CAPTURING A STAR

Chapter 2:  Bag End

“You want to get married, and yet you want to live with me in Bag End too?  But my dear Sam, how easy!  Get married as soon as you can, and then move in with Rosie.  There’s room enough in Bag End for as big a family as you could wish for.”  ‘The Grey Havens’, The Return of the King

Although the trip north by horse-driven cart had been a long one, the well-maintained roads and frequent inns, as well as the friendly company along the way of travellers, Rangers, messengers, and merchants, made the journey much less tedious than Gimli had feared.  When he and his fellow Dwarves finally reached Sarn Ford, where the Brandywine River cut through the vast grasslands south of the Shire, it was time for his friends and kin to leave the road and head west, along a little-used path, to their homes and families in the southern spur of the Blue Mountains.  Standing in a circle, the Dwarves bid Gimli farewell with murmured blessings in their own tongue, and Gimli responded in kind -- with a grateful heart for their company and fellowship.  When they left, he stood watching them until the last of their carts rounded a far hillock and disappeared.  Then he looked to the north, smiled, and began the final push towards the Shire.

It was early evening when Gimli approached the border.  It was easy to spot due to a row of flags flying, clusters of guest-houses, several stables, open-air kitchens, and a large group of hobbits on ponies.  He heard a shout, a clear horn-blast rent the air, then the assembled hobbits were galloping towards him across the meadow, shouting greetings and waving feathered hats.  Gimli noticed that they rode quite expertly – a skill he had given up learning (without regret) years earlier.

The horn sounded again, and the mounted hobbits brought their ponies to a crisp halt in an orderly line.  Two of the riders, significantly larger than their companions, rode forward to within yards of his cart.

“Halt, and state your business!” one of them shouted sternly.

“My business?” Gimli bellowed.  “Peregrin Took, if you do not at once escort me to the nearest barrel of ale, of a fine vintage, mind you, and a meal worthy of a Dwarf who’s ridden a long distance to gaze upon the impudent faces of dear friends, I will turn this cart around this instant!”

“Rude as always,” said the other hobbit casually.  An intricately-wrought horn hung on a cord about his neck.  “Terrible example for Sam’s children, don’t you think?”

“We’ll just have to feed him,” Pippin responded.  “Works wonders with the Rangers.” 

The well-remembered Tookland accent was sweet in his ears, and all at once Gimli began to chuckle. Pippin grinned at him.  “We’re not letting you continue on to Hobbiton until you’ve spent a few days with us at the Great Smials, Master Dwarf.  Frodo and Sam will have you all to themselves at Bag End for weeks and weeks, and it’s just not fair, is it, Merry?”

“Not fair at all,” Merry said, his eyes suddenly glinting with tears.  “Oh Gimli, how we’ve missed you!”

Gimli clambered down from the cart as Pippin and Merry rushed to embrace him, and for many minutes there was nothing but laughter and tears and three old friends all speaking at once.

“You wooly-footed truants!” Gimli cried out at last, wiping his eyes with his beard.  Several of the mounted hobbits gasped, never having heard the Thain and the Master addressed in such a fashion.  “Neither of you has changed a bit... save perhaps for a bit more padding.”  Gimli patted Merry’s and Pippin’s ample middles.

“Diamond’s cooking,” Pippin said happily.

“And Estella’s,” Merry said smugly.  He called several hobbits over, and gave them instructions for tending to Gimli’s horse and where to bring the cart.  “Come, Gimli, your supper awaits!  I promise that your steed will be fed and housed as well as you.  I’m sure he has much to tell our Shire ponies of your adventures on the road.”

Gimli turned to pat Bellas and speak words of praise to him, to which the horse responded with a companionable huff into the Dwarf’s ear  “We’ll head up to the Smials tomorrow, after you’ve rested,” Pippin said, “and we’ll send a messenger to Bag End to let Frodo and Sam know you’ve arrived safely.”

“Excellent,” Gimli said in great contentment.  “And now, take me to this feast, my hobbits!  There is much for me to tell you, and an equal amount for you to tell!”

At that, the Thain and the Master proudly escorted Gimli -- Elf- and King’s-friend, Lord of Aglarond -- through the border and into their beloved Shire, laughing and talking the whole way.  Behind them slowly rode a respectful company of hobbits, eyes a-sparkle with all the news they would have to share with their families this night.

*~*~*~*~*

It had been 20 years since Gimli had visited Bag End, and as he drove his cart up The Hill (as the hobbits called it), the well-ordered Row and luxuriant gardens filled him with peace.  Pippin had sent word ahead so that the day of his arrival would be anticipated, but he had not expected that anyone would be outside to greet him.  It was nearly luncheon time, after all, so no doubt Rosie and the children were preparing the noon meal.  His stomach rumbled at the thought.  He wondered how many of Sam’s children still lived at home; he knew that Elanor had married, and several of the older boys were serving apprenticeships elsewhere in the Shire.

As he drove his cart to the familiar green door, he thought he could hear a muffled barking.  Then the round door opened, a small herd of pups emerged, and he heard someone laughing.  Before he could register Frodo Baggins standing in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear, he needed to hastily rein in his horse so that Bellas would not step on any of the enthusiastic little creatures.

“Don’t let them go far, Uncle Frodo!” came a female voice, and a number of hobbit lasses ran outside.  One of them caught up a gold-colored pup in her arms.  “Thorin, you have my ribbon! What did I tell you about taking things that aren’t yours?  Oh, it’s Uncle Gimli!”

Gimli stared at the offending hound in amazement.  “Thorin”, like the others, was just a tiny snip of a thing.  Although a green ribbon did, indeed, dangle from his mouth, he appeared to be totally unrepentant.

Frodo came to the cart, his eyes aglow with amusement.  “Gimli, welcome back to Bag End.”  He motioned to the girls.  “Rose-lass here was a big girl of 11 when you last visited.  Goldilocks, Daisy, and Primrose were very young, and this is Ruby, who hadn’t yet been born.”

“I remember you, Uncle Gimli,” said Goldilocks.

“So do I,” insisted Ruby.

“No you don’t!” said Goldilocks.

“Yes, I--”

“Girls,” Frodo said mildly, at which point both lasses looked contrite.

Primrose was on tiptoe, trying to peek inside the cart which was heaped with baggage and tied parcels.  “Ma, Dad, everyone, Uncle Gimli’s here!” she shouted towards the open door.

“Mind your manners, Prim,” Rose-lass admonished her sister.  “How do we welcome guests?” She gave a small curtsey, as did the others.  “Lunch will be ready soon, Uncle Gimli.”  She reached up to stroke the horse’s nose, then ushered her giggling sisters and the pups back inside.

The Dwarf sighed and climbed down from the cart.

“Frodo Baggins,” he said, “At the border of your land I was met by galloping ponies, and at Bag End I am met by galloping dogs.  There weren’t nearly this many the last time I was here.” 

“You’re right,” Frodo said.  “Sam and Rosie relaxed their restrictions once the children were old enough to take care of them on their own.  Your welcoming committee today was Thorin, Balin, Dwalin, Bofur, and Rowan, five exuberant but quite sweet pups.  Our mama dog , Dora, can usually be found enjoying her leisure in a warm corner of the kitchen, her favorite room.” He cleared his throat.  “I regret to inform you that there is one more pup in residence, and he is a handful.  Frodo-lad named him Glóin.”

“Hmmph.” Gimli could barely hide a smile.  “Impertinent hobbits.”

“Gimli,” Frodo murmured, his eyes moist.  He embraced the Dwarf, and felt strong arms enclose him.  “I’m so glad to see you.”

“I am very glad to see you as well, lad,” Gimli said quietly.  “You’re looking just fine.”  He peered over Frodo’s shoulder to where Sam and Rose Gamgee stood together in the doorway, watching the scene with warm smiles.  “As are you, Samwise.”

Sam walked quickly to Gimli, and he, too, was drawn into the Dwarf’s arms.  When they parted, Gimli’s eyes were as wet as the hobbits’.

“Welcome to our home, Gimli,” Rosie said, her heart warmed by the joyous reunion.

“Mistress Rose,” Gimli said with a bow, “I am honored.  My memory did not deceive me; your beauty rivals that of the Queen.”

“She’s a queen indeed,” Sam said lovingly to his blushing wife.

Gimli looked carefully at his friends, his heart eased by what he saw.  As he had noticed with Merry and Pippin, the years seemed to sit but lightly upon them.  He wondered if the Lady’s gift to this land - the precious earth of Lórien which Sam had distributed and nurtured throughout the Shire – had brought this unlooked-for blessing.  If so, here was magic indeed -- although perhaps of a subtle sort that young Frodo-lad would not recognize.

And there in the doorway, with his brothers Bilbo, Robin, and Tom crowded behind him, stood the hobbit about whom Gimli had been thinking.  Sam’s eldest son was taller than both his parents, with golden-brown hair, and in his arms he held the sixth pup, red-furred and wriggling.  The younger boys came forward to greet Gimli, but Frodo-lad held back a bit.

“Come closer, Frodo-lad,” Gimli said.  “I suppose that handsome creature is my esteemed father’s namesake?”

The boy hesitantly brought the pup to meet him.  “I hope you don’t mind, Uncle Gimli.  We meant no disrespect.”  He gazed at the Dwarf in wonder.  “You remember me!”

“Of course,” Gimli assured him.  “Who could forget the lad who caught the largest fish in Lake Evendim?”

“That’s right!”  Frodo-lad said, laughing in boyish excitement.

“Gimli, come in and get settled,” Rosie said.  She leveled a pointed look at the younger boys. “No one will bother your cart.”

“We’ll make sure your horse is tended to,” Frodo-lad said to Gimli, feeling less shy.  “We don’t see too many in the Shire.  He seems a nice one.”

“He is Bellas, a noble and good steed,” Gimli said.  He helped the boys unfasten the harnesses, then drew Frodo-lad aside for a moment.  “The King and Queen send their respects.  We have much to discuss, you and I.”

“Do we?” the boy asked in surprise.

“Oh yes,” Gimli said with a chuckle.  “We do, indeed.”

** TBC **