Chapter Eleven---New Beginnings
Before they were to return to Buckland the next day, Bilbo decided to pay a visit to a certain Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. He left first thing in the morning, and made sure not to tell his nephew where he was headed. When he reached the Sackville-Baggins home, he opened the door, not bothering to knock. Lobelia stood in the kitchen, frying bacon in a pan. The smell was inviting and homey, the exact opposite of the hobbit maid who glared at the intruder. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and looked at Bilbo.
"So nice of you to knock. What do you want, then?" She spat.
Bilbo cut straight to the point, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. "I assume you know the trouble Lotho caused at the Fair, Lobelia. Your son should be punished for what he did."
"I have no idea what you're talking about;" she lied, trying unsuccessfully to appear busy arranging the breakfast table. Bilbo glared at her, and she sighed in resignition.
"Oh, all right. I suppose I do know what you're talking about, but I assure you it was nothing but a harmless prank. Frodo was probably overreacting. Doesn't he pretend to be ill, sometimes? That's what Lotho tells me. He must be desperete for attention." Lobelia didn't turn to look at Bilbo, and he continued to stare angrily at her back.
"Sticklebats, Lobelia. Lotho didn't pull any harmless prank. Frodo was quite ill from his allergies and was barely breathing, when we found him. Lotho and his friends did try to hurt him, and if you ask me, they ALL deserve to be punished. Or do you want Lotho to continue to be a bully like he is?"
Lobelia stared at him now; mouth set in a tight line.
"If what you say is true, I assure you that it wasn't Lotho's fault. But..." her expression softened slightly, "He was quite ill? I suppose I'll look into it." She sighed.
"Thank you," Bilbo replied tightly, knowing this was the best he could get out of her. "But there is one other thing. I have decided to make Frodo the sole heir and porprieter of Bag End. Just thought I'd let you know. Good day!" With that, he closed the door with a smile, as a shocked Lobelia stood staring ahgast, her bacon burning to a blackened crisp.
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The Bagginses spent the remaining weeks of the spring and early summer at Brandy Hall, but before long it was time to return to Hobbiton for good. Despite his minor setback at the Fair, Frodo's health was greatly improving. Days out in the sun and fresh with his cousins and friends had done him worlds of good, as did the close extended family he had to look after him now. Bell had become like a second mother to him, caring for his troubles and scrapes as if he was one of her own. To everyone's amusment, Sam looked after the older lad as well, and the two were rarely seen without one another. They made quite a contrasting pair, the small, earthy lad with his hands constantly in the soil, and the tall, pale tweenager who was more often and not with his nose stuck in a book.
Summer passed quietly, as it often did in Hobbiton. Frodo spent leisurely days lounging, swimming, or exploring with his friends, the newest of which included, much to his surprise, both Falco and Milo Boffin. Both lads had dissolved their previous ill will towards the unusual boy after his scare on Mid-Year's Day, and Milo had immediately admitted to his crime. The punishment for all three boys involved had been harsh, but fair. Even Lotho was punished, quite severly, by Lobelia, which amused Bilbo and surprised Frodo to no end.
When September finally rolled around, Bilbo and Frodo clebrated their first birthday together quietly, by having a delicious picnic in a special spot Bilbo had discovered. Sam came along, and to the delight of both lads, a certain wizard decided to pay them all a visit. Frodo received beautifiul presents from him, many that were Elvish made, and developed an instant bond with the grey wanderer. Sam remained in awe, however, and his younger siblings delighted in hearing his tale of the fateful meeting many times.
By November, things had settled into a pleasant pattern at Bag End. Frodo and Bilbo were growing ever closer, and the large smial was beginning to feel like a true home to the tweenager. Often, Frodo and Bilbo would spend late nights talking together by the crackling hearth flames. On one of these nights, nephew and uncle sat in their usual chair by the fire, enjoying each other's company. Frodo looked strangely sad, however, and Bilbo touched his shoulder gently.
"What's wrong, silme?" He asked quietly. Frodo sighed. "Nothing. And that's just it." Bilbo looked at him curiosuly, and Frodo continued.
"These past months have been wonderful, Bilbo, truly they have. I couldn't have asked for a better home than Bag End. But...I can't help wondering...I know you won't be around forever, Bilbo. And, and, well...I just worry sometimes, that's all. I thought my parents and I would be together, always..." he finished quietly, biting his lip to hold back tears.
"Oh, my dear lad," Bilbo shook his head, "how long has this been troubling you?" Frodo shrugged. "A while, I suppose. Since...since the twenty-fourth."
Bilbo sighed. November twenty-fourth had been the anniversery of Primula and Drogo's deaths. As much as the old hobbit knew of the pain Frodo went through each year on this occasion, he had no idea how much he now worried about losing his new home and Bilbo; his new family.
"My lad, let me reassure you; I will not be gone for a long time yet. And when I am...always remember that we will see each other again, silme. Nothing can separate you and I for long. Bagginses stick together, after all. But, like I said, don't get tired of me yet." Bilbo chuckled warmly, and he felt Frodo's tense shoulders relax. He noticed the boy was crying, but smiling, and hugged him closely as he stroked his dark curls.
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When December finally came, all of the children of Hobbiton were delighted with an early snow, soft white flakes covering the smials and houses of the town. Frodo was so excited when he saw it, he ran out of Bag End in his nightclothes, and spun joyously as the powder dusted his face and landed like stars on his dark hair. Bilbo had just woken, and was surprised to see his nephew come in shivering with a smile on his flushed face, not yet dressed.
"My goodness, lad, wait until after breakfast to go out in the snow. Now let's get you by the fire, before you catch a chill." Frodo nodded and laughed.
"I couldn't resist, Bilbo, I'm sorry. It just looked so beautiful blanketing the town like that." Bilbo smiled. "It does indeed, my lad. And you'll have plenty of time to explore later, but how do eggs and sausages sound now?"
"That sounds wonderful, and I'm starving. Snow makes me hungry, I think." Bilbo laughed, and ruffled Frodo's wet hair, as the two walked to the kitchen, following the delicious smells of the breakfast Bilbo had prepared.
After Bilbo finished helping Frodo get toasty warm and dry, they sat down for breakfast and ate in pleasant silence. Frodo gobbled his food down, while Bilbo poked at a juicy sausage and mused to himself. He knew winter was never easy for his nephew. While for most lads and lasses the coming of the season meant sledding, snowball fights, and long nights of snowy exploring, Frodo's winters seemed to consist of an endless barrage of colds, coughs, and flus. Bilbo delighted in seeing his lad happy and much heartier than he had been in the spring, and he wanted Frodo's peace and comfort to last. The lad truly deserved to enjoy himself, after all he had been through.
When breakfast was finished, Frodo helped Bilbo clean up the table. Much to his uncle's dismay, but not surprise, the lad let out a loud sneeze, and looked up, embarrassed.
"Bless you, my lad. I suppose you did catch a chill out there, hmm? How are you feeling?" Frodo tried to appear as chipper as he could, for he dreadfully wanted to play in the snow, but knew he probably was falling ill as his uncle had said.
"Just...just fine, Uncle Bilbo, truly," he lied, sneezing again, which unintentionally disproved his point. Bilbo shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Frodo. If you're falling ill you'll have to stay indoors today." His heart broke when he saw his nephew's face fall, and he sighed.
"I'm sure it's nothing serious, lad, but we can't take any chances..."
"It's always something serious," Frodo interuppted sadly. "But it's all right. I'm used to it." He walked away sadly to his room, and Bilbo shook his head as he heard Frodo sneeze loudly again.
"Why can't it ever be easy for him?" he asked himself quietly, following his nephew down the hall.
Before they were to return to Buckland the next day, Bilbo decided to pay a visit to a certain Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. He left first thing in the morning, and made sure not to tell his nephew where he was headed. When he reached the Sackville-Baggins home, he opened the door, not bothering to knock. Lobelia stood in the kitchen, frying bacon in a pan. The smell was inviting and homey, the exact opposite of the hobbit maid who glared at the intruder. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and looked at Bilbo.
"So nice of you to knock. What do you want, then?" She spat.
Bilbo cut straight to the point, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. "I assume you know the trouble Lotho caused at the Fair, Lobelia. Your son should be punished for what he did."
"I have no idea what you're talking about;" she lied, trying unsuccessfully to appear busy arranging the breakfast table. Bilbo glared at her, and she sighed in resignition.
"Oh, all right. I suppose I do know what you're talking about, but I assure you it was nothing but a harmless prank. Frodo was probably overreacting. Doesn't he pretend to be ill, sometimes? That's what Lotho tells me. He must be desperete for attention." Lobelia didn't turn to look at Bilbo, and he continued to stare angrily at her back.
"Sticklebats, Lobelia. Lotho didn't pull any harmless prank. Frodo was quite ill from his allergies and was barely breathing, when we found him. Lotho and his friends did try to hurt him, and if you ask me, they ALL deserve to be punished. Or do you want Lotho to continue to be a bully like he is?"
Lobelia stared at him now; mouth set in a tight line.
"If what you say is true, I assure you that it wasn't Lotho's fault. But..." her expression softened slightly, "He was quite ill? I suppose I'll look into it." She sighed.
"Thank you," Bilbo replied tightly, knowing this was the best he could get out of her. "But there is one other thing. I have decided to make Frodo the sole heir and porprieter of Bag End. Just thought I'd let you know. Good day!" With that, he closed the door with a smile, as a shocked Lobelia stood staring ahgast, her bacon burning to a blackened crisp.
********************************************************
The Bagginses spent the remaining weeks of the spring and early summer at Brandy Hall, but before long it was time to return to Hobbiton for good. Despite his minor setback at the Fair, Frodo's health was greatly improving. Days out in the sun and fresh with his cousins and friends had done him worlds of good, as did the close extended family he had to look after him now. Bell had become like a second mother to him, caring for his troubles and scrapes as if he was one of her own. To everyone's amusment, Sam looked after the older lad as well, and the two were rarely seen without one another. They made quite a contrasting pair, the small, earthy lad with his hands constantly in the soil, and the tall, pale tweenager who was more often and not with his nose stuck in a book.
Summer passed quietly, as it often did in Hobbiton. Frodo spent leisurely days lounging, swimming, or exploring with his friends, the newest of which included, much to his surprise, both Falco and Milo Boffin. Both lads had dissolved their previous ill will towards the unusual boy after his scare on Mid-Year's Day, and Milo had immediately admitted to his crime. The punishment for all three boys involved had been harsh, but fair. Even Lotho was punished, quite severly, by Lobelia, which amused Bilbo and surprised Frodo to no end.
When September finally rolled around, Bilbo and Frodo clebrated their first birthday together quietly, by having a delicious picnic in a special spot Bilbo had discovered. Sam came along, and to the delight of both lads, a certain wizard decided to pay them all a visit. Frodo received beautifiul presents from him, many that were Elvish made, and developed an instant bond with the grey wanderer. Sam remained in awe, however, and his younger siblings delighted in hearing his tale of the fateful meeting many times.
By November, things had settled into a pleasant pattern at Bag End. Frodo and Bilbo were growing ever closer, and the large smial was beginning to feel like a true home to the tweenager. Often, Frodo and Bilbo would spend late nights talking together by the crackling hearth flames. On one of these nights, nephew and uncle sat in their usual chair by the fire, enjoying each other's company. Frodo looked strangely sad, however, and Bilbo touched his shoulder gently.
"What's wrong, silme?" He asked quietly. Frodo sighed. "Nothing. And that's just it." Bilbo looked at him curiosuly, and Frodo continued.
"These past months have been wonderful, Bilbo, truly they have. I couldn't have asked for a better home than Bag End. But...I can't help wondering...I know you won't be around forever, Bilbo. And, and, well...I just worry sometimes, that's all. I thought my parents and I would be together, always..." he finished quietly, biting his lip to hold back tears.
"Oh, my dear lad," Bilbo shook his head, "how long has this been troubling you?" Frodo shrugged. "A while, I suppose. Since...since the twenty-fourth."
Bilbo sighed. November twenty-fourth had been the anniversery of Primula and Drogo's deaths. As much as the old hobbit knew of the pain Frodo went through each year on this occasion, he had no idea how much he now worried about losing his new home and Bilbo; his new family.
"My lad, let me reassure you; I will not be gone for a long time yet. And when I am...always remember that we will see each other again, silme. Nothing can separate you and I for long. Bagginses stick together, after all. But, like I said, don't get tired of me yet." Bilbo chuckled warmly, and he felt Frodo's tense shoulders relax. He noticed the boy was crying, but smiling, and hugged him closely as he stroked his dark curls.
********************************************************
When December finally came, all of the children of Hobbiton were delighted with an early snow, soft white flakes covering the smials and houses of the town. Frodo was so excited when he saw it, he ran out of Bag End in his nightclothes, and spun joyously as the powder dusted his face and landed like stars on his dark hair. Bilbo had just woken, and was surprised to see his nephew come in shivering with a smile on his flushed face, not yet dressed.
"My goodness, lad, wait until after breakfast to go out in the snow. Now let's get you by the fire, before you catch a chill." Frodo nodded and laughed.
"I couldn't resist, Bilbo, I'm sorry. It just looked so beautiful blanketing the town like that." Bilbo smiled. "It does indeed, my lad. And you'll have plenty of time to explore later, but how do eggs and sausages sound now?"
"That sounds wonderful, and I'm starving. Snow makes me hungry, I think." Bilbo laughed, and ruffled Frodo's wet hair, as the two walked to the kitchen, following the delicious smells of the breakfast Bilbo had prepared.
After Bilbo finished helping Frodo get toasty warm and dry, they sat down for breakfast and ate in pleasant silence. Frodo gobbled his food down, while Bilbo poked at a juicy sausage and mused to himself. He knew winter was never easy for his nephew. While for most lads and lasses the coming of the season meant sledding, snowball fights, and long nights of snowy exploring, Frodo's winters seemed to consist of an endless barrage of colds, coughs, and flus. Bilbo delighted in seeing his lad happy and much heartier than he had been in the spring, and he wanted Frodo's peace and comfort to last. The lad truly deserved to enjoy himself, after all he had been through.
When breakfast was finished, Frodo helped Bilbo clean up the table. Much to his uncle's dismay, but not surprise, the lad let out a loud sneeze, and looked up, embarrassed.
"Bless you, my lad. I suppose you did catch a chill out there, hmm? How are you feeling?" Frodo tried to appear as chipper as he could, for he dreadfully wanted to play in the snow, but knew he probably was falling ill as his uncle had said.
"Just...just fine, Uncle Bilbo, truly," he lied, sneezing again, which unintentionally disproved his point. Bilbo shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Frodo. If you're falling ill you'll have to stay indoors today." His heart broke when he saw his nephew's face fall, and he sighed.
"I'm sure it's nothing serious, lad, but we can't take any chances..."
"It's always something serious," Frodo interuppted sadly. "But it's all right. I'm used to it." He walked away sadly to his room, and Bilbo shook his head as he heard Frodo sneeze loudly again.
"Why can't it ever be easy for him?" he asked himself quietly, following his nephew down the hall.