Chapter 6

Arrangements were made, but not of the kind Saradoc and Esmeralda had been expecting.

They returned to their apartment an hour after the party to find the rooms dark and silent. They quickly lit a lamp and went to Frodo’s room. From the doorway, they could see Frodo fast asleep with Merry tucked into his side, the child’s little fingers wrapped tightly around his cousin’s curls. They turned to their own bed then, just as exhausted as their young charges. They would plan nothing further that night, and the days that followed brought them no closer to a conclusion, nor were they able to get anything out of Frodo other than “yes’m” and “no sir”.

Finally, on the morning before Bilbo was to leave, he came calling at his usual time and after first breakfast, he ushered Frodo outside into the crisp autumn air. They bundled themselves up tight in coats and muffs, and walked briskly through the gardens to help themselves keep warm. After a time, Bilbo turned to face Frodo.

“There are a few things I wish to discuss with you, Frodo, before I leave,” Bilbo started.

Frodo nodded. He had been expecting as such. Try as he might to pretend everything was back to normal, Frodo often found himself brooding and every time he glanced into a looking glass, he saw nothing but a forlorn and lost expression staring back at him. He hated himself for being so dour, but he couldn’t help his mood.

Things at home have been more than a little shaky since the birthday party. Esme and Sara were still feeling horrible, which made Frodo feel even worse, which in turn made Esme and Sara worry even more. Poor little Merry was rather stuck in the middle, torn between his loyalty to his parents and to Frodo. Merry had too often been placed in this position, since he first became aware that there was a position to take, and the burden of it was affecting him as well. Frodo did what he could to help ease the child’s mind, but Merry too readily picked up on his mood, and the fact that Frodo was reluctant to play with Merry outside of Esme’s sight didn’t help matters.

Frodo sat on the edge of a nearby bench, but Bilbo shook his head. “Not here. Let’s walk down to the River. This old hobbit needs his exercise.”

Frodo managed a weak smile at that and followed Bilbo out of the gardens. Before long, they were on the lane heading toward the River, with not another soul in sight – or hearing range. There were many flowering bushes and vines along the path, and the trees were an array of dazzling reds, yellows and oranges. They walked in silence for many long minutes, Bilbo taking in the beauty surrounding him while Frodo merely watched the dirt pass beneath his feet.

“It’s plain that you’ve seen better days,” Bilbo went on now, “but that still doesn’t tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. What are you thinking, my lad?”

Frodo shrugged.

“Now, now. None of that. We’ll be keeping no more secrets between us. Out with it.”

Frodo continued to watch the path and at first it didn’t seem he would comply. Bilbo waited patiently though and after a time Frodo let out a frustrated and lonesome sigh. “You want to know what I think? I think I hate it here.”

“Now, Frodo,” Bilbo said, but Frodo cut him off.

“I do,” he insisted. “Everyone’s always whispering and suggesting that I’m going to end in a bad way. Every time there’s a large feast or gathering, there’s always someone who has to go and start the rumors about my parents again, and I finally figured out what ‘more than a half a Brandybuck’ means. They think my dad’s the reason Mama never had more kids and they think the only reason she had me was because it wasn’t with Dad. They think my dad found out and they had a fight about it while they were boating and that’s why they drowned. They think I’m a nuisance to Sara and Esme and that I should be more grateful to them for putting up with me all these years, seeing as they never signed anything legal saying they have to but they do anyway.”

“Who said such things?” Bilbo demanded. He would throttle the culprits for speaking such mean untruths and not feel a bit sorry about it either.

“It doesn’t matter,” Frodo said, “because I asked Esme if it was true, if she and Saradoc never signed anything, and she said it was. I don’t belong to them, not really, and I don’t belong here. They always want me to spend more time with the good children, but the good children are so utterly boring, always playing the same games and going to the same places and having the same dreadful conversations. They never want to do anything I suggest and they always look at me like I’m a raving lunatic for suggesting such things, for thinking that elves are grand and that dragons really used to exist. The only ones who do anything exciting are the so-called rascals and even if they think I’m crazy, they don’t give me any grief about it. They defend me even and none of the other kids give me grief anymore either and that’s because of them. They protect me, and I had forgotten how nice that felt, to be protected. And now I can’t hang about them anymore because Sara and Esme and Rory and Gilda and Del and everyone else with an opinion to say so thinks they’re a bad influence on me.

“I wasn’t lying when I told Fendi and Morti I’ve been restless. I want to be good and do right by everyone, but I can’t stop myself from wanting a bit of excitement. They just don’t understand that and I can’t stand it anymore. They never did trust me and I can’t so much as sneeze without being drilled by every relation in the Hall. I feel like if I don’t get out of here soon, I really will go mad. Spring is too far away.”

“Do you feel better now?” Bilbo asked.

Frodo shook his head. “No.”

Bilbo steered them off the path to cut through the trees. Frodo mindlessly stomped through the leaves, much as a child at play would do but for the frown on his lips and the crease between his eyebrows. He took his frustrations out on the dry and fragile leaves, filling the air with the sound of their crinkling as they were crushed underfoot.

“Don’t bother yourself with trying to please everyone,” Bilbo said now. “You’ll never be able to do so and that will, as you say, drive you mad. The only ones you need worry yourself about are Saradoc and Esmeralda. So long as they’re satisfied, that’s all that matters. Everyone else can bay like wolves at the moon for all you should care. Having been accused of being mad for nearly half my life, I know what I’m talking about. Do you think I care about what anyone thinks or says about what I choose to do, about my wanderings and speaking with elves and going on adventures and staying a bachelor all these years? They’d badger at me until my ears fell off if I let them. Pish posh to them! If any of them ever had an original thought, they’d die from the shock of it. … Ah, there’s the smile I’ve missed these last two days.”

“Bilbo,” Frodo started, smile still in place but waning quickly. At least he was no longer waging war on the leaves. “It’s not the same though.”

“I know it’s not. I can get away from all the gossip and you can’t, but you can still choose not to listen to it. It’s easier said than done, but practice makes perfect as they say. You’ll get better at it the more you try and before you know it, all those witless rumors will be sliding right off your back,” Bilbo said. “As for being restless, perhaps you could persuade those rascals of yours to spend their time in less devious ways; you can be very persuasive when you put your mind to it, Frodo. If not, I find that the younger generations tend to be more open-minded about what games to play and what’s considered a healthy imagination.”

“Like anyone is going to trust me with their children,” Frodo said bitterly. “I don’t even feel comfortable taking Merry out of the apartment anymore.”

“You and your guardians are stuck in a very fine mess, I must admit. All I can say is don’t be too hard on them, Frodo,” Bilbo said. “I know they broke their word, but considering how many times you have done likewise and been forgiven, I would think you would now be able to forgive them in turn.”

Frodo sighed and came to a standstill beneath a copse of birch trees. He sighed deeply, his breath misting the air around him. His cheeks were flushed from the walk and the cold. He toed the leaves at his feet and looked up at the clear, blue sky and the small but bright sun hanging low on the horizon still.

“It’s not that, Bilbo,” he said at last. “I’m not angry at them, just myself. If I hadn’t lied all those times before, if I hadn’t messed up so much, there never would have been any need for them to doubt me. They say it’s not my fault, but it is. Everything that’s happened since last summer is all my fault.”

“You never meant harm when you would go off and act out like you used to,” Bilbo said kindly. “You certainly did not mean for Merry to follow you to Maggot’s fields and your decision to keep him close to you was the best you could make. You may have perhaps thought of a different way of getting down that cliff, but you did tell Merry to be careful of his footing, coaching him all the way. He slipped, he fell.”

“It was an accident, I know that,” Frodo said. “But going back again afterwards was not, and neither were any of the other number of things I’ve done.” Frodo stalled for a moment, uncertain still. Bilbo waited, knowing the tween was trying to organize his thoughts. At last, Frodo said, “Why, Bilbo? Why do I do these things? Why do I make promises and then break them? Why do I do such stupid things when I know it’s wrong? What’s wrong with me?”

“Oh Frodo,” Bilbo exclaimed and hugged Frodo briefly. He stepped back, but kept his hands on Frodo’s shoulders. He looked into the lad’s troubled and self-berating eyes with a fierceness Frodo had never seen before. “There is nothing wrong with you and from what you said earlier, it seems clear that you were simply frustrated and didn’t know a better way of dealing with your problems. You just listen to my advice and see if that doesn’t help.”

Frodo nodded. “I will.”

“Good,” Bilbo said and smiled, and in an instant he was the same cheerful Bilbo he had ever been. He wrapped an arm around Frodo’s shoulders and set them to walking again. “Now, about Sara and Esme. You need to work things out with them, Frodo.”

“I’m trying.”

“Are you? It seems to me that you’re all too scared to even looked at each other, much less talk,” Bilbo said. “That won’t do, my lad.

“They love you Frodo, and only want what’s best for you. Yet they feel that they are the ones who are constantly failing you rather than the other way around, and so comes my last piece of advice. The three of you are going to have to start speaking more plainly with each other, no more of these half-truths, and it’s going to have to start with you. When they upset you, tell them. And when they make you happy, tell them. Tell them when you’re feeling lonely or frustrated, when you’re getting restless and need something to do. You’re never going to have the relationship with them that you want to have if you keep on with the same old tricks.

“And you were being tricky, Frodo. You know you should have told your guardians what you were up to with those bookmarkers, but you didn’t because you were waiting to see if they really meant it about trusting you. That was a dangerous game to play, Frodo-lad, and it’s got you all in a world of hurt. How can they trust you if you don’t tell them anything, if you spend all your time doing who knows what? They gave you every benefit of every doubt that they could, but there comes a time when you just can’t look aside any longer. Even I was beginning to have my doubts.

“So, as I said earlier, no more secrets and no more sneaking about. You will continue to behave exactly as you have been these last several months, only this time, you will tell them where you are going, what you are doing and how you are spending your time. That’s what families do. It’s not monitoring, it’s sharing, and you, Frodo Baggins, need to start sharing more of yourself. Start being more open with them and they will trust you. You’re old enough now to understand that you can’t have it both ways.”

Frodo was silent for several long moments, and did not speak again until they emerged from the trees and stood upon the riverbank. He stared out at the rushing waters. “Share?” he asked at length. “Everything?”

“Everything. No more secrets,” Bilbo said, his voice and expression softer. “I know it can be frightening to let someone in, but it won’t get any easier the longer you wait.”

Finally, Frodo nodded. “I will share,” he said and meant it.

Bilbo sat on the grass and Frodo followed. They sat tailor-style and watched and listened to the river flow past. After a few moments, Bilbo chuckled. “Did I ever tell you about the time I stole my father’s pocket watch?”

“No,” Frodo said, intrigued.

“Oh, it’s true. I was a burglar long before Gandalf whisked me away on that adventure of his,” Bilbo said. “You see, my father’s pocket watch had a compass, as it had once belonged to my mother’s baby brother from when he took off to Sea. It was an amazing watch: you lifted the face off the watch, and beneath it was the compass, as easy as you please, telling you exactly where north was.

“I wasn’t more than your age at the time, and my friends wouldn’t believe me when I told them about it. Well, I wasn’t about to have that, so one day, I snuck into the study and stole the watch from the desk drawer. Well, as can be expected, there was a horrible accident, and the watch was broken. But instead of telling my father what happened, I snuck back into the study and put the watch right back where I found it before he could notice it was missing.”

“You didn’t!”

“I did. He was furious when he found out and that little trick earned me quite a long stay in my room. He had to then go out and buy a new, plainer watch, and to his dying day, he would not let me near the thing. He even went so far as to leave it to my Uncle Bingo.”

“So you’re trying to say that losing their trust isn’t so bad?” Frodo said, a bit bemused at the comparison.

“Oh, I know it isn’t the same thing,” Bilbo went on. “But he didn’t stop loving me, and he did leave me the old Winnyards, didn’t he? All I’m saying is there very well might always be that seed of mistrust with Saradoc and Esmeralda, but that isn’t to say they don’t love you. And love, Frodo, is all you really need.”

“But what’s love without trust?” Frodo asked.

“It’s still love,” Bilbo said. “Plain and simple, elaborate and complex, as all the best things in life are. Love will never lead you astray.”

Frodo considered this in silence. They went back to watching the river. With the trees at their backs blocking the crisp, cold air, they were able to admire the scene as long as they pleased. Frodo passed his hand over the daffodils that lingered still in the ground, not yet frozen from the chill air. When next he looked up at the water, he seemed to look far away.

“I made a boat once, a small one, with Edon’s help,” he said. “I put it in the River and sent it to my parents. That’s why the dreams stopped.”

“There’s more to this tale, I gather,” Bilbo said.

Frodo nodded and slowly, the story about his run into the Old Forest, and everything that became of it, was told. When Frodo finished, he squinted at the River and went on. “When I started dreaming again, I thought maybe it was because the boat had found my parents and was taking them someplace to rest. Then I realized that it was me on the boat and that it wasn’t the same boat that I had made. I could never see the boat, of course, but somehow I knew it wasn’t the same one, just like I knew it wasn’t taking me to my parents. I wish I knew what it meant.”

“Some dreams don’t mean anything,” Bilbo stated.

“This one does.”

Soon after, their stomachs told them it was time to eat. They stood and turned back toward the Hall, and by the time they reached the path again, Frodo’s step was lighter and his shoulders freer.  

After elevenses, Bilbo met with Saradoc and Rorimac in the Master’s study. Rory bypassed the desk in favor of the stuffed chairs at the corner of the room and the three of them sat comfortably around a small tea table. Rory and Sara were curious to know why Bilbo had requested to meet with them, but they exchanged pleasantries first, until Rory could take it no more. He looked between Sara and Bilbo, then turned to Bilbo. “So, what is this about, Bilbo?”

“I want to talk about Frodo,” Bilbo said. “I’m sure you’ve heard at least part of what happened the other night.”

“I have,” Rory said. “Not just part of it, but the whole tale. A terrible misunderstanding and most unfortunately timed.”

“But you have not heard the full tale,” Bilbo said. “Not as I’ve heard it, and seen it, and that, my friend, is what I want to talk about.” So Bilbo, with input from Saradoc when called upon, told the Master what has been happening with Frodo for the last several months, and Sara told his father of his and Esme’s concerns.

“This is really nothing new to me, Bilbo,” Rory said when they finished.

“What I have to say now is,” Bilbo replied. He looked between his friends with firm assertion. “If Sara and Esme can’t make things work, or if Frodo decides he wants to leave, I would like for Frodo to come and live with me at Bag End permanently.”

This gave both Rory and Saradoc pause. They took time to process what Bilbo had said, and finally Saradoc nodded. He couldn’t have dreamt of a better solution. “That would be for the best, I think. He adores you and always enjoys the time he spends there. My only concern is Merry, if Frodo should move so far away.”

“Merry will be more than welcome to visit whenever he pleases, as will you and Esme of course,” Bilbo said. “There’s certainly no reason Frodo could not come back here to visit as well, whenever he wishes.”

“Having the lad visit for the spring and having him live there permanently is quite a difference,” Rory said now. “You will have to take over sole responsibility for him and you won’t be able to wander about the fields as you please. You’ll have to settle yourself down. Are you certain about this, Bilbo? I don’t want to get Frodo’s hopes up, only to have you decide you aren’t able to keep up with the lad.”

“I assure you, I’m more than capable of keeping up with him,” Bilbo said. “I know how wily tweens can be and I’m certain Frodo will be twice as much as the average; I am prepared for that. As for being settled down, I am more than willing to cease my longer journeys, and there is no reason Frodo can’t accompany me on shorter hikes; he does now anyway. I am quite set on this. I was going to bring up the matter anyway before I left; this only makes me more certain of my decision. You see, I don’t want to be Frodo’s guardian at all. I want to adopt him.”

“Adopt him?” Saradoc said, as shocked as his father. They exchanged brief looks.

“Yes, adopt him,” Bilbo repeated. “I’m getting older, though I may not look it. I’m far past the time I can have a family of my own. I always look forward to the lad’s visits and miss him when he’s gone. More than that, I’ve seen the effect that living here has had on Frodo, and while you do the best you can, you simply cannot take away the memories this place holds for him. Everywhere he looks, every place he goes and everything he hears reminds of his losses. He needs a change of scenery and he needs one quick. Also, on the more pragmatic side, I need an heir, and Frodo is the perfect Baggins to succeed me as Master of the Hill.”

“How are you planning to broach this with Frodo?” Rory asked.

“I’m not,” Bilbo said. “Not yet, at any rate. I think it’s best we let Sara and Esme have another go of it. We don’t want Frodo leaving here with bitter feelings towards them. Let’s give it till Yule. I’ll come and visit for the holiday and if things are not patching up, I’ll have Frodo come back to Hobbiton with me then, as an extended visit through to the spring when he would usually come. Then, at the end of that time, when Sara and Esme come to retrieve the lad, we can sit him down and discuss our options. If he’s agreeable to staying with me, he may return here to enjoy one last summer with you and prepare for the move, then I will come again before the autumn season begins and take him home. This will also give me the time I need to prepare for him living with me and arrange the adoption papers, of which I hope the two of you will agree to be witnesses.”

“You certainly have thought this out,” Rory said, impressed with the plan. He turned to Sara. “Son? What do you think?”

“I can’t deny that Frodo does well under your care, Bilbo,” Sara said. “Hobbiton does seem to agree with him. I’ll have to talk it over with Esme first, but we both only want what is best for Frodo. I’m sure she’ll be agreeable to the plan, though it will break both our hearts to see him go. It will be hardest on Merry.”

“We have plenty of time to figure out visiting arrangements,” Bilbo said.

At last, Rory nodded. “Very well. We’ll try it and see what happens. Speak with Esme, and I’ll speak with Gilda. I think it best if knowledge of the plan did not travel any further than that for the time being. The next one to find out about it will be Frodo at the end of next spring.”

Bilbo and Saradoc readily agreed, but Bilbo was not yet satisfied. He gave Rory a cold glare. “Now, about this ultimatum. Saradoc and Esme won’t be able to foster an open relationship with Frodo with such a threat looming over the lad’s head. Not only that, but if the time should come, I don’t want Frodo to feel in any way that my asking him to live with me is because he is no longer welcome here. He may not have said so, but the weight of your rule has burdened him greatly. I want you to lift it. It’s counterproductive and it’s no longer needed at any rate. Frodo is, and always has been, capable of behaving himself without such threats.”

Saradoc couldn’t help but smile at seeing his father scolded. “You know I agree,” he said. “As does Esmeralda. You would never impose such a punishment upon any other child in this Hall. It is unfair to Frodo and only serves to alienate him further.”

Rory set his jaw stubbornly and drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair. He seemed ready to protest but when he spoke he said, “Very well, so long as he understands that he will still be punished should he begin to act up again.”

“He won’t act up,” Saradoc said, and they left it at that.

Then they pulled out their pipes and spoke of more mundane things for the rest of the morning.  

“Do you have to go so soon, Bilbo?” Frodo asked the next day as Bilbo stood packing in his guest room. Frodo was lingering in the little room, feigning to help Bilbo pack, folding and refolding the same green shirt.

“I’m afraid I do, Frodo, my lad,” Bilbo said.

“But why tonight?” Frodo asked. “Wouldn’t it be better to wait until morning?”

“Ah, but you see, all the best adventures begin at night,” Bilbo said with a wink and a smile. He gently took the shirt from Frodo and put it in his pack, which he now strapped closed. “Have you spoken to Esme and Sara yet?”

“Not yet. I don’t really know where to start.”

“Wherever you start, start soon,” Bilbo said. “I want to see the three of you happy and smiling again before I leave.”

“I just wish you didn’t have to go so soon,” Frodo said forlornly. “You’ve just arrived.”

“I know, my lad, but I’ve duties to perform at home and I must be on the road before it gets too much colder. I don’t want to be caught in a rainstorm, after all,” Bilbo reasoned. “Tell you what, you can come back to Hobbiton with me after my Yule visit. How’s that?”

“Can’t I go with you now?” Frodo asked hopefully.

Bilbo shook his head firmly. “You need to stay here and work things out with your guardians. You owe them that much. Now get on with you. Find Saradoc and Esme, wherever they might be, and tell them something, anything. Just talk to them, Frodo.”

“But-”

“Go.” Bilbo pointed out the door. Frodo slid off the bed with a pout and left. Bilbo watched him go and sent a plea up to the stars that they might help to light the lad’s path.  

Frodo sought out his guardians as Bilbo had told him to do. He went to the apartment first and there he found them in the study sitting on the settee, speaking in hushed tones and leaning toward each other, their foreheads resting together. Frodo didn’t want to interrupt and was about to leave when Saradoc looked up and beckoned him in. They sat up but their hands remained clasped.

“Do you need something Frodo?” Saradoc asked.

Frodo nodded.

“What do you need, dear?” Esme asked.

Frodo bit his bottom lip uncertainly but with Bilbo’s request still fresh in his mind, he took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I just wanted to say sorry for not telling you about my surprise for Bilbo. I was talking to Bilbo and think he was right: I think I did it to see if you meant it about trusting me, but that wasn’t the way to go about it. And I should have told you about my suspicions about Hilda when she first gave me the biscuits, but there had been nothing said about thievery yet. Besides, she’s been so nice to Merry and me and she’s had to put up with a lot of rumors herself, seeing as she has the misfortune of being a Bracegirdle and Lobelia’s cousin, and no one here really likes Lobelia and they seem to be taking that out on Hilda, which isn’t very fair. But Bilbo also said that families are supposed to share, so I’ll try to tell you more from now on and not be so secretive.”

“That would be wonderful,” Esme said. “I so often wonder what goes on in that head of yours. Whenever you feel like talking about anything, we’re here to listen.”

“Bilbo said I should share everything with you,” Frodo said again. He shuffled his feet and looked between his guardians, who were watching him intently, just as uncertain as he was. He licked his lips and continued. “So I’m going to share. For instance, this afternoon at luncheon, I didn’t eat my collard greens. In fact, I never eat my collard greens. I tuck them in my napkin and take them out to the stables and feed them to the ponies. I talk to the ostlers while I’m there and sometimes they tell interesting jokes and stories about their homelands, and sometimes they’re playing gambling games, which is why I can be so late getting back at times. I’ve grown quite good at cups but I never bet anything; they let me play for free.

“Then, this morning after second breakfast, I thought that a bath would be nice but I’ve been in such a mood lately that I forgot to knock first and walked in on Aunt Alamanda, and now I believe I’m what Fendi would say is ‘scarred for life.’ Last Yule, when Merry told that bawdy joke to Aunt Ami, I was the one who told it to him and told him that it was Ami’s favorite joke.”

“That was you?” Sara asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as Esme laughed at the memory of Ami’s flabbergasted reaction.

Frodo nodded. “It was. I was also the one who told him that streaking through the formal Summer Feast was a tradition that every lad had to do at least once. Then I told him that Berilac set the record for doing it ten times. I didn’t know Merry could be so competitive. Thankfully, he can’t count yet, so when they finally caught him after the fourth time, I was able to tell him that he set the new record.”

“Anything else?” Esme asked, trying with difficulty not to laugh. Saradoc wasn’t being so successful.

Frodo nodded again. “Yes, several things actually, too many to get into right now, but I’ll be telling you everything from here on out. Bilbo said that you can’t build trust when you’re keeping secrets, so I won’t do that anymore.”

“We’re glad to hear it,” Saradoc said when he finally had control of himself again. “That will help us greatly, but you must realize that you will be treated the same as any other child in the Hall and won’t be exempt from suspicion should anything of mischief occur, nor will you be excluded from punishments when they are called for. Understand?”

“Yes, Uncle Sara, but I won’t be doing anything bad anymore. I know what my punishment will be if I do.”

“Actually, your Uncle Rory lifted the ultimatum yesterday,” Esme said.

“He did?” Frodo asked in shock. “Why?”

“It’s not needed anymore,” Esme stated simply.

And for the first time in several days, Frodo smiled with genuine cheer. “Truly?”

Saradoc nodded. “Truly. Esme and I never did agree with it, and we know you’ll behave yourself. But just because you’re being good, don’t think that you’re not allowed to have fun. You just need to learn the difference between fun and mischief. Stealing things is wrong, having Merry pull harmless pranks is fun. See?”

“Saradoc,” Esme scolded softly, elbowing her husband in the ribs. She turned to Frodo with an exasperated shake of her head. “If you’re ever in doubt, just ask one of us, preferably me.”

Frodo nodded. “I was thinking I’d find Merry and take him exploring in the mathom rooms, if I may.”

Esme nodded. “You may, so long as you have him back and washed in time for supper.”

“I will,” Frodo promised and left in a hurry, feeling better than he had in a week.

“Well, what do you make of that?” Esme said when the door had closed behind Frodo.

“That Bilbo should come visit more often,” Saradoc stated.

“I don’t think he’ll be having to visit much longer,” Esme said with a sad sigh, resting her forehead against her husband’s again. “Even if we do patch things up, Bilbo is offering Frodo more than we ever could.”

“At least now we can patch things up, and that’s all that matters,” Saradoc said.

There was still much work to be done and much trust to be rebuilt, but now they could hope that things might be mended after all, especially if Frodo would be leaving after Yule. They did not want Frodo’s last memories of Buckland to be sour, for as much as they might want to wish otherwise, they knew that Frodo would not be coming back to live with them once he left. He would return only to collect his belongings and set things right with Merry, then he’ll be gone for good.  

“Bye, Bilbo!” Merry said. “Be careful! Keep away from the trolls!”

“I give you my word, Meriadoc,” Bilbo said, “that I will stay clear of all dangers.” He winked at the lad and said his good-byes to Saradoc and Esmeralda. Then he hugged Frodo and kissed his brow. “I want to thank you again for my present, Frodo. And you too, Merry. I absolutely adore them and I know already which books I’m going to use those markers in.”

“If anyone is in need of bookmarkers, it’s you, Bilbo,” Frodo teased. “I’ve never seen a body with so many books, and those don’t even count all the ones Hugo keeps borrowing.”

“And not returning,” Bilbo said with a laugh as he shouldered his pack. He gave everyone a final wave good-bye. “I’ll see you at Yule, then.”

“At Yule,” Frodo agreed, already looking forward to it. The promise of spending both winter and spring with his cousin was a glorious one that couldn’t come soon enough.

They saw him off down the road, waving until he was out of sight. Then, together as one, they turned and went back into the Hall.
 
 

The end.
 
 
 
 

GF 12/22/05