Chapter 15
Frodo waved a last goodbye to the pony cart carrying Merry and Esmerelda back to Buckland. He heaved a big sigh. "Merry is hard work."
Bilbo grinned behind his cousin's back. "Do you want to sit out here a while longer, or come back in?"
"Can I stay out a while please?" Frodo asked. "It is quite warm still."
"Of course, my lad," Bilbo kissed the curly head and left Frodo to sit on the front garden bench overlooking the Party Field while he went back into the kitchen. The pantries at Bag End were sadly depleted now, with their visitors taking most of the supplies away inside them, and Bilbo wanted to get a patch of baking underway as soon as possible. They hardly had enough cakes or pies to see them through till next week. The breadbasket was in a sorry state, with only three crusty loaves and two dozen cinnamon rolls left. Bilbo went to look on the meat pie shelf and tutted to himself, only two chicken and three beef pies left. If he didn't get cooking soon they would starve!
Soon a delicious aroma of cooking reached Frodo as he sat on the bench with a cushion behind his back and watched a humblebee busy at work in the snapdragons. The orange and black striped workman reminded him of something. On cue Smaug bounded into view and stuck his nose with unerring accuracy exactly where it should not be. The bee buzzed furiously at behind disturbed in its work and Smaug took a step back.
"Leave him alone," Frodo warned his pet, wagging his finger at the mischievous little animal. Fortunately, Smaug's interest was caught by a long blade of grass that was clearly challenging his authority and he bounded over to battle it into submission.
*****
Autumn seemed to be making its appearance earlier this year. There was an indefinable something in the air which made Frodo a little sad. The flowers were looking rather jaded in the flowerbeds and there was wood smoke in the air rather than the scent of blossom.
He had been sitting up for too long and his back was starting to ache. His legs felt funny too; twitchy, as though they wanted to move but had forgotten how. He wriggled his toes a little. 'Patience,' he reminded himself.
"Here lad, try this," Bilbo appeared with a cheese topped crusty bread roll straight from the oven. Frodo took the napkin wrapped roll and felt the warmth through the cloth. The cheese was still melting over it, all golden yellow. Smaug was on Frodo's lap in a moment, his little nose sniffing in interest. Bilbo grabbed the kitten and sat by Frodo's side as the younger hobbit blew on the bread to cool it enough to eat.
When the roll was demolished to satisfied noises from Frodo, and Smaug had licked the cheese off his fingers with his rough little tongue, Frodo leaned his head against Bilbo's shoulder.
"Tired my boy?" the elder hobbit asked.
"A little," Frodo admitted. "It suddenly seems to be getting colder."
"The Gaffer was bringing in the last of the plums this morning. We will have a pantry full of apples soon as well."
"What happens in Hobbiton during the winter?" Frodo wanted to know.
"Much the same as happens in Buckland. We stock the larders and the wood piles and snuggle up till spring."
Frodo chuckled. "You make us sound like squirrels sleeping all winter."
"In a big soft bed, with big fluffy pillows, and lots of quilts."
Frodo yawned and it was Bilbo's turn to chuckle. "Come on Frodo-me-lad. Lets tuck you up for a nap and then you can sample the rest of my cooking for tea."
Bilbo picked Frodo up - glad, not for the first time, that the lad was rather slight for his age, even before his illness had taken some weight off. The curly head nestled under his chin as Frodo wound his arms round his cousin's neck.
As if seeming to read Bilbo's mind Frodo asked, "What will we do when I am too big to carry?"
"Never fear, by then you will be back on your own two legs. We will have you tramping all over Middle Earth before long."
Bilbo carried his precious cargo into his bedroom and settled him on the bed. He helped Frodo to get into a nightshirt and then pulled the quilts up around him and tucked them in firmly under the little chin. Smaug bounced up onto the bed and Frodo lifted an edge of the quilt so the little creature could burrow down under it. Bilbo tried to look disapproving but had not the heart to. The kitten settled himself over one of Frodo's furred feet and started purring like a thunderstorm.
"How do you sleep with that racket going on?" Bilbo kissed the smooth forehead and watched Frodo yawn cavernously. Blue eyes were already drifting closed. "Sleep well my boy."
Bilbo made his way into the kitchen to check on the baking. He took out one patch of pies and cakes to cool on the table before putting in a second lot. There were also plumb preserves to be made. He would have to be extra careful with his 'special' batch this year - liberally flavoured with Old Winyards. It would not do to have Frodo getting his fingers into the wine spiced jam.
Bilbo hummed happily to himself as he sorted through a pile of clothing to be taken to the laundry. Among his own things were a collection of smaller shirts and nightshirts. "Bilbo Baggins," he told himself as he shook out a pair of Frodo's breaches which had been turned carelessly inside out when taken off, "You are turning into quite the mother hen." And, he admitted to himself, he rather liked it. There was something satisfying in taking care of Frodo, in providing the love that the lad had missed since his parent's death. Something that filled a hole in his own heart - a hole that he had not, until his nephew started coming to visit, even realised was there. Maybe he was being selfish in not wanting to part from his cousin, but he intended that Frodo should have the best of everything. Including the best love and care a guardian could provide.
Frodo waved a last goodbye to the pony cart carrying Merry and Esmerelda back to Buckland. He heaved a big sigh. "Merry is hard work."
Bilbo grinned behind his cousin's back. "Do you want to sit out here a while longer, or come back in?"
"Can I stay out a while please?" Frodo asked. "It is quite warm still."
"Of course, my lad," Bilbo kissed the curly head and left Frodo to sit on the front garden bench overlooking the Party Field while he went back into the kitchen. The pantries at Bag End were sadly depleted now, with their visitors taking most of the supplies away inside them, and Bilbo wanted to get a patch of baking underway as soon as possible. They hardly had enough cakes or pies to see them through till next week. The breadbasket was in a sorry state, with only three crusty loaves and two dozen cinnamon rolls left. Bilbo went to look on the meat pie shelf and tutted to himself, only two chicken and three beef pies left. If he didn't get cooking soon they would starve!
Soon a delicious aroma of cooking reached Frodo as he sat on the bench with a cushion behind his back and watched a humblebee busy at work in the snapdragons. The orange and black striped workman reminded him of something. On cue Smaug bounded into view and stuck his nose with unerring accuracy exactly where it should not be. The bee buzzed furiously at behind disturbed in its work and Smaug took a step back.
"Leave him alone," Frodo warned his pet, wagging his finger at the mischievous little animal. Fortunately, Smaug's interest was caught by a long blade of grass that was clearly challenging his authority and he bounded over to battle it into submission.
*****
Autumn seemed to be making its appearance earlier this year. There was an indefinable something in the air which made Frodo a little sad. The flowers were looking rather jaded in the flowerbeds and there was wood smoke in the air rather than the scent of blossom.
He had been sitting up for too long and his back was starting to ache. His legs felt funny too; twitchy, as though they wanted to move but had forgotten how. He wriggled his toes a little. 'Patience,' he reminded himself.
"Here lad, try this," Bilbo appeared with a cheese topped crusty bread roll straight from the oven. Frodo took the napkin wrapped roll and felt the warmth through the cloth. The cheese was still melting over it, all golden yellow. Smaug was on Frodo's lap in a moment, his little nose sniffing in interest. Bilbo grabbed the kitten and sat by Frodo's side as the younger hobbit blew on the bread to cool it enough to eat.
When the roll was demolished to satisfied noises from Frodo, and Smaug had licked the cheese off his fingers with his rough little tongue, Frodo leaned his head against Bilbo's shoulder.
"Tired my boy?" the elder hobbit asked.
"A little," Frodo admitted. "It suddenly seems to be getting colder."
"The Gaffer was bringing in the last of the plums this morning. We will have a pantry full of apples soon as well."
"What happens in Hobbiton during the winter?" Frodo wanted to know.
"Much the same as happens in Buckland. We stock the larders and the wood piles and snuggle up till spring."
Frodo chuckled. "You make us sound like squirrels sleeping all winter."
"In a big soft bed, with big fluffy pillows, and lots of quilts."
Frodo yawned and it was Bilbo's turn to chuckle. "Come on Frodo-me-lad. Lets tuck you up for a nap and then you can sample the rest of my cooking for tea."
Bilbo picked Frodo up - glad, not for the first time, that the lad was rather slight for his age, even before his illness had taken some weight off. The curly head nestled under his chin as Frodo wound his arms round his cousin's neck.
As if seeming to read Bilbo's mind Frodo asked, "What will we do when I am too big to carry?"
"Never fear, by then you will be back on your own two legs. We will have you tramping all over Middle Earth before long."
Bilbo carried his precious cargo into his bedroom and settled him on the bed. He helped Frodo to get into a nightshirt and then pulled the quilts up around him and tucked them in firmly under the little chin. Smaug bounced up onto the bed and Frodo lifted an edge of the quilt so the little creature could burrow down under it. Bilbo tried to look disapproving but had not the heart to. The kitten settled himself over one of Frodo's furred feet and started purring like a thunderstorm.
"How do you sleep with that racket going on?" Bilbo kissed the smooth forehead and watched Frodo yawn cavernously. Blue eyes were already drifting closed. "Sleep well my boy."
Bilbo made his way into the kitchen to check on the baking. He took out one patch of pies and cakes to cool on the table before putting in a second lot. There were also plumb preserves to be made. He would have to be extra careful with his 'special' batch this year - liberally flavoured with Old Winyards. It would not do to have Frodo getting his fingers into the wine spiced jam.
Bilbo hummed happily to himself as he sorted through a pile of clothing to be taken to the laundry. Among his own things were a collection of smaller shirts and nightshirts. "Bilbo Baggins," he told himself as he shook out a pair of Frodo's breaches which had been turned carelessly inside out when taken off, "You are turning into quite the mother hen." And, he admitted to himself, he rather liked it. There was something satisfying in taking care of Frodo, in providing the love that the lad had missed since his parent's death. Something that filled a hole in his own heart - a hole that he had not, until his nephew started coming to visit, even realised was there. Maybe he was being selfish in not wanting to part from his cousin, but he intended that Frodo should have the best of everything. Including the best love and care a guardian could provide.