Frodo thought of Bilbo and his long friendship with the dwarf, and of Balin's visit to the Shire long ago. [FotR - The Bridge of Khazad-dûm]

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Chapter Five: Old Friend Monster

One thing was clear for Bilbo when Frodo ran to him, all shaky and frightened: it was not Bell Gamgee who was at the door. Whoever it was must be quite a sight to bring his lad into such a desperate state and Bilbo had to admit that Frodo's fear made him just a bit worried about who he would greet when he opened the door.

Frodo was still hiding behind him, acting as if he was leading him into a dragon's lair and Bilbo laid a comforting hand on the lad's shoulder to calm him as he slowly reached out for the knob. Once the door was open he froze, just as Frodo had done before, and behind him his nephew inhaled sharply, small hands squeezing his own.

The sight his eyes caught was all but calming. Someone stood before him, looking just as Frodo had described it to him - tall and broad with a hair-framed face and stout, dirty boots. The person's stature was but a shade before the darkening evening sky, for though it had stopped to rain it remained dark and cloudy. Raindrops were dripping from the hood the person was wearing and in the dim light coming from inside the smial Bilbo thought that the hood was scarlet. But as it was dark and the hood was drawn deeply into the stranger's face. Bilbo didn't recognise his guest.

~*~*~

Balin was taken aback when the little one opened the door instead of the old hobbit and close friend he had expected. In the eyes of the child he could see a reflection of the same surprise he was experiencing. For a moment he was so stunned, he found himself unable to speak. He took a deep breath to gather himself and was just about to introduce himself properly when the door was banged shut.

Even more bewildered than before he rose from what would have been a bow if the little one had waited a little longer and stared at the green door in surprise. He could hear the trampling of hobbit feet briskly making for a room in the back of the hobbithole. He cleared his throat in hope it would help him to order his thoughts.

Taking a step back the dwarf looked at the green door and the shiny yellow knob in its middle. Then he looked at the dark rain clouds above him before turning round to gaze at the garden door and the path that led towards it. Yes, he definitely was at the right door.

Again he made his way to the door, pondering if he should ring a second time. His musings were unnecessary for just as he was about to pull the handle, he heard the soft tapping of hobbit feet and silent pleas not to open the door.

Nevertheless the door opened, if only slowly, and before him stood his old friend Bilbo - there was no trace of the little one though. The dwarf smiled but that smile quickly faded when he noticed that the hobbit before him was just as stunned as the little one had been, when he opened the door earlier. Somehow he began to feel uncomfortable. Why was everybody looking at him with so much disbelieve in their eyes? He was at the right door after all.

Suddenly Balin noticed that he was still wearing his hood, drawn deeply into his face to shield his eyes from the rain. He threw it back, the smile returning to his face. Surely Bilbo would recognise him now.

The dwarf was not mistaken for the shocked expression left his friend's face and made way to both, excitement and disbelief. "Balin," the hobbit whispered not taking his eyes off him.

"At your service!" Balin answered bowing deeply.

Bilbo gazed at his old friend in surprise. He didn't know who he had expected when Frodo came running to him, but it was no dwarf, especially not one as dear to him as Balin. Yet, it made all sense. Frodo had never seen a dwarf before and for him his friend must be looking quite scary. "At yours and your family's!" Bilbo answered bowing, suddenly remembering his manners. A grin crossed his face and he briskly moved aside to wave his friend in. "Come in, come in, Balin, my friend. I'm sorry for this unusual greeting but--," he paused. He could explain everything afterwards. First he had to make sure his guest was warm and comfortable.

Frodo, who had been watching everything closely, was even more surprised when he heard who the stranger was. Could it really be? Frodo doubted the stranger's identity and yet, why should he not be who he pretended? Suddenly Bilbo moved away to allow the stranger to enter the smial. Frodo inhaled sharply and dashed after his uncle, seeking shelter behind him and clutching his hand fearfully. Even if this was Balin he remained big and broad and scary.

Gladly accepting the invitation Balin stepped into the smial, just when Frodo hurried to take cover behind his uncle. Now, that was where he had been hiding all the while. The dwarf grinned. "And who would you be, little one?"

The young hobbit pressed himself against his uncle's legs, hoping to thus escape the dwarf's eyes. To his utter distress Bilbo moved aside and pushed him forward which Frodo grudgingly allowed though he stood stark and stiff when he deemed the distance between himself and the dwarf close enough. "Come on, my boy," Bilbo encouraged, closing the door, "introduce yourself. You're not that shy usually, either."

Swallowing, the child looked at his uncle seeking help - but Bilbo did do nothing and thus Frodo turned to gaze at the stranger again. Well, the dwarf didn't look as if he was going to harm them - expect for his enormous size and the boots that is, those looked quite scary. In the dim light of the hall Frodo could have a closer look at the one, who was obviously going to stay for a while. He was wearing big, leathery boots, such as Frodo hadn't even seen his Buckland relatives wearing, which were covered with mud and dirt as was to be expected with that stormy weather all day. Apparently Balin had been travelling long. Apart from his size the dwarf looked rather friendly though he seemed very, very old - his long white beard definitely contributing its share.

"Frodo," the lad finally stammered, "Frodo Baggins at your service!" He indicated what should probably have been a bow, but was too taken with the sight of the dwarf, he couldn't take his eyes off him.

Balin grinned broadly bowing low his hand on his breast. "At yours and your family's, little master!" Handing his cloak to Bilbo the dwarf looked shamefaced at the dirty spots on the ground. "I am sorry. I should have removed them outside."

Frodo was impressed by the formality of the dwarf's greeting. Never had anybody besides Master Gamgee called him 'little master', a name he could, by all means, take to, let alone bowed before him. Anyway, the doubtful feeling towards his uncle's guest lingered and Frodo involuntary took a step backwards to his uncle, but unfortunately Bilbo left the hall just in that moment, telling Balin, who had in the meantime removed his boots, to follow him. Frodo hurried along the dim lit hallway and grabbed Bilbo's hand, though his uncle hardly paid any heed - he was busy talking to his guest.

~*~*~

"And he is really the same Balin as the one who travelled with you?"

"That he is," Bilbo answered and the candle in his hands flickered as he swiftly walked down into the cellar, Frodo hurrying after him. He had already offered his guest some tea and a proper dinner and now, two hours later, they were both in for something stronger - something like a bottle of Old Winyards. "You were quite close-lipped all evening," Bilbo observed concerned, slowing down a bit and taking the lad's hand. "Are you all right? I hope you don't see Balin as a monster anymore."

"Well," Frodo answered hesitating, though a smile was playing on the corner of his lips, "he is certainly no monster but…," and there he paused casting his eyes down. He sighed, feeling warmth reaching his cheeks and ears, and met Bilbo's gaze again. "He is different from how I imagined him to be."

A smile crossed Bilbo's lips. The tone in Frodo's voice had contained neither disappointment nor joy. It did not reveal his feelings and yet it was full of emotion. Yet again he felt how much he loved the lad and it almost frightened him that Frodo could move him so much with a simple statement that hadn't even anything to do with him. "Are you unhappy now that you know Balin?" He couldn't help but to ask him and Frodo seemed willing to answer for his reply followed close.

"No," he paused again lowering his eyes. "Well, I don't know. He is just different, but I can't tell in which way. Why is that so, Uncle Bilbo?"

The child's gaze met Bilbo's again. The flickering light of the candle was reflected in the now dark blue eyes filled with embarrassment and concern. "I don't know, my lad," Bilbo answered laying a comforting hand on his nephew's shoulder. "When we are told about people we don't know we picture them in our minds and when we actually come to meet them we're often disappointed because the picture in our minds doesn't fit the one we are meeting. At times we are also surprised in a positive way that the person differs from the image we have made ourselves and sometimes we don't remember the image at all once we have the pleasure to meet pictured someone."

They reached the wine shelf and Frodo stood silently thinking, while Bilbo searched for the right bottle. Finally he looked up again. "I guess I don't remember my image of Balin at all," he answered, his voice slightly concerned. "Is it very bad if I don't?"

"Not at all," the old hobbit explained, ruffling the child's curls and taking his hand again once he had found the bottle he was looking for. He did not have to say anything else for Frodo was not paying him any heed. The lad was looking into a dark corner, his eyes staring blindly into the darkness. "Everything all right?" Bilbo asked curiously but, if he was concerned he worried needlessly for Frodo was smiling again when he looked at him and they quickly went back to their guest.

Frodo made himself comfortable beside his uncle, listening eagerly to the conversation though he could hardly follow it. Many names he already knew were mentioned, such as Bard, the old King of Dale. Balin told that he believed Bard's son, Bain, would soon be made King though nothing was arranged yet. Frodo also learned many things of Dàin, the King under the Mountain and of the comings and goings in the area around the Lonely Mountain.

Ever and anon Balin's gaze wandered to the young hobbit sitting beside his friend while he and Bilbo exchanged the latest news of the Mountain and the Shire. Bilbo had quickly assured him that Frodo was not his son but his nephew, or rather his cousin. "A curious little fellow from the look in his eyes, though a bit shy he is," Balin thought as he observed the lad's eyes growing wide at the mention of Dale and the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo surly didn't miss telling the child about his adventures. He winked at the boy and chuckled, which caused Frodo's already rosy cheeks to blush and the child quickly hid his face sheepishly behind his uncle's arm.

Bilbo grinned from one ear to the other. Balin certainly impressed his young nephew for he had never known the boy to be so close-lipped and shy, except when he was very tired. Without further warning Bilbo's grin expanded into a laugh. Now, that was the reason for all the silence after two days of talking almost non-stop. It was high time for Frodo to go to bed. Noticing the puzzled looks he earned from Balin and his nephew Bilbo's laughter died to a chuckle and soon his amusement passed entirely. "I fear, Balin, my friend, we have to take leave of my little nephew now," he explained.

Frodo immediately turned to him, his face a mask of shock. "I'm not tired!" he protested. "Please, Uncle Bilbo, let me stay. We can make an exception. I am allowed to stay up late tonight and I promise I will go to bed early tomorrow. Please, Uncle Bilbo!" The young hobbit captured Bilbo's left hand in both of his and gazed deeply, almost piercingly into his uncle's eyes. He just had to allow it.

Deep blue eyes pleadingly resting upon him were almost as much as Bilbo could bear. He sighed and closed his eyes. If he yielded now Frodo would try the same trick tomorrow and before he knew it Frodo would have his will every evening. No, he mustn't give in.

The fire in the hearth flickered as Bilbo opened his eyes again and locked on to Frodo's gaze. The young hobbit quickly realised that he had lost and lowered his eyes grumbling. "Wash yourself and change your clothes. I will come to you later," Bilbo said and Frodo slipped grudgingly down the sofa disappearing in the hall.

Balin grinned from one ear to the other. "You didn't succumb to Smaug that easily."

"I did not succumb," Bilbo told him offended but a smile was playing on the corner of his lips.

"Just not, I daresay," Balin answered before bursting into a fit of laughter which Bilbo quickly joined.

Frodo listened to their laughter, sulkily dipped his hands into the washbasin and splashed the cool water into his face. Only the light of a candle Frodo had taken with him from the parlour lit the bath room casting long, dark shadows on the wall. As soon as he was gone they were joking and having fun. That was not fair and, come to that, why couldn't he stay up longer? It would only be for tonight, he had after all promised to go to bed early and he would certainly keep that promise if only he could stay up longer this day. "I'm finished," he called sullenly as he headed to Bilbo's bedroom where he quickly put on his nightgown.

When Bilbo entered the room shortly afterwards Frodo sat on the bed wearing a sullen expression and grumpily messed around with the coverlets. The candle on the nightstand illuminated only one half of his face, the other was in darkness. "Why?" he asked, his eyes even more demanding than his voice.

If Bilbo hadn't known that Frodo was only five he would have thought him much older from the look in his eyes. For a moment he could perfectly imagine him rebuking some rascally children wouldn't it be he who was the child. "Because it is late and you need your sleep," Bilbo answered shortly, taking the blanket from the boy's hands and waiting for him to crawl into the bed.

Apparently Frodo had other plans for he did not move an inch staring directly into his uncle's face. "I can sleep tomorrow, I told you so. So, why are you having fun out there while I have to wait for sleep - which won't come when you are laughing," he declared matter-of-factly and Bilbo quickly realised that Frodo must have gone through this conversation beforehand.

"I know you promised," Bilbo answered calmly. He mustn't make a mistake now or Frodo would twist him round his little finger within a moment. "And I don't doubt you would keep it, but--," he paused, Frodo's expectant eyes still resting upon him. "--but Balin and I have some things to talk over and we wouldn't like to bore you with our conversation."

"You didn't sound bored after you sent me away," Frodo answered sullenly, crossing his hands before his chest. "Besides, I like all this talk about the Lonely Mountain and all."

"I don't doubt that," the old hobbit answered, deliberately ignoring Frodo's first comment. "Yet we have exchanged all there is to exchange about the comings and goings at the Mountain."

The child sighed and Bilbo needed all his willpower not to snicker. Had he defeated him? "Can I stay up tomorrow?"

He had succeeded. "We shall see," he replied. "Now to bed with you."

Another sigh escaped Frodo's lips as he reluctantly snuggled into the pillows. Bilbo tucked him into the blankets and kissed his brow. "Good night, my lad."

"Good night," the child answered and turned over while Bilbo already headed for the door. "Uncle Bilbo…" The old hobbit turned around, his eyebrow raised questioningly. "Tomorrow."

~*~*~

The strong smell of pipe-weed filled the parlour and mingled with those of wine and the low burning fire in the hearth. Bilbo and Balin sat beside the fireside in Bilbo's comfortable armchairs, smoking, drinking and talking like old friends always do after a long time of being parted. Thick smoke was hovering above their heads always being enriched with new artfully blown smoke rings. Outside the rain clouds had passed and the stars glimmered brightly on the night sky.

"Well," Balin went on in his report about the reason for his visit to the Shire, "you know Thorin had made a home in exile east of the Ered Luin before we came to meet you and went out to fight Smaug. There are still some scattered dwarves roaming the area around Lhûn and the Ered Luin. Some have even come to the Tower Hills and sent news to Dàin. Rumour has it that ore could be found there and that's why I am on my way to the Tower Hills. Some dwarves are investigating the possibility of mining in that area. I shall look at the doings myself and then return with tidings to Dàin. If we find any nameable resources there might be some dwarves living in the Tower Hills again."

Bilbo sighed, laying his pipe down. "I wish I could accompany you, Balin, my friend. I would very much like to travel with a dwarf again. Yet, I fear, it will not be possible. Frodo is staying for the entire week and he is too young to walk such a distance."

Balin nodded. "I will visit you again, when I return to the Lonely Mountain. Maybe you could accompany me then, only as far as Bree, of course - and only if Frodo is at home again."

Sighing once again, Bilbo nodded knowing very well that this would be the best decision. Yet he could not think of anything else than to be off with Balin. He could take Frodo with him, couldn't he? For the child it would be an adventure, just like when he went off more than thirty-three years ago. It wouldn't be a long journey either. They would accompany Balin as far as Waymoot, spend the night there and then return back home the day after tomorrow.

A smile crept over his lips and Bilbo took up his pipe again leaning back in his armchair. "My friend, I think we're coming along with you anyhow."