A/N: Hey! Sesha here! This second chappy! Hope like, work really hard to make. 'Kay, Sesha lying... not work hard at all. Mostly make up stuff off top of head. Sister work hard. Pulling out hair trying make Sesha's work make sense. Well, not lot say, so carry on, mellon nin!
When they finally arrived to the Baggins' residence, the moon had already gone a ways up in the sky. It was a difficult trek back to Bag End, the two... occupied hobbits slipping off the two's backs so many times that the great urge to leave them lying on the lane had to be discarded several times. The moonlight shone against the curve of the Hill, and the bushes and flowers surrounding shimmered in the silver rays. Sam and Frodo made their way to the front gate, depositing their burdens onto the cool softness of the grass.
Frodo walked slowly to the front door, but stopped short when he noticed that it wasn't fully closed. He eyed the door warily before reaching out to push the door open further. It creaked open with suspenseful slowness. The room within was disheveled; maps and pages from Bilbo's narrative carpeted the floors. Frodo rushed in filled with a sense of dread for his uncle.
"Bilbo!" he yelled, running through each hall and glancing through each door. Not a sign it seemed was there of his beloved uncle, nor the creature that may have abducted him. Each room was as ransacked as the first, littered with clothing; the sheets in the guest rooms were tossed to the side along with the pillows, stripped of their linen cases. No where, absolutely no where, could poor Bilbo be found, but the whole house was searched twice before the passions of young Frodo seemed to cool. It was then, that Frodo knelt in the study, close to tears.
"Mr. Frodo, it's okay, your Sam is here. I'm sure Mr. Bilbo is fine. Won't ever let no one mess with him, no sir. Always liked to be in charge. I feel sorry for that kidnapper now!" Sam put as much enthusiasm into his voice as possible, trying to give hope to both him and his friend. "Why, I bet even now he's giving them a whole lot of trouble, yes sir."
Frodo laughed gently at Sam's attempt at enthusiasm, but the pall of worry did not lift from his face. "I'm still afraid, Sam," he said, wrapping his knees insecurely with his arms. "What if something horrid has happened to old Bilbo?" Tears streamed down the length of his cheeks. "Who would want to hurt him, anyway?"
"I don't know who, but I don't think they were after him. It looks like they were searching for something, like they wanted something and couldn't find it. Oh, I hope Mr. Bilbo is well!"
"So do I, Sam," Frodo said. He stared pensively at the surrounding messiness. What on Earth could Bilbo give them? Could it be that people outside of the Shire have heard of his supposed endless wealth?
"Mr. Frodo...do you suppose the letter and the elf have something to do with this? I mean, first we leave the house, then the elf comes with a letter we can't read and says it's from Mr. Bilbo, and then we come back and Mr. Bilbo is gone! What do you think, Mr. Frodo?"
The elf...the elf? Frodo lifted his head up in sudden realization. He had been to preoccupied with the thought of the great recipe to really notice at first, but Merry and Pippin had chanced upon mentioning the elf once or twice during their conversation. Along with...with Gandalf! But, first, what did they say about the elf. Pippin's boyish face appeared in his thoughts, still inebriated and red in the face. What had he said?
"'...He was like, this tall...'Cept taller.' They didn't say anything about what the elf was doing in the study! Ai Elbereth! Sam, I think we should wake Merry and Pippin up." Sam looked at him like he had just said something stupid.
"Mr. Frodo, sir," he started, "I don't rightly know what's going on in your head right now, but I can't see what good that does. What can those two drunken blighters do to help us?"
"They can tell us about what happened in the study, Sam. Maybe we can figure out what the elf and Gandalf were there for. Maybe we can find some clues!"
"That's some sharp thinking there, Mr. Frodo. Let's go get them now."
The two hobbits left Bag End in search of their sleeping companions. The moon cast an eerie glow about the place and didn't help to quell the fear rising in both hobbits. They searched for Merry and Pippin in the soft grass outside Bag End, but to no avail. Said hobbits were nowhere to be found.
"Those two must have gone off home," Sam thought aloud, scratching his head as he looked at the two grooves of flattened grass that marked Merry and Pippin's previous beds.
"Well, I suppose we should go after them then. In the state both are in, I doubt they'll get far. Besides, they didn't have that long of a head start, right?" Frodo asked, staring intently at the ground.
"I guess so, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied. Stepping their way onto the road, the two hobbits stared straight down to search for any sign of their inebriated companions. Finding nothing but an empty lane that made a bend around another knoll, they decided to follow the two's supposed path. Pippin's house was nearest, so it was Pippin's house they went first.
The stroll was not as pleasant as usual. It was an exceptionally long walk to the Took residence, and their hearts fell when they didn't find their friend in his house or on the road to it.
"I doubt they would want to make their way to Merry's house, would they?" Sam asked Frodo, wondering if they would even be able to get that far without passing out on the side of the road. Frodo just shrugged, doubtful that the two would try, but nevertheless, the predicament was very important and all situations had to be thought out. So the two made their way to the road to Merry's house, stopping halfway and shaking their heads and turning back when the two weren't even spotted on the road or any place near.
"Sam, I think something bad happened," Frodo said, apprehension growing. "I hope they're all right..."
"Knowing those two," Sam said, finger on chin, "they probably aren't in too much trouble...just yet. They're probably wandering around somewhere."
"Yes...wandering..."
There was a sudden splash of water from behind, where a thick growth of trees were and puddles from recent rainfalls gathered in slight basins in the dirt and grass. Sam and Frodo turned toward the sound, trying to glance into the trees. A shadow against the shadows seemed to loom in the gaps between the trees.
"Come out!" Frodo shouted as confidently as he could. "I...we don't want to hurt you!! If...if you come out right now...we..." his voice faltered as the figure in the shadows moved out into the light of the moon. Both hobbits let out a gasp of surprise. (GASP!)
The silver rays of the moon reflected against the shining platinum of elven hair, and a sparkle of white light seemed to illuminate from the figure's being. Pippin's elf, the elf of the pub, stood there before them, his fair face a mixture of amusement and friendly surprise.
"It's nice to see you again, my nameless friends. Though I would prefer a kinder greeting." His smile widened at the embarrassment that now ruled both hobbits features. "Now what are you doing out here at this time of night? Are you looking for Mister Frodo and Sam? I still haven't found either." He looked confused for a second, but then smiled again as if nothing had happened. "I promised Mister Bilbo I'd find them, and find them I will, but until then," he looked at the hobbits with interest, "I shall escort my friends to whatever their destination may be."
Frodo's eyes widened greatly and he rushed over to the elf and clutched the silver of his clothes. "You know where Bibo is?"
"Isn't he at home?" the elf asked, looking over both hobbits' worried faces. He then looked back down the path the two had come, as if trying to see Bag End and Bilbo sleeping soundly within it. His fair face carried a look of concern. "Where are you, mellon nin?" he quietly said to himself.
"That's what we'd like to know," Sam said, stepping forward, putting a consoling hand on his companion's tense shoulder. "Why does Bilbo want us found?"
He looked at them confused and then smiled...again. "You two are Misters Sam and Frodo?" he asked cheerfully, as if forgetting the whole Bilbo business. "I don't know why Mr. Bilbo wanted to talk to you...did you give yourselves the letter?"
Sam had a sudden realization and searched through his pockets for the slip of paper. He pulled out his hand when he found it, unfolding the paper, but realizing after a moment that it was half of the mushroom stew recipe. The elf eyed it curiously.
"Old pieces of paper will deteriorate if you leave them in your pockets, Master...Frodo? Sam?" Sam gave a curt nod in the elf's direction. "If I had handed myself a letter to give to myself, I would have read it right away." The elf said. It wasn't directed toward anybody, he was musing to himself.
"Well, we did try to read it," Sam said, paying more attention to his pockets than to whom the elf was talking to, "but it was written in some weird elvish. We couldn't understand it."
"Elvish? I didn't know that Master Bilbo knew elvish..." he looked reflectively up at the stars. "Are you sure it was elvish? I know Bilbo knew bits, but...something isn't right here...a whole letter in elvish?"
"Is that unbelievable?" asked Sam.
"Unbelievable, no, I suppose not..."
"Alright..."
The elf looked over Sam thoughtfully. "Why did you stop searching, master hobbit?"
Sam shrugged and pulled out the remaining two slips of paper in his pocket. He unfolded both sheets, discerning the curved elegance of the elvish writing from the unsightly scrawl of dear old Uncle Bingle's.
The elf looked at Uncle Bingle's recipe curiously. "What's that, master hobbit?" he asked, indicating the sheet of paper in Sam's right hand. "That's not the letter, but it must hold great importance for you to be carrying it around. I assume the other old sheet of paper was the other half. Can I see? It must be very interesting!"
"I'd like to let you," Sam said, looking down at the ripped halves, "but I'm not keen on risking losing it after what happened today."
The elf looked at him downheartedly, but then recognized the other slip of paper in Sam's left hand. "Is that Master Bilbo's letter? Can I see it?"
Sam handed the only non-crumpled bit of parchment he had to the elf, stuffing the recipe back into his pocket.
The elf looked it over carefully. The hobbits watched him with mild concern. He finally looked up from the sheet and at the apprehensive faces of the hobbits. "It's elvish, but it's of a very old form...I doubt even the scholars of Imladris could make out most of this...let me see...'Dearest Frodo, ... ... ... ... honey... ... ... sweet water ... Greenwood... elves... the wizard of the north... ...' I'm sorry, that's all I can make out..."
"Why would Bilbo give me a letter I can't read, let alone any elf?" asked Frodo, wondering aloud.
"Are you sure this is in your uncle's script?"
"I don't know how Bilbo's handwriting is in elvish...but some of these letters do look like Bilbo wrote them..." Frodo said, examining the parchment.
"...Well..." his gaze was once again directed to the stars, "the best thing to do would be to ask Master Bilbo, but...you don't seem to know where he is... what happened? Why don't you know where he is?" he looked at the hobbits inquisitively.
Frodo's eyes watered somewhat with new tears at the thought of his missing uncle, and he wiped away those that brimmed his lids. The elf took a look down at him and put a confused, but consoling hand atop his curly head.
"It's okay, little one. Bilbo is safe. I can feel it. I promise I'll help you find him. My promise is my bond, and the only thing that can sever it is death. And even past that if I can help it." He kneeled down and looked Frodo straight in the eyes, smiling softly. "But you need to tell me what happened. I can't help if I don't know all the facts."
"Well, Mr. Bilbo was at home sleeping and when we came home he wasn't there no more and the house was all messed up!" Sam said, all in one breath and very very fast.
"Messed up? Was there a struggle, or did it look like someone was looking for something, or both?" The hobbits looked unsure. "It's alright. Why don't we go back to Bag End and have another look around. See if who or whatever was in there left some clues as to its identity." He sent another glance back down the path to Bag End. "The trees are restless; something is about to happen."
Sam gulped at the elf's remark. As the tall figure turned toward the Hill, Sam tugged at his cloak with a sort of anxiety, remembering the two hobbits of which they were searching for.
"Is something the matter, master hobbit?" he asked, noticing Sam's anxiety. His gaze didn't stay long, for something it the boughs of a nearby tree caught his attention. "Túle eth!" (come out!) He yelled at the tree, pulling a long dagger from somewhere unknown. When nothing happened, he walked to the tree and jumped into its branches and out of sight.
A fair struggle seemed to occur in the leaf-shielded boughs of the great oak, shaking the green bits from their places among the extended twigs. Sam and Frodo heard several squeals and shrieks, along with the yell of the elf, then, everything went silent. Sam stared up from his spot just yards from the tree, trying to discern any familiar sight from amongst the shadowed greens and browns.
"Hey! Mister elf! Are you okay?" Sam yelled into the green depths. Just then the elf dropped onto the path. He smiled at the hobbits again, but something was different, more unsettling about him. "What happened? What was up there?!" The elf stood straight and tall and loomed over the hobbits. He was an imposing figure.
There was a gentle smile that ruled his lips, but there was an odd look to it. He put a hand on Sam's head. "Do not worry, little hobbit. Not a thing was there. Only a very large cat, whom I have taken care of."
"A cat?!? Must have been a very very large cat!!" Sam exclaimed, unbelieving. He would have challenged the elf's story, but something told him it was best not to. "Seeing as that's over with, I think we should go back to Mr. Bilbo's, like you said."
The elf took another grin and turned toward Bag End, his figure a little stiff. Sam could have sworn he heard him muttering about something that sounded a lot like "paranoid hobbit"...but he wasn't sure, and he did not feel the same friendly light that he had moments before.
Something was very wrong here, and Sam wasn't one to lead Frodo into danger. He looked worriedly at his friend, torn between protecting him and following the elf out of curiosity. Frodo looked at Sam and gave him a weak smile. "We better get going, Mister Frodo," Sam said softly. Frodo nodded in agreement and both followed the path back to Bag End.
A/N: Sesha here say, that was nice chappy, ne? Elf nice, ne? Have no name. Sister will make Sesha make name, but no yet.
Want make Sesha happy?
Press
l
V