Chapter 7
"Frodo my lad-hurry up!" Bilbo called to his nephew from the front hallway around 9:30 that night. The night promised to be perfectly clear and they would have a lovely time hiking under the stars. Frodo rushed to meet Bilbo, quickly buttoning the last button of his shirt as he did so.
"Sorry, Uncle Bilbo. I'm a bit slow today."
Bilbo ruffled Frodo's dark curls with a chuckle. "Nonsense. You have a right to be, cricket. Now do you have everything you need in these packs?"
Frodo nodded. "Extra clothes, hairbrush, canteen, some food and a bunch of pocket handkerchiefs."
"Good. Let's go, then, shall we? We don't want to waste the night away chatting in the hall." Bilbo opened the large green door and stepped outside into the cool but stuffy night air. The smell from the flowers was overwhelming, even in the dark and Frodo had to fight the urge to sneeze if he wanted to continue the hike. Once the door was shut again and locked, the two cousins headed out through the main gate and turned left down the dirt path. For almost ten minutes neither of them spoke, but they did not need to.
"Listen to those crickets," Frodo whispered. "It's so peaceful out here."
Bilbo smiled. "Yes it is, my boy."
"Was it this nice when you went on that adventure? At night I mean?"
"Not all the time. Certain nights it rained buckets and the dwarves and I had to fight just to stay properly dry. But yes, certain nights it was rather beautiful."
They began to cross a large field that rose and fell with hills. When Frodo started to lag behind, Bilbo would stop and turn and wait patiently for his nephew to catch up. "Having a bit of trouble breathing, Uncle." Frodo gasped.
"Just walk slowly then, and to relax your muscles," Bilbo encouraged. But when he heard Frodo's wheezing, he decided to take a break and sit down to let the tweenager rest a bit. "We'll just sit here for a few moments, lad, till you're breathing easier." They were standing on the middle of the bridge that faced the Green Dragon Inn and sat down on the edge of it. Taking a gulp of air, Frodo leaned his head against Bilbo's shoulder, feeling so desparately tired.
"M' sorry, Bilbo." Frodo apologized quietly. "Stupid allergies. Why does all of the bad stuff have to happen to me?"
Bilbo gave Frodo a big hug. "Not all bad things happen to you, Frodo."
"B-but I'm always getting sick. I don't see Merry or Pippin getting as ill as I do."
"You do seem to have a rather rough time with illnesses, lad, but you are tough at the core. Now come on-let's continue. We only have a good half hour walk till we reach our camping site and them I'm sure you want to listen to campfire tales and roast marshmallows?"
Frodo grinned. "Can you carry me, Uncle? For a bit of the way?"
"I suppose." Bilbo lifted the tweenager into his arms and they crossed the bridge to the other side. Frodo leaned against Bilbo's shoulder and watched as fireflies blinked on and off throughout the grass. Frodo had a hard time believing that he slept through all of this on a regular basis, and almost wished he could play outside at night rather than during the day. But then again, at Brandy Hall he had been frightened by stories of dangerous beasts that romped through the Shire in the darkness from his older cousins. He never forgot the time Mellilot dressed up as a wolf and scared the living daylights out of him when he had been sitting in the yard on Midsummer's eve. Mellilot had been punished for doing so, though.
"Penny for your thoughts, Frodo." Bilbo chuckled.
"Huh?" Frodo asked as the old hobbit finally set him back down on the ground.
"You were awfully quiet. Either you had fallen asleep on me or you were in deep thinking."
Frodo smiled. "Nothing-just thinking about the dark."
"The dark, eh? Not afraid, are you?" Bilbo asked with concern.
"No. I mean-I was when I was younger, but now that I'm with you- things don't seem so scary anymore."
Bilbo nearly choked on tears. Suddenly, without warning, the ground gave way to an unexpected hill and he let out a cry.
"BILBO!" Frodo shouted, watching as his Uncle hit the ground, a sickening CRACK filling the air. "BILBO!" Frodo found his footing and made his way down to his Uncle, who lay on his side, his one arm reaching for his leg.
"Frodo." Bilbo gasped. "I think I've broken something." He struggled to sit up but grimaced and had to lay back down again. Frodo knelt down in the mud and grime and saw that the leg Bilbo had been reaching for was twisted in a very strange ankle, and immediately felt a wave of nausea go over him.
"You're hurt. Oh Bilbo-I'm so sorry."
Bilbo smiled weakly up at his nephew. "You have to get help, lad. Run to the nearest smial."
"But I can't," Frodo sobbed.
"Frodo-don't be afraid. I'll be all right here, I promise. Just go- now."
Without a second thought, Frodo quickly scrambled up the hill and hurried for the nearest hobbit hole. About halfway there, he felt his lungs start to tighten and his nose clog up. "Can't-make it." He said, falling to his knees. Then a voice spoke inside of his head.
'Your Uncle needs you, Frodo. Don't give up now. You can do it.'
That seemed to encourage the tweenager, who got to his feet again, but still felt incredibly weak. He reached the first homely house and raised a fist, prepared to knock on the door.
"Frodo my lad-hurry up!" Bilbo called to his nephew from the front hallway around 9:30 that night. The night promised to be perfectly clear and they would have a lovely time hiking under the stars. Frodo rushed to meet Bilbo, quickly buttoning the last button of his shirt as he did so.
"Sorry, Uncle Bilbo. I'm a bit slow today."
Bilbo ruffled Frodo's dark curls with a chuckle. "Nonsense. You have a right to be, cricket. Now do you have everything you need in these packs?"
Frodo nodded. "Extra clothes, hairbrush, canteen, some food and a bunch of pocket handkerchiefs."
"Good. Let's go, then, shall we? We don't want to waste the night away chatting in the hall." Bilbo opened the large green door and stepped outside into the cool but stuffy night air. The smell from the flowers was overwhelming, even in the dark and Frodo had to fight the urge to sneeze if he wanted to continue the hike. Once the door was shut again and locked, the two cousins headed out through the main gate and turned left down the dirt path. For almost ten minutes neither of them spoke, but they did not need to.
"Listen to those crickets," Frodo whispered. "It's so peaceful out here."
Bilbo smiled. "Yes it is, my boy."
"Was it this nice when you went on that adventure? At night I mean?"
"Not all the time. Certain nights it rained buckets and the dwarves and I had to fight just to stay properly dry. But yes, certain nights it was rather beautiful."
They began to cross a large field that rose and fell with hills. When Frodo started to lag behind, Bilbo would stop and turn and wait patiently for his nephew to catch up. "Having a bit of trouble breathing, Uncle." Frodo gasped.
"Just walk slowly then, and to relax your muscles," Bilbo encouraged. But when he heard Frodo's wheezing, he decided to take a break and sit down to let the tweenager rest a bit. "We'll just sit here for a few moments, lad, till you're breathing easier." They were standing on the middle of the bridge that faced the Green Dragon Inn and sat down on the edge of it. Taking a gulp of air, Frodo leaned his head against Bilbo's shoulder, feeling so desparately tired.
"M' sorry, Bilbo." Frodo apologized quietly. "Stupid allergies. Why does all of the bad stuff have to happen to me?"
Bilbo gave Frodo a big hug. "Not all bad things happen to you, Frodo."
"B-but I'm always getting sick. I don't see Merry or Pippin getting as ill as I do."
"You do seem to have a rather rough time with illnesses, lad, but you are tough at the core. Now come on-let's continue. We only have a good half hour walk till we reach our camping site and them I'm sure you want to listen to campfire tales and roast marshmallows?"
Frodo grinned. "Can you carry me, Uncle? For a bit of the way?"
"I suppose." Bilbo lifted the tweenager into his arms and they crossed the bridge to the other side. Frodo leaned against Bilbo's shoulder and watched as fireflies blinked on and off throughout the grass. Frodo had a hard time believing that he slept through all of this on a regular basis, and almost wished he could play outside at night rather than during the day. But then again, at Brandy Hall he had been frightened by stories of dangerous beasts that romped through the Shire in the darkness from his older cousins. He never forgot the time Mellilot dressed up as a wolf and scared the living daylights out of him when he had been sitting in the yard on Midsummer's eve. Mellilot had been punished for doing so, though.
"Penny for your thoughts, Frodo." Bilbo chuckled.
"Huh?" Frodo asked as the old hobbit finally set him back down on the ground.
"You were awfully quiet. Either you had fallen asleep on me or you were in deep thinking."
Frodo smiled. "Nothing-just thinking about the dark."
"The dark, eh? Not afraid, are you?" Bilbo asked with concern.
"No. I mean-I was when I was younger, but now that I'm with you- things don't seem so scary anymore."
Bilbo nearly choked on tears. Suddenly, without warning, the ground gave way to an unexpected hill and he let out a cry.
"BILBO!" Frodo shouted, watching as his Uncle hit the ground, a sickening CRACK filling the air. "BILBO!" Frodo found his footing and made his way down to his Uncle, who lay on his side, his one arm reaching for his leg.
"Frodo." Bilbo gasped. "I think I've broken something." He struggled to sit up but grimaced and had to lay back down again. Frodo knelt down in the mud and grime and saw that the leg Bilbo had been reaching for was twisted in a very strange ankle, and immediately felt a wave of nausea go over him.
"You're hurt. Oh Bilbo-I'm so sorry."
Bilbo smiled weakly up at his nephew. "You have to get help, lad. Run to the nearest smial."
"But I can't," Frodo sobbed.
"Frodo-don't be afraid. I'll be all right here, I promise. Just go- now."
Without a second thought, Frodo quickly scrambled up the hill and hurried for the nearest hobbit hole. About halfway there, he felt his lungs start to tighten and his nose clog up. "Can't-make it." He said, falling to his knees. Then a voice spoke inside of his head.
'Your Uncle needs you, Frodo. Don't give up now. You can do it.'
That seemed to encourage the tweenager, who got to his feet again, but still felt incredibly weak. He reached the first homely house and raised a fist, prepared to knock on the door.