I considered taking this story further but my original intention was to show Frodo getting some measure of healing through the birth of a son and I think I've achieved that. I hope you've enjoyed reading. Maybe one day I'll write some further scenes of Calimore growing up, but not at the moment.

Thank you very much to those of you who took the time to read and especially those who left a review. I was worried about posting this tale because of the subject matter but I'm gratified by the way it has been received.

Chapter 26

Frodo laid Calimore in his lap as he fastened his shirt, sighing as he listened to the babe's restless wails. He began to rock too and fro in the chair, gently rubbing the tiny back, glancing up only briefly as Elrond settled on a larger chair at the other side of the nursery hearth, a small bowl of what looked like applesauce and a spoon in his hand.

Summer seemed to come early this year and Frodo wondered whether it was special or whether it was always the case in Rivendell. But for whatever reason, he welcomed it and the windows were open to let in the sound of waterfall and birdsong. Unfortunately, Frodo had heard little of both this morning, over Calimore's fretful cries.

"He is still unsettled," Elrond observed, rather needlessly to Frodo's mind.

"Obviously." He replied tersely, turning his attention back to his child and continuing to rock and stroke gently. "What's troubling you, little Cali? You've been bathed and changed, fed and winded. Why are you crying, lad?"

"Has he fed as well as is usual for him?"

Frodo nodded, his gaze still on Calimore's shaking body. "He has fed as often as usual, in fact it's the only time he doesn't cry. There's no sign of fever." He looked up at the elf in exasperation. "I don't know what to do for him. He just will not be comforted."

"Would you let me try? Perhaps it is time to tempt him with something a little more solid than milk." He held up the bowl.

"Is he old enough for that?" Frodo asked, dubiously.

"Sometimes such crying is a sign that it is time to try. He is five months old now. I think Calimore should be able to cope with it."

"Then please try. I feel so helpless." He rose and handed Calimore over to the elven lord. "Do all parents go through this? I thought we were supposed to create this wonderful bonding where I would know exactly what my child needed. Is it just me that can't get it right?"

The elf did not laugh at him. "He is just fretful. I can detect no illness." Settling the squalling babe in the crook of his arm, Elrond dipped a small spoon in the apple, taking up the tiniest amount, and slipping it into Calimore's wide open mouth. For a moment the babe continued to cry and then his eyes opened in surprise as his tongue encountered the sweet taste of the apple. The wails stopped and Elrond drew the spoon out, leaving a tiny bit of sauce on the pale pink tongue.

Calimore's mouth closed as he tried to work out how to get the morsel from tongue to throat. Until now he had been used only to suckling and that method did not seem to work in this case. Fortunately, the sauce had been milled almost to a liquid and it slid down without him having to make too much effort. Large blue eyes blinked and began to search around for more . . . all thought of crying now forgotten. He apparently learned fast for when Elrond touched the spoon to his lips again the rosebud mouth opened wide to admit it.

As Frodo watched, something tugged at his heart. Until now Calimore had been dependent solely upon him. Now his babe was growing up and could turn to others for succour and he felt a slight twinge of jealousy and loss at the thought. On the other hand, Calimore was gaining his first independence and their paths were beginning to diverge, just a little.

Calimore took only three or four mouthfuls and then turned his head away as the next was offered. Elrond smiled as he settled the tiny babe, tummy down, along the length of his forearm, the small head nestled in the crook of the elf's elbow. With two fingers of his other hand he began to pat gently and rhythmically upon Calimore's back. The tiny babe snuggled against the velvet sleeve, hiccuping twice before eyes swollen with crying closed. With one final yawn, Calimore drifted off into sleep.

A part of Frodo relaxed in relief that his child was no longer upset or hungry. Calimore was a hobbit, after all and to be hungry was a torment no hobbit would willingly inflict upon another. How could he not have recognised the symptoms, he chided himself. He supposed that if he had been in the Shire there would have been several older folk willing to advise a young parent on such things. Here he was limited to Elrond and, even now, he found asking the elf anything just a little daunting.

"Now, why couldn't I do that?"

The elf smiled and handed Calimore back to Frodo. The small bundle moulded itself at once to his parent's familiar body . . . his now serene face turning to nuzzle into the smooth silk of Frodo's waistcoat. Not wishing to end this moment, Frodo returned to the rocking chair rather than placing Calimore in his cradle, and for several minutes both elf and hobbit rested in the sound of water and birdsong. It was Elrond who broke the silence.

"I have a communication for you." He handed over a small envelope and Frodo recognised the handwriting at once as being Merry's. He ripped it open eagerly, his sudden action making Calimore stir, and he paused for a moment while his child settled back down into sleep. He glanced through it quickly, his face lighting up.

"It's from Merry. He says Sam and Rose had a lovely wedding day. That Rose looked beautiful and that Sam stammered his vows and blushed . . . Pip claimed two dances with the bride at the wedding feast and would have claimed a third if Sam had not intervened and pointed out that he deserved to dance at least one reel with his wife." Frodo giggled. "Merry says that Pip still tried to insist on another dance, saying that Sam would have all the opportunity he needed now that he and Rose were wed. That's when Merry spun our cousin around and thrust him into the arms of some lass called Diamond. I don't think I know her."

For a moment longer Frodo read on in silence, although he was still smiling. Then he suddenly realised that Elrond was still watching. He folded the missive neatly and returned it to its envelope, placing it carefully in his pocket to read again later.

"It seems that Pippin is being pursued by the lasses left right and centre. Cuts quite a dash." He shook his head and looked down at the contented little bundle nestling in his lap. "It doesn't seem five minutes since he was this size and Merry and I were taking turns to try and get him to sleep. Pippin never seemed to like sleeping. I'm sure he thought something frightfully exciting was going to happen as soon as he closed his eyes and that he would be the only one to miss it." Frodo sighed. "Poor Pip got a bit more excitement than he bargained for when he got mixed up with me."

"You all did, lad." Bilbo crossed from the door and came to stand by his nephew's chair, smiling down at Calimore. "But because of the sacrifices that you made your children will grow up safe, and happy and with no more excitement in their lives than being caught stealing a kiss from a pretty lass in the moonlight."

Frodo idly twirled on of the dark silky curls of his son's head. "Will you even know that, Calimore?"

Bilbo glanced across at their host and winked. "Well . . . it doesn't have to be a hobbit lass."

Elrond tried to hide his smile behind a carefully placed hand but in his eyes a star had kindled and Frodo ducked his chin, ostensibly to check his child's nappy.

0000

Frodo looked up from his book, inhaling the scent of bluebells from the nearby woods. The chestnut tree above him was in full leaf, dappling the sunshine of this bright early summer day, and he laid his head back on a cushion, staring up at the blue sky peeping through the gently stirring greenery. A smile touched his lips as Calimore began to gurgle and coo on the rug at his side and he turned to find his gaze almost level with his son's triumphant blue eyes. The babe had succeeded in raising himself up onto wobbly arms and knees.

"Well, hello. So you've found out that your arms are good for more than pushing toys into your mouth. Aren't you the clever one?" Frodo laughed and was rewarded with a gummy and drooling grin in reply.

Fishing about beside him for a hanky, Frodo reached across and dabbed at Calimore's chin and the babe tried to pull away, his face screwing up in distaste. But his trial was soon over and he turned his concentration to blowing spit bubbles, watching in amazement as little drops of drool landed upon the rug and disappeared, leaving a small dark patch. The site of a bright scarlet ladybird ambling across said dark patch caught and held his large blue eyes. He reached out for the colourful object but the action broke his delicate balance and he would have fallen flat on his face if Frodo had not reached out with the alacrity only a parent (or an elf perhaps) could muster and caught him.

Calimore's bottom lip began to quiver at this injustice . . . he had, after all, only wanted to examine and perhaps taste the colourful thing. He was allowed to touch and taste other things. Why was he refused this? Thanks to his parent's quick action he had not yet discovered the folly of his actions and saw only that he was being refused something. Recognising the change of expression Frodo gathered his son into his lap and tried to distract him, producing the little rattle that Legolas had sent. The ladybird forgotten at once, Calimore reached out and grasped it, waving it around wildly to hear it's tinkling bells hidden safe within a strong smooth wooden shell.

Frodo watched, smiling and gently pushing the object away when it threatened to hit a nose or chin. Calimore eventually tired of waving and brought it to his mouth, liberally coating it in baby spit within minutes. Frodo wished he knew what sort of wood it was carved from for no matter how hard it was sucked, gummed or bashed it did not seem to dent or splinter. He watched the drool sliding down its side and onto Calimore's fist and considered the hanky . . . then changed his mind. Calimore would only be messy again in five minutes time and a little spit never did any harm. Frodo had remembered quickly enough from Pippin's youth that babies did not stay clean for long.

Feeling a warm dampness in his lap, Frodo looked down. It seemed that parents did not stay clean for long either. When had he changed Calimore's nappy last? He smiled ruefully at the growing stain his son had created on Frodo's silk waistcoat and velvet breeches. He would have to do something about that, and soon. That would definitely do some harm if not tackled quickly. And he would need more than a handkerchief. Frodo folded his son into his arms and rose.

"Come on, Little Cali. Time you and I both changed. I swear that there's more comes out of your bottom than ever goes in through your mouth." He ended the sentence by planting a little kiss upon Calimore's nose.

Cali crowed delightedly at the change in position, blissfully ignorant of its reason. He could see so much more of this fascinating world from up here. Dropping the rattle at once, he grabbed a fist full of his Da's hair, pushing it into his mouth, his huge blue eyes drinking in the rapidly changing scenery as Frodo carried him back to the house and nursery. As they walked Frodo jiggled him up and down in his arms, in time to the rhyme he sang.

"PAT-A-CAKE, pat-a-cake baker's man. So I will, master, as fast as I can; Pat it and prick it and mark it with C, Put in the oven for Cali and me. Cali and me, Cali and me. And put in the oven for Cali and me."

By the time Frodo was half way through his second rendition Calimore was joining in . . . or at least making cooing noises and giggling, and that was close enough for his doting parent.

It would be a few months more before Calimore could have cake but mushroom soup was on today's luncheon menu. Frodo was going to make sure that his son discovered the delights of mushrooms as soon as he was able, for a Baggins who didn't eat mushrooms was unthinkable.

And there were so many other things that he had yet to introduce him to. Playing tag in a meadow full of wild flowers . . . counting the stars on a warm summer evening . . . catching frogs and sticklebacks in a stream . . . scrumping for apples in an autumn orchard . . . cooking . . . reading by the fire on a winter's evening . . . walking on a bright spring morning. They could discover the world together. And there was another new world to explore across the sea . . . one that had no evil memories and only joy. A world they could discover together.

His soul filled with the sunshine of his child's happy giggles, Frodo strolled on to their rooms, heedless of the amused glances various elves were giving to his clothes.

THE END