QUARANTINED

Chapter 2 --- Friends, New and Old

S.R. 1391, April 26

Frodo opened his eyes to sunlight flooding through his bedroom window. It was late; later than usual. What... Suddenly he remembered the excitement of the night before, and he leaped out of bed and pulled on some everyday clothes. Hurriedly washing his face and hands, he ran into the kitchen and looked eagerly about, disappointed to see only Bilbo, calmly ladling some soup into a mug.

"Did you wash behind your ears, my lad?"

"Yes," Frodo sighed. Bilbo asked him the same question every morning.

Bilbo turned and smiled at Frodo as the lad scurried about the kitchen, pulling out bread and jam and fruit. Bilbo set down in front of him a plate of sausages and eggs he had kept warm in a pan, and Frodo started to tear into the food.

"You slept clear through second breakfast, you must be starving! I'm sorry we woke you last night, Frodo. You usually sleep through everything."

"But then I would have missed seeing Gandalf, Bilbo! Where is he?"

"He's out in the field, seeing to the horses. I think they'll be all right there for a few days if we keep an eye on them."

"Oh," said Frodo wistfully, wolfing down the last of the sausage, "I would so love to see them. They must be enormously huge horses!"

"You'll see them soon enough," said Bilbo. He started some tea brewing, then added a loaf of soft bread to the tray he was preparing.

Bilbo's attention was drawn to the garden, where the Gaffer and his youngest son, Samwise, were spading the soft ground.

"I need to speak with Master Hamfast," said Bilbo, lifting the tray. "But first---"

"Let me take it, Bilbo," pleaded Frodo. "Please?"

Bilbo opened his mouth to protest, to forbid Frodo from going anywhere near Aragorn's room, but he knew that Gandalf was right. He had lain awake most of the night thinking about this very thing. If Frodo was going to fall ill, increased exposure to Aragorn would make no difference. It was too late.

"All right," he said, managing a small smile. "I suppose it's time you met our guest. Don't be surprised if he needs to be coaxed into eating, though. After being so ill, the appetite returns only slowly."

Eyes shining, Frodo grasped the tray and carried it carefully down the hallway. When he reached the end, he peeked into the spare "Big Folks" room which he assumed Gandalf would be using. The door was open, and there was an unopened, bulky pack sitting on one of the chairs. The bed seemed not to have been slept in. Did wizards even sleep? Frodo added this question to the dozens already on his mental list. He hoped not to make the wizard angry with too many questions, but then again, an angry wizard might be an exciting thing... After all, he hadn't seen Gandalf do anything magical yet.

Finally he took a deep breath and pushed open a partly-closed door with his foot, instantly perceiving why Bilbo had always kept so many blankets and quilts stuffed into every conceivable closet and chest. There in the bed was the Man Frodo had seen so briefly last night. At least half a dozen blankets had been arranged over him, perhaps more. Several hobbit-sized blankets appeared necessary to even cover him in one layer. He was so tall... Even lying down, the Big Folk were so incredibly tall.

Frodo walked quietly into the room and put the tray down on the table, then took a good look at the sleeping Man, lying propped up on several pillows. Even under the scruffy stubbles of hair on his face, Frodo could see that Aragorn looked ill, very pale and drawn. His hair certainly needed a good wash, but someone (Frodo assumed it had been Bilbo) had seen to it that his face had been cleaned. His ears were different than a hobbit's, and all that facial scruff... but otherwise, fairly normal-looking. From what he could see, the Man was wearing a loose-fitting, light brown shirt, badly in need of ironing. Frodo supposed it had been crammed into the pack that lay next to the table.

Frodo's eyes wandered around the room, and his heart beat faster at the sight of all the weapons. So many of them! There was a scabbard with an elaborate sword hilt protruding, several long, vicious-looking knives lying about, and an unstrung bow, so long that it couldn't stand upright in the room, tilted against the wall. A quiver about half full of long, deadly arrows stood next to it. Frodo felt a tremor go through him at the thought of carrying --- of needing --- so many weapons.

Frodo then caught sight of the Man's cloak, lying across one of the chairs. Partly hidden near the top was fastened a beautiful silver pin shaped into a star larger even than Frodo's hand. The cloak, pack, boots, everything was worn and dirty, but the pin seemed cared for, well-polished and important. It seemed...

Frodo jumped in surprise as he realized that two grey eyes were watching him.

"I didn't touch anything, sir," he gasped.

"I noticed that," said the Man. He looked around the room. Everything was so small, so cramped, save the bed he was in and the chair next to it.

Frodo tried to slow his racing heart. "F. . Frodo Baggins, at your service, sir."

Aragorn gaped at the boy. Had he actually bowed to him?

"Thank you, Frodo. I'm afraid my manners aren't equal to yours; the guest should introduce himself first! My name is Aragorn."

The Man's voice was soft and sounded educated to Frodo's ears, and his smile was very nice. Besides, Gandalf wouldn't bring someone dangerous to Bag End, would he? Frodo's fright and caution disappeared as if they had never been.

"I only saw you for an instant last night, Aragorn, but I think you look a little better today."

"I suppose I do! Last night is a bit vague, but I clearly remember your father nearly drowning me in soap and water."

Frodo smiled. "Bilbo is rather insistent, isn't he? But he's not my father; my parents died a long time ago."

Aragorn noticed that the boy's eyes were drawn back to the silver star.

"That belonged to my father," Aragorn said.

"Oh," Frodo said. "Did he... did he die?"

"Yes," Aragorn said simply. He was startled to see the lad's large blue eyes fill with tears.

"I'm so sorry, Aragorn," whispered Frodo. "How sad for you. I miss my parents so very much. You must miss your father a lot too."

Before Aragorn could respond to this compassionate statement, Frodo suddenly remembered that this Man was ill, and Bilbo said that he might need to be coaxed to eat. He picked up the tray, and set it down in front of Aragorn.

"Can you sit up a bit more? Bilbo said you've hardly eaten in days, and his soup really is wonderful. This one is full of fresh vegetables from our garden that he diced up for you."

Aragorn lifted the spoon, but his hand was shaking too much to use it. Lifting the mug with both hands, he was dismayed to find that he was too weak to even get it to his mouth. Before he knew what was happening, Frodo had climbed up on the bed and knelt down next to him. He pressed his small hands around Aragorn's, and helped him raise the mug to his lips. Aragorn slowly swallowed the thick, warm soup, and then took bites of the soft loaf of bread that Frodo broke into pieces for him.

"Thank you, little one." He stole glances at the lad sitting just inches away, the first halfling he had ever seen this close. Were they all so trusting and friendly as this? Should they be?

"I'm not, actually."

Aragorn was startled out of his reverie. "Not what?"

"Little. I'm almost as tall as Bilbo now, and taller than many hobbits my age. I've been a tweenager for over a year, you know."

"Tweenager?"

There was a voice from the doorway. "Don't get too close, Frodo. That wild fellow might make a meal of you, like the trolls Bilbo has told you about!"

"Don't be silly, Gandalf," Frodo sighed in exasperation. "He can barely manage the soup!" He turned and grinned at the wizard, who came over to the bed.

"Frodo, would you leave us alone for awhile? You can visit with Aragorn later."

"But he has to---" Frodo's words were cut off as the wizard picked him up off the bed and set him down on the floor.

"All right. But make sure he eats all of that, Gandalf," said Frodo as he paused in the doorway. "He feels awfully warm, and---"

"You can count on me, Frodo," said the wizard with a chuckle. He closed the door and turned back to Aragorn, who was looking rather dazed at the thought of someone using the word "silly" to describe one of the Istari. To his face.

Gandalf sat down in the chair and picked up the half-empty mug of soup, helping Aragorn to continue eating.

"You're to eat all of this," said the wizard sternly. "I have my orders."

Aragorn smiled in between swallows. "That child seems fearless," he said. "How many years have you known each other?"

"We just met last night." Gandalf felt his friend's brow. "You are a bit warm, yet, but most definitely on the mend. You have but to regain your strength." He saw that Aragorn suddenly seemed weary.

"Here now, finish this, and then a bit more sleep."

Aragorn finished the soup without protest, and Gandalf helped him to lie back down.

"I'm so tired," Aragorn said, impatient with the fact that he was growing drowsy again. "I've never felt so weak or helpless. What luck that we had planned to meet, and that you found me when you did."

"Luck, was it?" mused Gandalf. "I wonder. But you are a strong one; I have long suspected that your bloodline might be a source of strength when you most need it. I have seen this illness before, Aragorn, and for you to have gone through three days of the malaise alone... without food or fire... some would not have survived it." He sighed. "If Frodo should fall ill, it is my hope that it will be a mild case, as you are so near the end of it."

Aragorn shook his head. "I cannot bear to think of that sweet child falling ill because of me. He treats me as an old friend, and we have just met." His eyes grew haunted. "I cannot think of the last time I was so easily trusted and welcomed."

"Try to sleep," said Gandalf softly. "I'll see that the little one does not disturb you."

"I've been informed that he's not," Aragorn murmured with a smile, his limbs and eyelids growing heavy.

"Not what?"

"Little."

*~*~*~*~

For the rest of the day, every time Frodo peeked into Aragorn's room the Man was either asleep or talking quietly with Gandalf. Bilbo took a nap in the late afternoon, and Frodo spent the day reading, doing a few cleaning chores, and wheedling stories out of the wizard. They roused Aragorn for dinner, and Frodo was dismayed to see that he still seemed too weak to eat much. They did get more of the nourishing soup down him, a little cooked chicken, and a piece of the cake Frodo had helped Bilbo bake just yesterday, rich with honey and plump raisins.

After dinner, Gandalf, Bilbo, and Frodo sat in the parlor in front of a warm fire in the hearth. Gandalf listened as Bilbo taught Frodo the Elvish for 'star', 'sun', and 'moon', and Frodo practiced those words, as well as others he had already learned. When he was satisfied with Frodo's pronunciation, Bilbo let the drowsy lad curl up next to him in the big, overstuffed chair, and they both contentedly watched the fire crackle gently.

Gandalf blew a green smoke ring and, to Frodo's delight, urged it to circle the room. "Bilbo, when did you learn Elvish?"

"Whenever I'm off wandering and I spot an Elf, I beg for a few more phrases, Gandalf. They've been most generous and patient, but I badger them so mercilessly I'm truly surprised they haven't taken to avoiding the Shire entirely by now!" Bilbo absent-mindedly stroked Frodo's wayward curls. "I've fallen in love with that beautiful language, and it's starting to flow more easily for me at last. I'm working on some translations of poetry, and perhaps in a few years I'll have learned enough to write in it myself. But for the present..." He chuckled. "I stay a few lessons ahead of Frodo, and he thinks I know everything."

"You do know everything, Bilbo," murmured the sleepy tween.

"Off to bed with you now," said Bilbo.

"G'night." Yawning, Frodo stumbled off down the hallway to his room.

"That is a striking-looking child," said Gandalf.

"He is indeed," agreed Bilbo. "You should have seen the Gamgee girls' eyes nearly pop out of their heads when they first saw him." His expression grew wistful. "I lived alone most of my life, Gandalf. I never thought I could bear to have someone underfoot every moment. But Frodo is..." He sighed. "Frodo is very special. I love him dearly."

"And he loves you just as dearly."

Bilbo smiled, gazing into the glowing hearth. "At first I thought only of my need for an heir, and Frodo's need to be rescued from that... from Brandy Hall. But now I believe we were destined to find each other. It's been less than two years, and already I cannot imagine life without him."

The wizard blew another smoke ring, this one purple with wisps of yellow ribbons. "He seems older than his years and younger at the same time, if that makes any sense."

"That is the very essence of a tweenager," said Bilbo. "Caught halfway between childhood and adulthood; or in Frodo's case, much closer to childhood. One moment you think you're speaking with a mature adult, and the next moment he's like a bewildered, frightened child full of fears and insecurities. I think he lost a little ground after his parents died. Since he's been with me, I've restricted my wanderings to a few days at the most while he stays at the Gamgees'. It took him many months before he trusted that I would always return and not leave him alone." He sighed. "So much upheaval in a young life."

"Ah, but he seems very happy and peaceful here with you, Bilbo. You're giving him back the stability he lost." Gandalf looked at his friend carefully. "And what can be more stable and comforting than living with someone who never looks any older?" The wizard leaned forward in his chair. "Remarkable, Bilbo, it's as if you've stopped time. Really quite amazing."

Bilbo grinned and blew a smoke ring of his own. "Hardly that! I feel the years starting to thin me out a bit. But I will simply enjoy every day that I have, as a wise hobbit should!" He looked thoughtful. "I've been very selfish; I do enjoy wandering about by myself, but I suspect it's time I took Frodo with me to all the parts of the Shire he's never seen, and perhaps a wider world after that. Once there is no longer a danger of..." He suddenly looked up at the wizard. "He's been so healthy; I know an illness would be very frightening for him."

"We should know by tomorrow; hopefully he will remain healthy and well," said Gandalf. "Aragorn should be able to travel in a few days, but..." The wizard leaned forward in his chair. "We will stay as long as we are needed, Bilbo. Aragorn and I will both do everything we can."

** TBC **