QUARANTINED

Chapter 13 --- A Letter From Bree

As far as Frodo was concerned, his second summer in Hobbiton was even better than his first.  Full health and strength were slow in returning, but return they eventually did, thanks to Bilbo making sure he had good food, adequate rest, and sunshine (which they jokingly referred to as “Sam’s prescription”).  But it wasn’t just a return to health that made Frodo so happy --- it was Sam.  The two lads, one a child and one a tween, became nearly inseparable as the summer wore on.

Observing them closely, Bilbo suspected that, at the heart of their friendship, each boy felt  that the other needed him --- and beyond that, each thought he had discovered something in the other that no one else saw.

It was obvious to everyone that Sam, out of all the Gamgees, had inherited his father’s love of the earth, of flowers and trees and all plants.  Without putting it into words, or even thought, the youngster sensed that Mr. Frodo was a bit fragile, even after he had recovered fully from his illness --- a gentle, sensitive nature that needed careful handling, just as an uprooted plant needed more care than the others in order to once again take root and grow strong.  Best of all, observed Bilbo, young Samwise combined practical wisdom --- his ‘plain hobbit sense’ --- with a lightness of spirit that Frodo, by Sam’s unconscious example, was rediscovering within himself.

Meanwhile, Frodo had quickly realized that Sam was an exceptionally bright child, with an amazing memory --- whatever tale or song the youngster heard, he seemed never to forget.  At Frodo’s request, Bilbo had won permission from Sam’s parents to begin teaching him to read, with the stipulation that such a frivolous thing wait until late autumn when the planting and harvesting would be over.  When Sam found out that such a magical event was in store for him, he grew even more devoted to his wonderful new friend.

Both blossomed in new ways that summer, and a friendship began which would know no end.  And both waited, with great excitement, for September.

*~*~*~*~*

S.R. 1391, September 6

After answering a knock at the front door, Bilbo returned to the parlor where Frodo was working diligently on his birthday present for Aragorn.  He sat down in the big, overstuffed chair and pulled an envelope out of his pocket.

“Look at this, Frodo-lad,” Bilbo said casually.  “A letter came for us all the way from Bree.”

Frodo gasped.  “A letter for both of us?  Is it from Estel?”  He hopped up on the chair next to Bilbo.

“It’s certainly addressed to both of us,” Bilbo smiled, showing Frodo the envelope.

Bilbo and Frodo Baggins

Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire

“But are you sure we should open this tonight, Frodo?”  Bilbo yawned and made as if to put the envelope back in his pocket.  “It’s nearly bedtime, you know.  Maybe we can read it at breakfast, or in a few more days---”

“Bilbo!” Frodo cried out, stunned.  “Read it at once!”

“I suppose we should.”  Bilbo chuckled and handed the envelope to the outraged tween.  “Here, you open it and we’ll both read it.”

“Oh, Bilbo,” Frodo sighed.  “Sometimes I don’t know when you’re serious and when you’re not.  I’ll just have to live with you for years and years until I can tell the difference!”  He smiled at his uncle, then, with great anticipation, he carefully broke the seal and unfolded the letter.  “It is from Estel!”

September 1 The Prancing Pony, Bree

Dear Bilbo and Frodo,

I trust you are both well.  Between Bilbo’s cooking and the warmth and love you both share, I have no doubt that Frodo’s recovery was rapid and complete, and that you have both enjoyed a peaceful summer. I have traveled quite a bit since we parted, even stopping for a few days in Rivendell.  Lord Elrond remembers you fondly, Bilbo, and sends his regards.  He was quite interested in the fact that we had met, and asked many questions about you and Frodo.

Much as I would enjoy a few restful days at Bag End, assisting Frodo in the emptying of Bilbo’s larders and pantries, it occurred to me that the two of you might enjoy a short trip.  I will soon be visiting an area north of the Shire with some of my men --- it is an ancient site, long forgotten by almost everyone, I suspect.  That is certainly too far to ask you to travel; therefore, perhaps we might meet at the heavily wooded area north of Hobbiton, between Needlehole and Oatbarton, if I remember it correctly.  There is a beautiful glade and small pond at the edge of the wood that, last time I was there, seemed little-used and wonderfully isolated.  The path is easy to spot from the road, and I have no doubt that Bilbo can find it easily.

I assume you have a birthday celebration of some sort planned, on which I prefer not to intrude; however, a peaceful night under the stars with two of my favorite people would be a treat for me, and perhaps a nice change for you as well.  If you can join me on the afternoon or evening of September 25, we can spend a day or two together. Please send a note to me at the Prancing Pony in Bree to let me know if these plans appeal to the two of you.  (Address your note to ‘Strider’, the name by which I am known here.)  If you are unable to come, I will certainly find a way to visit you in Hobbiton when I can.

Be well, my friends.  Your friendship and kindness are valued beyond measure.

Dress warmly, little one.

Estel

(It is apparently a bit unusual for a Ranger to be sending a letter to the Shire; in fact, if I may judge by the reactions to my inquiries, it may be unprecedented.  However, the worthy innkeeper here assures me that the Shire Post is quite reliable, and that you will receive this letter with no trouble.)

“Yes, it’s as I suspected,” Bilbo said, folding the letter.  “He’s forgotten all about you.”

Frodo burst out laughing, then quieted just a little.  “Oh, Bilbo!  How exciting!  Please say we can go!”

“Of course we can go, ‘little one’.  We---” Anything else he was about to say was squeezed out of him by Frodo’s fierce hug.

“Where is it?  How long would we be gone?”  Frodo could hardly sit still.

Bilbo looked thoughtful.  “About a week, I would say.  Bring me the map of the Shire, and I’ll show it to you.”

Frodo raced to the shelf in Bilbo’s study that held his uncle’s beautifully-drawn maps, grabbed a familiar parchment, and was back in seconds, leaping back up on the chair.

“Show me!”

Bilbo smiled at the boy’s excitement, and grasped Frodo’s right forefinger, tracing the route from Hobbiton west and then northeast.

“It’s a two-day trip, if we borrow a pony and cart.  We can leave on the 24th and easily arrive at Bindbale Wood by the evening of the 25th.”

“You’ve been there.”  It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” said Bilbo.

“You’ve been everywhere, Bilbo.  I want to go everywhere, too.”

Frodo looked up, his eyes shining, but Bilbo was unprepared for what was coming next.

“We have to take Sam.”

“What?  Why?”

“Because I told him he could meet Estel.  Oh, Bilbo, he’s been looking forward to seeing him nearly as much as I have!”

“I know that you and Samwise have grown very fond of each other, but he is a child --- and has never been more than a few miles from home.”

“Please?”

“It wouldn’t be my decision, but his parents’.”  Bilbo sighed.  “Frodo, Rangers are not well regarded by most folks.  Sam’s parents might not---”

“Couldn’t we ask?”

“Yes,” Bilbo agreed, “we can ask.  But that’s not the most important matter just now.”

“What is?”

“Whether I will write the note to ‘Strider’,” Bilbo smiled, “or you will.”

Frodo grinned at him.  “He certainly has a lot of names, doesn’t he?”

The next day, while Sam was showing Frodo which plants in the garden would bloom again in the spring, and which would not, Bilbo paid a visit to No. 3 Bagshot Row.  After awhile, he returned and walked over to where the boys were lying on their stomachs and talking, his face unreadable.

“Well?” demanded Frodo, leaping to his feet.

Bilbo smiled and nodded his head.

“What’s goin’ on?” asked a bewildered Sam.

“Oh, Sam!”  Frodo couldn’t stop grinning.  “After our birthdays, Bilbo and I are taking a little trip to see Estel.  And you’re coming with us!”

“Me?”  Sam sighed, shaking his head at such a daft notion.  “My parents’d never let me go, Mr. Frodo.”

“They’ve already given permission,” said Bilbo, “although the thought of camping under the stars seemed to quite astonish your father.  ‘You work hard to put a nice roof over your family’s heads, and then they want to be sleepin’ outside!’ ” Bilbo quoted.

Sam was staring at Bilbo in disbelief.  “You’re not pullin’ my leg, sir, are you?”

Suddenly Frodo’s smile faded, and he sat down again.  “Sam,” he said seriously, “I haven’t even asked you if you want to come with us.  Please don’t say ‘yes’ if you’d rather not.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open in amazement.  “I’ve never been anywhere, Mr. Frodo.  Not go?  With you and Mr. Bilbo?  On a real adventure to meet a Ranger and all?”

“Is that ‘yes’?”

“Yes!”

“Good!”  Frodo leaped up again and hugged Bilbo.  “Oh, Bilbo, thank you.”

“Thank you, sir,” breathed Sam, with a smile that nearly split his face in two.

** TBC **