25 ~ Home

“Where are you taking me?” I ask as Sam leads me along blindfolded down the path.

“To my birthday present for you,” Sam replies.

“This is payback for yesterday, isn’t it?” I ask, gripping his arm tightly so as not to stumble on the rocky path. He only laughs.

“Sam, we’d better get there quickly because I’m beginning to feel a bit claustrophobic in here,” I say.

We stop abruptly after climbing four or five winding stairs.

“We’re there,” he says.

“Shouldn’t we make him wait just a little longer?” I hear Pippin’s voice. “He looks so funny with that blindfold on.”

I hear Merry laugh and say, “He’s been waiting long enough, Pip. Are you ready, Frodo?”

“Of course he’s ready,” Sam exclaims, putting his hands on my shoulders. I feel someone untie the blindfold and I find myself standing in front of the open door of Bag End. I’ve seen the outside, and knew that it had been fixed, but no one ever allowed me inside. I had been sure that it would take till at least June to be finished, since Sam has been so busy lately.

“Go on in, dearest,” Sam whispers in my ear.

I glance at Merry and Pippin, standing on my left, smiling at me encouragingly, and step into my hole.

I look around the entryway and down the hall for a moment, before breathing deep and entering further. It smells of paint and wood smoke from the fire on the hearth. The walls have been scrubbed and painted and the woodwork and tile on the walls and floor have been fixed or replaced where needed. The furniture I took to Crickhollow with me has been returned undamaged to their original places, including, to my delight, Bilbo’s favorite arm chair in the parlor.

I rest my hand on the walls as I walk towards the parlor, as if to help me believe it’s real, then I stand in the doorway, silent, as my friends come up behind me.

“It seems as though I’d never left,” I say softly.

“Mr. Cotton will be bringing your things up later,” Sam says. “Do you like it?”

I turn to look at him, smiling. “It’s the best present I’ve ever gotten,” I say.

Sam smiles as Merry and Pippin envelop us in a hug. “I’m glad you like it, dearest. That’s why the three of us have been so busy lately, doing this on top of our other duties,” he explains.

I feel a tear of relief fall down my nose and Sam looks instantly concerned.

“Are you all right?” he demands.

I nod, smiling. “Thank you, Sam,” I whisper.

“Go look at the rest, Fro!” Pippin says, bouncing excitedly. He grabs my wrist and pulls me towards the bedrooms.

I look through the doorway of my bedroom, fixed up and re-done exactly as it was before I left. I stand there a moment, then flop down on my bed and lie there, taking in the new smells of my home. For the first time since I’ve returned to the Shire I feel as though I am finally home.

A moment later I sit up and see Merry and Sam standing in the doorway, and Pippin sitting on the floor at my feet. They are all watching me intently, and I give them a big, genuine smile. Pippin grins and Merry and Sam relax a little bit.

“I’m home,” I say softly, looking at them in amazement. “I’m alive and I’m home. In all my wildest dreams I never expected to come back at all.”

“You’re home, safe and sound, Fro,” Merry says.

For a brief second I wonder if I deserve it, but I push the thought from my mind.

Soon we are all sitting around the kitchen table and my dear friends are relating to me how they managed to keep their work secret all this time. I had known there was another conspiracy afoot, but I’d been too preoccupied to take any notice.

By noon there is a knock on the front door – my front door – and I jump up to open it.

“Hullo, Mr. Frodo!” Mr. Cotton says as I let him in. “We’ve brought yer things up. Figured as how you might want ‘em.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cotton,” I say as Jolly and Nibs come through the door, carrying bags full of my things. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble,” I add.

“Not t’all,” he replies as I follow him out to the wagon where Rosie is sitting, holding Wanderer’s crate.

“Morning, Mr. Frodo!” Rosie calls as her father helps her down. She carefully sets the crate in my arms. “He’s a little frightened, Mr. Frodo. I think ‘cause he was left here alone, that he’s afraid to come back.”

I nod. “I don’t doubt it,” I respond, allowing her to walk ahead of me down the pathway and follow with my cat.

When I enter Bag End, Wanderer is crouched near the back of the crate, lying against me, shivering in fear. I bring him into my room and pull him out of his crate as Sam and Farmer Cotton come in carrying my writing trunk.

His claws dig into my shirt and waistcoat, and barely pierce my skin. It hurts a little and I grimace.

“What’s the matter, Frodo?” Sam questions.

“Wanderer’s a little scared,” I reply, gently pulling him away from my clothes. He meows, a small, strangled sound and I lay down on my bed, setting him carefully on my chest, hoping he’ll calm down. His ears twitch and I stroke his head.

“Do you want my help?” Sam asks, sitting beside me on the bed.

I shake my head as he fixes my curls. “No. I’ll just keep him with me until he calms down. I think he’s afraid of being left here alone.”

Sam nods. “I’m going to get these things put away, then,” he says, heading over to my boxes of clothing and books.

I rest my head on the pillow and close my eyes.

* * *

Sam and I are sitting in the parlor now, Wanderer calmed down a little and lying in Sam’s arms. Merry is beside me on the couch, asleep with his head on my lap, and Pippin is curled up on the floor at our feet on top of a pile of pillows that mysteriously disappeared off the couch. We are all tired after celebrating tonight. Pippin’s arms tighten around the cheese platter that he emptied almost single-handedly.

I glance over at Sam, sitting in an armchair, and smile a little. *“When are you going move in and join me, Sam?” I ask.

He blushes awkwardly and looks down at his feet.

* “There’s no need to come yet, if you don’t want to,” I say, hoping he isn’t thinking of turning down my offer. * “But you know the Gaffer is close at hand, and he will be very well looked after by Widow Rumble.”

* “It’s not that, Mr. Frodo,” Sam says, calling me by my old title out of habit. His face is getting red.

* “Well, what is it?” I ask, glancing at him quizzically, though I think I know the answer to my question.

* “It’s Rosie, Rosie Cotton,” he blurts out.

I smile, knowingly. I had been wondering when he’d bring this up.