Chapter Rating: PG (angsty, adult situations, pipeweed use)
Chapter Title: Birthday Party

September 22nd S.R. 1421

"Hey! Is the birthday boy at home?" Merry called out as Sam opened the front door. He and Pippin had ridden over from Crickethollow. It was September 22nd, the joint birthday of Frodo and his Uncle Bilbo Baggins. Frodo always held a private birthday celebration to toast his Uncle's birthday and his own. But this year Frodo was quite unable to plan the party.

Iris had sent word privately to Merry and Pippin concerning Frodo's failing health. She warned them that this would be Frodo's last birthday party. So his good friends had decided to take matters into their own hands and arrange the party for him. They had, of course, run the plans by Sam and Rosie, who in turn, had run them past Frodo's physician. All was approved, and now the party was beginning.

It was to be a quiet affair ... just the four friends who had journeyed together throughout Middle Earth, plus Sam's wife and infant daughter. Quiet and unhurried, as good times between old friends should be. Quiet and unhurried, so as to not aggravate Frodo's precarious health.

"Happy birthday, Frodo!" Pippin cheerily sang out as he stepped through the door. "Where are you, you old grunt?"

"In the living room," came the reply from further back in the smial.

"Be right there!" Merry called out. He pulled Sam aside as Pippin ducked through the opening and went on in. "Sam, we brought over a barrel of Barliman's ale. Is Frodo allowed ale? I don't want to go offering it if he can't have it, you know."

"Ale's fine if he wants it," Sam replied. "It's all up to him now. The doc says he can have anything he wants. If we can get him to smoke a pipe or two of his medicine later that'll help too. But go on and take the barrel on in to 'im. He'll be pleased whether he takes some tonight or no."

Merry retrieved the barrel from outside. He shouldered it in past Sam, ducked through the lintel, and strode into the living room.

Pippin was already sitting cross-legged on the rug, playing with the baby. Elanor was dressed in her party finery; a fluffy pink poof of a dress with yellow and green ribbons laced through eyeholes all along the bottom flounce. She had a matching set of ribbons in her golden hair. She was the center of attention in the room, and already knew how to work the crowd.

Rose was sitting on the couch, watching Pippin tickle the baby as she laughed and kicked her legs. Frodo was reclining propped up in a great chair next to the fireplace, leaning against a pile of pillows, his feet resting on an ottoman. He was dressed for a party as well, wearing his favorite dark chocolate silk coat and vest suit with matching deep green paisley ascot and handkerchief. His legs were swaddled in a quilt, and an ornately-carved cane leaned against the chair within easy reach.

If Merry hadn't have known Frodo, he would have assumed him to be an elderly gentlehobbit in a state of decline. Frodo's dark chestnut hair was shot through with grey and silver streaks. The suit helped hide some of his weight loss, but even so he appeared unnaturally thin. It was his face which showed his illness the most. His once-blue eyes now had a white film over the pupils, and dark circles under the eyes. But Merry and Frodo had grown up together out at Brandy Hall. Merry knew Frodo was only 53 today.

"Merry, good of you to come," Frodo said. "What is that you've brought?"

Merry set down the barrel. "Well, if Sam will get us all a mug, I'll pour you some of what I've brought." He went over and kissed Frodo on the cheek. "Happy birthday, Frodo. I've talked ole Barliman out of a barrel of his finest ale. Will you join us in a mug for old time's sake?"

Sam paused on his way into the kitchen, awaiting Frodo's answer. You could never tell what he would or would not do these days. Sam had given up trying to anticipate Frodo's moods.

"Yes," he said with a smile, "I'll have a glass."

"Great! I'll be right back," Sam called out as he disappeared. He quickly reappeared carrying five mugs. Merry tapped the barrel, carefully placed one in Frodo's right hand, passed out the other frothy mugs, and proposed a toast.

"Happy birthday, Frodo Baggins," Merry pontificated. "To the finest hobbit and dearest friend one could ever have."

"Here, here!" Pippin seconded the toast and almost drained his mug in one gulp.

Frodo raised his mug, "And least we forget, here's to Bilbo Baggins, who finally surpasses the legendary Old Took today. Happy birthday, Bilbo, my dear."

"Here, here!" Pippin seconded the new toast, and finished his beer. "Merry ...I'm all out! Let's not be stingy with Frodo's gift!"

As was the custom on hobbit birthday parties, the birthday person provided their guests with presents. Frodo knew about the party, of course, and had planned a special present for each of his Fellowship companions. With the help of Rosie, he had finished and copied out the first section of the Red Book started by Bilbo. The full Red Book was nearing completion by Frodo. He had each copy of the small book bound in beautiful red leather with a green ribbon bookmark, and had his Uncle's original title for the book embossed in gold letters across the front: "There and Back Again ... a Hobbit's Tale by Bilbo Baggins."

He presented Merry, Pippin and Sam with their own copies.

"For you, and your children, and your children's children," Frodo solemnly said. "Someday these histories may be viewed as simple legends or fables, only to be read to children on dark winter's nights by the fire. But we know them to be true. Read them to your children and keep the memories alive."

"Mister Frodo, it's beautiful!" Sam's eyes watered as he looked at Rose. She smiled back at her husband. Sam knew the labor of love each book represented better than anyone else in the room.

Frodo had not actually copied out the book himself. During the past month his eyesight had failed, so he recruited Sam and even Rose as his scribes. Many afternoons they would bring Elanor to sit in Frodo's arms as he dictated chapter after chapter to their capable care. On rainy days Sam would take over the task. Frodo was insistent that the work continue, no matter how terrible he felt. But Rosie was just as stubborn. She always had Elanor in the room whenever Mister Frodo was at work. She knew instinctively that Frodo couldn't resist playing and dawdling over her beautiful infant, and that was good for his health. Lately Elanor and Frodo had started taking afternoon naps together. Frodo needed the extra rest and actually slept better while propped up surrounded by pillows and with his beloved Elanor cradled in his thin arms.

The party continued with dinner and more of the excellent beer. Frodo managed to eat most of his serving. He was eating less and less as the pain in his stomach increased from day to day. But this day was one of his rare good days when he was relatively pain-free. He was able to enjoy the excellent stew and squash bread Rosie had baked earlier in the day. Honeyed peaches and brandied cherries followed, along with a special spiced brandy Sam had been hording.

The party moved back into the living room, with Rosie excusing herself, taking Elanor for nursing and then bedtime. Sam lead Frodo to his chair and arranged the quilt around his legs as the fragile hobbit painfully repositioned himself in the pillows.

"A dinner as excellent as that deserves a good pipe as a finish," Pippin said. "Frodo, may I load your pipe for you? I understand you've got your own weed here somewhere."

"It is in the pouch on the mantle," Frodo replied. "My pipe's right next to it."

Pippin loaded Frodo's pipe with his medicinal pipeweed, then filled his own with Longbottom Leaf. He lighted Frodo's pipe and got it started for his friend, then passed it over to Frodo. Merry and Sam had already gotten their pipes going. Soon the room was filled with fragrant smoke and the smells of strong brandy, along with much talk and laughter.

The party lasted into the wee hours of the night. Pippin sang several songs, with Merry and Sam joining in the choruses. Pippin's strong tenor had deepened into a lyric baritone since his sudden growth spurt. His excellent singing voice had only improved over time. Frodo liked to sing as well, but now lacked the breath support to do the songs justice. He occasionally supplied Pippin with new lyrics set to old tunes. Sam even contributed some of his original poetry. Sam was actually a good comic poet, with a flair for funny rhymes, but was usually too shy to recite in public. But in the privacy of his own house, with his best friends, and with the help of the brandy, he became quite animated.

As the clock on the mantle struck midnight, Merry and Pippin took their leave. Frodo had started to tire, and they did not want to cause him additional stress. With Sam's support, Frodo walked Merry and Pippin to the door.

"So long, Frodo," Merry said as he put on his cloak, "We'll be seeing you soon. Happy birthday, and thanks for the book." He kissed Frodo goodbye.

"Yesh," Pippin slurred, "it's grand; real grand! Bye Sam. Don't keep Rosie up too late tonight." Pippin winked and planted a sloppy kiss on both Sam and Frodo, much to Sam's displeasure. Merry and Pippin staggered off down the road, laughing and singing arm in arm.

"Sam," Frodo suddenly slumped, "take me inside." Sam helped him hobble into his bedroom, where Frodo sank into a chair.

"What do I need to do?" Sam quietly asked. He knew Frodo was slowly dying and had finally come to accept the inevitable.

Sam had turned over his work with the Shire's replanting to Nibs Cotton, and had vowed to remain at Bag End for as long as Mister Frodo needed him. The Cotton family had also been told of Frodo's condition, and they took over Sam's work at the Bag End Gardens while Sam and Rosie saw to making Frodo's final days as comfortable as possible. It was a private, non-spoken arrangement kept in the family. Frodo never knew.

"I need some help getting out of these clothes," Frodo said. "My left arm has gone off again."

Sam helped his master disrobe and climb into bed. Frodo sighed and drifted into an exhausted sleep almost immediately. Sam gathered the cast-off clothes and put them away. He kissed Frodo's cheek and pulled up the covers before going to his own bedroom.

Rose had fallen asleep reclining against a pile of pillows she used while Elanor nursed. Both mother and child were fast asleep in bed, Elanor's mouth still on her mother's nipple. The room was warm and still, and smelled faintly of milk and roses. This was Sam's life. This was his joy. He picked up his daughter and moved her into her bassinette. He then shed his own clothes and crawled into bed beside his wife. They made love in the dark of the night.
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"Mister Frodo?"

There was a knock on his bedroom door.

"Frodo?"

Frodo opened his eyes, only to be reminded that doing so was an almost useless gesture. "Come in, Sam," his voice croaked.

"Will you be taking breakfast with us?" Sam asked as he entered the bedroom. Frodo was still in bed. It didn't look as if he had moved the entire night. Sam sat in the chair beside the bed.

"No. I think I shall stay in bed today," Frodo replied. "I had a dream, Sam. Only, it did not feel like a dream. It felt so real. I was in Rivendale. Lord Elrond and Gandalf were in Bilbo's room. Bilbo was there in his bed. He was so happy. Galadriel came in and they talked for a little while. Then Bilbo closed his eyes and stopped breathing."

Frodo blinked back unbidden tears. "He is dead, you know. Bilbo died last night after midnight. I felt it as Merry and Pippin were leaving." He wiped away a tear as it rolled down his cheek.

Sam captured Frodo's hand in his. "It were the best, you know. He had a grand adventure and a grand life. He did what he set out to do. He outlived the Old Took. Now the old gent is at peace."

"I will soon join him," Frodo whispered.

Sam didn't know what to say.
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September 23rd

The Elves buried Bilbo Baggins, hobbit of the Shire, Ringbearer, story-teller and Elf-friend, in a small rose garden underneath the window near his former room. Not being acquainted with hobbit burial ceremonies, they made up one as befitting one of such high renown. Songs were sung and poetry recited for several hours. A feast was held in his honor, and as the stars came out, they chanted the entire "Lay of Luthien and Beren One-Hand." It was Bilbo's favorite.

The next day Lord Elrond, the Lady of the Golden Wood, Galadriel, and Gandalf the White set out for the Grey Havens by way of Hobbiton and Bag End. Galadriel had had a vision about Frodo, the Ringbearer. She urged them on with great haste.