QUARANTINED

Chapter 14 --- Adventuring

S.R. 1391, September 24/25

“Be sure to mind your manners, Samwise Gamgee!”

Sam sighed as his mother whispered in his ear.  Nearly every member of his family had pulled him aside to say the same thing to him.  (He suspected that the only thing that had kept his sisters from giving him the same advice had been their mysterious inability to speak coherently in Frodo’s presence.)  Just when Sam had begun to despair that his family didn’t trust him to behave for even a few days, he was grabbed and hugged tightly by everyone waiting to see him off.  It was just worry, he realized, worry and love.

Bilbo noticed Frodo’s wistful look as he watched his young friend in the arms of his large, loving family, and put his arm around the lad’s shoulders.  Bell Gamgee must have seen something as well.  With a smile, she came over to Frodo and gave him a hug, then winked at Bilbo and shot the boy a stern look.

“You mind your manners as well, young sir!”

Frodo beamed at her.  “Yes, ma’am!”

It was a beautiful autumn day, sunny and unusually warm --- so warm, in fact, that Sam’s thick new cloak, his birthday present from Frodo, was tucked away in the cart along with everything else.  The pony-drawn cart that Bilbo had borrowed for the trip was loaded with packs and blankets and pillows.  Bell Gamgee had insisted on contributing so many pies and fresh loaves of bread, in addition to the many baskets of food Bilbo had packed, that there could be no chance of three hobbits (or even six hobbits) going hungry in the week they would be gone.  Even with such a loaded cart, there was still room for two hobbit lads to curl up for a nap in the thick nest of clean, fresh straw on which everything rested.

But naps were the last thing in either lad’s thoughts at the moment.  They were sitting on the wooden seat next to Bilbo, who held the reins loosely and expertly as the pony trotted smoothly down the well-traveled road.  Only an hour west of Hobbiton, Frodo and Sam were still so excited that they hadn’t stopped chattering for a second.  Bilbo knew that Sam probably felt they were traveling to the ends of the earth, or close to it.  Frodo had only one thing on his mind --- Aragorn.

“What if he isn’t there, Bilbo?”

“Rangers are true to their word, Frodo.  Only something quite urgent would keep him away, I suspect.”

“I’ll finally get to see that enormous horse of his.”  Frodo frowned.  “Do horses bite?”

“Ollie’s wonderful friendly, Mr. Frodo,” chimed in Sam.  “You don’t have to worry about him.”

“Ollie?” asked Bilbo.

“That’s what Sam named Estel’s horse,” said Frodo.  “Apparently, he and Sam became great friends.”

“It’s short for ‘Oliphaunt’, Mr. Bilbo,” explained Sam.

“I hope he’s friendly to me,” Frodo murmured.  “Animals don’t seem to like me much.”  He grew silent, remembering Farmer Maggot’s dogs.

“I’ll just tell him you’re my friend,” said Sam matter of factly.  “He’ll like you for sure, then.”

“How do you know that Ollie is Estel’s horse, Sam?” asked Frodo.  “Maybe he belonged to Gandalf.”

“I saw the Man out there in the field one evenin’, talkin’ to Ollie and brushin’ him,” said Sam.  “I couldn’t understand a word he was sayin’ to him, though; it might’ve been horse-language.”

“More likely Elvish,” said Bilbo with a smile.

“Elf-talk to a horse?” Sam’s eyes were wide as saucers.

The day passed pleasantly as the three hobbits traveled west, past the farms and rolling meadows of the Westfarthing, stopping at regular intervals to rest the pony and have a meal by the side of the road.  As the afternoon wore on, the boys took turns holding the reins, napping in the cart, and making up songs and stories to entertain themselves.

Just as the sun was beginning to get low in the sky, and the travelers had pulled on their jackets and cloaks against the quickly-chilling air, they reached the place where they either had to continue on straight, to Little Delving, or turn right, towards Needlehole.  Frodo, who had memorized Bilbo’s map of this area, announced that they needed to turn right.  With a smile, Bilbo took the right-hand road, heading northeast, and soon guided the pony towards a large meadow studded with small trees.

“We’ve permission to camp here tonight,” Bilbo said to the boys as they hopped down from the cart.  “No fire, though.”

“May we have a fire tomorrow night?” asked Frodo.  His vision of camping out with a Ranger definitely included a roaring campfire.

“I don’t see why not,” said Bilbo, “as long as we’re careful.”  He released the traces attaching Ranger to the cart, and tethered the pony to a nearby tree.

While Frodo helped Bilbo set up their campsite and pull down the baskets of food, Sam gave the pony a drink, then spent some time brushing him as high up as he could reach.  Frodo and Bilbo could hear him singing a little song he had made up, full of nonsense words he was pretending were Elvish.  Farmer Cotton had told them that the pony’s name was Bluebell, but Sam had promptly renamed him “Ranger” in honor of their adventure.  The good-natured pony seemed to be taking his new name, his new friends, and the singing, all in stride.

Sam was doing his best not to show it, but he really was a little nervous about being away from home, and sleeping outside for the first time.  He was relieved to see that his blankets and pillow had been set in the middle of the three “beds”.  When the hobbits finished dinner and finally climbed into their warm blankets, Sam felt safe and secure, nestled snugly between Frodo and Bilbo.  But still, it was getting very dark and they were a long, long way from home…

“Are there any goblins or dragons in these parts, Mr. Bilbo?”

Bilbo chuckled and ruffled the youngster’s curls.  “Not a one, Samwise,” he said.  “Besides, I doubt anything dangerous would dare enter the Shire, not with the Rangers protecting the borders.”

“I can’t wait to see Estel,” said Frodo wistfully, looking up at the glittering stars.  “I’ve missed him a lot.”

“I know,” said Bilbo quietly.  “He’s a good Man, Frodo.  I’m glad we got to know him.”

“Will he like me, do you think?” asked Sam.

“He’ll like you fine,” Frodo laughed.  “He’ll like you so much, he’s likely to gobble you right up for dinner!  Rangers do that, you know.”

“Hah!  I’ll kick and fight all the way down his gullet, I will!” crowed Sam.  “Then he’ll spit me out right quick, and come after you, Mr. Frodo!  And then Ollie will come and rescue us, and we’ll both ride off and escape clean away!”

“What about me?” asked Bilbo.  “Are you leaving me there to be eaten?”

“He wouldn’t eat you, Bilbo,” said Frodo reassuringly.  “Gandalf would turn him into a toad!”

“Well, that’s a relief,” laughed Bilbo.  He leaned over and made sure Frodo was warm enough, then he did the same for Sam.

“I like adventures,” whispered Sam.  “They’re fun.”

“I hope you always think so, Sam-lad,” Bilbo whispered back.

Frodo and Sam talked for awhile longer, but soon Bilbo began to hear less talking and more yawning.  Sam turned over and snuggled close against him, and was soon asleep.

“Bilbo?”

“Yes, Frodo?”

“Why do you think a Ranger would want to spend time with us?  Rangers are so…”

Bilbo sat up, being careful not to disturb Sam.  “Go on.”

Frodo looked up at him.  “I mean, he’s so important, and has so much to do.”

“Frodo,” Bilbo said softly, “Why do you want to spend time with him?”

“Because…” Frodo thought about it.  “He’s so nice, and kind, and… I like being around him.”  Frodo’s voice dropped to a whisper, and Bilbo strained to hear him.  “He knows all kinds of interesting things, and… and he really seemed to care about me.  Someone so important…”

“That’s it, exactly,” said Bilbo.

“What is?”

“That’s why he wants to spend time with you, Frodo.  Because you’re nice, and kind, and he likes being around you.  And I think you’re just as important as he is.  Or anyone else.”

“Oh,” said Frodo softly.  “Oh, Bilbo.  So are you.”

“Besides,” Bilbo continued, “It’s not very satisfying to know all kinds of interesting things, if there’s no one to tell them to.”

“Bilbo,” whispered Frodo, “is that how you feel?”

Bilbo leaned over and gave Frodo a hug.  “Not any more,” he murmured.  He and Frodo smiled at each other for a moment, then Bilbo lay down again.

“Bilbo?” Frodo murmured sleepily.

“Yes?”

“Do you think Estel will like his present?”

“I know he’ll love it.”

After that, everything grew quiet except for the soft, even breathing of the two boys, and Bilbo looked up at the stars until he, too, fell fast asleep.

The next morning, they resumed their journey.  Frodo was so impatient to see Aragorn, it seemed to him that they were traveling at a snail’s pace.  Once they crossed the bridged river at Needlehole, however, he knew that they must be getting close.  Finally, in the late afternoon, the large, thickly wooded area known as Bindbale Wood came into view.  Frodo lunged backwards to shake Sam, asleep in the cart, and nearly fell off the seat.

“Sam, we’re almost there!  Wake up!”

Sam lifted his head and looked groggily around.

“Are we comin’ to the enchanted forest, Mr. Frodo?”

“Yes,” breathed Frodo, his eyes shining.  “We surely are.”

The closer they got to the Wood, the larger it seemed, until they could see nothing on their right but trees and more trees.

“There it is,” said Bilbo at last, pointing to a faint dirt track leading from the road into the forest.  He guided the pony onto the path, which soon led deeply into the Wood.  Sam looked around in amazement.  He had never been completely surrounded by trees before, and he wondered what might be hiding behind them.  Everything felt very dark and close.

“Stop, stop!”

Startled, Bilbo pulled Ranger to a stop.  “What is it, Frodo-lad?”

“Look!”

Frodo pointed to where an opening in the forest could be seen far ahead.  They could just make out the edge of the glade Aragorn had mentioned.  The tracks of a rather large horse could be plainly seen on the dirt path, and faint wisps of smoke from a small fire were filtering through the trees up ahead.  Even at this distance, they could make out the delicious smell of roasting meat.

Frodo grinned and hopped down to the ground.  “Come on, Sam, let’s sneak up on him!”  He looked up at Bilbo pleadingly as Sam joined him, looking excited.  “May we?”

Bilbo chuckled and nodded, at which point the two boys ran ahead.

Gandalf had told him that hobbits could move soundlessly if they chose to; however, Aragorn heard so much giggling and shushing and whispering approaching him, he couldn’t keep from smiling to himself.  Frodo must have brought a friend with him.  He lay very still, eyes shut, pretending to be asleep.

Frodo and Sam quieted down at last, hiding behind a tree about a dozen yards from where the Ranger lay on his back, apparently sound asleep, next to a fire over which several large rabbits were slowly roasting.  Frodo was relieved to see that the horse was standing some distance away, munching on the sweet grass.

With Sam trailing behind him, Frodo tiptoed forward until he was within just a few feet of Aragorn, then he suddenly leaped at the Man with a whoop of joy.  Aragorn’s eyes snapped open, and, with lightning speed, he reached out and effortlessly plucked the startled boy out of the air.

Still on his back, Aragorn held the giggling, squirming lad suspended high above him and surveyed his captive with a scowl.  “An unsuspecting hobbit falls into my trap,” he said in a menacing voice.  “And since you’re a bit plumper than I remember,” he continued, “I can make a good meal of you, at last.”

“You’re supposed to be protecting hobbits, not eating them, you silly Ranger,” Frodo laughed, trying to wriggle free.

“Oh, that’s right,” said Aragorn with a broad smile.  “I forgot.”

Frodo looked down at him.  “How am I supposed to hug you from up here?”

Now it was Aragorn who was laughing.  He lowered Frodo down to his chest, and felt the tiny arms twine around his neck.

“I missed you,” Frodo whispered. 

“As did I,” said Aragorn softly.  He was happy to see the young hobbit in such good health and spirits.  He held Frodo close for a moment, then sat up and set the boy on his feet, turning his attention to the tiny lad Frodo had brought with him.  The youngster was freckled and golden-haired, and seemed frozen to the ground.

“And who is this?”

“Samwise Gamgee,” said Frodo.  “Sam, this is Estel.”

“Hello, Samwise.”

Sam could hardly speak.  “H. . hello, sir,” he whispered.  “Rangers really don’t eat hobbits, do they?”

Aragorn chuckled.  “No, Samwise, they don’t.”

“Well, that’s good,” said the boy.  “I didn’t think they did, not really.”  That settled, he came forward and smiled at Aragorn.  “You can just call me Sam, then.”

** TBC **