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Reunion in Minas Tirith  by Baggins Babe

In Gondor in 1429 SR, Rosie relates the story of Frodo's illness and recovery

November 1427 SR

       That afternoon Rosie went to see the children at the Cotton's farm while Sam sat beside Frodo's bed, happy just to watch his beloved master sleeping. He was still half afraid that Frodo would slip back into unconsciousness and could not quite bring himself to relax. He thought he would never forget the horror of the past few weeks, or the incredible moment that morning when he found Frodo still alive and awake. His eyes strayed over the fine features, pale still but without that terrible greyish tinge, and the lips which now possessed a faint trace of colour. He smiled fondly as the eyelids fluttered, and Frodo was gazing at him.

       "Hello, me dear. I didn't wake you, did I?"

       "No, Sam dear. What are you doing?" His voice was still weak and rather hoarse from lack of use, but he was smiling.

       "Just watching you sleep and thanking the Valar and anyone else I could think of for bringing you home." He leaned closer to hear Frodo's soft voice.

       "Watching me sleep can't be very entertaining for you." He tried to haul himself up on the pillows but could not manage it. Sam lifted him with infinite tenderness, tucking another pillow behind his head and rearranging the covers. "This is silly," he muttered. "Why can't I sit up?"

       "You've been so ill for a long time." He held a cup of weak, sweet tea to Frodo's lips and smiled approvingly as he drank it. "You won't be able to sit up unaided or feed yourself for a while. But helping you is a pleasure and we're all happy to do it."

       "Oh dear! You mean I must be spoon-fed, like baby Merry?" He sounded so woeful that Sam chuckled. "I'll never live it down." Another thought struck him. "Where is everyone? Or did I imagine lots of people earlier? Did I really see Legolas and Gimli?"

       "Yes, they're here. Now don't talk too much and tire yourself. They were on their way from Gondor to Mirkwood and decided to pay us a visit. When they found out you were ill they stayed to help, and I must say Mister Gimli makes quite a good nurse. No, don't laugh, I mean it! Merry and Pip have been here for weeks, and so has Mistress Brandybuck...........er...... Esme, although I don't rightly think I should be calling her that............"

       "How long have I been ill?"

        "Almost six weeks.............................well, you've been seriously ill for that long, but you've been ill for about a year really. Do you remember anything?"

       Frodo thought for a moment. "Fragments....................it's all a bit confused at the moment. I .........I did something silly,.......didn't I? To my shoulder?"

       "Well, perhaps it weren't so silly after all. It turned right nasty for three weeks and swelled up, but when it burst, all this horrible looking black stuff came out, and since then it's healed nicely. How does it feel?" He dabbed a little beeswax on Frodo's lips to prevent them becoming cracked and sore.

"It feels fine - a little sore, but..........normal. I can't feel that little piece of..........I don't know what it was, but it was like a seed of evil............"

       "Well, it's gone. Now you rest, stop talking and have another nap. I'll come back soon, and bring you another drink. That was the most difficult thing, getting enough fluid down you. At least that isn't a problem any more."

       "I'm sorry I've been such a nuisance." Frodo rested his hand on Sam's and looked very serious. "I must have caused you all a lot of worry."

       "Bless you, me love, you could never be a nuisance. We were all worried but that's only because we love you so much. And it was all worthwhile because here you are."

       "Sam.......one thing I do remember..........I was wandering alone in the darkness, lost and frightened, and suddenly there was a bright light for me to follow. You brought me home, dear, dear Sam." He smiled as Sam bent to kiss him. "Your love saved me before and it has saved me again. Thank you.............." He stopped, overcome with emotion, tears welling in the vivid blue eyes.

       "Hush. Don't you upset yourself." Sam stroked his face lovingly. "I'm just glad it worked. I asked the Lady to help us and she heard me. I was that desperate.................. You rest now, we want you fit and well. Is there anything you need?"

       Frodo shook his head. "I have everything I need, Sam. I know that now."

       When Sam left, Frodo looked about him. It was as though the terrible fog he had been lost in for years had lifted, blown away. Everything looked so clear to him. From his bed he could see the late afternoon sun gilding the trees, and it was almost as though he was seeing the sight for the first time. The sheer beauty took his breath away; such vivid loveliness he thought had been lost to him forever. He blinked on sudden tears of joy and relief, too weak to find a handkerchief and wipe them away. He did not know quite why the world looked different but he was not about to complain.

       He settled back and closed his eyes. He thought about the strange dreams he had had during his illness, keen to make sense of them. The fact that he was still here suggested that the Valar wanted him to live, and to reject that gift would be very ungrateful and selfish. He remembered being hopelessly lost and alone in darkness, longing only for an end to his misery, and somewhere in his mind was a memory of his parents, and Gandalf and Galadriel. It was very confusing, but the guilt and shame he had lived with for so long were no longer inside him. It was as though they had been burned and scoured away. There would always be some pain to deal with, but all creatures had some private griefs. He could cope with that. He was loved by those here and he realised that he should accept their love. He had to stop pushing people away when they wished to offer help and comfort. He had been left empty by the loss of the Ring but he had to stop believing that nothing could ever fill him again, particularly when he had friends and family so eager to give whatever they had. One phrase echoed in his head, in Gandalf's voice. "You have to forgive yourself, dear boy. Others have forgiven you because there is really nothing to forgive. Each of us can only do our best and hope it is enough. You did more than your best, and it was more than enough. Let it go now." He sighed gently and relaxed, slipping slowly towards sleep. He remembered his mother's voice telling him how proud she was and he knew he was deeply loved by his parents and would see them again one day. He had often wondered where hobbits went when they died and now he knew beyond any doubt that Iluvatar, who sang the world into creation, had ensured a place for them. He had been given a glimpse of something very special and he knew he must accept it as a gift from the Valar.

                                                                                  *************

       Rose found the children in very sombre mood. She had visited them two days previously and warned them that Uncle Frodo was very ill and probably going to die, and they had taken the news badly. Elanor was deeply distressed and begged to be allowed back to Bag End to say good-bye, which upset Rose even more. Fro did not really understand the concept of death, but he was frightened by his mother's tears, and Rosie-lass cried because everyone else was crying. It had been very traumatic. They had hardly played, and ate little, thinking of Uncle Fro not being there ever again. Ellie promised never to be naughty again if only he would get better.. She scowled at the thought of the awful being who had made that nasty Ring, and hoped he knew how much she hated him, whever he was.

       Little Rosie had been napping on Gammer Cotton's lap and sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes and half about to cry. The older ones were playing rather unenthusiastically in a corner. Rosie's twin brother Wilicom, known since birth as Jolly, smiled sympathetically as his sister entered.

       "How're things, lass?" He was startled when Rose flung her arms round him and laughed.

       "Hello, my darlings! Uncle Frodo's awake! He's going to get well!"

       In seconds Fro and Elanor were dancing round her, cheering, while little Rosie tugged on her skirts and jumped up and down, chanting, "Wanna see Fo! Wanna see Fo!" It took several minutes and the promise of biscuits and lemonade before they calmed down sufficiently for Rosie to tell the story of the Lady's star-glass and Sam's determination. She explained that Uncle Frodo was still very weak and tired and that the children could come home in a day or two, but they had to promise to be quiet and not disturb him. He would need rest and quiet for a long time.

       She walked back home in a cheerful mood, imparting the good news to those who asked, and to those who did not. Just let them say anything about Frodo, or speak derisively, and they could have a piece of her mind to feast upon!

                                                                                 **************

       Frodo spent most of the first few days sleeping, but it was a healing sleep. He was taking plenty of liquids and Rosie made chicken and mushroom broth for him,as a change from water, fruit juice and weak tea. He had drunk it gratefully and thanked her for looking after him so well. Now she wondered what else she could prepare to tempt his appetite.

       On the third day she went into his room with a little dish. He smiled at her as she sat on the bed and felt his forehead, then checked his pulse, which was growing stronger every day.

       "What have you got there?" he asked, eyeing the dish. She smirked slightly.

       "One of your favourites - egg custard, made just the way you like it, with nutmeg on the top. Thought you could do with a change." He looked interested. "Of course, I'll have to spoon it down you.............you won't mind that though, will you?"

       "I suppose I have no choice if I want it - which I do! Just don't go scraping the spoon up my chin like you do with the little ones!"

       "You promise not to dribble it down your chin and I promise not to scrape it up again!" she chuckled. "Do you think you'll need a bib?"

       "Very funny." He grinned at her. "And I promise not to spit it at you, the way Ellie used to do with cabbage!"

       "Well that's very considerate. I can see we'll get along really well, you being so well-behaved!" She took a small amount on the spoon and held it to his lips. It was every bit as good as anything else Rosie cooked. He ate all of it under her smiling gaze, and when the dish was empty she ruffled his hair and said, "Good lad! Keep this up and we'll have you running around Hobbiton in no time!"

       On her way back to the kitchen, Rosie thought about how she spoke to Frodo. He was no longer Mister Frodo; she thought of him as close family, a brother, or even a child at the moment while he was so helpless. He had a sweet vulnerability which appealed to her maternal instincts, and he had expressed no objection to her familiarity. Even Sam had stopped calling him Mister Frodo lately. It was nice, she decided.

                                                                                 *************

       Fatty Bolger was allowed to see Frodo four days after he woke up. He was thrilled to see his cousin awake but had been unable to disguise his shock at Frodo's appearance. When he had departed Frodo caught a glimpse of himself in the dressing mirror and recoiled.

       "Good grief! I look awful! No wonder Fatty was horrified. I'll frighten the children if they see me like this!"

       "Of course you won't frghten them. You look pale and hollow-eyed, of course but what do you expect after being so ill?" Merry plumped the pillows and held a cup of fruit juice to Frodo's lips.

       "My hair looks disgusting. My mother always said it looked like a bird's nest in the mornings. I dread to think what she'd say to this! It feels matted and horrible, and I need a bath. I must smell by now."

       "Stop fussing, pumpkin. You'll tire yourself out. We did wash and bathe you, you know, so you're not that dirty," Esme pointed out mildly as she folded nightshirts and returned them to their place in the chest of drawers.

       "I insist on a bath and a hair wash before the children come home," Frodo slurred, his eyes drooping closed.

       "I suppose it wouldn't do any harm," Esme murmured. "Make him feel better to be clean and fresh and with all those tangles combed out. He used to squirm and grumble about having his hair combed in the mornings. He'd fix me with those huge eyes and pout in an effort to get out of it." She chuckled. "Perhaps Legolas can lift him and take him to and from the bath if we make sure everywhere is nice and warm. Rose and I can change the sheets at the same time."

       Later that day Legolas scooped Frodo from his bed and carried him into the bathroom, Merry and Pippin removed his nightshirt and he was lowered into fragrant water, sighing happily at the sensation. He was not too embarrassed, having bathed with other members of the Fellowship while on their travels, and the Buckland hobbits always swam naked anyway, but he was rather mortified to discover he was still too weak to soap himself. The Elf took the soap and began to lather the flannel while Frodo closed his eyes and felt a hot tide of scarlet flow up his neck and face.

       "Sorry. You should not have to wash me, Legolas. I don't wish to embarrass you."

       The merry laughter made him blush even more. "I'm sorry, Frodo, but I'm not the one who is embarrassed here! Do not worry, my dear friend. This counts as part of my nursing duties."

       "Hmmmm. I'll try and do the.......er.......intimate bits myself, if I can."

       "Oh stop faffing about like a maiden aunt when her bloomers have fallen down!" chortled Pippin.

       "Or a virgin of the Marish caught skinny-dipping in the Brandywine. I'll come over there and wash you if you don't stop moaning!" Merry folded towels and placed them in front of the fire to keep them warm.

       "Charming!" Frodo pretended to glare at his irrepressible cousins.

       "Still grumbling, is he?" said Esme, popping in and draping a clean nightshirt over the chair. Her voice prompted a startled squeak from Frodo as he tried to hide under the water and cover himself with the soap.

       "Esme? You're not supposed to be here!"

       "No dear, but I'm not going to see anything I haven't seen before," she murmured. "I bathed you when you were little, remember?" She left, closing the door to keep the warmth in.

       Frodo huffed and settled back, enjoying the smell of the lavender oil and the soothing feel of lather on his skin. Sam set a chair at the head of the bath and began to wash the dark curls, trying not to pull on the knots as he did so. It felt good to be really clean.

       "Don't keep him in there too long," Rose admonished, and Frodo yelped and deployed the soap again, cursing fluently in Sindarin and causing Legolas to drop the flannel.

       "Why didn't you just put a bathtub out in the Party Field and invite the whole of Hobbiton?!" he muttered, pinking furiously.

       "No need for such modesty. Who do you think sponged you down when you were ill? Stop fussing! I'm averting my eyes."

       "Pity," said Merry. "It's very entertaining watching someone try to protect their modesty with a bar of soap!"

       Rosie's wicked chuckle echoed down the passage as she walked away.

      Sam smiled and rinsed the soap from Frodo's hair. Legolas lifted him out of the bath and he was wrapped in warm towels, patted dry and transferred back to bed. The sheets had been changed and the new linen was crisp and fresh as he snuggled in. Sam combed some of the tangles but decided not to tire his master too much. The rest would keep until later.

       "Thank you," Frodo whispered. "That feels so much better." He smiled at Sam and Legolas, and was asleep in seconds.

                                                                                 *************

       The children had been on their best behaviour since their return. They had been quiet and gentle around Frodo, creeping in when they could and simply curling up with him. He was very amused and touched by their efforts, and conspired with them to sneak them in when Rose was otherwise occupied. He liked having them there snuggled against him, little warm bodies burrowing close, holding his hands and calling him "Uncle Fro."

       Elanor wandered into his room and walked carefully towards the bed, her tongue curling out of the side of her mouth in concentration.

       "Now what have you brought me?" he enquired, smiling at the delicately beautiful little hobbit child. She beamed back at him, and sat on the bed, her little golden-furred feet swinging gently.

       "Your afters. Mum said you'd be ready for it after a sleep. Did you have a nice nap?" He nodded, and hid his smile as she felt his face and hands for signs of fever, and checked his pulse as she had seen her mother do.

       "You're............ not intending to .................feed me, are you?" he said finally.

       "Of course. You're not strong enough to feed yourself yet. I do know how to do it - I've fed little Rosie."

       "Oh dear. I hope you're not out for revenge over the time I managed to get carrot and parsnip puree up your nose when you were tiny?"

       Her laughter was like the pealing of tiny Elven bells, and in the kitchen Rosie and Sam smiled at each other.

       "So what is it - my afters?" He peered at the bowl, trying to work out what she had brought him.

       "Blackberry fool. Mum said it's one of your favourites, and we picked loads of blackberries and kept them in the ice well. Mum's making jam with some of them, I think." She dipped the spoon into the fluffy mauve concoction and held it out to him.

       When he had finished, she slid down and kissed him. Then she trotted back to the kitchen, placed the bowl in the sink, and went in search of the others. Quietly they made their way down the passage and in to Frodo's room, where they clambered up on the bed.

       " 'Lo, Fo!" Rosie-lass squealed, all rosy apple-cheeks and dimpled smile. She crawled along the quilt and wrapped herself around her uncle's arm.

       "Hello, Rose-bud," he said delightedly as the little girl kissed him gently and snuggled down beside him. Ellie and Fro joined her, and when Sam looked in ten minutes later, all four were sound asleep. Their father stood in the doorway, his eyes prickling with tears of joy. Rose joined him, and smiled.

       "Come on," she whispered, and led him back to the kitchen. "They're fine where they are. He seems happy enough to have them there, and it means they're quiet for a while. They love him very much, and it's wonderful to have them back. We're a family again."

                                                                                 ***************

       By the time Yule arrived, Frodo was able to sit up unaided and feed himself, much to Ellie's disappointment. She wanted Uncle Fro to be well, but she enjoyed feeding him and fussing over him. It made her feel very grown-up. They were busy preparing the house, decorating it with all the evergreen plants to welcome the turn of the year and remind themselves of the rebirth of dormant life. Sam felt he needed no reminders this year, since he had the best one of all in Frodo's presence. Here indeed was a re-birth. He sang as he stood on the ladder, attaching bits of greenery to the doorframe of Frodo's bedroom while the children and the cat directed operations from their places on the bed.

       "Should the Mayor be standing on a ladder, with no weskit on and his braces showing?" Frodo enquired mischievously.

       "Don't see how else this is going to get done," laughed Sam. "Unless the Master of Bag End wants to do it!"

       "Next year," he promised. "I should be up to it by then. I hate being this helpless - it's silly." He was rather frustrated because he was still unable to walk around or even stand. His legs had collapsed under him when he tried and he had clung to Sam, feeling like a very wobbly new-born lamb.

       "You will be. You mustn't rush things - it's not much over a month since you woke up, me dear." Sam climbed down and stood back to survey his handiwork.

       "Very nice, Sam," said Merry admiringly. He placed a tray on the bedside table. "Your elevenses, sir." He bowed to Frodo, and the children giggled.

       "The doctor left you a bottle of tonic," added Pippin, dodging round the ladder. "Oooh, mistletoe! I'm claiming a kiss!" He grabbed Sam and planted a smacker on his cheek, while the children whooped and howled.

       "I'm telling Mum - Uncle Pip's kissing Dad!" yelled Frodo-lad, his hazel eyes alight with glee.

       "Put him down, Pip! He's spoken for!" cried Frodo. "Rosie will be after you with the tea towel!"

       Merry recoiled in mock distress and feigned a half-swoon. "It's the Mayor! Oh the scandal!"

       "Oh come here, Merry dear. Can't have all this jealousy. I can't help being irresistible! Ellie! I demand a kiss from you and the fair lady Rose-bud. Mustn't leave young Fro out either. And I'd better grab a kiss from your uncle too - he is the most handsome hobbit in the Shire after all!"

       "Fool of a Took! I look a total fright these days." He grinned ruefully. "I must look terrible."

       "Just pale and interesting, dear," Merry said with a smile.

       Pippin dropped a kiss on the cat's head and Rufus rolled over, purring loudly.

       When everyone had been thoroughly kissed, Pippin waved the large bottle under Frodo's nose. Frodo looked very doubtful; he knew enough about medicines to know they were usually foul. Pippin poured some into a spoon and held it out. Frodo took it, against his better judgement, and spent the next few minutes coughing and spluttering and trying not to be sick.

       "Urgh! That's disgusting! What on earth is in it? Is there a doctor or apothecary anywhere who can make up palatable mixtures?"

       Pippin laughed. "You know what they say. If it doesn't taste bad it isn't doing you good!" He uncorked the bottle and sniffed. "Pheweee! Smells like cats' pee!"

       "Then it smells better than it tastes!" said Frodo firmly.

       "So how would you describe this cheeky little vintage?" asked Merry, teasing Frodo for his apreciation of fine wine.

       "Hmmm. A dark undertone of brackish pond water, with a lingering top note of decomposing cow carcase, and something like stinkwort seems to be in there too!" He grabbed the teacup from the tray and drank hastily to expunge the taste.

       "Sounds lovely. We'd best order a case!" Sam said, and Rosie, Esme, Estella and Diamond could hear the laughter from the kitchen.

                                                                                 *************

       On first Yule there was great excitement at Bag End. It was a special day in many ways, and it was to be Frodo's first day up. Normally they would have gone to Buckland or Tuckborough for a huge family celebration, or spent it at the Cotton's farm, but it was nice to spend it here, just the family. Esme had returned to Brandy Hall, Merry and Pip and their wives had gone back to Crickhollow, and Legolas and Gimli had departed for Mirkwood some weeks before, with promises to look in again on their return journey. Sam had written to the King to tell him the good news of Frodo's recovery. He had found that letter very easy to write, but he remembered the terrible night he and Pippin had written to inform Aragorn of Frodo's likely death. They sat together at the desk in the study, weeping as they wrote, and trying not to blot the letters with their tears. Sam wondered how Yule was celebrated in Gondor and Ithilien, but he was sure there could be no finer place to celebrate than here, with his loved ones around him and Frodo getting better every day.

       Rosie was busy preparing the meal. Sam had peeled the potatoes while she sliced carrots and parsnips and broke cauliflower into florets. She was basting the goose when she heard loud laughter in the passage. Scooping baby Merry from his cradle, she went to see what the fuss was about, and saw little Rosie dancing down the passage, trailing ribbons and singing. Behind her they had formed a procession. Rufus was chasing the ribbons, Frodo-lad was carrying a blanket and Ellie had two pillows, and behind her came Sam carrying Frodo. The baby stretched out his chubby little arms to his uncle and the procession halted while Frodo made a fuss of him. Then they went into the parlour where a fire was already blazing, and Sam lowered his master onto the couch while the children arranged pillows and covered him with the blanket. Frodo leaned back and beamed at them. He was wearing a beautiful Elven silk nightshirt, which Rosie had altered to fit him better, so it no longer slid off his thin shoulders when he moved. Over it he wore a dark blue dressing gown, which brought out the restored colour of his eyes. He was still far too pale and slender, but his eyes had lost their sunken appearance and sparkled with life.

       The children were almost beside themselves. Uncle Frodo was in the parlour, Gaffer was coming, and there was to be goose for dinner. Sam was delighted that his father was coming to Bag End for Yule dinner. Widow Rumble had wanted to go to her daughter's for the day, but was unhappy about leaving the old man. The rest of the family had offered him hospitality but Gaffer was very proud to have been invited to dine with Mr. Frodo and had declined all other offers.

       "Thank you for letting my old Gaffer come today," Sam said as he fussed with the pillows.

       "Oh Sam, he's more than welcome, you know that."

       A knock at the front door caused the children to run down the passage, shouting at the tops of their voices. Sam rolled his eyes and went to reprimand them but Frodo shook his head, laughing. Minutes later Gaffer stepped in, somewhat nervously. He still thought of himself as a servant and was not quite at ease in Bag End's splendid parlour. He was deafer than ever, but Frodo enunciated very clearly and he had little trouble understanding him.

       "Mornin', Mr. Frodo. It's good ter see you up and about, sir." He shook Frodo's hand.

       "Hello, Mr. Gamgee. It's very good to see you again. Well, I'm up but not quite about yet." He gestured to the large armchair near the fire. "Do sit down and make yourself comfortable. I think Sam has gone to fetch a cask of ale."

       Gaffer Gamgee was not sure he should be sitting in the best armchair, but he supposed that if the Master of Bag End said so, then it was alright. By the time Sam returned with three mugs of ale, he was chatting away quite easily. Sam handed round the mugs.

       "Oooh! I get some, do I?" said Frodo delightedly.

       "Of course you do! Did you think you'd be left out?" Sam laughed. Frodo turned to Gaffer as Rose walked in and kissed her father-in-law.

       "There's goose for dinner, but hard-hearted Rose has decreed that it is much too rich for me." He pouted at her. "I have to make do with mashed potato and gravy." He contrived to look very hard done by. Rosie leaned over the back of the couch and tapped his lower lip with her finger.

       "You can put that away! I never said you'd have to make do with mashed potato, did I? All I said was, goose is too rich, which it is. I'm cooking chicken for you!" She laughed at the expression on his face, and returned to the kitchen, still giggling.

       The table was laid in the dining room, which was only used on special occasions. Candles were lit and the best china, glasses and cutlery were found. Sam had made a display of holly and ivy for the centre of the table and everyone was admiring the effect. The Yule log burned brightly in the grate, bound with fragrant leaves and herbs which filled the room with the rich aomas of the woods and meadows. Frodo's couch was placed near the fire and a little table stood next to it.

       "I could try sitting at the table," he offered, but neither Sam nor Rose would hear of it.

       "You'll stay right where you are, Frodo Baggins. I won't have you overdoing things on your first day up." Rosie brought his dinner. She had cut the chicken into bite-sized pieces and mashed the potato and cauliflower together with milk and butter, just as he liked it, then poured gravy over. She handed him a spoon. "Much easier to use a spoon when you're reclining."

       Sam brought a glass of South Farthing wine, and Frodo was very happy. He ate dinner and even found room for a little more. Then there was apple pie with cream, and after that Sam vanished for five minutes and returned bearing a large bowl of mulled wine. Frodo started giggling.

       "It looks as though you put half the contents of the fruit and vegetable rack in there! Oh my, this is splendid! Am I allowed some of that too, or do I just get to admire it?"

       "You are certainly allowed some - can't have you missing out on the mulled wine, can we, especially after you ate such a good dinner." Rosie beamed at him and handed him one of the little cups. They toasted everyone they could think of, including the King and Queen of Gondor, the King and Queen of Rohan, the Prince and Princess of Ithilien and those friends across the sea who were out of sight but never far from their minds and hearts. Most of all, they drank to Frodo's health, until he was blushing and squirming and laughing.

       After dinner he was tranferred back to the cosy parlour, while Sam and Rose cleared the table. When they returned to the parlour they found Gaffer dozing in the armchair, and Frodo, the children and the cat all asleep on the couch. Baby Merry was lying frog-like on his stomach, sprawled on Frodo's chest, and the older ones were snuggled close. Rose smiled fondly. Sam's face shone with contentment, his emotions overflowing.

       That evening, after tea and sandwiches, cake and biscuits and cold cuts, Sam walked his Gaffer home, saw him in and stoked up the fire. Then he strolled back up the hill, whistling cheerfully. As he entered the smial the sound of laughter filled his ears, and he almost ran down the passage to join his loved ones. The mistletoe caught his eye and he grabbed Rosie and pulled her close for a lingering kiss while the children cheered. Merry-lad gurgled and crowed, waving his hands and bouncing gently on Frodo's lap. Then Rosie whispered something, and Sam took some of the mistletoe and held it above Frodo's head while she leaned in for a kiss.

       "I think he enjoyed that, lass. Do you want to give him another?" Sam was grinning from ear to ear.

       "Reckon I do," Rosie replied, and did so, cradling the back of his head to pull him closer. She laughed at his blush and briefly wondered if she had gone too far, but he hooked his arm round her neck and hugged her hard.

       The children all demanded kisses too, despite Sam telling them the mistletoe would be worn out by now, and by the time everyone had kissed everyone else, they were all giggling hysterically.

       "Dad has to kiss Uncle Fro now," Frodo-lad cried, and Sam willingly obliged.

       Frodo collapsed back on his pillows, laughing. "I'm all kissed out now!" he protested. "And so's that poor sprig of mistletoe!"

       Sam grinned. "Have to do it again tomorrow!" He smirked. "Reckon we'll have you dancing the Springle-ring pretty soon!"

       Frodo's eyes twinkled and they all chorused, " 'A pretty dance, but rather vigorous!' " and started giggling again.

       "Oh! I've had a lovely day!" Frodo stretched luxuriously. "I feel so spoiled and cared for. I was a fool not to see it before, but I was so wrapped up in myself I couldn't see anything else. Can you forgive me?" He held out his hands and they all went to him at once. Little Rosie hung drowsily round his neck and his young namesake climbed onto the couch at his feet. They all reached out and hugged him.

       "Nothing to forgive, dear. We just want you well and happy, because when you're happy, so are we." Sam squeezed his hand, and then said, "I think there's some little ones here who can start thinking about bed."

       Frodo yawned. "Hmmm. Not just the little ones, I'm afraid. Come on, folks, it really is bedtime, and your poor old Uncle Fro is tired too. There's another day tomorrow."

                                                                                 ***************

       "Parcel for Mr. Baggins!"

       A loud knocking at the door was followed by a familiar voice, and Sam opened the door to a grinning Merry and Pippin clutching a large box. They staggered inside and set it down, puffing slightly.

       "Phew!" said Pippin, mopping his face with a handkerchief. "What's Aragorn put in there? Logs?"

       "Aragorn? The parcel's from the King?" asked Sam. "Why didn't you say so?" He helped Merry to lift it and they carried it into the kitchen. Frodo was already half off the couch, eager to open the parcel.

       "Letters too," Pippin said, and bowed as he handed them over.

       Frodo was in a dilemma, not knowing whether to open the letters first or the box. Eventually he did both, with Sam's help. The letters spoke of Aragorn's joy and relief at Frodo's recovery and were full of concern. Frodo suspected that the King had used the palantir to see the outcome of his illness as he seemed very well-informed. There were letters from Arwen and Faramir too, all expressing delight at his progress. The parcel was full of gifts - toys for the children, a beautiful piece of silk for Rosie to make into a dress, books for Frodo, seeds and a book on the plants of Ithilien for Sam. There were sweetmeats also, and a huge supply of oranges, which Frodo had enjoyed in Gondor after the War. They did not grow in the Shire, but they were found in abundance in the South.

       Rosie was delighted with the silk, which seemed to change colour in the light which flowed over it like water. It was exquisite, and as she was the wife of the Mayor she had to attend meetings and events. This would put the old gossips' noses out of joint!

       Pippin had a letter too, which he tucked into his jacket in a mysterious fashion. Ale was poured, pipes lit and soon they were all grouped around the table, chatting. Sam went to fetch more logs and returned to announce that it was snowing heavily. Rosie produced her famous parsnip pie, and they settled down for the afternoon, snug and warm while the snow fell thickly on the gardens and fields of the Shire. The children had carried off their new toys and were playing quietly, the baby slept in his cradle, and Rosie sat rocking before the fire with a basket of mending beside her, moving only to retrieve cotton reels from a playful Rufus.

       Later, she and Frodo watched from the window as Sam, Merry, Pip and the children ran around in the snow, building snow hobbits and animals and hurling it at each other. The children brought some snow for their uncle to see and touch, and later they trooped inside for mulled wine and supper, faces glowing.

       Merry and Pip left after breakfast the next morning, saying only that they had to do something for the King.

       When asked what it was they merely smiled in an infuriating manner and tapped their noses, knowing full well that the inhabitants of Bag End were beside themselves with curiosity.

                                                                                 ************

        A few days after the parcel from Gondor, Frodo was resting on the couch and reading to the children. They sat in a row on the rug, faces upturned, mouths agape, eyes wide as they listened to the story about a wicked witch and a princess who pricked her finger and went to sleep for a hundred years. He liked reading aloud, changing his voice for the characters, and frightening them deliciously with the scary bits.

       The door opened and Rosie entered. The snow had melted as quickly as it had arrived, and the lanes were muddy. She went into the garden room and washed the dirt from her feet before padding through to the kitchen, where it was cosy and warm.

       "I met old Ma Proudfoot just now and you'll never guess what happened," she announced to the assembled company. "She gave me four jars of her rhubarb and ginger jam and said, 'That's for dear Mr. Baggins! Do wish the poor dear well for me. The ginger will be good for his delicate stomach, bless him!'"

       Frodo's mouth fell open. "Eh? 'Dear Mr. Baggins'? Are we talking about the same Mrs. Proudfoot here? The one who stalks past with her nose in the air? And how does she know I have a delicate stomach?" He ran the words through his mind again. "She never gives away her jam! It's famous - it wins prizes every year at the fair. Why would she give some to me? Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

       "P'raps folk have learned to appreciate you, me dear," remarked Sam from his seat in the corner. "And not before time, I'd say."

       Frodo grinned and went in search of the bread.

       Two days later, Sam came back from a shopping trip to Bywater, and placed a basket on the table. "This must be catching," he remarked. "I bumped into Mrs. Bracegirdle.............," he paused while the children made rude noises and held their noses, Mrs Bracegirdle being one of the less popular Shire residents as far as the Gamgee children were concerned, "................................and she gave me one of her steak and mushroom pies - 'For your lovely Mr. Baggins. I do hope he's feeling better now. When he's well you must all come and have dinner with us!' " Sam's impersonation of Mrs Bracegirdle reduced the children to giggles.

       Frodo looked baffled. "What is going on? We can expect baskets of mushrooms from Mrs Maggot, but Mrs. Bracegirdle? And Mrs. Proudfoot? I'm beginning to wonder what this is all about. And Rosie said Emilia Boffin called by with a batch of jam tarts and some fresh-baked bread." He appeared lost in thought for a few moments, then brightened. "I think I know who to ask!"

                                                                                 ************

       "Us?" Pippin squeaked. "Why would you think we'd know anything?" He glared at Merry and hissed out of the corner of his mouth, "Merry! Help me out here!"

       "Ummmm. Why should we know, Fro?" Merry assumed an innocent expression and cast a glance at the ceiling.

       "Meriadoc! You forget I know all your expressions. You tried that one on me twenty years ago and it didn't work then. What have you two been up to?" He found himself eye to chin with his cousin but it didn't deter him. Pippin tried to sneak out of the room while Frodo's attention was on Merry, but he was wise to that. Without turning round he said, "Pippin! Where do you think you're going?"

       "The.........er.........the...privy?" Pippin replied suddenly.

       "You can wait! I insist you tell me...........now!"

       "We're going to have to tell him, Pip. He's getting that stern look." Merry pinched Frodo's cheek. "He's just so cute when he does that!" He laughed at Frodo's expression. "Alright, Fro. It's Aragorn's fault really."

       "Aragorn! What does he have to do with the goodwives of Hobbiton and Bywater showering me with food?"

       "Well, he was very upset about you being ill, and he's been even more hurt by the way you've been ignored while we've been fussed over. You know what people are like in the Shire - what have events "down South" got to do with them? Well, once you were on the mend, Aragorn sent a letter to the Shire - a sort of proclamation, explaining what you did, and he asked us to read it to everyone and explain why you'd been so ill."

       "He said he wanted you to be appreciated. He was quite angry that Shirefolk weren't helping you, so we've been round the Shire, reading the King's letter and explaining just how wonderful you are," Pippin finished, and looked nervously at his cousin. Frodo had wanted no attention while he carried all that guilt and shame. How would he feel now?

       Frodo was quiet for a long time. Everyone waited to see if he would be upset or angry. He sat down at the table and propped his chin on his hand, thinking very carefully. The rest of the company glanced warily at each other, and were horrified to see Frodo lean forward with his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. Pippin and Sam both went to him, stricken that he was so upset.

       "There, there, me dear, don't take on so. I'm sure Aragorn meant well.............."

       Frodo raised his head, and they realised that he was indeed crying - with laughter. Helpless giggles welled up and spilled over, and the more he tried to stop, the more he chuckled, until finally he was clutching his ribs.

       "Oh Aragorn!" he gasped. "What an utterly ridiculous idea! Oh my stars! I'll wager he never thought it would lead to the Shire womenfolk trying to fatten me up like a Yuletide goose!"

       Relieved, the others allowed their own amusement to erupt, and the kitchen was filled with the sound of uproarious laughter.

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