CHAPTER 5
As luck would have it, when Bilbo returned to Bag End he found Frodo at home. Not only was his nephew at home, but he was cooking tea. Bilbo's nose twitched at the delicious smell of mushrooms.
"Frodo. What a lovely surprise. What have you cooked up for us?"
The younger hobbit beamed. "Mushrooms, creamed with a little onion, on toast. I hope you like mushrooms, Bilbo."
"I've yet to meet a mushroom I didn't like, my lad. And if my stomach doesn't get to say hello to these soon I shall faint clean away."
When he had a mind to let it loose, Frodo had the brightest, purest laugh Bilbo had ever heard and he honoured Bilbo with a merry peel of it as his uncle sat down at the kitchen table.
When they had finished the mushrooms, the last of the scones from the previous day's baking, some bread and jam, a small cherry pie and some seed cake Bilbo loaded his pipe and settled back, while Frodo took care of the washing up.
"My, my, Frodo. That was a good tea. I didn't even know we had any mushrooms. When did we buy them? I'm sure I can't remember. Maybe I'm getting forgetful as I get older."
"Er….I don't remember you buying them, Bilbo, dear. They were rather nice ones though."
Something in the way the young lad worded his reply set alarm bells ringing in Bilbo's head but just as he was about to pursue the matter he was interrupted by a knock at the door. Now who could that be? When he opened it he was confronted by a tight lipped Hugo Brownlock. "Good evening, Farmer Brownlock. What brings you to Bag End?" asked Bilbo, pleasantly.
Hugo did not smile. "I understand you've your nephew, Frodo, livin' with you now. Is he at home?"
The alarm bells in Bilbo's head began to ring more loudly. "Yes, he is. We have just finished eating but I am sure we could find you a bite to eat and a cup of tea. Won't you come in?"
"I'll take you up on the offer to come in but I recon I'd better hold up on the tea until you've heard what I've come about." He followed Bilbo down the hall to the kitchen. "Is that mushrooms I smell?" asked Farmer Brownlock.
"Why, yes it is. Frodo has just cooked us some. I'm afraid we ate them all, though, didn't we, lad?" The last question was spoken to Frodo, who was just about to exit through the back door. He took a deep breath and turned to face the two older hobbits.
"Yes, Bilbo."
Bilbo was confused. Farmer Brownlock was staring hard at Frodo, his lips clenched in a thin line of anger. Frodo, on the other hand, was studying the floor tiles intently and shuffling uneasily from one foot to the other. Bilbo folded his arms. "Would one of you care to tell me what this is all about?"
It was Hugo that broke the silence. "As you know, Mr Baggins, I grow some of the best mushrooms this side of Hobbiton, though I say so myself, as shouldn't, you may say. I'm used to keepin' an eye out for young hobbits helpin' themselves to the odd one or two. And I don't mind one or two, but I get a bit angry when they start helpin' themselves to a basket full. I get my own young 'uns to watch over the fields when they're able." He waited a moment, still staring at Frodo, who would not meet his gaze and was now blushing furiously. The alarm bells in Bilbo's head were joined by a growling in his stomach as he suddenly developed problems digesting his creamed mushrooms. When Frodo made no sound Hugo continued.
"Well, this afternoon my Marigold was walking by the field when she spied a strange young hobbit that she'd not seen before. He was picking mushrooms, a lot of mushrooms, mind you. She ran home as fast as she could to tell me but by the time I got there the culprit had gone. She described him well enough that I suspect I know by his fancy waistcoat who he is but I'd like to hear him own up himself."
Frodo finally raised his head. At first his face was defiant and Bilbo thought he would deny the act, but then he swallowed and his expression changed. "I'm sorry, Farmer Brownlock. It was me. I wanted to surprise Bilbo and I didn't have any money to offer you for the mushrooms."
He hung his head again and Bilbo saw a large tear splash on the tiles at the lad's feet. For a moment, the older hobbit wanted to pull Frodo to him in a hug, but then he remembered Bel's warning. Frodo had done something wrong and Hugo was missing a large part of the profit from his field of mushrooms.
"I'm glad you owned up to the theft, lad," said Hugo. "But if everyone went around takin' what they felt like, without payin' or askin' the world would be a very sorry place. Your sorry wont put clothes on my growin' lasses and lads."
"You are quite right, Farmer Brownlock" added Bilbo. "I shall pay you for the mushrooms, of course. But I think that Frodo should make amends too."
"I thank you for your offer of payment, Mr Baggins but I think that if Master Frodo will make amends that will do for me. I'll not exact payment twice. That wouldn't be proper."
Bilbo smiled to himself. He knew that Hugo really did need the money to feed his over large family but suspected that, like the Gaffer, he would not accept it. "That's very kind of you. What do you suggest would be fair payment?"
"Well, lookin' at the bare patch in my field, I think a days wage for a farm labourer would cover it." He looked at Bilbo, expectantly.
"So, Frodo. It looks as though you are to be a labourer for a day at Deep Coomb Farm. Perhaps, if you see how much hard work goes in to the growing of mushrooms, you will feel more inclined to pay for your next batch." It hurt Bilbo to speak so to his obviously contrite nephew but the lesson had to be learned.
Frodo looked up again and finally managed to meet Farmer Brownlock's eye. "Yes, Uncle. When would you like me to come, Mr Brownlock?"
"I don't believe in lettin' these things lay too long. That's no good for anyone. The sooner you get it done the sooner we can put it behind us and start new. Would tomorrow suit?"
Frodo looked at Bilbo for confirmation and his uncle nodded. "Yes, sir. Tomorrow will do well. I shall be there at nine o'clock."
Hugo laughed. "Lesson number one, lad. Farmers get up with the sun, if not before. You'll be there at five o'clock and you'll work 'till sundown."
Frodo paled but nodded. "I'll be there."
Hugo nodded in approval. "Well, I'd best be off. The cows need milking and my missus will be worritin'."
Bilbo saw him to the door, thanking him for giving Frodo the opportunity to set things right. Farmer Brownlock winked, conspiratorially. "Between you, me an' the gate post, Mr Baggins, I got in a few scrapes myself when I were a lad. An' don't you worritt about this getting' about. My Marigold won't go tellin' what she saw." With that he shook Bilbo's hand and left.
Bilbo turned, just in time to see Frodo run from the kitchen to the indoor privy, from where Bilbo shortly heard the sounds of retching. He sighed and headed off to the kitchen to make some mint tea to settle the lad's stomach. He could do with some himself. How on earth Bel and the Gaffer had managed to bring up six he could not imagine.
A few minutes later, Bilbo heard his nephew's soft step moving down the hall to his room.
"Frodo. Come in here, please." The footsteps paused for what seemed like a long time, and then resumed. Frodo entered the kitchen, rather sheepishly. He looked very pale and shaky and his luxuriant dark brown curls were stuck to his forehead with perspiration.
Once again, Bilbo wanted to pull him in to a hug. He looked so pitiful. "You'd best come and sit down, before you fall down, lad." Frodo complied and his uncle passed him a steaming cup of mint tea. "Drink that down."
The younger hobbit eyed it and swallowed hard. "I don't think I can, Uncle Bilbo." His bottom lip was quivering and Bilbo saw him shudder.
"It will settle your stomach. Come on now. No nonsense."
Frodo picked up the cup, having to hold it in both hands to prevent the tea from spilling, and sipped slowly. After a couple of mouthfuls he had to admit that his stomach did feel a bit better. "Thank you, Uncle Bilbo."
Bilbo was sad to hear that he was once more 'Uncle Bilbo' instead of 'Bilbo'. "What am I going to do with you, Frodo, my lad?"
He did not think it possible but his nephew's face grew even paler. "Please, don't send me back to Brandy Hall, Uncle." His voice rose and his face began to crumple. "I didn't mean to cause you so much trouble."
Tears spilled over and down Frodo's face and Bilbo could stand it no longer. Within a heart beat he came around the table and sat down next to the sobbing tweenager, hugging him close and rubbing his back.
"There, there now. Don't fret so. I wont do that to you, but I don't know what I am going to do with you………Come on, now…………Ssssshhhhhhhh……..It's all right, lad. I'm not cross with you anymore…….just disappointed." The sobs continued, however and Bilbo tried to get him to drink some more of the mint tea.
"What made you do it, lad?" He still kept his arm around his nephew and Frodo leaned his head against his uncle's shoulder, trying to sip his tea, in an attempt to please the older hobbit.
"I thought you were disappointed in me. I can't read elvish, I can't cook and I keep interrupting you when you're trying to work. I try to stay out of your way as much as I can but I get lonely." As he spoke the tears increased and Bilbo pulled him closer.
"I wanted to please you and show you how much better I had become, but I didn't have any money to buy the mushrooms." He sobbed. "The field was so big that I didn't think the farmer would mind me taking a few." Frodo buried his face in his uncle's waistcoat in despair, his tears darkening the fine burgundy brocade.
"Oh, Frodo. You're not a disappointment to me. Far from it. I love you as though you were my own and nothing you do could make me love you any more or less." His hand moved in circles on Frodo's back, in an attempt to soothe the overwrought tweenager but it did not seem to be working very well and, having no experience in such matters, he was becoming a little concerned.
"But you…….j…..just said that you……..w…….were disappointed," wailed the lad, becoming more and more agitated.
Bilbo's heart flopped queasily. He had, indeed, said just that and he was beginning to discover how a carelessly chosen word could damage a young mind. "Only for this one mistake. And then, only because I had not heard your reason. I'm sorry if I hurt you by saying that. Come on, now. Stop crying. I'm not going to send you away……….Ssshhhhhh."
Frodo had set down the remainder of his tea and was now leaning helplessly against his uncle, the sobs so deep that Bilbo almost had to support him to stop him falling off the bench. The older hobbit decided that if he did not get the lad to calm down soon he would likely pass out for he was starting to breathe rather too rapidly.
Standing up, he slipped an arm under Frodo's knees and put the other around his back. "Put your arms around my neck, Frodo. Your Uncle is going to carry you to your room. I think you need to lie down for a little while."
Feeling too wretched to protest, Frodo allowed himself to be carried to his bed. Bilbo loosened his nephew's clothing and pulled the bed covers over the still sobbing form. He drew the curtains to dim the room, pulled up a chair and took one of the lad's hands in his, rubbing it gently with his thumb and trying to soothe him with the low sound of his voice.
"There, now, Frodo………it's alright………..shhhhhhhhhhhhh…………try to go to sleep and your Uncle Bilbo will stay with you………Don't worry……."
Worn out by his emotions, Frodo finally began to drowse. The sobs subsided, the tears dried and his eyelids began to droop, although for a long time he fought to keep them open and check that Bilbo was still there. Once or twice Bilbo tried to leave but then his nephew would whimper in his sleep and grope for the reassuring touch. Eventually, Bilbo reconciled himself to the fact that he would probably be at the bedside for several more hours and settled himself back in the chair, his hand in Frodo's.
All that evening he berated himself for what he saw as his insensitive blindness. How could an old bachelor like himself take on the rearing of such a young lad? And so highly strung, too. He smoothed back the soft dark curls from Frodo's forehead. And yet, who else was there to look after him? There had been aunts and uncles aplenty at Brandy Hall; all with much more experience at bringing up children than he and yet, even they had not been able to give Frodo the individual attention that he particularly needed. Bilbo looked down at the small hand that clung to his so tightly, even in sleep. Frodo needed a firm anchor and Bilbo was the only person available so Bilbo would have to learn to give up some of his pleasures to concentrate on the lad. It was a tall order for someone used to considering only his own needs for most of his adult life.
Bilbo smiled to himself. So this was what parents meant when they said that they would die for their children. To be a parent he would have to die to his own life and hand it over to Frodo. It was a little frightening, but then his eyes came to rest on the pale, tear swollen, face before him and he found it was not such a difficult choice after all.