Sunday, 25 Rethe S.R. 1389, Afternoon 

After luncheon, Bilbo left Merry and his parents in the front room. “Frodo, why don’t you and I take a little walk?”

Frodo thought it was kind of Uncle Bilbo to let Uncle Sara and Aunt Esme have some time alone with Merry, since they had been missing him for several days. He thought Merry was quite ready to spend the time with his Mum and Da also.

Bilbo fetched his walking stick, and the two of them went down the path and up the Road, humming Bilbo’s favorite walking song about “The Road Goes Ever On”.

After a few moments, Bilbo said “You had better come and live here, Frodo, my lad, and then we can celebrate our birthday-parties comfortably together.”*

Frodo laughed. “That would be splendid, Uncle Bilbo.” Bilbo had said these exact same words to him every year since he was sixteen and had begun these springtime visits. Frodo thought that he would be of age, however before Aunt Esme and Aunt Gilda thought he would be old enough to live permanently with the eccentric old bachelor.

But this time Bilbo did not laugh with him. “Yes, Frodo, it would indeed be splendid, and I think it is time, and past time, that we make it so. I have spoken to Sara and we agree. Perhaps Esme and Menegilda will not be happy about it, but there is no more reason to delay. Neither one of us is getting any younger. I do not want to wait until you are of age, and I do not want to miss any more of your growing up.”

Frodo stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Bilbo. One of his greatest dreams come true? To live always in peace and quiet and privacy, in Bag End? Away from the bustle of Brandy Hall? Away from constant reminders of his dead parents? Away from the River? Suddenly he thought of something else: away from his Merry?

Bilbo saw the thought as it occurred to him. Frodo’s eyes always showed his emotions and thoughts as plain as day.

“Merry is getting old enough to visit on his own, as we have seen this year. And of course you will go to visit him. You will see each other at Yule in Buckland, and in Tookland during Lithe. And of course you may write every day if you wish.”

“Oh, Uncle Bilbo!” The joy in his blue eyes was stunning. “I never thought this day would ever come!”

“It has come now.” Bilbo began to step out once more. “I must tell you that there may be a bit of unpleasantness. You can imagine how the S.-B.s will take this news.”

Frodo looked puzzled.

“Frodo, I am going to adopt you as my heir. You will be a son to me as far as the law is concerned, and will one day be Master of Bag End, and if all goes well, head of the Baggins family as well. This will not sit well with Otho.”

“Master of Bag End? But Bilbo, you must live for many, many years yet. I can’t lose you now!” He looked truly distraught, as though Bilbo had told him he was going to expire next week.

“Well, lad, my ambition is to pass the Old Took, but I plan at least to live until you are of age. Now, let us talk of more pleasant things, such as your future studies. I think you are doing well with Sindarin, what do you say we start you in a course of Quenyan next week?”

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Because of his hands, Merry could not go outside to play, and truth to tell, he had missed his parents a lot. So he was more than happy to sit in his Mum’s lap, and listen to his Da read him a story out of one of Bilbo’s many books. It was a story about a Man who loved an Elven lass, and Merry could not understand the half of it, but it was nice just to hear his Da’s voice again.

But soon his father shut the book, and he looked at Merry with a very serious face. “Merry, you know that we are going to stay here for a few more days?”

“Yes, Da! That’s good, because I don’t want to leave before Gandalf gets here! And I know that Frodo wants to see Gandalf, too.”

“Merry, Frodo will not be coming back with us when we go home to Buckland.”

Merry looked a bit distressed, but said, “I’m sorry I fussed the other day. I know that he will stay longer than we can.”

His Mum hugged him up, as though trying to comfort him, and he suddenly had a fearful feeling.

“Merry, Frodo is not going to live in Buckland anymore. He is going to stay here and live at Bag End, with Bilbo.”

“No! Da! I’ll be ever so good! I won’t fuss anymore! Please don’t make Frodo stay here!” In spite of his resolve to be big and not fuss, he felt tears coming to his eyes. He squinted and shook his head. He wouldn’t cry, that’s what he’d done, he’d cried and carried on, and now they were taking away his Frodo.

His father reached over and took both his little hands very gently in his own. “Merry, this is not about you. You have not done anything wrong. Cousin Bilbo is ever so lonely here, he needs a lad of his own, and Frodo has no mum and da anymore, so Bilbo would like him to stay and be his lad.”

“But he’s my Frodo!” That was no fair! Frodo was his first!

“He will always be your Frodo, Merry-lad, but he needs to stay here. You know how sad the River makes him.”

“Because it drownded his mum and da. It makes him ever so awfully sad sometimes, I just want to cry when I see his face.”

“Well, if he stays here, the River can’t make him sad.”

Merry felt something wet land on his arm. He looked up. His Mum was crying. Now he really felt bad. “But I’ll miss him,” he said mournfully.

“I know, my lad, but Cousin Bilbo and I talked. In the autumn, when it is a better time for Frodo, he will come and have a good long visit in Buckland. And he and Bilbo both will come for Yule. And you know how Frodo always comes to stay here in the spring? Well, you have been such a good brave lad this visit, that we will let you come and stay next spring as long as Frodo always did! And you know we will all be in Tookland at midsummer.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” But Merry still had his doubts. If Frodo did get sad, what would he do without his Merry to say he loved him? He wanted to cry, but he didn’t want to do it in front of his parents. He was a big lad now, they said so.

“May I get down?”

Esmeralda set him on the floor, and he padded off to Frodo’s room and shut the door.

“Oh, Sara,” she threw herself into her husband’s arms and wept.

He felt like weeping, too, even though he knew this was all for the best,

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Bilbo and Frodo were walking a bit further, making plans for the future. Every now and then they would pass other hobbits, and wave and pass the time of day. They had walked all the way to Bywater, and were just about ready to turn back, so as to get to Bag End in time for tea, when they saw a cart coming in their direction.

Bilbo gave a shout. “Look, Frodo, my lad!”

Frodo was looking. Driving the cart was a tall figure in grey, with a tall pointed hat; a shorter figure with a lush dark beard sat alongside. Frodo looked at Bilbo.

“Yes, indeed! Gandalf!” Bilbo called, “Balin, my friends!” And he dashed up the road, Frodo on his heels.

The cart came to a halt as the two hobbits came running up.

“Bilbo, my dear hobbit! Well met!” exclaimed the Wizard.

“Well, if it isn’t our host come to meet us!” said the Dwarf. “And who is this?”

Bilbo put his arm around Frodo’s shoulders. “This is my cousin, and heir, Frodo Baggins, who has come to live with me!” he said proudly.

Frodo thought he would burst from happiness. He looked up and up, into the eyes of the Wizard. Suddenly he knew that this person would be one of his dearest friends in life.

Gandalf looked down into the luminous blue eyes, and realized with a start, that this was the brightest mortal spirit he had ever seen. Somehow he knew that he had just met his greatest friend, on either side of the Sea.

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Merry had cried himself out and had a little doze, and when he woke, he washed his face all by himself. And if he did not quite erase all his tearstains, his parents pretended not to notice.

Now he was sitting on his Da’s knee on the bench by the front steps. His Da was smoking a pipe, and they were watching the Gaffer set out some spring bedding plants. Sam was helping his father, tenderly removing the little plants from their small pots and handing them to the Gaffer to set in the ground. Every now and then he’d look up at Merry and grin.

Saradoc was pleased that Merry had found a friend near his own age here in Hobbiton. It would bode well for his future visits. It did not concern him in the least that Sam was the gardener’s son--he seemed a sweet and reliable child, and that was all that mattered as far as he was concerned. But he hoped that Sam’s father would not obstruct their friendship. He recognized the concern for proprieties that the Gaffer had displayed.

There was the sound of a rumble on the roadway, and Saradoc and Merry looked down the path in amazement as they saw Bilbo and Frodo leap nimbly out of a large waggon, followed by a Dwarf and a Big Person.

Merry knew at once who it was and started to scramble down. “It’s Gandalf, Da! Wait ‘till he sees his room!” Saradoc grasped his little shirt before he could dart down the path.

“Merry-lad, don’t go spoiling his surprise!”

The grey eyes went wide, and he nodded and was away, before his father could follow at a more sedate pace.

From his vantage point in the flower bed, Sam watched, his brown eyes full of longing.

The Gaffer shook his head. “Oh, go along with you! But mind you act proper and don’t go speakin’ ‘till you’re spoke to.”

Sam shot off down the path, and soon caught up to Merry.

The Gaffer sighed. Wizards! Mr. Bilbo was a good Master, but he did go filling the lad’s head up with naught but moonbeams.

Bilbo looked to see who was joining them. “Gandalf and Balin, this is Meriadoc Brandybuck, Frodo’s little cousin, and this is Samwise Gamgee.”

“Merry Brandybuck at your service, sirs,” he said with a little bow. Watching, Sam imitated the bow, but was too tongue-tied in the presence of such beings to say anything.

Balin smiled through his beard and likewise bowed. “Balin son of Fundin at your service and your families’, Master Meriadoc and Master Samwise.”

Saradoc strolled up, and Bilbo made more introductions. Saradoc had met the Wizard many years before, but he had never met the Dwarf. Soon the introductory pleasantries were over. Gandalf turned to Bilbo. “I shall put the cart and horse away, and soon join you up at the smial.”

Bilbo smiled. “You do that, Gandalf. Why don’t you give us your things? We’ll carry them up right now.” He fought down a laugh as Gandalf handed out his bedroll. He’d not be needing that this visit, though he didn’t yet know it.

Bilbo led them all but Gandalf up to the smial. He knew the Wizard would be along in just a few minutes.

When Gandalf carefully entered the smial a few moments later, he saw Balin in the front room being introduced to Esmeralda. He came along and renewed his own acquaintance. When last he had seen her, she had been a bold little Took lass in her tweens. She was very pleased to see the Wizard again.

Bilbo came up to him. “Come along, do, Gandalf, while I show Balin to his room so that he may freshen up. Then there’s something I’d like you to see as well.”

He led them down the passageway, and stopped in front of a door somewhat larger than the rest. Gandalf could not recall ever having seen that particular door before.

Bilbo pushed the door open and stood aside, and Gandalf saw the room.

With the floor lowered, the ceiling was nearly ten feet high. Slowly Gandalf went down the four steps to the cool flagstone floor. To the right of the door was a high shelf with three hooks underneath, where he could hang his robe, cloak and hat. Lower down on the same wall was another shelf with a ewer and washbasin. In the corner was the Big chair, with a pale grey cushion on the seat. A small shelf on the wall next to it held an oil lamp. The wall behind the chair boasted a large round window hung with gauzy curtains gently swaying in the breeze. Under the window, Bilbo had placed what was (for hobbits) a huge blanket chest. But in this room, it did not look so large. On top of the chest stood a vase of early spring flowers.

Almost the entire wall to the left of the door was taken up by the Big bed. It was dressed with a quilted coverlet in shades of grey, pale blue and white, with a snowy white pillow at the head. Another shelf was by the bed, with a candlestick set upon it. A soft rug on the floor next to the bed completed the room.

Gandalf gazed about the room, speechless.

“Do you like it?” asked Bilbo anxiously.

“Like it? My dear Bilbo! Words fail me! It is beyond anything I might have dreamt of!”

For since he had arrived in Middle-earth long ages ago, he had been a wanderer and a pilgrim, passing most of his nights beneath the stars. Oh, there were places where he was more than welcome: Rivendell and Lórien among the Elves; in Erebor with the Dwarves; until just a few years ago, his presence was honored in Minas Tirith, when Ecthelion was Steward. But he was ever and always a guest.

But this--this was a place for him, made for him with love and care and a deal of thoughtfulness. This was as close to a home as he could know until his task was done and he returned across the Sea. Tears stood in his eyes.

Hobbits were amazing creatures.

He bent down to embrace his friend. “Thank you, Bilbo. I am honored.”

Bilbo returned the embrace affectionately. “You are quite welcome, Gandalf. I am pleased that you like it.”

Gandalf stood up, to see all Bilbo’s other guests and family standing in the corridor grinning. Little Merry was beside himself, hopping up and down, and exclaiming, “He likes it! He likes it!”

“Indeed, Meriadoc, I like it very much.”