After the Party
Frodo stood at the door of Bag End long after Gandalf was out of sight. Below him the party field was still alight with myriad candle decorations, lamps, and the larger glow of the tent Merry and Pippin had set afire - what was left of it! Behind him the halls of Bag End felt terribly empty; with Bilbo gone it felt no longer like home.
The hobbits were packing up now, food being secreted into large bags brought especially for the purpose, and corks sought for any unemptied bottles - of which there were not many. Probably one of the Proudfoot clan was trying to make away with any barrels with content left. More than a few would be muttering about the Mad Bagginses.
Frodo stood alone, looking down on it all. He was 33; he had come of age and come into his inheritance, though he would trade it all, down to the last seed cake in the last pantry, to be tramping off by Bilbo's side.
A sturdy figure was making its way up the side of the hill. "I thought you had vanished too, Mr Frodo," called Samwise Gamgee as he snicked open the garden gate.
"I wanted to say goodbye to Bilbo," Frodo replied.
"And did you?"
"No, he was already gone," his voice sounded so small and sad.
"Where's Mr Gandalf?" Sam asked.
"He went too."
Sam took hold of the situation. "Well, I have seen Rosie home. Come on in now and I'll make a pot of tea." And the gardener led the way into Bag End.
As Frodo moved to seat himself at the kitchen table he noticed tea cups already set out. His and Bilbo's. Suddenly he could not help himself. He just wanted to curl up in a corner, pull his knees up against his chest and cry like a tweenager.
"I think you ought to go now Sam," he said tremulously.
"Nonsense," replied Sam as he swung the kettle over the hearth. "Not on your coming of age night. And Mr Merry and Mr Pippin will no doubt be carried up here soon to stay the night."
Sam turned from busying himself with the tea things and took in his master's crushed demeanour. "Here now, Mr Frodo." The gardener forgot himself long enough to slide down on the bench next to Frodo and slip his strong arm around slender shoulders. Frodo looked up with forlorn blue eyes swimming with tears which all put broke his faithful friend's heart. Sam felt sudden anger for Mr Bilbo and his idea of a good joke, which could leave his heir so lost. "He should not have gone with out saying goodbye properly. Weren't right. Begging your pardon for saying so."
"I never though he really meant to go. Not like this. Oh, Sam, I so hoped he would take me with him."
Sam reached for a bottle of sweet cordial and poured a measure. "Here drink that," he said in fair imitation of the Gaffer. "And then to bed. I'll take care of Mr Merry and Mr Pippin when they get here."
Frodo picked up the cup with hands which suddenly were shaking. A big tear plopped into the cup and he had to set it down as they overflowed. He did not want to cry in front of Sam. He was far too old for that now. Oh, but he missed Bilbo so already, wanted to fly along the path and catch him up. Bilbo had been the one constant of his tweenage years, the one who picked him out for attention. Always had time for him. Loved him; adopted him; bought him home to Bag End and made sure he was never forgotten about. He was everything - father, teacher, friend - and now he was gone. Frodo felt very small and alone. He had only been of age a few hours - and he so wanted comfort. He turned to Sam and flung his arms round his solid friend. He could not go. He had to stay, and take up his responsibilities as an adult and master of Bag End. He would have to marry and raise a family and be respectable.
Meanwhile, he sobbed inconsolably on Samwise's neck while his friend tried to soothe him.
"It'll be alright Mr Frodo," said Sam awkwardly, although truth to tell whenever his Mr Frodo cried he always wanted to cry himself. Frodo's tears took all the sunshine out of the world.
"They all leave me," sobbed Frodo. "I am always left alone."
Sam rubbed at the shaking back and lent his head on the silken curls. He took a deep breath. "No, that's too harsh me dear. I promise you now. I'm not going anywhere. Your Samwise will never leave you. I promise."
Sam held Frodo as he sobbed and eventually the tears quieted into sniffing and Frodo looked up. "Oh, Sam. What would I do with out you? I am glad you are here with me."
end
Frodo stood at the door of Bag End long after Gandalf was out of sight. Below him the party field was still alight with myriad candle decorations, lamps, and the larger glow of the tent Merry and Pippin had set afire - what was left of it! Behind him the halls of Bag End felt terribly empty; with Bilbo gone it felt no longer like home.
The hobbits were packing up now, food being secreted into large bags brought especially for the purpose, and corks sought for any unemptied bottles - of which there were not many. Probably one of the Proudfoot clan was trying to make away with any barrels with content left. More than a few would be muttering about the Mad Bagginses.
Frodo stood alone, looking down on it all. He was 33; he had come of age and come into his inheritance, though he would trade it all, down to the last seed cake in the last pantry, to be tramping off by Bilbo's side.
A sturdy figure was making its way up the side of the hill. "I thought you had vanished too, Mr Frodo," called Samwise Gamgee as he snicked open the garden gate.
"I wanted to say goodbye to Bilbo," Frodo replied.
"And did you?"
"No, he was already gone," his voice sounded so small and sad.
"Where's Mr Gandalf?" Sam asked.
"He went too."
Sam took hold of the situation. "Well, I have seen Rosie home. Come on in now and I'll make a pot of tea." And the gardener led the way into Bag End.
As Frodo moved to seat himself at the kitchen table he noticed tea cups already set out. His and Bilbo's. Suddenly he could not help himself. He just wanted to curl up in a corner, pull his knees up against his chest and cry like a tweenager.
"I think you ought to go now Sam," he said tremulously.
"Nonsense," replied Sam as he swung the kettle over the hearth. "Not on your coming of age night. And Mr Merry and Mr Pippin will no doubt be carried up here soon to stay the night."
Sam turned from busying himself with the tea things and took in his master's crushed demeanour. "Here now, Mr Frodo." The gardener forgot himself long enough to slide down on the bench next to Frodo and slip his strong arm around slender shoulders. Frodo looked up with forlorn blue eyes swimming with tears which all put broke his faithful friend's heart. Sam felt sudden anger for Mr Bilbo and his idea of a good joke, which could leave his heir so lost. "He should not have gone with out saying goodbye properly. Weren't right. Begging your pardon for saying so."
"I never though he really meant to go. Not like this. Oh, Sam, I so hoped he would take me with him."
Sam reached for a bottle of sweet cordial and poured a measure. "Here drink that," he said in fair imitation of the Gaffer. "And then to bed. I'll take care of Mr Merry and Mr Pippin when they get here."
Frodo picked up the cup with hands which suddenly were shaking. A big tear plopped into the cup and he had to set it down as they overflowed. He did not want to cry in front of Sam. He was far too old for that now. Oh, but he missed Bilbo so already, wanted to fly along the path and catch him up. Bilbo had been the one constant of his tweenage years, the one who picked him out for attention. Always had time for him. Loved him; adopted him; bought him home to Bag End and made sure he was never forgotten about. He was everything - father, teacher, friend - and now he was gone. Frodo felt very small and alone. He had only been of age a few hours - and he so wanted comfort. He turned to Sam and flung his arms round his solid friend. He could not go. He had to stay, and take up his responsibilities as an adult and master of Bag End. He would have to marry and raise a family and be respectable.
Meanwhile, he sobbed inconsolably on Samwise's neck while his friend tried to soothe him.
"It'll be alright Mr Frodo," said Sam awkwardly, although truth to tell whenever his Mr Frodo cried he always wanted to cry himself. Frodo's tears took all the sunshine out of the world.
"They all leave me," sobbed Frodo. "I am always left alone."
Sam rubbed at the shaking back and lent his head on the silken curls. He took a deep breath. "No, that's too harsh me dear. I promise you now. I'm not going anywhere. Your Samwise will never leave you. I promise."
Sam held Frodo as he sobbed and eventually the tears quieted into sniffing and Frodo looked up. "Oh, Sam. What would I do with out you? I am glad you are here with me."
end