Chapter 4
The Funeral
Frodo looked at his reflection in the mirror a few mornings later. His eyes were red and puffy from many days of crying and his skin was paler than usual. His Aunt Esmerelda had helped him dress as he felt still so very weak from the lack of food...he wore black breeches, a white cotton shirt and black suspenders. Black, black, black. The young hobbit sighed miserably before turning away from the mirror and heading towards the window.
From his room he could see where the funeral was being set up for--in a great wooden gazebo strung with flowers. All of the adults that resided in Brandy Hall along with his Uncle Bilbo were aiding with the two small coffins. The weather was overcast but the sun peeked out a little bit through the gray clouds. Frodo jumped when he heard a few soft knocks on his bedroom door. "Come in." he replied. Esmerelda opened the door and he turned to see her in a black silky dress.
"Frodo. It is time." she announced. Frodo nodded and followed his Aunt out into the corridor, ignoring the curious eyes of his many cousins. He got outside and hurried immediately to stand beside Bilbo, who was dabbing at his eyes with a white lace handkerchief. The older hobbit felt a tug on his black waist coat and looked down.
"Hello, my boy."
"Are you all right, Uncle?"
Bilbo nodded. "Just getting a bit misty-eyed." Frodo didn't see a single Baggins besides Bilbo at the funeral--only Brandybucks. Didn't anyone care about his father who was a Baggins? Frodo went up to the gazebo platform where the two coffins sat with their tops open. His parents looked so peaceful, and almost did not look dead. "I know you can not hear me, Mama--Papa." Frodo whispered. "I did not want to come to funearal originally because I was afraid...can you blame me?" he paused, letting a tear roll down his cheek. He grimaced when he heard Bilbo blow his nose...it sounded close to the noise of a foghorn. "But...Aunt Esmerelda told me something...one had to break before one healed. And my heart has broken." Frodo looked at his father's still body, nearly blinded by his tears. "Bilbo is here, Papa." he whispered, glancing back at his Uncle who was sobbing and being comforted by Rorimac Brandybuck. When Frodo could not take it anymore, he hurried down to the lawn and wrapped his Uncle Bilbo in a tight hug while other close relatives of Primula and Drogo Baggins went up to the platform to pay their respects. Frodo hated to see Bilbo cry...his Uncle usually seemed so strong.
"Uncle Bilbo?" Frodo whispered.
"Yes my dear boy?"
"I do not want to be here anymore...at the funeral, I mean. Please-- can we go somewhere else?"
Bilbo smiled gently and lifted his nephew into his arms. "Of course, Frodo. I understand how you must feel." Bilbo carried Frodo away from the commotion and brought the young hobbitlad into the very large garden behind Brandy Hall. He found an empty bench right underneath a blooming Cherry Blossom tree and the two of them took a seat. Though it was nearly summer, the air was a tad cooler than usual. "Bilbo?" asked Frodo, causing the older hobbit to jolt out of his daydream.
"Mmm?"
"What is going to happen to me now that I don't have any parents?"
The boy asked this question so seriously that it surprised Bilbo.
"I would hope that your Aunts and Uncles will look after you."
Frodo frowned. Even when his parents were alive, his Aunts and Uncles hardly paid any attention to him. He wanted to go to Bag-End with Bilbo, but he didn't dare mention the idea. Bilbo seemed to be reading his mind, however, for the next thing he said was: "Oh Frodo...I wish I could take you home with me."
Frood stared at his Uncle before smiling. "You must have read my mind, Uncle Bilbo."
Bilbo laughed. "Of course I can not just take you away. It would have to be discussed with your Uncle Saradoc."
Frodo slid down from Bilbo's lap and gazed at the blooming flowers all around him. The different smells made him feel drousy...they were like perfume. "What are you thinking about, my lad?" Bilbo asked, wiping his suddenly runny nose with his handkerchief. Frodo turned around. "Just remembering." he cocked his head to one side. "You will be staying for a while, won't you?"
Bilbo ruffled Frodo's head of thick curly hair. "My my," he chuckled. "You did miss me, didn't you?"
Frodo nodded. "I like it very much when you come."
"There you two are!" both hobbits turned to see Rorimac coming towards them. "We couldn't find you." He nodded a greeting to Bilbo and then looked at Frodo. "Your Aunt wishes to know if you would like something to eat?"
"Which?" asked Frodo.
"Dora...she is helping to bake honey muffins for the funeral refreshment table."
Frodo shook his head. "No--I'm not really hungry right now."
Rorimac folded his arms. "Now Frodo--enough of this nonsense about not eating. Whether you are hungry or not, you must get food into that flat belly of yours. Do you have a cold?" he asked, seeing Bilbo sniffling.
Bilbo shook his head. "Spring allergies. Nothing to worry about." he looked at Frodo seroiusly. "Listen to Rorimac, Frodo. He is right...even if you get one muffin down it will be an accomplishment."
So Frodo complied and followed his Uncle up to the dining hall where funeral refreshments were being served. As soon as they arrived, Frodo found himself among all of his relatives. His Uncle Dudo and Aunt Dora were laughing about what his father was like when he was younger...Frodo always enjoyed hearing these stories. The funeral party lasted into the late evening and it ended once the stars came out. The adults carried the younger hobbit children to bed, but Frodo stayed awake watching the maids clear the leftover food from the table and take it to the kitchen. Bilbo noticed Frodo standing all by himself in the corner and went to join him. "It is late, dear boy. How about I bring you up to bed?" Frodo reached his arms up in the air and Bilbo lifted him, allowing the lad to lean his head on his shoulder. "Good night, Mr. Baggins." Dora whispered once they reached Frodo's corridor.
Good night."
Bilbo carried Frodo into his room and eased the boy under the covers.
"Will you sit up with me, Uncle?" Frodo whispered once he was tucked in comfortably. "I don't want to be alone."
Bilbo gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Of course."
They were quiet for a moment. "Um...can you sing me a lullaby?"
Bilbo raised an eyebrow. "I suppose..." he cleared his throat before taking Frodo's small hand in his own. "The road goes ever on and on...down from the door where it began...now far ahead th e road has gone...and I must follow it if I can...persuing it with eager feet...where many paths and errands meet..." he stopped when he realized the noise mixed in with his singing was a soft snore from Frodo. Bilbo chuckled. "Good night, my dear Frodo." he planted a kiss on the young hobbits' head before blowing the candle out.
The Funeral
Frodo looked at his reflection in the mirror a few mornings later. His eyes were red and puffy from many days of crying and his skin was paler than usual. His Aunt Esmerelda had helped him dress as he felt still so very weak from the lack of food...he wore black breeches, a white cotton shirt and black suspenders. Black, black, black. The young hobbit sighed miserably before turning away from the mirror and heading towards the window.
From his room he could see where the funeral was being set up for--in a great wooden gazebo strung with flowers. All of the adults that resided in Brandy Hall along with his Uncle Bilbo were aiding with the two small coffins. The weather was overcast but the sun peeked out a little bit through the gray clouds. Frodo jumped when he heard a few soft knocks on his bedroom door. "Come in." he replied. Esmerelda opened the door and he turned to see her in a black silky dress.
"Frodo. It is time." she announced. Frodo nodded and followed his Aunt out into the corridor, ignoring the curious eyes of his many cousins. He got outside and hurried immediately to stand beside Bilbo, who was dabbing at his eyes with a white lace handkerchief. The older hobbit felt a tug on his black waist coat and looked down.
"Hello, my boy."
"Are you all right, Uncle?"
Bilbo nodded. "Just getting a bit misty-eyed." Frodo didn't see a single Baggins besides Bilbo at the funeral--only Brandybucks. Didn't anyone care about his father who was a Baggins? Frodo went up to the gazebo platform where the two coffins sat with their tops open. His parents looked so peaceful, and almost did not look dead. "I know you can not hear me, Mama--Papa." Frodo whispered. "I did not want to come to funearal originally because I was afraid...can you blame me?" he paused, letting a tear roll down his cheek. He grimaced when he heard Bilbo blow his nose...it sounded close to the noise of a foghorn. "But...Aunt Esmerelda told me something...one had to break before one healed. And my heart has broken." Frodo looked at his father's still body, nearly blinded by his tears. "Bilbo is here, Papa." he whispered, glancing back at his Uncle who was sobbing and being comforted by Rorimac Brandybuck. When Frodo could not take it anymore, he hurried down to the lawn and wrapped his Uncle Bilbo in a tight hug while other close relatives of Primula and Drogo Baggins went up to the platform to pay their respects. Frodo hated to see Bilbo cry...his Uncle usually seemed so strong.
"Uncle Bilbo?" Frodo whispered.
"Yes my dear boy?"
"I do not want to be here anymore...at the funeral, I mean. Please-- can we go somewhere else?"
Bilbo smiled gently and lifted his nephew into his arms. "Of course, Frodo. I understand how you must feel." Bilbo carried Frodo away from the commotion and brought the young hobbitlad into the very large garden behind Brandy Hall. He found an empty bench right underneath a blooming Cherry Blossom tree and the two of them took a seat. Though it was nearly summer, the air was a tad cooler than usual. "Bilbo?" asked Frodo, causing the older hobbit to jolt out of his daydream.
"Mmm?"
"What is going to happen to me now that I don't have any parents?"
The boy asked this question so seriously that it surprised Bilbo.
"I would hope that your Aunts and Uncles will look after you."
Frodo frowned. Even when his parents were alive, his Aunts and Uncles hardly paid any attention to him. He wanted to go to Bag-End with Bilbo, but he didn't dare mention the idea. Bilbo seemed to be reading his mind, however, for the next thing he said was: "Oh Frodo...I wish I could take you home with me."
Frood stared at his Uncle before smiling. "You must have read my mind, Uncle Bilbo."
Bilbo laughed. "Of course I can not just take you away. It would have to be discussed with your Uncle Saradoc."
Frodo slid down from Bilbo's lap and gazed at the blooming flowers all around him. The different smells made him feel drousy...they were like perfume. "What are you thinking about, my lad?" Bilbo asked, wiping his suddenly runny nose with his handkerchief. Frodo turned around. "Just remembering." he cocked his head to one side. "You will be staying for a while, won't you?"
Bilbo ruffled Frodo's head of thick curly hair. "My my," he chuckled. "You did miss me, didn't you?"
Frodo nodded. "I like it very much when you come."
"There you two are!" both hobbits turned to see Rorimac coming towards them. "We couldn't find you." He nodded a greeting to Bilbo and then looked at Frodo. "Your Aunt wishes to know if you would like something to eat?"
"Which?" asked Frodo.
"Dora...she is helping to bake honey muffins for the funeral refreshment table."
Frodo shook his head. "No--I'm not really hungry right now."
Rorimac folded his arms. "Now Frodo--enough of this nonsense about not eating. Whether you are hungry or not, you must get food into that flat belly of yours. Do you have a cold?" he asked, seeing Bilbo sniffling.
Bilbo shook his head. "Spring allergies. Nothing to worry about." he looked at Frodo seroiusly. "Listen to Rorimac, Frodo. He is right...even if you get one muffin down it will be an accomplishment."
So Frodo complied and followed his Uncle up to the dining hall where funeral refreshments were being served. As soon as they arrived, Frodo found himself among all of his relatives. His Uncle Dudo and Aunt Dora were laughing about what his father was like when he was younger...Frodo always enjoyed hearing these stories. The funeral party lasted into the late evening and it ended once the stars came out. The adults carried the younger hobbit children to bed, but Frodo stayed awake watching the maids clear the leftover food from the table and take it to the kitchen. Bilbo noticed Frodo standing all by himself in the corner and went to join him. "It is late, dear boy. How about I bring you up to bed?" Frodo reached his arms up in the air and Bilbo lifted him, allowing the lad to lean his head on his shoulder. "Good night, Mr. Baggins." Dora whispered once they reached Frodo's corridor.
Good night."
Bilbo carried Frodo into his room and eased the boy under the covers.
"Will you sit up with me, Uncle?" Frodo whispered once he was tucked in comfortably. "I don't want to be alone."
Bilbo gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Of course."
They were quiet for a moment. "Um...can you sing me a lullaby?"
Bilbo raised an eyebrow. "I suppose..." he cleared his throat before taking Frodo's small hand in his own. "The road goes ever on and on...down from the door where it began...now far ahead th e road has gone...and I must follow it if I can...persuing it with eager feet...where many paths and errands meet..." he stopped when he realized the noise mixed in with his singing was a soft snore from Frodo. Bilbo chuckled. "Good night, my dear Frodo." he planted a kiss on the young hobbits' head before blowing the candle out.