, and a variety of titbits come my way. She has a lovely pink light, and it grows brighter and deeper each time she carries a new life inside her. She has love in abundance to give to everyone who needs it, and her warmth is the heart of this home.

       The children have their own inner lights. The one called Ellie has a light like the early morning summer sunbeams, the lad who looks most like his father has a similar golden glow, and the little lass named for her mother has a gentle pink light which reminds me of the pale pink roses in the gardens. Even the two smallest ones have their own aura, innocent and glowing with joy and love. They are gentle with me and often share their food. Why, only this morning little Merry sat with me under the table and offered me his dish of porridge. I have heard that diseases can be spread by sharing plates in this way, but he looks clean enough and I am sure I will not catch anything.

       Master Samwise has a very bright light, warm and golden and dazzling as the sun. My father told me that the Quest to destroy the Enemy's ring was only completed because Sam was there to help the Master. He rescued him from a tower full of those dreadful orc creatures and carried him on his back when his own strength gave out. He helped to save the Shire and healed the hurts it had received, restoring it to its full beauty. Sam loves his wife and children and he also loves my Master as much as I do. He would do anything for Frodo and is no longer the simple gardener he was before the journey. His name really does not apply now he is Mayor of the Shire and receives letters from the King It seems His Majesty agrees, for he calls him 'Perhael who should be called Panthael' - Halfwise who should be called Fullwise. I like the sound of this King and hope to meet him one day. The family went to Gondor last year but I was left behind, which did not please me. A cat may look at a King and I could have travelled with them. Perhaps King Elessar will travel north and visit us.

       My Master, Frodo Baggins, has the brightest light of all. Cats do not normally acknowledge a Master but mine saved the world and is my Master because I choose. Samwise says the same thing, although he rarely calls him Mister or Master Frodo now they are as close as brothers. My Master has an inner light which blazes forth so strongly I am surprised everyone in the Shire cannot see it. It is the light at the heart of a star, white and brilliant and pure, not seen in mortals before or since. It is the light of those who dwell in the Uttermost West.

       It was thought that Frodo Baggins would depart this world and sail with the Elves, but he decided at the last to remain, though it would mean his death. I had not been at Bag End long when he became ill, and for weeks his life was despaired of. I lay on the bed, trying to warm his cold body and bring him some comfort, and it seemed that he was less agitated when I was there. A miracle was granted to us, and he recovered from his illness, and from the long melancholy which had afflicted him since the Quest. Now he takes part in the life of the Shire and plays with the children and grows stronger, and as he strengthens so does his light. He is a rare one - tender-hearted, compassionate to all life (I kill my prey quickly because he does not like to see them tormented), reluctant to judge, slow to strike, quick to comfort and heal. I do not need to open my eyes or turn my head to know where he is, for his light calls to me clearly, a beacon of love and duty, demanding no less in return.

       Now you know a little about my family. It is my duty to keep an eye on them, catch mice and rats and anything else which might prove a threat to them, play with the children, sit on laps and charm those who need cheering. It is a very responsible position, being the Bag End cat. I must leave you, for Mistress Rose is about to prepare lunch and if I sit still and quiet I am rewarded with a plate of meat. I have a good life and pity my fellow cats who are shunned and abused for their mystery. Please remember, it is not through evil means that we are able to see in both worlds, for we are but as Iluvatar made us.

1430 SR

       "Delphiniums!"

       Frodo lifted his gaze from the household accounts and mouthed the word he had just heard outside the study window. He listened for a moment but all was quiet again, so he shrugged his shoulders and returned to his calculations.

       "Snapdragons!" Sam's voice again. This was followed by another long silence and some soft muttering. Then: "Hollyhocks!"

       Curiosity now stirred, Frodo poked his head out of the window. "Sam? Have you discovered a new form of swearing?"

       Sam looked up and laughed. "No, m'dear. Just planning the planting for this summer. Although some of those names would make good curses, I daresay."

       "Lupins!" said Frodo with a chuckle. "And Rose can't complain that we're corrupting the children."

       "Nasturtiums!" Sam said impishly. "No, she can't. Reckon we've hit on the perfect solution."

       "Mimulus!" Frodo capped the ink and wiped his hands. "If you're planning this summer's planting, can I help?  I can draw a plan." He grabbed some paper and a pencil and scurried out to join Sam and young Frodo-lad.

       "Ooh! Freesias!" Sam added. Frodo-lad promptly had a fit of the giggles.

       "Well, if you're going to swear at me I'll go back indoors," said Frodo. "And begonias to you!"

       "Petunias - don't forget petunias," young Fro added excitedly.

       Sam pointed to the edge of the path. "Geraniums. Must have some of those. Red, white and pink - and some of the lemon scented ones for the corner there, where they'll be noticed."

       "Yes, Master Samwise, sir," Frodo said obediently, his eyes twinkling as he wrote the names on the plan.

       "You can stop that too," Sam said. "I know I should call you 'Master Frodo' .............."

       "You dare! I only came back to the land of the living on the grounds that you would never call me that again!  I'm just teasing, my dear Sam."

       "Aye, I know that, but I could never get used to you calling me 'Master Samwise' like that. Sounds strange enough when others do it."

       "Nothing more than you deserve. They know what you have done for Middle-earth and for the Shire, and I'm delighted, but I'm smug enough to know that I recognised your talents long before anyone else." Frodo grinned down at his namesake, who was staring critically at an empty flowerbed. "What shall we put there, do you think?"

       "Alliums!" young Fro declared. "I like those."

       "We all like those, one way or another. Onions are alliums too, you know." Sam chuckled. "Let's tell people we're planting onions in the flowerbeds."

       "They'll shake their heads and say it is all down to 'Mad Baggins'," Frodo said, and soon all three were laughing as they paced the gardens, seeing the banks of flowers in their minds.

       Rose shook her head and laughed quietly as she took washing off the line and folded it. Sometimes she thought she had seven children, not five. Did lads ever grow up? Little boys all their lives, but none the worse for that.

       "Merry? I'm hungry!"

       Meriadoc Brandybuck surveyed his cousin for a moment. "You're always hungry. How long since lunch?"

       "What does that have to do with it? I'm too hungry to concentrate on all this." He pushed the papers away in an impatient gesture. Some fluttered on to the patterned rug. Merry sighed, tutted and set them back on the desk again. "And don't tut like that! You're turning into a boring old gaffer! I vote we raid the pantry." He bounced up and hurried round the desk, his green eyes sparkling with excitement at the prospect of adventure.

       "You'll get into trouble......... Oh, what's the use?" Merry flung his hands in the air in a gesture of hopelessness and then followed Pip out of the room. He caught up with the determined Took. "I'm wasting my time telling you you're too old for this sort of thing, aren't I?"

       "Too old?" Pip screeched to a halt so suddenly that Merry cannoned into the back of him.

       "Oooof! What in Arda did you do that for?!"

       "Sssshhh! We're supposed to be quiet if we don't want to be nagged deaf for a week. Do try and be a little more subtle, Merry, there's a dear. I know you're a clod-hopping Brandybuck but do make an effort."

       "Clod-hopping.....? Why, you cheeky Took!"

       "And no, I'm not too old. One is never too old for pantry-raiding." He turned and bestowed a mischievous, beaming smile on his cousin, the sort he'd been giving since he was a babe in arms.

       They reached the pantries without discovery. Pip glanced up and down the corridor before opening the door soundlessly.

       "You stay here and keep watch. I'll go and see what I can find. There's apple pie......" he added in a sing-song voice as his cousin looked doubtful.

       "Apple pie? Well, why didn't you say so? Get in there and do your stuff, Pip."

       Merry hopped impatiently from one foot to the other, glancing round every so often, waiting for the busy tread of one of the maids, or (Valar forbid) Ruby, the housekeeper at Great Smials. He told himself there was no reason to be apprehensive, but there was an undeniable thrill of danger in doing this, which would add to the flavour of the food - when and if Pip ever found it!

       "Any apples?" he asked hopefully.

       "Here!" An apple flew out and clipped Merry on the temple.

       "Ow! Of all the clumsy, cack-handed, addle-pated ..........." He picked up the offending fruit. "I might have known. It's a bloody Pippin!" he muttered.

       "Oh stop moaning and hold these," hissed Pip, shoving various packages and bundles into his arms. He dived back in and emerged with several more items and a jug.

       "Did you find that apple pie?"

       "Yes - with cinnamon and cloves. Can't you smell it? It's under your nose!"

       They hurried back to the study and locked the door before going through the stolen booty.

       "Large pork pie, buttered rolls, cheese.......Not so addle-pated now, am I?" Pip smirked and waved the jug, which was full of thick, rich cream to go with the apple pie.

       "No, I admit it, you're a very smart hobbit. Sorry I called you that."

       "I'm sorry I hit you with the apple. Did it hurt?"

       "No more than the one Strider threw at you outside Bree. That was fun, I must admit, although we're probably a bit too grown-up for it really."

       "Don't you start," said Pippin, munching happily. "Di is always telling me to act my age but I don't know how. How is an eighty-year old hobbit supposed to act? Bilbo stayed sprightly and impish for years after his eightieth birthday."

       "He had the One Ring, Pip - unless there's something you haven't told me!"

       "Anyway, I'm the Thain and they're my blasted pantries. I can raid them if I like, though Scoldie Goldie will have something to say when she finds out. She's as lethal as Rose with that damned tea towel!"

       "You're incorrigible, you know that, don't you?"

       "Wouldn't be me otherwise. I wonder if Frodo still pinches mushrooms? I hope mushrooms grow in Tol Eressa."

       Merry laughed. "I should think Lord Elrond has placed guards on the Elven mushrooms, just in case a rascally Baggins tries a spot of raiding."

       Pip found two glasses and a bottle of fine wine in the bookcase. "Let's raise a glass to the dear lad. It's the Baggins birthday next week." He pushed a glass across the desk. "To Frodo - and Bilbo, wherever he is."

       "To Frodo! Happy birthday, dear heart."

       "Here's to us too, Mer. To pantry-raiding, mushroom stealing and pipe-smoking. May we never be too old for any of it!"

       "Not much danger of that," said Merry, and bit into his apple pie.

Dedicated to the memory of Dingle, who was the model for Rufus.. He died on 30th September, 2005, aged 15. He was a joy - bossy, affectionate, funny, inquisitive and occasionally silly - and hopefully will continue to live in these stories.

It was the best place, under the kitchen table, Rufus thought, curled on the plump cushion which had been placed for him. The bigger hobbits slipped him items of food and the little ones dropped choice bits and pieces. The very small ones ate sloppy food but it tasted good, even if it looked peculiar. Rufus was not particularly fussy. Rose was a good cook and his beloved Frodo cooked quite well and was generous with the titbits, as was kind-hearted Sam. Even Peregrin Took was quite happy to feed the cat bits of his dinner and no-one liked his food better than the young Took. Rufus considered himself to be a hobbity cat: he loved food and so did his family, and nothing which came his way was ever anything less than excellent. Sometimes the children joined him under the table for a cuddle. He did not mind, so long as they did not squeeze him. The babies were often clumsy but Frodo was very strict in teaching them how to stroke animals with due consideration. His dear master was a gentle soul who could not abide any living thing to suffer, and the little ones meant well. Nothing they did was out of malice.The smallest walking member of the family had generously shared his breakfast porridge with the cat that morning, and as this was made with cream it was delicious.

       Someone entered the kitchen and crouched to look under the table. It was Sam. Rufus liked the gentle gardener, who loved Frodo as much as he did, even if he did sometimes fuss over him too much. Sam stroked the cat's head and scratched gently behind the ears, exactly as Rufus liked. He began to purr, rumbling softly in his throat until his whole body was vibrating with happiness.

       Then again, perhaps the best place was under the eiderdown on Frodo's bed on winter nights, tucked against his legs or back. When his master had been very ill Rufus had done his best to provide some warmth for that chilled and frail body, although he knew to avoid the painful scars. The one on the left shoulder was once a very bad thing, always cold and full of something which made the cat want to hiss and run away. It was caused by something very evil, and a little piece of it was still there. Then Frodo had become very ill and everyone in the house was crying. The scar opened and all the bad things came out, and after many weeks when Frodo hovered between the worlds of the living and the dead, his tender-hearted master had awoken and recovered. Now the bed was warm and Rufus liked to snuggle. Frodo would pat the bump beneath the quilt and Rufus would make a little noise, a 'Brrrrrrrpppp' of greeting. On frosty mornings it was pleasant to stretch and purr and sprawl under the cosy quilt, with Frodo stroking his head and talking softly.

       Perhaps the perfect place was the garden. This was where Sam worked, planting sweet-smelling flowers to please Master Frodo. The young lad worked alongside his father, as he too was a gardener and loved all living things.There were fragrant corners, shady spots and places where a cat could sun himself in peace. There were squirrels to think about, although he would ignore the embarrassing incident when a squirrel threw acorns at him. The family still laughed about what they called the 'squirrel incident.' (Mind you, there was a mysterious event with which they teased Pippin Took, known as the 'goat incident,' so Rufus did not feel quite so victimised).  There were butterflies to chase during the day and bats and moths to watch at night. He had never managed to catch a bat, but it was not for want of trying. The cheeky little mice with wings were over-confident and one day one of them would make a mistake, and when they did, he would be ready.

       The parlour was nice too. Apparently one of his ancestors, Frodo's first kitten, had once climbed up the chimney and brought down lots of soot. Rufus privately thought his longfather must have been several fillets short of a salmon to attempt such an act. There was nothing comfortable about a chimney, particularly if it was full of soot. Besides, that sort of escapade resulted in the worst thing of all - a bath! Rufus has been bathed once in his life and it was not an experience he wanted to repeat. Soap suds, water and the indignity of being reduced to a bundle of bedraggled fluff. One of the Took aunts had two little lapdogs who were bathed all the time, and she trilled that they loved it! Rufus snorted. Dogs were such foolish creatures, fawning over everyone, making a lot of horrid noise and allowing their owners to tie silly bows in their hair and primp them about for hours. Cats had more sense! Not that Master Frodo tried things like that. He often said that a cat should be allowed to be a cat, and Rufus thought Frodo a very wise and unusually intelligent creature.

       Occasionally he condescended to recline on the couch and be bandaged if Ellie and little Rosie were playing healers. They were gentle and kind and brought him food, so he would tolerate their ministrations for a while until boredom set in, when he would hop down and streak for the door. His nurses were philosophical about this, as their Uncle Frodo had taught them that the game was over when Rufus said so.

       He enjoyed sitting in the branches of the oak tree on sunny days, swaying very slightly in the breeze and watching the comings and goings to New Row and Bag End. Below, in the garden, Sam would be working, whistling or singing as he did so. Down the hill he could see Sam's sister May hanging out her washing at No.3 New Row, and the children playing in the lane. If one of the family went into Hobbiton, Rufus would watch for their return and climb down to see what was in the basket. There was always something for him - some ground beef or a fish.

                                                                              ************

       The cat curled up with his tail round his nose. The lavender bushes rustled around him as he closed his eyes and prepared to doze. Later he would go into the kitchen and rub round Mistress Rose, who would scold him lightly for tripping her, and fill his bowl with food. Everywhere was nice, he thought, and the perfect place was wherever he happened to be at the time

Late July (Afterlithe) 1430 SR

The loud knocking on Bag End's green front door interrupted the conversation at the supper table and Sam hastened to open the door before the visitors knocked a hole in it.

       "Evening, Master Gamgee, zur. We're itinerant agricultural workers looking for work, and we 'eard as 'ow you was 'arvesting your 'ay meadow tomorrow." Pip tugged his forelock in an exaggeratedly servile fashion.

       "That's right, zur. We're desperate for work. We ain't eaten for all of 'alf an hour!" Merry fell on his knees on the doormat.

       "Who is it, Sam?" Frodo wandered into the hall and stopped short when he saw his cousins.

       "Itinerant labourers wanting work hay harvesting," Sam explained.

       Pip joined Merry on the mat. "Please, Mister Baggins, don't send us away. We're 'ard workers and we'll do anything. We're starving" He tried not to grin as Frodo started to laugh.

       "If these two are starving then I'm Evalina Proudfoot!" said Sam drily.

       "Mrs. Proudfoot! How delightful to make your acquaintance at last!" Pip trilled in a high falsetto, leaping to his feet. He advanced on Sam and pumped his hand enthusiastically.

       Frodo sank on to the settle in the passage and laughed until the tears were running down his face. The children emerged to see what was causing Uncle Fro so much hilarity; Frodo-lad giggled at Pip's high-pitched voice, Rosie-lass looked baffled and Ellie, ever her mother's daughter, gave him a look which managed to combine tolerance, resignation and amused pity.

       "Pip, you really are a silly ass!" Frodo managed at last, almost choking.

       Pip bowed. "Thank you, thank you. I aim to please."

       "I suppose we'd better feed them, or our lack of hospitatlity will be all over Hobbiton by the morning. Come in, you two." Frodo wiped his eyes and embraced the two strapping hobbits before him.

       Merry lifted his slender cousin, flung him over his shoulder and carried him through to the kitchen, where Rose was filling two extra plates.

       "Put me down, you silly fathead!"

       "Tsk! That's no way to speak to your favourite cousin." He bounced Frodo and finally settled him on a chair, while the children watched open-mouthed.

       "I thought I was his favourite cousin," Pip objected.

       "No, I'm his favourite cousin."

       "Ahem."

       The two looked up to find Rose watching them, hands on hips, a tea towel hanging from her apron pocket. When she had their attention she took the tea towel and swung it meaningfully. The pair slunk into their seats and gave their full attention to the food.

       "Are you serious about haymaking?" Frodo asked, sliding in next to Merry. Since the return from the Quest and the acquisition of several ponies Sam had planted up a hay meadow to provide food for them during the winter months.

       "Of course we are. It's all hands to the pump when haymaking starts, and if we work at it and the Cotton lads help out we should get it all cut in a day."

       Pip gesticulated with his fork. "And the weather looks set fair for a week or two so it should dry out nicely. Go on, you know you want to see us slaving while you loaf about with a mug of ale and a plate of sandwiches."

       Frodo contrived to look injured. "I said I wanted to help but Sam disapproves. He's worried about me overdoing things - as usual."

       "Haymaking's hard work, me dear, and you haven't done anything like that for a long time."

       "I used to love haymaking - always went to Whitwell to help Paladin for haymaking and later for harvest, and I used to help on the Cotton's farm. I'm strong now, Sam."

       "I don't think you should be troubling yourself. All Rose's brothers are coming, and Will Sandyman said he'd help, and with me and these two hulking louts we should have it all cut by tea-time."

       Frodo humphed and fed the imploring Rufus who was sitting on his feet, tapping his leg to remind his master of his presence.

       "How're Di and Stella?" Rose queried. "Won't be long now for both of them."

       "Uncomfortable in the heat, but thriving. Di says she feels as big as an oliphaunt!" Merry chuckled. "I think they both look even more beautiful, just as you do when you're expecting, Rose dear."

       "Flattery will get you nearly everywhere, Merry. You're after a nice big piece of the raspberry pie, aren't you?"

       Merry batted his eyelashes. "Would I do such a thing?"

       "You? Of course not, my gallant knight of Rohan. Pay compliments in the hope of receiving food?"

       "Do you suppose she's being sarcastic?" Merry asked his cousins.

       "Just slightly," said Frodo.

       Supper over, the children dragged their uncles off to see the garden. Young Fro was anxious to show them his small garden, which was a mass of petunias, pansies, begonias and sweet night-scented stocks. Rose and Sam finished the washing-up and went outside, carrying baby Pip in his wicker basket. His feet almost reached the end now and he would soon be too big to fit in it. He chewed on a carved ring of wood and then began to experiment with putting his toe in his mouth.

       It was a perfect evening, the air full of fragrance and the sky almost luminous with the clear light of high summer. A few small clouds had turned the colour of strawberry juice as the sun slipped down in the west, behind the hills. The birds were still about, catching insects for their young before handing over the duty to the bats who would soon be emerging into the dusk. Below them the fields spread out in a patchwork of different colours from green to gold, each square of the giant quilt separated by hedgerows and the winding threads of lanes and footpaths. Puffs of smoke rose from various chimneys and hung in the still air, and bees continued to bumble in the honeysuckle in their search for nectar.

       "Ah, lovely!" Pippin lit his pipe and settled on the bench. "What a view!"

       "Nowhere quite like Bag End, eh?" Merry plopped down beside him. "Where's Plodly these days?"

       "Yes, where is he? Haven't seen him for ages."

       "He was in the lavender earlier," said Sam, glancing round. He drummed his hand on the bench and called, and eventually there was a rustling in the bushes and Plodly emerged.

       Plodly was a tortoise, the first and only one in the Shire. It was too far north for them to live in the wild, but they were common in Gondor and the lands to the south. Frodo had been fascinated by them after the Quest - how he had wished on the journey that he could have taken Bag End with him, and this strange creature carried his house, rather as a snail did. He liked their comical little faces and their stoic refusal to be deterred from their path. They had a stubborn will which was somehow quite hobbit-like. Aragorn had presented him with one when they left Minas Tirith and Gandalf had supplied much information about the creature's behaviour and dietary needs, some of which had undoubtedly come from Radagast. Lord Elrond even managed to find some information in one of the many books in his library, and he gifted the volume to Frodo on their departure. Every autumn Sam prepared a box and filled it with straw. When Plodly was safely bedded down, the lid was secured, with air-holes, and it was carefully placed in the shed. Sam checked regularly to ensure there were no rats about, and every spring Plodly rose from his strange sleep and trundled out to greet the warmth. He was offered water and fresh food, because Gandalf said it was necessary to flush out the poisons which accumulated during the long months of his hibernation, and he also liked a warm bath. His shell was polished regularly, and he grew slowly but steadily. He was now the size of a tea plate, but would become even bigger and probably live for a hundred years.

       "Plodly!" Pip lifted the tortoise carefully and set him on the table, where he surveyed the company in an amiable manner.

       Frodo darted inside and emerged a few moments later with some chopped salad on a dish. Sam meanwhile had gone out into the lane and grabbed some dandelion leaves from the side of the path. Plodly almost beamed at them and began to tuck in, chomping on the succulent tomato wedges first as they were his favourite. Rufus hopped onto the bench beside Frodo and stood on his hind legs to say hello to his friend. They touched noses briefly. There had been a time when Plodly would hiss at the cat if interrupted while feeding but he soon realised that Rufus had no interest in salad, although they would sometimes share a dish of ground beef.

       Sam went round replenishing water dishes for the various residents and visitors to the garden. He encouraged the hedgehog families because no-one liked slugs and snails less than a gardener and no-one liked them more than a hungry hedgehog. The fruit and vegetable garden could be decimated in a short time and Sam disliked killing things if a more natural way could be found. As dusk crept over the Shire the hedgehogs trotted out to search for their supper.

                                                                          ************

       The Cotton lads arrived before first breakfast and although they had undoubtedly eaten at the farm they were not about to refuse anything cooked by their sister. Frodo, Merry and Pip joined them and Sam went on up to the stables, to turn the ponies out into the paddock and muck out the stalls. Will Sandyman would be there to help - the lad had developed a liking for ponies and was a very willing helper. Sam always made sure he received something for his work, although he knew Will would have done it for nothing. Mrs Sandyman was pleased that her younger son was spending time with someone she recognised as a good influence, and had noticed the increasing maturity in the lad's behaviour. The Mayor was a much better role model than her feckless, drunken husband, and he took a genuine interest in all her children, as did Mister Baggins.

       The stables cleaned and laid with fresh straw, Sam and Will walked over to the hay meadow, where the harvesting was already underway. It was already a warm day, and most of the workers were stripped to the waist, although they all had hats on, to prevent heatstroke.. Only one still wore a shirt and Sam watched the figure swinging his scythe with an almost Elven grace, upper body turning in a gesture both strange and familiar.......

       Frodo! The stubborn Baggins had decided to come and work after all. Sam shook his head and walked over, taking care to avoid the swinging blades.

       "Sneaky!" He wagged a finger at Frodo, who laughed.

       "It's so lovely to be out here, Sam. The smell of new-mown hay is delicious."

       Sam allowed himself a smile. "Well, I suppose it won't do you any harm - so long as you promise to stop if you feel tired or giddy, and take a breather every now and then."

       "I promise."

       "Obstinate Fallohide!"

       "That's good, coming from the most stubborn hobbit in Middle-earth!" Frodo grinned cheekily at Sam from beneath the brim of his hat. "See? I'm wearing my hat and keeping covered."

       "Glad to hear it. Now don't forget, rest when you feel tired. No-one will mind."

       Frodo watched Sam walk further down the field, then shook his head.

       "Proper old fussbudget, isn't he?" murmured Jolly Cotton.

       "He gets worse, I swear. I'm stronger now than I've been for almost twelve years, and he still fusses."

       "I heard that!" Sam called.

       "Stop giving him excuses to be lazy, Sam," teased Pip, mopping his face. "Those Bagginses are always ready to duck out of a job."

       "Impudent Pipsqueak!" Frodo yelled, laughing. "Slandering us Bagginses!" He swung the scythe methodically and with a beautiful economy of effort, enjoying the exercise and the feel of a working tool in his hands once more. The bright red poppies and blue corn cockle stood out around the edges of the field together with the bright yellow of the hedge mustard.

       They ate a combined second breakfast and elevenses and drank ale which had been cooling in the stream. At midday Rose and the children arrived with lunch and they sat in the shade and savoured every mouthful while the children scampered through the cut hay, tossed it in the air and rolled in it. Baby Pip crawled about and was bounced on a variety of laps by his doting uncles, and Merry-lad lived up to expectations by removing all his clothes and daring his older siblings to catch him.

                                                                          ************

       Progress that afternoon was good and by tea-time they had completed the task. The hay would need to be turned every few days so that it could dry thoroughly before being stored in the hayloft - stored damp, it would decompose and generate heat, which could cause a fire. The weather looked fine and the old gaffers in the West Farthing predicted it would stay dry for at least two weeks more.

       "You alright?" Sam asked Frodo as they headed down to Bag End.

       "I feel wonderful! Just nicely tired, with the satisfaction of a good day's work done, a few blisters on my hands, which are to expected, and my back will probably twinge a bit, but I've had such a lovely day."

       "Good - that is what I always wanted to hear. I'm sorry if I fuss - I know I do - but I can't help it."

       "Oh Sam, you wouldn't be my dear Sam if you didn't fuss a bit, but don't worry so. I've caused you son much trouble and worry over the years and I know you fuss because you care for me."

       "Just tell me if I'm being daft old Sam."

       "I wouldn't swap 'daft old Sam' for all the treasures of Arda, dearest, you know that. I've never been better cared for and you have given me back everything I thought I'd lost. I have a home, a family and I'm surrounded by so much love I can't express what it means to me." He linked his arm through Sam's and they walked into the kitchen together.

       Dinner was superb - roast chicken with potatoes and vegetables and all sorts of fruit pies and puddings for afters. Pip was pink and itchy from sunburn, Merry was a rich golden colour and the Cottons were tanned as deeply as Sam. Even the children were glowing. Rose gazed at her large and cheerful family as they ate and talked, and felt so happy she thought she would burst. The hay harvest was done and if the fine weather held, there would be plenty for the winter months. If it was as good for the wheat and barley harvest in Wedmath they would have another 1420. In the Southfarthing the new vines in the Winyards fields were plumping nicely and a bumper vintage looked likely. Aragorn had already placed an order for a hundred bottles, and would give some cases as diplomatic gifts. Even the ambassadors from Harad and Rhun had expressed an interest.

       After dinner the Cottons wended their way home and the Bag End residents sat comfortably in the garden, watching the bats. Plodly rearranged the straw in his little summerhouse - an ale keg on its side - and Rufus chased moths. In the orchard a family of badgers slipped quietly from their sett, the youngsters to play and the adults to look for food.

       "This has been a perfect day," said Merry, puffing on his pipe. "Some days are like that. And we did what the proverb says we should - make hay while the sun shines."

                                                                           ************

       In a small room at the top of the White Tower, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, assumed the guise of Strider as he gazed into the palantir and wished himself in that fragrant garden, surrounded by dear friends, full of good food and ale. A visit to the Shire always revitalised and cheered him, particularly if he had had a long day of diplomacy. When he returned to the Royal Apartments and his waiting family he was singing joyfully, and they knew he had enjoyed a brief visit with his loved ones in the Shire. The children clamoured to know, and he took Gilraen and Melian on his lap, hugged Eldarion and Arwen close, and told them about haymaking in Hobbiton on one perfect summer's day.

September (Halimath) 1430

Summer was lingering in the Shire, reluctant to leave after being made so welcome. The days were warm and golden, the fruit gardens still groaned under the weight of their bounty, the grapes on the Southfarthing vines grew sweeter and fatter as the starches turned to sugars, roses blossomed and all birds, beasts and insects made the most of the glorious weather to fatten themselves for the winter. Wasps fed on fermenting fruit and buzzed tetchily, reeling drunk and hungover, tumbling in and out of the flowers and gorging themselves until they could barely move.

       In the Bag End garden, the Baggins/Gamgee family enjoyed the autumn sunshine after a long and leisurely lunch. Sam pottered around, dead-heading and staking daisies and top-heavy dahlias, Frodo wrote letters, Rose was busy mending and the children played noisily. Ellie was practicing cartwheels, Frodo-lad was trying to copy her, Rosie-lass had her dolls in a row and was playing schools, Merry-lad had unearthed a cloth ball and was throwing it in a somewhat haphazard manner which made Sam fear for his herbaceous borders, and Pip crawled about, attempting to grab Rufus' tail, which twitched in a tantalizing fashion just out of reach. Plodly sunned himself near the bench and lumbered through the undergrowth in search of food.

       "I can see your drawers!" Fro called to his sister as he prepared another attempt.

       "At least I'm wearing some! Daisy Brownlock doesn't!" Ellie poked out her tongue and turned another cartwheel. She grinned as her brother failed to raise his legs properly and collapsed in an undignified heap on the grass.

       Rufus hopped up on to the bench to investigate the contents of the mending basket, then padded across the letter Frodo was writing to Aragorn.

       "Oh Rufus! You've signed your name on Aragorn's letter now," Frodo laughed, snatching the cat and turning him upside down in his arms. Rufus contrived to look abashed and made no attempt to leap away as his Master buried his face in the warm fur on his belly and huffed.

       "That cat is getting sillier," Rose said. "Daft old thing, aren't you?" she addressed the cat. Rufus grinned lopsidedly and waved a paw.

       Little Rose lectured one of her dolls rather sternly for some minor transgression, and attempted to show them how to write their names on a small slate. She tried to persuade Rufus to join the class but when Frodo set him back on the grass he trotted off upon business of his own.

       Frodo finished his letter and set it aside, holding it down with the pen tray. He went through his list of birthday guests, writing in suitable presents where he had already found something or knew what he wanted to give. With others he just left queries and would go through the mathom-room to see if there was anything he could use. He could hear Sam whistling somewhere in the vicinity of the shed, and Rose was singing under her breath as she sewed a button on Sam's workshirt and turned a frayed collar. The soft baa-ing of contented sheep drifted over from Tully Noakes' grazing lands.

       "I'm sending Aragorn a case of Winyards - the 1428 vintage. I think he'll be impressed."

       "Wait till he tries this year's - he's already ordered a hundred bottles." Rose chuckled.

       "Yes, they say it will equal the Old Winyards crop. Bungo would be pleased."

       Baby Pip's yell of protest caused him to glance down. The little lad had been happily crawling across the grass but Rufus now had the child's nappy in his mouth and was dragging him backwards. When he was satisfied that Pip was securely under the table he released him.

       "What is that cat doing now?" Rose asked, biting off another thread.

       "Dragging Pippi round the garden by the look of it. What brought that on, I wonder?"

       Pip obviously felt he had been ill-used. He waved a fist at Rufus and set off again, determined to reach the cloth ball Merry had left in the lavender bed when he became side-tracked by his cartwheeling siblings. Rufus trotted after the baby, grasped a mouthful of nappy and hauled him back under the table.

       "Rufus! Stop that! Pip can crawl about if he wants to." Frodo wagged a finger at the cat, who miaowed loudly and ran after Merry-lad as he went to retrieve the ball.

       "Go 'way, Woo-woo!" The faunt waved a hand and tried to shoo the cat away, but Rufus stood his ground in front of Merry and refused to allow him to continue. Merry side-stepped but Rufus blocked him again. "Go 'way!" he shouted. Rufus hissed.

       Frodo was startled to see the cat swipe at the child's leg. He had not extended his claws, but Rufus had never raised a paw to any of the children before.

       "'Tupid cat!" The little faunt ran past. Rufus growled low in his throat, raced foward and leapt. He was large and heavy and he landed between Merry's shoulders with a thud. The child fell face down on the grass, winded. For a moment he was too shocked to do anything; then he wailed.

       "Now look here! We're not having that!" said Sam, striding over. Rufus was yowling and hissing, his fur standing on end and his tail puffed up like a bottle-brush. "What is wrong with him? Is he mad?"

       Rose had dropped her mending and rushed to her little son. As she bent to lift him she clapped a hand to her mouth and gave a little scream. "Sam!" she whispered urgently. "Stop! Step away. Now!"

       "What?" Sam gaped at her.

       "Woo-woo not like me!" Merry-lad sobbed.

       "Elves and dragons! Just do it, Sam! Now! Move this way - slowly!" She addressed the child. "Woo-woo just saved your life, my lad. He loves you very much."

       Frodo followed the direction of her gaze and paled. "Sam! There's a huge adder under that bush! That's what Rufus has been trying to tell us! He's been trying to keep the children away."

       Sam stepped away from the flowerbed and peered under the massive lavender bush. The adder was large, curled up on the warm earth, well camouflaged against the sandy soil in the dappled shade, half hidden by Merry's ball. The vibration of the child's fall and Sam's panicked rush had disturbed it and the head was raised, black beady eyes watchful, tongue flicking in and out. Rufus released a long low growl of fury.

       "There's a forked stick near the water butt. Can you bring it to me, Ellie?" Sam spoke in a low undertone.

       "Yes, Sam-dad." She hurried round the corner to fetch it.

       "Fro, my lad, there's a sack in the shed. Can you fetch it?" The boy dashed off.

       "You're not going to.....kill it, are you?" Frodo asked carefully. Sam could be very single-minded if his family were threatened, but Frodo hated the idea of such a beautiful creature being killed. He had seen a snake beaten to death once and had been distressed and appalled. Adders were usually shy and most snake-bites resulted from them being stepped on accidentally.

       "Course not. Just need to get it in the sack and I'll take it up to the heathland near Overhill. That's where he properly belongs." Sam moved slowly and calmly, easing the lavender bush back and pinning the snake's head gently to the earth. Frodo moved behind him and held the bush while Sam bent down and grasped the head. He lifted the creature and admired it. The children watched, wide-eyed.

       Young Fro handed the sack to his father and Sam lowered it carefully inside, then tied the neck. Everyone let out a breath. Rose sank onto the bench with Merry on her lap. Pip sat beneath the table and sucked on a skein of thread, uncertain what was going on but impressed into silence.

       Rufus gradually subsided and de-puffed himself. Then he hopped on to the bench and sniffed tentatively at Rose's face. She smiled and kissed his nose.

       "Woo-woo like me?" Merry-lad asked warily.

       "Yes, lovey. He was only trying to stop you going near the snake. If you'd been bitten you would have been in serious trouble. We just didn't understand what he was saying, did we, Rufus?"

       Little Merry held out his hand and Rufus licked the fat fingers, making the child squeal with laughter. "Tickles! Tickles, Woo-woo!" He beamed at his mother. "Woo-woo lubbly!"

       "Yes he is. And he's going to have a big dish of cold roast beef tonight as a special treat, aren't you my lad?" Rufus purred and butted her chin with his head.

       "And I'm sorry too, old lad," said Sam. "I thought you were hurting them but you were keeping them safe. Should have known you wouldn't hurt any of the little ones." He scratched behind the cat's ears.

       "He's my brave, clever lad, aren't you?" Frodo stroked the broad handsome head and Rufus purred so loudly he sounded like a spinning wheel. "I shall add a postscript to my letter and tell Aragorn about this!"

       The children all gathered round to make a great fuss of their feline friend and guardian, and Sam set off for the heath, whistling cheerily. Rose fed Pip with a piece of bread and jam and soon there were fat chuckles from beneath the table as Rufus cleaned the jam from little fingers and his own fur. Frodo sat down, pulled the letter towards him and began: P.S. You'll never believe this!

                                                                          ************

       The following Rethe, one of the King's regular parcels arrived at Bag End. There were coffee beans, chocolates, oranges, lemons, limes, and new fruit from Far Harad - a strange lumpy dark orange fruit with spiky leaves which was apparently called a pineapple, and curved yellow fruit called bananas. Everyone gathered round excitedly to taste the new delicacies. Near the bottom of the box was a soft package wrapped in crimson tissue paper and tied with silver ribbon. It was addressed to The Bravest Cat in the Shire in Arwen's distinctive hand.

       "What have we here? Rufus, this must be for you." Frodo removed the thin ribbon and waved it over the recumbent cat, who grabbed for it, scrabbled, snatched it in triumph and carried his prize into a corner.

       Unwrapping the tissue paper, Frodo saw a soft black velvet cushion cover. It was edged with white cord and had a white silk tassell on each corner. On it, embroidered in white and silver, by the hand of Queen Arwen Undomiel herself, was the White Tree and seven stars, with Rufus' name written in Westron and Tengwar letters.

       "Oh my! Rufus, you have a new cushion cover." Frodo looked around and burst out laughing when he saw that his beloved cat had managed to tie all four legs together with the ribbon and was sheepishly looking for rescue. Giggling, Rose unwound the bonds and Rufus inspected his present solemnly.

       "Not many cats have a cushion cover embroidered by an Elven Queen. You are very honoured, my friend," said Sam.

       A little later, Frodo peeped in to the kitchen. Rufus was curled on his cushion, his paws padding the soft velvet as he pussy-footed contentedly. Frodo returned to the study and began his letter to the Queen. Rufus has asked me to say 'thank you' for his beautiful present. He is trying it out as I write.

       He could almost hear the Queen's musical laughter, and he laughed too in sheer delight.

Written for Tigger, who requested a story about Aragorn receiving a small furry animal as a Yule gift from Arwen, with a little help from the hobbits. Takes place during and after the events in 'Reunion in Minas Tirith.'

l429 SR

 The hobbits were going for lunch at their favourite inn in Minas Anor. Their visit was almost over and it would soon be time to make the return journey to the Shire, to avoid any severe weather which might otherwise trouble them. They were making the most of their last few days, visiting the shops and markets for gifts to take back to friends and family. Rose carried a basket and baby Pip was secured in her shawl, resting against her breast. Sam had an armful of parcels, most of which were Frodo's as Sam had insisted on relieving him of all of them. Merry and Pippin carried assorted packages, some of them distinctly oddly shaped. It was more than time for a rest and a decent luncheon.

       "I vote we make for the Jolly Oli," said Pip. "It's only round that corner."

       "Even the baby thinks it's long past his lunch-time," said Rose. "Lead on, Pippin."

       They rounded the corner and made for The Merry Mumak - or the Jolly Oliphaunt, as the hobbits had named it in Gondor after the Coronation. It was owned by Adamir, a kind man who had gone to fight at the Black Gate, where he was injured and rescued on the battlefield by Legolas, taken to the healers and treated by the King himself. He had grown to know and love the hobbits dearly during the time in Cormallen, and after the return to the city he re-opened his inn and told his friends they would always be welcome. They had taken him up on his offer many times then, and during the recent visit.

       Adamir was outside the open door, feeding a small tabby and white cat who was rubbing round his legs.

       "Feeding the strays again, Adamir?" Merry called. The man looked up and waved.

       "She's around all the time now, and no-one seems to know who she belongs to. I'd take her in but Orci hates cats. I'm afraid he'd kill her." Orci was the massive dog who lounged behind the bar. He was a friendly enough dog, unless his master commanded him to be otherwise, but he had been attacked by a cat when young, and blinded in one eye.

       Frodo fondled the little cat's head. "She is in kitten, poor little lass. No more than a kitten herself and already expecting." He tutted and caressed the creature before reluctantly slipping round the door and closing it behind him.

       "She cries piteously when the door is closed. I hate shutting her out but what can I do?"

       "Where will she have her kittens? Poor thing."

       Pippin brightened. "Don't worry, Rose. I've an idea. Aragorn keeps saying he wants a cat of his own - we'll take her back to the Citadel and get one of the kitchen staff to look after her."

       Frodo and Sam looked at each other and back to Pip. "Eh?"

       "You'll have to excuse these two," said Merry airily as Adamir poured their drinks.. "They find Pip's thought processes hard to follow sometimes."

       Pip sighed and went on with an air of martyred patience, as though speaking to the simple. "We leave her with someone in the kitchens - old whatshisname - the Master of the Pantries - he likes cats. Then we go and find Arwen and tell her, and when the kittens are born she can choose one for Aragorn for a Yule present. It will be perfect!"

       "Well..............." Frodo looked very tempted as he sipped his ale.

       "Go on, Fro. We can carry her back in Rose's basket - she's a tame little thing and you can do anything with cats." Pippin looked inordinately pleased with himself.

       "I don't believe I'm saying this, but I think it's a good idea," said Rose. "I can't bear the thought of her having her kittens out in the street, with no shelter." She carried Pip into a back room at the invitation of Adamir's wife, and the others settled themselves and contemplated the menu.

       "What did she mean, she doesn't believe she's saying it? Is Rose trying to say she doesn't usually agree with my ideas?" Pippin looked wounded.

       "Something like that," Frodo agreed. "But she's right. The more I think about it the more I like it."

       They were interrupted by Orci ambling over to greet them, The hobbits were engaging visitors who always fed him and made a fuss of him. He was a dark brown in colour, the size of a small pony, with long ears, droopy jowls and a permanently mournful expression. His good eye was a deep brown but the right eye was a milky colour, blank and unseeing.

        "Hello Orci boy!" said Pippin, patting the large head. Orci wagged his tail, sweeping a few tankards from a low table and thwacking the wall loudly. Everyone laughed and the tail moved even faster, causing Adamir to run about, rescuing his tankards and muttering.

       "Orci1 Stop wagging that damned tail! Mind what you're doing!" He sighed as the dog gave him a puzzled look, the great brow furrowing.

       "Oh poor Orci, he looks baffled," Merry said.

       Sam patted the broad head. "Poor old lad - you don't have much control over that tail, do you?"

       Orci snuffled at Sam's pocket and happily accepted some peppermints.

                                                                             ************

       When lunch was over, the hobbits took their leave and stepped into the sunshine. The little cat was curled up on a blanket in the crate Adamir had given her as a bed, but she woke as soon as she heard voices. Sam placed the blanket in Rose's basket and Frodo lifted the cat very carefully and sat her inside, stroking her in reassurance. When she seemed settled they set off, Frodo carrying the basket over his arm. His other hand was then free to stroke the cat and hold her should she attempt to jump out. She clearly found this a little strange at first but then decided nothing bad could happen to her, and curled up, her face resting in Frodo's cupped hand. Their odd luggage drew some comments from stall holders and shoppers as they made their way back to the Citadel, but they were given and received with good humour.

       The guards in the Courtyard of the Fountain looked rather nonplussed as the cheerful group hurried past. They were used to Merry and Pippin planning pranks and bringing in peculiar things, but the sight of the Lord Frodo carrying a basket with a cat inside was more a slightly odd.

       They hastened to the area of the kitchens and made their way to the pantry block, where Lindirion, Master of the Pantries, was likely to be found. The tall, dark haired Man was going through his inventory, checking supplies and preparing an order for the merchants. He was always pleased to see the Pheriannath, and put down his pen as they appeared.

       "My dear friends! This is a pleasure. What can I do for you?" He peered in the basket and his eyebrows rose. "What is this?"

       "We found her on the first level. No-one knows where she comes from and no-one seems to want her. She is in kitten too." Pip gazed up at the Man, his face unusually serious. "Ara......our Lord Elessar has long wanted a cat of his own. We thought the Lady Arwen might like to give him one of the kittens as a Yule gift. Merry and I will go and fetch her." The two scuttled out, leaving Frodo, Sam and Rose with Lindirion.

       "I wonder if she's good at catching vermin?" the Man pondered.

       "Adamir did say she was always catching mice," Frodo replied. He glanced out into the small patch of garden behind the kitchens, where a freshly-dug square of earth marked the last resting-place of the previous kichen cat, who had died three weeks before.

       "We certainly need a new mouser. They took advantage of Tinkin's age and weakness in the last few months, and since his death they are running amok. Poison is not appropriate in a kitchen, and our lord King says better a cat than mice in the kitchen." He stroked the cat's head as she stepped daintily out of the basket and began to explore her surroundings.

       By the time Merry and Pip returned with Arwen, three dead mice were spread out at Lindirion's feet and the cat was eating from a plate of chopped chicken.

       "My Lady Queen!" Lindirion bowed.

       "Master Lindirion. I see you have a new member of the kitchen staff," Arwen murmured, her lips curving in a gentle smile.

       "She is fast and clever. I believe she will be a good replacement for Tinkin, my lady."

        Arwen lifted the cat onto a stool and ran her hands along the rounded sides. "Two kittens........due in about two weeks, I believe. Estel shall receive a double Yule gift I think. Double the trouble and double the fun, as he would say. Please keep the kittens a secret from my husband, Master Lindirion. When her time comes, please send for me. This is undoubtedly her first litter and she may be alarmed. I should like to be with her if I can."

        "I will, my Lady. I am not sure what to call her. I must think of a name."

        "She has a little doll face, doesn't she?" said Rose. "Why not call her Dolly?"

       The Man looked at the hobbits, then at the cat. Finally he nodded. "Yes, that sounds a good name - and quite ....er......hobbity. We shall always be reminded of you all."

       Dolly became aware that she was the centre of attention. She sat composedly washing herself, glancing from one face to the next. Then she curled up under Lindirion's desk and went to sleep.

       "I think she has found herself a home - with some help from you, my dear friends," said Arwen, and accompanied her guests back to the Royal Apartments.

                                                                              ************

       In Gondor the festival at Yule was called Mettarë, but Aragorn was used to celebrating in the northern fashion, so he combined the two. Gifts were exchanged and breakfast was always taken with the family. Then an audience was held, for diplomats and other guests who were in the City. It was an enjoyable time for all.

       Arwen awoke and slipped silently from the bed, leaving Aragorn sleeping. She hurried into her dressing room, where the kittens had spent their first nightaway from their mother. The two tiny creatures were asleep, curled round each other, a tangle of paws, heads and tails. When Arwen stroked them they sat up with a chirrup, yawning and stretching and clambering out of their basket, eager to be about the business of play and breakfast. They went to the tray of sand which had been left for them, relieved themselves, scratched sand in all directions and looked around for food.

        "Not yet, my little ones. Your Ada is waiting." She popped them into a box and carried it through to the bedchamber, where she placed it on the bed and leaned over to kiss her husband awake.

        "Merry Yule and a joyful Mettare, my husband." Aragorn opened his eyes and smiled when he saw his wife smiling tenderly down on him.

       "Mmmmm. What a wonderful way to be woken." He kissed her and pulled her down to him.

       "Enough of that, Estel! I have a present for you, my love."

       "Oh good! You are my present," he teased, holding her hands above her head.

       "You won't be receiving any presents at all it you don't behave yourself!" Despite her words, her reproof was gentle as she tapped him on the head..

       "Very well," he said. "I'll be good." He composed himself and settled back on the pillows.

       "Here we are - a gift from me .........with a little help from our friends in the Shire." She placed the box beside him on the coverlet.

       "What have we here - I would be prepared to swear that box moved!"

       "Moved, my love?" Arwen opened her eyes very wide and blinked innocently. "How can a box move?"

       "You have become a wicked tease since our marriage, beloved." Aragorn sat up and drew the box towards him.

       "Ah, but who taught me?" She grinned impishly and tucked her feet up under her nightgown.

       "Cheek! You needed no teaching whatsoever." He listened to the box for a moment and then raised the lid. Two small faces peeped up at him and two small mouths opened, revealing pink tongues and needle-sharp teeth. One kitten yawned and the other miaowed loudly. "Dol Amroth Swimming Cats! Where did you find them?"

       "The father may have been a Swimming Cat but the mother is a little tabby and white stray. The hobbits found her hanging around outside their favourite inn - you know, the one they call the Jolly Oliphaunt."

       Aragorn laughed. "The Merry Mumack. The landlord is a good man. So they told you about the stray cat, did they?"

       "No, they brought her back to the Citadel and gave her to the Master of the Pantries to look after. Then they fetched me, because they knew you wanted a kitten and she was obviously pregnant. The kitchen cat had died of old age and the mice were running riot, so poor Master Lindirion was only too pleased to acquire an efficient mouser." She giggled. "Our small friends seem to have a happy knack for finding the right thing at the right time."

       "They are so beautiful. Unusual markings and so pretty. Well my pretty ones, are you going to greet me?" The two naughty little imps were similarly marked - long, silver fur, with snow-white paws and tail tips, and tabby ears and tails. Their eyes were a deep jade green, rimmed with black as though painted with kohl.

       The kittens clambered out and began exploring the coverlet. Aragorn wiggled his fingers under the bedclothes and they pounced and jumped and stalked until the King and Queen were helpless with laughter.

       "Thank you, my love. They are absolutely perfect and utterly delightful. The children will be beside themselves when they see them." He pulled Arwen into his arms and they watched the tiny creatures play and tumble until they were tired out and went to sleep in the centre of the bed.

                                                                              ************

       During the Stewardship of the Lord Denethor, audiences were something of an ordeal for officials and guests. The Steward sat on a chair on a raised dais and each guest advanced, having been briefed on the correct number of steps to take, and whether to bow or kneel. Audiences with the Lord King Elessar were much less formal, and the Yule morning affair was particularly pleasurable. Light refreshments and finger food were served and the King and Queen, together with their children and the Steward and his Lady, circulated among their guests, chatting freely while the children played at one end of the chamber.

       The Lord Chamberlain and the Master of Protocol stood together, watching the guests as they waited for the royal couple. They had both been very relieved when the complex and rigid rules of etiquette were thrown out by the Lord Elessar; court audiences became a pleasure rather than a chore.

       "Here they come. What is our King wearing round his neck?"

       "It looks like.......a kitten! And there's another one tucked in his shirt, under his chin. One can hardly imagine the Lord Denethor walking round at one of his audiences with two kittens on his shoulders!"

       "The Lord Denethor would never walk around at an audience, with or without kittens!"

       "Ah! My lords. Yuletide greetings to you both. What do you think of my Queen's gift?"

       "Dol Amroth Swimming Cats - very pretty, my lord King."

       "Actually they are not - the father must have been, but they are not pedigrees, and all the better for that. These two have a healthy amount of what our hobbit friends call 'moggy' in them. So far this morning they have climbed to the top of the bed curtains, terrorised the hounds, entertained the children, eaten two meals, sharpened their claws on a beautiful Elven tapestry and upset the contents of their sand tray!"

       "Have you decided what to call them, my lord?"

       "I suspect I shall be calling them some very improper names if they continue to misbehave! However, I thought of naming them after my brothers, but decided that their talent for making mischief and causing chaos wherever they go means they can only be called after the two most rascally beings I have ever encountered."

       "And their names.................?"

       "Why, Merry and Pippin of course!"

Hobbits! Gandalf used to say that, then shake his head and smile. Now I understand, for I have spent much time with them, not only during the Quest but since. I have watched Merry, Pippin and Sam wed, I have seen their children grow and flourish in their fertile and beautiful land. They are the most beguiling, infuriating and incorrigible race in Middle-earth. Without exception. Ever.

When I arrived in Rivendell that fine autumn day, I was a grown dwarf, beyond childish pranks and nonsense - or so I thought. Within a month I was being dragged on mushroom forraging expeditions, berry-gathering treks and assisting Merry and Pippin in all manner of illegal activities centering on the food stores of Imladris. On the Quest I found myself shoving Pippin up trees to gather nuts and berries and in Lorien I had to stop him diving head first over a flet when he spotted a bees' nest.

They stitched acorns inside Aragorn's shirt, put thistles in his boots, and in Imladris they short-sheeted his bed at least twice (an apple-pie bed, they call it in the Shire - well everything is named after food of some sort!). They put pepper in his wine, salt in the sugar bowl, ink in his tea and itching powder in his smallclothes. If he can survive all that he deserves to be King of Gondor! Perhaps they should have tried it on the Uruk-hai?

In Isengard they had managed to find the food store - keeping salted pork and pipeweed from hobbits is like hiding truffles from a wild boar. Merry always manages to find apples, although I have no idea how, and Pippin can walk around Minas Tirith and know there's an inn round the next corner.

However, it was in the Shire where their capacity for mischief came to the fore. I, Gimli, son of Gloin, have been inveigled into drinking contests, pipeweed smoking challenges, games of 'wickets' and kick-ball, which they play with great dtermination, tug-o-war games and I know not what. They've had the Elf climbing trees while inebriated - and falling down drunk in ditches after seven pints of hobbit-ale, the children use me as a climbing wall and Legolas as a horse, and the strangest thing it, we put up with it! More than that, we enjoy it and go back for more. Pestilential hobbits, they creep into your heart and turn the dourest dwarf into a silly sentimental fool, and the most elegant Elf into a mischievous imp playing practical jokes on those around him. When they go to Gondor with all the children, the High King of Gondor and Arnor plays 'I-hide-and-you-seek-me' all over the Citadel and is late for important meetings because he is telling hobbit younglings bedtime stories. They really are extraordinary creatures, and have changed all of us in many ways.

Now I have sat here long enough. It is a special day here in the Shire, and I am expected at a celebration - a wedding. The son of the Thain is marrying the Mayor's daughter, and Legolas and I have been invited. Indeed, we were told the wedding could not take place without us. Hmmph! Pipeweed smoke in my eye again, blast it! Hobbits!

Takes place in 1429 SR and follows on from the AU story 'Reunion in Minas Tirith'

       "Da said I'm to do that!"

       "No he didn't. It's my turn and I'm doing it!"

       "Mine!"

       "Shut up!"

       "Stinky!"

       "Pig!"

       "Wan' Woo-woo! Woo-woo come too!"

       "Quiet!"

       Rosie was just about to abandon her cooking and intervene when another voice drowned the children's clamour. She grinned to herself - Frodo was definitely getting the hang of this discipline thing.

       Yule morning was even more chaotic than usual, now there were four children rampaging round Bag End's passageways and one anxious to join in. Following their return from Gondor the family decided they would spend Yule in Hobbiton rather than travel to Brandy Hall. Took and Brandybuck Yule celebrations tended to alternate between Buckland and Tuckborough, and it was the turn of the Brandybucks to host the festivities.

       "We will have no squabbling at Yule or there will be no gifts and no dinner!" Frodo thundered.

       "Sorry, Uncle Fro." chorused the repentant hobbits.

       "Very well. Now calm down, all of you. Ellie, you get Merry dressed. Fro, gather those dishes together for your mother. Rosie-petal, can you put all those presents into that sack. None of those are breakable so you won't do any harm."

       "Yes, Uncle Fwo."

       "And I don't think Rufus wants to come all the way to Bywater with us, Merry-lad. He'll be far happier lazing in the armchair, and we'll be home tonight." He pinched the child's cheek gently. "You'll see Gammer and Gaffer's cats anyway."

       He wandered through to the kitchen, fastening his cufflinks. "The children seem rather over-excited this morning. Understandable, I suppose."

       "Here, let me fix that collar-stud," said Rose, drying her hands on her apron. "They're beside themselves - what with us all home and going to spend the day with their Gammer and Gaffer. I'm impressed with the way you dealt with them though."

       This First Yule was to be spent at the Cotton's farm. Rose had cooked a huge goose and was peeling some vegetables, to lighten the workload for her mother. Marigold was also cooking a second goose, and this year Frodo was deemed well enough to eat rich food. Frodo was not surprised that they had been invited to the farm. He was always included in family invitations these days, Mrs Cotton being well aware that if he was not invited, Sam and Rose would refuse to attend.

       Three weeks previously Mrs Cotton had issued her invitation, sitting at the Bag End kitchen table with her daughter.

       "I hope you'll all be coming to us on First Yule, Rosie love?"

       "I'll have to ask Sam and Frodo, but I'm sure they'd love to come. You are including Frodo, I hope?"

       "Of course I'm including Mister Frodo. He's part of the family now. Wouldn't dream of leaving him out," said Mrs Cotton indignantly.

       "In that case, I think you should call me Frodo, Mrs Cotton," murmured the Master of Bag End, arriving in the kitchen fresh from a shopping trip to Hobbiton. He put down the packages, removed his gloves and warmed his hands at the fire.

       Mrs Cotton looked surprised, but her face creased in a smile. "If you put it like that, I reckon it's about time you called me Lily." She fixed him with a steady gaze. "You're family, M...........Frodo."

       Frodo's smile lit up the entire kitchen, and he took Mrs Cotton's worn hands in his. "Thank you, Lily. I am so very blessed. I have a huge family now, which extends throughout the Shire and all the way to Gondor. After my parents died I felt as though I was alone, but now I have everything I once longed for."

       "You're most welcome. You give so much to others so it's only fair that we give something back. Everyone is looking forward to you spending the day with us - even if Lilac, Peony and Blossom are a bit nervous and shy."

       These three, together with Marigold, were Rose's sisters-in-law - Lilac was married to Jolly, Peony to Nick and Blossom to Nibs. Marigold had known Frodo for years and was easy and confident around him, but to the others he was a stranger.

       "Oh dear! Does this mean they see me as some very exalted being?"

       "I should hope so!" said Sam, ambling in and removing his jacket. "You're very exalted, and those young chits had better recognise it." He was grinning as he said it.

       "You see what I'm up against?" Frodo said in mock despair, and Mrs Cotton laughed.

       Sam shooed his children out into the lane, where the cart was waiting. He clambered up and everyone else handed up all the things they would be taking with them - the goose, cooked and keeping warm on the largest covered serving dish, a ham, roast potatoes and parsnips and an apple and pear tart. There were two sackfuls of gifts too.

       Frodo helped Rose into the cart and passed Pip and Merry-lad up to her, followed by the others. Rose tucked blankets around them, as it was starting to snow a little, and she piled more straw around the hot food. The little ones rested their feet on the dish covers and giggled.

       Frodo fussed Rufus, who was curled in the armchair in the parlour, and emerged, pulling his fur-lined cloak about him. Sam had unearthed their Rivendell cloaks, which they had been given by Lord Elrond before departing on the Quest, and which were beautifully warm. They had been left in Lothlorien and returned to them in Minas Tirith by the Lady Galadriel.

       Small flakes of snow whirled and stung, which thrilled the children, who squealed and shouted as Bill and Strider moved off.

       "Hooray!"

       "We're off to see Gammer and Gaffer!"

       They sang all the way to Bywater, laughing and giggling and waving to friends and neighbours along the way. In some of the fields childen were pelting each other with small snowballs and racing about, obviously hoping for enough snow to build snowhobbits.

       By the time they pulled into the farmyard the snow was settling. The childen jumped down and raced for the house, rushing into the arms of Tom and Lily Cotton who were waiting on the doorstep.

       Inside, the house was warm and welcoming. Condensation trickled down the windows and the air was filled with the smell of delicious food and the fresh resiny smell of holly, ivy, mistletoe, pine boughs and even a small amount of juniper. Mister Cotton was preparing mulled cider, his sons had just arrived from various parts of the farm, and the wives and children were helping with cooking and laying the table.

       "Sit by the fire and get warm, Mister Frodo," said Tom Cotton cheerfully, stirring the cider carefully.

       "I thought I'd convinced your wife to call me Frodo - don't tell me she didn't tell you."

       "Force of habit, M........ Frodo. I'll try and get used to it. Now, there's mulled cider or lambswool. What will you have?"

       Lambswool was mulled ale with apples, and Frodo had not tasted any for far too long. "Some of the lambswool, please." He took the cup and settled himself comfortably in the rocking chair, feeling the heat of the fire on his face and legs.

       The converstaion was pleasant, and Frodo was relaxed, sitting there in the homely kitchen where he had spent so many hours during his stay at the farm while Bag End was restored. His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Lilac, carrying a squawling bundle. She looked exhausted and pale, and her efforts to quiet the baby were achieving nothing.

       "Lilac! You look fraught. Has she been crying for long?" He hastily offered her his chair but she sat on the stool for a moment, rocking the wailing Lavender.

       "Had me up most of the night, Mister Frodo. She's teething and I can't seem to soothe her." She pushed back a strand of hair in a weary gesture.

       "Let me take her for a while." Seeing the doubt in her face he added, "Rose will tell you I'm fairly capable with babies." Lilac nodded and handed over her little daughter. "Rose, do you have any of that teething balm?"

       Rose fished in her apron pocket and handed over a little glass jar. "Don't worry, Lilac dear. That will soothe her gums. Special Elven recipe, made up by Queen Arwen herself."

       "The Queen?" Lilac almost squealed. "She's an Elf - how does she know about teething?"

       "She's a mother - and she has lived for almost three thousand years. There isn't much she doesn't know. And her father was the greatest healer in Middle-earth." Rose hauled her sister-in-law back to the kitchen for a liberal helping of mulled cider and a lot of practical advice.

       Frodo applied the balm to the baby's inflamed gums and sat down again. He rocked the infant gently and began to sing in Sindarin, his voice almost unbearably sweet. The wails gradually diminished into snuffles and sobs, then died away. By the time Frodo had repeated the lullaby, Lavender was sound asleep, the furrows on her little face smoothed out.

       "I don't believe it. A bachelor gentlehobbit and he manages to sing her to sleep in no time!" Lilac felt all the tension roll away.

       "I told you he's wonderful with the little ones. and the ointment will help her teeth. She'll snooze for a good while now, so you can have dinner and then get some sleep, lass."

       Blossom was peeping in at the door, watching Frodo cradling the baby. "I can't believe that! He's so............. sweet! I know I've not seen him often but I always thought he was stand-offish."

       "No, just ill and sad. He was always a kind soul but he had a merry heart, and now he's recovered at last he is cheerful again, and as gentle and caring as always." Rose smiled fondly. "He's adorable with the children and they would do anything for him."

                                                                          **************

       It was a happy and noisy group which sat down to eat Yule dinner. The children had been given a separate table under Elanor's and young Roper Cotton's supervision, and the board groaned under the weight of roast goose, ham, beef, red cabbage, mushrooms cooked with onions and garlic, roast poatatoes, parsnips roasted with bacon and a drizzle of honey, carrots and sprouts. Jolly and Nibs had prepared a huge Yule log, which burned and crackled in the fireplace, releasing the smell of apple wood, herbs, pine cones and spices.

       For some time there was little conversation while everyone tucked in, but as the rate of food consumption slowed a little, small exchanges began. Lilac was discussing the honey and bacon on the parsnips with Rose, Sam talked with Jolly about the farm and Blossom plucked up courage to ask about the Queen, and how she knew how to make teething balm.

       Frodo smiled encouragingly. "The Queen's father, Lord Elrond, was a great healer for many Ages of the world, and for years she helped him in his work. She has inherited that healing skill, and the King has healing hands too. When they come north you will meet them."

       "Oh, I'd be much too scared, Mister Frodo." Blossom looked like a startled rabbit at the thought.

       "But there is not point being scared when there is nothing to fear. They are Big People, yes, but kind and gentle, noble and just. You wait - when you stand before the King and gaze into his eyes you will find he has a hobbity soul."

      "You all seem to love him very much," said Lilac.

       "We do, because he is worthy of love. He is a great Man, but he has time for the small things. That is what sets him apart from most of the Big Folk."

                                                                          *************

       To their great surprise, the Cotton lads found themselves conscripted into doing the washing-up. Frodo and Sam announced that the ladies had done all the cooking and were entitled to a rest. Nibs was startled by this instruction, as Blossom never asked him to help with household chores.

       "A bit o' washing-up won't kill you, lad," said Sam, steering him inexorably towards the kitchen.

       "Exactly!" added Frodo. "And with seven of us, it will be done in no time."

       Tom Cotton grinned. Unlike Blossom, Mari believed in sharing chores, so he was already at the sink, while Jolly sorted the plates and stacked them so they would not topple. Nick and Mr Cotton put things away while Frodo and Nibs dried and Sam cleaned the stove.

       When all was done - and even Nibs had to admit that the task had not been too terrible - they returned to the parlour and played games. Charades, blind-hobbit's-bluff, musical chairs and pass the parcel. Baby Lavender awoke smiling, to reveal a brand new tooth, Lilac returned from a nap much refreshed and then it was time to open the gifts, whereupon there was much sqealing as toys were revealed and examined - and fought over in some cases.

       Frodo was very pleased with the dark green scarf and mittens kinitted for him by Mrs Cotton. She smiled warmly as he wrapped the scarf around his neck and snuggled into the softness.

       The men-folk went out to see to the livestock, milk the cows and see them warm and safe for the night. They came back much excited.

       "Patches has had her babies!" Patches was the current pet pig at the farm, a sweet-natured sow with black markings, of the variety known as the Overhill Spot.

       Everyone grabbed cloaks and trooped out to see the tiny piglets, who were feeding, wriggling and burrowing as they competed for the rich milk. Patches looked up at the visitors and grunted her appreciation and pride. She was an experienced mother and never rolled or stepped on her little ones. Mr Cotton scratched the pig's ears and told her she was a clever lass, and filled her trough with warm mash.

       "Well, I guess that makes a perfect Yule. And that little 'un there can stay." He pointed to a piglet with a black ear and three large blotches on her back. "Patches is getting on a bit now, and I reckon this'll be her last litter. What should we call the new one then?" Mr Cotton addressed his grand-children. All sorts of suggestions were given, but suddenly he heard the quiet voice of Elanor say something. "What was that, Ellie-lass?"

       "I think we should call her Holly, because she's born at Yule."

       Frodo ruffled the fair hair. "I think that's a lovely idea."

       "So do I," Farmer Cotton agreed. "What does everyone else think?"

       The children all agreed that Holly would be a good name, Patches was patted again and left to feed her babies, and the gathering returned to the house for cake and cold cuts.

                                                                          ************

       When the time came to return to Hobbiton, the snow was crisping under a bright moon and diamond stars. Sam tied sacking round the ponies' feet so they should not slip, and everyone piled under blankets. Frodo used his new scarf to keep both himself and Sam warm as they trotted briskly through the lanes. It was strange to see the Shire under moonlight like this, everywhere white and quiet. It looked magical and almost alien, but in a comfortable way, transformed by no more than frozen water.

       Trees loomed white and stark as they left the lights of Hobbiton behind and rolled silently up the hill. Lights in New Row showed May and her family were still up. They would all be coming to Bag End for Second Yule and there would be more gifts and more good food and cheerful company.

       Rufus greeted them, complaining that the fire had gone out. He grumbled until he was lifted and carried inside and mollified with cold beef and some goose liver.

       "Never mind, my lad. We'll be staying here tomorrow," said Frodo. "You can toast your belly in front of the fire all day."

       Rufus thought that sounded like a capital idea. He curled up on his master's lap and lazily washed his ears, and listened to the fir cones popping in the flames.  

Foreyule 1429 SR

During their stay at Edoras, on the way home from Gondor, the hobbits spent a lot of time in the company of Eomer. The young king of Rohan found the Shirefolk creeping into his heart, just as they did with everyone they met. On several occasions he took Frodo out with him, seated before him on his great war horse as they pounded across the plains. He was surprised to see that Frodo was not afraid, no matter how recklessly they rode. He appeared thrilled and exhilarated, his cheeks flushed, his eyes sparkling, his laughter ringing out.

       "And I thought you might be frightened, Frodo."

       "I have been riding for years, Eomer King - and I rode upon Shadowfax with Gandalf. Even this great beast can never hope to match that one for speed. And I have complete faith in your ability to stay in the saddle."

       "Thank you! It is good to see you so well and happy, my friend. You enjoy riding, in your own land?"

       "Yes, very much, although I have not ridden for pleasure since before I left the Shire with the Ring, and poor old Strider must think me a dreadful bore, although Sam and Merry have both made sure he had plenty of exercise." He scanned the horizon. "It is a shame Shadowfax has departed. Are there none of the Mearas left in Middle-earth?"

       "Oh yes, for Shadowfax himself sired many foals. He was the lord of horses and had the pick of the mares. On our way back I shall show you some of his grandchildren." Eomer turned his horse without seeming to pull on the reins, and Frodo realised that most of the commands to the animal were given through the legs. Eomer had complete control of this highly-strung beast.

       "Saradoc - Merry's father - taught me to ride, and Paladin also gave me a lot of help. Pippin's father is the one who breeds the finest ponies in the Shire, and he knows more about horseflesh and what makes a prize animal than anyone else. I'm glad he was able to see Shadowfax briefly - apparently Gandalf paid them a visit on his way through the Shire to the Havens. Paladin still talks about it."

       "I'm sure he does. Those of us who saw that horse - and those who saw him carry the White Rider - are very fortunate. I am glad Shadowfax was allowed to accompany his master back across the Sea. The first Mearas came from Valinor, long ago."

       They picked up speed and raced back towards Edoras. Frodo rested his hands on the horse's neck and felt the muscles rippling. The ground flashed past beneath them and Frodo was almost shrieking with delight.

       "This is such fun!" He glanced up at Eomer, his face alive with joy and mischief. The family likeness to Merry and Pippin was certainly obvious when Frodo was enjoying himself.

       Eomer looked down and the small figure before him. Here was someone who had been unable to take pleasure in such things for many years, and the King of Rohan felt both anger and pity, that so fair and noble a soul as Frodo Baggins had been forced to suffer so much after selflessly saving Middle-earth. He understood why Aragorn cherished this hobbit so dearly, and tightened his embrace a little.

       "It is wonderful that you can take pleasure in such things again. Look!" He slowed his horse and pointed to a group of mares and foals grazing on some fresh grass.

       "Those white foals must be from Shadowfax - the manes and tails are dazzling. They are wild though - can they be tamed?"

       "Some of them, but one or two will always remain untamed. That is as it should be, for some things should always be unspoilt and free." Eomer laughed. "I don't know about you, Frodo, but I am becoming very hungry."

       "So am I. I hope Pip and Merry have saved something for us."

       "If they haven't there will be trouble." The King urged his horse on. Nothing should stand between a hobbit and his dinner.

       In Meduseld, the other hobbits looked in delight at Frodo, seeing his rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes.

       "Why, Frodo, you look wonderful! You've clearly enjoyed your ride. What did you do to him, Eomer?"

       "I urged my horse to gallop like the wind, but nothing frightened Frodo."

       "Of course not. This is Lord Frodo the Fearless. And this is Lord Samwise the Brave, and over there is Sir Meriadoc the Magnificent."

       "And that nonsense was prattled off by Sir Peregrin the Impudent!" Frodo chuckled, then ducked as Pip threw a spoon at him.

       "Not to mention Sir Peregrin the Addle-Pated!" added Merry.

       This last so amused Elfwine that he almost fell over, and Lothiriel was giggling madly. She found the hobbits remarkable and very pleasant company.

       "Look what we found, Fro. Sam and I went for a walk in a little patch of woodland and we found............?"

       "Mushrooms! Goodness! They look wonderful."

       "Sam has been busy in the kitchens, showing Meduseld's cooks how we prepare mushrooms in the Shire."

       Lothiriel laughed. "I told them to listen bcause hobbits know more about cooking mushrooms than anyone else in Middle-earth."

       "My lady, you have the gratitude of this particular hobbit," Frodo said gallantly, bowing over her slender hand.

       "Ah, Eomer my love, I fear you have at least one rival for my affections," she said, smiling.

       Eomer grinned. "Were it anyone else I should be furious, but as my rival is Frodo Baggins, I shall endure it."

                                                                          ************

       The first week of Foreyule saw Merry and Pippin and their wives back at Crickhollow, preparing for Yule, bringing in greenery and hanging mistletoe all over the house. As they returned with some holly they were called by one of the bounders from the bridge.

       "'Scuse me, Mister Merry sir, but there's a Ranger at the bridge with parcels for you and the other Travellers, and there's two Big Folk from Rohan as well."

       "Oh! Aragorn and Eomer must have sent some things for Yule. Come on, Pip. Let's get this holly unloaded and see what they've sent us."

       When the wagon arived at the Brandywine Bridge, Merry saw a Ranger of Arnor in his grey cloak with the star brooch. He was sitting on the bench outside the bounder's post, talking with two tall, fair-haired Men of Rohan. When they heard the wagon rumble towards them the Men stood and saluted the Captains.

       The hobbits dismounted and saluted. "Meriadoc Brandybuck, Knight of Rohan, at your service, and your families'," said Merry. He recognised the Rohirrim as housecarls of Eomer's, Aelric and Gram.

       "Peregrin Took, Knight of Gondor and Guard of the Citadel, at your service, and your families'."

       "I apologise for our appearance. We were gathering green boughs for Yule when we received your summons."

       "Not at all, Sir Peregrin. I am Mardil and I have a large crate of gifts from our Lord King Elessar, and my friends from Rohan have gifts from the Court of Meduseld. Including this - for the Ringbearer himself." The Man gestured to where Gram was leading something out of the copse.

       "Elves and wizards! That is .........that is some pony!" Merry gasped. Pip was just staring. His father bred ponies but he had never seen anything as beautiful as the milk-white beast stepping gracefully towards them.

       "His grandsire was none other than Shadowfax, lord of all horses. Our King selected and trained him personally, that he should be a fitting mount for the Lord Frodo," explained Aelric.

       "He's a beauty! I can see his likeness to Shadowfax. What's his name?" Merry stroked the pony, who nuzzled his pocket and found the peppermints he kept there for Stybba.

       "Eomer King has not given him a name. That is for the Lord Frodo to do. There is a letter for him, as well as letters for you, Sir Meriadoc. It is good to see you again."

       "Will you all return to the Hall and stay the night? It will be difficult to return to Bree now, and we have Man-sized rooms these days. My parents will be delighted to meet you."

       The Men accepted gratefully, mounted their horses and followed the wagon back to Brandy Hall and a welcome from the Master and his lady.

                                                                          ************

       The next morning the Men departed for Bree, rested and full of fine food. They carried enough sandwiches and other items to see them all the way back to Rohan, never mind Bree. Merry and Pip loaded the cart, hitched the new pony - who seemed very amiable and well-behaved - to the back, and set off for Hobbiton. At that speed they would not reach Bag End in a day, and would stay the night at The Floating Log. They kept good time and arrived at the inn in time for tea. Having settled the ponies and tidied themselves, they wandered down to see Sam's sister Daisy. She and her family lived in the pretty little cottage where Frodo had spent the first years of his life. It stood back from the road between Frogmorton and Whitfurrows amd was as pretty as a picture. Even in winter it looked utterly charming. Daisy welcomed them warmly, scolded them for not being as sensibly dressed as she thought they should be, and gave them pork pie, fresh-baked bread and lots of cake. After resting for a while, telling tales of their travels to the children, they strolled back to the inn, ate supper and went to bed.

       The morning dawned bright and clear, and the journey to Hobbiton seemed quite short. They unhitched Frodo's pony at the bottom of the Hill and Merry walked it up, while Pip took the cart up the lane past Bag End. He rapped on the green door and stood on the path, his hands in his pockets, whistling. His mother would have been horrified, for such was not the behaviour of a gentlehobbit and future Thain. Frodo emerged, and looked very surprised to see his cousin.

       "Pip! What are you doing here? Sam? Rose? Look who's here!"

       "I am delivering Yule presents from the King." He pointed. "The cart's up there."

       "Merry not with you this time?" Frodo asked in surprise.

       "He's around," said Pip vaguely.

       "Fro?" said a voice from the lane. "Come here and see what Eomer has sent you."

       "Merry? Is that you?"

       "No, it's the ghost of Belladonna Baggins!" said the voice. "I've come back to tell Sam Gamgee to stop filling up my garden with root vegetables!"

       Laughing, Frodo opened the gate and stepped into the lane. He stopped short, and stared.

       "Well? Don't stand there gaping. If the wind changes you'll be stuck like that." Merry chuckled. "What do you think of your new pony?"

       "He's..................he's magnificent!"

       "He's Shadowfax's grandson. Isn't he the most amazing pony you've ever seen?"

       Sam ran his eye over the beast. "He's a bit big. I hope he won't be too much for you, Frodo. He looks powerful."

       "He is," Merry assured him. "But he has been trained by Eomer himself, for 'the Ring-bearer'," he added with a bow and a flourish, knowing how Frodo disliked the title. "I believe that, like his grandsire, if he is willing to carry you, you will not fall."

       "I hope Strider won't be too put out," said Frodo, stroking the pony's nose. "The dear old lad has been a faithful and gentle mount for a long time, but he deserves some rest - although I doubt this one would pull a cart." He took an apple from his pocket and fed the creature. "Does he have a name?"

      "No. Eomer has left that to you. I'm sure you'll come up with something original."

       Frodo prowled all round the pony, looking at it from every angle. "Does he wear saddle and bridle or must I ride him Elf-fashion?"

       "He's trained to the bridle. Although I suppose you could ride him without tack if you wanted to."

       Frodo laughed. "I'll stick to saddle and bridle. I'm not an Elf - or a Maiar. Well, my lad, we must get you settled, introduce you to the others, and think of a suitable name for you."

       Rose petted the pony, and the children gathered round eagerly. Ellie and Fro fed him carrots and Pip lifted his little namesake and sat him lightly on the pony's back, ready to whisk him off if the animal became restive.

       "Limlight," said Frodo suddenly. "What do you think of that as a name, boy?"

       The pony nodded his head enthusiastically and licked his new master's face.

       "I think that counts as approval," said Merry. "Eomer gave him all commands in Westron, so there won't be a language problem.

       "Well, Limlight, let us take you to your new home and settle you with plenty of hay. The Cotton lads did us proud with the haymaking while we were away - the hayloft is stuffed full for the winter."

       Taking the pony's halter, Frodo led Limlight up the lane to the stables. Strider whickered softly and stuck his head over the door. Bill and Molly, Rose's pony, did likewise, and they all inspected the newcomer. Ponies are herd animals and Limlight had missed his companions from the plains of Rohan; he sniffed the others and soon there was a great deal or conversation going on. Frodo forked straw onto the floor of the empty stable until it was half way up his own legs, put hay into the rack, removed the halter and groomed his present, talking softly in a mixture of Westron and Sindarin. Limlight nuzzled the pointed ear and huffed happily.

       "There we are, my lad." Frodo took some carrots and apples from the baskets and fed Limlight, and gave some to the other three ponies. He filled the water pails, filled Molly's hay net - she overturned her trough regularly if he gave her hay in it, and closed the doors.

       Merry was waiting for him. "I've threatened Pip with a tickle to the death if he eats everything." He threw his arm round Frodo's shoulders.

       "Rose won't allow it. I think our dinner is quite safe."

       The light from the hallway cast a golden glow across the path and them disappeared as they closed the door behind them.

       In the stable Limlight chewed the sweet hay and listened, reassured, to the snuffles and whinnies from the other ponies. He had decided already that he liked the small, cheerful people, and his master was special. There was an aura around him which drew the pony like a moth to a candle. A great one, full of light. The Ring-bearer. Limlight did not understand the title but he knew it was important, because Eomer King had said so. A special pony for a special master, Eomer had said. Limlight was content.

Cold. He was so cold. It was a cold which seemed to be inside him, at his core, yet his skin seemed to be on fire, particularly in his neck, shoulders and up into the back of his head. He could see very little in the dim red light from the lamp above. His head throbbed and his vision blurred as he peered up at his tormentors. Clawing hands were all over him, prodding, poking, wrenching. Words, barely audible in the din of squealing, battered him.

       "Where is it, little filth?" A whip lashed into his back, prompting a weak cry of pain "What have you done with it?"

       What were they talking about? Did they mean the Ring? Then they did not have it. But if not, then who did? He wished he could remember what had happened. There had been darkness and an unbelieveable stench, so foul that he and Sam had gagged as they moved past the tunnel entrance, hands clasped for safety and comfort......Sam! Where was Sam? Was he alive? Were they torturing dear Sam somewhere else in this foul place? Was he dead, somewhere in those tunnels?

       Frodo came to himself with this thought, which was followed by another appalling moment of awareness: he was naked! Why had they done this? He tried to think clearly, at the same time rolling into a more decorous position on the rough stone floor. The sudden movement made his head swim alarmingly. He was yanked up by his hair, and a hideous, snarling face pushed close, loathesome breath hot against his cheek. He tried not to heave as the orc traced a line down his throat with one claw.

       "Pretty, ain't he? Reckon we deserve a reward for catchin' 'im!" The other hand stroked Frodo's hip and came to rest on his thigh. Frodo choked back a scream of horror as he realised what they meant to do.

       "No! Please, no, not that!" The words came out in a whimper, his nausea threatening to overwhelm him.

       Almost fainting with the agony in his neck, he managed to twist his head to one side just in time, as his stomach muscles contracted and he vomited uncontrollably, convulsing with effort. The orc let go of him in surprise and he fell to his knees, stomach still clenching although there was nothing left to come up. He fought not to pass out, coughing and retching, dry heaves wracking his frame.

      "I 'ope that was due to 'er Ladyship's poison and not because you don't fancy a little fun?" The orc spoke in an insinuating tone, rough and crude as his actions. He hauled Frodo upright again and slid his foul hand over the milk-white skin. "Nice," he said appreciatively. "I think we'll enjoy this!"

       "There's to be no molesting of the prisoner!" said another voice suddenly, and the noise subsided into mutinous mutterings. "Report's just come in that there's an Elf warrior loose in those tunnels. Now get out there and find the bastard before 'e comes 'ere looking for 'is little friend. Move, you useless scum!"

       With a last glance at the prisoner, the orcs departed. The one in charge picked up Frodo's clothes and put a plate and cup on the floor.

       "Apparently we've gotta feed yer until yer go ter Lugburz. Dunno why, but they seem ter think yer important. Yer clothes are all going, although this is much too nice for any there." He held up the mithril coat and looked at it. "Worth a pretty penny, I don't doubt. Now you just stay nice and quiet and perhaps no-one'll bother yer."

                                                                           *************

       Left to himself, Frodo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and huddled on the pile of rags, shivering with cold and fear......and something else. The Ring's absence was a torture in itself, as though a gaping hole had been torn in his soul. Was this how it would be when it was gone for good? How could he endure it? He had placed it on the pillar in Rivendell and thought he was rid of it, but life was never that simple.  If he had not volunteered, he could have gone back to the Shire, not quite the same as before, but with a hope of recovery. Now he realised that the Ring had become part of him, just as it had become part of Gollum, and when it went it would take the essential Frodo with it, leaving...........................what? A husk. A shell with no soul, no warmth. He had fallen to its power and proved himself as unworthy as the Nine, as Isildur, as poor Smeagol. There could be no life for him after this, he knew. No love, no tenderness. He was unworthy of love, he did not deserve it. He could never go back to his old life; his very presence would contaminate the Shire and everyone in it. They would try to help him, he knew, but he could not allow it, for their sake. In his distraught state there seemed only one solution.

       He crawled over to the plate, hoping they had left a knife. If the Ring was gone and Sam was dead then there was no point continuing. He would take the knife and cut his wrists. Death would be quick and fairly painless, and no-one would miss him. He was worthless, no use to anyone. Most important, the Dark Lord would be denied his chance to gloat and watch his torture. Boromir's words echoed in his brain..."They will find you. They will take the Ring. And you will beg for death before the end."

       No knife. He cursed. The rags were too flimsy to use as a rope and the window bars much too high to hang himself. He slumped back on the makeshift, filthy bed. Frodo Baggins, total failure. Unable even to kill himself. On top of everything he now realised that he wanted the food. They had eaten so little recently, and he had thrown up what he had inside. His stomach was starting to cramp badly for lack of food. It was not wonderful but it looked edible. He despised himself for even considering his own needs at such a time, and tried to ignore his hunger for some time. Self-preservation warred with self-pity inside him, and survival won.

       He ate the food, which was surprisingly tolerable. He was ravenously hungry and, with the orcs gone, the mind-numbing terror had decreased a little. From somewhere on the floor beneath, he could hear raised voices. The orcs were arguing.......about dividing up the spoils, from the sound of it. Screams and curses rose in volume, together with some gurgling which made Frodo's hair stand on end. They were killing each other. What if they were all dead? He would starve to death........or the orcs from Barad 'dur would come......

                                                                          ************

        The silence was almost worse than the noise. Frodo had no idea how much time had passed. There was no way to tell, with no light save the red lantern. He thought he dozed on the pile of rags, trying to cover himself and not become too chilled. Aragorn always went on about the need to maintain body warmth. He tried not to think too much. His thoughts were too dark and terrible now, and he missed Sam, poor Sam, probably dead somewhere. He remembered those gleaming red eyes in the darkness, and pain in his neck........a spider, massive and terrible, reminding him of Bilbo's stories of Ungoliant, who poisoned the Two Trees of Valinor. He felt the lumps on the back of his neck, which still stung and burned. It was almost impossible to turn his neck at the moment. Had Sam been a victim also? Was the foul thing eating Sam even now?

       A sob escaped him. "Sam......please....... Sam. I'm sorry I've been so cruel to you. Don't leave me here in the darkness alone. If you're dead then come to me anyway, even if you're a ghost. I want to see you, even if you come to taunt and torment me. I'd rather that than nothing..........I know I don't deserve anything from you after the way I've treated you.........Forgive me......... oh, forgive me..........." Scalding tears ran down his face and he sobbed himself into total exhaustion before slipping into a fitful doze.

                                                                           *************

       No-one returned to the little room at the top of the tower. Frodo had no idea if hours or days passed, as he lay there, sore from whip lashes, kicks, the poison of the bites on his neck. Even the old wound in his shoulder throbbed and gnawed, its deadly cold beginning to spread despite his attempts to keep warm. A sound made him lift his head. A voice......singing.......here? He strained to listen. The tune was an old one from the Shire, but the words were unfamiliar to him.

       "Though here at journey's end I lie

       in darkness buried deep,

       beyond all towers strong and high,

       beyond all mountains steep,

       above all shadows rides the Sun

       and stars forever dwell:

       I will not say the Day is done,

       nor bid the Stars farewell."

       Frodo began to sing, his voice weak but determined. He had always been able to carry a tune, so Bilbo often said, and something gave him strength.

       "You up there! Dunghill rat! Stop your squeaking, or I'll come and deal with you. D' you hear?"

       Footsteps sounded, followed by another unlovely snarl. "Alright. But I'll come and 'ave a look at you all the same, and see what you're up to."  The trapdoor in the floor was flung open and an orc appeared. "You lie quiet, or you'll pay for it! If you don't want the fun to begin right now, keep yer trap shut! There's a reminder for you!"

       A whip lashed into his side and Frodo cowered back, arms shielding his face and head. The whip rose again but the blow never fell. A yelling shape flew across the floor, the orc turned at the cry of rage, and a shining blue blade sliced the whip hand off. The screaming orc made a rush for the ladder, there was a cry and a thud, and silence.

       "Frodo! Mr.Frodo, me dear!" said a voice, and Frodo felt himself lifted and cradled against a familiar chest. He must be dreaming. Orcs turning into Sam......... Gentle fingers stroked his face.

       "Sam? This cannot be..........surely...........?" he faltered.

       "Master, it's me. I've come." He was held firmly in Sam's strong arms and could only marvel at this miracle. He knew he did not deserve Sam's love after all his harsh words. Had he not taken his sword to poor Sam, almost killed him? Why was Sam troubling himself with such a worthless master?

       "I don't deserve you, Sam," he murmured. "Why bother with me after all I've said and done? Leave me now and get away while you can."

       "What nonsense, Mr.Frodo. I'm not going anywhere without you, me dear." He kissed Frodo's forehead very carefully. "You've done nothing, Master. Don't you fret now, your Sam's here and he ain't going anywhere without you."

       "I've said such hurtful things, Sam, called you names, pulled a sword on you, pushed you away...." He had thought there were no tears left but fresh ones spilled down his pale cheeks, leaving tracks in the dirt streaks. "I.............I.............I'm no better than Gollum!"

       "Listen to me," said Sam firmly. "You are nothing like that rotten Stinker! He killed his bestfriend within minutes of seeing the Ring! You didn't drive that sword home, even under the influence of the Ring and with the Black Rider so near! You resisted, even then! Don't ever believe you're anything like him, because it's not true!" He cupped Frodo's face in his hands and kissed him reverently on the brow, his hazel eyes blazing as he forced Frodo to meet his gaze. Red-rimmed blue eyes, awashwith tears, stared back. "You deserve everything good, nothing bad! I'm here because I want to be.When I thought you were dead, I wanted to die too. I'm here because........I love you. Always have, always will."

       "Oh, Sam!" Frodo clutched Sam's weskit and buried his face in his friend's shoulder. "What would I do without you, Sam, dear Sam?"

       "Bless us, me dear, if I have any say in the matter, you'll never have to." Sam soothed his master, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

       "Galadriel was wrong about one thing, Sam. You are my light in dark places. Only you  ..........  always."

       They would have to move soon, Frodo thought. But for the moment he was content to lean against Sam and be comforted.

The rain seemed to have set in for the day. It trickled down the windows, ran in rivulets along the lanes, carried twigs, leaves and small stones in swirls and soaked the flower and vegetable beds in the gardens at Bag End.

       Sam tutted under his breath, fretting about the battering his flowers were receiving.

       "Never mind, Sam. It saves you having to water. The flowers will bounce back." Frodo swirled the tealeaves in the pot and replaced the lid.

       "The roses will look tatty after such a pounding. Why does it have to be all or nothing?"

       "Ah but think how fresh and clean the garden will look - and smell," Frodo teased.

       Sam grinned. "Tou're being a proper little ray of sunshine, aren't you? Alright, I'll stop grumbling. The little ones are bored."

       "They're being too quiet too," said Rose. "Best see what they're up to, or who knows what will happen?"

       Frodo ambled down the passageway and looked in at the nursery. Frodo-lad and little Merry were playing quietly with a fort and some soldiers which Aragorn had sent for the older Gamgee lad's birthday.

       "Oh! Where are your sisters?"

       Merry-lad shrugged. Young Fro turned and smiled at his uncle. "I think they're in the parlour."

       Frodo walked back, looking thoughtful. He made his way to the parlour and listened to the intense whispered chatter and giggling. As silent as only a hobbit could be, he edged closer and looked round the door frame. The two girls were busy tending to Ellie's dolls' cradle, solicitously tucking blankets round the occupant. He felt rather guilty for suspecting the children of mischief when they were clearly amusing themselves very well.

       "So, my dears, which of your dolls is in there today?"

       He was surprised that both lasses looked so shifty. Peering in to the cradle, he soon discovered the reason for their discomfiture. Rufus was sprawled inside, his furry face a picture of disgruntled and long-suffering resignation. He was wearing a little blue knitted jacket and a matching bonnet which the girls had found in the nursery closet. They did not suit him.

       Frodo schooled his expression carefully, not wishing to embarrass the children or his beloved cat, who hated being laughed at. "I think you may want to take those off him in a minute. I don't think he likes clothes."

       Ellie sighed. "He let us dress him but now he's getting a bit cross."

       Sam appeared in the doorway. "Anything wrong?"

       "No, Sam, we're just..........."

       Frodo managed no more before Rufus erupted out of the cradle and streaked for the door, grumbling to himself. Less than a minute later, and before Sam had had time to register that he had seen a cat in a woolly jacket and frilly bonnet, there was a clatter from the kitchen, followed by "What in the Shire.......?"

       "Ooops!" said Rosie-lass. I think Mum's seen him."

       "I think you're right, lass." her father agreed. He looked at Frodo, who was snorting and giggling helplessly. "You alright?"

       "I'm fine..........Just............." He waved a hand and sank on to the footstool, laughing uproariously.

       Rose arrived. "Now you can call me a ninnyhammer, but I've just seen a cat in a bonnet. Am I cracked or is there something you want to tell me?"

       They found the cast-off bonnet in the passage and an indignant cat in the kitchen, still fighting his way out of the jacket. Frodo removed it and found some food as a peace offering. Rufus regarded the girls in a suspicious manner but Frodo allowed them to give the cat his food and make a fuss of him.

       Sam returned from the nursery with the boys and announced that the rain had stopped. Within seconds the smial was silent as four young hobbits raced into the lane to jump in puddles, squealing and shrieking..

       When Frodo went into the parlour to collect a book, he found Rufus curled up inside the dolls' cradle, sound asleep with his tail wrapped round his nose.

       "Contrary cat," he said fondly, and Rufus purred.

On their visit to Gondor in 1429 SR, the hobbits visit Ithilien and see what the people of Harad and elsewhere have sent to King Elessar.

Takes place in my usual AU, during the visit to Gondor described in 'Reunion in Minas Tirith.'

Two bear cubs sported and tumbled in the grass, trundling after their mother as she hunted for pieces of fruit which had been hidden inside a log. Rose had never seen anything so delightfully cuddly and rotund. She wished she could pet them but she knew that the mother bear would not allow it, and even at such a tender age the cubs had sharp claws and teeth.

       They were visiting the large menagerie, which consisted mostly of animals which had been presented to Aragorn as diplomatic gifts. It was not practical to have such a thing in the city but South Ithilien was perfect. There was plenty of room for the animals to have a certain amount of freedom and a natural life, with trees for cover and glades and pools to play and feed in.

       Gimli laughed. "I see all those poor bewildered bears you took out of the bear-baiting pits have settled. Beorn would approve." He nodded over to a vast area where several bears splashed in a stream.

       "Poor things," said Frodo. "Those and the dancing bears were the most upsetting thing about our first glimpse of the White City. I was surprised they'd survived at all."

       "They were chained up, otherwise they would have panicked and fled, adding to the general confusion. I always disliked such so-called sports, and it was one of the first things I did, freeing the poor things. Some of the city's wealthier ladies helped to care for them and pay for them to be transported here. Some of them are old and scarred, but they have mostly recovered from their ordeals and seem to enjoy life here in the woods. They are too used to being fed to fend for themselves, but they do well."

       Frodo pointed to something which appeared above some of the trees. It was clearly the head of a large animal but it looked extraordinary - a bit like a horse, a little like a deer, and yet not really like anything else they had ever seen, with pricked ears, small protuberances like blunt horns, and a very long dark tongue which appeared supple enough to wrap around leaves and branches.

       "I've seen a picture of this in one of Bilbo's books! It's a.........a giraffe! I had no idea they were so tall!"

       Faramir chuckled. "No, they are rather a shock the first time you see one. These two are quite tame though, at least to the people who work with them. They will take fruit from your hand if you are very quiet and still."

       One of the creatures emerged from the cover of the trees and looked at them. After some minutes, perceiving them to be no threat, it strolled on enormously long legs towards the fence and peered down. It was strangely marked, with a pale coat covered in dark reddish-brown blotches.

       "Who is looking at who, I wonder?" Sam mused.

       "Look at the length of those eyelashes!" Rose exclaimed. "There's any number of lasses who'd give their eye teeth to have lashes that long!"

       Aragorn laughed. "Now that is a comment I have not heard before, Rose. Although I see what you mean - those lashes are longer than a cow's."

       Merry held up a piece of fruit and the animal, after a moment's consideration, took it with great care. Soon all five hobbits were feeding both giraffes with fruit and choice bits of greenery, even managing to stroke their heads and necks.

                                                                          ************

       Following a picnic lunch they returned to view more of the sanctuary. Sam was surprised that the lions were so peaceably indolent. He had expected them to be snarling, fighting beasts and it was something of a shock to see them lounging in a clearing, grooming themselves like any fireside cat.

       The tigers, from the jungles of lands beyond Harad, were more intimidating. They moved with oiled grace, magnificent and menacing, plunging into a pool inside their large enclosure and sparring.

       "They really are the most beautiful animals," said Aragorn, his voice full of admiration. "The largest of all the big cats."

       "Cats? You mean they're related to cats?" Rose was astonished.

       "It is thought so. Gandalf told me this once, and I have read it in books while in Rivendell. There are certain similarities."

       "Well I never," Sam murmured. He squinted at the massive striped cats as they wrestled in the water. "Good thing Rufus didn't grow that big!"

       Merry started to chuckle. "You wouldn't try moving him off your chair if he was!"

       "Or rub his tum with your toe!" Pip said with a howl.

       "They look so brightly coloured, and yet in long grass they almost disappear. I suppose that enables them to sneak up on their prey, much as Rufus does?" Frodo mused.

       Eldarion was gazing intently at the beasts. "They're my favourites. Those and the leopards. I wish I could touch one."

       "Perhaps if there is an orphan or rejected cub you may be able to at some future time, but we do not normally touch them. Their keepers can do so though, but they have known them a long time. It can be difficult to treat them if they are sick, because we cannot examine them. But here in Ithilien they are well cared-for, the air is healthy and they are properly fed." Aragon smiled. "I try to make it known that I do not like to keep animals in captivity, and most lords have stopped trying to present me with oddities. In the very far north, in the lands of ice, there are white bears. One of those would be deadly, since their expression does not change when they are about to attack, giving attendants no warning. I would hope no-one would ever be foolish enough to give me one of those, but you never know."

       Faramir and the King exchanged a glance. "I think you will be interested in our most recent additions, Sam. We have been saving them till last for you."

       They rounded a corner of high fencing and trees and arrived at the entrance to a huge enclosure. In front of them was a pool, and playing in it, spraying the attendant with impish glee was a creature Sam recognised at once.

       "It's a baby oliphaunt! Stars and glory! I never thought I'd see one again."

       "A baby?!" Rose gasped. "If that's a baby, how big is the mother?"

       Merry pointed to the right, where another attendant was sluicing water over a full-grown mumak.

       "Does that answer your question, Rose?"

       "That baby is adorable," said Pippin.

       The attendant, a smiling Haradri with a black moustache and very white teeth, brought his young charge forward. The little creature was covered in a surprising amount of hair and had large eyes and a winsome expression.

       "Sweet," said Rose. "How old?"

       "Six months, ma'am." The man spoke heavily accented Westron.

       "How long do the mothers carry for?" Rose curved her hand in front of herself to indicate pregnancy.

       "Almost two years."

       "Then I'm very glad I'm not a mumak!" she responded, to much laughter.

       The creature responded happily to fuss and petting. Rose giggled when it stretched out its trunk and explored Frodo's face. He caressed the oliphaunt's face and head, talking softly. Legolas drew the mother forward, and she joined her offspring in examining the Ring-bearer.

       "Hopefully no more need die in futile wars," said Legolas. "They are now used to move logs and other heavy loads, for they are intelligent. Usually they live in large family groups but the mother was left an orphan when so many of her own group were taken for use as beasts of war. She has been cared for by her handler, who came from Harad to remain with her, and to teach others how they should be treated."

       The mother moved to her baby, going over it carefully with her trunk. The young one responded and pushed underneath her to suckle.

       "I never thought I'd see an oliphaunt," Rose said as they withdrew and walked back towards their camp.

       "And now you have?" asked Aragorn.

       "I thought they sounded fearsome but they seemed so gentle and the mother was very loving to her baby."

       Frodo sighed. "Anything can be a weapon in the wrong hands, Rose. Men used the creatures' size to dominate and injure. It wasn't the poor animals' fault. I'm so glad they weren't all killed. And I'm sure Sam is delighted that they're still around."

       "I am that. Perhaps one day the children will be able to see one."

       "Knowing our children they'll want one as a pet!"

       Merry snorted. "Well, that will give Mrs Goodloam something to gossip about!"

       "Something other than Mad Baggins you mean?" Frodo asked, to the amusement of his friends, as they sat down to supper, surrounded by the sounds of the menagerie and the native creatures of Ithilien.

Going to Mordor was not the greatest test for the Ring-bearer and his faithful Samwise. With Rose out for an evening, putting five little hobbits to bed makes that trip to Mordor look like a quick hike to Scary.

1430 SR

       "Spdatt!" yelled little Pip triumphantly, waving his spoon.

       An Elvish curse from Sam caused Frodo to spin round, just in time to see his friend with a lump of well-aimed scrambled egg sticking to his forehead.

       "Pippin!" Frodo said reprovingly. "That's naughty!"

       Another lump of fast congealing egg hit Frodo full in the face and slid down onto his shirt and waistcoat.

       "Bugger!"

       Frodo-lad sniggered, then looked down and busied himself with his own supper as his uncle turned a chilly gaze on him.

       Sam tapped Pip's hand. "Naughty!" He grabbed the spoon and tried to feed his youngest son but Pip was upset and began to howl. Merry-lad joined in, upset that his brother was in trouble.

       "Merry Gamgee! Stop that noise at once!" Frodo sounded more than a little fraught. Rose had gone down to New Row to spend an evening with May and Ivy Sandyman, and he and Sam had volunteered to put the children to bed.

       "No!" shouted Merry. "Pip had more 'n me!"

       "No he didn't. He's just messing about with it. You've eaten yours. Now stop being silly and fill up the corners with some strawberries."

       "Don't like!"

       "Yes you do."

       "No!"

       "Very well, don't then. Go without." Frodo whisked the dish away, only to find Merry-lad stretching out his hands and screaming.

       "I'll put them over your head in a minute, my lad," Sam muttered, wiping his face and tossing the dish towel to Frodo.

       Merry decided to pre-empt his father, grabbed a handful of strawberries and ground them into his own hair, then threw some more across the kitchen.

       "That does it!" Frodo snatched Merry from his high chair and marched down the passage to the bathroom. Sam turned his attention to the rest of his offsrping.

       "Rosie-lass, you can go and get ready for bed. You two can pick up the toys and put them in the chest."

       "We didn't make a mess with them....." Ellie began but tailed off at the look on her father's face.

       "I don't care who made the mess. You can clear it up."

       "That's not fair!" Fro protested. "Why don't you make Mer clear them up? It's always us."

       "Your brother is having squashed strawberries removed from his hair at the moment." He paused as the screams from the direction of the bathroom confirmed that this was the case. "Now do as you're told or you'll all be going to bed without supper for the rest of the week."

       "There's a monster in the nursery." Rosie-lass said sulkily. "I'm not going by myself."

       "There are no monsters anywhere in the Shire and certainly none in Bag End. Now go and get ready for bed, or you'll make me cross."

       Rosie trailed off down the passage, muttering quietly. Frodo returned and Sam looked him over sympathetically. It was not easy to determine who was wetter - Merry-lad or his uncle. Water dripped off Frodo's curls, his brocade waistcoat was dark with water and his shirtsleeves sopping.

       "Don't say a word," Frodo said through gritted teeth. He grabbed Merry's nightshirt and dressed the lad quickly, ignoring the mutinous scowls.

       Baby Pip had managed to cover every surface with scrambled egg, as well as pressing it into his high chair, his hair, his clothes and the cat's fur. Sam lifted the baby and departed for the bathroom, which looked as though a hurricane had been through it.

       With Merry-lad safely back in his high chair for the moment, Frodo took the opportunity to clean up the mess Pip had made. Scraping dried egg off the wall was not something one could find a solution for in any book from Rivendell. He doubted little Elves hurled their food around. He found himself wondering if little Estel had been a bit of a shock to the likes of Glorfindel and Erestor. Killing a Balrog is one thing but dealing with a small child intent on mischief was something else again. He tried to keep himself amused by picturing a baby Dunedan flinging egg in Elrond's face, but decided that was too unlikely to have ever happened.

       Sam returned with a damp and furious baby and popped him into the now spotless high chair. Frodo was still scrubbing at the wall, muttering fluently in several languages. It occurred to Sam that Adunaic was quite expressive on these occasions.

       Ellie and Fro appeared, having tidied the parlour. Sam went to inspect their handiwork and then ushered them off to wash and change. Frodo had discovered that one problem with washing a wall was that the newly cleaned section simply revealed how grubby the rest of it looked, and he had embarked on a cleaning frenzy his foster mother Esme would be proud of.

       "Finished? Those three are in bed. Now we'd best get these two down for the night."

       Sam took Merry and Frodo carried the baby. Pip was soon tucked into his cradle, where he chattered away to himself, showing no inclination to nod off. Merry-lad was still sulking and turned his back when Sam began a bedtime story. The two girls snuggled in their bed and Fro sat up, gazing at his father. Frodo went off to his bedroom to change out of his wet clothes.

       Both hobbits had barely settled themselves in the kitchen when they heard shouting from the direction of the nursery. Less than a minute later Rosie-lass was in the doorway.

       "Fwo keeps making scary noises."

       "If you know it's your brother, take no notice. He'll get bored in a while."

       "There's a monster under the bed."

       "Nonsense. Now go back to bed, tell your brother to stop being silly, and go to sleep."

       Two minutes later she was back. "Ellie took my doll. Tell her to give it back."

       "Elves and dragons! Ellie!" Sam roared. "Give your sister her doll and go to sleep!"

       "I haven't got her stupid doll!" Ellie marched into the kitchen. "It fell off the bed. Why do I have to share a bed with a stupid baby?!"

       "Am not a baby. You stink!"

       "You stink! And you keep kicking me."

       "Lasses, stop this at once! What has come over you tonight?" Sam took both daughters by the arms and led them back to the nursery. No sooner had he returned and taken out his pipe than Fro was at his elbow.

       "They're keeping me awake. They keep giggling."

       "Oh Eru!" Frodo groaned. "How much more?" He walked back with the lad, tucked him into bed, kissed them all and told them to be quiet.

       Ten minutes later and Rosie-lass was back again, asking for a drink. Sam sighed heavily and took her to the kitchen, gave her a glass of water and accompanied her back to bed. The sight of the water made the others decide they were thirsty and Sam stumped back to the kitchen for a water jug and more cups. Then Merry-lad drank his too quickly, choked, had a coughing fit and was sick all over his nightshirt and the bedcovers.

       "Sticklebacks!" Sam said as he carried Merry back for another wash while Frodo changed the bedding and found another nightshirt. It was turning out to be a very long and trying evening.

       Cleaning up took the better part of an hour. Frodo walked into the parlour and flopped down in the armchair. "Sam? We went all the way to Mordor. We fought Orcs and trolls and a giant spider. How is it that five little hobbits can defeat us?"

       "Don't ask me," said Sam gloomily. He poured a generous brandy for Frodo and sipped his own.

       "Are they finally asleep?"

       "I think so. The talking has stopped but I didn't dare go in and look too closely." He gulped down a large helping of brandy and leaned back with a sigh.

                                                                           ************

       "Sleeping while in charge, eh?" Rose's voice woke both hobbits, who started guiltily and sat up very straight in their chairs.

       "We weren't really asleep, Rose-wife. Just resting our eyes a bit."

       "That old excuse! Looks as though they wore you out."

       "No, not at all. They were fine," said Frodo brightly.

       "Stop telling stories, you two. I don't know what they've done but the place looks as though it's been invaded by a horde of Orcs. I can't leave you two for one evening without you making a pig's ear of things!"

       "What do you mean?" Frodo asked, plastering his most innocent expression across his face.

       Rose giggled. "Where do I start? The kitchen wall is covered in scrambled egg, Merry's hair reeks of strawberries, there's water all over the bedroom floor, the bathroom looks as though the Brandywine went through it and there's a basket full of wet clothes, dirty bedclothes and I don't know what else."

       "All right, Rose, we admit it. They were horrendous. Next time you can stay here and we'll go and gossip at the sewing circle."

       "Harder work than it looks, eh? Now you know what hard work it is, bringing up bairns. I assume you now appreciate me a little better?"

       They assured her that they did, and all three sat and watched the fire, while peace finally reigned throughout the smial.

Spring 1372

        "Esme!" The little voice was full of excitement. "Esme!"

        Esmeralda Brandybuck hurried along the path to join the little boy and his mother. They were standing under a gnarled beech tree, looking up at a pretty little blue and yellow bird which was perched above him on a twig.

       "Hello, my little love. What can you see?"

       "Birdie," said the fauntling, pointing one chubby finger at the tree. "Pwetty."

       "Yes, it is pretty. It's a blue tit. Look, there's another up there." She pointed to another branch, where a second bird hung upside down to peck at some seeds.

       "How it do dat?" The small face wore such an expression of puzzled wonderment that Esme and Primula could not stifle their giggles.

       "His toes curl round the branch and hold on tight." Esme crouched and pulled the child close. "There's a greenfinch up higher - see him?"

       "Uh-uh." he nodded.

       "There's a robin over there in the flowerbed," Primula whispered.

       "If you stay very still he might come closer," Esme told Frodo. "Here he comes."

       Frodo was motionless as the bird hopped between his feet, looking for insects in the freshly-turned earth. His eyes widened and his mouth became a round O of delight.  

       "He's fascinated by everything! I can't keep up with his questions," Prim whispered to Esme. "Such a curious little mite, always wanting to know why and how and where. It must be a Tookish thing. He certainly doesn't get that from dear Drogo."

       "Took and Brandybuck," replied Esme. The Tooks are adventurous but the Brandybucks are the ones who want to know all the answers."

       "I suppose we do..............but the Tooks want to know all the questions!"

       "A perfect combination." She and Saradoc had not been married long, and everyone teased them that they were as spoony as when they were first betrothed.

       "What he looking for?" queried the little lad, fixing Esme with his enormous blue eyes and glancing back at the robin.

       "The robin likes to eat insects which live in the soil. The gardeners turned this patch just now, so there are lots of things for robin to eat. It's why he's known as the gardener's friend."

       A sudden movement in the tree caught the child's attention and he pointed. "Squirl!" he said with a chuckle.  "Look, Mama! Squirl!"

       Primula whisked her son into her arms. "Yes, a squirrel. And what do squirrels have?"

       "Fuffy tails!" Frodo squealed and giggled as his mother hugged him. "Upsy-down, Mama! Upsy-down!"

       A beaming Prim turned him slowly until she held him securely by the ankles. "Such an adventurous baby."

       "A small pout formed on the sweet face. "No baby! Big lad now."

       "Yes, you are, aren't you? Out of swaddling, so I hear?" said Esme, taking the opportunity to tickle her little cousin. He nodded proudly.

       Primula sighed. "I suppose he'll be wanting to leave his Mama soon, growing up so fast."

       "No, Mama. I not leave - but I not baby."

       His mother laughed. "Well, that's me put firmly in my place. Very well, my treasure. I shall call you my big lad from now on. Will that suit you, my master?"

       "Yes!" he cried, wriggled out of her grasp and ran lightly across the spring grass.

       Esme giggled. "He's so determined. He has the Baggins stubbornness at any rate. If I have a child I hope he and Frodo will be friends."

       "I feel sure that your son and Frodo will be as close as brothers, my dear."

       Esme tucked her arm through Prim's and they walked back towards the Hall, watching little Frodo as he ran and jumped, stopping now and then to admire the daffodils. She was surprised when Primula halted and turned to face her, her expression earnest.

      "Esme? Promise me one thing. If anything ever happens to Drogo and me, look after my lad."

      "Of course I'd look after him. But nothing is going to happen to you and Drogo."

       Primula held Esme's hands in hers for a moment. "I........don't know...........sometimes I think I shall not live to see him grow up. I had such strange dreams while I carried him, and even now I sometimes see him in my mind as he will be as a teen and tween, and I know I'm not there. He will need looking after - lots of love and caring. I don't know why, but I feel he is important. Oh I know you'll think I'm silly, but I think he has something to do - I don't know what, but when I told Gandalf my dreams he didn't laugh, and I saw surprise on his face. Surprise and alarm. I wish I knew what it meant."

       Esme embraced her friend. "It means you're a mother, and mothers always worry. That's what my Mum says.  Now let's go and find some elevenses, because I suspect this young gentlehobbit is hungry. Am I right, Master Frodo Baggins?"

       "'Levenses!" he said. Taking their hands in his, Frodo dragged them back to the Hall at a run.

Halimath 1430

It was unnaturally quiet in the smial with Sam, Rose and the children all away. They had gone to Michel Delving, Sam for some Mayoral duties which would keep him away for a week, and Rose had taken the children to visit her cousin Magnolia, a farmer's wife. Frodo found it strange to be on his own after so many years when they had never left him for a second, but he was enjoying a week of being in sole charge of Bag End. It was quite like old times, pottering about, making second breakfast, strolling as far as the Green Dragon for supper, or calling in at the Cotton's farm, as he had been instructed to do by motherly Mrs Cotton. He went to the stables each morning, mucked out the stalls, released the ponies into the paddock, filled hay nets and water troughs and rode Limlight and Strider. He also collected the eggs from the chickens which Rose had decided to keep.

       Rose deserved a holiday. She cooked and cleaned and cared for everyone, and he had been pushing her to go and have a break. He was thrilled when he finally convinced her that he was capable of looking after himself for a few days. He also knew that she had quickened again, and that a new baby would be added to the family come Thrimidge: Goldilocks Gamgee, who would be almost as fair as Ellie, sunny natured as Sam's mother, capable as Rose. The quiet batchelor haven was now a joyous family home and he was at the heart of it, surrounded with love and laughter.

       Having washed up his plate and cutlery after lunch, Frodo wandered through to his bedroom and looked in the wardrobe. He found what he was looking for on the top shelf, right at the back. He carefully lifted down the crimson velvet box and sat on the bed, turning it this way and that in his hands. With his birthday approaching, he had decided to sort out mathoms for his female relatives from the extensive collection of jewellery which had belonged to his mother. Those beautiful pieces had been hidden for too long and it was time they were seen once more, decorating lovely lasses as their makers intended. Some items he would hold onto until Sam's daughters and Pip's nieces were old enough to appreciate them, but it was time to let go. He had clung to them for long enough.

       He lifted the lid and gazed at the jewels which winked and sparkled in the afternoon sun. The first thing to catch his eye was a delicate silver and enamelled brooch of primula flowers, given to Prim by her parents when she was twelve. It had been one of his mother's favourites and would be ideal for young Primula, Pearl's eldest daughter. He closed his eyes and in his mind he saw his mother, smiling down at him as he sat on her lap before bed. As a baby he had liked to touch the brooch, and she always laughed and told him that these were her nameflower. He remembered her smell - violets and pastry and new-baked bread and something else which was uniquely Primula Baggins. Tears threatened for a moment and he blinked them away. It was an old grief now, like an old scar - and he had plenty of those, he thought wryly.

       A sapphire on a silver chain was next and he lifted it out, watching it swing gently. This for Pimpernel's daughter Sapphire. Rory had given it to his sister when he came of age, because it matched her eyes. She had called her brother a silly old tease but she wore it often, particularly when they went to Brandy Hall. She had been wearing it the night she died. He remembered it glinting in the morning sunlight as her body lay on the bank of the Brandywine.

       For Sapphire's younger sister, Emerald, there was a brooch - a cat in gold with emerald eyes. The lass adored cats and was always 'rescuing' any she spotted on her travels. Waifs and strays were drawn to her and she wanted to be a healer for animals as soon as she was old enough. With it would go a copy of one of Lord Elrond's books on animal healing, which Frodo had already copied and bound.

       He withdrew a fine pair of cufflinks which had belonged to his father. They were amber set in silver, and had been a present from Bilbo, who had a similar set. He held them up to the light, remembering Bilbo showing him an insect inside the amber. According to the Elves, amber was the hardened resin from certain trees, and insects often became trapped in it. He had always felt sorry for the hapless fly or ant, but it produced a moment frozen in time, which stirred his imagination. These he would keep and wear. Another set, with garnets, he would give to Sam. Two very similar pairs of engraved gold cufflinks he set aside for Merry and Pip.

       In Minas Anor last year he had given Rose a necklace which had belonged to his mother - silver flowers, each with an amethyst at its centre. He had almost forgotten that there was a matching bracelet, and here it was. Rose's gift was decided. The set had been given to Primula by her father Gorbadoc on her betrothal, and was said to have been made to an Elven design by the Dwarves of Erebor.

       A ring with three small pearls set in gold would be the perfect gift for Pip's eldest sister. For Pimpernel there was a pair of decorative silver hair clasps, inset with polished coral carved into small pimpernel flowers. Frodo grinned to himself. How apt! Now if he could just find something for Pervinca, the family tomboy......... Perverse Pervinca, she had been called. He chuckled. Pippin's youngest sister disliked anything fussy or frilly. Perhaps there was something plain which would please her......... His gaze settled on a simple silver bracelet which his mother had received as a wedding gift. It had only a delicate pattern of leaves engraved into its surface, and would look elegant with some of Vinca's formal gowns. As a teen and tween she had spent most of her time in trousers, working on the farm at Whitwell, learning archery and climbing trees. Persuading Vinca into a dress was a struggle.

       For Esme, who had loved his mother dearly, Frodo thought a silver necklace with a single pendant emerald would be just the thing, matching her green eyes. Primula had often said that Esme should have had it in the first place, feeling that emeralds would have looked much better on the young Took lass than they did on her, although Frodo thought his mother had looked beautiful whatever she wore.

       He knew what he wanted to give to Eglantine - a brooch in gold and rich enamels, an exquisite eglantine rose. It had been one of Drogo's earliest presents when he began courting his Brandybuck lass, and Primula treasured it. He knew that Tina would love it - she had loved his mother too, and had been staying at Brandy Hall when the accident happened.

       Two dainty bracelets would be ideal for Diamond and Estella - one with aquamarines and one with turquoise set in silver flowers. The other items would be kept safely for the younger lasses. There was one more special piece which he would give to Ellie on her betrothal or her coming-of-age; a breathtakingly beautiful necklace of gold with a large pear-shaped topaz, which he knew would look ravishing on the fairest hobbit-maid in the Shire.

       In the chest of drawers Frodo had stored a number of small boxes, which he now filled and wrapped, labelling each carefully in his elegant script. When all was completed he tucked them away until the day, well-pleased with himself. Only one item of his mother's would he keep as his own - a sapphire ring, which he slipped onto his little finger. He was absurdly happy and satisfied, with no regrets about parting with all the precious things.

       "The most precious things remain in the heart, Mama. Possessions are not really important, and I think by spreading these things around I'm keeping your memory alive, so that when I'm gone others will look at these jewels and remember you."

       He closed the wardrobe door and walked back to the kitchen, where Rufus was shouting for dinner.

25th Rethe (March) 1430

Elanor Gamgee danced into the kitchen, too excited to be still. It was the morning of her ninth birthday, and later there would be a party for her family and friends. Uncles Merry and Pippin had been staying at Bag End to help celebrate Merry-lad's third birthday and her own special day. She knew that it was also the day when that dreadful Ring went into the fires of Mount Doom and Uncle Fro and Sam-dad saved the whole world, but in the Shire this was rarely mentioned, least of all by the two Ring-bearers.

       "Lelelelelel!!!" Baby Pip banged on his high chair with his spoon, demanding his sister's attention.

       "Hello, Pipkin!" She kissed the baby on his sticky fat cheek and he chuckled.

       "Happy Bifday, Ellie!" Merry-lad ran into the kitchen and hugged her round the legs.

       "Thank you, Mer." She crouched and cuddled the little faunt, who wrapped his arms round her neck.

       Rose smiled fondly and held out her arms to her daughter. "Don't I get a birthday kiss too?"

       Elanor ran to her mother for a kiss and cuddle. "I don't know what to do first! Can I go and see Vi?"

       "She'll be coming to the party, lovie. Wait and see what presents might arrive before you go running off. Besides, there's breakfast to eat."

       "Did someone mention breakfast?" Pippin strode in, hair still tumbled from sleep. Merry followed, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

       "Where's Fro and Sam?"

       "Up at the stables. Nibs just called with the milk, breakfast is ready and the guests will be here later."

       "And how is the byrding today?" Merry whisked Ellie up above his head and swung her around.

       "Happy birthday, Ellie-girl." Pip rescued her from his cousin and danced round the kitchen with her.

       The child giggled. "Silly Uncle Pip." She glanced out of the window. "Here's Da and Uncle Fro."

       The two hobbits strolled in, calling out greetings in recognition and embracing Ellie. Frodo-lad and Rosie-lass had been out with them, and they joined in the congratulations.

                                                                          ************

       Pip handed over the parcel with a bow. "From the King and Queen," he said.

       "How does the King know about my birthday?"

       "He knows everything - and he'd remember your birthday, Ellie, for you were born on the first day of the New Year as it is celebrated in Gondor."

       The box was tied with pale green ribbon. Slowly, lingering over it to draw out the moment, Ellie opened the box. Peeling back layers of tissue paper, she saw a dress of the finest watered silk. It was a pale primrose yellow with a creamy white bodice and centre panel, upon which were the most delicate embroidered gold flowers. They seemed to almost float above the silk to wave in a faint breeze.

       "It's my nameflower! Did Queen Arwen do that? Did she, Uncle Fro?" She hopped from foot to foot, her eyes shining. Everyone leaned closer to admire the exquisite work.

       "Oh yes, that is her work. The finest embroiderer in Middle-earth."

       "Can I wear it for the party? Can I, Mum?"

       Rose smiled. "Yes, so long as you're careful not to spill anything on it."

       "Is this my little tomboy who wears Cousin Hobson's trousers and climbs trees?" asked Sam with a laugh.

       "Trousers are best for every day but a dress like this is for a special day."

       "Your birthday." Frodo twinkled.

       "Not just my birthday. It's the day you and Sam-dad saved the world. If you hadn't done that I wouldn't have been born."

       Frodo buried his face in her curls. "Oh my treasured Elanorelle!"

       Sam fetched a lot of other parcels from the chest in the bedroom. "Here's some more gifts for you, lass."

       A tiny package revealed some pretty yellow ribbon from Violet and her family. Elanor was very touched; she had not known them for very long and she knew they had little money.

       "They shouldn't have spent money on me. They're poor."

       "You were kind to little Vi and gave her some of your dolls. I don't think they'll ever forget that."

       "The ribbon will match your new dress perfectly." Frodo held it against her shining curls.

       "Open that one next!" said Frodo-lad imaptiently, pointing to an interesting looking box, from Rose-mum and Sam-dad.

       The box revealed a set of hobbit-child sized hair and foot brushes, which Sam had commissioned in Gondor from a craftsman in the Fifth Circle. They were made of dark polished wood and inlaid with pictures in a creamy white materiel Elanor had never seen before. Her initials were inlaid on the handles in silver.

       "What's this?" she asked, touching the white inlay.

       "Ivory - from one of the mumakil killed on the Pelennor Fields. Aragorn will not allow any new ivory to be imported because it would mean the animals had been killed. Anyone caught smuggling it is put in prison. Certain craftsmen have a licence to use some of the tusks from the dead oliphaunts and when that runs out there will be no more."

       "This is a grown-up present," Ellie whispered. She hugged and kissed her parents.

       Uncle Frodo's gift was a beautiful book from Gondor, showing many rare and unusual animals from far-off lands. There was a picture of an oliphaunt, tigers from the jungles of Rhun, lions from Harad, wolves, bears, giraffes and any number of weird and wonderful creatures. The children shrieked and whooped at every picture as Ellie turned the pages.

       Merry and Pip handed over their gifts - two nightgowns and some very stiff petticoats to go with the new dress. The other children had also been rummaging in their cupboards for pennies and visiting the market, and there were several different kinds of sweetmeats and some pretty hand-carved toys.

       A noise caused them all to look down. Rufus placed a frog on the floor at Ellie's feet and gazed up with an enquiring expression on his face. The frog croaked and tried to leap away, but the cat rested a paw on its back and it began emitting a strange bird-like scream.

       "See? Even Rufus wants to give you a present!" said Sam.

       "Leave the poor thing alone, you silly cat," young Fro admonished, rescuing the indignant frog and taking it into the garden.

       "This is going to be the best birthday ever!" Ellie declared. "Although I don't think the poor frog thinks so!"

                                                                          ************

       After an early lunch Ellie went to wash and change. Sam, Frodo, Merry and Pip waited eagerly to see her in the new dress and they were not disappointed. She looked lovelier than ever, her hair gleaming where Rose had brushed it, her foot fur almost sparkling as she skipped into the room. The dress was a perfect fit and looked sublime, rustling softly and standing out over the froth of petticoats.

       "You really look like a princess now," said Pip.

       "Ellie's a princess!" shouted the children.

       Soon the guests began arriving. It was a soft Spring day and the doors stood open. Daffodils and crocuses danced in the wind and the blackthorn trees in the garden were already in bloom. May hurried up the Hill with her youngest two, and with her came a nervous Ivy Sandyman, accompanied by Lily, Will and Violet. Ivy did not think it proper that she should be inside Bag End but Rose pooh-poohed such notions and hustled her into the parlour.

       Violet's eyes opened to their fullest at the sight of Elanor's dress. She did not dare to even stroke it, although she wanted to. Ivy examined it in awe and with professional interest.

       "I've never seen such work. Those flowers look alive!"

       "Queen Arwen did this especially for Ellie. The elanor grows in Lothlorien, where her grandparents lived. She spent much time there, so she knows exactly what the flowers look like," Rose explained, pouring tea and offering round some biscuits and little cakes.

       "Your Ellie is a beautiful little lass, Mistress Rose."

       "Thank you - your Vi is so sweet, and that dress of Ellie's suits her." Rose had sorted out some things for the Sandyman lass, who was smaller than Ellie.

       "She's like a dog with two tails with that dress - and she's brought her dolls too. She's been so much happier since we came here."

       "I'm glad to hear it. Ellie! Are you going to give out your gifts, lass?"

       Everyone clustered into the parlour and the birthday girl nervously presented her choices, which she had been considering for weeks. Her mother and sister were delighted with the handkerchiefs, embroidered with roses, from Widow Goodweaver's stall in Hobbiton market. Elanor had stitched an initial R one each, in deep pink for her mother and pale pink for her sister. Frodo-lad exclaimed over a wooden sword, a replacement for the one broken at Yule. Merry-lad squealed with glee at the hobby-horse and Pip-lad was overjoyed with a set of wooden ducks which rattled.

       For Aunt May there was a handkerchief with an M and for Teasel a length of blue ribbon. Hobson received a sword similar to Fro's with a shout. He hoped the Captains would show him how to use it properly. Little Violet could not believe her eyes when she was given a package - she had had few parcels to unwrap in her short life. Inside was another handkerchief, with her nameflower in one corner and a slightly wobbly letter V in purple silk in the opposite one, which Ellie had insisted on stitching herself.

       "You're the best friend I ever had!" she exclaimed, kissing Ellie and crying happy tears.

       "Don't cry. You'll make your new hankie all wet."

       Lily and Will also received something - a small carved horse for Will and a piece of pretty lace for Lily, which would look very grand on the bodice of a dress. They both hugged the byrding, bringing more laughter to the joyful gathering. Then they watched Ivy as Ellie handed her a parcel. Incredulously, Ivy unwrapped it, to find a thimble and a set of sewing needles.

       "Oh but........for me? Oh how lovely! Thank you so much!" Ivy held out her arms and Ellie gave her a huge hug.

       For Sam there was a small canvas square, with strings like an apron. He held it up and noticed that it had pockets all the way round.

       "It's for when you're working in the garden. There's pockets for twine, scissors, trimmers and all sorts of useful things, and you know Mum says you shouldn't carry scissors in your trouser pockets because it's dangerous, so I thought this would be better and............" She ran out of breath and fixed him with hopeful sea-green eyes, her cheeks pink and her toes curling with excitement.

       "I think it's wonderful! Now I can keep all my things in one place when I'm working. Thank you, my lovely!"

       Merry and Pip were very pleased with their handkerchiefs -Merry's was green and had a horse's head embroidered in the corner, while Pip's was black with a white tree. Widow Goodweaver was highly skilled and had done the work from drawings in one of Frodo's books.

       The last gift to be handed out was for Frodo. Ellie had been on her way to the bookseller's in Bywater with Sam when she spotted the jewellery and metalwork stall in Hobbiton, and there was the perfect present for her uncle - a silver stick pin of a leaping cat. Sam had just found a particularly fine rich blue silk cravat to give Frodo for his own birthday gift, and Ellie thought the pin would be ideal to go with it.

       "That is the nicest pin I've seen, Ellie-lass. I shall treasure this." He hugged her and kissed her brow.

       "I have one more present - for Rufus!" She unwrapped a paper bag and took out a knitted mouse with a long piece of wool for the tail. Rufus darted up and began to tap his new toy, then carried it into the kitchen and placed it on his cushion, where he sat guarding it, lest others decide to play with it.

       With all the gifts dispersed, everyone went to the dining-room and sat down, and Frodo and Sam served roast chicken with lots of vegetables and fried mushrooms, followed by a jam roly-poly and cream. Then they sat around filling up the corners while Frodo pointed out the portraits to Ivy Sandyman, who thought the King very handsome and the Queen the most beautiful creature in Middle-earth.

       Later Rose, Ivy and May sat in the kitchen while the children played in the garden in the fading light, and the men smoked their pipes.

       "Fro?" said Pip as they watched the children (Ellie having changed into an old dress) run and tumble in the garden. "Do you realise, you've not mentioned the other reason to celebrate today."

       Frodo shrugged. "Ellie's birthday is the most important."

       Merry turned to look at his cousin. "You heard her - if you and Sam hadn't got rid of that blasted Ring, she would never have been born."

       "In Gondor they have huge celebrations to mark this day, and we hobbits don't even mention it. I know that is a very hobbity thing to do, but really!" Pip muttered.

       "I know - I'm glad it went into the fire, of course I am. But this is why we did it - so that children could play and grow, free of the Shadow. A New Age, a new order, a new generation, free from fear and dominance."

       Merry pretended to swat his cousin round the head. "Stubborn Baggins! None of this would be possible if it were not for you and Sam. And don't shrug in that irritating way. It's true."

       "Merry?"

       "Yes, my dear Frodo."

       "Shut up and eat your birthday cake."

A little birthday mathom for Shirebound. Happy Birthday! Features your favourite OC

Birds. Silly twittering things. They think they're out of reach up there, cheeping and peeping. My Master hates to see them dead, limp bundles of feathers on the stoop, so I leave them alone. I could catch them if I wanted to, but they are too silly to bother with.

Bats. Everyone says they are too fast for me but they are not! Whizzing about up there, darting to and fro with no apparent purpose. Flying mice, that's all they are. I could catch them if I cared to try, but I have decided not to bother.

Frogs. Cold and damp, and they scream if I try to touch them. They do not run but sometimes they will jump. The screaming attracts the family and they tell me I must not chase the frogs. Where is the fun in that? I could catch them but it hardly seems worth the trouble.

Toads. Worse than frogs, for they taste horrible and if I tried to hold one in my mouth I would be very ill. The do not jump but walk around the garden. They catch insects and Sam says they are the gardener's friend, so I leave them alone. I daresay I could catch one but I have no wish to be ill.

Hedgehogs. Prickly things - they just curl into a ball when I approach, or hiss at me and toddle away, knowing there is no way through those spines. I expect I could find a way, but I will not waste my time.

Butterflies and moths. They flutter about but they are chewy and their wings fall to powder. Not a satisfying meal for a hobbity cat and my Master shudders if he sees me with one half in and half out of my mouth. 'Poor thing,' he says, lifting the limp form. He is too compassionate for his own good, that one, but I hate to see him sad, so I leave them alone.

Snakes. They can be dangerous and I must watch the small hobbits in case they step carelessly. There are 'harmless' ones too - slow worms and grass snakes - but the Master forbids it. I could catch one, for they are not too fast, but I do as I am told.

Squirrels. Now they are very cheeky and impudent, but the Master and the children love to watch their antics. Sam grumbles when they dig up the spring bulbs but Master Frodo puts out food for them. They are very fast, but I could catch one if I cared to try.

Rabbits. They bounce around the paddock but they are not allowed in the vegetable garden. I chase them out if I see them. I'm sure I could catch a big fat juicy one and take it home for the pot, but I know what Master Frodo would say to that. So I don't.

Rats and mice. Ah! Now these I am allowed to catch - at least, I am allowed to catch mice in the house and around the barns and granaries, but I must not take the little fieldmice, or the voles. Rats I can catch wherever I find them. I could go and find some now, I daresay, but it is warm and comfortable here on my cushion. The kitchen is warm and I have been fed. I shall doze for a while, and catch mice in my dreams instead.

As requested by several readers - what happened when Frodo gave out those beautiful birthday gifts.

Halimath 1430

A week before his birthday Frodo travelled to Buckland, to visit Brandy Hall and Crickhollow. He was to spend a few days there before returning in time to host the Tooks at a party in the Party Field. He had suggested doing things this way because Diamond and Estella had new babies and would not welcome a journey when they were still busy learning how to be mothers. Nor would he expect Merry and Pip to leave wives and babes for a birthday celebration, although he knew they would have come to Hobbiton if he asked them to.

       "Look at it this way - I now have two separate celebrations to look forward to," was how he reassured his cousins.

       He rode to Buckland on the lively and eye-catching Limlight, and afterwards swore that the journey took two days because so many hobbits stopped to admire the pony and ask about his lineage. He stayed the night at The Floating Log and enjoyed fine meals and a comfortable bed while Limlight was equally well-supplied in the stables. In the common-room he answered questions about the King and the other visitors who had made such an impression during their visit in the Spring, and all asked to be remembered to 'Our Lord King.'

       Limlight was eager to be off the next morning, standing obedient and still while Frodo adjusted the stirrups and fitted the bridle, then taking off at a canter once his master was in the saddle. It was a lovely morning, warm and sunny, the trees a dark green now but keeping their leaves due to the generous quantities of rain that summer. It had been as good a year as 1420 and orchards were laden with fruit, the wayside brambles groaned under the weight of huge purple berries, and the barns in each district were full to capacity. There would be bread for everyone and good ale at every inn.

       Frodo arrived at the Brandywine Bridge at mid-afternoon, having given Limlight his head on the empty stretches of road. He could see that the new combined Shirriff, Bounder and Ranger Post was complete - a large building to the side of the road, with a kitchen and sleeping quarters on the ground floor for hobbits and on the upper floor for Men. The hobbits no longer regarded Men with suspicion and relations between those who guarded both sides of the border were becoming ever closer. Hobbits delighted to cook for their friends and the Men never missed an opportunity for a meal and a pipe. The building was ideally placed to give a good view of the road on both sides of the Bridge, and kept a fine cellar full of wine and ale. It provided a welcome respite for weary Rangers, with a stable and some grazing land for horses. The King had met most of the cost but the Shire also contributed, yet another example of everyone working together in the Reunited Kingdom.

       The Bounder, Hob Hayward's brother, saluted. "Afternoon, Mister Baggins. Going to the Hall?"

       "Hello, Olly. Yes, but I'll call at Crickhollow first. How are you? Wife and little ones well?"

       "Mustn't grumble, sir. The littlest had lung fever a while ago, but she's fine now." He looked at the pony. "Never seen a pony like that, sir. Came from Rohan, Master Merry said."

       "That's right. His grandsire was the most magnificent horse in Middle-earth. He's a bit of a handful but very affectionate." Frodo patted the glossy neck. "I'm off to see the latest additions to the Took and Brandybuck families."

       "Saw them out last week. Growing a treat, they are."

       Frodo rode towards the house and dismounted. Estella was at the door, baby Theoden in her arms. Her dark hair lifted in the breeze and her cheeks were dusted with flour. She looked radiant.

       "Frodo! Oh how lovely to see you at last. Merry's so excited he's been to the Bridge twice since lunch." She kissed her visitor.

       "Stella, you look wonderful. Marriage and motherhood must agree with you. Hope they suit Diamond just as much." He looked down at the baby and grinned. "I see he got the Brandybuck nose!"

       Stella giggled. "I know. I'm hoping he'll grow into it!"

       "It's smaller than Merry's when he was born. When I first saw him he was all nose!" He tethered Limlight to the fence as they would be walking over to the Hall and would stable him there.

       "I can tease him with that."

       "Frodo!" Merry and Pip rushed out and all but hauled their cousin to the house, where Diamond had just fnished dressing Fari.

       "Frodo dear! Oh how well you look!" She hugged him and then settled him in a chair where he could hold both babies.

       Frodo looked down at the future of Buckland and the Shire and marvelled at the fragility and strength combined in these two tiny creatures. Fari yawned and opened his eyes to peer up at the visitor. One small starfish hand opened and closed reflexively.

       "Hello, little one. I'm your Uncle Fro." He smiled and turned to Theo, who was watching him with that disconcerting gaze for which Merry was famous. "You, my little one, have inherited your father's impressive nose!" Theo blinked solemnly.

       "Insulting me again?" Merry said, sitting on the arm of the chair and stroking his son's curls.

       "Of course. You mustn't begrudge an elderly hobbit his only amusement."

       "Who is this elderly hobbit anyway?" Pip demanded. "I don't know any elderly hobbits."

       "Come along, you three," said Estella, reappearing in a fresh dress, her bonnet in one hand. "Like a bunch of old gammers when it comes to gossipping."

                                                                           *************

       The walk to Brandy Hall took little time. Frodo led Limlight round to the stables and removed his tack, then rubbed him down while the stable-lad filled a hay net. When the pony was settled, Frodo went into the house to be greeted by Esme and Saradoc. Esme had not seen him since the King's visit, and she fussed over him, delighted to have him back at the Hall.

       After tea, he went to his room to change for the party. He selected the suit sent to him from Gondor for his birthday. Pip stood in the doorway watching Frodo don the jacket and check his appearance in the mirror. The suit was made from a rich midnight blue velvet, with a silver spangling of embroidery on the lapels, and Frodo had matched it with a very pale yellow waistcoat.

       "Becoming quite the dandy Baggins, aren't you?"

       "Becoming? I'll have you know I was a stylish dresser before you could brush up your toes without falling over, young 'squeak." He brushed his foot fur and fastened his cufflinks.

       "Hear that, Mer? When we're the most exalted in the Shire we'll still have to put up with our childhood nicknames."

       "But we shall make a virtue of it. 'Meet the Thain and Master - otherwise known as Squeak and Squirt!'" said Merry with an extravagant bow and a flourish.

       "Old Gerontius was a very flashy dresser - at least I've been told so - and Bilbo liked his fancy waistcoats, so I suppose it's in the family." Pip prowled round Frodo, studying the new outfit from all angles.

       Merry chuckled. "I think I get my taste in waistcoats from Grand-da Rory." He rubbed his nose ruefully. "I inherited this from him as well."

       Frodo laughed. "Less impressive than Uncle Rory's. Mama used to tease him about it. He always said he took her share as well as his own!"

       "Your mother inherited the Took nose, which is more than I did," said Pip. "I got the Banks nose."

        Frodo hugged Pip. "It's a very nice nose and suits you, Pip. And you've grown into yours, Merry-mine." He picked up the basket which contained the packages and small boxes and they made their way to the Master's apartments.

       No-one could ever say that Master 'Scattergold' Brandybuck did not keep a fine table. Brandy Hall's cooks were among the best anywhere, and they rose to the great occasion with aplomb. Frodo enjoyed a birthday meal with all his favourite dishes - mushrooms in three or four different styles, chicken with a pork, sage and onion stuffing, potatoes, beans and carrots, followed by plum pie with thick cream.

       Then they filled up the corners with fresh peaches and some small sweet strawberries, until even Pip declared that every corner was full to capacity.

       "Aha! Now I can give out my presents." Frodo fetched the basket and selected the first parcel. "Sara, this is yours."

       Saradoc enjoyed presents and he squeezed the soft package curiously before undoing the ribbon. Inside was a beautifully tooled leather pipeweed pouch in deep blue, with his initials and the Brandybuck crest in silver. He opened it and sniffed appreciatively. "Old Toby! Thank you, my lad, this is wonderful. Which little bird told you my old pouch was falling apart?"

       Frodo went into peals of laughter. "Oh Sara, that thing has been falling apart for years!"

       Everyone agreed and Saradoc chuckled. "I suppose I have been hanging on to it a bit too long."

       "Like that old jacket of yours which I keep giving to the gardener for the scarecrow, and you keep taking back again," said Esme.

       Saradoc huffed. "Nothing wrong with that jacket. Years of wear in it yet!"

       A similar package was handed to Merimac, who exclaimed delightedly when he undid it, revealing a dark green pouch also full of the best leaf. "From your own plantation, my dear Frodo?"

       Frodo nodded. "Minto sent several barrels from last year's crop. He says this year's will be even better, and the same goes for the New Winyards. The grapes are fat and juicy and they say the yield will be as much and as good as the Old Winyards."

       "Then I shall place an order for several dozen bottles," said Saradoc. "The King was keen to try it."

       "Yes. I've sent him a case of the 1428, which was very good but not as plentiful. He says even the ambassadors from Rhun and Harad have heard of it, so if this year's yield is as generous as we hope, he should be able to give some as diplomatic gifts in a year or two."

       "So what are all these little boxes?" Esme enquired, peering into the basket.

       "Pieces of Mama's jewellery. I decided it was time they were worn again. No good hiding them in the back of my wardrobe when there are so many lovely lasses to wear them." He gave Esme her gift.

       "Oh! Frodo, it's the emerald. I always thought it the loveliest thing and she used to say it didn't suit her but it did. Everything suited Prim." She lifted it from its nest and held it so the large square-cut emerald swung on the fine chain, fracturing the candlelight and sending it spinning across the walls. "I will treasure it, my dearest lad - if you're sure............"

       Frodo fastened the necklace and kissed her. "I'm sure. And Mama was right. It does enhance the green in your eyes." He found himself held tightly. "She would have wanted you to have it. I'm only sorry I've waited all these years. I should have given it to you a long time ago."

      "I shall wear it and think of her - I often do, you know."

       For Merimac's wife, Eudora, there was a very pretty twisted silver necklace with an opal, her favourite stone. She thanked Frodo profusely, her eyes shimmering. She had been in awe of Primula when she arrived at the Hall on her marriage to Merimac, and had worshipped the Master's youngest sister whenever they visited. She remembered the nightmare day when the accident happened, and her last sight of Prim, cold and stiff, stretched out on the bed beside Drogo had stayed with her for nearly fifty years.

       "My dearest Frodo, this means more than I can tell you. I remember your Mama wearing this."

       "Papa gave it to her when he knew she was going to recover from the miscarriage she had when I was eight. I remember him showing it to me. He was as excited as a child at Yule."

       He handed another two boxes to Estella and Diamond. Both lasses were intrigued and began undoing ribbons while he watched approvingly. "If you want to swap I won't be offended," he said as Diamond lifted out the silver bracelet with the small turquoise stones.

       "It's so lovely! Oh Frodo you are such a darling!" She embraced him. "I never knew your mother but she must have been wonderful or you wouldn't be the hobbit you are."

       "I wish I'd known her," said Estella, examining the aquamarines in her bracelet. "I love her portrait. But she was beautiful without any jewellery."

       "And so are you, my dear Stella." Frodo fastened the bracelet and smiled at her.

       Merry and Pip were more than pleased with their cufflinks. They were both engraved gold - Merry's had a sunburst, appropriate for a knight of Rohan, and Pip's had a star.

       "You sure you don't mind, Fro? Us all wearing your parents' things?"

       "Mind? Why should I mind? More than time they were out in the light again, worn by those I love."

       "We're honoured. I'll treasure these and I know Merry will too."

       "And I shall treasure the fact that they are now yours."

                                                                          ************

       A week later, in the Party Field, Frodo watched another group of lasses proudly wearing his mother's things - Eglantine displaying her brooch, Pearl showing Minto the ring, Pimpernel with the hair clasps, Pervinca admiring the silver bracelet, Rose wearing the matching necklace and bracelet now. She was dressed in the lilac silk from Gondor, still hiding the fact that she was expecting again. Her honey curls blew about her neck and her eyes sparkled as she smiled at him. Under the Party Tree young Emerald was fussing Rufus and showing off her cat brooch, and Sapphire and Primula were in a conspiratorial huddle.

       In allowing himself to finally let go, he felt closer to his parents than before. These cherished pieces would live on, and with them the memory of those who had been so cruelly torn from life. Taking Rose's hand, he whisked her into the dancing while the guests looked on in delight.

Halimath 1430 SR

Limlight cantered swiftly along the road from the Bridge, the air fresh in his nostrils. He had enjoyed his stay in the stables at Brandy Hall but it was good to be going home again. He was happy because his master was happy.

       Frodo was singing softly to himself as the road flashed by beneath him. He had left the Hall immediately after first breakfast, in order to arrive back in Hobbiton before nightfall. His saddlebags were loaded with food and he would pause for lunch at the Floating Log. He had enjoyed his stay and the party in his honour, as well as the quiet time with his close family. The mathoms had been received with delight and his parents' jewellery was now taking pride of place on the dressing tables of Brandy Hall and Crickhollow, a fact which left Frodo feeling very satisfied indeed.

       Lunch at the inn was as good as ever, and he sat for a while, chatting with the innkeeper, before finally gathering his bags and stepping out into the sunshine.

       "Drat it! Now that little 'un's stuck up the tree!" cried Rowley Longtoes in exasperation.

       Frodo looked up through the branches and was confronted with a woeful little black furry face and a very pink tongue as the mouth opened to give voice to a string of complaints. It was a kitten, no more than seven or eight weeks old.

       "Poor little mite," said Frodo softly. "Is he yours?"

       "Bless you, no. He's been hanging around for a few days. Don't know where he came from, although I've asked around and no-one's owned up to knowin' ought."

       Frodo stretched his arm up and the kitten advanced an inch then backed up again. Frodo called and made encouraging noises and the creature slithered down again and kept going until he reached Frodo's sleeve, where he jammed all his claws in and clung on for dear life as Frodo slowly drew him down and cradled him inside his jacket. He could feel the tiny heart racing.

       "Hush, little one, you're safe now," he crooned, and gradually the shaking turned to purring.

       "They don't go far on their own at that age - reckon someone had been told to get rid of him and thought leaving him here was better than drowning the poor little beggar," said the innkeeper, puffing strongly on his pipe.

       "I wonder if there's any more around?" Frodo examined the kitten to see if it was male or female. Has anyone checked rain barrels and ponds? I suppose he could have escaped from a sack."

       Rowley nodded. "Don't like the thought of 'em drowning. It's a cruel death. Seems it's just this 'un."

       Frodo looked very thoughtful. "Rose may kill me but I'll take him, if that's alright with you? Even if we don't keep him at Bag End I daresay I can find him a good home."

       "That's right kind of you, Mister Baggins. Shall I hold him while you sort out the pony?"

       Frodo fastened his saddlebags and settled himself before taking the kitten and tucking him inside his jacket. "Well, little one, let's see what Rose and Rufus have to say to this!"

                                                                          ************

       Rose gave Frodo a quite unreadable look as he related the story. The children milled around, trying to stroke the tiny creature.

       "Oh Mum, he's so little!"

       "Can we keep him?"

       "Can I hold him?"

       Rose held out her hands. "Give him here," she said, and rested the kitten on her bosom. It gazed at her with blue-green eyes and blinked, then began to purr and knead his front paws in her shawl.

       "Looks like he's made himself at home," said Sam with a chuckle. "Though I'm not sure Rufus will approve."

       Hearing his name, the Bag End cat emerged from the parlour where he had been enjoying a nap in Gandalf's old chair. Frodo made a great fuss of him to forestall any jealousy, then Rose lowered the kitten to the floor.

       Everyone held their breath as they waited for Rufus to puff himself up and growl. They were astonished when the big cat merely sat down and looked at the kitten with interest. They were even more startled when the kitten fluffed himself into a furious ball and spat loudly. It was not the long hiss of an adult cat but a short sharp fizzing noise like one of Gandalf's small fireworks.

       Pzzzzit!

       The children giggled. The sight of the kitten spitting at Rufus looked very funny. Rufus curled his tail round his toes and remained perfectly still as the kitten made repeated rushes round him. He resembled a very large star being circled by a small and erratic planet in a very eccentric orbit.

       When the kitten appeared to have exhausted himself, Rufus leaned down, sniffed the newcomer and then began to wash the small head quite vigorously. There was a startled squeak, a tiny paw waved in protest for a moment, and then the kitten began to purr very loudly. After a while he burrowed underneath Rufus, which reduced Rose to helpless giggles.

       "I doubt you'll find what you're looking for under there, my lad!" she said.

       Ellie clapped a hand to her mouth as she realised what her mother was saying. "There's no milk there - Rufus is a lad!"

       The kitten emerged, looking rather puzzled, and butted Rufus to demand more washing. The cat obliged, pinning the little thing down with one paw.

       "Well, it looks as though you've been accepted by your Uncle Rufus," said Frodo. "What shall we call him?"

       "Sooty!" cried Rosie-lass.

       "Your kitten was all covered in soot when he went up the chimney, so Sooty's a good name for this one," added Frodo-lad.

       "Yes, he does look much like Mischief did when he came down in that big pile of soot. Good idea!"

       Rose chopped some cold chicken very finely and put it on a saucer, then put it beside Rufus' plate, and the two ate side by side. When they had licked the dishes clean, swapping plates at the end, just to check no stray morsels had been missed, and Sooty had looked underneath his saucer to make doubly sure nothing was left, they sat together on the hearthrug. Rufus began to wash himself, starting with his face and ears. Sooty watched him carefully and then, to everyone's amusement, he copied his uncle.

       When Rufus washed his back paws, stretching out one leg and licking between his toes, so did little Sooty, glancing up now and then to check he was doing it properly. He rolled over a couple of times, but righted himself and determinedly continued.

       Frodo looked in the second pantry and filled a very old and dented baking tin with sandy soil, which Sooty inspected and scrabbled in. Sam found a small box and Ellie contributed one of her dolls' blankets and they settled him inside, but he was insistent upon nestling beside Rufus. After a snooze Sooty was ready to play, pouncing on a cotton reel and chasing bits of string. When a reel rolled near Rufus he batted it back, causing lots of ooohs and aaahs from the family and delighted squeals from Pip-lad.

       When they were ready for bed, Sam locked up, Rose gave the cats another meal and Frodo took the sand tray and a bowl of water to his bedroom. Rufus followed him down the passage with his tiny acolyte trotting behind him. Having tucked Sooty into his box, Frodo cleaned his teeth, undressed, wriggled into his nightshirt and climbed into bed. Rufus curled up beside him and they settled down to sleep.

       Sooty had other ideas. Frodo heard piteous squeaking, followed by a 'flump' noise. A few seconds and another squeak, then the sound of claws lodging in the counterpane and a small weight dragging itself up. Frodo stifled his laughter as a little head appeared and the kitten waddled over, nudged Frodo's hand and then snuggled himself in the curve of Rufus' body, cushioned on the cat's ample belly.

       "You seem determined to follow your Uncle Rufus everywhere, but you couldn't have a better teacher, my little lad." He rested a hand on the two warm bodies and drifted off, lulled to sleep by the sound of drowsy purring.

For Tigger, Demeter d and all the other kind reviewers who asked for this.

6th Astron 1430 SR

So the hobbits now know what was obvious to me the evening of his arrival - the Lord Thorongil is King Elessar. His light is dazzling and very similar to my Master's, for he is descended from Elves and Earendil and one of the Wise. I had never met any of the race of Men until these arrived, but they are fine, noble, gentle and gracious. He is sitting under the Party Tree, cradling one of the Cotton babies in each arm. I think the babies are called Lily and Lavender, but all very small ones look alike to me.

       His cousins are similar, although their Lights of Being are not so powerful. They are noble and nothing like those others who came to the Shire in the dark times. Prince Faramir is interesting, for he is of the race of Numenor, a scholar, a diplomat and a poet as well as a soldier. I sense he has known great sadness, for he will speak of his mother and brother with a wistful tone. He does not mention his father, who was a dour and strict sort, bitter and twisted by grief and the evils of the Dark One. I know that the Lord Boromir was killed during the Quest - we have a memorial garden for him at Bag End - and the mother died when Prince Faramir was only a child. I can see that he admires the King and looks up to him. I think he would die to protect the Lord Elessar.

       I like the two Captains very much. Beregond is devoted to Prince Faramir and is a concerned father to his son, Bergil. The young man is sitting at the table, surrounded by admiring hobbit maids. They seem very taken by the fact that he has Merry-lad on his lap. I wonder why?

       My father told me that Sam changed a great deal during the Quest. He went away a shy, simple gardener and returned a warrior, a Ring-bearer, a hero and a Lord of the Free Peoples. He stands now, chatting easily to three Elven princes, the Thain and the Master of Buckland, and all listen when he speaks. He is accounted wise and the King seeks his advice frequently. The poem Bilbo Baggins wrote for the Dunedan could also be said of Sam -

       'All that is gold does not glister....................

       ..........From the ashes a fire shall be woken,      

       A light from the shadows shall spring..........'

The Master's cousins changed too, particularly the young one. He was a silly tween when he left, and returned a wise and thoughtful hobbit who will be a great Thain one day - although if my father could see him now, dancing around on a table with a tankard upside down on his head, he might be inclined to revise his opinion! They are utterly irrepressible and will do anything to make Master Frodo laugh, although they no longer have to work hard to do that. Merry is as happy as his name, except when he is trying to win at something, and my Master says he will fight at the drop of a hat, whatever that means. Pippin is cheerful and inquisitive and always anxious to help in the kitchen, which leads to scoldings from Mistress Rose, who smacks him across the knuckles with a wooden spoon but chuckles as she does so.

       The Wizard is clearly one of the Wise, although why he spends so much time talking to those silly feathered things I don't know! His light is very blue, which is restful and reassuring, and he is able to talk to all creatures in their own tongue. What can be said in nonsensical tweeting and warbling is a mystery but those birds insist on settling near him. One cheeky robin is sitting on his hat! What would that Gwaihir say?

       The mallorn tree has a light of its own, and when I sit near it I can feel other similar trees. Some are growing in a forest where few Elves now walk. They shed their leaves, they wave in the wind, they bloom, but no-one sees them do so. It is very sad. Other trees though, they grown in a beautiful land where Elven singing fills the air and white towers pierce the morning mist. A woman walks beneath them sometimes, and she is tall and fair, glowing and clad in white. I hear the name Artanis carried on a sigh of wind. I wish I could see more but I am sure that our tree speaks with these others.

       The Elves are kind and gentle, serene and graceful at all times. The Wood Elf can climb trees nearly as well as a cat, although the Dwarf grumbles about him breaking his fool head one day. I like Gimli - he's always very free with the titbits and doesn't mince his words. He 'calls a spade a ruddy shovel' as Sam says, but I'm sure that is one reason why the King enjoys Gimli's company. He says it can be tiresome when everyone agrees with everything he says, just because he's King. Gimli just says, 'You're talking nonsense again, laddie!' which must be very refreshing. If a cat dislikes someone he does not hide the fact, so why do some Men - and hobbits - bother? That unpleasant miller was always being 'two-faced' - although I only ever saw the one, and an ugly one it was too! His family must be very relieved to be rid of him.

       It will soon be time for the small hobbits to sleep - they have been running and playing all day. Mistress Rose is glancing round, making sure her brood and her menfolk are safe. She smiles at Master Frodo, blows a kiss to Sam and nods at the little ones. The King sits at one of the tables and holds out his hand - I spring upon the bench and he offers me and my mother some of the cold chicken. Not many cats can say they have eaten from the hand of the King. Merry asks him about his two kittens and he describes their antics with a smile. They will be growing fast, no doubt.

       My Master's Light of Being blazes like a star as he looks with joy at Sam and his friends. The King's Light flares in response, and I suddenly see that they are two of a kind. How strange, and yet how fitting, that the great King Elessar and a hobbit of the Shire should be brothers of the spirit. The Valar must have planned it, for the Dark One would never have suspected such a thing. It is good to have such Men and Elves in the Shire and to see everyone united in love.

Summer 1412 SR

      "You want to do what? You barmy Took, you'll get your fool self killed one of these days!"

     "Pish! He's harmless enough. You forget I'm a farmer's son. Beef cattle are different - the bulls are silly old things usually. It's dairy bulls you have to watch out for." Pip climbed over the fence and advanced on the massive animal. "Anyway, he likes me."

       Merry sighed and began to clamber over the fence too. He was not about to allow Pip in there alone.

       "What on Middle-earth do you two think you're doing?" said a familiar, refined voice. Merry groaned. He knew that voice - elegant, precise, just like the speaker.

       "Pip's decided he wants to die an early and messy death and is going to say hello to the bull." He turned and looked at Cousin Frodo. "I was not about to let him go by himself."

       "Don't be so melodramatic, Merry," Pip called.

       Frodo looked at the bull, his face inscrutable. "Hmmmmm. At least it isn't a dairy bull. Are you absolutely sure he's friendly, Pip?"

       "Of course he is!" Pip reached the bull and patted it in a chummy fashion.

       "I can't watch," Merry said, turning away. "He's going to be squished, I know he is."

       "Not necessarily," Frodo murmured. "He wouldn't be the first member of the family to do this sort of thing."

       "I was just thinking the same thing," said Reggie Took, joining them at the fence. He gave Frodo a very meaningful stare. Merry gaped.

       "Don't tell me you ever did this, Fro?"

       Frodo gave one of his graceful little shrugs. "I did a lot of silly things when I was younger."

       Reggie chuckled. "I'll say! Didn't you replace the sand in Old Rory's sand shaker with sugar and turn all his letters to a sticky mess?"

       "You didn't?! What a great trick! I must try that!" Pip had been drawn away from his friendly chat with the bull by tales of the Rascal of Buckland.

       "No, you must not try that. I seem to remember paying rather heavily for that one," said Frodo, wincing as he remembered his uncle administering stern punishment. "And I had to write out five thousand lines of Shire history. I had writer's cramp for a month!"

       "I'd heard about that one. Mum told me one night when I was ill, just after you moved to Hobbiton.." Merry grinned. "You were even more of a hero after that."

       Reggie spluttered into sudden laughter. "Not to mention the pig!"

       "In Aunt Amaranth's bonnet and shawl," added Merry, cackling hysterically.

       "In the Master's bedroom...............just as they were preparing for bed," admitted Frodo, giggling.

       Pippin was stunned into awed silence for a few seconds before asking, "What happened?"

       "There was a shriek from Aunt Gilda and a roar from Uncle Rory, the pig escaped into the corridor and frightened Aunt Asphodel, who was in the privvy at the time. She had a fit of the vapours and screamed the place down, and I thought it best to hide for a while."

       "Three days, I heard. Mum was frantic. They searched all over Buckland, up hill and down dale. Da even went to see Farmer Maggot, but he hadn't seen you either."

       "Where were you?" asked Pip.

       "In the Old Forest," replied Frodo with another shrug.

       "You went in there?!" Pip breathed.

       "Not far in - but it seemed safer than facing Uncle Rory."

       "Didn't you play terrible tricks on Uncle Dino and Uncle Dodi?" Merry made himself comfortable atop the five-barred gate and the others joined him. The bull munched peacefully, sparing them no more than a glance..

       "As you know, they live in apartments at the Hall with doors opening onto the same corridor. The doors face each other and each door has a little knocker. I........well, I tied some very fine black thread between the knockers and then tapped on Dino's door and hid at the end of the passage. He emerged, looked puzzled to see no-one there, went back in and shut the door, which of course slammed the knocker on Dodi's door. He came out, glanced up and down, muttered something and went inside, slamming the door. They went on like that for over half an hour before Aunt Amaranth sailed past and her hat got caught in the thread and caused both knockers to crash down together. Both hobbits flew out and each accused the other of being a nuisance. I have to say I was impressed at the effect I'd achieved with a bit of thread." Frodo's face lit up at the memory.

       "I heard they didn't talk to each other for a week." Merry glanced at his cousin, his grey eyes wide with admiration.

       "Esme found the thread but she didn't let on - although she gave me a lecture. She knew being angry was no good - the worst thing she could ever say was that she was disappointed in me. That always made me feel bad."

       "My Mum says that too!" Pippin cried indignantly. "Mums always know how to make us feel bad."

       Merry chuckled. "Aunt Tina had lots of experience with your sisters before you arrived, Pip. You don't stand a chance."

       "I hid on the roof the other week and used a watering can on Aunt Myrtle. She hurried back inside to fetch her umbrella and told Hetty that it was raining. Hetty came dashing out to rescue her washing and found no rain anywhere. You should see the looks she's been giving Aunt Myrtle ever since!"

       Reggie laughed. "Are young hobbits still doing that? Well, I suppose it works but you have to be sparing. That's why Frodo was so good at this - he never used the same trick twice. He was always inventing new ones. I don't know where the ideas came from."

       "I think that may be the Baggins side coming out. Bilbo told me he was a scamp when he was a teen, and Uncle Dudo said he and Papa did all sorts of things when they were young."

       Pip nudged Merry so hard he almost lost his grip on the gate. "There you are - for once the Tooks aren't being blamed!"

       "No, but Uncle Pal and Da were just as bad as us when they were young. They hid Gandalf's staff once, and were almost turned into something unnatural before he saw the funny side."

       Frodo gave a virtuous little smile. "That proves it! The Bagginses have more sense than to go around annoying wizards!" He ducked Pippin's swat, grabbed the tween's braces and hauled him off the gate. "The Baggins common sense also tells me that it's almost time for elevenses. Last one to the kitchen's a rotten apple!"

       The others followed, muttering as Frodo outdistanced them with ease. Reggie wondered, not for the first time, how Frodo managed to remain so 'tweeny' and youthful. Perhaps that was a Baggins trait too?      

The Shire, Halimath, 1430

The children held their breath and tried not to giggle. Sooty, the new kitten at Bag End, was racing up and down the passageway with a cotton reel. He had lots of energy and could play for hours, and they found his antics most amusing. He was being especially funny on this particular morning because Rose had polished the floor and he was finding it difficult to keep his feet. Twice he had skidded into the wall, much to his surprise and indignation, not to mention the amusement of the children.

       Rufus eschewed such undignified behaviour but he continued to keep an eye on his little friend, feigning disdain by washing a paw and half-closing his eyes. Sooty tried to interest him in the cotton-reel and Rufus finally obliged by rolling it back to him. Overjoyed, Sooty pounced on his uncle and pulled his tail until Rufus felt sufficiently goaded to chase him for a while, delighting the family.

When Sooty had finally exhausted himself, the girls carried him off to the dolls' cradle, tucked him in and sang him to sleep. Rufus was pleased that they no longer tried to do the same to him. Sooty actually enjoyed the fuss and attention, which made the little ones happy. Such things were far too silly for a grow-up cat with status to maintain.

                                                                         ************

       Quickly glancing round to check that no-one was looking, Rufus wiggled and pounced on the cotton reel, kicked at it and rushed after it, going into a long skid halfway down the passage. He smacked into the wall and lay on his back with his paws in the air for half a minute before rolling over and staggering to his feet. He shook himself, outraged. When he was sure he had not been observed, the big red tabby stalked away, tail high in the air. At least he had not been seen in such an undignified predicament.

       Behind the study door, Frodo was bent double in hysterical giggles.

Yule, 1430

It was Mettarë morning in the Southern lands. In the Citadel in Minas Anor the building echoed to the delighted shrieks of children as they opened presents. The Master of Protocol smiled as he went about his duties, arranging the Great Hall for the audience. It was good to hear children's voices in the Citadel; they signified that all was well in Gondor. The King's children and those of Prince Faramir spent much time together and all seemed to get along splendidly. He and the Lord Chamberlain stood back and surveyed the scene - room for guests to circulate, long tables for the food, where people would serve themselves, a corner for the children to play if the wished, and a Yule log ready to burn. The log came from the Shire, a gift from the Pheriannath whom the King loved. Master Samwise himself had prepared this and several others for the King's and Steward's private apartments. The logs were bound with many sweet-smelling herbs which released their vapours as they burned. This was a tradition in the Northern Lands and the King liked to combine all the customs of the Two Kingdoms.

       Aragorn and Faramir looked at their gifts from Rose. They looked very similar - both were wrapped in deep red paper and a small card on each said, With much love and good wishes for a Merry Yule, from Rose.

       "It's a book," Faramir said, uncovering a large book covered in deep blue suede with a beautiful silver tree on the cover.

       "It's a cookery book!" Aragorn cried triumphantly. His own was in black suede with a silver tree and seven stars topped with a crown. "A Shire cookbook, just as we begged for when we stayed at Bag End!" He began flipping pages and exclaiming delightedly. "Beef and kidney pudding! Raspberry trifle! Chocolate fudge cake!..........."

       "Coffee and walnut cake...........Mrs Cotton's beef and onion pasties.............hand-raised pork pie......chocolate sponge...............liver and bacon casserole.............garlic mushrooms............" Faramir was mumbling deliriously. "Oooooh! Mrs Bracegirdle's steak and mushroom pie!"

       "I wouldn't know where to start, it all sounds so delicious," said Eowyn, peering over her husband's shoulder. "Pincup Pond Pudding! What on earth does that mean? 'North Farthing Hotpot' - that sounds interesting....."

       Legolas and Gimli - staying at the Citadel for the festival - both rose from their corner, where they had been playing with the children, and hurried over. Legolas could read upside down, which irritated Gimli enormously as he felt sure he was missing something.

       Arwen had joined Aragorn on the rug and recognised some of the recipes. "Bubble and squeak - Bilbo made that for us in Rivendell. Did you have that when you were there?"

       "On the night we arrived at Bag End, and it was superb - Rose just made more! Hobbits never seem to be put out by extra guests, do they?" Aragorn scanned the little note inside, and read the inscription on the flyleaf.

       To His Majesty King Elessar Telcontar, Rose Gamgee sends her compliments and respectfully presents a collection of receipts from her own collection and those of many families within the Shire. All the Shire-folk wished to be included and were happy to donate their traditional family receipts for this Shire cookbook. May you enjoy them all, though not all at once!     Fifteenth day of Blotmath, 1430 SR.

       He turned his attention to the note. "Rose says that she and Frodo have managed two copies so far but they will be sending others to my cousins and to Beregond, as well as to Rivendell, Ithilien and the Glittering Caves." He grinned as Gimli gave a grunt of satisfaction. "No-one will be left out, it seems."

       "I'm surprised they've had time to produce two copies with everything else that they've had to deal with this year," said Faramir, tearing his attention away from the mouth-watering delights within the pages.

       "Frodo is, as Mithrandir told me so often, a remarkable hobbit. How he found the time to copy out and bind two of these is beyond me. What with the attack by Sandyman, then the aftermath of that incident, the hearing and comforting the Sandyman family, Frodo's birthday and a new kitten to play with. Such time-wasters, nothing is ever completed with kittens about!" He lifted one of his own cats and cradled the creature in his arms.

       "Ada, Merry and Pippin keep pouncing on the paper!" Gilraen called. "They are so naughty!"

       "Pippeen!" cried little Melian, stretching out her hands to the large silver cat. He rubbed against her fingers, causing her to giggle and coo at him.

       "You know," Aragorn murmured to Faramir, "The kitchen staff have all been given the day off tomorrow, to visit their own families."

       "Really? Then the kitchens will be free............."

       "Exactly! We can try some of these tempting recipes and surprise everyone with dinner." Aragorn grinned. "An excellent idea I think."

       He had misjudged Elven hearing. Behind him Arwen leaned close to Eowyn. "I wonder how much mess those two can make in an afternoon?"

      Although questioned about the reason for their laughter, the ladies remained diplomatically silent.

In honour of the Baggins birthday.

22nd Halimath, 1430 SR

Rose had cooked Frodo's favourite dishes for second breakfast - mushrooms, fried potatoes and bacon, followed by toast and the bitter orange jam which she had made with fruit sent from Gondor. She pottered round the kitchen, warming plates, fetching cutlery and feeding the younger children. Little Sooty was safely shut in Frodo's bedroom during meal preparation but Rufus sat on the small wooden settle in the corner, washing his paws and watching her carefully.

       Sam, Frodo and the threee older children arrived back from the stables, having mucked out the ponies and collected the eggs on the way back. The dozen brightly coloured hens were now out in the small paddock, scratching around and clucking contentedly.

       "Happy birthday, Frodo dear!" Rose kissed his cheek. "I've made all your favourites."

       There was a pile of packages next to Frodo's plate. When he had lived with dear old Bilbo the two byrdings had always exchanged gifts at second breakfast, but the mountain of brightly-wrapped gifts on the kitchen table reminded him that he was now part of a very large and loving family. He blinked back tears of joy as the loving warmth of the Gamgees enveloped him completely.

       "Open something, Uncle Fwo!" cried Rosie-lass impatiently, dancing up and down.

       "Open mine!" begged Frodo-lad.

       "Uncle Fro will eat breakfast first, or it will congeal and be horrible!" Rose declared, placing a heaped plate before him.

       "That's decided then. We all have to listen to your Mum, don't we?" He turned to face West, hand on heart, then sat and began to eat.

       For a time there was little talk, as everyone ate eagerly. Baby Pip munched a large jam sandwich - raspberry jem being his current favourit - and Merry-lad used a spoon because his mother had cut his food for him.

       "Please open something, Uncle Fro," said Ellie at last, and everyone laughed. The Gamgee children were not noted for their patience, perticularly where the opening of presents was concerned.

       Frodo lifted several packages but the children shook their heads until he came to one very square one. It was surprisingly heavy.

       "Open that one!"

       "Now who is this from?" He read the label, which was written in a square, almost runic hand, and said To Frodo Baggins, the hobbit I am honoured to call my friend. I think this will please you and whenever you use it, remember your friend Gimli with affection. He opened the box and lifted out an exquisite silver inkstand. It had wells for four different coloured inks, a pen holder, a drawer with several very fine silver nibs and another draw for a pen wiper. It was topped with a small, beautifully-wrought figure of a seated cat.

       "Oh my! This is magnificent! Gimli must have gone to such a lot of trouble making this."

       "But it isn't trouble if you're doing something for a dear friend. It gave him great joy to make this, I'll be bound," said Rose, smiling.

       "Quite right!" added Sam. "As you'll see when I show you my present."

       He opened the other parcels to reveal all sorts of things - a new cravat in dark gold silk from Rose, writing paper from the children, a book of dwarven history from Gloin and the Dwarves of Erebor. a pen wiper from the Sandymans, a set of handkerchieves from May and her family, shirts from Widow Rumble and a small box of morels from Rufus and Sooty.

       Sam led Frodo outside to a part of the garden which he had been keeping secret for months. Frodo gasped. He was looking at a recreation of Lady Celebrian's forest garden in Rivendell, with young silver birch saplings - another gift, this time from Legolas - and a sea of tiny cyclamen flowers nodding gently in the soft breeze. Sam had also planted snowdrops, crocuses and bluebells to provide constant delight throughout the Spring. In one corner, close to the small stream, was a carved bench, made from a piece of the old Party Tree.

       "Oh Sam! This is so beautiful! You really are the dearest friend anyone could have. How long did this take you? You've worked so hard changing this part of the garden."

      "And I loved every minute of it because I was doing it for you. It was a labour of love, m'dear."

       "I can come here and and just revel in the peace and quiet. This is wonderful - my own secret place!" Frodo was gleeful and thrilled. He wrapped his arms round Sam and hugged him fiercely.

       "Thank you, my dearest brother."

                                                                          ************

       After lunch the guests arrived. Tooks, Cottons, everyone from New Row and a good many friends from Hobbiton and Bywater all trooped into the Party Field, where Frodo handed out his gifts. There was much eating, dancing and laughter. The Sandyman family seemed happy to be there, Tully Noakes sat with Will Whitfoot and Farmer Cotton, the pipeweed jar between them.

       Frodo thoroughly enjoyed his birthday. As the children grew sleepy and some of the guests reluctantly departed he strolled to the mallorn and sat down with his back to the trunk. He rubbed his fingers gently against the silver bark and suddenly he was aware of a grove of mallorns. An old, grey haired hobbit was laughing and raising a tankard. Beside him was a tall figure in glowing white robes, holding a much larger tankard, two tall and graceful women, one with golden hair and one with hair like mithril silver, and a dark-haired Elf. He could hear beautiful singing and the mallorns swayed above the little group, joining their song with the Elves.

       "Happy birthday, Bilbo," he whispered, and a voice in his ear, dear and familiar, whispered back.

       "Happy birthday, my dearest lad."

Yule Eve 1430 SR

It was the day before Mettarë in Gondor. The King liked to combine this with the Yule festival as celebrated in the Northern Kingdom, and the children were helping to decorate the private apartments in the northern manner, with ivy, juniper and pine boughs. Holly did not grow naturally in the south lands but Sam had sent some young holly bushes to Gondor seven years previously and these flourished on the lower slopes of Mount Mindolluin and in the wetter lands of South Gondor. Legolas had encouraged mistletoe to grow on apple boughs in Ithilien and there was now enough to have a few small sprigs hung over doorways. The bright red of the holly berries combined with the shiny, prickly leaves, and the white-berried mistletoe delighted the royal children, who were somewhat over-excited. They had been joined by the children of the Steward and his Lady, and six lively youngsters were running around, shrieking and bumping into things. Eowyn rolled her eyes sympathetically at Arwen, who seemed completely immune to the noise. She was an oasis of calm amid the chaos and Eowyn realised yet again just why Aragorn adored her. Eowyn herself was forced to raise her voice and shout to gain the children's attention but Arwen merely clapped her hands, placed a finger on her lips and said, "Hush!"and all was quiet.

        Faramir arrived from the Steward's Apartments and the company was increased within minutes by Legolas and Gimli.

       "Where's Aragorn?" asked Gimli, surveying the room. "And what's all this?" He made a sweeping gesture with his hand to indicate the chairs and couches, which had been re-arranged to form a circle around a small table.

       "He's gone to fetch something," said Arwen. "You'll find out what this is for when he returns. Children! Come and sit down now. We have a surprise gift for you."

       The children were in their places in seconds, gazing expectantly at the Queen. Legolas laughed merrily.

       Aragorn appeared, holding something wrapped in black silk. He was wearing his oldest and most comfortable clothes, and looked very cheerful. He placed the cloth-draped bundle on the small table, removed his boots and greeted his wife, children and guests.

       "Come! Sit and make yourselves comfortable. I have a very special gift for everyone today."

       They all found seats, Melian and Theodwyn on their mothers' laps, and he unveiled the round globe of the palantir, to gasps and murmurs. He addressed them, particularly the children.

       "Before we go any further I want to make it clear that this will not be a frequent occurrence. The palantir is not a plaything, nor is its use to be taken lightly. The control of the seeing-stone is something which must be acquired. One day, my son, I shall begin to teach you this, but do not think that you could do so yet. And although we do not believe that any are left in evil hands, care is needed lest we fall unwittingly under the control of another." He glanced at Faramir. "It could happen to anyone. Is this clear?"

       "Yes adar!"

       "Yes, Lord Elessar!" the children chorused.

       "Good. I know you have long wished to meet the Gamgee children and see the Shire, and this must suffce until we can all visit." He held his hand above the palantir, closed his eyes and turned the stone to his will.

       "I can see lights!" cried Gilraen.

       "So can I!" said Elboron, hands clasped in his excitement.

       "Those are the lights of New Row, on the Hill," Legolas explained, smiling as Melian stretched out her hands towards the windows of the Row.

       It felt as though they were travelling up the Hill. The lights of Bag End shone brightly, but even as they watched, the lights were dimmed, the round door opened and a gaggle of cloaked and bundled little hobbits tumbled out, giggling and chattering in high-pitched tones.

       "That's Elanor!" Finduilas exclaimed. "She's so pretty!" The light from the lamp above the door was shining full on the face of the graceful hobbit lass.

       "She above all carries my daernaneth's blessing," said Arwen softly.

       "Look! Frodo-lad looks just like Uncle Sam."

       As the small Gamgees spilled down the path, Rose's voice could be heard issuing instructions.

       "Ellie! Hang on to Merry-lad. Fro, make sure Rosie has her mittens on. Miss Rosie Gamgee! If you take that scarf off once more you will be staying in your bed for the evening!" It won't strangle you - don't be silly!"

       Everyone watching laughed at these commands, and the disgruntled expression on little Rosie's face. Rose was next, carrying her bump gracefully and proudly. She had a basket over her arm and several jars could be seen inside. Clearly there would be pickles at the party. Sam stepped out, carrying a well-muffled baby Pip. Behind him came Frodo, wearing thick warm clothes, a scarf and his fur-lined cloak from Rivendell. He paused as Rufus sauntered past him, followed by his small shadow, then shrugged and closed the front door.

       "Where are they all going?" asked Elboron.

       Aragorn laughed. "This is one of the most important northern customs. They have all made lists of the year's troubles and griefs, and these will be burnt at the Yule bonfire, as they prepare to put the old year behind them and welcome the new. Then they await the procession of the Apple-Man, when cider is poured around the roots of the apple trees in all the orchards, to ensure a good crop next year. Merry and Pippin will be doing the same in Buckland - it is the turn of the Brandybucks to host the festivities this year."

       The family reached New Row and were joined by a great crowd of children who all swarmed towards the Party Field. Aragorn, Faramir, Legolas and Gimli identified the hobbits as they joined the throng, all laughing and talking, faces flushed with cold and pleasure.

       "There's Widow Rumble and her daughter."

       "That's the Bunce family - they live at Number 4 - and there's Nat Grubb and his family from next door at Number 5."

       "Oh look! There's May - she is said to be the most like Sam's mother. Those are her children - and there's Hob, her husband.......oh! and there's Mrs Sandyman."

       Ivy Sandyman and her family greeted the Bag End residents. Violet tucked her arm through Ellie's and they were joined by Tansy Bunce and May's daughter Teasel. Tully Noakes led his family through the gate and over the stile at the end of New Row and the whole group made their way down the Hill. Columbine skipped ahead to be with Ellie and her friends.

       It was a beautiful night in the Shire. A spangling of frost glittered on the grass and bushes and the trees seemed to have been dusted with sugar. Multitudes of stars twinkled in the blackness of the night sky like diamonds on velvet and the Moon hung low above the fields like a great lantern.

       In the far corner of the Party Field stood a cart. The horse, covered in a thick blanket, was munching contentedly from a bucket of warm mash which steamed in the cold air. Mrs Cotton and her daughters-in-law were unloading trays of pasties and pies as Jolly and Tom set up a great cauldron of soup. The crackle of roasting chestnuts and the smell of mulled cider filled the air until those watching in far away Minas Anor were salivating.

       The fire was burning well. Frodo led the little ones towards it, instructing them to stay outside the circle of stones which had been placed around it. A stray flame might easily catch a dangling scarf or the hem of a cloak and lead to disaster. He advised them to roll their lists into a ball and throw them in because flat pieces of paper would be caught by the wind and not reach the fire. They did as they were told. Merry-lad was first, followed by most of the others who went forward in a large group. Frodo glanced around to check the whereabouts of Rufus and Sooty, who were sitting together on a bench, far away from the flames, eating sausages. He threw his own piece of paper in and stood in thought for a moment or two.

       "I wonder what Uncle Frodo's sorrows were this year?" said Eldarion. "It's been a nice year for him, hasn't it?"

       His father smiled and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I suspect his only sorrow was that Ted Sandyman could not be saved. That would be a great regret I think." He watched as Mrs Sandyman murmured something to Frodo, who nodded, smiled and moved back from the fire. "I daresay the Sandyman family have those regrets too, even if Ted's death has made their lives easier and less frightening."

       Most hobbits having visited the fire, they now stood around sipping mulled cider, eating chestnuts and talking. Many were already at the table, helping themselves to spiced mushrooms, baked potatoes in their jackets, meat pies and sausages. Everyone had cooked something for the feast. Heaped plates and full tankards and good company were the basic ingredients in any hobbit gathering.

       "I wish we could be there - it looks such fun," said Eowyn.

       "One day we shall all go there, I promise," said the King.

       The sudden slow beat of a drum was heard. Hobbits looked up and then began to file over to the lane. The flare of torches was visible in the distance, and chanting voices gradually made themselves heard. The children were hushed and open-mouthed, and even the adults in the King's sitting-room were still. Somehow there was an ancient power in this simple procession, something which reached back in time to Ages long past, and raised the hair on the back of the neck.

                   The Apple Man cometh, .

                   Be full of good cheer!

                  And bid a farewell to

                  The last of the year.

                            *****

                 The earth is a-sleeping  

                  The trees are at rest.

             Let's make sure the harvest

                 Next year is the best!  

                          *****

                 So fill up the tankard

                And pour in the brew.

              Let Apple Man's blessing

                 Fall full upon you!

       The procession arrived in the Party Field, to cheers from those assembled. The tall figure leading the group was two hobbits, one upon the shoulders of the other, to make him as large as a man. He wore a long green cloak, and around his brow he wore a wreath of ivy and yew. He carried a staff of apple wood and his attendants bore sacks of apples on their backs, which they handed out to one and all, in exchange for mugs of cider. Having visited one or two other villages in the West Farthing, they were considerably merry. When they had drunk their fill, eaten some food and poured a libation round the roots of the mallorn, Sam took them up to Bag End, where the Apple Man blessed the orchard, gave the trees a good helping of cider and told them to yield well next season. Then they walked back to the lane, accepted a large basket full of food and wound their way - slightly unsteadily, it must be said - towards Overhill.

        Several hobbits set up an impromptu band and soon most folk were dancing. Rufus watched the proceedings through half-closed eyes while little Sooty dozed beside him.

       The scene faded, much to the disappointment of the children - and adults. However, they were grateful to have had the chance to see their friends and the young hobbits they knew of from letters and their fathers' vivid descriptions.

       "That was so lovely! Thank you, adar."

       "Thank you, Lord Elessar."

       "Thank you, my love," said Arwen. She smiled at everyone. "I have another little surprise for you. As we have had a wonderful visit to the Shire, I thought we should have a hobbity high tea."

       It was the work of a few moments to replace the couches in their more usual arrangement while Aragorn returned the palantir to its locked room in the White Tower. He returned to find the tables full of delicious food - tomato soup, spiced garlic mushrooms, potato cakes, sausages wrapped in bacon, crusty bread with fresh creamy butter - and Faramir and Gimli were preparing mulled wine while the children drank fruit punch. Watching the Shire-folk seemed to have inspired everyone and they all ate with gusto until there was nothing left.

       "This has been perfect," said Legolas. "I felt I was there."

       "We must write and tell them how much we enjoyed our visit, adar. I wish they could see us."

       "They do have a portrait of you so they know what you look like. And now you have seen the delightful little Gamgees and their friends. Now you know what we mean about Bag End being a very special place."

       "With very special people in it," added Eldarion, and everyone agreed.

1394 SR

Bilbo glanced out of the window. Looking after Pippin was not a task to be undertaken lightly. That lad could get into mischief in an empty room, and who knew what havoc he might cause in the Gaffer's flower beds?

       "That's it, lad. Is the tray loaded? Go along then. I'll be out with the teapot in a minute."

       "It's alright, Uncle Bilbo. Gandalf's watching him. He's a Wizard. Surely he can keep Pippin in order?"

       Bilbo humphed. Wizard or no, he privately thought Gandalf would have a problem with the little Took, although they seemed to get on very well.

       Frodo walked into the garden, careful to look where he was walking. Pip left so many toys around that it was easy to trip, and he was too fond of Bilbo's pasties and Bell Gamgee's cherry cake to see it spread all over the path. He placed the tray carefully on the table and turned as an excited Pippin hurtled towards him.

       "Fwodo! I teached Gandalf a new song!"

       "Did you, Pip? That's nice."

       Frodo paled slightly. Pippin loved to sing but he did not always use the established words. Like all small children, Pip liked to use words his parents would rather he did not know. At Yule 'Mary Had a Little Lamb...' had been reinvented as 'Mary had a belly-button' and the Three Blind Mice might have been alarmed to learn that the farmer's wife cut off something other than their tails.

       "Most .......ah..........educational it was too," murmured Gandalf, his voice quivering slightly. Thankfully Gandalf was in a good humour and at least the tiny Took had not been turned into something unnatural.

       A snigger from behind the hollyhocks told Frodo that Sam had also found the song amusing.

       Bilbo looked down at the little lad and smiled indulgently. "And what song did you teach Gandalf, my lad?"

       Pippin batted his eyelashes and gazed innocently at everyone. "I teached him a song about a birdie."

       "Which one is that, dearest?" asked Frodo."I don't think I know that one."

       A slow and very mischievous grin spread across Pippin's face, he clasped his hands in front of him and recited, in a sing-song voice:

           Little birdie in the sky,                                                                                                        

          Dropping things from way up high.

          Angry farmer wipes his eye,

          Very glad that cows don't fly!

       Frodo bit his lip. Bilbo was making loud snorting noises, the Wizard's shoulders were shaking and the spluttering from the nearby flower bed announced that Sam had abandoned all pretence and was probably stuffing a handkerchif in his mouth to stifle his mirth.

       Gandalf blew a large smoke ring and said casually, "In all my years in Arda I don't believe I have heard that particular ditty. Peregrin Took, you have broadened my education!"

       "I can believe that," said Bilbo.

       Pippin beamed. He had managed to teach a Wizard something!

                                                                          ************

       Foreyule 1418 SR

       Gandalf often sang very softly to himself as he wandered the paths of Rivendell, puffing on his pipe and considering the journey to come. One morning Aragorn listened carefully to what Gandalf was singing, shook his head in case his hearing was faulty, and then began to laugh. Boromir glanced at the Man.

       "Something amuses you?"

       "Have you heard what Gandalf is singing?" Aragorn gasped when he could catch his breath.

       "I must confess I was not really listening," replied the Gondorian Captain-General. His expression grew more incredulous. "Did I hear.......? Did he just.......?"

       "Gandalf's not as fierce as you'd think," said Pippin with a confiding nod. "I taught him that song years ago." He turned and winked at his fellow hobbits. "I'll teach it to you later if you like."

       Bilbo watched the four young hobbits disappear into the house for elevenses, then smiled at the two Men. "I should take him up on that, gentlemen.You don't receive an offer like that every day. And if he can teach a Wizard..........."

       "Umm," mumbled Boromir.

       "Quite," said Aragorn.

       In the shadows, a very amused Dwarf and a startled Elf exchanged smiles. The journey had suddenly become much more interesting.

Takes place on the return journey from Minas Tirith ('Reunion in Minas Tirith').

Winterfilth 1429

The Feast of the Dead was celebrated in most lands, and Rohan was no exception. The hobbits, Gimli, Legolas, Lord Celeborn and the Twins were all sitting in the Golden Hall. The torches had all been snuffed, leaving only the light from the great central hearth. A page re-filled their cups with spiced mead and Eomer began to tell the tale of the Phantom Rider, who was sometimes encountered on the plains of the Westfold. He never spoke and normally did not seek encounters with the living, but occasionally some unfortunates among Rohan's enemies had seen him at close quarters, with dire consequences.

       "It is said that he will never show his face to a friend of Rohan, but those who have seen him say that beneath his helmet his eyes are blank sockets and his face a grinning skull."

       Rose shivered. "I'll wager that orcs didn't hang around if he put in an appearance?"

       "Indeed they did not. To see him means death within the year, although many have heard the hoofbeats and lived to tell the tale."

       "In Dol Amroth there is a haunted house which has been empty for over a hundred years. People tried to live in it but only stayed a day or two before being driven out." Lothiriel smiled. "My brother and I wanted to creep in and see what it looked like inside, but our nurse was too strict and would not allow us to explore."

       "Did you ever find out what lay behind the haunting?" asked Merry.

       "A woman was murdered there. She had been buried under the floor. It was said she wandered at night, looking for the children her husband had taken from her."

       Eomer helped himself to another of Rose's beef and onion tarts. "What do you call this festival in the Shire?"

       "It is called Samhain but part of it is called the Fright Festival, when children go 'guising' and we hollow out turnip lanterns."

       "Or pumpkins," Pippin pointed out.

       Frodo sniffed. "Pumpkins are a new-fangled introduction. It was always turnip lanterns in the Shire."

       "Frodo's a great one for tradition," Merry explained.

       "Do you remember that empty cottage near Bindbole Wood, Fro?" Pippin asked. "The one which looked as though it was gradually falling back into the earth? You took us camping near there once but you wouldn't tell us the story."

       "I didn't want to frighten you. Bilbo told me about it and it gave me the horrors although I was over thirty by then." Frodo sipped his mead and remembered the details of the tale. "At the time that these events occurred, Balbo Baggins was the Mayor and he said more in the family papers than he did in the official report. Apparently a couple lived there. The husband was rather like Ted Sandyman, brutal and unpleasant. The wife longed for children but every one she had died. One was lost to lung fever, another caught the crimson fever, a third was a case of crib death........... One day the husband disappeared and folk thought he'd upped and left. The wife was seen sometimes by those living nearby, but she rarely spoke and never invited anyone in. After a year or so the neighbours realised they had not seen her for a few days. They called and knocked but there was no answer."

       The Meduseld was hushed as everyone tensed, waiting to hear what was found.

       "Finally someone forced the door and they went in. The wife was sitting at the table, dead as a doornail, with the remains of a dish of poisonous mushrooms in front of her. Those who investigated further were horrified to find the corpse of her husband, dry and mummified, sitting up in the bed. In the other room they found the bodies of all the children lying side by side in their bed. There had been several disturbances in the local burial ground over the years and they realised she must have been in there, digging up her children and taking them home. Balbo said there was evidence that she'd poisoned the husband with death cap mushrooms."

       "That's horrible!" Sam murmured. "No wonder the place had such a reputation."

       "Poor lass," said Rose. "Losing every child must have driven her quite out of her mind I should think." The others nodded in agreement.

       "One ghost I'd love to meet is Bandobras Took," said Pip. "He's a hero of mine and someone I would like to talk to."

       "I daresay you'll have your chance one day," said Sam. "Who would we all like to meet if we could meet anyone? Living or dead."

       "Family and loved ones go without saying, added Merry.

       Eomer thought about it. "Helm Hammerhand. And Eorl of course."

       "I'd like to meet King Theoden," said Frodo, earning a beaming smile from Merry and Eomer. "What about you, Sam?"

       "Holman the Greenhanded," said Sam promptly.

       Rose frowned in concentration. "I'd love to see the Lady Galadriel - and Luthien, to see if she did look just like Lady Arwen. Oh! And I'd like a few words with that Denethor. The way he treated poor Faramir was dreadful! He should be ashamed of himself, treating his own son so harshly."

       "Ooops! Denethor should look out. He's going to be on the receiving end of the tea towel!" cried Pip. "What would you say to Denethor, Fro?"

       Frodo puffed on his pipe and pursed his lips. "Hmmm. How about 'Hello. I'm the witless halfling who took the Ring to Mount Doom!'"

       Merry sprayed mead in all directions and laughed. Even the Elves were amused. "I told you he wouldn't be happy about 'witless', Pip!"

       "Of course I realise I was not likely to win the Hobbiton and Bywater Sanest Citizen Award by the time I reached the mountain, but witless?! Really!"

       "Ah yes, but don't forget that when he said that, Denethor was only acquainted with one hobbbit - and that was Pip," Merry pointed out helpfully.

       "True. I'd forgotten that. A very good point, Merry-mine."

       "Hey! Sam, I'm being insulted here."

       Sam grinned. "I didn't hear any insults. Just heard Merry stating a fact, that's all."

       "Denethor was always readier to insult than to praise," Eomer agreed.

       "What about Elves and Dwarves? Do you have a similar feast to ours?" Pip asked the Twins and Gimli..

       "We do indeed pay tribute to those who dwell in the Halls of Mandos."

       "We remember those in Aule's care, laddie."

       "One of the stories which always scared me was when Bilbo told me about the houseless ones who try and take over a body." Frodo shuddered slightly.

       "And what about the Barrow-downs?" Merry added. "That was terrifying."

       "Indeed. There are many mysteries in Arda, and many terrors," said Legolas.

       "But there are gentle spirits too," Eomer reminded them. "It is said that the benevolent spirit of my aunt Elfhild walks this hall every night. A cloak spread over a chair will be folded in the morning, an overturned goblet righted, an ale flask re-corked. Even the hounds do not fear her."

       "She sounds a sweet lady and I'm sure none of us would be afraid if we met her," said Rose as they made their way to bed.

                                                                          ************

       In the darkened hall the hounds slumbered near the fire. Lothiriel's shawl, left in a heap on the floor, was folded and draped over the arm of her chair. Only the wakeful tabby cat watched as cups were set straight on the tables and a dangling tapestry needle was deftly and safely tucked into the fabric. His eyes narrowed as he followed the unseen presence as it flitted about the Golden Hall.

       One other had tip-toed from his bed to see if Eomer's tale was true. He stood in the doorway, silent as only a hobbit could be..

        "Good-night, gentle lady," murmured Frodo Baggins.

        A soft hand brushed his hair and he thought he felt a kiss, light as thistledown upon his brow.

Frodo wriggled contentedly and enjoyed the sensation of being half-awake in that time before dawn on First Yule. The bright light outside told him that there was snow, which made it even more perfect. Beneath the quilt Rufus purred, pushing his paws against his master's hip, while Sooty chased his own tail as though it were a strange animal. Frodo giggled quietly and prodded the bedclothes, just to see the kitten jump and pounce.

                                                                         ************

       In the master bedroom at Bag End the children bounced on their parents.

       "It's Yule!"

       "Can we open our gifts?"

       "There's salt pork for breakfast!"

       Sam groaned in mock horror and pulled the covers over his head. "Why can't you go back to bed for an hour or so?"

       "We're too 'cited!" declared Merry-lad.

       "An' hungy," added Pip.

       "Le's go see Unca Fwo!"

       "Wait - don't you go disturb-" Sam sighed, realising he was too late.

       "Weeeeee! Let's say Merry Yule to Uncle Fro."

       Shrieking and giggling, the children rushed down the corridor, leaving their father looking rueful.

       "Frodo needs his rest - they shouldn't wake him up too early."

       "He's fine," said Rose, settling back with her head on his shoulder. "You know he doesn't mind. He loves Yule himself."

       Sam chuckled. "He does that. I should have realised I have the cleverest wife in the Shire." He snaked an arm round Rose and rested his other hand lightly on her expanding bump.

       "Yes, you should," she said mildly. From the far end of the passage came whoops of glee.

       A few minutes later Frodo and the children appeared in the doorway.

       "Are you two slug-a-beds still here?" He turned to the children. "Should we allow them to stay here?"

       "No!" shouted the children.

       "Yes!" said Sam and Rose.

       Frodo gave them a fiendish grin. "I'm going to put the kettle on - "

       "You'll look daft."

       "You don't know that. I may well look very stylish wearing a kettle! As I was saying, I shall put the kettle on. If you two are still loafing in bed by the time the kettle boils I'm afraid we shall have to take drastic action. Won't we?" he addressed the children.

       "We'll drag you out," said Frodo-lad smugly.

       "That's right. You have five minutes. Then I unleash the children............." He wagged a finger.

       Sam and Rose watched the chortling group depart and flopped back. After a moment they looked at each other and both began to laugh.

       "You did say he's as bad as the little 'uns. Can't grumble though - it's wonderful to see him enjoying life again." Sam grabbed his robe.

       Rose giggled. "Come on then. Don't want them trooping back and hauling me out like Ma used to on wash-day." She took Sam's hand and they followed the sound of laughter to the warm and cheerful kitchen.

First Yule 1432 SR

The Bag End parlour was quiet as the children napped on the over-stuffed chairs and couches. Walking carefully, so as not to wake them, Frodo went to the log basket and added another log to the flames. Goldie whimpered in her cradle and Frodo-lad sleepily reached over and rubbed her tummy. It would soon be midnight and then Second Yule and a new year, and the children were still up because their mother was busy bringing another baby into the world.

       Sam tried not allow his children to see how worried he was but he was afraid this would not be the usual easy birth. Garnet Tunnelly had spent the day with them just in case Rose went into labour, and Sam and Frodo cooked Yule dinner. Rose ate well and spent the afternoon sewing, but her pains began after tea and Rose's mother and Doctor Porto were both on hand to help.

       Lily Cotton poked her head out of the bedroom. "Things are going just fine, Sam. Goodness gracious! Are those children still up?"

       "They don't want to go to bed until the babe comes and I haven't the heart to make 'em."

       "Well, I don't suppose it'll hurt just this once. It is a special occasion after all." She went into the kitchen, made more tea and nodded approvingly when she saw that Frodo was ensuring a plentiful supply of hot water.

       A sharp exclamation from Rose, only slightly muffled by the bedroom door, made Sam jump. He leapt to his feet and went into the hall, his whole bearing full of tension. Frodo glanced sympathetically at his friend and stroked Rosie-lass' curls as she slumbered in the largest armchair with her sister. As he did so he noticed that Ellie was awake. Her eyes were open and she looked frightened.

       "Mum is going to be alright, isn't she, Uncle Fro? Da seems really worried this time."

       "No more than usual, lovely," he said smoothly. "He doesn't like to think of your mum in pain."

       Ellie narrowed her beautiful aquamarine eyes. "Are you sure?"

       "Positive," Frodo said as calmly as he could. They had managed to keep the secret from the children for the simple reason that this pregnancy was not following the normal pattern, and, as Rose herself had said, there was no point counting chickens.........

       Just before midnight the cry of a new-born startled everyone into wakefulness. Goldie grizzled a little and Frodo lifted her into his arms and bounced her gently. A few moments later Garnet peered in, smiling.

       "A little lad, as bright as a button." She vanished again and the children waited to be summoned in.

       "Give them time. The baby has to be washed and so does your mum. Who wants a biscuit while we wait?"

       To the impatient children and their father and uncle, it seemed as if the wait lasted hours but finally Lily beckoned Sam inside. She was smiling broadly and looked relieved and proud. Frodo-lad threw himself back in the chair in disgust and Merry-lad banged his fist on the arm of the chair to demonstrate his frustration. They were rewarded when Garnet opened the door and welcomed them all in.

       As they filed in they saw their mother holding a shawl-swathed baby and grinning tiredly.

       "Are you alright, Mum?" Ellie asked anxiously.

       "I'm fine, my lovie. Come and say hello to little Hamfast."

       "Your mum is well and everything went very nicely," Doctor Porto reassured the lass.

       Frodo turned Ellie slightly so that she could see her father. The other children swivelled as well and Rose laughed out loud at the shock on their faces, for there was Sam, holding another swaddled bundle.

       "There's two babies!" cried Rosie-lass. Pip-lad clapped his hands and even tiny Goldie looked puzzled.

       "That's right. We knew there might be two, and that's why Garnet and Doctor Porto have been looking after me extra carefully."

       "What's this one called?"

      "Not sure yet. This is a lass," said Sam, who was grinning like a cat who had stolen all the cream and eaten the canary.

       "How did you know there was two?" Merry-lad demanded.

       "I felt two babies moving in my tummy. Your gammer told me what it felt like when she was expecting your Uncle Jolly and me, and we realised we might be having twins. It runs in families. Lord Elrond is one of twins and he had twin sons."

       "And do you know the strangest and most wonderful thing?! asked Sam, as he sat on the bed so that both babies could be admired at once. "One was born just before midnight and the other just after, so one was born in the old year and one in the new."

       Frodo gazed down at the squashed faces, button noses and tiny clenching fingers. "Baby Hamfast even looks a bit like the Gaffer. And doesn't the lass look like your Daisy?"

       Rose looked at the faces and laughed. "So she does. Perhaps we should call her Daisy then, Sam-love?"

       "Hope she's not as sharp-tongued as her auntie." He smiled. "But it's a good name and she'll be thrilled."

       Ellie looked around the room, her face radiant. "This is the best Yule present ever!"

                                                                  Hidden Treasure

Summer 1433 SR

Rose fought the urge to pinch herself. Sitting in her parlour were two of the greatest Elven lords left in Middle-earth. Sprawled comfortably on the couch - and cradling the tiny twins Hamfast and Daisy - was Glorfindel, warrior of Imladris, legendary Balrog-slayer and Lord of the House of the Golden Flower. In Gandalf's old chair sat the King of Eryn Lasgalen with little Goldie asleep on his chest.

       "I've brought you some tea, my lords." She placed a tray on the small circular table with an effort. Big People's teapots were heavy. "Shall I take Goldie now, my lord Thranduil? She'll be in the way while you'trying to have your tea."

       "Oh I think we can manage, my dear Mistress Rose. She is a very sweet child and she seems to be sleeping quite soundly."

       "Well if you're sure. I'd better feed the twins though. I'll just fetch some cake." She hurried out of the room, leaving two delighted Elf-lords grinning. She was back almost immediately and placed a large plate on the table before gathering the twins. "Will you be alright? I assume you know how to pour a cup of tea, my lord. Should be simple after facing a Balrog, the Witch-King and Lord Namo." She twinkled at Glorfindel and trotted out in a swirl of blue skirts.

       Thranduil shook his head bemusedly. "I have lived through several ages of the world but I feel as though I've been .............." he waved a hand as he sought for the right word.

       "Mothered?" the blond Noldo suggested, walking to the table and pouring two cups of tea. "Yes, Rose is a remarkable being in her own right. Shall I be mistress of the house?"

       "I doubt Mistress Rose would allow that, but I'm sure you can manage to pour tea without too much difficulty."

       The leader of the armies of Rivendell examined the contents of the plate and whistled. It was a trick he had learned from the Dunedain and Celebrian used to scold him for it, particularly when he taught little Arwen how to make a very un-ladylike whistle with her fingers in the corners of her mouth. No doubt very few people knew that the Queen of Gondor could have summoned her husband from anywhere in the Citadel if she so chose.

        "Now this is Rose Gamgee's celebrated coffee and walnut cake if I am not mistaken!"

       Within seconds the two Elves were happily scoffing the famous cake. Glorfindel noted that Thranduil seemed much more relaxed these days. The Fall of Sauron, avenging the death of Oropher, and the overthrow of Dol Guldur had led to better days in the Greenwood. The spiders and other fell creatures had been much easier to defeat without the guiding influence of the Dark Lord's will and Greenwood was Great once more.

       Goldilocks snuggled closer to the Elven King. She had toddled into the room and held out her arms with cries of "Up! Up!" and Thranduil obliged. He had first made the acquaintance of hobbit younglings during the visit to Gondor for Elessar's hundredth birthday and had been charmed.

       "Is that also cherry cake I can see?" he now enquired, one eyebrow lifting.

       "It is indeed." Glorfindel proffered the laden plate and they enjoyed another of Rose's specialities.

       "I wonder how she manages to keep the cherries spread through the cake? They usually sink to the bottom, don't they?"

       "I usually halve the cherries and dust them with flour, my lord Thranduil," Rose answered, slipping silently round the door. "That was my old gammer's solution to the problem and it seems to work."

       "Remarkable! I can see why my son loves to visit the Shire."

       "And we love having him here. And we are delighted to welcome you too, my lord. Sam and Frodo should be back soon. We knew surprise guests were coming but I'm sure they'll never guess who!"

       Goldilocks stirred, smiled up at Thranduil and gave him a hug. "Fank oo for my nap," she said with a beaming smile, and scampered off with her mother for tea.

       "You are most welcome, little one." Thranduil sat back with a look of great peace and contentment on his face, and sipped his tea.

                                                                         ************

       Frodo and Sam returned from Michel Delving to find the Party Field full of Elves and their attendant audience of hobbits. The Twins and Legolas were familiar faces but one they were delighted to see again was Haldir. The former Marchwarden of Lorien was on his first visit to the Shire and he was finding it a strange and wonderful experience.

       Assured that other surprises awaited them at Bag End, Frodo and Sam hurried along, stabled their horses and went straight to the kitchen. Rose and the children were resolutely tight-lipped about the guests in the parlour and, realising they were not going to be given any more information, the two hobbits hastened to see just who was there.

       "Glorfindel!" they both cried out in surprise as they saw the golden-haired Elf, who embraced them eagerly. As he hugged Glorfindel, Frodo noticed another Elf, one he did not know, who now stood and advanced slowly.

       "Frodo Baggins, at your service and your family's," he said, bowing. "You're Lord Thranduil, father of one of my dearest friends. Your son looks a lot like you."

       The Elven King bowed to the two hobbits. "I remember your cousin Bilbo. I came to learn that hobbits are remarkable, and you are both the finest examples of that. I have long wished to meet you and I honour you both."

       "Samwise Gamgee, at your service, and your family's, your majesty." Sam bowed.

       "Did Elessar not tell you that you bow to no-one? We are all indebted to you. Had the Dark Lord not fallen when he did, the Greenwood would have been a burned ruin and my people scattered or slaughtered. It is thanks to you that the Greenwood flourishes."

       "I should think the Greenwood must be a real sight - all those beautiful trees growing tall and strong." Sam's voice was full of the love and reverence he felt for growing things.

       "You must come and visit it, and see it in all its glory."

       Frodo laughed. "I fear the peace of the Greenwood might be a little unsettled if we bring the entire family!"

       "Not at all. The laughter and joy of the Shirefolk and the playful young hobbits would only enhance it." He watched the smiles on the faces of the Ringbearers, and then he noticed something else. Both shone with a dazzling light, one mithril silver and the other warm gold, and those lights spoke to each other. Neither hobbit seemed to be aware of the awe in the faces of both Elves, but Sam spoke for both.

       "We should go and wash and change our clothes. Rose won't allow us to the table like this! She's cooking roast chicken and I'm not missing that. If you'll excuse us, my lords. Enjoy your tea and we'll be back in no time."

       Thranduil gazed after them, his expression one of shock, awe and admiration. "I never set foot in Valinor but surely those are the lights of the Two Trees!"

       Glorfindel nodded. "The greatest treasure of the Valar lives on in the Shire, hidden from prying eyes. The Lady Yavanna may not have been able to re-create the Trees but that light has reappeared in our beloved Ringbearers."

       "How the Valar must rejoice, to see these two. How fitting that their lights drove away the darkness. Now I understand what Legolas meant when he told me there was hidden treasure in the Shire."

       "Indeed. I think we're really going to enjoy this visit and something tells me that it will not be our last."

Forelithe 1431SR

He sits on a warm stone in the sunshine, black eyes bright and full of intelligence. Slugs and assorted flying insects are not safe when he is around, although Sam marvels that he does not seem to trouble the helpful insects. Ladybirds and bees fly by with impunity, but let greenfly or blackfly appear and the toad soon snatches them from the air. A big fat bluebottle is caught on his long sticky tongue and swallowed with a satisfied gulp.

       "That's right, my lad, you eat those all you like."

       Large as a saucer and reckoned to be at least twenty years old, he has been a part of life at Bag End since before the Quest. The children have named their garden resident 'Mr Pootle.' He takes no notice of Rufus as he wanders the Bag End gardens, and even little Sooty has decided to leave him alone. Young Sooty once rested a paw on the great toad's back, only to be disconcerted by the lack of reaction. The disgusting taste when he licked that paw made him foam at the mouth and Frodo had to wash the little cat's mouth out with cool fresh water. Now he gives Mr Pootle a very wide berth, staring suspiciously as he lumbers ponderously by on some errand of his own.

       Frodo smiles as he watches Sam chatting to the creature. The children have been out to inspect their friend before Ellie and Fro left for school and Rose is always careful not to stand on him when she hangs out the washing. Frodo wonders what happened to the toad while the ruffians were around. He was obviously a very sensible creature and stayed out of their way, camouflaged against soil and stones.

       "Look, Goldie. This is Mr Pootle and he helps your Da to look after the garden."

       He holds little Goldie so she can see the toad as he clambers up onto a larger rock. She probably cannot see well yet but she watches with interest. In time she will come to love the toad and look upon him as a guardian of the garden.

For all who wanted to know how Bag End's garden toad acquired his name.

20th Halimath 1430SR

       "Now, is everyone settled?"

       Frodo opened the book and glanced round at the expectant faces. The lads now had their own room but the lasses had joined them for the bedtime story. Pip-lad was in his cot, sucking his thumb and gazing solemnly at them. The four older children were sitting together, propped against the pillows and waiting eagerly for Uncle Fro to read to them. He had been away at Brandy Hall for a while and they were delighted to have him back.

       "Yes, Uncle Fro!"

       "So - what is it to be tonight?" It was a book from Dale, full of legends and fantastic tales, which Legolas had brought back for the Gangee children on his most recent visit.

       "Read the one about the garden fairy!" they chorused.

       "Once upon a time there was a beautiful garden. It was sunny and warm, sheltered from the wind by a fine old wall. All sorts of flowers grew there, and herbs, fruit and tasty vegetables for the kitchen. The gardener was gentle and patient and loved his plants......"

       "Just like Sam-dad!"

      "Yes, just like your Sam-dad. Of course the gardener thought that the garden's beauty was all due to his efforts and care, but he would have been very surprised to learn that others looked after it too. In the rockery lived a strange and rather plain little creature. During the day she remained out of sight for fear of frightening people, cool in the shelter of the damp stones, but at night, when the light of the stars and the moon filled the garden with silvery light and odd shadows, she crept out to visit all the plants in her beloved garden. No-one knew what kind of creature she was, but her name was Pootle.      

       "When the moonlight fell upon her plain features she became transformed. Her back straightened, her hair grew long and curling, she wore a pretty dress of pale silvery blue and, most wondrous of all, she grew....................."

       "Wings!" cried the children excitedly.

       "...........wings, shimmering and translucent. On her head was a little cap made from flower petals, and he tiny feet were bare.     

       "She took her watering can and little trimmers and flew to the tops of the fruit trees, where any diseased buds or fruit were snipped off, ledt they harm the tree. Tiny seedlings were watered, seeds were collected and dried before being sprinkled in exactly the right spot to grow and make the gardens even more beautiful. All night she worked, singing sweetly as she stroked the leaves and whispered to the trees to grow tall.

       "When the sun began to peep over the hills she hastened back to her damp home, her body and clothes changing and her wings disappearing. In her little house she made breakfast, then curled up in her bed to sleep for a while and visit the Land of Dreams. Around her, the garden was waking and new flower buds were opening. The gardener might believe that he was solely responsible for the garden's magnificent appearance but the flowers knew the truth."

         Frodo closed the book and smiled at the sleepy children. "Now I think you too are ready to visit the Land of Dreams." He kissed the lads, lifted Rosie-lass and took Ellie's hand and led the lasses across the passage to their room.

                                                                          **********

       The next morning, and the day before Uncle Frodo's birthday. The children were all out in the garden, exploring and helping to sweep at the same time. Merry-lad spotted the huge toad sitting on a flat stone in the sunshine and leaned down to touch him.

       "I wonder if we have a garden fairy who looks after things for Sam-dad?" Ellie was saying.

       "Where would she be during the day?" asked Fro. "We should try and find her."

       "I know where she is!" cried little Rosie, pointing to the toad.

       "Don't be silly! That doesn't look like a fairy!" retorted Fro. Rosie poked her tongue out.

       "Pootle doesn't look like a fairy in daytime."

       "She's Pootle!" said Merry-lad, his face glowing with belief.

       "Mr Pootle," Ellie corrected. "He's a lad, isn't he, Uncle Fro?"

       "Yes, he is."

       "There are lad fairies?" Fro and Rosie-lass demanded..

       Ellie rolled her eyes and replied with all the superiority of an older sister. "Of course there are, otherwise there wouldn't be any new fairies!"

       Frodo hastily disguised his snort as a cough. "Quite right, Elanorelle. There are certainly lad fairies." He looked down at the toad. "Well, Mr Pootle, it seems you are a great help to Sam and long may you continue. Your secret is safe with us."

       "What's all this - a secret council?" Sam approached, on his way to the compost heap with a barrow full of clippings and plants past their best.

       "That's Mr Pootle. He's a fairy - a lad fairy!" Rosie-lass explained. "At night he changes and he looks after the garden and makes sure all the flowers are happy."

       "Does he now?" Sam squatted on his haunches.He was careful not to meet Frodo's eyes or they would both laugh. "That's mighty good and helpful of him. We have to be careful where we tread so as not to hurt him. He'll eat all the bad insects and greenfly and some slugs too." He watched his younger daughter stroke the toad's head. "Now you make sure you wash your hands. He has bumps on his back where he makes nasty-tasting stuff so's no other creature eats him."

       "Bye-bye, Mr Pootle!" they cried. "We'll come back and see you soon."

       Sam chuckled and looked down at the toad. "Just our secret then lad." He winked at the creature and although he never told a soul, he could have sworn that Mr Pootle winked back.

                                                                         **********

       "Can we have one of your stories tonight, Uncle Fro?"

       "Oh yes please! Tell us about our garden fairy!"

       "Tell us about Mr Pootle. What does he wear when he's a fairy?"

       "Where does he live?"

       "Is there a Mrs Pootle?"

       Frodo held up his hands, laughing. "Quiet then and I shall tell you." He leaned back in the chair and began:

       "Once upon a time......................................

Summer 1433 SR

Thranduil leaned back against the mallorn, eyes half-closed in contentment. He could hear the laughter of a group of hobbit children who were playing wickets further down the Party Field; not harsh but soft and full of innocence and joy, merry as birdsong, bubbling as a flowing stream. Why had he not thought to visit the Shire before, he wondered.

       The bark of the mallorn was soft, smooth and cool to the touch but the warmth and strength of the life force within the trunk could be detected with ease by a Wood-elf. Thranduil could hear the thrumming of the tree and smiled. Legolas was right - it had a distinctly hobbity nature.

       Some of the hobbit youngsters were asking Glorfindel for a story. Thranduil hated to admit it because he loathed most of the Noldor, but he could not help liking Glorfindel. The leader of Rivendell's forces was not a typical Noldo and was certainly nothing like Feanor and his idiot offspring. The fact that he had remained with Turgon in Gondolin all those years, away from them, proved something. Rumour had it that the golden-haired balrog-slayer was part Vanyar - logical with hair that colour - and close kin to Fingolfin and Finarfin. Indeed it was said that his love for the sons of Fingolfin led Glorfindel to travel to Middle-earth, although he swore no oath and took no part in the kinslaying. Turgon had always been somewhat hot-headed and it seemed that Glorfindel tried to dissuade him from the enterprise, fearing that nothing good would come of it.

       The Elven King chuckled as he heard Glorfindel telling an exciting story. He was pretending to sound like a dragon, making fierce growling noises which reduced the little hobbits to helpless giggles. A weight on his legs caused Thranduil to look down, to find Rufus sprawled across his thighs, purring loudly and with great contentment. The Elf idly wondered if it was tea-time yet, and grinned. He was definitely discovering his inner hobbit, he thought. Having lived for several Ages of the world without thinking of food at all he was now becoming preoccupied with mealtimes and the delights which the Shire afforded.

       "Hobbits!" he mttered to himself. Their lives were so short by the reckoning of Elves and yet they delighted in the simple joys - home, family, food, ale, pipeweed, riddles, songs and friendship. They seemed determined to enjoy every minute of their time and that joyful innocence was infectious. Perhaps that was the secret to life - innocent simple pleasures and seven meals a day.

       "Hungry?" Glorfindel enquired, seeming to read the thoughts of others. "Can you believe that Haldir has been helping Mistress Rose to make ginger cake and malted fruit loaf? If only Galadriel could see this!"

       "Haldir? In a kitchen? This I have to see!"

       With apologies to Rufus, Thranduil arose and they made their way up the Hill, where Frodo was waiting on the steps of Bag End.

It has long been acknowledged that hobbits invented the smoking of pipeweed, the sandwich, the proper brewing of truly drinkable ale, the game of golf, umbrellas, and birthday cake. What is less well-known is that hobbits were the first to play the game known to them as 'wickets' and in the outside world as cricket.

       How do we know this? Cricket is a sport in which a match can last between one and five days and each day's play is interrupted for lunch and afternoon tea. No self-respecting hobbit is going to play a sport which lasts all day without at least two meal breaks - or three when played in Tuckborough during the time of Thain Peregrin, who demanded elevenses half an hour after a match began. At first only hobbits played the sport, in the Shire and the lands around Bree, but gradually Men began to take up the challenge. In the Fourth Age it was common in Rohan and Gondor and by the reign of King Eldarion it was being played in Harad and Rhun. The Dwarves played it with gusto and (so it is rumoured) the Elves did so too, with matches between the Greenwood and Erebor lasting a full five days. It is even believed by some to have found its way to the Blessed West, where cries of 'Howzat!' and 'Whip his bails off!' can still be heard. Legend has it that Olorin himself takes up the role of umpire at such times, and even the boldest of the Eldar do not argue when he raises a finger in stern dismissal.

       The fielding positions for cricket sound so outlandish that many people say that only a Took could have thought of them - silly point; silly mid-on; fine leg, deep fine leg, short leg, gully, extra cover and the slips. The Tooks say the Brandybucks are responsible for most of these, and the Brandybucks assert that the Bagginses are the ones to blame. Naturally the Bagginses simply smile charmingly and modestly say nothing.

       The most important match in the Shire was always the annual battle between the Tooks and the Brandybucks, with the location alternating between Tuckborough and Buckland. It was held on Second Lithe and all the Shirefolk were agreed that the Tooks were the most inventive players and the Brandybucks the most competitive.

       It is said that folk in the Breelands and the Shire still talk in hushed whispers about the match which was played in Tuckborough in 1409 SR, famous for producing the greatest display of spin bowling ever seen in Middle-earth and the sight of Bernigard Took fleeing for the pavillion with his breeches round his ankles. However, no-one ever said the Took v Brandybuck wickets match was a boring affair.

                                                                         ************

       Meriadoc Brandybuck woke early and padded to the window to see what sort of weather the day would bring. The sky was rather overcast and there had been rain during the night. Merry sighed. He was shaping up to be a good medium-pace bowler and his uncle Merimac was the best fast bowler in the Shire but they needed a hard, dry wicket. Damp and overcast was not good news. The only ones to profit from these conditions were the spin bowlers......... Merry grinned. The Brandybucks had the finest spin bowler in Eriador. Perhaps it would be a good day after all.

       Merry tapped on the door and waited. A soft voice called 'Come in' and Merry peered round the door. His cousin was looking out of the window, where the rose garden looked damp and rather drooping.

       "Reckon you'll have fun with the wicket today, Fro!"

       "I think it should turn very nicely. It's time we gave the Tooks a thumping." He grabbed his robe and they set off for the bathing room, animatedly discussing tactics for the day.

       The dining-room was full of eager hobbits eating or about to eat. Merry surveyed the gathering, grinning at Pip and those he loved. As his gaze travelled across the room he scowled at the sight of Bernigard Took. Berni may have been a Took by name but he took after his mother, who was a Clayhanger. Lavinia beamed at her son and glared at the upstart Brandybuck, who returned it with an insolent look. Lavinia was already showing signs of the same excessive weight gain as her great-aunt Lalia.

       "That's right, Berni darling, eat a good breakfast!" she trilled. " At least you look like a proper hobbit." She flickered a contemptuous glance at Frodo as she made the remark. The Brandybuck whelp was abnormally slim for a hobbit and she could never understand why he was so popular with so many of his relations. Most of the younger generation fawned over him and the family heads, or those who would one day hold such exalted positions, treated him with affection. The worst, in Lavinia's eyes, was Esmeralda Brandybuck, born a Took with auburn hair and a fiery temper to match. Lavinia had always been wary of Esme, who was one of the Old Took's descendants and capable of giving someone 'The Look' whenever she thought they deserved it. Esme regarded herself as Frodo's mother and had always defended him stoutly against anyone, particularly Lalia, Lobelia and Lavinia - 'the Loathesomes', as she called them. At least Lalia was no more - she had died seven years before when her wheeled chair rolled down the steps of Great Smials, and was mourned by no-one, not even her son Ferumbras.

       "Ignore her - she's a hag," Merry whispered to Frodo as they stood by the sideboard filling their plates. "And Berni's a puffed-up slob."

       Frodo grinned. "Bilbo never liked her. She's such a huge snob."

       They made their way to a table. Merry happened to glance down and spotted Berni's foot sticking out. It looked as though he was hoping Frodo would fall over it. Without faltering, Merry nudged his cousin slightly to one side and then stepped heavily on Berni's outstretched foot. There was a satisfying yelp.

       "What's the matter, lad? Bitten your tongue?" boomed Thain Ferumbras, who had seen everything. "You should eat more slowly." He glared at Berni's mother who was fussing over her son. "Stop fannying around, Lavinia! You'll make a lass of him." He hurrumphed loudly and then muttered, "Lad's a ninny," in what he considered to be an undertone.

       Pippin had watched the action with interest and considerable indignation but he found the Thain's intervention extremely entertaining.

       "What was that about?" Frodo enquired of Merry, settling himself next to Esme.

       "Just Berni being obnoxious as usual," his cousin replied. "He was trying to trip you up. Probably wants you out of action for the match today. You need to watch him, Fro."

       Frodo shrugged. "I've dealt with nastier customers than Berni. I'll keep my eyes open."

       "If he lays a finger on you I'll have him scrubbing out the privvies for a month!" snapped Eglantine, fire flashing in her grey eyes.

       "Now that I would like to see!" crowed Pippin. He was holding his fork rather awkwardly in his right hand, his left arm still in a sling following an accident three weeks before. He had descended a tree faster than he went up it, landing heavily, breaking his collarbone and dislocating his shoulder. It was much better and he wished he could remove the sling but his mother was following the healer's instructions to the letter. Pippin was very disappointed not to be taking part in the match but none of his begging and pleading worked on this occasion..

                                                                          ************

       At last the players were ready, all dressed in their white trousers and shirts, and they took to the field. Saradoc won the toss and elected to bat first, confident that there would be more rain before the afternoon was too old. He and Merimac took to the wicket first and were soon making solid progress until Mac impetuously whacked the ball to Reginard Took at deep fine leg and was given out.

       Frodo marched out to join his cousin. He batted cautiously for a while, until his eyes were adjusted to the light levels and he was seeing the ball well. Then he began to punish the Tuckborough bowling, hitting long sweeping strokes out to the boundary. Saradoc dug in at the other end and between them they added nearly a hundred runs before the umpire signalled lunch.

      Berni ran up and threw the ball as hard as he could. Fortunately the wicket was still rather damp and had little bounce, otherwise it might have hit Frodo in the face. He defended the more vulnerable parts of his anatomy with his bat and glared at the bowler, muttering something in Elvish which clearly was not complimentary. Paladin, a sporting and fair hobbit, was not pleased either, and added his glare to Frodo's. Berni chose to ignore both of them and sent down another spiteful and vicious delivery.

       At that Paladin put his furry foot down and reprimanded Berni clearly and in front of the players and the crowd.

       "That's it, Da, tell him off!" yelled Pippin, incensed.

       "Stop bullying him!" Lavinia shouted at Paladin..

       "The lad's being an unsporting bully!" said the Thain loudly. "Sit down, Lavinia! You're blocking the view."

       Pippin buried his face in his hands to stifle his howls of laughter. Blocking the view! She almost blotted out the sun with her great bosom and huge backside. His mother coughed delicately into her handkerchief and Esme clamped her lips together until she went red in the face. Lavinia subsided like a deflated ball, her chair creaking ominously. Pippin was hoping it would give way at some point during the day, just to add to the entertainment.

       Berni stomped sullenly back and ran up to launch a more ordinary delivery. Frodo clouted it hard and it flew along the ground and over the boundary for an automatic four runs. The Brandybucks cheered and even the Tooks applauded because it would be unsporting not to. Another ball and this time Frodo hit it up in the air and clean over the boundary ropes for a six. Berni lobbed the next one down as hard as he could but this time Frodo was ready and smashed it out through a group of lunging fielders for another four.

       With the Brandybucks on one hundred and sixty-four runs and the sky darkening ominously, Saradoc declared and they all ran for the pavillion as the heavens opened. The Thain opened a huge umbrella and sat puffing on his pipe, chuckling at the view of Lavinia lumbering for shelter.

       Berni lounged moodily on the pavillion steps, trying to attract his mother's attention. Picking her way fastidiously through the puddles, she puffed up and gazed at her son.

       "Yes, my precious lad?"

       "I want my other trousers. These ones are grubby - they have grass stains and dirt from the ball."

       "I'll have them fetched at once, darling!" she trilled.

       The players were having an early cup of tea and some sandwiches while they waited for the ground to dry a little. Pippin darted in and grabbed some food and hurried out again, where he met Myrtle Proudfoot, one of the parlourmaids, on the steps.

       "Hullo Myrtle. What're you doing out here?"

       "Good afternoon Master Pippin. Missus Lavinia asked me to bring Master Berni's clean trousers over. She's just drying off. Where shall I put them?"

       Pippin showed her the changing room and then wandered off outside. He was bored with waiting and ambled behind the pavillion, into the little wood. He liked to watch the birds and squirrels and look for mushrooms which grew in abundance in the shady dampness.

       His reverie was interrupted by a sharp pain in his foot. He glanced down and noticed a large group of soldier ants hurrying to and fro. One had sunk its huge mandibles into his ankle.

       "Ow! You are an angry lot, aren't you?" He knelt down and peered at the scurrying creatures, fascinated. Theye were carrying a big fat grub back to their nest and they moved in a vey organised manner. Pip wished that Merry and Fro were here - Fro would know all about them and Merry would make up funny stories about that they were doing.

       Another sharp pain in his foot and Pippin had an idea. He slipped his arm out of the sling and rummaged in his pocket for the little box he carried, to collect interesting things. With the aid of some sugar, and only a few bites for his troubles, Pip managed to persuade several ants into his box, and then he made his way steathily back to the pavillion. The players were filling up the corners and no-one noticed him as he slipped into the changing-room, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

                                                                         ***********

       From the moment the players took to the field after the rain it was clear that Frodo Baggins had the Tooks in his sights. He had the knack of putting a peculiar spin on the ball, causing it to swing erratically, often at the last minute. Batsmen were so badly deceived that they either missed the ball completely or edged it to an eager fielder. Six of the Tooklands' finest had already departed, most without scoring at all. Reginard and Paladin had managed thirty-five runs before Reggie flailed at a particularly devious delivery, missed and was clean bowled. It was time for Bernigard to take to the wicket.

       Frodo nodded at the new batsman and waited while Berni prodded the pitch in front of him. When he seemed satisfied, Frodo made his short trot round the umpire and lobbed the ball with a quick flick of his wrist. As he did so Berni seemed to jump slightly, missed the ball and it bounced harmlessly through to Merimac behind the wicket. He tossed it back to Frodo and the process began again.

      As Frodo turned to make his run Berni wriggled. Frodo paused and narrowed his eyes.

       "Are you alright, Berni?"

       "I'm fine, thank you," he snapped.

       Frodo shrugged and bowled another unplayable ball. Mac grinned and threw it back. Saradoc moved a couple of his fielders and signalled to Frodo that he was ready.

       It was said that Fosco Baggins had been the first one to invent the googly - which swung the opposite way to the usual spin delivery and was virtually impossible to deal with. Bilbo and Drogo inherited the talent but in Frodo it reached new heights.

       Berni jigged and shimmied just as Frodo was about to bowl the third ball of the over. Sighing, Frodo pulled up and looked hard at the unfortunate Took.

       "Too much starch in your drawers?" he enquired, causing a loud snigger from Merry at second slip.

       "Very funny.....ow!" Berni smacked at his hip and waved his hand at his opponent.

      "Jumping about as though he had ants in his drawers!" the Thain grumbled.

       Frodo's next delivery was positively cruel. It dipped low, swinging first one way and then another. Berni prepared to swing his bat when he let out an anguished shriek, stumbled backwards and sat on the stumps.

       Umpire Willl Whitfoot raised his finger in dismissal but Berni was to busy twisting and wriggling to notice. he slapped frenziedly at his behind and leg, and then fled towards the pavillion, unfastening his trousers as he went. Cheers rang around the ground as his cricket whites pooled around his ankles, revealing his underwear to all and sundry.

       Paladin, who had witnessed all this from the other end of the wicket, was biting his lip. Merry was rolling on the ground in hysterics, Saradoc was doubled over and Frodo was almost helpless. It took some minutes for order to be restored. Grimbold Took strode out to take Berni's place and the match re-started. Two balls later Grimbold was trudging back to the pavillion without adding any runs.

       The procession continued and suddenly it was all over. The Tooks were all out for forty-two runs and Frodo had taken all ten wickets for only twenty-six runs. He was carried shoulder-high by the victorious Brandybucks and paraded round the field.

                                                                         ************

       Bernigard did not put in an appearance during tea. Nor did Lavinia, who had stormed from the field when her son was dismissed.

       "Turns out he really did have ants in his drawers," said Ferumbras. The healer says he has some very nasty bites on his backside. He certainly won't be sitting down to meals for a few days."

       "How in the Shire did they get there?" Saradoc asked, helping himself to another pasty.

       Paladin shrugged. "There's dozens of ants' nests in the woods out there. They come in here after the sugar in the kitchen."

       "Berni always has a pocket full of sweets - perhaps the ants discovered those. The wickets were falling so fast he must have dressed in a hurry and not noticed," said Merry.

       Frodo said nothing but he gave Pippin a long hard look, and received a charmingly innocent smile in return.

Early Blomath 1431 SR

Frodo closed the front door behind him with his foot and hurried through to the kitchen, where he unloaded the last of his packages on to the table. His trip to Bywater had been very pleasant on such a bright, crisp day, and most successful. Hobbits enjoyed haggling but most of them also liked to barter: Sam's potatoes and other vegetables and fruit from the Bag End gardens proved useful currency. A box of assorted vegetables had bought sausages and chops from the butcher; blackberries and apples were exchanged for some of Frodo's usual stationery and Jeb Sandyman had happily handed over a sack of flour in return for a box of tomatoes and some onions. He had also taken the beeswax from the hives for Flora and Dora Goodsmial at the candle stall, and been given a box of the finest candles in exchange - no smelly tallow candles for Bag End.

       Sam, Rose and the children had been away for nearly a month, staying in the Northfarthing with Sam's brothers and other relations. Sam realised, too late, that their visit would mean they were away for the anniversary of Weathertop, but Frodo reassured him that he no longer suffered any ill-effects and shooed them off with instructions to enjoy themselves. He had delighted in his month in charge of the smial, pottering about doing housework and cooking or strolling down to the Green Dragon or Ivy Bush for a meal and some conversation with others. He had a standing invitation to the Cottons' farm and often called in. Ivy Noakes and Sam's sister May were only too happy to provide meals too and he had eaten very well during Rose's absence.

       He went to the kitchen, checked the fire under the copper and suspended two large cloth-wrapped basins over the steaming water. He had made blackberry and apple puddings early in the morning before leaving for Bywater, and now they would need several hours cooking. Having seen to dessert Frodo chopped assorted vegetables while chicken joints browned in a pan, then piled it all into two deep dishes with garlic, herbs and chicken stock, and set it to cook in the oven.

       This was a special day. The family were due to return by early evening. His family. Frodo savoured the word. He had been fortunate during his lifetime to have been absorbed into many families - the chaotic, affectionate Brandybucks who enfolded him following the death of his parents; Bilbo and the folk of Bagshott Row, who took him to their hearts; the far-flung but tightly connected Fellowship and the now the fiercely loving Gamgees.

       In the study he looked at the pile of letters which had arrived during the last few weeks. Who would have believed that so many exalted people would be writing to the family at Bag End, from the King of the Reunited Kingdoms; the Steward of Gondor; the Steward of Arnor; his brother, Lord Halboron, the Captain-General of the Rangers; the King of Rohan; the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen and Ithilien; the Lord of Aglarond; the Peredhil of Imladris; the Haradri ambassador to Gondor; Lord Glorfindel, and even one from Lord Cirdan at the Havens.

       There was also a letter from Captain Erithain with details of his planned visit, together with his sons, at Yule. Frodo was looking forward to hosting Aragorn's cousin. He vaguely remembered the tall, sombre Man at the Coronation, mainly because he looked as haunted as Frodo felt. They learned that Erithain was Halbarad's brother and his eldest son had also died in the same battle. Now he would have a chance to talk with Erithain and offer what help he could. Apparently little Freddie Took had been instrumental in bringing the solitary Ranger out of his sorrow during the visit to Gondor for Aragorn's hundredth birthday, and the King agreed that a visit to the Shire would also be beneficial. The healing power of hobbits, as Aragorn called it.

                                                                         ************

       The smial was full of delicious smells and warm and cosy. The beds had been aired, fires lit in the bedrooms and Frodo was impatiently awaiting the sound of carriage wheels. The purchase of the coach had been somewhat controversial as Sam felt very strongly that folk would think he was 'getting above himself.' Frodo had finally managed to persuade him, with Rose's assistance, that the cart was no longer a suitable means of conveyance, particularly in bad weather. The gardener had reluctantly seen sense although he declared there would be no coachman driving it. He was at least pleased to find that the coach was not overly decorated, although Frodo had designed a crest to adorn the doors on either side - the B and G glyphs with a blooming rose climbing over and through them. The reaction of Rose and the children was so joyful that Sam had abandoned any further opposition. It would certainly mean that his family could travel in comfort in all weathers.

                                                                         ************

       The children had been bouncing up and down excitedly and the coach entered Hobbiton, and they almost came to blows to see who could see the lights of Bag End first. As they started up the Hill they could see the windows glowing brightly through the murky autumn evening, and there was a pool of light over the doorway.

       "Uncle Fro!"

       "Unca Fo!"

       "We missed you!"

       "It was lovely to see Uncle Ham and Uncle Fred but we wish you'd come too."

       They poured out of the coach and raced up the steps, flinging themselves at their beloved uncle while Sam and Rose watched indulgently. It was some minutes before he was able to extricate himself and run down the steps to the lane, when he took little Goldie and helped Rose out. She wrapped her arms round him and kissed his cheek.

       "They're right - we have missed you, you know."

       Sam climbed down and embraced his brother of the heart. He sniffed appreciatively. "Something smells good."

       "Casseroled chicken and baked potatoes, followed by blackberry and apple pudding with cream."

       "My! You have been busy!"  Rose led the children inside while Sam tried to peer into the garden.

       "It's alright, Sam - I haven't killed anything. The vegetable garden is yielding very well. I took some into Bywater this morning and managed to swap it for all sorts of things, flour, candles, stationery."

       "I hope you didn't carry anything too heavy."

       "I took Molly with the little cart. She behaved very well."

       Sam laughed ruefully. "You're the only person she'd do that for. If I tried hitching that one to a cart I'd have a kick on the shin for my pains!"

       They took the coach up to the top of the lane and unhitched the ponies. With the coach under cover, they rubbed the ponies down and settled them back in their stable, where Molly and Limlight were delighted to see them again.

       Leaving the ponies to their supper the two hobbits hurried back to Bag End and their own. Rose had removed her bonnet and changed into a comfortable old dress and the children were in their nightclothes. It only took a few minutes to dish up and soon they were all sitting round the table, all busy eating to start with but then they began to tell Frodo all about their visit to the Nothrfarthing and Tighfield. The children were full of tales about their cousins and the adventures they had, and it was late before they were ready for bed. As they reluctantly departed Ellie ran back to hug Frodo once more.

       "What Da says is true - there's no place like home!"

Yule 1436 SR

The stairs inside the Tower of Avallonë were made for Elves and were much too high and steep for an elderly hobbit. Bilbo had swallowed his pride and accepted the offer of aid, and now he rode on the shoulders of his old friend as they ascended. He remembered riding thus with old Isengar in the fields round Tuckborough, and chuckled.

        "My ears are not for steering, Bilbo Baggins!" the Maia groused.

        Bilbo smirked. "Really, Gandalf? And here's me thinking they're just perfect for steering," he said innocently.

        Giggles drifted up from the couple climbing behind them. The Lady Celebrian and her husband were often amused by the relationship between the hobbit and Olorin in his favourite incarnation as Gandalf.

        "Hobbits!" Gandalf muttered. "Scamps, the whole lot of them!"

       The Tower was of smooth white marble, veined with pale pink transluscent as mother of pearl. It glowed warmly in the light of Arien's chariot but under the light of moon and stars it was piercing in its cold beauty. The great staircase was of the same marble, with a balustrde of finely wrought metal flowers and ears of wheat which rustled with each small vibrarion. At the top was a circular room with windows of coloured glass which made exquisite patterns on the floor. They told the story of the Elven kindreds from their awakening in Cuiviénen, their journey to the sea and the crossing to the West. Here were Ingwe, Finwe, Olwe and Elwe, with Elwe's meeting with Melian clearly depicted. She looked very much like Arwen, and Bilbo thought how bitter-sweet this must be for Elrond and his wife to see their daughter from afar, knowing they would not meet again. At least he knew he would meet his dear lad one day.

       He was aware that being allowed to peep at Middle-earth was a very special honour and a privilege. Gandalf had not told him such a thing was possible for a long time, afraid that the sight of Frodo ill and fading would distress the old hobbit too much. Only when the lad's recovery was assured was he allowed to see the new-found joy at Bag End, which delighted him more than anything else in his long life.

       The Lady Galadriel waited to greet them when they finally arrived in the chamber at the top of the tower. She was not alone: a golden haired male Elf stood beside her, clearly a relation and one of the most noble of the Eldar.

       "Bilbo Baggins at your service, and your family's, my lord." The old hobbit bowed as soon as Gandalf set him on his feet.

       "Greetings, Master Baggins. It has long been my wish to meet you."

       "Bilbo, may I present my brother, Finrod." Galadriel smiled fondly at her brother.

       "Then I am even more conscious of the honour of meeting you, my lord Finrod. Your deeds are still famous in Middle-earth and I heard much of you from Lord Glorfindel during my time in Rivendell."

       "I have been wary of gazing at Middle-earth - afraid of how changed it must be. Beleriand lies beneath the waves and the world itself is not as it once was. So much has changed for the worse I fear. Yet Morgoth and Sauron are both gone, and that can only be a good thing. I therefore asked my sister and my good friend Olorin if it might be possible to have a look at these most noble of Earendil's descendants on the other side of the Sundering Sea. I am also curious to see this kinsman of yours and his friend, who braved such horrors to free Middle-earth of the most powerful of Morgoth's servants."

       "Finest hobbit in the Shire - I always said so, didn't I, Gandalf?"

       "You did indeed, old friend." The Maia raised his hand and held it over the great glass globe which sat atop a marble pillar. Light grew inside the palantir and then the view cleared to show the wide ocean with leaping dolphins, breaching whales and soaring sea birds. All those present gazed in wonder and some awe at the marvels in Lord Ulmo's realm.

       The Grey Havens, the Tower Hills and the gentle rolling slopes of Tuckborough were passed before the view paused at the Party Field below Bag End.

       "Not at Great Smials then." Bilbo grunted. "Now where's that lad of mine?"

                                                                             ************

       The Party Field was full of activity. The Yule Bonfire had consumed the lists of troubles and was warming the assembled hobbits as they dined. Mr and Mrs Cotton, both getting on in years, were content to watch their children serving food. Farmer Cotton smiled his thanks as Jolly filled his mug with more mulled ale. Tully Noakes stood watching the flames, tankard in one hand, his other arm around his wife. Ivy shifted the weight of the faunt balanced on her hip, then lowered the impatient child to the ground, where he ran to join his half-sister Violet. Little Denny had been a surprise addition to the family, prompting some ribald comments and jokes about 'life in the old dog yet' at Bywater's inns. Tully merely accepted the congratulations and brushed off comments about his age with the retort "...doesn't matter if there's snow on the roof, so long as there's a fire in the grate!"

       Of the Bag End family there was no sign.

       The view changed again. Bilbo supposed the family must be at Brandy Hall for Yule but the palantir directed their gaze north, not east. Here was snow and pine trees, and a vast lake, deep and cold, glittering under the light of moon and stars. To the west stood a great sweep of hills. On its northern shore was a dark cluster of tall pines, and on the southern shore stood a great fairytale palace with towers and turrets. Guards watched from its outer walls and in the courtyard more men warmed themselves round glowing braziers. In an area near the extensive gardens one part of the palace looked very different - low, one-storeyed buildings with round doors and windows looking out onto a secluded garden with a bird table and bird bath.

       "Estel has re-built Annúminas," murmured Elrond. "How wonderful!"

       "And he's added a wing for hobbits," chuckled Bilbo. "Delightful!"

      Gandalf smiled. "If I know Aragorn he will have made sure there is a hobbit kitchen too!"

                                                                             ************

       The view shifted back in time a little, to show the same courtyard in daylight, earlier in the afternoon. Two adult hobbits were engaged in a snowball fight with three Elves while an Elf, a Dwarf and another hobbit watched indulgently, clearly shouting encouragement and laughing. Bilbo sighed happily as he reassured himself of his lad's health and happiness; Frodo was preparing ammunition for his cousins to hurl at the Twins and Glorfindel and although he was bundled up against the cold he was obviously enjoying himself. Finrod shook his head and laughed at the sight of the golden-haired balrog-slayer under attack from a couple of impudent hobbits.

       Frodo pushed his scarf back. Moments later a sturdy hobbit tapped on the window and gestured to him to wrap up again. Gandalf smiled.

       "I see Sam is as solicitous as ever."

       Sam was holding a mixing bowl and was plainly busy in the kitchen of the hobbits' quarters. He grinned when Frodo made a face. A little later he opened the window and handed out steaming mugs of hot chocolate to all the combatants. They were soon joined by various children of Men and hobbits, who ran off to build snow figures and hold their own snowballing contest.

       In the hobbit nursery Rose, Estella and Diamond nursed the latest additions to their families - Bilbo, Simbelmynë and Niphredil - while three young hobbit nurserymaids bustled about, undressing and bathing the toddlers and faunts and preparing them for bed. One of the lasses was Lily Sandyman, who was transformed from the timid lass she had been during her father's lifetime. She had formed fast friendships with the lasses from Brandy Hall and Great Smials and was blossoming in confidence.

       The little ones assembled to bid their mothers 'good-night' before having a light supper and a story with their nurses. Athelas Took, Frodoric Brandybuck, Gamgee twins Hamfast and Daisy and little Primrose were all rosy-cheeked and growing fast.

       In the King's great sitting-room there was much activity. Tarondor, Steward of Arnor and Glorfindel were making a very large quantity of punch in a bowl big enough to bathe a hobbit child. The silver bowl with a dozen cups hanging round the rim and a ladle with a pearl swan's-head handle was a gift from King Thranduil and was very useful on such occasions.

       "A little more orange juice I think," Glorfindel murmured. "And just a touch more cinnamon."

       Tarondor squeezed another orange and stirred the mixture while Glorfindel went to the fire and heated the poker before plunging it into the mixture, which bubbled and seethed.

       Unaware of those watching from the other side of the Sundering Sea, the lady Miriel was busy supervising Legolas and the Twins as they suspended a great rope of ivy and holly along one wall. Gimli was busy at one of the great hearths, turning potatoes and chestnuts in the embers beneath the grate. Two huge Yule logs blazed in the hearths, filling the room with the smells of juniper, pine and applewood.

       Sam pattered in with a basket full of his herb and onion bread, to go with the soup. Merry and Pippin followed, carrying the children's plain fruit punch and a dish of pasties. Rose, Diamond and Estella brought sausages wrapped in bacon (known in the Shire as pigs in blankets), roast chicken and a boiled ham.

       On the other side of the Sea, Celebrian gasped as the children tumbled in - Eldarion, fourteen years old, tall and handsome, accompanied by his cousin and friend Halbarad, son to Tarondor and Miriel. Their friendship looked to be as strong as that between Aragorn and the other Halbarad. Young Frodo Gamgee was with them, all three giggling at some lad's jest. The boys were followed by Gilraen and Melian, chattering away with Elanor and her sister Rosie. Merry-lad, Pip-lad and Goldilocks sauntered in seconds later,squabbling amicably with Theo Brandybuck and Fari Took. There were no distinctions of rank between the children of King and hobbits, and sturdy Frodo-lad had been known to wrestle Eldarion to the floor.

       When Arwen entered it was Finrod's turn to gasp. "Ai! Luthien!" he murmured. Elrond smiled, a little sadly.

       "Aye, so many have said. She has Luthien's beauty and shares her fate. I hope she is happy in her choice."

       "She is," Celebrian whispered, laughing through her tears. She had seen the look on her daughter's face when she espied Aragorn. It was a look full of such love and joy that her mother understood why Arwen had made her choice.

       Aragorn came into the room with his hand behind his back, an an expression on his face not unlike a naughty schoolboy. Elrond laughed out loud - the High King looked much as he had done when scolded for some childhood misdemeanour. He called to his wife, and as Arwen approached, he brandished a large sprig of mistletoe over her head and claimed a long kiss.

       The three hobbit lasses grinned. "You'll have to remove all the berries after that!" Rose observed.

       "Why don't we try that?" Pippin enquired, grabbing Diamond and guiding her beneath the huge ball of mistletoe which hung from the central chandelier. Not to be outdone, Merry and Sam seized their wives and did the same.

       Frodo appeared in the doorway, holding an enormous dish of spiced mushrooms. The recipe included tomatoes, onions, garlic, a little chilli or mustard, herbs and concentrated beef stock. Two Wizards had pronounced them a dish fit for Kings, and Frodo had promised Aragorn that he would prepare the dish for Yule.

       The large table was now groaning with food and the sideboard held several bowls of trifle, a fruit salad, a chocolate cake and jugs of fresh cream. Bilbo's stomach rumbled just looking at it all.

       Celebrian pointed at the children and the blissful expression on Arwen's face. "There is her immortality, in her children and the future of a great dynasty. I grieve that I shall not see her again but look at her! Can you doubt she made the right choice?" She smiled tremulously at Elrond. "She would never have known all this had she come here. He is her destiny and her abiding joy."

       Elrond nodded reluctantly. He knew in his heart that his wife was right. It would have been selfish to have taken her away, and he doubted she would have found any of her own kind to bring her such fulfillment.

       "I don't know about anyone else but I can think of nothing but food," said Finrod. Galadriel and Gandalf laughed.

       "Hobbits have that effect! But look! Now you can see Frodo and Sam clearly."

       Finrod stared, astonished. Sam had beckoned Frodo to the window and they stood together, watching the snow slowly blanketing the world. The two small figures radiated light, a light which had been hidden in the Shire for many years, defeated the Darkness and now shone for all to see.

       "It's so beautiful, Sam."

       "Another of Nature's marvels, m'dear. And the plants and seeds will sleep under it till Spring, safe and sound."

       "I'm glad the gardeners leave the berries and seed heads for the birds. Poor little things, they must be so cold. I hope young Will and Hobson are looking after the birds at home and making sure they have fresh water."

       "I'm sure they are. Good responsible lads, both of 'em."

       The lights of silver and gold flared as they smiled at each other before making their way to the table.

                                                                             ************

       The images faded and the palantir becam a sphere of glass once more. Bilbo sighed.

       "All that food. I could eat a horse now."

       "I shall not tell Shadowfax that you said that!" Gandalf said severely, though his eyes twinkled.

       Celebrian embraced her mother and uncle. "You will be pleased to know that we have arranged a small feast this evening and we will be serving some of the hobbits' favourite food, including those mushrooms. Our cooks learned much, some in Imladris from Bilbo and the other hobbits and others who have been taking lessons from Bilbo here."

       "That sounds wonderful," said Finrod.. "Now I know why Glorfindel has remained - he always did enjoy his food."

       "He will need all his warrior skills to obtain much with all those hobbits around!" Gandalf said, and the laughter of the Lady Galadriel drifted up as she descended the staircase.

Afterlithe 1432 SR

The morning was already too warm to wear a waistcoat, and Sam wandered out into the garden in his shirtsleeves, to water the more delicate plants before the sun could dry them out. The perfume of nicotiana, dianthus and night-scented stocks filled the air, combining with the delightful smell of damp earth, and Sam whistled cheerfully as he pottered about, dead-heading petunias and soaking the hanging-baskets and tubs. The water splashing on his feet was very pleasant.

       Frodo wandered out to join him, carrying a tray of tea and some buttered teacakes, to stave off the hunger pangs while Rose dressed and fed the younger children. Rufus sprawled on the path and Sooty frolicked in a pile of grass cuttings, both enjoying the comparative cool before the sun rose too high.

       Sam reached for another teacake and surveyed the fields below. The view never failed to please him, the sight of wheat and barley turning golden, hay almost ready for harvest, fruit growing on the trees, bright flowers filling the meadows and animals grazing contentedly.

       "More tea, Sam?" Frodo poured another cup and passed it to his friend, and they stood side by side in companionable silence.

       Frodo was gradually aware that another had entered the garden, although there was no sound to be heard. It was more a sensation, a presence. He turned and looked at the lawn, gripping Sam's wrist to alert him to whatever was there. At first he could see nothing, but light seemed to be filling the garden, full of beauty. Sam gave a little gasp as the light began to coalesce.

      She was tall, taller than any Elf, and beautiful beyond the dream of any Mortal or Immortal in Middle-earth. Her hair was the colour of polished chestnuts, tumbling over her shoulders. Her eyes were compelling, bright and full of tenderness. Frodo thought they were a strange mixture of grey, green and gold, but he had the impression that they might change and be any colour the lady desired. Her gown furled like petals about her slender form, green and yellow, with a belt of golden flowers encircling her waist. Upon her head she wore a crown of flowers, berries and ears of wheat, and as she danced lightly across the grass small white flowers sprang up behind her. She raised her arms to greet the light of Laurelin the Golden as the sun's rays reached the garden.

       "My Lady!" Both hobbits bowed low. Both cats also bowed their heads in respect and awe.

       My children, best beloved echoed in their minds, and both felt a wave of love and joy, filling them and overflowing until it seemed to fill the Shire. When they looked up again she was gone, leaving only an exquisite fragrance and the white blooms of niphredil nodding gently in the grass.

       Thus it was that the Ringbearers were granted a vision of the Lady Yavanna Kementari, Queen of the Earth.

       "I am never cutting that grass," Sam breathed. "It can grow ten feet high, I don't care." He touched one of the tiny flowers with one finger, expecting it to wilt and die; it did not. If anything it seemed to grow a little and put forth another flower nearby.

       Sam never did have to cut that patch of grass, which remained as neat as though it were trimmed with scissors twice a week, and the niphredil flourished, a reminder of the day a Valar Queen danced to greet the light of Anar in the gardens of Bag End.

Wedmath 1432 SR

       "Frodo Baggins, you are a dolt and a ninnyhammer!"

       Sam winced; he disliked hearing Frodo take names to himself. He was worried by his Master's behaviour over the last few days - shutting himself in the study, rummaging through books, poring over maps and going through his original notes for the Red Book. These things caused a chill to steal into the heart of the normally contented hobbit - was Frodo slipping back into the old ways? Had their astonishing vision of the Lady Yavanna re-awakened Frodo's longing for the West?

      Bracing himself, Sam steadied the laden tray and opened the study door.  "Frodo? Is something wrong? I don't like to hear you calling yourself such things."

       "I'm fine, Sam, really." He absently helped himself to a jam tart, his attention concentrated upon a large map of Eriador.

       "You're not.......planning to ........leave, are you?" Stomach churning, Sam finally voiced the fear which had begun to gnaw at his heart.

       Frodo looked up in genuine astonishment, then leapt up and flung both arms round his friend. "Never!" he said fiercely. "I'm so sorry, Sam - I've been so selfish. I didn't realise how worried you were. I am not leaving Middle-earth, the Shire or Bag End - never! You don't get rid of me that easily."

       "Very glad to hear it," said Sam with a shaky laugh, returning the hug. "So what is going on?"

       Frodo gave an impish grin. "Let's just say I'm hoping to test a theory. I'm going on a very short hiking trip, just as far as the Northfarthing. I know you can't leave Rose at the moment but I've asked Merry and Pip to come along."

       Sam chuckled. "It'll certainly do them good to do some walking for a change. I suppose you're not going to tell me why you're off to the Northfarthing."

       "Not yet, my dear Sam. I'd rather not say anything until I know if my idea is correct or just the deranged wanderings of a hobbit with too much time on his hands and too much imagimation. You know how vain I am - don't want to show myself up as a complete ass!"

       "You know I'll never think of you as an ass. But if you're anywhere near Tighfield don't forget to call in and see Ham and Fred. They'd love to see you."

       "We may at that." Frodo looked at the plate. "Good grief! I seem to have demolished all the jam tarts! I shall be the one needing the exercise at this rate!"

                                                                         ************

       The two tall hobbits arrived on the doorstep of Bag End a few days later, whistling cheerfully (and, in Merry's case at least, not terribly tunefully). Sam hastened to open the door, the children racing round from the garden and leaping all over the visitors.

       "So what's going on, Sam? Frodo was very mysterious in his letter." Merry swung his namesake up on to his shoulders and walked down the hall.

       "Ah! I really don't know. He won't tell me either. I was that worried - thought he might be suffering the sea-longing again but he seems well and happy."

       "I keep telling Sam not to fuss," said Rose calmly. She was making pies, her face rather pink from the heat of the oven. "Frodo is fine and he won't ever leave us now." She dusted the flour from her hands and closed the oven door firmly. "How are you both?"

       "We're very well, Rose." Merry kissed her. "You look very well and blooming."

       "Flattery will get you a long way, Merry! I look like an oliphaunt, as you can see - and they're not due till after Yule." She glanced round to make sure the children were out of earshot. "Carrying two at once is hard work and much more tiring. I keep falling asleep whenever I sit down for a few minutes!"

       "That will do no harm - it will make sure you rest." Pip embraced her.

       "You're here in good time. We weren't expecting you for another couple of days."

       "Thought we'd help out with the wheat harvest at your da's farm - Frodo said it should be going ahead tomorrow, and the weather seems set fair."

       "Well da certainly won't say no to the help. I won't be able to do it this year, which is a shame." Rose sounded wistful, but then she laughed and looked down at her increasing waistline. "At least I have the perfect excuse!"

       "Where is Fro?" Merry enquired, glancing round.

       "I made an extra raspberry tart this morning so he kindly took it down to the Row when he went to see Ivy. She's due in a month or so and seems to be enjoying eating for two."

       Sam poured tea for everyone. "At least she's had the chance to find out how a proper husband behaves when his wife is expecting - she cannot believe how attentive and caring Tully is. He shifted for himself for so long after his first wife died so he's never minded turning his hand to housework and cooking. He dotes on Ivy and is so thrilled to be a father again. Won't let her do anything, she says."

       "I'll wager there's been some comment in the Ivy Bush about Tully's .......er....capabilities!"

       Sam laughed. "Yes, there has! Not that he seems to care - just smiles when they say he's old and grey, and said it didn't matter about snow on the roof if there's a good fire in the hearth!"

       They were still laughing when Frodo arrived. He greeted his cousins delightedly but refused to satisfy their curiosity about the hiking trip and they talked about the children, their latest letters from Aragorn, and Saradoc's health, which was causing Merry some concern. The rest of the day passed in pleasant conversation and good food and they opted for an early night in order to be ready for the harvest.

                                                                         ************

       Harvesting was fun if the weather was fine, and it was. While most of the menfolk cut the wheat, Frodo, Mrs Cotton and Marigold gathered it into sheaves and piled them into stooks, where they could dry thoroughly before being taken to the Grange and placed on a thick layer of spiky gorse, which deterred rats and mice. By early evening the harvesting was finished, with one small section of wheat left standing. Old superstition said that the spirit of the corn retreated as the grain was cut, until it had nowhere else to go. Cutting these last few stalks was therefore quite dangerous and usually attemped blindfolded by whoever had been nominated. Frodo had been duly pushed forward by his cousins and Rose, and now he stood patiently while Rose tied a handkerchief behind his head and Merry checked to make sure he could see nothing. The scythe was put into his hands, he was spun round several times and then directed by shouted instructions. After a couple of attempts which mostly endangered Pippin's ankles, he swiped the blade and was cheered as the stalks fell. Frodo gathered them quickly and presented them with a gallant bow to Mrs Cotton, who would make the little bunch into a poppet or doll to bring good luck to the farm for the next year.

       A great harvest supper followed and it was late when they made their way back to Bag End, the children dozing in the carriage with Rose, and Frodo and his cousins walking alongside.

                                                                         ************

       The hiking trip began after elevenses and Frodo led Merry and Pip up the lane past the stables on their left and out towards Overhill. They strode along at a comfortable pace, singing some of Bilbo's old walking songs and chatting happily. Merry and Pippin began to wonder where their cousin found so much energy. Naturally they were delighted that he was so fit but they would have been glad of a slower pace.

       "Really Frodo, anyone would think this was a walking race! Can't we slow down?" said Pip plaintively.

       Frodo turned, his eyes twinkling. "You know your trouble, Pip? You've become soft. We'll have to send you to Gondor for some military training."

       "Cheek! Merry - Fro's being bossy!"

       "I heard. Get a move on, Pip. We need to find a place to camp."

       Frodo relented. "Alright you two. We'll set up camp over there." He nodded towards a sheltered spot. "I brought some ale..... ," he added in a sing-song voice.

       "You did? Well why didn't you say so?. Pip and I will look for firewood and then we'll help with the cooking." Merry and Pip set down their packs and hurried off to find kindling. Frodo's laughter followed them.

       "It's amazing what the word 'ale' will achieve!

       Frodo made a circle of stones and set the fire within it. He cooked the potatoes by placing them within the stones and set the pan over the fire. Soon they were eating bacon, sausages, mushrooms and potatoes and drinking ale as the moon rose over the Shire. When their meal was over the hobbits lit their pipes and leaned back in contenment. They told stories and reminisced until they were ready to turn in, when Merry and Pip placed their bedrolls either side of Frodo. He lay awake for some time, watching the progress of Earendil and listening to the soft sound of his cousins' breathing, and wondering is his hunch was correct.

                                                                        ************

       None of the hobbits had ever travelled to the far north of the Shire, which was the least inhabited part of their land. They had passed the last village and farms several miles back and Merry looked around with great interest at the woods and ancient hedgerows.

       "That hedge must be at least a thousand years old - look at that!"

       "It's so peaceful here. Not even the noises of farm animals, just wild animals and birds."

        Merry looked hard at Frodo. "And you've brought us here because...................?" He raised his eyebrows.

       Frodo chuckled. "You don't catch me out that easily, Merry! All in good time, all in good time."

       Merry harrumphed, but did not pursue the matter. He and Pip gathered firewood and Frodo sorted the food. Pip returned in triumph, having found some fine penny bun mushrooms in a little patch of damp woodland, and the clearing was soon filled with the wonderful aromas of food.

      Once supper had been consumed, the hobbits lit their pipes and settled back. Pip sang a few songs, Frodo recited one of Bilbo's poems, and Merry also entertained with some recitations from the inns of Buckland, which made Frodo and Pip laugh so much they had to stop singing for a while. Then Frodo turned to Pip.

       "I'd like to hear the lament for the Entwives. I think I've only heard it once."

       "It's rather sad, Fro. Wouldn't you rather hear something jolly?"

       "No, I really want to hear it. I wasn't all that aware when you sang it in Gondor after Aragorn's coronation."

       Pip began to sing, his voice perfectly suited to the lament's wistful quality. In the minor key, it spoke of loss in a restrained yet heartfelt way which brought tears to the eyes, and Pip managed to make the Ents' words gruff and resonant while those of the Entwives were softer, full of eagerness for their adventure, tinged with sorrow that the Ents would not go with them.

       As Pip finished the song they heard a sob near the hedge. Frodo rose and bowed while his cousins sat stupefied, Merry dropping his pipe in his lap and yelping as a shower of sparks threatened to set light to his trousers.

       "Ladies! Come forward and welcome. I am Frodo Baggins, at your service."

       Slowly they came from the shadow of the hedge to stand before the hobbits, several slender twiggy figures, undoubtedly feminine, with soft mossy green skin and large gold-green eyes which were filled with tears.

       "Where did you learn that song?" one whispered. "None know it but Ents and they are all gone."

       "Nay, lady, they live. My cousins here spent some time in Fangorn Forest with its master, whom they knew as Treebeard, as well as Quickbeam and many others.

       Merry and Pip had managed to scramble to their feet and bow. "It is true - we were saved from Orcs by Treebeard and spent several days with him."

       More Entwives appeared from within the hedgeline, exclaiming in astonishment at what they were being told.

       Slowly, and with many interruptions (the Entwives were much more hasty and inquisitive than their menfolk), the story of the meeting with Treebeard was told. The hobbits also explained about Saruman and the Ring War.

       "We felt the darkness growing day by day," said the one who had introduced herself as Rowan. "Like a storm which builds until nothing can stop it. We waited, all the animals and woodland creatures held their breath. We saw a great darkness in the East, rising over the land as though it would devour all, before a fresh soft wind blew it to nothing."

       "Yes, that is what happened as the Dark Tower fell." Pip turned to Frodo and introduced him properly as the Ringbearer, much to Frodo's embarrassment. The Entwives regarded him curiously and with growing awe. Frodo tried to play down his part, praising Sam and Aragorn and Gandalf, but his cousins were having none of it.

       "And there is a King again - Aragorn, now King Elessar, descended from Luthien and from the Lady Melian. His Queen is Arwen Undomiel, daughter of Elrond of Rivendell," Pip said proudly, to another clamour from the Entwives.

       "A King! Just think of it. Does he like trees?"

       "Master Elrond still dwells in Middle-earth?" asked one particularly graceful Entwife.

       "Alas no. He and the Lady of the Golden Wood have gone to Elvenhome. His sons remain here, and Lord Glorfindel, as well as King Thranduil of the Greenwood and Lord Celeborn."

       Merry chuckled. "Aragorn loves trees - he was brought up among Elves and has an Elven appreciation of nature."

       They talked for several hours, answering the many questions, while Frodo managed to explain at least two Ages of history without faltering. In turn, the Entwives explained how they had doubled back, avoiding the tides of war sweeping over the Brown Lands, and travelling over the Misty Mountains to seek a place where they might tend their gardens. At last, Rowan silenced her sisters.

       "We may not need to sleep, but these dear hobbits do. We shall talk again tomorrow." She led them back into the hedge and they vanished, silent as ghosts.

       Snuggled in their blankets, the cousins both turned to Frodo.

       "Come on Fro," said Pip. " You're not going to sleep until you tell us."

       "Tell you what?" he murmured innocently.

       "You were expecting them to be there. You weren't a bit surprised when they appeared. Admit it? Why and how? How did you know they would be there?"

       "I didn't know - I hoped. As for why.......I was re-reading the Red Book. Remember what Treebeard said about the Entwives? He said they loved gardens and cultivated land. And as I read that I thought 'they would love the Shire', and suddenly I began to wonder. Sam's cousin swore he saw a walking tree in the Northfarthing. we've all assumed he must have seen an Ent but what if it was an Entwife? Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight."

       "You know it is really irritating having a genius as a cousin," Pip muttered, but he was grinning. "You can stop smirking now, Fro. I can't wait to let Strider know about this!" He and Merry turned towards their cousin, guarding him on both sides. The soft sounds of the night lulled them gently into sleep and they were unaware of the figures who emerged again and watched over them until daylight.