Chapter Nine: Another Guest

The evening was getting late. The rolling hills of the Shire were shimmering in a golden light when Frodo stumbled along Bywater Road. The long walk of the day before had left its traces and though Bilbo walked slowly he soon realised that Frodo was tiring swiftly. The child was grumpy, moaning unceasingly, which Bilbo would not have imagined after the delightful afternoon in the cart. Yet, he found himself longing for his home as well, having his legs put up and smoking a quiet pipe by the fireside. He was sure Hamfast had everything prepared already.

Frodo unexpectedly stopped, his dark hair glistening like embers in the light of the sinking sun, his deep blue eyes gazing sadly on a path leading north-east, where he lived with his parents. He suddenly felt an overwhelming need to go to them, to hug them and be with them. "When can I go home again?" he asked mirthlessly turning to look at his uncle.

Bilbo felt a sting in his heart at his nephew's question. Was he so longing to be home again? He could not blame him, after all it had not been the perfect two days for a five-year-old like him. "As soon as they are better your parents will come for you," Bilbo assured the boy placing his hand on the little one's shoulder. Frodo nodded, as if he had already known the answer, which Bilbo was sure he had. "Come, I shall carry you the rest of the way."

Frodo's face lit up just a bit as Bilbo lifted him onto his shoulder and walked on. He flung his arms around his uncle's neck and rested his chin on his head watching the hobbits on the road. Some greeted him and Bilbo, some just walked by probably still pondering over today's or tomorrow's work and some - mostly young girls still in their tweens or just of age - were too busy chattering and giggling as they walked by as to notice the two weary travellers.

Now that he did not have to walk anymore Frodo fell back into his usual chattering, informing his uncle about his observations and telling him his random musings. "Why are you so fond of walking?" he suddenly asked after a short pause.

Bilbo chuckled to himself. He should have known that the thought of walking would not let go of Frodo easily. "Because it keeps me fit and I get to know new and secret places."

Pondering that for a moment Frodo buried his chin in his uncle's curls. "We haven't seen any secret places on our journey," Frodo declared. A long silence followed in which Frodo's brow creased thoughtfully. "Is it very important to be fit?"

"Well, I think so, but you can stay fit with other things but walking as well," Bilbo assured with a wink. "You have helped Master Hamfast in the garden the day you arrived. That's a very effective way to keep fit as well."

A smile appeared on the child's face and he lifted his head again. "Then I will be a gardener when I'm grown up," he chuckled, "and I shall make sure that there's a pond in Bag End's garden with lots of tadpoles!"

Bilbo laughed out loud gently twitching the child's feet which made him squeal. "You little rascal!"
As they walked round the last turn so that they could see the top of Bag End's roof, a cool but gentle breeze tickled their faces. Bilbo welcomed the fresh wind as he was beginning to feel that Frodo had grown and was not a toddler anymore. Sweat glimmered on his forehead as he walked up the path to his home. Frodo stretched on his shoulders to see further ahead, but suddenly he jerk as if somebody had punched him. "What is it?" Bilbo asked concerned.

"There's someone sitting on the bench in front of the smial," Frodo told him, his voice a mere whisper. He looked suspiciously to both sides, his fingers clinging tightly to Bilbo's cloak as he shrank until he could almost hide his head behind Bilbo's. "It's no hobbit."

Bilbo frowned, getting a tighter hold of Frodo's legs. The child was squirming nervously while he tried to hide behind him despite the fact that he had only Bilbo's head to shield his whole body from whatever stranger was sitting on the bench in front of Bag End. Who could be waiting for him there? If it were Hamfast, or maybe his oldest son Hamson, Frodo would not have reacted so haggardly and would definitely have recognised them as hobbits. He broke into a run, his curios mind defeating his tired legs.

Frodo bumped up and down as his uncle hurried up the hill. Carefully he peeked forth from behind his uncle's head. "He wears a pointy hat," he observed then added, "like the one you said Gandalf would be wearing."

Bilbo stopped short and Frodo had to steady himself not to fall from his uncle's shoulders. "Gandalf?" Bilbo called and a grin appeared on his face.

Hushing his uncle Frodo shrank again. "I don't know. It's just that the pointy, grey hat reminded me of him." He bent down so that his chin rested on Bilbo's shoulder and whispered into his uncle's ear. "Could it really be him?"

"Frodo," Bilbo began matter-of-factly, the cold wind tousling his hair. "You say the person wears a pointy hat." A fierce nod beside him acknowledged him that he was right. "And you also say that this person is no hobbit - probably because he is taller than a hobbit?" A short pause in which Frodo carefully sat up to have a peek at the stranger in front of Bag End; then another nod; "So, who else could it be?"

"I don't know," Frodo admitted, his voice still only a whisper. "We should be careful anyhow. Maybe it's… it's…," Frodo's breath tickled Bilbo's neck and the old hobbit could feel Frodo's body trembling. "A monster," he confessed, his voice shaky, "sent by a dragon to spy on you."

The loud laugh of Bilbo that followed the comment made Frodo jump. "O, you silly lad," Bilbo said within snickers. "Your mother is right. There are far too many stupid ideas in your head."

The child looked shaken. How could Bilbo make fun of it, after all he was being serious. What made his uncle so sure that there was no monster waiting for him? Could he prove it? He arrived at the decision that Bilbo could not. After all he, Frodo, was the one who had heard the many stories and knew every monster that could possibly appear. The fact that he had heard most of the stories he knew from Bilbo, the child left deliberately aside.

Bilbo hurried up the hill despite Frodo's warning, the fresh wind blowing into their faces. From afar Bilbo recognised Gandalf already, but as he pushed open the garden door and wanted to greet his old friend his concerned nephew got in first. "Are you a wizard or a dragon's spy?" he called from Bilbo's shoulder.

The old man with the grey cloak sitting on Bag End's bench and smoking a pipe, rose to his feet and slowly turned around observing in a low, melodic voice that he was certainly not the latter.

Frodo sucked in his breath, his eyes growing wide. With a desperate plucking at Bilbo's cloak he motioned the old hobbit that he wanted to be taken down, being for a moment unable to speak. The size of the person before him - not yet Gandalf, but at least no dragon's spy - was completely unbelievable. He was at least trice the size of Bilbo if one reckoned the hat he wore as well and for Frodo he looked more like a monster than the friendly and helpful wizard Bilbo had told him about.

To Frodo's relief his uncle obliged and put him on the ground again, where the child swiftly took his chance to hide behind his uncle's legs, just as he had done two days ago when he had first met Balin. From down here the man looked even taller than before. Frodo swallowed hard, his small hand in desperate search for Bilbo's which he grasped tightly once he had found it.

Gandalf smiled as he saw the scene before him. The huge eyes of the child were resting upon him, tensely waiting for him to move, while Bilbo patted him reassuringly on the shoulder to take away the fear that was written clearly on the little one's face.
"Good evening, Gandalf," Bilbo piped up turning to face him. "I'm sorry. You must excuse the unusual greeting. It seems to be a week full of unexpected things to happen."

"That I see, my friend," the wizard observed not taking his eyes from the child who seemed to be unsure if he should hide behind Bilbo or allow his curiosity to take the better of him. His cheeks shimmered red in the light of the almost sunken sun that was reflected in his eyes like a flame would be reflected by the sea. Gandalf remembered how Bilbo had told him about a child with eyes blue as the sea on his last visit almost four years ago. "You must be Bilbo's cousin Frodo, are you?"

Gandalf. That was how his uncle had called him and though the stranger had not said that he was a wizard, Frodo believed him - not only because he knew his name, a fact that should be examined more closely later. He looked too much alike to the Gandalf Bilbo had mentioned in his stories. The wizard, with his grey cloak and hat, with bushy eyebrows, a long grey beard and - what was the most obvious prove for Frodo - the staff, a long brown stick leaning beside the bench where Gandalf had been sitting.

Bilbo had bent down to him when he had so desperately tried to hide from the wizard, comforting him and reassuring him that Gandalf was no-one to be afraid of, just like Balin. He was still very nervous, the height of the wizard still reminding him more of a monster than of anything else, but he had looked into his eyes, eyes that were - though hidden by bushy eyebrows - kind and friendly. No monster would have eyes like this. "Are you the Gandalf?" Frodo finally dared to ask his heart being in his mouth. He paused looking for support in Bilbo's eyes and tightening his grip on his uncle's hand before facing the wizard again. "I mean, the same Gandalf Uncle Bilbo told me of and the same Gandalf of which Balin spoke?"
Frodo had flushed to a deep red by now but in the light of the sinking sun nobody could see it. He was fumbling with his uncle's fingers, loosening and tightening his grip on Bilbo's hand he was holding with both of his own by now. "Are you?" he asked again when Gandalf did not answer at once, though his voice was very shaky and just above a whisper. Had the wind not blown into the wizard's direction he would probably not have heard the hesitant words.

"I guess I am the one you have heard of," Gandalf answered with a wink of his eyes. "Though I wonder how Balin could have spoken of me. Has he been here lately?" Gandalf looked questioningly at Bilbo, but the old hobbit waved his hand.

"Let us talk about everything inside, Gandalf, my friend. I'm sure you have had a long journey and so have we. My feet are tired and my belly is hungry. We shall discuss everything after supper with a pipe of Old Toby beside the hearth."

That was a suggestion appealing to everyone of them, especially Frodo whose stomach grumbled loudly at the mention of supper. Still holding Bilbo's hand the child followed the old hobbit inside the smial though he kept looking over his shoulder so not to lose sight of Gandalf. His eyes grew wide as the wizard stooped to enter the small hobbit-hole. Though Bilbo had often told him about it, Frodo had always thought it impossible that one so tall would fit into Bag End, but obviously it was no problem as long as one kept the beams on the ceiling in mind, which Gandalf carefully tried to circumvent.

~*~*~

"I expect you to be clean even behind your ears, young mud lark," Bilbo waved his finger threateningly at the child who was standing beside a wash basin in the bathroom and was busy brushing a sponge over face, arms and hairy feet.

Frodo rolled his eyes, mumbling an impatient "Yes, Uncle Bilbo" and scrubbed his arms with more eagerness to make sure his uncle believed him. The old hobbit nodded contently, ruffled the boy's curls and stepped out of the bathroom.

A fire was burning in the small hearth on the opposite side of the room plunging the chamber into a warm, comforting light. Hamfast had obviously believed at least one of them would be taking a bath when they were home. Probably that would indeed have been the case had Gandalf not been sitting in front of the smial. Gandalf. Frodo could hardly believe his luck. First he had met Balin and now Gandalf the wizard was sitting in the parlour of Bag End. This was a week full of tales coming true. An excited prickle had spread itself in Frodo's belly and the child could hardly stand still since the moment Bilbo had led him into the bathroom to wash and change clothes.

Of course, he could not be done fast enough with this matter. The child was all too eager to go back into the parlour to admire their new, and enormously tall, guest. As soon as Frodo could not hear Bilbo pacing about in the hall anymore, he threw the sponge into the wash basin, put off his breeches - his shirt he had already cast into the laundry basket when Bilbo was still with him, to make sure he did not forget to wash - and jumped into his nightgown.

"You're going rather fast, my lad," that was Bilbo's voice and Frodo froze in his movements. "I doubt your feet and face are clean already."

"I am swift!" Frodo declared turning round to face his uncle. He had his head tilted just a little so not to wake any doubts as he peered at his uncle innocently.

Bilbo leaned in the doorway one half of his face lit by the fire in the hearth and gave his nephew a look that told him he should not take him for a fool. Frodo was acquainted with that gaze and lowered his eyes immediately, knowing that he had lost. "But, there is Gandalf sitting in our parlour," he observed sulkily, shifting his weight impatiently from one feet to the other.

"Yes," Bilbo answered flatly, "and the sooner your feet and face - and ears, mind me - are clean, the sooner you can go and see him."

Frodo moaned, but hurried back to the wash basin to pick up the sponge again. Shaking his head Bilbo left the bathroom and started for the kitchen. He had already fetched the last four eggs from the pantry, as he had decided to make some pancakes. "A very cunning lad he is. If you don't keep an eye on him all the time, he will trick you within seconds."

"Frodo?" asked Gandalf, who was sitting on one of the chairs, when Bilbo re-entered the kitchen.

"Yes, he was about to come to us without washing," Bilbo replied still shaking his head. "I guess he has left most of his reserve behind, now that he has already met Balin. So, don't expect having a quiet time while you're here. Frodo's not only cunning but also very inquisitive - not to mention talkative!" He smiled at Gandalf with a wink of his eye then busied himself with the preparation of the pancake pastry.

"So Balin has been here?"

"We accompanied him to Waymoot. He left the inn in the morrow heading for the Tower Hills. Seems as if some dwarves are investigating the possibility of mining in that area. Dàin sent him to see if there were any nameable resources."

Gandalf pondered those words for a moment, the light of the kitchen hearth illuminating his thoughtful face. Hamfast had lit a fire in almost every room of Bag End, making sure his master and his little guest would not be freezing and had everything they needed. Bilbo had even found a small pot of stew on the kitchen table, no doubt yet another little present of Mrs. Gamgee to make sure Frodo would have enough and decent food.

Taking the teapot from the fire and putting on the stew Bilbo filled his friend a cup full of it before turning his attention to the pancakes. The light of the sun had faded in the meantime and beside the fire there was only the glow of a lamp hanging above the stove to light the room.

"I doubt that they will find much there," Gandalf finally said taking a sip of his tea. Bilbo just shrugged and said nothing, being almost sure that the wizard was right, though he would have loved to have dwarf settlements so close to his home.
"I am clean!" Frodo announced as he entered the room, giving his uncle a long, sullen look. "I'm almost sparkling." Then, seeing Gandalf sitting in the kitchen despite his assumption that the wizard was in parlour, he gasped staring at the wizard in amazement. Gandalf did not wear his hat anymore which now hung on a peg in the hall, the long wooden staff leaning right beside it. Frodo had spent some moments admiring the wizard's belongings before he had come into the kitchen.

There he stood now, for the moment unable to speak or even move, gazing wide-eyed at the wizard. The prickle in his belly had returned and Frodo felt like bouncing with joy. Yet he did not move an inch, for there was still another feeling in his stomach. It was not exactly fear - after his first meeting with Balin he did not believe that Bilbo would belie him and that Gandalf was in fact an evil monster - but it was a feeling very close to it. Frodo stood in awe of their guest. He was, after all, a wizard and could at least strike blue light on the end of his staff. After all that was what Bilbo had told the child and Frodo was now, more than ever, willing to believe every word of it.

Carefully Frodo walked over to the table, without taking his eyes off Gandalf even for a second. "Are you," he took a deep breath to gather all his courage. "Are you going to stay?"

Gandalf smiled at the little one who was so closely observing him. "Yes, at least for tonight, I am."

"Oh," was all Frodo answered as he climbed onto the corner seat - at the far end of Gandalf, no need to take a risk. Yawning he added "You can have the room Uncle Bilbo has prepared for me, because I am sleeping in his room." The child looked questioningly at his uncle to make sure he was saying the truth and Bilbo would not suddenly abandon him, but the old hobbit nodded.

"That's very kind of you," Gandalf replied and if he would have wanted to say more he could not add it, for Frodo interrupted him.

"Can you sleep in our beds? I mean, you're so tall and--," Frodo paused in his babblings and a grin appeared on his face. "You're shrinking, aren't you? Shrinking, so that you fit into a hobbit-sized bed?"

Gandalf and Bilbo both broke into a laugh. "I'm certainly not shrinking, my dear hobbit," Gandalf said and Bilbo added. "He will sleep on the floor, as always. And I will arrange as many blankets as I can find to make him comfortable."

Frodo lifted an eyebrow and looked at his uncle with a somewhat disappointed expression. That was a far more un-magical way of sleeping than he had expected. There was nothing spectacular in sleeping on the floor. Frodo watched Gandalf from the corner of his eye as the wizard talked to his uncle again. To tell the truth Gandalf did not look very magical either. Maybe he was a special wizard who hid all his immense powers? Or, maybe he had no power at all - except for the blue light striking on the end of his staff that is?

And there was another matter. Gandalf had known his name though they had never met before. Frodo was just about to ask the wizard out about his secret powers when Bilbo put a plate with pancakes on the table and his attentions were drawn to the food. The child's stomach grumbled loudly. He had, after all, not eaten since teatime and that was now hours ago. His questions could wait - first there was a more urgent need that needed to be taken care of. Greedily he reached out for one of the cakes but Bilbo slapped his fingers. Startled Frodo looked at his uncle who reminded him that the pancakes were still hot and that he had to wait until their guest had his plate filled. "Guests are always first, my lad, mind that."

To Frodo's relief it did not take long for Bilbo to fill Gandalf's plate and the old hobbit soon piled up pancakes on his own which the child eagerly held out. They ate in silence, all three of them being busy emptying and refilling their plates. Frodo especially grew uncommonly quiet - usually being one to not even stop chattering while having a meal, least not when there was a guest he could pester with questions.

When he had finished his supper, Bilbo smiled lovingly at the child whose eyes were dropping closed even while eating. Frodo blinked drowsily, suppressing a yawn when he felt Bilbo's gaze upon him sneaking a glance at the old hobbit to make sure his uncle did not notice. "I'm not tired," he declared when he noticed his uncle's knowing expression. Frodo had his eyes wide open, but his body betrayed him for he could not stifle another yawn and had difficulties in opening his eyes again once they fell closed.

Bilbo nodded. "Come, I shall bring you to bed."

"But," the child protested half-heartedly as Bilbo lifted him onto his arms. "Gandalf."

"I will still be here tomorrow," the wizard promised wishing the child a good night.

Frodo leaned his head on Bilbo's shoulder as the old hobbit carried him into his bedroom. Once they had left the dim light of the kitchen and walked into the dark hall Frodo could keep his eyes open no longer and was almost asleep when Bilbo tucked the blankets about him and kissed his brow. Bilbo sat for a moment on Frodo's bed and once again he felt his heart warm with love for his nephew.