With hobbits coming of age at 33, it is likely that a hobbit child of 11-12 would be closer in development to a human child of about 8.

June 1380 SR (Shire Reckoning)

The early summer evening was creeping across the fields and gardens of the Shire, leaving velvet darkness in its wake. In the neat little cottage, standing alone and half-hidden between Whitfurrows and Frogmorton, Drogo Baggins lit the lamps in the comfortable parlour and wandered through to the kitchen, where his wife was tidying away the supper dishes. He stood behind her, wrapped his arms around her and kissed the back of her neck, parting the chestnut ringlets which tumbled in such abundance there.

       "Leave those, Prim dear. Come and sit down - you've been running around all day."

       She smiled up at him. "I'm almost done here. I don't want to leave anything because it will still be here to do when we come back in three months. I want to leave things tidy." She closed a cupboard door, dried her hands on her apron and turned to face her husband. "There! Now I can sit down." She took his hand and allowed him to lead her through to the parlour.

       "You shouldn't be doing too much in your condition, darling. Promise me you'll be extra careful. We've lost so many ............. I couldn't bear to lose you or another............" He swallowed and rested his hand on her belly, still almost flat beneath her gown. "It's a lot to go through at your age, my love."

       "I know." She held his fingers and stroked the back of his hand. "But remember, my own mother was my age when I was born, so it is not unheard of for a woman to have a child safely at 60. We Tooks and Brandybucks are tough, you know."

       Drogo thought privately that Mirabella Brandybuck (nee Took) had been much tougher than Prim and had had six successful pregnancies before producing her last daughter, but he kept these worries to himself. Primula had given birth to a beautiful daughter two years after their marriage but the child only lived an hour. Several miscarriages followed before their son was born almost twelve years ago, and more followed his birth, until they were resigned to the thought that there would be no more children. Then, to their great surprise , they had discovered that another baby was on the way. If they could get through the first three months they would be more hopeful.

       "You and little Frodo are the most important things in my life. As long as I have you both I am more than content." Drogo slipped an arm round her and kissed her. "When should we tell the little one?"

       "Let's wait another couple of weeks. I don't want him disappointed - he so wants a little brother or sister to play with and look after. I think he wants to be someone a child can look up to. Poor darling, the other children all treat him as a youngster, even when he's older than they are!"

       "It's that innocent little face. Now are you sure you're up to the journey to Brandy Hall? We can delay or cancel if you think travelling might cause any difficulties......"

       "I'm fine, and Rory is sending his carriage for us. I wouldn't dream of cancelling, especially as little Frodo is almost beside himself with anticipation. Don't fuss............." She broke off as a small face, topped with a cloud of dark curls, appeared round the door. Huge blue eyes regarded them solemnly. A large grey velvet cat was clutched in his arms.

       "And what are you doing out of bed, young man?" Drogo enquired, amused. He held out his arms and the child scampered across the room and into his father's lap.

       "I can't sleep - I'm too excited, and I'm thirsty, and there was a noise............." Frodo broke off into giggles as his father tickled him. "And...........Mr.Tibbles is excited too!" He indicated his toy and bedtime comforter.

      "Excited? Now what could you and Mr.Tibbles possibly be excited about? And thirsty too? Dear me, we can't have that, can we my dear?" He addressed his wife, who was laughing and trying to straighten her son's nightshirt.

       "No indeed. I know you are desperate to get to Brandy Hall, my little love, but the morning will come all the quicker if you go to sleep. We'll find you a drink and Papa will take you back to bed." She kissed him fiercely. "Good-night, lambkin. Sleep tight."

       "I will, Mama." He wrapped his arms round his mother's neck and hugged her. "Cousin Esme said in her letter that she's going to make my favourite chocolate cake for tomorrow. She's so kind to me."

       "I happen to know that you are Esme's favourite in the whole family. She thinks the world of you, and she knows how much you love that cake. Now off to bed with you! And Mr.Tibbles!" Prim patted her son's bottom as he scrambled down and followed his father out of the room.

       Drogo filled a jug with water and held his son's hand as they walked back to the little boy's room. Frodo wriggled down under the covers and sipped his water, then snuggled down and turned on his side, the toy cat in his arms. He smiled sleepily as his father stroked his cheek.

       "Night-night, Papa."

       "Good-night, sleepyhead. Sleep well, dearest boy." He kissed the soft cheek and rested his hand on the springy curls. "You dream about Brandy Hall - we'll have a wonderful time there and you'll have lots of children to play with." He listened for a moment as the child's breathing deepened, then he turned quietly and left the room.

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       The child woke early and hurried into the kitchen, where his mother was packing a picnic basket for the journey. He sat at the table and watched quietly until she had finished, his eyes luminous and bright with excitement. When the basket was full and arranged to Primula's satisfaction, she turned her full attention to her son and poured a glass of milk for him.

       "There you are, lambkin. When you've had your breakfast you must wash and dress. The carriage will be here at 10 o clock." She looked at him, laughed, and wiped the moustache of milk which covered his upper lip. "Messy little master!" She fetched a large platter of bacon and mushrooms to the table and was busy slicing fresh, crusty bread when Drogo entered with a dish of strawberries. He handed them to her and bowed.

       "Strawberries, as you desired, Ma'am." She had a craving for them at the moment and her husband was happy to indulge her every whim.

       "Thank you, kind sir." She bobbed a curtsey as Frodo watched them with wide eyes. There seemed to be some secret between them which made him curious.

       When breakfast had been consumed, and pink strawberry juice had been thoroughly smeared all over little Frodo's face, Primula packed him off to the bathroom. The boy stood on the little box to look into the mirror and regarded his face with resignation. He knew what the Shire gossips said about him not looking like a proper hobbit, and they were right. Hobbits were plump, their features rounded, with snub noses and rosy cheeks, and he was slender with very pale skin and pointed features and a very straight nose. It was not fair. He ate well and liked to run around in the sun but his skin burned and grew red and sore if he went out without a hat or stayed out too long. His mother told him it was due to the Elvish strain in the Took side of the family and he supposed he should be proud of that, but he just wanted to be like all the other children. Cousin Bilbo had once told him that he stood out like a rose in an onion patch, but he didn't want to stand out. He felt he did not belong anywhere sometimes, and he so wanted a little brother or sister to call his own. If they looked much the same he would not feel such an oddity.

       He knew that his mother had lost babies before. He remembered the doctor looking concerned and Primula crying and his father trying to comfort her. One night he'd seen his father cry, alone in the parlour, and he had been very frightened by that. Fathers were not supposed to cry; they were brave and strong all the time. He had run back to his own bed and lain awake for a long time after that.

       "Are you ready, Frodo?" said his father from outside the door. Frodo hurriedly finished his wash and emerged for his mother's inspection. She tutted and hauled him back in to wash the bits he had missed, then brushed his hair while he squirmed and cried, "Ow!"

       "I really don't know what you do to your hair, child. It looks as though birds have been nesting in it overnight!"

       Frodo grumbled and whimpered that the brush hurt and that she was pulling all his hair out, but at last he was finished to her satisfaction. He dressed hastily and ran outside as he heard the carriage arrive, clutching his bag and the ever-present Mr.Tibbles. His toy box was already on the path outside the door. He liked to take a selection of toys with him, and some of his books, most of which had come from Cousin Bilbo. Drogo grinned and helped the driver to load their belongings before helping Primula inside. He locked the cottage door and climbed up beside the driver. Frodo was already inside and bouncing on the seat, overjoyed to be on the way at last. Primula chuckled and pulled him next to her as the carriage turned and began to pick up speed along the lane, and they gazed out of the window to watch the cottage gradually grow smaller before finally disappearing behind the trees.

       "Good-bye, home! We'll be back soon!" Frodo called. He loved the little one storey house with its circular door and windows, where even the darkness was peaceful and snug. The house was like his parents, reassuring and solid. He rested his head on his mother's breast and put his arms up for a hug and a kiss, which demand she readily obliged.

       "Do you think Esme will remember the chocolate cake, Mama?"

       Prim smiled. "If Esme says she'll have cake for you then she won't forget. Just don't eat it all and make yourself ill. Save some for rme - I like Esme's chocolate cake too, you know."

       "Who else will be there? I wish Uncle Bilbo would come but he's away on one of his adventures.........." The child sighed heavily. "I wish I could go on an adventure some day........."

       "I'm sure you will, poppet. There's plenty of time for adventures when you're older. I want to keep you with me for a while yet. Besides, Bilbo might come back any day - you know what he's like. He always tries to be back for your joint birthday." She kissed the top of his head. "You're his favourite as well as Esme's, you know?"

       "I want to meet Elves and Dwarves and wizards and dragons!" Frodo turned to his mother, his face radiant with impatience and eagerness.

        "And you will, lambkin. When you're a bit older you can stay at Bag End for a while and I daresay you'll meet all sorts. Bilbo has lots of interesting visitors - the first time your father took me there I met two dwarves, and I was lucky enough to meet Gandalf two or three times." The child's eyes grew wider than ever.

       "Gandalf! You met Gandalf?! A real wizard!" He fell back on the cushions, pouting. "I'm sure I'll never meet him. Nothing exciting ever happens to me!" Primula shook her head, her blue eyes dancing with amusement.

       "You silly boy, you have seen Gandalf - or rather he has seen you. You were only a few hours old when he arrived at Brandy Hall, and Bilbo dragged him in to see you. He held you - I was terrified he'd drop you because you looked so tiny in those huge hands - and he gave you a blessing and said you looked like an Elfling. He was very gentle, I must say, for a Big Person."

       "But I don't remember it!" cried Frodo in exasperation. "Do you think Gandalf might come to Brandy Hall while we're there?"

       "Well, no-one knows when Gandalf will appear next, so I suppose it's possible." She squeezed the boy gently but with fierce affection. "There'll be lots for you to do when we get there, and assorted cousins to play with. There's some new babies too and more on the way. Cousin Merimac's wife has had a little boy, so I hear." She smiled down at him. "Are you hungry?" He nodded. "Then let us find those mushroom sandwiches I made especially for you."

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       Brandy Hall was a very large and palatial dwelling with scores of tunnels and rooms for the enormous Brandybuck family. It lay on the other side of the Brandywine river east of the Shire and bordered the sinister Old Forest, where it was said the trees moved and the paths could disappear in a trice. The Brandybucks were viewed as odd and eccentric by other hobbits. Old Master Gorbadoc, Primula's father, never had fewer than two hundred relations there and her brother Rorimac continued the tradition. The aunts, uncles, cousins and second, third and fourth cousins three times removed made for a rather overwhelming gathering for a small child, so Frodo lurked close to his mother and Esme for a while. Esme was rather sad because her little baby had been born too soon and died, but she seemed delighted to see him and sat him on her lap for a cuddle straight away. When Prim whispered something in her ear, she gasped, laughed and hugged Prim very tightly. They went into a conspiratorial huddle like a couple of tweens, giggling and whispering, while he read quietly next to them.

       Later Esme fetched the chocolate cake and a glass of milk for him, and he settled happily on the rug with his book. Merimac's wife brought the new baby for all to admire, and to Frodo's delight he was allowed to hold little Berilac, who gurgled happily and waved his tiny fists. Then cousin Eglantine came in with her little girls, Pimpernel, only just over a year old and very inquisitive, and the high-spirited Pearl, aged five.

       "Fo! Hello Fo!" She flung her arms round Frodo and planted a very sloppy kiss on his cheek, which made everyone laugh. Pimpernel immediately copied her sister. She had been chewing a jam sandwich and proceeded to share the jam with Frodo's face and his shirt in her enthusiasm. He rolled his eyes at his mother but he was laughing as he cuddled the child. She was learning to crawl and could cover a surprising amount of ground in a very short time, so he was kept busy looking after her and keeping her out of mischief while the mothers talked.

        "Come back here, you little rascal!" Pimpernel giggled and scooted off the rug with Frodo in hot pursuit, while Pearl sniffed disdainfully and sat on the footstool to watch Frodo doing all the work. This seemed to set the pattern for the days ahead - Pearl supervising Frodo's care of her sister, with that unique balance of indifference and Tookish charm.

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        A few days later Frodo and his parents went off for a picnic. Much as he loved the other members of the family and the children, it was nice to spend some special time with his mother and father. Primula was wearing her favourite blue dress, the one Drogo always said reminded him of her eyes. She was almost girlish in her manner and walked lightly, with a spring in her step. Drogo slipped his arm round her waist as they walked over the lush grass towards a little clump of trees in the meadow near the river while Frodo skipped ahead. They had been to the stables to see the latest litter of kittens and he had finally been promised one for his own. Drogo carried a picnic basket which contained all manner of good things.

       The cloth was spread on the grass and Primula began setting out the food. There was a cold chicken and some ham, mushrooms, fresh bread and butter, cheese tartlets, and even some strawberries, at which she exclaimed delightedly. There was lemonade and elderflower cordial to drink, and some cherries too. It was a feast.

       Frodo wandered down to the water. He had been introduced to the river at an early age, being taught to swim by his cousin Saradoc. All the Brandybucks could swim like eels, girls as well as boys, and the water was cool around his toes. His father had been very suspicious of the family liking for water but now he enjoyed boating on the river, although he had never learned to swim, even when Prim had volunteered to teach him. The child wriggled his toes into the mud and watched the water cloud around his ankles. A dragonfly skimmed the water, its green body shimmering in the sun like an emerald as it darted to and fro, lace wings whirring. Frodo smiled. He loved beautiful things and the sight made his heart lift and sing.

       "Frodo! Lunch is ready, pet," his mother called, and he ran back to the shade and threw himself down.

       "Mmmm! I'm hungry.....and so is Mr.Tibbles!" He hugged the big grey cat and then began to tuck in while his parents watched approvingly.

       When the strawberries were produced, Primula shared them out, and then laughed as she scrubbed her son's face with her handkerchief. He pulled a face and tried to squirm away but she was too fast and had too firm a grip on his shirt.

       "Can I swim now, Mama?" He was hopping from foot to foot in his impatience.

       "Not yet, darling. You must let your food go down first, otherwise you'll get cramp. Sit down and rest for a little while. Your Papa and I have something to tell you." She looked rather pink as she said this and his father was beaming at her in a very strange way.

       "That's right. Frodo, your Mama is going to have another baby soon."

       Frodo gasped. He could hardly believe that his prayers were being answered. "When? When will it come?"

       "Just after Yule, we believe," said Primula, smiling. Frodo's face fell.

       "Yule?! That's not soon, it's far away! I can't wait that long! Why can't it come now?" Drogo had to struggle to hide his amusement at his little son's woeful expression.

       "I'm afraid babies cannot be hurried, my boy. They have to stay inside Mama until they're big enough to come out." Frodo looked puzzled by this information and Primula stroked his cheek. She took her son's hand and placed it on her tummy.

       "Would you like to feel the baby, little one?"

       For a moment Frodo couldn't understand what she meant, but just as he was about to shake his head he felt a movement beneath his hand. His eyes widened and grew round with astonishment.

       "Wh..........what was that?"

       "That was your little brother or sister, lambkin," Prim said, giggling at her son's expression. "Say hello to him or her." Frodo pressed his face to his mother's stomach, suddenly aware of the bump.

       "Hello, baby............Baby Baggins!" he said, and laughed. "Can it hear me in there?"

      "Well, babies repond to noise and voices and music. You liked music very much and moved a lot." There was another movement and Frodo looked concerned.

       "Doesn't it hurt?"

       "No. It feels a little strange at first but not in a bad way."

       "Did I kick when I was inside you?" he asked, curious now. Drogo chuckled.

       "Oh you were a very fidgety baby, squirming and turning somersaults, especially at night. You kept your Mama awake sometimes, wriggling around in there."

       Frodo giggled at the thought, then his face grew grave again. "How did it get in there?" he asked, his brow furrowing as he tried to work it out.

       Drogo turned as red as a ripe tomato and Primula erupted in gales of laughter. They exchanged glances and Drogo said gruffly, "Never mind about that now. We'll tell you about that another day. I think you can go in the water for a while. Be careful now."

       Frodo was thoughtful for a moment while he digested all this new information, then he kissed his mother and ran back to the water. He piled his clothes on the bank and dived in, sleek and gleaming as one of the fish.

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        The next day Frodo dressed early and ran down to the stables to see the kittens again. The mother cat, a plump tortoiseshell and white called Petunia, greeted him happily and purred as she rubbed her face around his hand. One of the grooms had just brought her food and milk and was checking on the kittens, all of whom were milling around in the large basket. Frodo's kitten was a little ginger and white boy, with a very pink nose and paws, the only one; the rest of the litter consisted of two marked like Petunia, and two black and whites. He was engaged in a mock fight with one of his siblings and was pretending to be very fierce, which reduced Frodo to helpless laughter. The tiny creature looked so funny baring his teeth and spitting, his mouth very pink inside and full of very tiny teeth. He scooped all five kittens into his lap as he sat on the floor, and stroked them while Petunia took advantage of the unexpected babysitter to complete her toilette. The boy was fascinated by the way the cat washed her paws and then rubbed them over her ears and head. He held his hand in the way of her tongue and she licked him; he could feel the scrape of her little rough tongue and looked more closely, surprised to see that the surface was covered with barbs.

       He thought the kittens were incredible, each one a little replica of the mother in all but colour. Babies were the same in a way, the same as their parents but different too. He wished he looked more like his parents, although he had his mother's blue eyes, pale colouring and dark hair. He had chosen the kitten because it was unlike any of the others and stood out, an oddity, as he was.

       Petunia finished her wash and turned her attentions to her offspring, pinning them down with a paw as she bowled them over in her enthusiasm and licked them while they protested and tried to escape. Frodo grinned. He recognised that tendancy well enough.

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       "Here he is at last! Where have you been, lambkin? Look who's here!" Primula greeted her son as he trotted into the sitting-room. A figure rose from the chair and advanced towards him.

       "Frodo, my dear boy!" Frodo squealed with joy and threw himself at the jovial-looking hobbit.

       "Bilbo! Oh Uncle Bilbo, I so wanted you to come and stay with us!" He was swept up and hugged. "And.......and...........Mama is going to have another baby!"

       "Yes, I know. What wonderful news, my lad. Couldn't be more pleased. And what have you been up to?"

       Frodo sat next to his uncle and chattered happily all through breakfast, telling him about the kittens, about Berilac and Pearl and little Pimpernel, and about the new baby. Bilbo smiled and listened attentively, and thought how much the boy had grown since he last saw him. He had spirit and sensitivity and an adventurous trait uncommon in hobbits.

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       Bilbo volunteered to take little Frodo to Bucklebury Fair so he could buy things to give as gifts to his family on his birthday. Frodo was very excited to be in the midst of so much activity and could not resist visiting every stall several times as he tried to decide what to buy. He consulted earnestly with Bilbo, and eventually found a beautiful brooch for his mother and a fine silk cravat for his father as well as toys and various other items for his numerous relations. By the late afternoon he had spent most of his money and had an armful of gifts. Bilbo patted him affectionately.

       "My dear child, you've spent all the money and bought nothing for yourself! Here, give me those parcels, take this and find some good things for yourself. We will not go home until you've spent it!" He fished in his pocket and gave the boy a handful of coins. Frodo's smile lit up his whole face, and he hugged Bilbo with all his might.

       "This is going to be the best birthday ever, Uncle Bilbo!"

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