PIPEWEED

'My brave lad' thought Bilbo as he gazed at the face of his cousin and heir.  'What had I done to you?' 

Vaguely he was aware of Merry holding Pippin at the foot of the bed while Sam stood weeping silently on the other side.  But in Bilbo's eyes there was only Frodo, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the cold pallor of his face.  He looked as though he were dead, thought Bilbo, horrified.  Too late.  It was all too late. 

Gandalf had given him a chair beside the bed, but Bilbo would not take it.  He climbed with difficulty onto the bed and sat at the head of the bed, clasping Frodo's hand close to him with one hand while the other ran through the heavy dark curls that lay on the soft pillow. 

'When I adopted you I had promised I would never let you come to any harm,' he thought, as he pressed the cold hand in his grip to his breast.  'Even when I left you I made sure you would be secure and well provided for.  I never meant for you to carry this burden.  I never meant any of this to come to you and hurt you.  I never knew, never thought that the Ring would cause you so much pain.  Forgive me, my dear boy.'  Bilbo closed his eyes and felt tears hot and prickling under his eyelids.  'Come back now, my lad. 

'You are safe.  We are together here.'

"That was a marvelous dinner, Frodo," said Bilbo as he received his pipe from Frodo.  "Amazing what you can do in so short a time and after a long march.  I was too exhausted to do more than take off my cloak and stagger to my room."

"Well, you revived soon enough when I started frying bacon," said Frodo with a smile, standing next to Bilbo's chair and pouring wine into his crystal goblet.  "You did not even wait for me; you started eating before I finished toasting the bread."

Bilbo chuckled and took a long, appreciative sip of his wine.  "I'm old, Frodo," he said, sitting back contentedly.  "A hobbit likes to eat promptly and right on time when he is my age."

"If you hadn't insisted on taking that shortcut past Farmer Stone's fields, we would not have gotten lost and we would have been here long before suppertime," Frodo chided, sitting on the armrest of Bilbo's chair and gently massaging the stiff muscles of his cousin's shoulders. 

The old hobbit hummed happily and closed his eyes, drawing deeply on his pipe.  "Need I remind you, Frodo, that we would not have run out of food and nearly starved ourselves out there, if you had not finished off that last loaf of bread, along with half a jar or our last preserves at tea?"

"Is there a point in carrying our provisions back?  You said we would be home in time for dinner.  How was I to know that we would walk for hours in the dark instead," said Frodo rather sulkily.  "And I don't think I need to tell you who ate the most apples on the way back.  Why, the trail is likely to make a splendid orchard in a few years.  I still marvel how you still had the appetite to polish off three servings of everything."

Bilbo chuckled.  "Meager servings as I recall," he said, taking another deep pull on his pipe.  "You seemed to have done quite a thorough job on the meat and potatoes and …  Ah!"

Frodo's hands stilled on Bilbo's shoulders.  "Did I hurt you, Bilbo?"  The concern in his voice was sincere. 

"No, no, lad," said Bilbo, waving his pipe.  "That feels nice, that's all."  Frodo's fingers tentatively resumed their kneading motions.  "A little higher.  Yes." 

Bilbo sighed approvingly at Frodo's next move.  A peaceful silence ensued as Frodo continued his loving ministrations to his cousin's weary shoulders.

"It's so nice to be home," muttered Frodo.  "I love our walks and camping out under the stars, but it always feels so good to come home."

"Yes, my boy," murmured Bilbo.  "That is one of the reasons traveling abroad is so rewarding.  It brings the thought of home dearer to our hearts."

Frodo sighed and tightened his arms around Bilbo, laying his cheek on Bilbo's head.  "I am going to bed, Bilbo," he said, giving Bilbo's curls a quick kiss.  "Good night."

"Bilbo?"

"Yes, lad?"

The fingers within his grip curled and squeezed softly.  "I thought it was you," came the whispered reply. 

Bilbo opened his eyes in surprise and looked at Frodo.  His eyes were still shut, but his face was turned slightly toward Bilbo and he was inhaling deeply.  "You've been smoking too much," he sighed, before settling back to sleep with his face resting lightly on Bilbo's side. 

Bilbo looked around, too overcome with joy to speak.  But what happiness there might be in the faces of his young friends he could not see for the veil of tears that had suddenly shrouded his vision.