Chapter Ten: Powerful Wizard

7. Forelithe 1374

He woke early in the morning. It was not that the bed Bilbo had prepared was uncomfortable - quite the contrary! It was far more comfortable than anything he had slept on the past few months, but Gandalf had always been one to rise early. He stretched his back as he walked down the hallway and into the parlour where he kneeled down by the fireside and rekindled the glowing embers. Long had Bilbo and he been sitting beside the fire the evening before and had talked about past adventures and the comings and goings outside the Shire. Bilbo was always eager to learn the news from beyond the borders of his land and Gandalf was willing to tell them - at least parts of them.

The sun had not even risen and there was only a pale shimmer on the eastern sky announcing that the new day was not too far anymore. Gandalf sat in one of Bilbo's armchairs in the living room and closed his eyes for a moment. He loved the peace and quiet of Bag End. The hobbit-hole had become a place of rest for him, a place where he could forget about his worries for a few hours. His eyes caught sight of Sting hanging above the mantelpiece. It was a good place for a sword that would probably never be used again.

A log was swallowed by the flames and an odd crackle filled the room. But there was something else. Gandalf's brow creased as he slowly turned around. Eyes, hidden by a mop of dark brown hair rested upon him curiously. Frodo stood in the doorway, his right hand resting on the doorframe and his nightgown, which probably had been white once but was now more of a greyish colour glimmered red in the light of the fire. Frodo's head was hidden in shadow but Gandalf could see that the curly hair was tousled with dark curls going into every direction. "Good morning," he greeted the child.

A smile appeared on the still somnolent face and Frodo slowly scuffed to Gandalf's side, his curious eyes shimmering delightedly in the dim light. "Good morning," the young hobbit greeted. "Have you slept well?"

"That I have," Gandalf said with a smile. "I have not had such a good night's rest in months."

Frodo frowned. "Why are you up then already?"

"I have never been one to sleep long," the wizard explained and Frodo was disappointed to see that there would not be another, longer answer.

He looked at the wizard for a moment wondering if he might say more or asked some questions of his own, but Gandalf did not seem one to ask many questions and so Frodo climbed into an armchair next to his new guest. The child was almost sinking in the soft cushions of the chair and Frodo snuggled against the soft cover of the furniture. Once he was comfortable, he stared at the wizard again suddenly remembering his questions from the former evening but not yet awake enough to ask them.

Gandalf, gazing into the flames, was beginning to feel uncomfortable under the watchful eyes of the child and shifted his weight. The fire crackled and the shadow of the flames danced on the wall and the faces of the two unlikely people. He looked at the child from under his bushy eyebrows. "Are you always piercing strangers with your eyes?"

Frodo blushed furiously, heat rising from his neck to the tip of his ears. He shook his head tentatively. "Not always," he stammered shyly lowering his head only to lift it again a moment later, "only if it is somebody of particular interest."

"And you think I am of particular interest."

The child nodded vigorously, his eyes shining. "You're a wizard."

Gandalf's eyebrow rose in cognition and a smile stole across the grave face. "Now, how could I forget about that? Go on then, what do you want to know? And don't tell me there is nothing you want to ask. I can see it in your eyes that there are at least three questions you want me to answer."

Gandalf could not know that he was going to regret those words. Alas, how should he have known about the inquisitiveness of this particular hobbitlad? Once the first tentative steps were taken nobody could stop the young Baggins from asking whatever question or telling whatever nonsense that came to his mind. Bilbo had warned him after all and now he, Gandalf, walked straight into his first day without rest in Bag End.

Frodo's questions were many, beginning with how the wizard knew his name without him telling it first. The fact that Gandalf only knew about it because Bilbo had told him earlier was rather humble and in Frodo's opinion absolutely not magical.

Magic. Gandalf soon found out that this was the keyword to Frodo's questions. All his inquiries boiled down to one thing: what kind of powers did he have and how far could they be considered magical. Once Gandalf knew what Frodo was driving at - which did not take very long to find out - he grew rather canny in avoiding certain answers, telling only as much as he had to and skilfully circumventing the facts he did not want the child to know.

Frodo, however, was not easily fooled and soon observed with a knowing glimmer in his eyes that Gandalf was not answering his questions. He was, after all, very practised himself in avoiding answers to certain questions, especially when Mr. Proudfoot's plum tree was involved.

Bilbo was the one to rescue Gandalf from his awkward situation by coming into the room and proclaiming that Frodo was already getting on their guest's nerves even before he had breakfast. Frodo's face took on a deep red immediately but Gandalf ruffled his hair and explained that Frodo was not getting on his nerves but made it his business to keep him entertained until his sluggardy uncle would finally wake up. It was Bilbo's turn to blush at that comment, and Frodo's to giggle.

~*~*~

"You know, we have tadpoles in our pond," Frodo explained and Bilbo almost choked on his tea.

Gandalf looked at the old hobbit with a frown as Bilbo coughed. "I doubt that Gandalf is interested in your tadpoles, my lad."

"Of course he is, aren't you, Gandalf?" Frodo first looked insulted at Bilbo then turned to Gandalf with a hopeful expression.

The wizard raised an eyebrow looking from one face to the other. Bilbo rolled his eyes and shook his head while Frodo's expression was full of hope and joy. "Well," he hesitated, wondering if he could allow himself another mistake like the encouragement of Frodo's unceasing questions. He decided that he could. "Why should I not be interested in them?"

A victorious smile brightened the already sparkling eyes of Frodo. "We have hundreds and hundreds of tadpoles. I found them only minutes before mommy brought me to Uncle Bilbo. I already asked him if he would like to have a pond - and tadpoles, of course - of his own, but he wasn't very pleased about that thought and still isn't. Maybe you could--"

Bilbo sighed and sipped his tea. Yet again he found himself wondering how long it would take his nephew to abandon the thought of both pond and tadpoles in Bag End's garden. He chuckled as he noticed Gandalf's stunned expression bidding him for help. "No, my friend," Bilbo thought and took another sip of his tea, "I have warned you already and you would not listen. I can do no more."

It was now one hour past lunch and Gandalf and Bilbo were sitting on the bench in front of Bag End smoking their pipes and enjoying each other's company. Frodo had been sitting with them at times joining their talks and asking questions of his own. The two old friends talked about many a thing in and outside the Shire but while Frodo was with them their topics were utterly different. The child was the one who decided about what to speak steering the conversation skilfully round to his interests. Of course, the matter of how magical Gandalf, the wizard was, was one of the most important topics though the child was rather disappointed by the answers. Somehow Gandalf's replies where all too logical to be magical as well. Yet, when Gandalf asked him what he meant by a magical answer, Frodo did not know what to say and went back to play with his carved animals in the grass.

Soon, however, the child returned again bringing their conversation back to the topic that seemed most important to him lately. Though Frodo had told Gandalf about his pond already he seemed to be convinced that Gandalf also wanted to know how the pond came into being and - this with a sideways glance to Bilbo - how wonderful it was to have tadpoles too. Bilbo thought that soon half the Shire would know about the tadpoles in the Baggins' pond - and if Gandalf passed the story on half of Middle-earth would as well.

A bee buzzed past them landing on one of Hamfast's white lilies. The gardener had the day off to spend some time with his family. It was a sunny and warm day smelling of flowers and summer. The wind that had caressed the fields and hills of the Shire for days now was still blowing gently though its powers grew less and would soon be all faded to leave the land to the sun's heat.

"Balin's beard is tended better than yours," Frodo told, brushing his fingers through Gandalf's grey beard. He was sitting on the wizard's lap, being as fascinated of Gandalf's beard as he had been of Balin's, fingers combing through the grey strands and curious eyes examining every inch of shaggy hair.

"Is that so?" Gandalf raised an eyebrow. "Well, after all he is a dwarf, isn't he? And I'm not." Gandalf had resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't find any rest in Bag End and was amused by Frodo's merry chatter.

Frodo nodded. "His beard is softer. But don't you worry, Gandalf. In return your hat is much more beautiful than Balin's hood which is rather boring." The wizard laughed and Frodo's eyes lit up, his fingers stopping their constant combing of Gandalf's beard. "Can I play with it?"

"My hat is no toy, my dear hobbit," Gandalf pointed out.

"I know," Frodo declared nodding to show that he really knew what Gandalf wanted to say to him. "It's a wizard's hat and one has to be very careful with it because no wizard is complete without his hat and --" the child's eyes shone even brighter than before as he looked into the wizard's face. "Can it do any magical tricks? Is it a magical hat?"

Bilbo chuckled as Gandalf tousled the lad's dark curls. "I doubt that there is anything magical about the hat. Go then and play with it, but be careful! After all it is a wizard's hat."

Cheering Frodo jumped down from Gandalf's lap and hurried into the hobbit-hole. Bilbo relit his pipe and puffed, his eyes following his nephew. "You make him very happy with your permission to take your hat."

Gandalf smiled and looked down at the party field behind Bag End. "I know."

Frodo rushed into the hallway, his eyes sparkling with joy, his heart pounding with excitement. He, Frodo Baggins, was allowed to wear a wizard's hat! Trembling with excitement he glanced up at the peg where the hat was hanging and reached out his hand, standing on his tiptoes to get hold of it. Carefully he grabbed the hat and pulled it down from the peg to just hold it for a moment. His inquisitive fingers caressed it like they would caress the greatest treasure in the world. The grey garment was soft to the touch and felt very warm. Surely Gandalf would never freeze when wearing it.

A shiver of delight ran through the little hobbit, as he dashed past Gandalf's staff into the garden putting the hat on his head and screaming "Here comes Frodo, the powerful wizard of the Shire!"

As soon as those words were said the hat slipped down Frodo's face until its brim was just underneath the young hobbit's chin. Gandalf and Bilbo laughed and shook their heads. Shooting his two observers an insulted glance Frodo pulled the hat up again and repeated his former outcry, this time without any embarrassing incidents. Yet, as soon as he dashed off in search of an adventure for the new-born wizard the hat slipped down again, covering his entire face so that everything before him went grey.
"Silly lad," Bilbo said shaking his head and laughing. Gandalf chuckled, his eyes following Frodo as the child disappeared on the other side of the garden, wondering how long it would take Frodo to abandon the hat because of its huge size - at least for a hobbitlad.

Frodo, in the meantime, sneaked about the garden telling himself the story of Frodo, the powerful wizard on his adventure to save the world from all evil, be it dragons or burglars or any other mean creatures, like goblins or that slimy Gollum who had threatened his uncle to eat him. Of course, he did not mention that Frodo, the powerful had problems with his hat which kept slipping down and had to be rearranged every three steps.

~*~*~

Frodo hid behind a bush. He had sneaked about the garden for almost two hours and was now near the bench where his uncle and Gandalf were still talking to each other. Frodo wondered what the two of them had to talk about that they could speak for hours without even pausing for a little treat. He himself had allowed his belly such a treat, had sneaked off into the kitchen in the course of storytelling and had secretly eaten one of the leftover pancakes they had had in the morning.

"Frodo sat behind a bush, observing the two goblins talking over their new plan to attack the dwarves that were mining in the mountain. Frodo knew he could conquer them but there was only one way," the child lifted his head sneaking glances to both sides. Lowering his voice he whispered, "He needed his staff."

Casting another glance to his uncle and Gandalf Frodo grabbed for the brim of the wizard's hat and silently dashed off into the other direction running around the smial and then silently disappearing inside. Gandalf could strike blue light on the end of his staff - if he could do the same? Of course he had never seen Gandalf doing anything magical with his staff, but his uncle had and that was all Frodo needed to know. Who knew what great wonders he could work with not only the wizard's hat but also his staff?

Standing in the hallway Frodo found himself staring admiringly at the staff leaning against the wall. It was made of wood and looked rather common, nothing too magical. It was not even specifically curved, but looked just like a regular branch of a tree that had been burnished so Gandalf would not get a splinter into his finger. Yet, although Gandalf had not shown anything magical all day, Frodo was sure everything was camouflage and Gandalf only needed to whisper some words and to swing his staff and everything bad would turn into good.

The heart of the hobbit was pounding fast as he listened intently and glanced stealthily to every side before carefully reaching out for the magical item. He was still wearing Gandalf's hat but had let go of its brim as he was too enchanted by the staff to care for anything else. The world stood still. There was nothing but his pounding heart, his trembling fingers and the staff leaning against the wall. A truly magical moment.

"That's no toy for little hobbits!"

Frodo shrieked, his heart skipping a beat. The stern voice came from nowhere and yet from everywhere at the same time. He felt movements beside him and something brushed his shoulder but he could not see what it was. The hat had slipped down again and covered his head from chin upwards. The world was grey. Whatever thing had touched his shoulder was gone again, there had been a sound of wood hitting wood and the voice still rang in Frodo's frightened ears. He backed away, his bottom hitting something hard, then he stumbled and fell.

He gasped and yelped, desperately trying to get rid of the hat but his shock made him clumsy and he didn't succeed at the first try which frightened him even more. What if the hat had suddenly woken to life and was now trying to capture him - to eat him or turn him into a strange creature like Gollum? Panic seized him and he called for his uncle between desperate shrieks.

Finally he succeeded in getting rid of the hat and with an angry and frightened outcry cast it into the corner and dashed away. Fortunately his uncle was already standing in the doorway, ready to catch and soothe him.

Gandalf was stunned. He had not intended to frighten the little one but obviously he had succeeded in just this. Frodo screamed, bumped against his knee and fell on the floor with a thud and a frightened shriek. All he had wanted was to see if Frodo was not up to any mischief for that Bilbo feared when he noticed that he had not seen his nephew for at least half hour. Gandalf said he would have a look for Frodo inside while Bilbo would walk around the garden. He had seen Frodo right when he came inside, reaching out for his staff and a moment later, after he had regained his staff, Frodo was sitting on the floor fighting with his hat. Gandalf wanted to help him but Frodo got rid of it himself and just in that moment Bilbo appeared in the doorway looking no less paralysed than Frodo did.

Frodo burst into tears as soon as he stumbled into his uncle's arms mumbling incoherent words between hiccupping sobs and sniffs. Bilbo, a dark shadow in the doorway with the sunlight in his back, looked at Gandalf accusingly with eyes that spoke volumes, promising to hurt everybody who hurt Frodo ten times as much.

Gandalf could do nothing but stand idly, watching Bilbo soothing Frodo and waiting for the child to calm. Picking up his hat from the floor he brushed some dust away and hung it on the peg. Maybe allowing Frodo to use his hat had not been a good idea at all. He should have known that young hobbitlads are only up to mischief, especially one as curious as Frodo.

The young hobbit turned to face Gandalf, his eyes glittering with tears. "It tried to turn me into something nasty!" he cried out, stifling a sob and burying his face in his uncle's jacket.

Bilbo had lifted Frodo onto his arm and rocked him gently murmuring soothing words. One of Frodo's small hands clung to his jacket the other to the collar of his shirt. The old hobbit cast a puzzled look at Gandalf, but the wizard could do nothing but shrug. Whether they wished it or not, they had to wait for Frodo to calm and tell them why he was so petrified.

They did not have to wait too long until Frodo calmed enough to tell them about the evil hat which had robbed him the gift of sight and then had threatened him. Bilbo could only frown but Gandalf's confused expression lit up and he could tell both, Bilbo and Frodo what truly had happened. Bilbo was relieved unlike Frodo.
"No more wizards," the child told his uncle leaning against him and wiping his eyes with Bilbo's jacket. For today the lad had had enough of wizards and their queer belongings.