Chapter Two - Breakfast Adventure!

Bag End's kitchen was, at the moment, the perfect blend of warm, brilliant, mid-morning sunshine and temperate, fragrant breeze as it's eastern-most window was gracious enough to let in a bit of both. One could never know quite what to expect from Shire weather during the last weeks of March and the first weeks of April, but on this particular day, it looked as if 'perfect' was going to be the only way to describe it accurately. Unseasonably warm temperatures in early March had brought the Dogwood trees to blossom earlier than they might have with more traditional temperatures. A cold snap a week after the first of the brilliant white blooms had made their debut was marked as ' * Dogwood Winter', but as expected, it hadn't lasted long before giving away to the milder temperatures the Shirefolk were enjoying now.

Bilbo, entered the coziness of the kitchen with Frodo still perched upon his hip as he listened to his uncle describe Gandalf the Grey, who, Frodo had just learned, was something called a 'wizard'.

"Wiss-dert? Wha' wiss-dert, Unga Bee?" Frodo's little brows drew together in confusion, his dark head cocked to one side.

"That, my dear lad, is a question we will answer at another time. Right now, I must get started on this second breakfast if we're to have it eaten before elevenses! I've heard your belly growl three times already between here and the front door! Are you sure you don't have a baby bear in there?" Bilbo teased poking the toddler's little belly gently.

Frodo's eyes grew round at the thought. "Beebee beahw? In Fwo bewwy? 'Ou siwwy, Unga Bee!" The toddler giggled, liking the thoughts of a 'beebee beahw'.

As if to give credence to Bilbo's 'theory' the baby's tummy growled again. Bilbo gave Frodo a wide eyed look that said, 'see?'.

Frodo's look back was also wide eye as he cupped his mouth with his hands and whispered conspiratorially, "Beebee beahw hundwey, Unga Bee!"

"Well, my goodness! See if you can hold him at bay while I whip up something to satisfy that ferocious appetite!" Bilbo laughed affectionately as he began pulling bowls, spoons and needed ingredients from the pantry and larder.

Frodo, his little fingers grasping tightly to a handful of the back of his uncle's weskit, watched with interest as Bilbo began to put the makings of pancakes together in a large mixing bowl. A heaping mound of flour was sifted in first and was soon joined by a portion of milk, eggs and baking powder. Bilbo worked fast at putting the ingredients together, for he had made this same recipe so often that he didn't even need to measure anymore. With all of the ingredients together in the bowl, Bilbo took up the large spoon he had selected to mix with but found that he couldn't do it effectively with only one hand as he needed to hold the bowl with one hand and mix with the other.

"Here we go, Frodo lad. Be a good boy while your Uncle Bilbo mixes the pancakes, hmm?" Bilbo said standing the toddler onto his still often unsteady feet.

"'Es, Unga Bee." Came the reply from down near Bilbo's knee.

As Bilbo mixed the batter, then began pouring portions of the finished product on to the buttered and heated griddle, he glanced down often to see Frodo still standing almost right where he'd placed him at his knee. After a few moments the toddler began to move about a bit, but never left the close vicinity of his uncle. Bilbo felt a little hand on the knee of his pants and saw that he was currently being orbited by his small nephew as though he were a May pole to be twirled about. Round and round the toddler went for several good turns, then, Bilbo felt tiny feet climbing up to stand atop his own. When he looked down, Frodo was standing facing him with each of his little feet in the soft fur of Bilbo's bigger ones. One plump little arm was hugging each of Bilbo's legs as Frodo grinned up at his uncle. The little head tilted precariously far back, to see Bilbo's reaction.

"What are you up to, my little lad? Do you think I'm a carpet to be tread upon, hmm? Don't you fall, now!" Bilbo couldn't help grinning back as he looked down into the small, dimpled face.

"Unga Bee a tah-pet!" Frodo giggled, hugging his uncle's knees closer and trying to put his face between them.

"Silly lad!" Bilbo laughed turning his full attention back to the pancakes, which were almost ready to be turned.

Frodo climbed down from atop Bilbo's feet and began twirling around once more, his little feet making soft patters as they slapped the stone floor of the kitchen. He was mid orbit when he spotted it. His grip on his uncle's pant leg tightened as it drew near. Its small feet didn't make any sound as they crossed the floor. A long and very bushy tail swished and then stood proudly at attention as it got closer and closer. Frodo was actively hugging his uncle's leg now and hiding behind it as best he could as he watched the creature's approach with round, horrified blue eyes. He'd been spotted! Large, oval, amber eyes were upon him. It's nose twitched as it took in his scent. Long whiskers drew down in concentration as the creature studied him, mere inches away now. All at once, a tiny cold wet nose touched Frodo's toe.

"Aagghhhh!! Unga Bee! UN-GA BEE!!!" Frodo shrieked, beginning to climb his uncle's leg.

Unaware that his nephew was being 'attacked', or in fact, even approached by the 'creature', Bilbo was mid-flip with the pancake when the shrill cry rang out. Poor Bilbo was so startled that he lost hold of the spatula. In vain he tried to catch it before it hit the stone floor with a terrible clatter. In the process, he managed to touch the edge of the hot griddle and burn his hand, causing him to jump back unsteadily, upsetting the toddler who was still ascending his leg. Frodo landed on his back with a small thud and for a second made no sound, for all the air had been knocked out of his lungs. Then, when he was able to draw a deep breath, it came. A wail, full and loud, made up of the shock of hitting the floor, a small bit of pain and mostly, fear. The 'creature' was now hiding beneath the table crouched down low, ears laid back, eyes large and frightened, having taken his leave amidst the falling objects, clatters and shrieks.

Bilbo didn't think his poor heart could take much more, between the sudden shriek, burning his hand on the griddle and then seeing his nephew hit the floor. Within seconds after Frodo began wailing at the top of his lungs, his uncle was on his knees beside him on the cold, stone floor, scooping him up in a gentle embrace as he continued to cry. Huge tears coursed down the little face that was flushed red now from the exertion of wailing as loud as he ever had.

"Oh, dear! Frodo, are you all right, my little lad? Are you hurt? Have you hit your head? Can you tell Uncle Bilbo where it hurts? Let me see, little one." Bilbo's hands felt the little body and the back of Frodo's head gently, searching for any injuries.

Finding no blood or broken bones or even a knot on the back of his head, Bilbo gave a small sigh of relief even as his nephew continued to cry pitifully. Bilbo sat holding and rocking the toddler for several minutes, talking to him in quiet, soothing tones. As he did, Frodo tried ineffectively to tell his Uncle all about it even as he continued to sob and his little chest hitched in the middle of words. Though the baby talked much, the only words Bilbo was able to discern were "Unga Bee" and "det Fwo". Bilbo could make no sense of it, but let the lad talk, none the less, until he was once again reduced to mere sobs.

"Shhhh, my dear lad. It's all right. Uncle Bilbo's here. Shhh." He spoke gently into the small pointed ear and stroked the little back that had taken the brunt of the fall, but didn't seem to be truly injured, though it would likely have a bit of a bruise later.

After several moments of the holding, rocking and soothing, along with many soft kisses pressed into his hair, Frodo began to quiet just a bit. The hitching sobs reduced to sniffles as Frodo finally began to wind down. The toddler was nearly spent, clinging tightly to his uncle's weskit as he lay cradled in the warm safety of Bilbo's arms, his little head laid against the sturdy chest. Drowsiness began to descend on him and he might have dropped off right there, but then - he spotted it. There, still crouched down low beneath the table, the creature sat, looking at the pair with his yellow eyes.

Bilbo was relieved to see that his nephew had quieted finally and from all appearances was about to drop off to sleep. He started to get up and remove himself from the floor along with his drowsy nephew, when the peace was shattered by another terrified outcry from the little one in his arms.

"Aaaghh!!" Frodo screamed. "Unga Bee! Ova deahw!" The toddler cried, pointing to the offending creature even as he tried to huddle even closer to his uncle, hiding most of his little face in the folds of the now tearstained weskit, gripping it with both small fists. "Ho' me, Unga Bee! Ho' me! Not wet'it det Fwo! Pease, Unga Bee! Pease!"

The little body in Bilbo's arms was completely atremble as Bilbo tried to comfort and sooth even as he attempted to work out what the trouble was. From his higher vantagepoint, he could not see what evil must have surely been lurking beneath his kitchen table, if his nephew's reaction to it was any indicator.

With Frodo still huddled in his arms, his little face still pressed into his weskit, save one wide blue eye, with which he was occasionally peeking at the evil creature, Bilbo leant his body far over to peer beneath the table. From all the distress Frodo seemed to be in, Bilbo had expected to find perhaps, a dragon, or at the very least a stray troll hiding beneath his oak table. But to his surprise, the only creature that seemed to be in residence beneath the table was "Mr. Peeper" - the stray kitten he had taken in last fall - crouched down low and looking nearly as frightened as the toddler in his arms.

Bilbo smirked, and then began to laugh. "My goodness, Frodo, my dear lad! Is that the cause of all this drama?" Bilbo laughed good naturedly, pointing to Mr. Peeper, who still had not emerged from his hiding place.

Frodo spared one quick peek in the direction his uncle was pointing and quickly hid his face again even as he shook his little head in the affirmative.

"Why, my little lad, that's nothing to be frightened of! That's only Uncle Bilbo's kitty cat, Mr. Peeper. He won't hurt you." Bilbo spoke to the little one whose face was still hidden.

Frodo was not convinced. Bilbo wouldn't have thought it possible, but he felt his nephew squirm even closer, holding on tighter than ever.

"Frodo." Bilbo spoke the name as a caress. "It's all right, little one. Kitty won't hurt my little lad. Kitty is nice. Look here." Bilbo continued in his soft tone. Frodo turned his face just enough to be able to peek up at this uncle's face, then over to 'kitty cat' who was still hiding and looking frightened.

Then, to Frodo's dismay, Bilbo seemed to be trying to draw the big eyed creature toward them.

"Here, kitty, kitty!" Bilbo called. "Come here, Mr. Peeper. Come show yourself friendly and make a friend. It's all right. Come on." Bilbo sang to the frightened animal under the table as the frightened nephew in his arms squirmed to louver himself higher on his uncle's waist.

Mr. Peeper was much easier to convince that the world was not coming to an end than Frodo had been. Hearing the soft soothing tone from Bilbo was all the invitation the feline needed. His whiskers relaxed, his ears stood up and his eyes no longer looked frightened as he stood and began to cross the floor to his master on his soft, soundless feet.

"Hullo, Mr. Peeper!" Bilbo enthused as the cat reached his side. "I'm afraid I was a bit amiss as host this morning and forgot to make the proper introductions. Terribly sorry about that." Bilbo spoke to the feline as he began stroking the soft head and rubbing the warm little ears.

Frodo, who had managed to get up as high as he possibly could on his uncle's middle now had his face buried in Bilbo's collar, his little arms flung around his neck, hands grasping desperately to his weskit.

"Mr. Peeper," Bilbo continued rubbing the cat's ears. "I'd like you to meet my dear nephew, Frodo Baggins. Frodo's going to be staying with us for a bit. And Frodo, I'm pleased to introduce you to my friend and companion, Mr. Peeper. Mr. Peeper came to stay with me at Bag End last fall, didn't you my furry friend?" Bilbo addressed the cat as he scratched under his chin, where kitties like it best.

At first, Frodo made no move whatsoever. In fact, Bilbo might have thought him asleep were it not for the occasional tickle he felt on his neck from Frodo's long lashes brushing against him as he blinked. But, as Bilbo continued petting the cat as he spoke in his soft soothing tone, Mr. Peeper began to do what all contented kitties will do. He began to purr. Loudly. As Frodo had never met a cat before, he had also never heard the sound of purring. He listened in wonder to the strange sound. Finally, Frodo's keen sense of curiosity overcame his fear. Cautiously, Frodo began to peek at the 'kitty cat' who was emitting a very odd, yet not unpleasant noise as his uncle stoked and petted. The little head was slowly raised from its hiding place at his uncles neck as Frodo looked at the creature in fascination.

"Wha' tee-tat doin', Unga Bee?" Frodo finally got up the courage to ask, his face a study in fascinated confusion.

"Doing? Why, he's purring, my lad." Bilbo answered, continuing to stroke the animal, who continued to emit a loud purr.

"Poe-wing? Wha' dat?" Frodo queried, his eyes never leaving the feline, who he was still not entirely trusting of.

Bilbo thought for a moment of how in the world he was going to explain what a 'purr' was, as he wasn't entirely sure he knew exactly. A purr was just a purr. "Well," Bilbo began. "Purring is just the sound Peeper makes when he's happy - like he is now." Bilbo finished, feeling quite pleased with himself for such a simple, yet accurate explanation.

"Tee-tat, habby? Why, Unga Bee? Why tee-tat habby?" Frodo continued to study the 'tee-tat' in question, now with perhaps a bit less caution.

"Because I'm petting him. He loves to be petted! It shows I love him - and he loves to be loved!" Bilbo explained.

"Oh." Frodo said simply.

"Would you like to pet Mr. Peeper, Frodo? I assure you, he's quite nice. He won't hurt you. Come on down here and meet him properly." Bilbo invited.

Frodo looked unsure for a moment, then asked, "Tee-tat no bi'e?".

"No. He won't bite." Bilbo answered.

"Not det Fwo?" The toddler asked.

"I wouldn't let him get my Frodo, even if he wanted to - which he doesn't." Bilbo assured him.

"Tee-tat no ea' me up?" Frodo still questioned.

"No! Kitty only likes to eat mice! And you're not a mouse - are you?" Bilbo's eyes twinkled teasingly.

"No! Fwo na’ a mouse! Fwo hobbi'!" The toddler declared.

"Well then, young hobbit, climb down and meet Mr. Peeper who won't bite you, get you, or eat you up!" Bilbo encouraged.

Slowly, Frodo loosened his grip on his uncle's weskit and began to slide down. With his feet on the floor, Frodo crouched, backed up between Bilbo's knees and studied the cat, face to face for a moment. Bilbo kept a steadying (and securing) arm around his nephew.

Deciding that perhaps the kitty might not be his doom after all, Frodo finally spoke. And very properly, just as his mother had recently been trying to teach him, began to introduce himself to the feline.

" 'Lo, Mistah Peepah! Fwo Bad'ins at 'ou subitce. An' 'ou famwy." Frodo even did a little bow in the cat's direction.

Mr. Peeper studied the little hobbit with curiosity - for a hobbit it surely was, despite being quite small for one of the fur foots. Perhaps it was only a kitten like himself, ran Mr. Peeper's thoughts. At any rate, it was much nicer now that it had stopped shrieking loud enough to wake the dead. Its voice, soft and treble with just a bit of scratchiness, was actually very pleasant as it spoke to him (though, it seemed to be speaking somewhat of a different language than the larger fur foot). The feline wondered when it was going to reach out that small hand and give him a pet.

Slowly, from the safety of his uncle's embrace, Frodo extended one hand toward the cat. Still a bit fearful, Frodo hesitated a bit with his hand hovering slightly over the feline's head. Peeper took the offered hand as a standing invitation however, and nudged a bit upward, taking his petting rather than receiving it. Frodo gasped as the soft fur met his fingers so unexpectedly, but he decided it was rather a nice surprise. Emboldened now, he decided to do what he'd seen his uncle doing a few minutes before - he began stroking the cat's head between the small, pointed ears. Much to Frodo's giggling delight, Mr. Peeper launched into a full fledged purr.

"Heehee! He wikes me, Unga Bee! Fwo ma'e tee-tat habby!" Frodo laughed outright as he began to stoke more boldly, venturing his hand down the cat's back and watching as Mr. Peeper brought his hind quarters high to meet the small hand.

"Fwo wike tee-tat! Tee-tat na' bi'e! Tee-tat na' det Fwo! Tee-tat na' ea' me up!" Frodo continued petting his new friend as he talked to him.

Mr. Peeper was liking this new hobbit more and more and so decided to investigate a bit closer. Before Frodo knew what was happening, Mr. Peeper had slunk forward and was stretching his neck up to sniff at Frodo's ear. As the kitty sniffed, his whiskers tickled something fierce, sending the little hobbit into peals of pleasant sounding giggles even as he tried to ward of the tickling kitty. Bilbo was having a laugh of his own as he watched the new friends get to know each other. Suddenly however, he became aware of something else. Burning. Something was burning. He sniffed. The pancakes! In the midst of the chaos, he had completely forgotten them, and now, it seemed, they were burning.

"Oh! The pancakes!" Bilbo exclaimed, springing up and taking Frodo with him. Mr. Peeper dashed away, back to his hiding place under the table, in case there might be more falling objects to come.

As Bilbo had feared when the charred scent had wafted to his nose, the pancakes were beyond salvation. "Drat!" Bilbo groused. "Well, Frodo, my lad, it looks as if we won't be having pancakes this morning after all."

"No pa'tates?" Frodo's little face fell, even as his tummy gave a growl. He truly was very hungry.

"Afraid not, dear boy. Your Uncle Bilbo has gone and made a mess of them I'm afraid. But don't fret. There are plenty scones left over from first breakfast and with a quantity of jelly spread on them, they'll be quite tasty. I can't wait any longer, and from the sound of that baby bear in your belly, neither can he. Let's eat." Bilbo declared, carrying Frodo with him to the table and uncovering the dish containing the left over scones and jelly.

Without bothering with plates, Bilbo and Frodo sat at table and enjoyed the scones (which were quite good with the jelly). Bilbo sat with Frodo on his lap, slathering the jelly and feeding alternate bites to Frodo then himself. He was amazed at the amount the tiny hobbit could eat and wondered if the lad might really have a baby bear inside. With the last of the scones polished off (along with the left over tea left in the pot on the table), the pair leaned back on the bench, completely sated. Frodo rubbed a small hand over his belly and gave a contented sigh as Bilbo did the same. The toddler was very drowsy now. All the morning's excitement followed by all those delicious scones and jelly was the perfect recipe for a nap. His eyes had begun to drift shut as he felt his uncle reach one hand up to stroke back the hair on his brow. Warm lips pressed into his hairline as his mum's so often did.

"Unga Bee?" Frodo's little voice was sleepy.

"Yes, dear boy?" His uncle's voice was drowsy too as he rested his cheek against the baby's sweet curls.

"Fwo poe-wing i'side" Frodo's sleep laden voice whispered.

"You're purring inside?" Bilbo asked gently, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"M-hm." Frodo answered as his sleepiness grew harder and harder to fight.

"And why is that?" Bilbo couldn't help asking.

"Fwo habby. Wuved." Was the last response Frodo could manage before sleep and dreamland claimed him entirely.

Bilbo sat just holding the lad with his cheek still resting in the softness of his curls for a few moments before rising. He reveled in the innocence of the little one sleeping so trustingly in his arms. Slowly, as not to wake him, Bilbo rose, cradling Frodo gently. He carried him down the halls to his own bedroom and tenderly laid him down on his belly in the middle of his bed. Cautiously, he surrounded the sleeping toddler with pillows to prevent his hitting the floor for the second time that day, in case he should roll about in his sleep. Taking the soft quilt folded at the end of his bed, Bilbo lay it over the peacefully sleeping toddler. As Bilbo stood just watching Frodo's peaceful sleep, he was amused to see a small thumb find its way into Frodo's waiting lips. Bilbo chuckled very quietly, then drew his hand across the dark hair at the baby's brow once more and leaned over to kiss the sleep-flushed cheek.

Not daring to shatter the perfect peace of the moment, Bilbo did not speak, but thought to himself, "I'm purring, too, my little lad. Your ‘Unga Bee's’ purring, too."

Then, on his silent hobbit feet, Bilbo turned from the room, heading back to the kitchen to face the mess that awaited him there. He was grinning, none the less.

TBC...