My birthday mathom for 2023.  Enjoy!

Until Daddy’s Home

An infant wailed, demanding attention.  Frodo awoke—not that he’d been sleeping deeply, of course.  He smiled to hear Elanor’s cry.  How he’d looked forward to filling this beloved hole with his own children, although that blessed event would not happen, not now.  No, it was Sam and Rosie’s offspring who would fill Bag End, not his own, unfortunately.  Such was part of the price he’d paid for choosing to become the Ringbearer. 

He thought to rise to take the child to distract her so that her dear mother could rest.  It had been a long day yesterday, after all.  The Gaffer’s rheumatics had been bothering the old Hobbit something awful, and Rosie had been up and down the Hill several times over the course of the day.  Sam was off in the Eastfarthing seeing to fields and woodlots that Lotho’s Big Men had fired during the Time of Troubles, and wasn’t due to arrive home until sometime tomorrow. 

Frodo himself was having difficulty walking far, and wasn’t able to help down in Number Three.  He’d been able to fix some of the chicken soup his Aunt Esmeralda had prepared for those who were ailing, and had seen to it that fresh bread had been prepared for both Bag End and for Sam’s childhood home.  That much he could do, at least, to relieve Rosie’s responsibilities. But he realized that he could do nothing for Elanor’s needs right now.  Whether or not Rosie wished to rise, she alone could feed her infant daughter at this time.  Maybe a cup of tea would help the exhausted mother?

 *

Rosie sighed as the bairn’s cries brought her to a reluctant consciousness.  “All right, all right!” she murmured as she sat up in bed and wiped her hair out of her eyes.  “Mummy’s coming, dearling.”

She stumbled to the cradle and lifted the baby, noting with relief that Elanor was dry—for the moment, at least.  She returned to bed with Elanor in her arms, glad she could lie down to nurse the child, and that Frodo had laid a clean pad nearby to put under Elanor whilst she suckled.  “Here now,” she cooed.  “This is better, is it not?”  At least she could drowse as the baby nursed.  And drowse she did!

“And would you like a cup of tea, Rosie?”

Oh, bless her husband for his thoughtfulness, although she hoped not to stay awake once Elanor was sated.  “Set it on the table, please, Sam,” she managed through a yawn.  “I’ll look to drink it when she’s done.”  She heard the clink of the cup and saucer as they were laid on the narrow table set by her pillow, glad that he was aware of her possible desires.  She had the best of husbands, she did!

           *

            Frodo shook his head as he returned to his own room.  Rosie had mistaken him for Sam!  He wondered what his friend would think of that.  He was chuckling softly as he returned to his room and chose to sit in one of the chairs near his fireplace rather than returning to bed.  He turned the chair softly so as to look out the window at the waning moon as it drew closer to the western horizon.  How often he found himself looking to the west anymore.  He fell into a reverie from which he roused as once more Elanor began to cry.  Ah, but now she needed to be changed.  He rose and went to Rosie’s aid—this, at least, he could deal with and allow her to fall back into a deeper and more restful sleep.

            “I’ll be glad to take the bairn now,” he said as he crossed the threshold into the master bedroom once more.  “I can change her easily enough.”

            “Oh, but thanks, m’love,” she said through a yawn.  “It would be—so much appreciated.” 

            As he reached down to take the babe she nestled more deeply into her pillow.  “I shall keep her busy until she’s ready to sleep again,” he promised, and turned to head back to the bathing room.  “You need more than a mere changing, dear one,” he murmured.  “Oh, but we will see you cleaned up properly, shall we?”

            He ran a shallow bath and saw her cleaned and wrapped with a soft towel sent by his cousin Daisy Boffin from across Hobbiton.  A small pile of nappies were kept here for the little lass, and soon she was properly diapered and provided with a short gown, then wrapped with a blanket that his own mother had made for him when he was her age.  “This should keep you warm enough, or so I would expect, my Elanorellë,” he told her as he finally quitted the bathing room for the kitchen.  “I shall get some of my own tea, and what to do think about going out to see what your father has wrought in the gardens?  Just until your daddy’s home, you know.”

 *

            Sam saw his master sitting in the chair Sam had had made as a gift for his birthday in April, speaking down into Elanor’s small ear.  It was just after dawn, and the two of them were warmly wrapped, Frodo in his Lórien cloak and the bairn in a soft green blanket decorated with a dragonfly as they watched the land brighten about them.  Both of them looked up brightly at him as Sam came down the garden path. 

            “See, dearling, how your daddy’s home at last to take you into his own arms?  I told you he would soon be here, did I not?”  Frodo leaned down to kiss the child on her head before lifting her for her father to take.

            Sam was pleased to see his daughter’s eyes brighten as he reached for her.  “So it is, then.  Here I am, my sweetling.  And what are you doin’ up at dawn?”

            “We’ve been looking at the flowers that have opened in the last day, Sam.  How glad they are that you now care for them once more.  And she has been delighted to touch each and every one we’ve examined.  She is indeed the gardener’s daughter, you realize.”  Frodo smiled indulgently.  “She’s been happy enough to be with me and allow your beloved to sleep in for a change.  Your father has been in a good deal of discomfort for the last day, and Rosie must have been down there at least four times yesterday, helping Marigold make him feel more comfortable.  He seemed much better last evening, or so I understand, but she was simply exhausted when she returned home that last time.  This one, on the other hand, had so much sleep during the day that she has been wanting to be up and doing since her mother last fed her.”

            Sam settled on the garden bench with his daughter on his lap.  “So, you wanted to be a-playin’ while your mummy sleeps, eh?  Why am I not surprised, my little missy?”

            Frodo reached out to stroke Elanor’s hair.  “Her mother kept calling me Sam, thanking me for a mug of tea and all.  She was so tired!”

            Sam laughed.  “Poor lass!  But thank you for bein’ there for her, Frodo.  I know no one would care for her as well as you when I must be gone.  Bless you for it—you and my Rosie both.”  He nuzzled his daughter’s head.   “Well, you’ve had the best of care, haven’t you, my lass—you and your mummy both?  But your daddy’s home again, and I’ll be here for some time afore I’ll need to be off again, don’t you know.  And your Uncle Frodo’ll be here for you when I must away once more, always watchin’ o’er you when I must away—just you wait and see!”

            He didn’t notice that Frodo’s smile faded and his expression grew more solemn at that.  After all, how much longer would he be able to linger here with the brother of his heart and his family?