"One more! One more story! Pleeeaaassse?" Frodo begged, bouncing on the big bed. He wasn't ready to fall asleep ... not just yet anyway.

Unable to resist his little cousin's big blue (and now pleading) eyes, Saradoc gave in rather easily. "All right, Frodo. One more story--but only one, mind you--and then it's time for sleep."

"It's past time for sleep," Esmeralda whispered with a hint of worry in her tone. What if the lad overslept in the morning and then was cranky for the rest of the day ... and all because she and Sara had allowed the child to stay up much later past his bedtime than was normal? Auntie Primula and Uncle Drogo would never let them mind Frodo ever again!

“Relax my love. One more story won’t do any harm.” Sara randomly flipped through the many illustrated pages of the large storybook with its seemingly endless supply of tales. "How about The Hobbit & the Magic Oven?" he suggested. It didn't look to be too short so that Frodo would want yet another tale, but on the other hand it didn't look to be overly long either.

Frodo's little face lit up and he clapped his hands together in glee. "Oh yes! That's one of my favorites!" he shouted happily.

"Frodo, remember to use your indoor voice, please," Esme reminded the exuberant lad gently for the umpteenth time that evening. She wondered again how Aunt Primmie did it--Frodo was such a spirited hobbit child full of never-ending energy it seemed. They had played three rounds of miniature golf with him and it was only due to the setting of the Sun that Frodo was agreeable to coming back indoors, where they had played with an old wooden game that had used to be Saradoc and Merimac’s as children. The bright lad also contained an abundance of insatiable curiosity that was surprising for one of Baggins decent, although Frodo had some Took in him as well. Why, after only a few hours with the little one, Esme felt ready to go to bed herself!

Frodo clapped his hands over his mouth and blushed. "Oops. I'm sorry, Auntie," he apologized.

Esme let the child cuddle next to her as Frodo settled in to hear another story about a kind old hobbitess who one day discovered that her cast-iron oven was magical, producing all sorts of delicious treats on a whim for its mistress. Sara was sitting atop the bed on the opposite side with the large book propped on the child's raised knees, so that Frodo might be able to see the colorful pictures easily enough ... and help to turn the pages when it was time.

The couple had been quite surprised during the first story when they realized that Frodo had been following along with the words being read aloud, for he'd corrected Saradoc on accidentally skipping a sentence. As if to prove to himself that Frodo was really able to read the higher level of text in the book and that the tale was not merely memorized, Sara had started to make more purposeful mistakes while reading aloud to the youngster. Frodo had been able to correct nearly every one. They'd known that Frodo could read, but they had been caught unawares as to how advanced the 11½ -year old's skills really were. It appeared to them that Frodo could probably read at the level of a child in their mid-teen’s with great ease.

As Esme listened to her husband's best storytelling voice and herself became wrapped in the tale, she eventually felt Frodo's head grow heavier and heavier until it sank against her bosom and then jerked upright again. Her instinct to mother overpowered her and she tentatively brushed her fingers through his soft curls, damp from the lad's bubble bath earlier that evening. Esme watched mesmerized as the dark curls entwined themselves around her petite hands until they sprang loose. Oh, how her heart ached for a child of her own!

Somehow the now sleepy-eyed child had managed to stay awake during the entire story. When Sara closed the cover of the storybook and set it aside on the nightstand, Frodo allowed himself to be tucked into the great bed with Beorn the bear at his side. He snuggled deep into the feather mattress and pillow as the crisp linen sheet and a mid-weight blanket were tucked over him. He gave his uncle and aunt each a goodnight kiss before turning to the side and closing his eyes. Frodo was quickly lulled into a very sound sleep by the soothing sounds of the river outside the open window as the water flowed downstream and lapped against the banks.

A few hours later and just before they were ready to settle into bed themselves, Saradoc and Esmeralda poked their heads into their guestroom, making sure its pint-sized occupant was sleeping soundly. Sara closed the round door to the bedroom and wordlessly followed his wife to their own bed. He wondered when, if ever, they would be blessed with a child of their own. He hoped to one day have a lad that was as sweet-natured and a joy as Frodo was.

It was then that Saradoc Brandybuck remembered Aunt Primmie’s sound advice (learned from her sister-in-law, Dora Baggins) ... good things come to those who wait.

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