Chapter Six: Of Mice and Young Hobbits

5. Forelithe 1374

The creaking of the drawer wakened Frodo the next morning. He blinked sleepily wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "Mommy?" he mumbled drowsily, for the moment unsure of his surroundings.

"Good morning, my lad," Bilbo greeted from the drawer where he was packing some clothes into his backpack. Laying aside his work he walked over to sit down on the edge of the bed. "Have you slept well?"

Frodo pulled himself up and leaned on his elbows, nodding sleepily. He let his eyes wander across the room and slowly grew aware of where he was. "What are you doing?" Yawning the child laid his head on Bilbo's lap and allowed himself to be snuggled.

The first golden streams of sunlight glimmered through the round window while the old hobbit stroked the child's hair and back and Frodo's eyes fell close again, as he snuggled closer to his uncle and almost drifted back to sleep had Bilbo not broken the oncoming silence with the answer to the child's question. "I was packing some warmer clothes if it should get cooler the following day."

"Clothes?" Frodo murmured turning to look at Bilbo's face through half-closed eyes. He was curious why Bilbo was looking for warmer clothes and yet he enjoyed the silent cuddling so much, he was reluctant to break the atmosphere. Frodo felt for Bilbo's right hand, the one that was not occupied with caressing his back and played with the long, wrinkled fingers.

"Yes," Bilbo answered grinning. "I thought we might accompany Balin a while on the road."

Frodo's fingers immediately stopped their playful movements on Bilbo's hand and his head almost hit the old hobbit's chin as he jerkily got up. "Balin?" he exclaimed voicelessly and all of a sudden he remembered the past evening. How could he forget about that stout dwarf standing on the doorstep? He blinked the last drops of sleep out of his eyes ere breaking into a breathless bubble of questions. "Where is he now? Have you been talking long? What do you mean accompanying him? Where is he going? Where are we going? When will we leave? Is there still time for breakfast?"

Bilbo stopped him so the child would catch some breath again and he could find some time to answer all the questions that had been flooding over him like a wave. "Easy now, my lad," he calmed pulling the child to him and capturing him in a warm hug, for Frodo was on the point of dashing into the parlour to see what had become of Balin. "Right now we are going nowhere and Balin is already having breakfast in the kitchen so, if you wish you can join him right after you have washed and are properly dressed. Concerning your other questions," Bilbo continued, "Balin is going to the Tower Hills and we are coming along with him as far as Waymoot - if your parents allow it, that is."

"They surely will," Frodo quickly answered trying to wriggle from the old hobbit's embrace but to no avail. "Let me…" the boy urged but the end of his sentence was lost in a surprised squeal. Bilbo had pulled him even closer tickling his belly, making him giggle uncontrollably. Between breathless pleas and endless squeals Frodo tried to push Bilbo's treacherous hands away, wriggling and struggling helplessly.

Bilbo enjoyed his young nephew's delight and though he always made sure Frodo could breathe easily he didn't allow him much rest. Only when Frodo's mood changed, his delighted giggling ceased and his expression showed signs of distress, Bilbo stopped.

"Uncle Bilbo!" Frodo scowled at his uncle, pushing away from him. "If you don't let me go I will never see Balin today." He looked for his clothes then suddenly turned to Bilbo with a charming smile on his face and a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "I could have breakfast before I have washed," he told him, his voice sweet as honey.

Bilbo could hardly keep a straight face as he rose to his feet. "No, you can't," he told, took Frodo's clothes from the wooden chest beneath the window and shooed the boy out of the room. "Into the bathroom, you rascal!"

Frodo grudgingly allowed Bilbo to lead him into the bathroom where he washed his face much more properly than he had done the evening before because Bilbo kept telling him the parts he had forgotten, beginning with his neck and ending with his ears. His uncle was almost as meticulous about washing as his mother, who would probably have taken a sponge to rub the back of his neck as well. Frodo sighed quietly. He could not understand why everybody was making such a fuss about washing.

"Can we go and see Balin now?" the child urged while Bilbo kneeled down before him to button up his shirt and comb through his curls for a last time. The lad impatiently pushed Bilbo's hands away and slipped on his braces. "I'm beautiful enough," he declared and headed for the door where he turned again and urged Bilbo to come along.

Bilbo slowly rose to his feet and stretched his back. "Go ahead, lad."

Frodo stopped short his body tensing as he slowly turned to face his uncle. The dim light of the lamp was reflected in the child's eyes that were looking at him doubtfully. "And you aren't coming?" he asked rather uncertain.

Bilbo grinned from one ear to the other. That was exactly the reaction he had expected. Frodo had been way too awed yesterday evening to face Balin all alone today - especially in the morning. Hopefully that would change throughout the day and, in fact, Bilbo was sure it would, considering how much Frodo liked to talk and delighted in the company of others. "Of course, I will," he answered finally, his grin growing even broader as he placed a hand on the lad's shoulder. "I just don't like to be stressed out in the early morning hours."

Frodo stared at him in disbelief. It was a miracle he could keep his mouth shut while wearing an expression of utter incredulity. His eyes spoke volumes and for a moment Bilbo feared the child would burst into an insulted bubble of words. But Frodo said nothing as he tramped along the hall beside his uncle. "I know you only did that to make me angry," he grumbled when they had almost reached the kitchen. Frodo also wanted to complain about how nasty it was of his uncle to deliberately move so slowly although Bilbo knew how much he wanted to see Balin, but he thought it was better to stay silent.

Moreover they had reached the kitchen door and Frodo could see the dwarf sitting on the corner seat beside the window feasting on a richly set table. Balin's stout stature made a perfect contrast to the bright sunlight streaming in from the window while he helped himself filling his plate with sausages, cheese and salted pork. When Balin finally noticed their presence he lifted his head, grinning broadly. "Good morning, little master," he greeted, "Have you slept well?"

Without taking his eyes off the dwarf, Frodo felt for Bilbo's hand but the old hobbit had already gone to the fireside where he took up the teapot and filled two cups. For a moment Frodo pondered hurrying to him to seek shelter behind his uncle's legs like he had done the evening before but then, when he looked at Balin's broad grin again, he couldn't help but answer it.

Bilbo kept an eye on Frodo, as the child shyly advanced to Balin and after some moments dared to sit down beside him. That's that! It would not be long now until Frodo would prattle away.

But before Frodo abandoned his reserve he closely observed every one of Balin's movements as the dwarf went back to eating. Especially the white beard, forked and carefully plaited, fascinated the child and he could not take his eyes off it and had to restrain himself from reaching out his hand and touching it when the sun glimmered in the white strands.

"Will you not eat something?" Bilbo asked, causing Frodo who was so entranced with observing their guest, jump. "I thought you were hungry." Bilbo had seen his guest's growing discomfort under the inquiring eyes of his nephew and felt himself obliged to ease his friend's tension.

Frodo looked at him puzzled and for a moment Bilbo was not sure if the child knew what he had just said, but then he nodded and smiled. "Of course I am," he told him and greedily reached for the cheese.

After Bilbo had slowed down Frodo's eagerness they ate in silence and without any embarrassing observations though Frodo kept sneaking glances at Balin whenever he thought the dwarf (and Bilbo) were not looking.

~*~*~

"Touch it, I won't bite."

Frodo felt heat rising to his cheeks and bashfully lowered his eyes, a shy smile on his face. He did not want to stare at Balin's beard but somehow he could not resist. "Really?" he asked doubtfully.

Balin grinned and handed Bilbo, who was clearing the table, his plate. "Do you think I don't notice how you're looking at me?" Frodo's face and ears were scarlet by now and he mumbled something incomprehensible, glancing over to Bilbo as if seeking his support.

"Touch it," Balin invited again facing the child and leaning over. He grinned from one ear to the other, his long white beard now tickling Frodo's hands that were busy fumbling around with his shirt. "I can see your hands twitch," the dwarf chuckled.

Slowly Frodo lifted his head looking straight into the dwarf's eyes, his own eyes glimmering brightly. His lips curved into a shining smile as he carefully reached out for the dwarf's beard and stroke his fingers over the white hair. "It's soft to the touch," Frodo said, gently combing through the fine hair at the tip of the plaits. "Do all dwarves have soft beards?"

"I think they have," Balin chuckled. "You need to know that the beards are very important for us dwarves and we spend a lot of time tending them."

Frodo giggled as he imagined how long dwarves would need in the bathroom when they had to comb not only the hair on their heads but also their beards. If they were as painstakingly as his mother they would need hours. He could only hope that young dwarves didn't have an uncle who combed through their hair a million of times in the morning.

"It is rather nice to see you smile again," Bilbo said and sat down on a chair.

Looking up to his uncle Frodo's smile widened and he let go of Balin's beard again. "When will we depart?"

"As soon as I have packed everything," Bilbo answered and exchanged a look with his friend who nodded approvingly. "Is there anything you want to take with you, my lad? You won't need much as we will be back tomorrow evening."

"My animals," Frodo declared jumping from the seat and dashing out of the kitchen.

Balin watched him disappear. "I think he's slowly coming out of his shell."

"Wait until he has lost all his reserve." Bilbo grinned and stood up as well. Before they left he had to talk to Hamfast. The gardener should take care of the hole until they returned tomorrow.

~*~*~

Frodo trod along the hallway. He had found all four carved animals - the pony, the pig and the two sheep - and kept them safely in his trouser pocket, where they would remain even when they began their journey with Balin. The boy could hardly wait for their trip to begin - his very own adventure, travelling with Bilbo and a dwarf across the Shire.

As he passed the door to Bag End's wine cellar Frodo suddenly stopped. Had he not heard something strange when he had been in the cellar the other day? In one of the dark corners there had been a rustling and had he not also seen something? The young hobbit felt a cold shiver running down his spine and he shuddered. What had it been? It could not be a dragon, for Bilbo had told him that a dragon would be too big to be inside a hobbithole and besides, the shadow of the thing he had seen had been small. If he could dare to go and look what kind of secret creature lived in Bag End's cellar? No, certainly not alone. Who knew what kind of creature lived in the dark corners deep underneath the earth - however small its shadow was?

A weak draught caressed his cheeks - somebody had opened the front door - and Frodo heard the angry hiss of a flame almost blown out. Alarmed Frodo looked up, a flickering, yellow flame illuminating the fine features of his young face. A lamp, whose light had been disturbed by the soft wind, hung on the wall not far from the cellar door. Frodo remembered that Bilbo had always lit the lamp along the hall in the morning hours and he had got so accustomed to it (his father did the same at home) he didn't even realize it. With a light, of course, he would dare to go into the cellar. He was, after all, five going on six and could very well mange secret creatures lingering in Bag End's cellar. At least he thought he could.

To the child's utter delight Bilbo had a second chest, looking exactly the same as the one he had in his bedroom, standing in the hall preferably right under the lamp. A broad grin appeared on Frodo's face. With that lamp he would go into the cellar and nothing could happen to him - after all he was the one with the light in his hand and from the tales he had heard he knew that no-one bearing a light would ever be attacked by anything ghastly.

Frodo had no problems in climbing the wooden chest and getting the lamp away from its fixture. Taking a deep breath he opened the cellar door hoping very much that the tales told to him were true.

The candle in the lamp flickered illuminating the hallway leading down to the cellar. Frodo went down slowly, listening and always looking if he could spot the creature he had seen the day before. His eyes quickly got accustomed to the darkness and Frodo increased his pace though he kept walking as silently as only hobbits could.

A silent squeak made him freeze, his blood running cold. He was on the point of running back into the hall. Five years or not - that sound frightened him. Probably he would have gone back had his eyes not caught something small under the shelves standing on its hind paws cautiously sniffing the air. A bright smile suddenly lit up the child's face. It was only a mouse and that was certainly nothing to be frightened of - alas, it would even have been embarrassing had he run away from it like a baby.

Slowly Frodo kneeled down holding the lamp in front of him and carefully advanced towards the small animal. Maybe he could catch it. Bilbo would surely be happy when he presented him a mouse that was running wild in his cellar. Frodo could already see Bilbo's surprised but happy face in his mind, though he quickly abandoned the image remembering what had become of the images he had in mind yesterday morning.

Warily Frodo crawled closer to the small animal, but as soon as the mouse sensed his coming closer it squeaked again and flit away. "Wait!" Frodo called and dashed after it, leaving the lamp to stand on the floor while he followed the mouse into the darker corners. He had no problems in pursuing it as his eyes quickly got accustomed to the added darkness.

The mouse disappeared under a shelf and Frodo let himself drop on the ground and peered into the gap between the shelf and the cold stone floor. Sitting on its hind paws and sniffing curiously the mouse stood just beyond his hand's reach and seemed to mock him.

Grumbling Frodo banged his hand on the ground. Somehow he had to shoo it away from under the shelf. He needed some place where he could capture it easily - some place like the corner where he had seen the mouse the day before.

The mouse, startled by Frodo's quick and loud movements, dashed out from underneath the shelf and in its fright jumped over the lad's feet and disappeared in the darkness. Frodo jumped and squealed at the sensation of small feet and a soft tail tickling the sensitive skin around his ankles. Giggling silently he crawled after the mouse again searching feverishly for its new hiding place, always whispering in a calming voice to soothe the fright he had caused the small animal.

~*~*~

Meanwhile Bilbo had returned from his short visit at Bagshot Row - not without many pieces of advice about how careful he had to be when he undertook such a long journey with a young child like Frodo, and a strawberry pie Bell had just baked as provisions - much to the displeasure of her own children. Still, Frodo would be delighted, especially after their mess with their own strawberry cake the day before.

Bilbo quickly packed the last things into his backpack, as Balin came into the hall with his own pack already shouldered. "Ready?" the dwarf asked.

"I'm quite finished," Bilbo nodded, looking around questioningly. Something was missing. "Where's Frodo?" After Frodo had left behind some of his reserve he would have thought the child would not leave Balin's side.

Balin did not even have time to answer for suddenly a terrible, heartbreaking cry echoed through the hobbithole. Something horrible had happened. Bilbo felt all colour vanish from his face as he gasped for breath to find his voice again and call for his nephew. The child's voice had come from somewhere in the back of the hole and that was the direction Bilbo now headed for with Balin right behind him.

The terrible cries were soon replaced by desperate calls for Uncle Bilbo, but the old hobbit still had difficulties finding out where the voice came from. Bilbo could clearly hear the panic and fear in his nephew's voice and it was all he needed to almost panic himself. He hurried headless into every room of his home always calling Frodo's name until Balin suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder and motioned to the cellar door. "He's down there."

Bilbo frowned wondering what Frodo would seek in the wine cellar but then he heard the desperate cries again and, pushing his friend aside he hurried along the hallway fearing the worst. A shelf could have toppled down and buried the child beneath it, or maybe -

Bilbo didn't have to pursue his thoughts any further for in the dim light of the lamp Frodo had left on the floor he could see the boy lying on his stomach in a corner and his hand - Bilbo gasped - disappeared inside the wall. He quickly picked up the lamp and hurried to the child.

Frodo was crying at the top of his lungs, his eyes dark with fear as he desperately tried to free himself from the wall. "I'm pinned," he wailed, his uncle's presence obviously not doing much to calm him. More and more tears streamed down his cheeks while he desperately called for his mother and looked at Bilbo with huge, pleading eyes full of fright.

Balin suddenly appeared beside the old hobbit, who was at the moment totally swamped with the situation. Seeing his young nephew in such a distressed state was too much for him and he needed all his strength not to cry himself. Still, for Balin one short glance was enough and he knew what needed to be done. "It's a mouse hole," he observed and stroke his hands across the crumbly wall just above Frodo's wrist - the rest of the child's hand had disappeared. "I will fetch my chisel and you will be free before you can say Smaug, the dragon."

Frodo looked at the dwarf, his lower lip trembling pitifully. "Smaug, the dragon," he whispered as Balin disappeared and tried to free himself again, but only some crumbs fell onto the ground. Hitching sobs escaped Frodo's lips and some more tears slid down his flushed cheeks, when Bilbo finally found his voice again and gently stroke the child's hair and neck. "Hush, dear. Balin knows what's to do," he soothed and hoped very much that he could trust his own words.

The dim light of the lamp flickered as Balin returned with the chisel and carefully went to work. Cautiously he loosened the crumbs on the wall and though Frodo was all tense and frightened he soon learned that Balin was a master in his craft and, though it took him a bit longer to free the child than he had promised it would take, Frodo was soon free again and flung himself into Bilbo's arms where new tears welled up and stained the old hobbit's travel shirt.

Casting a thankful glance into Balin's direction Bilbo held his boy close and rocked him gently trying to soothe him with soft words as he stroke his hair. Balin meanwhile leaned against the wall and waited for Frodo to calm down. It must have been quite a shock for the boy to suddenly be pinned and he was happy he had been able to help him.

The air was somewhat smelly in the cellar and now that the first shock had passed Bilbo and Balin soon realised that it was not that warm either. Still, there was one question that needed to be answered before they could finally start their journey in the bright sunlight - a thing that seemed almost impossible in the darkness of the cellar. When Frodo had finally calmed and his sobs had ceased Bilbo dared to ask that last question. "What have you been doing here?"

Frodo looked at him with a guilty expression Primula would have known perfectly well. It was the same look Drogo was capable of, though Frodo's eyes made everything worse - or better, depending from which side you were looking at it. "The mouse disappeared in there," the child snivelled, "and I wanted to look where it had gone to."

"Frodo, one looks with ones eyes," Bilbo explained sternly but a smile that was both, annoyed and amused was playing on the corner of his lips.

"I know," the child told him and wiped his eyes with Bilbo's shirt. "But my eyes did not see anything and so I used my hand to at least feel something."

Shaking his head Bilbo sighed and kissed Frodo's forehead. "My dear little lad, you truly have the gift of getting yourself into trouble - just like your father."

Frodo's eyes brightened up as he looked into his uncle's face. "Really? What kind of trouble did he end up in?"

Bilbo ruffled the child's curls. "I will tell you that another time. Now it's high time for us to leave. After all, we have a long journey ahead of us."