A/N: Like much literature, this story is best read slowly, and with leisure. Enjoy and review - feedback is an author's lembas!
Chapter 2 - Old Friends
Frodo awoke in the morning under a warm nest of blankets, and for a while was loath to leave them. His excitement soon returned to him, however, and he padded about the rooms searching for Bilbo, and humming an Elvish lay which echoed along the wood paneling of the hole.
"Is that a hobbit voice I hear singing of Telperion?"
This voice was familiar to him, and very dear, and Frodo ran to follow it all the way into the warm, sunlit sitting room.
"Gandalf! What a wonderful surprise!"
The old wizard rose from his seat by the fire to greet him. "My dear Frodo, it has really been too long." He held Frodo by the shoulders and looked down into his rosy face. "You are much changed since I saw you last; and yet," he said, smiling, "not so changed, from what I hear."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"I mean, that one begins to see the Brandybuck in you," said Gandalf, sitting back down.
"Oh, I see," said Frodo with a laugh. "You have been hobnobbing with my uncle, while I slept."
"A wizard does not 'hobnob', whatever that may be."
"It was Bilbo's idea, really, Gandalf." Frodo gestured at the kettle, which was already part full, and the wizard shook his long beard. "I would never have asked him to make such a long trip, at his age," he went on, hanging the kettle closer to the fire. He, at least, could use a cup of coffee this morning. And perhaps some of the fruit the Cottons had brought them. And the bread, from the night before last. "I'm not certain why he has decided to visit Rivendell – or at least, why now." He made some unnecessary adjustments to the fire, and then suddenly looked brightly at his guest. "But tell me, Gandalf, how have you been? Where have you been, these three years? I am sure there is so much to tell. But I forget myself. Have you had breakfast yet?"
Gandalf had not the faintest hunger; but reminding himself where he was, and with whom he was speaking, he managed to say, "I suppose a second breakfast will cause me no harm."
Frodo brought out fresh blackberries and cream from the larder, butter cakes (which the Hobbits called silby cakes) from the pantry, and soft bread from a covered basket at the window, and having set them about the kitchen table, he poured himself a steaming cup of exceptionally fine coffee, which happened to have been traded over the mountains from the foothills of Khand.
Gandalf ate a single berry, and studied Frodo from under his bushy brows. "I have been many places, Frodo," he said at last. "I have even been to the high towers and falls of Rivendell. But I confess that the peace to be found here in the Shire is, in many ways, very much like the peace found in the Valley." He looked even more intently at the young hobbit across from him as he said, "What is it that you expect you will find in Rivendell, Frodo Baggins?"
Frodo's eyes sparkled as he thought of a humorous answer; but he said, "I hope to find old friends, there among the Good People."
Silence was the wizard's response; but he was satisfied, and took one of the silby cakes for himself.
The sound of the large front door swinging open interrupted their companionable silence, and they turned to see Bilbo entering Bag End weighed down with a basket of freshly cut flowers. Frodo immediately stood, saying, "Uncle, and how are the fields this lovely morning?"
Bilbo gave him a look which made him laugh even more. "Very funny, my lad. I've just had a short visit with Master Hamfast – about the upkeep, you know, while we're gone. And his Daisy gave me these, 'to have them under the hill, and not just on it', as she put it." He set them down and hung his coat upon its hook, and watching his nephew from the corner of his eye, said, "She is a pretty flower, herself." He took up the basket again and held it out to Frodo.
"We don't have to gather our flowers to see their beauty. Do we, uncle?" said Frodo, taking the basket hastily from Bilbo and absconding with it into the kitchen. "But it was kind of her to send them," he called back.
Bilbo followed him, and he and Gandalf shared a look as Frodo quietly set the flowers into a vase with water and placed them in a pool of sun at the kitchen window. "I will tell her that you said so, my lad," said Bilbo.
Frodo reddened. "I am sure none of the Gamgees have need of our advice, when it comes to that," he said, and sat down.
"Well," said Bilbo, relenting, "and what have we here? Second breakfast, Gandalf? You never condescended to make a second breakfast with me. I see that you must have a favorite Baggins, my old friend, and I don't blame you. But, Frodo, what is this? You haven't served our guest his coffee!"
After lunch Gandalf told them many tales, of the places he had been and the people he had met, and the hobbits had the chance to ask him many questions. Then he left them for a while, "to breathe a little of the Shire air, and to see what might be seen." Frodo wandered alone into the sitting room. There he remained, taking up one of the several books which lay bookmarked about the hole, and sitting near the fire that burned lowly in the hearth.
After a while Bilbo came and found him there, no longer reading but looking into the grate.
"You are awfully quiet since breakfast, Frodo." He said at last. "I hope you did not mind what I said earlier, about our Daisy."
Frodo looked at him warily. "No, I did not. But I have been wondering –" He gave a great yawn. "– I meant to ask Gandalf why he has come here now, but I could not bring myself to ask him."
Bilbo seemed relieved by his answer. "In truth, my lad, I don't know that myself. He is a deep old file, as, I suppose, all wizards are. I do not doubt he has his reasons, though he does not always tell me what they are; and there are times I wonder if he knows them himself."
At that Frodo appeared to lapse back into thought. Bilbo stood for a moment, not knowing if his sitting down would intrude upon Frodo's meditation; but, he concluded, perhaps it was the sort of meditation that needed company, and he sat down to warm his feet at the hearth.
Bolman Boffin sat on the stool that was widely acknowledged to be his, quite unhappy, and determined that those about him should share his mood. He held his tankard close, and huffed noisily at his neighbor.
"Now, I don't care what anyone may say, Tanson. When the old man shows his beard, it's trouble coming and no doubt, as anyone with a mind to remember will tell you. And I don't welcome trouble, nor does any other hobbit: not any hobbit in his right mind, that is."
Tan Tolbas rolled his eyes. "Nor does any right-minded hobbit chatter on so about his own cousins. For shame, Bom. You have been sharing too many pints with that Sandyman fellow."
"Who I keep company with is my own business."
"Your hypocrisy could not be bounded by the Four Farthings."
"Well!" said Bom, shifting on his stool. "I tell it as I see it. They're ain't no hypocrisy in that."
Tan smiled at him. "No! I believe that is simply called 'bad manners.'" He waved at the bartender. "Ei, Poll! Polgaran! Another two, if you please." The drinks came, and the two friends settled back down.
Tan put his hands in his pockets. "Forgive me, Bom. I believe I was too sharp, just then."
"Aye," said Bom. "Maybe you were, and maybe you weren't."
Tan smiled truly this time. "Bom, you are wise as a wizard, you know. There are times I think your rough-and-tumble exterior is just a lovable mask to hide all the wisdom buried far, far beneath."
"Har, har. And wouldn't my wife be wishing the same!" said Bolman, and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve.
"Oh, Bom, not this again. What on earth do you do with your napkins, if you wipe your mouth on your sleeve?"
"What I do with my napkins is my own business," said Bom, chuckling.
"I take back what I said about wisdom. I have never heard such foolish words."
"Hoy, then, Tan. Do you really believe that old man has not come to go a-causing trouble again?" said Bom after a while. "He is the very same that came and magicked away poor Bilbo, so they say, in my father's time. And everyone knows my poor cousin has never been quite the same since he came back, which it's a marvel that he did."
"Nay, I do not. And if he does, well – perhaps it is not the bad sort of trouble. Your cousin, or cousins, I should say, are very well off. Much better off than you, or I, or anyone else here, for that matter. I do not know about Master Baggins; but Frodo is a rare one, from what I hear. I am inclined to like him, though I do not know him."
Bolman finished off his tankard and pushed it back. "Well, Tan, I hope you're right about it all. We don't need no trouble round here – leastways, not the bad sort, har har. But at any rate, I believe my cousin is getting too old for old wizard's tricks, although he don't look it."
"If he is anything like you, Bom, he would probably say, 'Who I keep company with is my own business.'"
Bolman grunted in a way that Tanson took to say "I reluctantly cede the point." The two hobbits silently agreed that they had had their last drink for the night, and Bolman paid the bill as Tanson slid down off the stool that was widely acknowledged to be his.
"My bill tomorrow," said Tan.
"That it certainly is," said Bom.
The two hobbits walked out the door of the Fiddler's Hearth, and bid each other good night and safe return in the cool sobering air. It was quiet without, and the winter stars, laid out in their seasonal array, broke through the thin clouds above them as they parted.