A/N: This story will have several cameo appearances of OCs from previous stories: Gordibrand Burrows (The Trouble With Love, A Tale That Grew in the Telling), Posy Goold (A Night to Forget), and Fendi, Morti, Piper and Gil (In Darkness Buried Deep).
 
 
 

Frodo is about to turn 20, Bilbo is about to turn 98, and Merry is 6 (about 13, 63, and 4 in Man years)

Halimath 1388 SR

Chapter 1

Menegilda Brandybuck sat in a stately chair of bright chiffon in the first sitting room, enjoying the company of her sisters-in-law, Amaranth and Asphodel. This was a custom of theirs to dress in their best and finest on Highday afternoons and have a formal tea. The ritual allowed them to refocus themselves and leave behind the hectic week, if only for an hour or two.

They had covered all the latest gossip and had just finished their meal with a glass of blackberry wine. Amaranth and Asphodel were standing, preparing to take their leave, when a knock sounded on the door. A moment later, the door opened and a servant entered with a bow. “Your guest has arrived, Mistress,” the servant stated.

The matriarch gave a nod, and the servant opened the door wider to permit the guest to enter.

“My dearest Gilda,” Bilbo greeted, all cheer and smiles. One would never have guessed he had walked all the way from Hobbiton, he seemed so well-rested.

At the sight of her dearly eccentric friend, all formality fell away. Menegilda rose from her seat and embraced Bilbo. “My dear Bilbo,” she greeted back and kissed him upon the cheek. She stepped back and eyed him critically. “Still as young as ever, of all the wonders. Whatever is your secret? All of us should be so lucky to look as good as you do at your age.”

Bilbo laughed easily. “Why Gilda, you’re not a day over thirty-three yourself. Ami and Del, you’re both equally lovely this afternoon.”

Ami and Del embraced Bilbo in turn and greeted him. They were not as close to Bilbo as Gilda was, but they liked him well enough – so long as he didn’t start rambling on about dragons and other such foolishness.

“We are glad you could make it, Bilbo. Frodo has been speaking of nothing else,” Del said of her youngest nephew and one-time ward. “He’s full of plans for your visit. You will be quite exhausted by the time you leave.”

“As I always am,” Bilbo chuckled. “I am just as eager to see him, I assure you. Imagine, he’ll be twenty already. Is he about?”

“He hasn’t pounced on you yet?” Ami asked, somewhat surprised. Always, without fail, Frodo would wait out by the road, all day if necessary, until Bilbo arrived. This was the first time he had ever neglected to do so; the news was alarming indeed.

“He hasn’t,” Bilbo answered, his disappointment showing in his voice. He had been equally surprised by the lack of greeting, and he wondered what could be keeping the lad. He hoped Frodo wasn’t in any kind of trouble, but from Ami’s reaction, and the equally alarmed looks from Gilda and Del, it didn’t appear Frodo was under punishment for anything.

“I’m sure that he is about somewhere,” Del reassured after a moment and took her sister’s hand. “He’ll find you, like as not. If you’ll excuse us, we have matters to attend to.”

“Of course,” Gilda said and saw them out of the room. She turned to the servant then, who had lingered to await orders. “See the room is cleaned, if you please.”

“Yes’m.” The servant bowed and immediately began cleaning up the room.

Menegilda next turned to Bilbo, who offered his arm. She accepted and Bilbo led her to the tunnel. “I trust you’ve eaten,” she stated.

“Rest assured, that was the very first thing I did upon arriving,” Bilbo said. “I am full and satisfied – until dinner, at any rate. Since we don’t know where Frodo is, what do you say to a stroll in the gardens? You can fill me in on everything I need to know.”

“That sounds like a delightful idea,” Gilda agreed.

The air outside was crisp and cool, autumn settling early over Buckland. The harvests had even started already to avoid the damage of nightly frosts, and the late afternoon air was heavy with the smell of cut grain and smoked leaves. Dusk would be upon them soon, but they had enough time for a leisurely stroll. Gilda drew her shawl around her shoulders and over her arms, and Bilbo drew his coat close.

“They were quite disappointed to discover I would not be celebrating my birthday in Hobbiton this year,” Bilbo said of his various neighbors and relations. He could still hear their exclamations of dismay. “They’re quite accustomed to my lavish parties, I’m afraid.”

“Afraid you are not,” Gilda said. “You thrive on the attention and everyone clamoring for their presents.”

Bilbo chuckled, caught and told out. “I’ll make it up to them next year. I simply could not miss Frodo’s birthday this year. To think, he’s a tween at last, and yet it seems like just yesterday he was a little faunt bouncing on my knee.”

“Time has a way of getting away from us,” Gilda agreed. “I remember when he was born. Primula and Drogo were so proud, they could hardly stop beaming at him, and Primula never wanted to put him down. She carried him everywhere, to the point where I thought he would never learn to walk on his own, and now look at him, running about at all hours. How can something so long ago seem so close, when I cannot even remember what I had for first breakfast yesterday morning? The years just zoom right by, and the days never seem to end.”

“Time is a funny thing,” Bilbo confirmed. “And how have the days been treating Frodo lately?”

“You’ll have to ask my son or daughter-in-law to learn the full tale, but from all I’ve heard and seen, he’s entering his tweens much the same as any other lad or lass – confused and uncertain of his place – but he handles it well, better than most, considering.” Gilda patted Bilbo’s arm and smiled fondly at her friend. “At least he is certain of one thing, and that is you. You always bring a smile to his face.”

“And he brings one to mine,” Bilbo returned.

They reached the gardens and entered through the gap in the hedges. The sun was sinking lower to the horizon and the wind came from the south, carrying the rich and thick scent of vineyards plucked bare. The garden flowers bloomed vibrant and fragrant, and the grass was soft beneath their feet. Bilbo soaked it in, delighting in it all.

“I am pleased to hear he is doing better,” Bilbo said now. “I have been so worried since he came to visit this past Spring. You know his letters can be less than informative, and after all that business with Merry, I was worried things would not patch themselves up.”

“He still has his moments,” Gilda said with an odd blend of amusement and disappointment. She loved her young nephew dearly and couldn’t help but laugh at his more harmless pranks, but there was no denying that Frodo had a certain streak for recklessness which sometimes got the better of him. She stopped in front of a trellis of primrose and fingered one of the delicate pink blooms with care.

“There was that incident a couple of months back on Maggot’s fields,” she said now. “Caught red-handed pinching mushrooms again. Maggot had been given leave to deal with Frodo as he saw fit should Frodo ever return to the fields, and he did. He whipped the lad good, then set his dogs on him and they chased him all the way to the Ferry. Frodo was quite unable to sit for a good week or so.”

“He returned to Maggot’s fields? After Merry broke his arm there the last time?” Bilbo asked in absolute disbelief. Frodo had been beyond distraught at the incident from what Bilbo had gathered later, and had sworn never to do anything so foolish again. This news was unsettling, to say the least. “Oh, I knew his letters were much too carefree.”

Menegilda nodded gravely, still at a loss of an explanation over the incident. The news had shocked them all when they received the letter from Maggot, written in haste by the post messenger as Maggot had been too impatient and irate to struggle with writing it himself.

“Return he did. Esme and Sara were quite beside themselves when the post messenger arrived, for naturally Frodo had not spoken a word of it, claiming his injuries were from nothing more than playing too hard with the older lads,” Gilda continued. “They had quite the discussion that night; even my Rory was called into the discussion and he delivered Frodo quite the ultimatum. It caused a rather large riff between Rory and Saradoc, and I think that is what scared Frodo the most. Since then, Frodo seems to have turned over a new leaf and is behaving himself quite well. But we’re worried naturally. Frodo was hard enough to manage as a teen, and now that he’s reached his tweens… Still, my son assures me all is going well now, and that’s something for which we may all be grateful.”

“It most certainly is,” Bilbo said, though he was far from reassured. He would have to speak with Saradoc and Esmeralda himself, and see how Frodo acted around them, before he could accept Gilda’s reassurance. He also wanted to know more about this ultimatum. For that, he would have to speak with Rory, as Gilda would not elaborate further. “Perhaps I could have a word with Frodo while I’m here.”

“If he’ll listen to anyone, it will be you,” Gilda agreed.

They remained for a time in the gardens, strolling about and enjoying the chill autumn day. Bilbo shared the latest news from Hobbiton, including the various antics of the Sackville-Bagginses, and Menegilda shared the various rumors and news of the Hall.  

“This is ridiculous,” complained Ginger, the head cook. She stared at the bare cupboard shelf, where reserved food and special orders were set aside until they were called for. “They’re all gone?”

“Yes’m,” her assistant answered. “The entire batch.”

“And no one knows anything? No one saw anything at all?” Ginger asked.

“No ma’am.”

“Mr. Marmadas will not be pleased. ‘Tis the third time this week,” Ginger said, frustration evident in her voice. “Well, there’s naught for it but to make more and deliver them directly.”

“Yes’m.”

“I’ll seek out the Mistress and let her know what’s about.” Ginger washed her hands and took off her apron, hanging it on the hook next to the door. She marched out of the kitchen, scandalized more than she could say. In all her years of working the kitchens, this has never happened before and she was hoping the Mistress would know what to do about it.

Ginger tracked Menegilda down as soon as she reached the Center Tunnel that led from the West Door to the front of the smials. She curtsied, somewhat shy of the Mistress’s companion, but knew there was nothing for it but to tell her Mistress why she had sought her out.

“What’s the matter, Ginger?” Gilda asked and let go of Bilbo’s arm in case he wished to continue to Saradoc’s apartment without her. Bilbo remained where he was.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mistress, but we’ve a problem in the kitchens,” Ginger began, fingering her skirts nervously. “We made a special batch of biscuits for Mr. Marmadas, mint chocolate to be exact, and now they’ve gone missing.”

“Missing?”

“Yes’m. They’re not on their reserve shelf, ma’am, and no one has taken them to be delivered yet. They’re just gone, and ‘tis the third time this week this has happened, ma’am. On Sterday, a triple-layer white cake went missing, and it was decorated special for Mistress Salvia. Then on Trewsday, a big bowl of tapioca pudding disappeared as Mr. Rufus had requested.”

“None of the servants could have taken them for themselves?” Gilda asked.

“Oh, no, Mistress! Not at all,” Ginger insisted fervently. “I’ve asked them all, and none of them know a thing.”

“Very well. I’ll ask Esmeralda to look into the matter,” Gilda decided. “In the meanwhile, step up the kitchen staff and have them be more mindful. I want someone to remain in the kitchen at all times to keep an eye out.”

“Yes’m. I’ll tell them straight away.” Ginger curtsied and returned to the kitchens.

Bilbo laughed under his breath and shook his head. “Some teen or tween playing pranks, most like,” he said.

“Everyone knows that the food on the reserve shelves is off-limits for plundering,” Gilda said sternly. “Whoever is stealing this food will have to be punished adequately. I cannot have my staff burdened with such pointless endeavourers as guarding food and cooking it twice.”  

Ginger and Gilda were not the only ones to receive news of missing food that day. Saradoc was finishing his weekly accounting when his father came into the library, where Saradoc liked to work. Rorimac’s brow was wrinkled into a deep frown, and his eyes were hard as steel. He approached Saradoc and did not wait for a greeting. “Where is Frodo?” he asked.

Sara looked at his father with alarm, then shrugged. “Hard to say. It’s Highday; he could be anywhere. He said something about taking Merry to the sweet shop in Bucklebury,” he answered.

Rory was not pleased with this answer. “I thought you were keeping closer track of the lad.”

“I was, but it wasn’t working,” Sara stated with restrained calm. “What is this about? Has Frodo done something?”

“He might have,” Rory said and held up a letter. Though the seal was broken, it was far too recognizable. “I received word from Maggot this morning: someone is stealing his mushrooms again.”

“And you think it’s Frodo,” Sara stated. He stood up and closed his ledgers. “Frodo has promised not to return there again.”

“That’s what he promised the last time, as you may recall. The lad isn’t exactly known for keeping his word,” Rory countered.

“Does Maggot have proof to accuse Frodo?” Saradoc asked.

“Other than the missing mushrooms and the fact that only Frodo has been bold enough to plunder his fields of late, no.”

Sara nodded at this. He understood the temptation to point fingers but he would need more than that before he allowed Frodo to be accused. “Frodo has lied in the past, I’ll grant you that, but he’s trying so hard now. I trust him,” Sara said, holding his father’s gaze steadily. “I have to trust him if this is to work. I’m not going to accuse him of misbehavior just because something’s gone missing, not without solid evidence. Frodo wasn’t the first lad to ever plunder Maggot’s fields, and he certainly won’t be the last.”

Rory nodded and his temper deflated. He sighed deeply and managed to look repentant. “You’re right, lad. He has been keeping his toes in line, for the most part. But it may be that he knows something anyway, if it’s one of those rascals he runs about with. Will you at least mention it to him?”

“I’ll mention it in passing at dinner, nothing more,” Sara promised. “Bilbo arrives today, so I doubt Frodo will be paying much attention to anything I have to say.”

“I’ll send word back to Maggot that we know nothing about the matter at this time,” Rory said. He still had his doubts, but he would trust to his son’s judgment on this. “I know it’s taken you and Esme a long time to get to this point with Frodo. I would not want you to risk that trust. It’s still too fragile to withstand such an accusation. If, however, it does turn out to be him, you know the conditions I have set.”

“I know them, and so does Frodo. He will not risk betraying you or us,” Sara answered. He picked up his ledgers and walked with his father out of the library.  

Gil Banks rode up to the stable and shooed away the ostler who dashed out to take the pony. “I’ll see to her,” he said as he dismounted. He walked the mare through the open stable doors and down one of the many rows to her stall. He led the pony in and removed her saddle and harness, as well as the thin blanket that had covered the pony during the long, cold day. He saw to brushing her down and seeing her settled from the ride to Newbury and back.

He was quietly muttering into her ear some soothing praise about her good-tempered nature when he heard the shuffling of feet outside the stall door, and someone urging another to be silent. Curious, he patted the pony’s shoulder in farewell and left the stall, looking up the row as he latched the stall door closed. He smiled at what he saw.

“Merry becoming a bit too much for you Frodo?” he called jokingly, for the lad was desperately trying to keep Merry’s little fingers out of his food satchel.

Frodo’s head shot up at the call and his face flushed momentarily. Then he wrested the satchel away from a disappointed Merry and stood up to face his friend. “Hullo Gil,” he said, not meeting the joke in kind, and instead growing quite serious. “Was your visit to Newbury productive?”

Gil nodded and joined his friend, planning to walk with him back to Brandy Hall. “It was,” he said. “I was able to contract a foreman and his workers to start on building us a home come next year. We’ll be going over the blueprints tomorrow.”

“Fuchsia must be excited,” Frodo said, his voice steady as he and Merry trailed behind Gil out of the stable, Merry still trying to sneak into Frodo’s satchel whenever he thought his cousin wasn’t paying attention.

“She is, surprisingly enough,” Gil replied. “I was worried she wouldn’t consent to moving to Branbourne, but she enjoyed herself when she and Piper went up last month. It helps that she and Piper have become friends. She’ll have companionship soon enough, once Edon and Piper marry,” Gil said, continuing to stroll forward. He smiled down at Frodo, only then noticing that Frodo was no longer at his side. He looked back and found Frodo still at the stable doors, Merry’s hand held tightly in his.

“Frodo, you’re pinching me,” Merry complained.

Frodo didn’t appear to hear. He was looking at Gil with an odd expression that Gil couldn’t quite decipher. “You’re really moving then?” he asked.

Gil nodded and walked back toward his friend. “I am.”

“Good. I’m glad for you. But, um, I need to get Merry home. Excuse us,” Frodo said suddenly, and pulled Merry along with him toward the Hall. He was almost at one of the many back doors when Gil caught up with them.

“Frodo, you do understand that my moving away has–”

“Has nothing to do with me? Of course I do. I’m sure you and Fuchsia will be very happy there. I know you’ve been wanting to go for some time,” Frodo replied, his voice light-hearted enough. He was so intent on Gil that he forgot altogether to pay any attention to Merry.

“Just because someone leaves, doesn’t mean that they’re abandoning those that are left behind,” Gil said. “You do understand that, don’t you?”

“I understand,” Frodo replied, ducking his head as he said it, so that he wasn’t looking Gil in the eyes. “I knew as soon as Edon decided to settle down there, you’d follow eventually. I think it’s wonderful that you’re willing to do that, considering there was a time that the two of you couldn’t even speak to each other without it resulting in insults. You’ve worked hard for this.”

“We have, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to forget those that remain behind. I’ll write to you all the time,” Gil said. “And we’ll all come for Yule, of course.”

Frodo nodded. “I know.”

“I just want to make sure–”

“You don’t owe me anything, Gil,” Frodo cut him off. “If you want to go, you should do so and not worry about me. I don’t mind. Really. Like I said, I’ve been expecting it.”

Whatever Gil would have replied to that was cut off by a high-pitched squeal from Merry as he finally fished out his prize from Frodo’s satchel. He held it up in the candlelight and squealed again. “Candy!”

Frodo whirled around and made a grab for the candy, but Merry was too quick for him. “Mine!” he cried and dashed off down the tunnel at a speed belying the child’s small stature. He was gone in a blink of an eye, but his voice could still be heard. “Mine!”

“Merry!” Frodo cried after him. Without another look back at his friend, he dashed off after his cousin. “I told you, you couldn’t have any more!”

Gil watched them go with a heavy heart. He always knew Frodo would take his leaving sorely and he had tried to ease the lad into the change, but it was of no use. The closer the date of the move grew, the more detached Frodo made himself, as though he believed he could make the change hurt less if he left the relationship first. Gil was at a loss of what to do and all of Piper’s sound advice has gone to nil.  

Saradoc returned to his apartments just after Gilda and Bilbo had settled themselves in the parlor. Gilda was just beginning to tell Esmeralda of the kitchen problem when Saradoc came in, pleasantly surprised at the company.

“Bilbo!” he exclaimed and embraced his cousin, then greeted his mother. He scanned the room quickly. “Where are Frodo and Merry?”

“I don’t know,” Esme answered. “They did not greet Bilbo on the road.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t be concerned, love,” Esme soothed. “You know how lads can get when they’ve had too many sweets. Frodo likely bought the sweet shop out and he and Merry got carried away with their snacking. They just lost track of time. Now that dark is setting outside, they’ll be home soon enough.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Sara said and took his ledgers into the study. He came back a minute later and sat with his family. “How was the journey, Bilbo?”

“Quite marvelous,” Bilbo answered. “There is nothing like open air and quiet fields to soothe the heart, but we’ll speak of that later as I’m sure Frodo will want to hear everything. There is no need for me to repeat myself. Besides, Gilda was telling your Esme of a problem.”

“Yes,” Gilda said and returned to her purpose. She told Esmeralda what Ginger had told her. “I want you to question the teens and tweens and find out what you can. I realize you've not had to deal with a problem of this magnitude before, but I'm confident you can manage it.”

Esme nodded her acceptance of the assignment, missing her husband’s troubled frown, for just then, a clambering sounded outside the door. A moment later, the door burst open and Merry came running in. He jumped onto his father’s lap and started bouncing excitedly. He held up a string with a cluster of sugar crystals hanging at the end of it.

“Look, Daddy! Frodo bought me sugar candy!” Merry exclaimed.

“He did? I never would have guessed,” Sara said, a smile smoothing the concern from his face.

Merry stopped bouncing and quirked his head at his father. He held the rock candy up further. “But this is sugar candy. What’s there to guess?”

The adults laughed, just as a much less-enthused Frodo entered the room and closed the door. “I’m sorry Aunt Esme, I tried my best to tire him out, but then he snuck another string from my bag just as we got here.”

“That’s all right, lad,” Esme assured. “Look who’s arrived.”

Frodo turned his head and he yelped with surprise, his worn expression brightening in an instant. “Bilbo! I thought you were coming tomorrow!” He dashed over to his cousin and hugged him fiercely.

Bilbo hugged Frodo back just as fiercely, then stepped back to kiss him upon the brow. Then he leaned down to pick up Merry, who had jumped off his father’s lap to wrap himself around Bilbo’s legs. “Is it tomorrow already?” he asked.

Bilbo ruffled Merry’s thick tangle of brown curls. “Was it supposed to be tomorrow then?” Bilbo said and shook his head. “I thought I had written in my last letter I’d be here by Highday. I’m getting quite forgetful in my old age, I’m afraid.”

“Perhaps it is I that forgot,” Frodo said and then shrugged. “But this is better. You’re a day earlier than I expected. It’s almost like getting an extra day. How was your journey? Did you come by the Woody End or the East Road, or north along the Water? What did you see? Where there elves or dwarves?”

“Elves and dwarves!” Merry echoed and giggled as Bilbo bounced him up and down. “I got sugar candy,” he announced again and held up the candy for Bilbo to see. “Only you can’t have any, because Frodo didn’t get you none.”

“Merry!” Esme scolded as the others laughed.

“I ran out of money,” Frodo explained. “They had free samples of fudge squares, and Merry took more than his share. I owe the shopkeeper two farthings.”

“Remind me in the morning and I’ll see you’re settled,” Saradoc assured. “Come along now everyone. Dinner is about to be served. We’ll go to the dining hall and learn all we need to know of Bilbo’s journey as we eat.”

“And you, Frodo-lad, can tell me what you and Merry have been up to all day, as I can’t believe even the two of you could spend all day in a sweet shop,” Bilbo said.

“Well, no,” Frodo said, a bit reluctant to elaborate at first. Finally, he said, “We went to the pond, and then up to Crafter’s Field, then we came back here for a bit, then to the River, and now we’re back again.”

“I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

“Only if you tell us of your journey first.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, my lad,” Bilbo said and patted Frodo on the shoulder. He followed the others out of the room, his stomach rumbling for a proper meal.

To be continued…
 
 
 

GF 12/5/05