Chapter Five

Bilbo looked at his beloved heartson with a mix of emotions. Each fought for dominance in a stormy sea. His heart was, of course, full of love for his lad, as it always had been. If he was completely honest with himself, he admitted he was also a little perplexed by how tender Frodo was with Boromir, who when they parted was his enemy. That the man still was to the ancient hobbit, who had that moment frozen in time, or if not an outright adversary, at least a potentially dangerous threat. But he knew he shouldn’t wonder why Frodo could be so gentle and was indeed incredibly proud of his lad for that same loving treatment. His boy had always been devoted to those he gave his heart to. That had come in some real way to include Smeagol, and Bilbo thought, if Frodo could love such a wretched creature, then certainly he could also love Boromir. But still there was that horrible memory, built up in his imagination from what he had heard from his beloved one, of the man’s Ring-induced madness and putting Frodo at such risk. He remembered also his own Ring-lust as Frodo had seen it in Rivendell and how frightening that had been. Still his lad had such a loving and forgiving heart. Perhaps it would be all right. Or perhaps not.

“It’s time for bed, my lad,” Bilbo said in hopes of drawing him away to a place of safety.

“I’m going to stay here, Uncle. He shouldn’t be left alone and I want to be near if he needs me.”

Bilbo’s face contorted with all the emotions he was wrestling with. He wanted to weep and hold his heartson tight and tell him he much he loved him and how proud he was of him. He also wanted to protect him from a perceived peril. Was it a true one? He didn’t want to take the chance.

Frodo watched his beloved uncle struggle and took him into his arms. “He won’t hurt me, Uncle. Especially not now, if that potion is the same Elrond gave me when I arrived with my wound at Rivendell. He won’t wake for days if that is so. But when he does, I know that he will not harm me even then.”

Bilbo held Frodo with a fierce strength that belied his age. Tears did come then from many emotions. The younger Baggins held on until the elder was spent, then kissed his forehead and smiled. “Good-night, Uncle. I will see you tomorrow for breakfast if you come here.”

“Are you certain you want to stay here all night, Frodo, my lad?”

“Quite certain.” Frodo gave his uncle one last squeeze before letting him go. “It will be all right, Uncle.” Seeing that Bilbo was still uncertain himself, Frodo added. “You can stay as well if you like. I’m sure a sleeping mat could be brought in.”

Bilbo considered this. As much as his weary limbs longed for the feather bed of his bedroom, he knew he would find no rest there. He was not anxious to spend the night with the man who had threatened his lad, but he was more afraid of leaving Frodo alone with him, whether that man was unconscious or not. He had spent more nights than he could count fearing for his boy’s safety on the Quest. His imagination had conjured all sorts of terrible scenarios, though none so horrible as what had actually happened. Now he had a chance to protect his lad and he was going to do it.

“A mat would be a lot more comfortable than sleeping on the floor,” Bilbo said. “Shouldn’t we ask for two, though?”

Frodo smiled and sat back down by Boromir’s side. “This will do well enough for me.”

The last thing Bilbo was aware of after Frodo tucking him in was his lad returning to his chair by Boromir. The ancient hobbit stared for a long time before he could not keep his eyes propped open anymore. The peace and love and light from his lad’s face followed him into his dreams.