Chapter Eighteen: Returning Home

"Three doses a day of the trillus, and one teaspoon of the pain reliever as needed, correct?" Bilbo went over Dr. Bolger’s instructions again in the front doorway of the Broadbelts’ home.

The doctor nodded. "Yes, and if his wounds open up again, be sure to keep them bandaged and put some salve on them." Looking outside, the two hobbits watched as Merry held Frodo down on the grass while Daisy tickled him mercilessly. Sam knelt on the ground a short distance away, sorting through their packs.

"He seems to have recovered quite well," Bilbo commented, watching Frodo squirm free of Merry and Daisy’s grasp and run a safe distance away from them. His clear, joyful laugh floated down to them and Bilbo smiled.

"Yes, he seems to have recovered," Dr. Bolger mused, almost to himself. He turned to Bilbo. "But do not forget," he added, "it has only been little over a week since he has been out of bed. He must not overtax himself." Bilbo nodded, and turned again to watch his nephew, who was running around the large oak tree in the yard, trying to avoid Merry and Daisy. The two had split up, each taking one side of the tree, and Frodo was trapped.

"Frodo!" Bilbo called. "Come over here a moment."

Frodo spoke quickly with Merry and came over to where Bilbo and Dr. Bolger were standing. "Yes, Uncle?" he asked cheerfully, slightly out of breath.

"How are you feeling?" Bilbo asked. "The truth now, young hobbit," he added, a smile taking the sternness out of his words.

Frodo laughed. "I’m fine, Uncle," he said. "I feel perfectly fine." Seeing Bilbo’s doubtful look, he added seriously, "Honestly. I’m a bit tired, but I don’t feel ill at all."

Nevertheless, Bilbo felt his forehead for any signs of fever. It was slightly warm, but it could have simply been from his exertions. "All right, dear boy, I believe you," he said after a moment. "But I’d prefer it if you didn’t do any more running for a while."

Frodo sighed, but nodded obediently. "Yes, Uncle," he said. "I won’t."

Dr. Bolger studied his young patient carefully. He was still pale, but his cheeks were now a healthy rosy color, and his eyes were bright and sparkling. He seemed to have recovered almost completely, but to the doctor’s trained eye, he knew that Frodo was not much more than half-well yet. He smiled as he watched Frodo laugh at something Bilbo said; it always warmed his heart to see his patients happy and recovering.

Merry called to Frodo and before his nephew left, Bilbo gave him a last word of caution and kissed the top of his head before letting him go. Watching as Frodo, Sam and Merry began to help Daisy make some chains with the little girl’s name-flower, Bilbo sighed happily. It was so good to see Frodo healthy and smiling again. And a relief, as well. There had been times in the last two weeks when the old hobbit had despaired of Frodo ever recovering.

Just then, the door opened behind them and Milo came out, deep in a discussion with Ferdirand. Behind them, Lila and Peony followed, also talking cheerfully with each other. Over the past week since the Burrowses had come to see Frodo, Peony and Lila had formed a very strong bond of friendship. Peony was constantly helping Lila around the house, making the meals or doing the laundry, and so making more time for them to have some time alone to chat.

Milo and Ferdirand had become friends as well, and Milo was teaching Ferdirand the finer art of carving; in turn, Ferdirand was teaching him how to plant, harvest and plow. Both were quick learners and willing to be both teacher and student.

"Hullo, Bilbo," Milo greeted his cousin cheerfully. "We’re off to the fields. Ferdirand is going to teach me how to harvest properly."

With a wave, he and Ferdirand walked off toward the fields, stopping to greet the young hobbits making daisy chains. Lila and Peony were still chatting merrily, but Peony gave Bilbo a quick, bright smile of greeting. Bilbo smiled in return, and looking back at the young hobbits in the yard, he noticed with alarm that Frodo was coughing again.

Sam was patting his back, and the fit did not last long, but glancing at Dr. Bolger, Bilbo saw that he was concerned. "That cough is still lingering about," he commented. Bilbo nodded, but did not speak. He watched Frodo closely, but the lad seemed perfectly fine now, and was talking and laughing with the others. "The trillus will help," Dr. Bolger continued. "But it may take up to a month for the cough to leave completely."

Bilbo sighed. "The poor boy," he said sadly. "It seems that he never has the chance to be as happy as a lad his age should be."

Dr. Bolger looked at him questioningly and took this opportunity to learn a bit more about his patient. "How do you mean?"

Bilbo sighed again and turned to look at him. "It’s been 15 years since his parents died, but the pain of their deaths has stayed with him," he paused a moment. "Several years after their deaths, when he was about twenty, he fell into the Brandywine while he and Merry were catching frogs. He nearly drowned." Bilbo shuddered at the memory. "Not only did he catch a chill and then pneumonia, but it brought back memories of his poor parents and he was melancholy for months, poor boy." Dr. Bolger was very quick-witted, and he was beginning to piece together the puzzle. Frodo’s parents must have drowned in the Brandywine. He shuddered. That would be enough to make anyone depressed.

"Just a few years after that," Bilbo continued, not really talking to Dr. Bolger anymore; reliving the memories to himself. "The poor lad fell out of a tree—he loves to climb—and broke his arm. I thought he had finally been allowed to be at peace, as it has been three years since anything dire had happened to him. But now, the bite, the poison and the after-effects. Will the dear lad ever find peace?"

Dr. Bolger was silent a few moments, but then he spoke slowly and softly. "The boy has indeed had a hard life. But he has borne it well. To survive such a strong injection of Fire Snake venom alone speaks highly of his inner strength. Merry has told me of his illness in Brandy Hall, and it seems that he gave everyone a surprise by pulling through that as well. His will to live is very strong." He placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. "And you are one reason, I think. He loves you, Bilbo, as a father. And it is that love that gives him such strength."

Looking over at the object of their discussion, Dr. Bolger watched with a smile as Frodo gently helped Sam finish his daisy chain, and then showed Merry how to thread the flowers together. "He seems also to be very fond of young Samwise, and Merry, as well."

Bilbo nodded and smiled fondly at his nephew. "He’s like an older brother to them, as well as to little Pippin Took."

Dr. Bolger patted his shoulder. "He is a fine lad, Bilbo. You’ve raised him well." With another gentle smile, he turned and went back inside to pack, leaving Bilbo to think on his words. Tears shown in the old hobbit’s soft grey eyes, and he knew the truth of the doctor’s words. Frodo was a sweet, gentle, loving boy. A fine lad, indeed.

***

"Don’t worry, Daisy, I promise we’ll come to visit you soon." Merry brushed away a tear that was sliding down his cheek and gently wiped the tears off Daisy’s small face. The little lass was clinging to him, tears flowing in torrents down her cheeks and her small shoulders shaking with sobs. Merry’s heart clenched in sorrow and guilt. He was leaving her once more, after only little over two weeks with her, and he probably would not have the opportunity to visit her until he was in Hobbiton again.

He sighed, and let Daisy cry until she had not a tear left. Then, he pulled her into a tight hug, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. "I promise, I will see you as soon as I can," he whispered. "And if not me, then I’m sure Frodo will visit you."

With a sniffle, Daisy reached up with one small, chubby hand and scrubbed at her eyes. "You come visit for Daisy’s birthday?" she asked hopefully.

Merry smiled. "I’ll try," he assured her. "But when is your birthday?"

Daisy thought a moment, and then trotted over to her mother, who was saying farewell to Frodo, and waited patiently through their conversation.

"I do feel dreadful, though, leaving when I promised that I’d help you with the harvest," Frodo was saying apologetically. "Especially after all you’ve done."

Lila shook her head. "Don’t you be feeling guilty, Frodo dear," she said. "’Twasn’t anything you could have done about it. We’ll do just fine with the harvestin', I’ve no doubt." She gave him a maternal kiss on the forehead. "But I will miss you. You must come back soon and visit."

Frodo nodded with a smile. "I will."

At last, Lila turned to Daisy. "Yes, dear?"

The child’s rosy-cheeked face was serious. "Mama? When’s Daisy’s birthday?"

Lila bent down so that she was eye-level with her daughter. "Daisy’s birthday is on the first day of Yule," she said, giving Daisy’s tiny button nose a quick tap. "She’s a special girl, isn’t she?"

"And so big," Frodo added, kneeling beside them. "How old will she be on her birthday?" he asked Lila with a teasing smile. "Surely not more than two."

Lila did not have the chance to reply, for Daisy folded her arms indignantly. "Daisy’s not gonna be two," she said. "Daisy’s gonna be—" She counted on her fingers, and then held up all ten of them. "This many!"

Frodo laughed. "That many?" he said, fondly ruffling her hair. "My, but you are big!"

Lila smiled lovingly at her daughter. "All right now, big girl," she said, "say good-bye to Frodo."

Daisy’s sunny face fell, and her lips trembled as she threw her arms around Frodo’s neck. Although Merry was her special ‘big brother’ and playmate, she had grown quite attached to both Frodo and Sam. "G’bye, Frodo," she whispered, giving him a small kiss on the cheek. "Daisy goin’ miss you."

Frodo smiled warmly at her. "I’m going to miss you, too," he said. "But I’ll come and visit soon."

Daisy’s smile returned, and she pulled away. "Daisy forgot!" she exclaimed. "'Bye, Frodo!" She ran off toward Merry without another word, and Lila exchanged a shrug with Frodo.

"Daisy’s birthday is first day of Yule!" The girl announced as she nearly bowled Merry over with a hug. "Mer can visit on Yule!"

Merry laughed. "Yes, I believe I can," he said. "I’ll be visiting Frodo for Yule, and I’ll have Pippin with me, so you can meet him!"

Daisy sat back on her heels, suddenly serious again. "Yule day is looooooong time ’way," she murmured disappointedly.

Merry gave her another hug. "Don’t worry, Daisy," he said, trying to sound cheerful. "The months will fly by. Before you know it, it’ll be winter, and I’ll be visiting again. Why, it’s already the last day of Wedmath!"

Her cheerfulness restored, Daisy gave him a kiss on the cheek, and with one last bright smile, she dashed off to say farewell to Sam.

"I cannot thank you enough," Bilbo told Dr. Bolger, strapping his pack on. "How much—?"

Dr. Bolger cut him off quickly. "Oh no, you don’t," he said. "You shan’t pay me a single penny, and I’ll not argue about it," he added, raising his hand to stop Bilbo’s protest. "My reward is simply seeing Frodo well again. That is more than enough."

Bilbo smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "I shan’t forget your kindness."

Taking Bilbo’s offered hand and shaking it warmly, Dr. Bolger smiled and picked up his large bag. "Take care, Mr. Baggins," he said, "you and your lad. I hope to see you again—though hopefully under more pleasant circumstances." With another smile and quick wave, Dr. Bolger started toward the door, stopping for a moment to say farewell to Frodo and fondly ruffle his curls.

After sad farewells and promised visits, Bilbo, Frodo, Sam and Merry left the Broadbelts (as well as the Burrowses, who had decided to stay for a few days) and headed toward the Bywater road. Milo lent them his bay mare, Star, and at first, Bilbo tried to persuade Frodo to ride it. But his nephew had insisted that he could walk, and catching the look in his nephew’s eyes, Bilbo had realized that he simply did not wish to trouble anyone, and so gave in—for now, at least.

Sam led Star, laden with their packs, and the pony already seemed to have taken a liking to him. For himself, Sam also became quite fond of her—he was as skilled with animals as he was with plants—and he snuck her bits of apple as they went along.

Bilbo kept an anxious eye on Frodo, who walked beside him. Although it was not especially warm yet, his nephew’s face was soon soaked with sweat and he was breathing heavily. He would occasionally cover up a cough with his hand, and then square his shoulders and pick up his pace. Bilbo smiled fondly at him. The dear lad was stubbornly determined not to slow them down or succumb to his own physical weakness.

But that same stubbornness (most definitely a Tookish trait) also worried Bilbo. He knew that Frodo would probably not say anything if he was tired or feeling ill again, and would probably push himself too hard, if he was allowed to get away with it—and Bilbo was as stubbornly determined as his nephew notto let that happen.

Around noon, the hobbits stopped for a rest on the side of the wide, flat road. Sam tied Star to a small sapling tree and let the pony graze while they sat down on a blanket. Merry had been put in charge of the food, and he brought out several apples, four biscuits, some chicken (still warm) and for dessert, delicious raspberry tarts.

It was not long before Bilbo noticed that Frodo was only picking at his food, taking small bites of his biscuit whenever anyone looked at him. Leaning forward so that his words could be heard by Frodo alone, Bilbo whispered, "Please eat, my dear boy, if only for my sake. It worries me so to see you so thin—and I could not bear to see you ill again."

Looking up at Bilbo with his blue eyes wide at the thought of causing his dear Uncle pain, Frodo murmured, "I’m sorry, Uncle. I'm just not very hungry at the moment."

Bilbo wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "There’s nothing to be sorry for, my dear boy," he said softly. "But you must eat a little. We've a long way to go yet." With a rather weak smile, Frodo took a bite of his apple.

After lunch, the hobbits set out again, and Bilbo noticed with pleasure that Frodo seemed to be feeling better. But the mid-day sun was beating down upon them now, and all four took frequent gulps of their water. The heat was quickly draining Frodo’s renewed energy, and after about two hours of walking, he began to lag behind.

Merry had been strolling along behind the others, just listening to the sounds of the country, and so he was the first to notice that Frodo was slowing. He quickly caught up to him and took his cousin’s hand. "What’s wrong, Frodo?" he asked softly, so as not to alarm the others.

Frodo raised his head, and Merry saw with alarm his face had gone white and was soaked with sweat. But Frodo gave him a weak smile. "I’m all right, Merry," he panted. "Just a bit hot, that's all."

Merry stepped forward and blocked his way, placing his hands on his hips. "Oh no you’re not, Frodo Baggins," he said stubbornly. "You’re ill, I can see that well enough. I’m going to tell Uncle Bilbo, and we’ll stop and let you rest for a bit. Or you can ride Star."

Frodo was too tired to protest, and Merry helped him gently sink down in the grass beside the road. Quickly feeling his cousin’s forehead and noticing that it was much too hot, Merry ran forward to get Bilbo and Sam, who had stopped to remove a stone from Star’s hoof. "Uncle Bilbo!" he called, grabbing his arm. "Frodo’s not feeling well!" Bilbo turned around, his eyes widening, and ran to his nephew with Merry and Sam, leading Star, close behind.

Bilbo gently pulled Frodo into his lap, letting the lad’s head rest against his shoulder. "Oh, my dear boy," he whispered, stroking his nephew’s dark curls. "Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t well?" He looked up at Merry and Sam, who were nervously watching, unsure of what to do. "Merry," he directed, "please bring me my pack." The youngest hobbit quickly began to unstrap Bilbo’s pack from Star’s back. "And Sam," Bilbo continued, "you can tie up Star—I think we shall be here for a while." Sam nodded and led Star to a small patch of young trees.

Merry brought Bilbo his pack and sat down next to him in order to be close-by if he was needed. Bilbo quickly rummaged through his pack until he found the small jar of trillus herbs. Sam came over and sat down beside them, and Bilbo handed him the jar. "I need you to mix a teaspoon of these into a cup of water."

"Yes sir," said Sam softly, his brown eyes filling with tears as he looked at his barely conscious young master. He pulled out a small tin cup from his own pack and quickly poured water from his own bottle into it.

Bilbo turned to Merry, who was stroking Frodo’s left hand. "Merry," he said, "I need you to get the salve and bandages out of my pack, please. Frodo’s wrist is bleeding again." Merry glanced down at his cousin’s other hand and saw that indeed, the wounds had re-opened and were bleeding again. He quickly found the salve and bandages from Bilbo’s pack and handed it to him.

Bilbo gently laid Frodo down on the grass and put the salve beside him. "Merry," he said without looking up, "you must rub the salve on Frodo’s wrist while I help Sam get the herbs ready. Be careful not to hurt him, though." Merry nodded and dipped his fingers in the salve as Bilbo reluctantly got up and helped Sam.

Frodo’s eyes slowly opened as Merry gently massaged the salve into his wounds. "Merry?" he said hoarsely. "Where’s Uncle Bilbo?"

Merry smiled at him, glad to see his cousin awake and coherent. "Don’t worry, Frodo, he’s just helping Sam with the herbs. He’ll be right back." He looked down at Frodo’s wrist. The salve had stopped the bleeding almost immediately, and the skin, an angry red before, was slowly returning to its normal color. "How’s your wrist feeling?"

Frodo moved it a little. "Much better," he said with a small cough. He smiled wryly. "And I’m not just saying that to make you stop hovering over me."

Merry grinned with relief. "Good," he said, putting the lid on the salve jar and placing it back in Bilbo’s pack. "And we have good reason to hover, obviously," he added, shaking his head. "You—"

He was interrupted as Sam and Bilbo came over with the cup of trillus herbs. "Frodo!" Bilbo cried with relief. "You’re awake!"

Frodo smiled slightly. "I’m fine, Uncle," he said softly, stifling another cough. "Really. I’m much better now."

Bilbo knelt down and took his hand. "Nonetheless, my boy," he said, "you need to drink some of these trillus herbs. They’ll help your cough. Can you sit up?"

Frodo nodded with a grimace at the thought of drinking the bitter-tasting trillus. He raised himself up on his elbows and a little slowly, managed to sit fully upright. He swayed a little, and let Bilbo support him as Sam helped him drink the trillus.

After drinking the entire cup of the nasty liquid, Merry handed him and apple and he quickly took a bite, giving his cousin a grateful look, to which Merry responded by smiling sympathetically. "Here, Mr. Frodo," said Sam, handing him his water bottle.

Frodo gratefully took a gulp. "Thank you, Sam."

The trillus herbs did not take full effect for several minutes, and Bilbo carefully bound his wrist, just to be on the safe side. When Frodo’s coughing had quieted, he fell into a sound sleep, and the others decided to stay and rest for awhile. "Come on, lads," Bilbo said quietly, after about a half an hour. "We should be going, if we want to reach Bag End by supper-time." The other two nodded, and while Sam went to get Star, he gently lifted Frodo up into his arms.

When Sam returned with Star, he and Merry removed all the baggage from the pony’s back, so that Frodo could ride her. Sam took Frodo’s as well as his own, for at the moment, Bilbo was too distracted to stop him. He gently placed Frodo on Star’s back, and held him there for a moment. "Merry," he said, "can you ride up there with Frodo to make sure he won’t fall off."

Merry nodded, eager to be of help. "Of course, uncle." Bilbo helped him mount up behind Frodo, and he wrapped his arms securely around his cousin’s waist. As Star began to move ahead at a steady walk, he pressed his cousin a little closer to him and whispered, "Don’t worry, Frodo, we’ll get you home."

***

"Home at last!" Bilbo cried, some three hours later. Beside him, faithfully leading Star, Sam was panting, and Merry, still sitting behind Frodo, was beginning to nod. "Here, Sam," said Bilbo, taking the reins from the tired young gardener. "I’ll take Star, and you can go unlock the door." He handed Sam the key, and the lad dashed up the garden steps to the round, green door of Bag End.

As Bilbo tied Star to the garden fence, he suddenly heard a shout: "Mr. Bilbo!" He looked up to see the Gaffer jogging towards him. "Glad I am to see you an’ the lads safe back," he said as he stopped beside the pony. He glanced up at Frodo doubtfully. "Or leastwise, back home. Where’s my lad, Sam?"

Sam came racing down the garden steps, through the gate and straight into his father’s arms. "I missed you, da," he murmured, his voice muffled by the Hamfast’s shirt.

"An’ I missed you, too, lad," said his father with a smile. Then he straightened up and became serious again. "Come on then. We’d best get ever’one inside." He looked up at the sky; thick, black clouds were building up, starting to cover the late afternoon sun.

Bilbo gently took Frodo off Star’s back. His nephew sighed softly, but did not wake, as Bilbo carried him inside. The Gaffer reached up and lifted Merry off the pony’s back as well, and carried the half-asleep lad in his strong arms up the steps to Bag End. Sam took Star around to the back garden, and tied her to a small apple tree. He removed her saddle blanket and picked a juicy, red apple for her. The pony seemed to be the least tired of all of them, and she nudged Sam playfully as he fed her the apple. Stroking her soft nose one last time, Sam left her to go see if he was needed inside.

There, he found that Frodo had been put in his own room, while Merry was laid in the guest bed, where he was sound asleep. Bilbo and the Gaffer were standing outside Frodo’s bedroom, talking quietly.

"Yer cousins, them Sackville-Bagginses, they been askin’ for ye," Hamfast was saying. "They’re sayin’ that young Master Frodo stole summat from ’em. Mistress Lobelia was mighty angry when I told her that you weren’t home."

Bilbo sighed. "I didn’t think they’d give up," he said. "But I can’t understand how Frodo could’ve gotten tangled up in this mess. He was only in Bywater for a few days, and he told me that he only saw Lotho once."

Hamfast shook his head. "Dunno," he said. "But surely Master Frodo couldn’t a’ stolen naught from them."

"No, he’d never do a thing like that."

"Did he tell ye aught ’bout that wooden bird that Master Lotho’s sayin’ he stole?"

"Yes, he told me that Milo had carved it for Merry, but he didn’t get the chance to tell me more, and it’s slipped my mind to ask him further."

"Well, I don’t mean t’be speakin’ ill o’ people, sir, but I think that p’raps it was Master Lotho as stole it from them."

"Yes, you may be right. I shall have to ask Frodo about it when he wakes up."

At this point, Sam came over to them and stood beside his father. "Beggin’ your pardon, sir," he said timidly, "but I couldn’t help but overhear what you been talkin’ about, an’ I think I might be able to tell you a bit more."

The Gaffer looked at him sharply, but said nothing. "Go on, Sam," Bilbo encouraged him.

"W-well, sir," Sam stammered, "me Gaffer’s right. Mr. Lotho did take the bird, when we were campin’ with Mr. Milo." He paused uncertainly, and Bilbo nodded for him to continue. "Mr. Merry lost his bird, and we were all lookin’ for it, an’ then we found a campsite. There weren’t no one there, an’ Mr. Merry went into one o’ the tents an’ found his bird. Then, when we got back to Mr. Milo and Miss Peony’s house, Mr. Frodo got that letter from you, an’ we knew it had t' 'ave been Mr. Lotho as took the bird, sir."

Bilbo was silent for several moments, mulling Sam’s story over. "Well, Sam," he said at last, "I suppose I shall have to try to explain this to Lobelia, though I doubt that she’ll listen. Thank you for telling me."

Sam grinned shyly, and stifled a yawn. Hamfast looked down at his son and caught it. "Beggin’ yer pardon, Mr. Bilbo," he said. "But I think it’s time me an’ Sam went home."

Bilbo smiled and ruffled Sam’s sandy curls. "Of course," he said. "Thank you both for your help." The Gaffer nodded, and Bilbo saw them to the door.

Outside, lightning was beginning to flash and thunder rumbled, but the storm was not yet overhead. "Hurry home!" Bilbo called after them. "Wouldn’t want you to get caught outside when this storm breaks!"

"Aye, sir," the Gaffer replied over his shoulder, hoisting the exhausted Sam up into his arms. "An’ you take care as well!" He disappeared down the hill just as the rain began to fall, softly at first, and then a pounding torrent. Bilbo stayed in the doorway, watching the rain for several minutes, before sighing and going back inside.

***

"Merry! Wake up, sleepyhead!" Frodo called, two days later. Merry groaned and burrowed his head deeper into his pillow. With a mischievous grin, Frodo added, "Breakfast’s ready, and if you don’t wake up, we won’t save you any." This got Merry’s attention. His eyes flew open, all sleep forgotten, and jumped out of bed. Frodo watched in satisfied amusement as he flung on his clothes and dashed out of the door, as usual forgetting to make his bed.

"I spoil you," muttered Frodo under his breath as he straightened his cousin’s disheveled blankets. He stepped back and admired his work for a moment, then headed down the hall for breakfast.

There he found Bilbo bustling around the kitchen, making some tea, and Merry already into his second helping of hotcakes and sausage. "Hullo Frodo," he greeted cheerfully, as his cousin entered the room. "It’s about time you’ve decided to join us."

Frodo smirked. "Well, perhaps I would have joined you sooner if I hadn’t had to make someone’s bed."

Merry grinned, taking a huge bite of his hotcake. "I don’t know what you mean," he said innocently, his mouth full.

"Mmm-hmm." Frodo went into the kitchen to help Bilbo. "Good morning, Uncle," he said cheerfully.

Bilbo smiled and ruffled his nephew’s hair. "Hullo, my boy," he said. "You go sit down, and I’ll have tea ready in half a moment."

"Oh no you don’t," Frodo said with a laugh. "I’ll finish the tea, and you go sit down! You haven’t eaten yet this morning, I’ve noticed."

Bilbo chuckled. "And neither have you, I might point out." Frodo pretended not to hear.

Laughing, Bilbo sat down at the table while Frodo finished making the tea. Frodo had just placed the teapot on the table, and was about go back into the kitchen, when there was a knock at the door. Frodo started to get it, but Bilbo got up and put a hand on his nephew’s arm. "I’ll get it," he said. "You go eat."

Frodo nodded, and Bilbo hurried to get the door as the bell rang. "Half a moment!" he called, unlocking the door and opening it. On the doorstep stood Lobelia, with Lotho beside her. Two Shirriffs were on either side of them, striving to look important but seeming uncomfortable nonetheless.

"May I help you?" Bilbo asked in surprise.

One of the Shirriffs stepped forward, nervously glancing at his companion. "Good morrow to you, Mr. Baggins," he said. "I’m afraid that I need you and your nephew to come with us, to see Mayor Whitfoot."

"Whatever for?" Bilbo demanded.

The Shirriff winced. "I’m sorry, sir, but Frodo Baggins is under arrest for suspicion of theft."

TBC...