This chapter is dedicated to Frodo_Baggins_Of_Bag_End ( u/189296/Frodo-Baggins-of-Bag-End) who lost a long battle with her health three days ago and went to meet her saviour. Her hobbity fanfictions were what inspired me to begin writing and she is missed by many in the Lord of the Rings fanfic community.

Life at Bag End settled into a routine. So much so that Frodo began to experience, once more, the 'curse' of the Baggins itchy feet. In an attempt to scratch that itch he took to visiting family more frequently and, having improved his cooking skills, even considered inviting family and friends to visit him. So it was that one balmy evening, he was seated in the private parlour of Paladin and Eglantine Took, in Great Smials.

Eglantine passed him a cup of tea. "Are you absolutely certain that you want Pippin with you? He's quite a handful."

Frodo grinned as he set the tea on a side table. The aforementioned Pippin had retired to his bed some hours earlier and his older sisters had just been in to kiss their parents goodnight. Now there were only the three adults, sitting around the empty summer hearth, with a low table of snacks between them.

"I am. I'm sure I'll be able to entertain him for three weeks. Sam will help and we were thinking it could be fun to work off some energy by taking a few hikes."

Paladin shook his head. "Just so long as you stay away from the borders. You and your hiking."

Frodo cut himself a piece of cold pork pie, adding a spoonful of peach chutney to his plate. "Don't worry. I'll keep him safe, and I like to walk."

Aunt Eglantine surveyed him over the rim of her teacup. "I confess that for a while I wondered if you would pack up and follow your uncle, off into the wilds."

Frodo offered a lopsided smile. "And I confess that there were a few times, in that first year after he left, that I felt like doing just that."

"And now?" his Uncle Paladin enquired.

"Now I feel more settled. I think, had I left in that first year, I would be running away from something, and not toward."

Eglantine set down her cup, nodding. "You were a wild one when you were Pip's age, but once you settled down with Bilbo, you showed your true colours. You turned into a kind tween, and you have added wisdom to that since you came of age. It can't have been easy for you in Hobbiton, so far from family. I'm sorry we could not have done more, but I don't worry for you any more."

Frodo took a sip of his tea. "In truth, I don't think there was anything more that you could have done. One thing I have learned is that being independent is something that can only be learned by doing, and everyone in Hobbiton has been very good, the people on Bagshot Row particularly."

Paladin re-lit his pipe. "I was sorry to hear about the death of your neighbour the other year. I understand Bell Gamgee was a big help to you and Bilbo. Although I'm not sure of the wisdom of gifting Number Three to her family." When Frodo's eyes widened Pal raised a brow. "Oh, don't ever think I don't hear everything that goes on outside Tookborough. Young May Gamgee is an unsuspecting font of information on the doings of Hobbiton folk."

Frodo paused for a moment, surprised to discover that mention of Bell no longer brought the threat of tears. "Bell was as dear to me as family. As for Number Three; I live simply. The loss of its rent has not left me short of funds, especially after I came into the inheritance from my parents. Anyway, if I had kept the property I would have felt obliged to find extra work for Sam. With his gaffer's arthritis they would have struggled to find the rent. Bell used to do all sorts of little jobs for people in the village, and with her death that money was no longer coming in. Even the little money Daisy used to make was lost, once she married and left home." He hastened to add, "Not that she doesn't help out when she can."

Eglantine smiled fondly. "You have grown into the perfect gentlehobbit, Frodo Baggins. It is always the place of those of us with much, to help out those who have little."

Frodo coloured slightly. "I had some good teachers." He cleared his throat and stood. "And I think now that I should find my bed. Tom Carter says he wants to set out early tomorrow and I would not wish to keep him waiting." He held out a hand to Paladin. "No doubt you'll be out and about on the farm by the time I leave, so I'll say goodbye now, and thank you. I have enjoyed my visit and I promise to look after your son."

Paladin shook his hand firmly. "I know you will, Frodo. It was a pleasure to have you, and you are always welcome in Great Smials."

Eglantine shook her head when Frodo offered her his hand. "Oh no you don't, Frodo Baggins. I shall be standing at the door to hug my son and his cousin on the morrow. You may be grown but I trust you'll accept a hug from your Aunt as you leave."

Frodo grinned. "I would love a hug from my Aunt Eglantine, on any and all occasions."

Over the course of the next day Frodo had ample cause to remember his discussion with Pippin's parents.

"Beggin' yer pardon for sayin' this, but yon youngster could talk the hind leg off a side of beef." Tom Carter glanced back, to where said youngster, Peregrin Took, had curled up and fallen asleep among the boxes and bags in the rear of the cart.

Frodo chuckled. "You've no need to beg. I think growing up with three older sisters has forced him to save up all his words for other company."

Tom flicked a rein and his placid pony turned left onto the Bywater road. "Are you sure ye want him visitin' for so long? Three weeks, didn't ye say?"

Now Frodo looked back fondly at his sleeping cousin, tucking a blanket closer under Pippin's pointed chin. "I'm quite sure. Hobbiton folk are a friendly lot and Sam is in and out of Bag End most days, but it's still a big smial for one hobbit. Sometimes it's too quiet."

Tom snorted softly. "Then ye'd best get started on findin' a lass and fillin' it with bairns of yer own, Mister Baggins. Whatever came of Miss May Gamgee? As I recall, ye were sweet on her upon a time."

Frodo's gaze grew distant. "I was. But, somehow, we just drifted apart. Maybe it's because Great Smials is so far away. When I saw her this visit she introduced me to her new beau, Erling Overhill. He works in the stables there."

"Aye. I've met him. He looks after my Farley when we spend a night at the Smials. Nice lad. She could do worse."

"Better than Mad Baggins, eh?" Frodo returned with a mixture of amusement and sorrow.

"Now, Mister Frodo, I didn't say that and it don't do ye no good to take such names to yourself."

"Are we there, yet?" came Pippin's sleepy voice.

Frodo's good humour returned at once. "No, but you have awakened just in time to stop at the Green Dragon for a bite to eat."

"Ooh, good!"

Two weeks later, four days after Frodo's birthday party, the young master of Bag End was beginning to reconsider his decision to entertain his fifteen year old cousin for three whole weeks. Frodo was checking the contents of Pippin's pack one last time, to make sure that the lad had packed soap and a spare set of smalls, when his hand encountered yet another apple.

"Pip," do you really need so many snacks? Sam and I will both be carrying food for the journey and we intend to stop off for supper at an inn tonight."

"They're just to keep me going," the youngster explained, as he hopped from foot to foot by the open kitchen door.

Frodo shook his head, repacking the apple with the handful of nuts, small parcel of biscuits, three other apples, bag of raisins, and small chunk of cheese that he had already unearthed from the depths of Pippin's pack.

They were awaiting Sam's arrival and, as Frodo watched his cousin jigging about in poorly suppressed excitement, he found himself uttering words he had heard Bell Gamgee say to her youngsters so many times. "Peregrin Took, if you need to visit the outhouse do it now. Once Sam arrives we shan't wait for stragglers."

Peregrin rolled his eyes, although the statement did have the effect of making him stand still. "Honestly, Frodo! I'm not a faunt, you know."

The timely arrival of Sam forestalled any reply. "Sorry to keep you waiting, sirs. Only Marigold insisted we take a few hard-boiled eggs and they wasn't quite done."

Pippin eyed Sam's pack, speculatively. "You did bring them, though?"

"Oh yes, Master Peregrin." Sam shrugged his pack higher and cinched a strap. "There's a full dozen. They'll be cooled down nicely by the time we stop for lunch."

Frodo shooed Pippin out of the door, locking it behind them. "Make yourself useful, Pip. Run down the hill to Number Three and give this key to Marigold. She already has the one to the front door."

Once he returned Frodo led them across the garden and shared backyard for Bagshot Row. With a quick wave to Arty Sedgebury they stepped into the lane at the bottom of the hill and turned right to take the road posted to Little Delving and Needlehole.

Sam and Frodo had to moderate their steps to accommodate Pippin's slightly shorter stride, for the lad still had a few years of growing to do, in both mind and body. Frustration at their pace was impossible, however, for he had a cheerful disposition that could brighten the rainiest of days.

Their lunch break was a little longer than Frodo would have liked, for Pippin kept requesting just one more egg. In the end it was Sam who curtailed Pippin's eating by pointing out that too many eggs had been known to have an unfortunate effect on the bowels, adding sagely, that constipation was not comfortable when taking long walks. They arrived at the Crossroads Inn, in time for supper and spent a relatively comfortable night, before resuming their journey, bright and early the following day.

"So, where are we going, again?" Pippin asked as he kicked a small stone aside.

Frodo and Sam were no longer surprised by this question, for it was repeated at hourly intervals, liberally interspersed with, "Is it much farther?" or, "When can we eat?"

"We're making for Bindbole Wood, so look out for the signpost for Needlehole on our right. We've just passed the one for Little Delving." Frodo pointed back along the road that was now little more than a track.

Sam looked behind, a little wistfully. "I've never been this far north in the Shire, Mister Frodo. My Da says he came with Mister Bilbo once, but he didn't stop for long. He said they had to sleep in a hay loft, 'cause Needlehole don't have an inn." Sam's tone made it clear that, in his eyes, a village that could not boast an inn, where a hobbit could get a good meal and a pint of ale, was no village at all.

Pippin's eyes widened in alarm, as he came to a sudden stop. "Will we have to sleep in a hayloft too?"

Frodo gave a merry laugh. "No, Peregrin Took. We shall be sleeping outdoors, under the stars."

His cousin skipped to catch up. "But what if it rains? And what will we do for supper?"

"Don't you fret, Master Pippin. I've learned how to cook a good supper out-of-doors. And Mister Frodo is a dab hand at settin' up a camp," Sam assured him.

"Will we have enough food?"

Frodo let out a good natured sigh. "Yes, Pip. There's a farm where Bilbo used to buy milk and bread and, if I know Sam, he'll have that pack of his stuffed to the top with bacon, sausages and other good foods."

"I have that, Mister Frodo. There's even a few taters and some mushrooms in here," Sam agreed, with some pride.

A few hours later three replete hobbits lay about the embers of a campfire, in a clearing within Bindbole Wood. Rolled in their blankets, they stared contentedly at the stars winking, one by one, into life above them. Pippin's voice was already sleepy. "Do you ever wonder what stars are?"

It was Sam who replied. "Mister Bilbo said it was somethin' to do with the elves, but I didn't rightly understand."

Frodo placed his hands behind his head. "I don't know what they are, but I can tell you something of what the elves believe." His companions settled back to listen, for Frodo had a pleasant speaking voice. "It is said that Middle earth and the heavens were sung into being by the Ainur, in concert with Illuvatar, the great creator of all. It was the task of Varda, who is also called Elbereth-Gilthoniel, to create and cast stars into the heavens. Her name means, Star Kindler. There were stars long before there was Sun or Moon, and stars were the first thing that the very first elves saw, when Illuvatar awakened them upon the shores of the Sea of Helcar, in the bay of Cuiviénen. Thus it is that elves revere starlight above all other lights."

When Frodo reached the end of his explanation there was silence and he rolled his head to the side to find that Pippin was fast asleep. At the other side of their small fire Sam's voice was almost drowned in sleep as well. "Cuivienen. I like that word. Star Kindler…" His words trailed away into a soft snore.

For some time Frodo lay, naming the constellations as they wheeled above him, but eventually, despite his best efforts to stay awake in hopes of hearing footsteps, he too fell asleep.

The next day they spent their time exploring. Bindbole wood covered the slopes of some low hills and contained no dwellings. There were signs that the people of the surrounding villages came to gather wood, for many of the trees had been coppiced, and they discovered the remnants of a couple of charcoal kilns with their attendant ramshackle shelters. It seemed otherwise untouched and empty, although Frodo insisted that elves sometimes travelled through on their way to the harbour on the western shore of Beleriand.

Sam proved very skilled in foraging and soon what food they had eaten the night before was replenished with assorted berries, roots, mushrooms and nuts. It began to grow colder as the afternoon wore on and, when they returned to the clearing where they had set up camp, it was to discover that the sky was clouding over.

"Maybe we should pack up our things and make for Needlehole," Pippin suggested, with a frown at the sky. "Sleeping outside is all very well on a clear night, but I don't fancy trying to sleep in a rainstorm."

Sam only looked to his master for a decision and Frodo mentally reviewed their supplies. "I would like to spend at least one more night here, having come all this way. We may yet encounter elves."

Pippin sighed. "Elves? Why do you want to see elves? From what I've heard, they don't even talk our language. What's the point of meeting them if you can't speak with them?"

"Most of them can speak Westron, Pip. And if they don't, I speak a little elvish. Bilbo was teaching me before he left the Shire and I've been reading some of his books."

Sam's eyes grew distant. "I'd like to see elves. They sound so…well…so magical. Mister Bilbo told me lots of tales about their great deeds."

Pippin rolled his eyes. "But they're not doing any of those great deeds now, are they? And unless one of those deeds is to hold back a rainstorm, I don't see why you would want to speak to them cousin?"

Frodo's face grew serious. "I spoke to some dwarves at the Free Fair and they mentioned some disquieting rumours from the outside world. I'd like to know whether the elves have heard them too."

"Why should the outside world worry you?" Pippin asked with a shrug.

"Because sometimes the outside doesn't stay outside, Pip." Frodo snapped as he dropped his pack. Pippin's face fell and Frodo was contrite at once, touching his shoulder, gently. "I'm sorry, Pip. I didn't mean to be so short-tempered, but the more we talk about it, the more I'm convinced that I need to at least try to meet them. Sam, I think we packed the tarpaulin in your bag. We can stretch it between these four saplings and it will keep off the worst of any rain. Pip, you restart the fire. We need it for cooking and I suspect it will be colder tonight."

He fished in his pocket for flint and steel, but as he drew them out a chain came with them. By some strange chance the chain parted and a fine gold ring flew off, rolling away into the undergrowth. "No!" Frodo chased after it at once, rummaging frantically among the tree roots and damp mulch of last year's leaf-mould. For several, heart stopping seconds he thought it was lost, then a stray beam of light from the setting sun peeped between the tree boles to draw an answering golden glow. Frodo grabbed up the ring and breathed drew breath once more.

He turned around to find both Sam and Pippin standing, open-mouthed. Frodo suddenly realised how strange he must have seemed and made a production of re-attaching the clasp at the end of the chain to the ring, relieved that by the time he looked up again their mouths had closed. He gave what he hoped looked to be a nonchalant smile and shrugged as he tucked ring and chain back into his pocket. "Bilbo gave it to me. I don't want to lose it." Even as he tried to convince them, he was also trying to convince himself. Perhaps Gandalf had the right of it when he had told Frodo to put the ring away somewhere, but Bilbo had always carried it thus.

Pippin returned to collecting dry wood, but Frodo was very aware of Sam's assessing gaze as the two of them worked to create the night's shelter.

The rain was at least polite enough to wait until after they had eaten their supper, then all three collected their gear and rolled into their blankets beneath the makeshift awning.

Sam sniffed the air. "I reckon it's set in til mornin', Mister Frodo."

"Wonderful. A cold soggy night ahead of us. Couldn't we make a run for Needlehole. It's not that far," Pippin asked in a mournful tone. "Even that hay loft is beginning to sound good now."

"Not while it's dark, Pip. With no stars or moonlight there's not enough light for safe walking. You're likely to trip over a tree root and break your neck." Frodo settled closer to his younger cousin. "If we all cuddle closer we'll keep each other warm." Sam took the hint and soon Pippin was sandwiched warmly between his elders and fast asleep.

Frodo was not so fortunate. The rain was driving in at his side of their shelter and his back was soon wet and cold. He could do nothing about it, however, so he set himself to endure. Sam and Pippin awoke just as the sky was beginning to brighten with the dawn. Frodo had slept not a wink but he tried not to let it show as he tried to stretch chilled back muscles. This expedition had been his idea, after all, but despite being awake all night he had seen or heard no sign of any elves. Elves had more sense than to be abroad in a downpour, he reflected ruefully as he helped shake out blankets.

"I wonder when the rain stopped," Pippin mused as he rolled his blankets.

"Not long before dawn," Frodo replied as he helped Sam dismantle their shelter.

Sam paused in his work. "Have you been awake all night?"

Frodo grimaced. "You've caught me out, Sam. I'm afraid I was. I think the best thing we can do now is pack up and walk into Needlehole. Hopefully, our friendly farmer's wife will supply breakfast for a few coins." He nodded to the sodden remnants of the previous night's fire. "I doubt we'll find much in the way of dry kindling to cook our own."

Sam renewed his determined efforts to unpick knots swollen by the rain, muttering, "You should have woken me."

Despite being cold to the bone Frodo laughed. "What ever for? There was no point all of us being awake and Pip here is still a growing lad. He needs his sleep."

Only minutes later they were picking their way through the dripping trees. The land fell away to the west, draining into Rushock Bog, just to the south of Needlehole. "At least it's not such a slog when we're going downhill," Pippin commented.

Ten minutes later he was regretting his words. Water dripped from the branches overhead, onto their heads and inside their collars. What ground not criss-crossed with tree roots was blanketed in slippery leaf-mould, and they had to splash through several rivulets of run-off, most of which were little more than a mud slurry. Their legs were soon coated with mud up to the knee, and Sam had saved Pippin from falling several times, before the sun had even cleared what horizon they could glimpse through the dense wood and cloud.

Frodo came to a sudden halt. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Pippin asked with some exasperation. "Whatever it is, I vote we postpone examining it until after breakfast."

Sam had his head cocked. "I think so. A sort of cracking, creaking sound?"

Frodo nodded. "Hello? Now it's turned to a rumble." Suddenly he blinked and rubbed his eyes as the trees just behind Sam seemed to glide majestically down the slope. Then a small birch tree began to lean, followed by another, knocking the first sideways, toward Sam. "Sam! Look out!"

But Sam did not know what to look out for. By the time he began to turn to look behind, his time had run out. To Frodo's horror the small tree crashed down upon his friend and Sam was lost to sight below a pile of bronze-leaved branches.

Pippin watched in horror as a long procession of trees and shrubs slid away down the hill. When the land finally came to a halt he could only turn to his cousin. "What just happened?"

Frodo ran to the fallen tree. "Landslide. The rain must have weakened the slope."

Pippin joined him as they began to push their way through branches to find some sign of Sam. "It's lucky we weren't a few yards to the right when it started."

"I doubt Sam feels particularly lucky at present, Pip." Frodo finally found one of Sam's sturdy arms and he and his little cousin began bending and breaking branches until his face came into view.

Pippin grew pale and a tear tracked down his face. "Is he… is he dead?"

"Sam? Sam? Can you hear me," Frodo called in some desperation. When Sam's eyelids did not so much as flicker he reached in to lay fingers against his throat, relieved to discover a strong pulse. "No, Pip. He's alive. Help me get more of these branches off him."

The two worked frantically for several minutes until they could finally see all of their companion. The birch was young, and its slender trunk had missed Sam by a couple of feet. But the hapless hobbit was pinned by the legs beneath two strong branches and still showing no signs of consciousness. Frodo and Pippin dropped to their knees and tried to lift one of the branches free, but their efforts availed nothing.

Pippin swiped his tearful face with a sleeve and Frodo ran a muddy hand through his hair. "We can't do this alone." He took Pippin's shoulders. "You need to fetch help, Pip."

"But I don't know the way," the youngster sobbed.

Frodo met his eyes. "You just have to keep going downhill until you're clear of the trees. Once there you will see the farm buildings in the distance. Look for the big green barn."

The younger Pippin shook his head and Frodo took his shoulders. "Pip, you must do this. I have to stay here, in case Sam wakes up. I trust you, Pip. Do this for Sam."

Pippin sniffed then gave a brisk nod. Before he scrambled to his feet Frodo gave him a quick, strong hug. "Be careful. We don't want any more accidents."

"I will. Don't worry, Frodo. I'll bring help," and with those words he sprang off down the slope at a sure-footed speed that only the young can manage.

Frodo settled on the damp mulch, heedless of his own comfort, and lifted Sam's head into his lap. "Hang on, Sam." He looked about, surprised to find that the sun had still barely lightened the overcast sky, for it already felt like an age since they had set out.

He was beginning to rummage in his pack for a blanket when he felt a growing awareness that he was not alone and began to scan the trees. Surely Pippin had not even cleared the trees by now, but perhaps he had found someone foraging for mushrooms. It was not Pippin who coalesced from the shadows however.

"Do you need assistance, Master Hobbit?" The tall and slender figure was dressed in shades of green and grey, with a fall of long dark hair constrained by a simple leather fillet.

Even as he looked, Frodo saw others appearing, and then he found a face he recognised from long ago travels with his uncle. "Gilas! Thank goodness! Please … my friend is trapped."

The pale haired elf stepped up at once, signalling for others to join him. Their combined strength easily lifted the tree while others helped Frodo drag his friend free. Gilas motioned to one of the others and a dark-haired lady gracefully lowered herself to Sam's side to run her hands along his limbs and torso. When she had finished she offered a reassuring smile to Frodo.

"He hit his head but I sense no lasting damage there. He will have a headache when he awakens, but that is all." She pointed to his left knee, which was beginning to swell beneath a selection of scratches. "He has some scratches that need cleaning and also some internal damage; what is most commonly called a twisted knee. I can treat those and they require only rest to mend well."

Frodo touched hand to heart as he bowed his head, remembering his manners at last. "Le vilui".

The lady smiled. "It is the least I can do, in the face of such courtesy." As she finished speaking another elf came forward with a small basin and cloths. The lady's touch was tender and, when she had cleaned and salved the injuries, she wrapped Sam's leg from ankle to thigh with several rolls of soft bandages. It was the work of only minutes in her capable hands. Once Sam was settled, his head still in Frodo's lap, Gilas hunkered down at his side. "I had not thought to find you here without your uncle."

"Bilbo no longer lives in the Shire. It's been many years since we met but I hoped to find you in these woods. I remembered that Bilbo often used to travel here and return with tales of elves," Frodo explained as he stroked Sam's brow absently.

"You took a chance. We do not take this route often and Bilbo used to write for details of our journey. As it happens, we had arranged to meet someone else in these woods."

Frodo was crestfallen. "I did not know that. Thank goodness that you were here. I have sent Pippin for help but I do not know how soon he will return."

One of the elves offered Frodo a small flask and he took a sip of the sweetest water he had ever tasted. "We will stay with you until your companion returns. But, did you have some specific reason to seek us out?"

"I met a group of dwarves at the Free Fair this summer and they told me of some disturbing rumours. I hoped to clarify them with you."

Gilas seemed perfectly comfortable hunkered by his side, and Frodo noticed that, unlike himself, the elves shoes and legs were hardly marked by the mud. "What rumours are these?"

Frodo frowned. "They spoke of trolls and orcs multiplying. They said that they had even heard talk of a tower being rebuilt away in the south. It all sounded very dark to me."

Gilas tilted his head to one side. "And why would such stories worry a hobbit, safe within the borders of the Shire?"

"That's just it. Are our borders safe against such as those? We have no great armies. I'm not even sure that we have any weapons, other than the odd hunting bow."

"I see." Gilas gave a faint smile. "You need have no worries, Mister Baggins. Your borders are kept safe by more than your Bounders and Shirrifs."

"Oh?"

Gilas arose. "I can say no more on the matter. It is not we, although we help where we can, as you and your uncle learned but a few years ago. Be assured that others watch your borders closely and no orcs or trolls will trouble you. As for the rest…little news travels now from the south, so I cannot answer your questions about a tower."

Frodo got the distinct impression that Gilas knew more than he was willing to say, with regard to that tower, but at that moment he heard voices and large boots tramping through the woods. Sam, too, seemed to rouse. "Frodo?"

Before Frodo could thank them, Gilas touched a finger to his lips and the elves melted away into the trees, just as Sam opened his eyes and Pippin dashed into view. If Pippin saw the elves he made no sign, only gesticulating behind him to a tall figure, dressed in tattered and mud spattered robes and a large, pointed blue hat. Frodo's heart lifted, "Gandalf! Beyond all hope!"

The wizard swept off his hat, hanging it with some nonchalance upon a nearby low hanging branch. "I don't see why it is beyond hope. I told you to expect me when I was least expected, and here I am. Just as well, it seems. You seem to have developed the same skill for getting into trouble as your uncle," he huffed as he bent to examine Sam, who's eyes were as large as saucers by now.

Frodo decided that now was not the time to point out that any trouble his Uncle Bilbo had landed in was at Gandalf's instigation.

"I met Gandalf as I came out of the woods," Pippin declared. "Well, not met exactly. He sort of, swept me off my feet." Pippin's words swept him off too. "I was running along, toward that green barn, when I was suddenly there I was, hanging in mid-air. Old Gandalf here had slipped the end of his staff beneath the hood of my cloak, and for a moment I thought I'd been picked up by one of Bilbo's eagles. I started to struggle. I don't want to be carried off by eagles, thank you very much. And then this voice shouts, 'If you don't stop struggling, Peregrin Took, your cloak will rip and your lady mother will have both our hides!' She would, too. So I stopped and it turned out to be Gandalf."

Gandalf was checking Sam's bandages and now he looked from Frodo to the woods and back again. Reminded of Gilas' urging for silence Frodo only nodded and Gandalf gave a conspiratorial wink.

Now Sam murmured, "What happened, and how did Mr Gandalf get here?"

Pippin grinned. "I brought him. Or rather, he sort of brought me." He looked from fallen tree to Sam, and then at the neatly bandaged leg. "Hello, what happened here. Frodo, did you manage to drag Sam free after all? That really was too bad of you when I was careening about in the semi-darkness, and getting accosted by wizards."

Sam groaned, bringing a hand to his apparently aching head. Gandalf scowled. "Enough of your infernal chatter, lad. Let's get Master Gamgee to my cart and home to a warm bed." This apparently elderly man lifted a rather surprised Sam as though he were no more than a sack of feathers. "Bring my hat, if you please, Frodo."

Sam leaned around Gandalf's shoulder. "Mr Frodo, did we meet elves?"

Frodo smiled. "Why ever would you think that? I believe that bang on the head made you imagine things."

By courtesy of Gandalf's cart, the following nightfall saw Sam tucked up in his own bed, being waited upon, hand and foot, by his sister. Doctor Brockleby was consulted and declared that he had never seen a better example of bandaging. Indeed, as he was considering retiring soon, would Mister Baggins consider taking over the post of doctor?

Frodo laughed nervously, saying only that it was amazing what a person could accomplish when put to the wall.

Le vilui (Sind.) = Thank you/You are kind