Letter Four---Bilbo
October came in Rivendell as slowly as a late moonrise, and when it did it was the loveliest October Bilbo could ever remember. The trees turned golden brown and burnt red, but kept the strange sheen that they always had, a truly elvish star-dusted silver. The weather, as usual, was pleasantly cool, and the skies were a toasted almond and a sleepy gray- blue, dotted with cottony clouds and few storms. Yes, it was one of the most beautiful seasons Bilbo had seen, but he was deeply unhappy, for reasons he kept to himself.

Because of this, he was more than delighted when Frodo's newest letter arrived, until he read it through. He suddenly knew he had much still to tell his beloved nephew that should never have been kept from him.

"Uncle Bilbo," the letter began,

Sam and I were clearing out Bag End's master bedroom today, and we found a trunk I'd never seen before. We found letters inside, piles and piles of them. There were letters to my mother and father from when they were alive, and other rather commonplace ones, but we also found letters to a Dodinas Brandybuck. Who is she? I want to know, uncle. Did you love her? What happened to her? I read about myself in those letters, and I know it's silly...but I'd like to apologize.

You've had so many years of worry and grief on my part, as had my parents, and I never even realized the extent. I want to thank you again, Uncle Bilbo, for taking me in so long ago and adopting me. I can't imagine my life without you, truly, and I am more grateful than I can say. I know I couldn't have been the easiest tween to take care of, and my frequent illnesses must have put a great strain on you. That was your time you should have had for yourself, for writing your book and adventuring, not for spending your time caring for a sickly, orphaned hobbit lad. The more I miss you, the more I seem to remember this. I am so lucky to have you and Sam and all of my family and friends to look out for me, as much of a trouble as I may be.

I am dreadfully curious about the letters, but there is something even more important I must tell you about...

Sam and I were camping out a few weeks ago (much to Merry's approval, considering my recent label of "shut in,") and I had the strangest dream. It was one of those dreams I used to have when I was younger, the ones that seemed "real". Do you remember when I dreamt of my parents falling into the dark blue void, that night at Bag End? I was so afraid, and you assured me it was just a nightmare. A week later they drowned. I've never forgotten that... This dream was much the same. More bits and pieces come are coming to me, although I can't remember it all...I know there was an elf maiden with the darkest hair, and a beautiful, fair face. She spoke soothing words to me, and I heard the sounds of the sea, and saw a flash of bright light...When I woke I felt so strange, it would be impossible to explain. Uncle Bilbo, I think this elf maid was the Lady Arwen you speak so highly of. I know it is strange, but if it is not too bold, could you ask her if she...dreamt of me, as well? I know it sounds odd, but I have a feeling about it that I can't fathom...It almost feels like it was magic, but a sad type of magic...Listen to me go on! I suppose I am just as queer as people say. ("People" mostly being the S-Bs and Merry, when he is feeling his cheekiest...which is often.)

As for the other, less elvish, happenings lately...The harvest festival preparations are going well, and the pumpkin Sam was helping me grow may take first prize! I must say, I'm dreadfully proud of it. Pippin commented to me that he could fit inside with room to spare, and I believe it's true! What a sight that would be. I just hope he and Merry won't take that idea too far...You never do know, with those two...

Goldie Gamgee and Tom Cotton have begun to let their friendship grow into love, and I couldn't be happier for them. I know that poor lass has been mooning over me for ages, and I really hadn't the heart to tell her to stop. But Tom is a good, reliable fellow, and I think they are going to get on very well. I know Sam is as happy as can be about it. He *is* very protective of her, but he does like Tom a great deal, so I believe he approves. There is another Cotton I believe he likes much more than Tom, but now I am being far too bold...

I think of you all the time, and I plan to send you something of home soon, since I believe you must crave more than letters. One thing you can be sure of getting is one of the many scarves, hats, or warm coats I seem to have been receiving from everywhere as of late. I suppose one or two are enough, but everyone seems to be worried about me, with how cold it has been lately, and as Lobelia so lovingly stated "that Brandybuck being such a *delicate* thing". I believe tact is a word she has yet to learn. I hope it isn't as cold in Imladris...We are even expecting snow, by the prediction of Old Noakes! Snow in October, imagine!

Anxiously Awaiting Your Reply,

Your Loving Nephew,

Frodo

PS---Sam would like to know, for his own reference, what flowers grow in Rivendell. I told him I would be sure to ask you. ---FB

Bilbo smiled, his eyes tearing up a bit, until he laughed. Shaking his head, he sighed. "That dear lad..."

"I have to explain to him; sooner or later...I might as well begin now." Bilbo smiled as his stomach rumbled.

"But first...I believe it's time for elevenses."

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The elves in Rivendell did not, as you would assume, eat elevenses, or any other meals besides the basic three a day (and much to Bilbo's shock, sometimes less!). But since the famous hobbit was now among them, they had learned to accommodate his strange snacking schedule. When Bilbo wandered into the great dining hall to find himself something to eat, clutching his letter and some paper and a quill in one hand, he was surprised to find he wasn't entirely alone.

A tall, golden-haired elf Bilbo immediately recognized as Glorfindel. He smiled and sat down across from him at the large table, and received a small grin in return. It was then that Bilbo noticed the quill in the elf's hand, and the papers surrounding him. He laughed.

"Writing some letters too, eh?" Glorfindel smiled at the old hobbit.

"Yes, in fact I am. To my kin, my sister and her husband. They live far from here, and soon they will depart Middle Earth forever..." He looked sad. Bilbo didn't know what to say, so he attempted to lighten the mood.

"I was sure I was the only one who would be in the kitchens at this time...could I ask why you chose to write here?" Glorfindel laughed.

"It is quiet. All of the other rooms of the House would be full of elves, wandering in and out...I prefer to have my own space to write, and I always find the kitchens to be...rather homely." Bilbo smiled at him, and the two went back to their letters in relative silence, punctured only by Bilbo's occasional munching into his apple, bread, and red cheese.

"You are writing to your nephew, are you not?" Glorfindel asked, looking up. Bilbo nodded.

"You speak so highly of him, and Lady Arwen has told me she hopes to meet him...I must admit I do as well. You are the only hobbit I have ever met, and I am sure this is true for most elves here. You Halflings are truly extraordinary creatures."

Bilbo blushed. "Th-thank you, Master Glorfindel. But we really are not...we are just simple Shire hobbits, although that is enough for me," he smiled, offering Glorfindel a bit of apple.

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Later that night, Bilbo looked at his letter long and hard. Sighing deeply, he placed it in the envelope and sealed it with gold wax. It seemed so final, but he knew he was doing the right thing.

"Frodo has to know everything," he thought resolutely. "He needs to understand...about her."

Outside Bilbo's quarters, the October night grew cold, and Bilbo felt as if it seeped into his very soul, as he thought about what the letter contained, and what the next day would bring.