18 ~ Memories

I arrive at Crickhollow just in time for dinner. Merry is at the door to greet me. I glance around, a bit nervous. The house doesn’t look damaged, but I can feel it. They were here.

“It’s not so bad inside,” Merry assures me, rubbing his arm absentmindedly. “But you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.”

“And miss out on your company?” I say with a small smile. “It’s only been two weeks and I miss you already.” My shoulder is beginning to feel cold.

Merry grins, tethering Strider to the front porch. Then he looks serious as he observes my pained expression. “It was really bad when we first moved here. Pippin couldn’t feel it, but I could.”

I put an arm around his shoulders and we walk inside to where Pippin and Sam are setting the table. The feeling of darkness is all but gone in here, and I feel more relaxed.

Pippin sees me and starts bouncing over to me. I am sure he is the reason it feels so different in here.

“Hullo Frodo!” he says. “You came just in time for dinner! Brend is really happy you’re coming. He’s nervous about getting married, but Violet is absolutely gorgeous, and I can tell they’re in love.”

I smile. “What smells so good?” I ask, glancing around at the food on the table.

“That is Sam’s first attempt to teach Pippin how to cook,” Merry says, coming up behind us as Sam sets a loaf of bread on the table.

“It looks edible,” I state, giving Pippin a surprised look.

“I did mention that Sam was helping him, didn’t I?” Merry adds.

“Ah, that’s the reason,” I say, ruffling up Pippin’s hair.

Pippin grins. “Just you wait ‘till I try it all by myself. Then you’ll both have to eat all of what I make,” he says impishly.

Sam looks scared. “I would run away if I were you, Frodo,” he says, stepping up to me.

“That would be the wisest decision,” I reply. I smile at Sam. “Rosie said to tell you she misses you.”

Merry and Pippin grin mischievously as Sam blushes.

“Come on, Sam, it’s nearly March. You’ve been home for almost four and a half months already, when are you going to ask her to marry you?” Pippin says impatiently.

“When I’m good and ready,” Sam replies, sending Pippin a look that silences him.

“Well, supper’s ready,” Merry says. “So let’s eat, and hope Pippin’s cooking is as good as it smells. Gen invited us over to see his family for supper. You’ll love his kids, Frodo, they’re absolutely wonderful!”

* * *

Gen’s wife, Heather, greets us at the door and ushers us in. She’s a very pretty hobbit, with long dark curls and stunning grey eyes. She appears quite a bit younger than Gen, but they are happy together with their three children, Lily, who’s seven, Ruby, who’s five, and Brend, who just turned two.

They are adorable children, and Brend reminds me of his father.

“Brend and I made a deal,” Gen explains to me. “I name my first son after him, and he’d name his first son after me.”

We head into the dining room as Heather sets supper on the table. Whatever she made smells good, though I am not really that hungry.

“It’s good to see you again, Frodo, for something other than business. How’ve you been?” Gen asks.

“Well enough,” I reply. “Signing and filing papers all day isn’t what I’d call enjoyable, but it keeps me busy. What about you?” I ask, making sure I take only very small portions of each food. Sam frowns at me, but I pretend not to notice.

“I’m the same as always. Traveling across the Shire with the Post,” Gen states. “I’m not gone as much as I used to, but I’m usually gone at least two days a week.”

“He ran into me on my way to Crickhollow, Frodo,” Sam tells me.

Gen nods. “I was very pleased to meet him. I’m glad you’ve got Sam for a friend, Frodo. He’s a good hobbit.”

Sam blushes, but says nothing.

Suddenly Heather looks at me, and says, “Pardon me if I sound forward, but I was wondering how old you are? Gen talks as though you were growing up together, but you don’t look old enough.”

“I’m 52,” I reply. “Same as Gen. Actually I’m nearly six months older than Gen.” I notice her expression change to wide-eyed surprise.

“I would never have guessed! I thought you were Merry’s age at the most,” she exclaims.

“Must have taken after your uncle Bilbo,” Gen says, looking at me with a strange expression. “He never seemed to age either.”

I nod absently. Taken after him in more than just looks.

Pippin glances at me, then says, “Why don’t you tell the children the story about the dwarves visiting Bilbo.”

I smile at him, thankful that he’s changed the subject.

Gen smiles. “That’s a great idea! You’re the best story teller I know,” he states.

Sam looks at me encouragingly, as Heather asks the children if they want to hear a story. They all say yes, so I begin to tell the tale of when Gandalf sent Thorin and his gang of dwarves to Bag End.

* * *

Uncle Sara and Aunt Esme are here today for luncheon. Pippin decided to let Sam make the meal today, even though his cooking last night wasn’t too bad.

We’ve already eaten, and they are sitting in the parlor with Merry and Pippin while I help Sam get the table cleared.

I hear Uncle Sara ask Merry something about the Quest and Sam pauses to listen.

“T’wasn’t all that bad, really,” Merry says.

“We always seemed to get new clothes,” Pippin adds. “At least I did in Gondor. But I was glad I didn’t lose my scarf on the way.”

They continue to talk about clothes on the Quest, and I pick up a glass pitcher. I freeze a moment later when I see a small black thing moving towards me on the table.

“Sam!” I yell, backing up and accidentally dropping the pitcher. It immediately crashes to a million pieces as Sam comes up to me, and Merry, Pippin, Aunt Esme and Uncle Sara dash into the room.

“It’s just a spider, Frodo,” Sam assures me as he grabs a napkin and squishes it. “There, now. Are you all right?”

I nod, though my knees are weak, and I am trying to breathe normally.

“Take him into the parlor,” Merry says. “Pip and I will clean this up.”

Uncle Sara and Aunt Esme follow us into the parlor where Sam and I sit down on the couch. I am trembling now and lean against Sam for support.

“I don’t know what’s come over me,” I say, steadying my voice. “I know it was only a spider, but…”

“It’s all right, dear. You’ve a right to be afraid of it if anyone does,” Sam replies.

“Why?” Aunt Esme questions. “What’s happened?”

Uncle Sara puts a hand on her arm as if to tell her, “Not now.”

“Sam?” I say, a sudden thought making my heart begin to pound again. “What if it bit me?”

“Doesn’t do no good to think of such things, Frodo,” he says, as I rest my head on his shoulder. “It didn’t happen. And you know that Merry, Pippin and I won’t let it happen if we can stop it.”

I smile and say, “Thank you Sam.” I pause for a moment, then say, “I feel so foolish. I should be able to take care of myself.”

Sam pulls me closer. “You’re not helpless Frodo. But things are different now, and you’ll need our help for a while yet if things are going to get better.”

I close my eyes and sigh.

“It’s like when your Mum and Da passed, and you needed Mr. Bilbo and me to help you.”

“Only this is worse, Sam,” I whisper, almost afraid to admit that, even to Sam.

“I know dear,” Sam replies, then is silent and just holds me for a while.