The Travelers.

By Gillian

Describing Sunshine.

"It's too hot."

"It's just right."

"Maybe it's too deep."

"I'll be holding him, Merry, not throwing him in."

"I still think it's too hot."

"Where's the soap? It won't sting his eyes will it?"

"Just have the towel ready. No, the softest one."

"I think a wee bit more cold water wouldn't hurt."

"And I think it shouldn't take four hobbits to bathe one baby," Bilbo said, banging his stick on the kitchen flagstones.

Four faces looked over at him in surprise.

"It doesn't," Sam defended, fingers paused unlacing Fael's shirt. "It's just easier with more hands."

Frodo absently sniffed the fine scented soap that had been a gift from the elves. "And we haven't given him more than a good wash since we left Rivendell."

"Not that he's dirty or anything," Merry added, towel draped over one arm. "But the party is tonight so we might as well polish him up."

"I still think the water's a bit too hot," Pippin volunteered.

"It'll be freezing before you get him in," Bilbo grumbled.

"Watch and see how he likes it," Sam said, lifting the naked baby up, supporting his head with one hand and his bottom with the other.

"He hated it the first few times," Frodo confided, washcloths in hand.

Sam lowered him into the water, making a round surprised circle with his lips as Fael's eyes widened. "Yes," he nodded as Fael instinctively kicked against the warmth. "That feels good, doesn't it?"

Fael didn't seem so sure at first, then as Sam sat him on the soft cloth soaking at the bottom of the tub and splashed a little water on his chest he made up his mind. He kicked again and smiled.

"He likes it!" Pippin exclaimed, splashing a little more water on him.

Frodo wet and wrung out a cloth then handed it to Sam.

"First Fael's face," Sam said to the baby hobbit's wide eyes, wiping carefully. Fael screwed up his face and twisted away from the cloth. Sam swirled the washcloth deftly and gently over his face and around to tiny pointed ears. "There, clean as a whistle."

"Where did you learn all this?" Pippin asked, watching in fascination as Frodo handed Sam another cloth and accepted the first one back.

"It's common sense mostly," Frodo told him airily. "And Nestadren gave us some tips."

"The rest you just figure out." Sam leaned the baby forward on one strong hand and washed his back gently.

"You don't have to be a mother to do it either," Frodo said tartly and Sam chuckled under his breath.

"What do you mean?" Merry slanted him a curious glance.

"Frodo's still a bit annoyed at my sister Daisy," Sam explained, sitting Fael back and washing down to his strong little feet.

"What did she do, Frodo?" Pippin asked curiously.

"She was just trying to be helpful," Sam said swiftly and Frodo blew a rude raspberry. Sam chuckled again, shaking his head.

"Interfering more like," Frodo retorted. "She said Fael needed breast milk to thrive, as if we were starving him or something! Then she says, nice as you please, that we better hand Fael over to her, so she can take care of him properly!"

"The cheek!" Merry exclaimed and Frodo huffed agreement.

"That's what I said!"

"She didn't exactly say-" Sam began.

"As if that bonny babe isn't proof enough that we can take care of him!" Pippin said belligerently.

"Could someone hold out the towel then?" Sam said patiently. "Since we're all takin' care of him so well?"

Merry held out the soft towel and Sam laid Fael in his arms. Frodo folded the sides over and Merry sat down and they began to dry him carefully.

"I hope you told her off good and proper, Frodo," Merry said, drying Fael's hands gently while Frodo rubbed his feet.

"She really was only trying to help," Sam said firmly, laying the tub by the wall to be poured out onto the garden in the morning. "Some people might think a babe needs mothering instead of just fathering."

"Frodo might not make milk but that's the only thing a mother has he doesn't," Bilbo maintained loyally and Frodo smiled at his uncle's support.

"That's right," Pippin agreed, measuring powder into the milk jug and stirring it vigorously. "It's love that matters, right? And Fael's got that from all of us."

"I'm pretty sure Daisy saw that for herself before she left." Sam laid out a thick towel and shook out a soft little gown for the baby. "Don't you think, Frodo?"

"I suppose," Frodo admitted reluctantly. "But that doesn't mean your sister can come in here throwing her advice around," he warned.

"Has a few children doesn't she? Daisy Green?" Bilbo recalled.

"Six," Sam corrected.

"Hmm. Time might come, Frodo, when you appreciate some experienced advice."

"Maybe," Merry said, laying Fael on the change towel. "But she better not think about adding Fael to her brood again any time soon."

Frodo slipped the wide neck of the soft little gown over Fael's head. "Where's Fael?" he said, tugging the gown down and smiling into wide blue eyes. "There he is!" Fael waved his hands and Frodo chuckled as he tried to hold one arm still long enough to thread through the sleeve.

"She is his family too," Sam pointed out, folding a nappy into the right shape and laying it out.

"Poor little chap," Bilbo murmured. "These are quite a pair of families he's been born into."

"On the other hand he'll never lack for doting uncles," Frodo said fondly, looking up from his game of peep-bo.

"Or aunts," Sam pointed out.

"Or pocket money," Pippin said practically.

"That's right, Pip." Merry rolled his eyes. "Focus on the important things."

"Fael will think they're pretty important too, one day," Pippin said wisely.

Frodo fastened his nappy and Pippin fixed the teat on the bottle and sat down, arms out.

"Not thriving," he snorted as Fael engulfed the teat and began suckling voraciously. Fael snuffled greedily through his nose and Pip began to laugh and they all joined in, Bilbo's low chuckle chiming.

"Oh yes," Merry observed through his laughter. "Clearly wasting away."

888

Sam stood back with a sigh and surveyed his handiwork. He had yet to figure out why he was doing the dirty work while Merry and Pippin, whose idea this party had been, were off with the ale barrels.

"Just how many folk have been invited anyway?" Tom Cotton asked, dusting his hands.

"Not as many as will come, you can bet on that," Sam retorted, counting the tables they'd just set up in his head.

Tom wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Thirsty work," he said longingly.

"How about first taste of that barrel they're tappin'?" Sam invited with a grin and Tom grinned back.

They were too late for first taste, Merry and Pip were deep into their mugs, along with Bilbo and the hobbits putting up the tents. Frodo was laying out lanterns with Fael in his sling and Sam shaped his hand around Fael's skull, stroking his downy curls where they lay against Frodo's chest. Frodo winked at him and patted the baby's back.

He helped himself to two mugs and Tom took one happily, grinning and nodding at the laughing workers.

"Hope there's not much work left to do," he chuckled. "They look like they're settled in for the day."

"I'm only helpin' out," Sam said, shaking his head. "It's not my party."

"As long as folk show up it'll be a party." Tom took his first sip. "That's a fine brew."

They drank in silence for a few moments.

"You know, Sam," Tom said conversationally. "I may never forgive you."

Sam licked his lips, frowning at his friend. "Me? What did I do?"

"Raised my hopes, that's all. Here was I, resigned to spendin' the next fifty years havin' Sunday dinner with a total whittle like Will Bracegirdle."

"What?" Sam half laughed.

"And then you ride back into the Shire again and I think, well fine. I may end up with a brother-in-law I can actually stand after all."

Sam's laughter died. "Oh."

Tom shot him an amused look over the rim of his mug. "Don't make a face, I'm not about to call you out for breakin' my sister's heart."

"I never meant to," Sam stuttered. "I didn't think she-"

""I said don't panic. I know you and she didn't have an understandin' or anythin'."

"Did she tell you that?"

"Did she heck." Tom chuckled. "D'you think she confides her love life to her big brother? I just know our Rose, and she wouldn't have been walkin' out every Sunday while you were away if you and she had made promises."

"Every Sunday, hey?" Sam marveled.

Tom slanted him a glance. "Is that jealousy?"

"No!" Sam said hastily.

"Pity, bang go my hopes again."

Sam shook his head. "You're still a rogue, Tom Cotton. And you still like pulling my leg."

"Used to be how I had my fun." Tom sighed reminiscently. "Watching you moon over Rose every Saturday night at the Dragon. Sighs hard enough to part a hobbit's hair."

Sam flushed. "I can recall a few lasses you sighed over, Tom, while we're thinkin' on happy times. Aster Banks springs to mind. One summer night in the mushroom woods..."

"All right," Tom said hastily. "No need to rake up old flames."

"Exactly," Sam agreed pointedly.

Tom drained his mug and looked longingly back at the barrel. "I've work to do at home," he said reluctantly.

"You've time for one more though," Sam said temptingly and Tom gave in.

Tom took a deep draught of his new ale and sighed appreciatively. "All jokin' aside, Sam, I wish you and Rose had made a go of it. You should see some of the fellows she's walked out with. You'd make a better brother-in-law than any of them."

Sam raised his mug, touched. "I couldn't have had better in-laws than you and your folks, Tom, and that's the truth. Not sure the ones I have now entirely approve of me."

Sam looked over to where Bilbo was sitting at a bench, directing the hanging of the lanterns. Frodo stood by too, chatting with Pippin, absently jiggling up and down a bit and patting the crying baby's back.

Tom followed his gaze curiously. "So it's true then, about you and Mr. Frodo?"

Sam shot him a glance, unable to tell from his voice what his old friend was thinking.

"It's true."

Tom whistled. "You've fallen on your feet there, old son," he mused. "There's wealth in that family, and plenty of it."

Sam shook his head, laughing despite himself. "Wealth?"

"That house alone would be worth getting wed for, were I the type to attract a well-off lass," Tom went on thoughtfully. "Then there's the gardens and the land."

"Tom!" Sam protested. "I'm not with Frodo for what he owns!"

"Well, I know that," Tom said, rolling his eyes. "I know you, Sam Gamgee, and it wouldn't even have crossed your mind that you're set for life."

"But it's crossed your mind?" Sam asked. He cast a glance around at the laughing workers, the sunny field, his laughter fading "Is that what folks are thinkin' about me? That I'm out for what I can get?"

"Do you really want to know what folk are saying, Sam?" Tom said, face sympathetic. "Some of it's a lot uglier than out for what you can get."

Sam sipped at his mug with a sigh. He'd known it was going to be difficult, but somehow when he was with Frodo it was a lot easier to be strong.

"Don't worry, Sam," Tom said, punching him gently on his arm. "Your friends aren't speaking behind your back, and you still have plenty of them."

Sam looked up into his friend's face. Tom's smile was as genuine as it had always been, his brown eyes were open and clear.

"Mind you, they're wonderin' what's goin' in on your head, Sam," Tom said, scratching his own head in puzzlement. "I've been wonderin' myself! But don't worry about them fools flapping their gums about you. They'll tire of the gossip soon enough and remember everything you and your Frodo did for the Shire."

Sam decided he liked the sound of that. His Frodo. "And you, Tom?" he ventured. "Is it really that easy for you?"

"Easy?" Tom squinted over to where Frodo was standing laughing, his head thrown back. "I was never so surprised in my life as when I heard your news, Sam. I near punched the fellow who passed it on." Tom shook his head. "Not old Sam, I says to meself. Might not have had much nerve with the lasses but it was surely only lasses he looked at growin' up. I should know, I was there."

Sam followed his gaze to Frodo, who was now crooning to Fael and rubbing his back soothingly. The sunshine gleamed in his chestnut curls and his skin shone like a pearl in the light.

"You were," Sam agreed. "But that was a long time ago, Tom. What a long time ago it was."

"It was," Tom said sadly. "A whole lot's changed since then, hasn't it, Sam lad?" Tom sighed and looked beyond Frodo and Fael to the small budded sapling now gracing the party field. "We had some hard times while you were away, some you know and some you might never get to hear about. Some of us learnt some hard lessons."

Sam studied his friend's face curiously. It looked older in the morning light. "Like?"

"Like it don't matter what anyone else thinks, as long as you do what you reckon is right. Like being happy is all that matters, and that's worth holdin' on to. And sometimes you've got to fight for what's worth holdin' on to."

Sam nodded, smiling a little into his ale. "Tom lad, I couldn't have put it better myself."

888

Sam pushed open the door, rubbing his neck with the towel draped around his shoulders. Frodo was standing in front of the round mirror holding up a waistcoat and frowning. He tossed it over a chair back and held up another.

Smiling, Sam pushed the door closed and quietly twisted the key.

"The blue one," he suggested, and Frodo glanced over his shoulder. "It goes with your eyes."

Frodo held it back up and surveyed himself critically. "It's one of my older ones."

"You got it in Minas Tirith," Sam reminded him. He stood behind Frodo and looked over his shoulder into the mirror. "It's not that old."

Frodo grimaced. "It's a little tight," he admitted, laying a hand on his belly. "Here."

Sam rested his chin on Frodo's shoulder. "Well, I'd lend you one of mine but it would definitely be a bit loose." He chuckled. "You either need to lose some weight or gain some," he joked.

Frodo lay his cheek on Sam's head. "That's not funny."

Sam wrapped his arms around Frodo and spread his hands over Frodo's middle. "I like you all soft and round," he whispered. "It reminds me why you have this sweet little tummy."

Frodo squirmed under the caressing hands. "Oh, no you don't," he protested. "We have to get dressed and get Fael ready-"

"Fael is still fast asleep," Sam said, turning Frodo around in the circle of his arms.

"For now," Frodo pointed out, wrapping his arms around Sam's waist. "Remember last night?"

Sam pulled him closer and groaned at the contact. "Oh. I am," he whispered. "That's the problem." He slid his hands down Frodo's back, stroking through the thick material of his dressing gown. "We have time."

Frodo let himself be pushed backwards until he was pressed against the wardrobe door, tilting his head back as Sam nuzzled into his neck.

"It's broad daylight," he protested, but his voice was weaker and his hands slid up to Sam's broad back.

"You like the sunlight," Sam pointed out, pressing a string of kisses like a necklace down to Frodo's throat.

"The door's unlocked," Frodo gasped as Sam stroked his tongue into the hollow of his throat. He spread his legs and Sam pushed in between them, aligning their bodies and pressing into the cradle of his thighs.

"No it's not," Sam informed him. Then he slid his hands down to the back of Frodo's thighs and with a grunt he lifted him and pinned him against the door with his weight.

Thrown off balance Frodo grasped his shoulders and automatically wrapped his legs around Sam's waist, wringing a groan from both of them as his dressing gown pulled open.

"Sam," Frodo moaned. "What are you doing?"

Sam pulled his head back and peered into dazed blue eyes. "If you have to ask then I'm not doin' it right," he panted.

"I mean, there's a bed right there," Frodo said, breath hitching as Sam shifted his hips. He gasped another moan as Sam managed to loosen the tie of his own robe and tug it sideways, so that their naked flesh was pressed together.

"Hmm?" Sam hummed into his neck as his small movements became thrusts, sliding against Frodo's slick warmth with his own.

"Never mind," Frodo moaned, throwing his head back and giving in to it.

Sam grasped handfuls of Frodo's robe and pulled it down, heart racing in time with his thrusts as he kissed pale shoulders and cupped the narrow ribcage, thumbs finding hard nipples and stroking them roughly.

Frodo's hands could only grip Sam's shoulders as he held on, legs locked tightly around sturdy hips as Sam bucked and rocked against him.

Sam felt the quiver that ran through him as Frodo's healthy young body succumbed, shuddering as he pulsed wet warmth between them. The pleasured groans finished Sam off and he moaned his own pleasure against Frodo's shoulder, teeth grazing as he pressed an open mouthed suckling kiss on pale freckles.

Frodo's legs unlocked and Sam slid him down his body until his feet hit the floor, supporting him against the door with the weight of his own panting body.

"Told you we had time," Sam said breathlessly and Frodo could only hum agreement, his cheek stroking like a cat's against the smooth velvet of Sam's dressing gown.

888

Pippin stumbled around the corner and sat on the old stone bench, hands pressed to his burning cheeks. His palms were damp with sweat and he welcomed the coolness on his flushed face as his mind replayed the scene he had just witnessed.

"What are you sitting around for?" Merry asked in exasperation from the gate. "We have dozens of lanterns to hang up and the tables aren't-" he broke off. "What's wrong with you?"

Pippin gazed up at Merry, eyes wide. "I was picking some flowers for the tables," he said breathily.

Merry followed his glance around the side of the house and then back to Pippin's hands, now clenched in his lap. "What flowers?"

"And I heard sounds, and the window was open..." Pippin grimaced. "I didn't mean to spy or anything!"

Merry sat down on the bench, his eyes narrowing. "Spy?" he asked suspiciously.

Pippin looked away and Merry swore under his breath. "Pippin, tell me you didn't peek into Frodo's room?"

"It wasn't peeking!" Pippin defended. "Honestly, Merry, I just looked in for a moment and then..." He shrugged sheepishly. "And then I couldn't look away."

Merry sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I'd like to believe you, Pip, I really would. But since you've spent the last two days obsessed with what Frodo and Sam do in bed together..."

"Shh!" Pippin hushed him frantically, looking around the empty garden. "I am not obsessed," he defended lowly. "I admit I was curious, but I would never spy on Frodo! Besides," he finished more practically. "Who knew they'd be doing anything? It's broad daylight!"

"It is hard to imagine Frodo being that bold," Merry admitted candidly.

"I don't have to imagine it." Pippin's eyebrows rose dramatically. "I saw the whole thing!"

Merry bit his lip, momentary temptation clear in his eyes. "Well, you should just forget the whole thing," he finally managed. "It was none of your business."

"I know," Pippin said, hanging his head. "I should have turned away as soon as I realized what was going on." He thought back to those moments and felt himself getting breathless again. "But, oh, Merry. I understand now, I really do. I could never picture it before, you know, Frodo and Sam. But seeing them together..."

"I know," Merry agreed softly. "I saw them one night when we were camped with the elves. Not the way you saw them!" he continued hastily as Pippin turned curious eyes on him. "Just the two of them leaning on each other, Sam's hands gentle on him." He shook his head. "I'm still not sure I approve of the whole thing, but I can't deny they have something powerful between them."

"Powerful and beautiful," Pippin said wistfully. "Frodo was so pale and Sam was so big and strong next to him. The way they moved against each other..."

"Enough, Pip!" Merry exclaimed, his cheeks flushed.

Pippin hung his head again and Merry sighed and patted him on the shoulder as he stood back up. "Maybe now you can stop thinking about it all so much and get on helping me with this party? Everyone will be arriving in an hour and we'll all be sitting around in the dark unless we get these last lanterns strung."

"All right," Pippin agreed, standing up. He cast another look back around the house, wondering what had happened after he finally managed to tear himself away. Merry was standing by the gate waiting for him and Pippin flashed him an automatic smile. The other hobbit just shook his head and walked away, but Pippin barely noticed.

His mind was racing.

888

Sam lay back on the bed, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "Bother Merry and Pippin," he grumbled. "All I want is a quiet evening by the fire and an early night."

Frodo shook out Fael's tiny shirt and laid it out neatly. "You'll enjoy yourself once you get there," he said absently, lifting out a small pair of britches and holding them up. "Do you think he needs these? That shirt is still a bit long on him."

"You could put on one of the gowns Daisy gave him," Sam said carelessly, closing his eyes and settling back on the pillow. He started up as Frodo threw the little britches at him and they draped over his face.

"If you even think about falling asleep after you've made us late," Frodo threatened. "Then the next thing I tip on your head will be the vase."

"All right." Sam swung his feet off the bed and tightened his robe. "I'm up, all right?" He looked around the room. "What should I wear?"

Frodo rolled his eyes. "I have to dress myself and Fael," he said pointedly. "Do I have to dress you too?"

Sam smothered a laugh and stood up with a pleasurable stretch. "Remind me next time I fancy an afternoon tumble that it does nothin' for your mood," he retorted.

Frodo blew out a breath and smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry, Sam," he said, sitting back down on his dressing chair with a bump. "I'm a bit nervous about tonight, that's all."

Sam opened the wardrobe and pulled out the first shirt he put his hand on. "Why? Your closest family is right here and on our side already. Is there really anyone else here whose opinion you care for?"

"No, but there are folk you care about," Frodo said softly. "I'd hate if what we have together came between you and those you love, Sam."

Sam paused and looked over at him, his eyes soft. "It won't," he promised. "Da will bluster and shout, believe me, he's not done with me over this yet. But in the end he'll stand by us."

"You seem very sure," Frodo said doubtfully.

"Trust me, I know my dad," Sam said, voice confident. "Doesn't mean he won't make me work for it, mind. Daisy too. There's a lass who likes to think she's the only one as can make things happen. Boxed my ears so hard the first time we come home my head was ringin' for a week. But mad as she might get at me, she'd fight to the death to protect me and those I love."

Sam pulled out a jacket and hugged it to him. "Didn't we go through all this afore we ever left Rivendell? You sorry now we've come home so open like?"

"No," Frodo denied instantly. "Of course not. But Rivendell was so far away, making the decision was easy. Now we're here and have to face everybody..."

Sam studied him. "What's the worst as could happen?" he asked reasonably.

"Well let's see, we get shunned by our friends and neighbors," Frodo said thoughtfully. "Cold silences when we drink at the Dragon, mud slung at us in the road..."

Sam had to laugh, shaking his head in amazement. "You've been readin' too many of them elf books," he accused. "Full of sad tales and princes what take offence if someone farts out of place."

Frodo huffed a small chuckle.

Sam shook his head again. "Let me tell you the worst as could happen," he said patiently. "Folk'll smile and nod to our faces and whisper behind their hands as we walk on. Fools like Will Bracegirdle or Young Odo will get a few ales down their necks and make loud comments about what we do behind closed doors. And maybe, if we're real unlucky, we might get some bold soul come to lecture us about the error of our ways, although to tell you true I can't think of any offhand who'd have the nerve to knock on the door to Bag End to do it. If we was living in some little hole on The New Row, maybe."

Frodo was listening hard. "You really think that's all there will be to it?"

"What do you mean all?" Sam demanded. "I can feel my blood boil already thinkin' on how some of those sneers will go. Trust me, it won't be fun or easy being laughed at, even if most folks have the decency to do it behind our backs."

Frodo's cheeks flushed a little. "You think folks will sneer?"

Sam sighed. "We're different, Frodo, just plain different. And folks don't like what's different. Laughin' at it is just one way to make themselves feel better over it."

"The way they did when I first moved here," Frodo recalled. "I was a strange foreigner, and a lot of folk made jokes behind my back, when they thought I couldn't hear them."

"And a few when they knew you could," Sam said sadly. "I know. That's why I have a good idea of how it will go with us. I was there, love, when you first arrived and folks tried to run you down." Sam's hands clenched into fists at the memory. "I was too young to know what to do about it all, but it sure made me mad. And it made me feel real bad that they was hurtin' your feelin's so."

"Dear, Sam," Frodo said with a soft smile. "You've always been my champion, haven't you?"

"I don't know about that," Sam said hastily, cheeks reddening. He fussed about pulling out a pair of britches.

Frodo stood determinedly. "They can't hurt my feelings now," he said firmly. "If you can bear it I can too."

"That's my lad," Sam said huskily. "It'll be a nine days wonder, you'll see. And maybe it won't even be so bad. Some things Tom said made me think maybe the Shire's changed a bit after all the troubles. Perhaps folk will be a bit more acceptin' now?"

"Perhaps," Frodo agreed. He focused on the britches Sam was holding. "You can't wear them," he declared. "Or that jacket. The dark green one is your best, with the mustard waistcoat."

Sam obediently hung the britches back up, hiding his smile.

"I'm going to have to wake Fael," Frodo said reluctantly. "I hope it doesn't make him grumpy. I don't want him grizzling all night."

Sam dressed quickly while Frodo eased Fael out of his basket and held him against his chest, kissing his soft pink cheek lovingly.

"Wake up, my baby," he crooned into the little pointed ear. "We want to get you all dressed up in your finery. Make folk jealous that we have the handsomest lad in the whole world."

Fael snuffled and snorted awake, his face screwing up into a grimace. Frodo was ready with the tip of his finger and Fael latched on and nursed absently for a moment, the familiar motion soothing his fretful waking. His little face smoothed out and he fluttered his lashes and yawned around Frodo's finger.

"His elvish shirt?" Sam asked, buttoning his waistcoat.

"Yes," Frodo said, laying him Fael back on the bed and unlacing his little gown at the neck. "And that silvery bonnet with the acorns embroidered on it."

"You really do want to impress," Sam observed, hunting up the little cap and admiring it. "Still, he might as well wear it while it fits."

Frodo pulled the nightgown over the baby's head, smiling down into Fael's blinking eyes. "Peep-bo!" he exclaimed and Fael blinked again and then smiled. "He is growing fast. He must weigh almost twice as much as he did when he was born."

"Not quite yet," Sam said knowledgeably. "But soon enough. "We should weigh him tomorrow, I'll ask Daisy tonight to look out her scales for us."

"Good idea," Frodo said, pinning the fresh napkin in place and holding out his hand for the shirt. "Better get him a bib too, just to be on the safe side."

Sam found a crisp white one with a blue bird embroidered on the front and handed it over.

Frodo was pulling the shirt over Fael's head and lacing it deftly. "Almost fits," he smiled into wide blue eyes. "You must be just about as big now as an elf baby is when born, Fael."

Fael's clutched at the soft fabric, cooing bubbles at the feel of it under his fingers. Frodo fit the little cap on his golden curls and sat him up, hands holding him in place while his nodding head steadied itself. "There you are, my lad," he said proudly, and he lifted Fael high and held him out to admire.

"What a handsome hobbit!" Sam exclaimed.

Frodo paced to the mirror and Sam followed him, wrapping one arm around his waist as Frodo held Fael to his heart.

"What a handsome family," Frodo said in satisfaction.

888

"Sit down, lads," Bilbo said, waving to the kitchen chairs.

"We're going to be late," Frodo began.

"How can you be late to your own party?" Bilbo pointed out. "Sit down, sit down, I want to have a few words with you."

Sam raised a curious brow at Frodo but obediently sat down.

"I've been thinking a lot lately about the last time I returned to the Shire after a long time away. Noticing how some things have changed and some things are very much the same." Bilbo shook his head reminiscently, his eyes growing distant. "Your lad there will grow up in a different world than I did, and maybe even different from the one you both did. But then I grew up in a different Shire from my old father's so maybe that's always true, I don't know." The old hobbit sighed.

Frodo exchanged a glance with Sam and risked getting a word in. "Are you all right, Bilbo?"

Bilbo gave him an offended look. "Of course I am. If you'd listen without interrupting you'd know that. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. When I came back from my journey, long ago, it was to find I'd lost a lot of standing in the community. Suddenly I wasn't as respected as I once was, can you credit it? As if a few adventures make a chap disreputable."

"You wrote in your book that you didn't care what folks thought of you," Sam reminded him.

"And so I didn't, for the most part," Bilbo said firmly. Then his proud look faded and he seemed a little older and sadder all of a sudden. "For the most part," he said more quietly. "But to tell you the truth there were a few friends I was sorry to lose, a few relations I thought might have given me the benefit of the doubt. Why, Frodo, there were even some folk who thought I shouldn't take you in, rascal that I was!"

"They were wrong," Frodo told him, reaching out and gripping a frail old hand. "You taking me in was the best thing that ever happened to me."

Bilbo gripped his hand back tightly. "I'm glad to hear you say that," he said hoarsely. "After everything that happened I wondered if..." He cleared his throat and squeezed Frodo's hand again before letting it go. "It's too early for such sentiment," he said gruffly. "What I'm trying to say is that some folk out there are going to be your friends, no matter what you do. But that some folk just aren't. And it's no good breaking your hearts over the ones who turn against you, lads."

"We do understand that, Uncle," Frodo assured him.

"You think you do," Bilbo said mildly, then he waved his hand. "Oh, forget I said anything. Just you two stick together and you'll be fine. So, what exactly are we telling folk about Fael?"

"The truth," Sam said simply. "If anyone asks whose son he is..."

"They will," Bilbo interrupted.

"Then we tell them. He is our son."

"Hmm," Bilbo said skeptically. "And if they ask for details? We were there, we know how it was, but it might be a bit more difficult for simpler folk to accept the whole truth."

"He's right, Frodo," Merry said from the doorway. He and Pip stood side by side. "For Fael's sake if no other reason. It might be best if we kept some of it back."

"The part about you being pregnant he means," Pippin said helpfully.

"I'm not ashamed of it," Frodo began.

"Course you're not," Bilbo said scornfully. "We here know that, none better. And Merry and Pip weren't even lucky enough to see you carrying him, which would convince anyone."

"I wish I had," Pippin said wistfully.

"That wasn't our fault," Merry muttered.

"We don't want to lie about any of this," Sam said unhappily. "But to be honest I can see your point. I meant to tell my dad the other day but I just couldn't get the right words out." He shrugged awkwardly.

"You might get away with your living arrangements as time goes by," Bilbo pressed. "But if the whole truth comes out it's little Fael who will bear the burden, his whole life."

Frodo tightened his arms around his son, laying his cheek on downy curls. "He's my son," Frodo said softly. "And Sam's too. How can we say otherwise?"

"Don't," Pippin said swiftly. "Why don't you just tell everybody a smaller part of the truth? He's a gift from the elves, to heal you, Frodo."

"Folk will want to know more," Sam said doubtfully.

"Let them!" Bilbo said grandly. "Just look mysterious and talk in hushed tones about elven magic."

"That would convince me," Pippin agreed.

Merry stroked his chin thoughtfully. "It could work," he said. He frowned at Pippin. "If everyone keeps their mouths shut."

Pip widened his eyes. "Don't look at me! I can keep a secret."

Sam looked at Frodo. "What do you think?"

Fael was shifting sleepily in his arms and Frodo cupped his little head gently and gazed down into his face. Great blue eyes were blinking up at him, sleep creased cheeks curving as he yawned. Frodo couldn't help smiling tenderly down into that innocent little face. What did it matter what they had to say to keep him safe? As long as neither of them had to deny him.

"You're right," he said decisively. "And it is the truth after all."

"Then let's get this party started!" Bilbo exclaimed, climbing to his feet and leaning on his stick.

888

"Frodo, let me take Fael?" Pippin said as they made their way down the lane.

"I want to carry him into the party," Frodo protested, fending him off.

"You're going to need your arms free," Pippin said and Frodo paused and narrowed his eyes at him.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"It's a surprise," Merry told him and Frodo glanced from him to Pip and then to Sam.

"Don't look at me," Sam said hastily, raising his hands in denial. "I don't know nothin' about any surprise."

"What have you done?"

"If we told you it wouldn't be a surprise," Pippin said, reaching for the baby again.

"I'll take him," Sam said, plucking Fael from Frodo's arms. "I'm not sure I trust one of your surprises."

"Can we get there already?" Bilbo said in exasperation.

Frodo allowed himself to be led by Pippin while Merry lent Bilbo his arm and Sam carried the baby in one arm and his basket hooked over the other. They could hear the laughter and song from the Party Field as they approached, and see the shimmering of the lanterns in the trees.

"That looks like a lot more lanterns than I put up," Frodo said, looking around suspiciously for the surprise. He didn't have long to wait. Music paused as they walked into the midst of the party and then suddenly they were surrounded by hobbits.

"Welcome home!" they all shouted and Frodo gasped in shock as he made out face after familiar face.

"Mosco! Moto!" Stunned he looked around at his family, folk he hadn't seen in years. "Angelica! Sancho!" He turned dazed eyes on a grinning Merry. "How did you do this? We've only been home three days!"

"We sent a message off at the first farm we stopped at when we crossed the border into the Shire!" Pippin burst out proudly.

"We only had to send one message," Merry said with a wink. "And this helpful fellow here arranged the rest." He stepped aside revealing a new figure and Frodo's surprise melted into pure joy.

"Freddy!"

Fatty Bolger stepped out with a grin and pulled Frodo into a rough hug.

"Frodo, dear chap," Fatty said, his eyes full of tears. "How dare you go haring off into the wide world again!"

"That's what we said, Freddy," Pippin said, hanging off Fatty's shoulder. "Without even asking us to come along!"

"As if you would have come," Frodo reminded him, his heart light at seeing his old friend. "You like to stay close to home."

"And he needed feeding up," Merry said from his other shoulder, patting Freddy's ample girth.

"Had to make up for lost time." Fatty beamed and they all chuckled.

"Did you know about this, Bilbo?" Frodo turned to his cousin then had to chuckle at the sight. Poppy Bolger was clinging to Bilbo's neck, sobbing onto his shoulder. Bilbo's eyebrows were raised in dismay as Poppy alternately welcomed him and scolded him for his long absence. "I suppose not," Frodo concluded.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck you'll pay for this," Bilbo threatened as Poppy was gently prised away by Freddy. Almost immediately another relative flung themselves on his neck and Bilbo gave up and submitted to the tearful hug.

"Well you would disappear on us," Freddy teased.

"Literally," Merry reminded him.

Frodo's eyes sought Sam and he smiled as he saw him surrounded by his own relatives, feeling a little jealous at the sight of them cooing and clucking at Fael over Sam's broad shoulder.

"I need a drink!" Bilbo called and everyone around roared agreement.

Drinks were dispensed and Frodo clutched his mug, grateful as conversations began between relatives. He pushed through the crowd towards Sam, smiling and nodding his greetings as he was slapped on the beck.

"Made it," he gasped and Sam pushed out a bench for him to sink onto.

"So much for a small party," Sam said, patting Fael on the back. The baby was grizzling a little and Frodo reached out and straightened his bonnet. "He's getting hungry, poor lamb."

"He's never been around so many people either," Frodo agreed, pulling the basket towards him and rummaging for a bottle.

"Frodo!" Merry said, sinking onto the bench next to him. "Why have you snuck away? There's family you haven't hugged yet."

"Fael's hungry. Besides, we have all night for hugs." He glanced over at Sam. "You really didn't know about this?"

"Of course not," Merry jumped in. "As if we'd trust Sam to keep a secret from you!"

Sam accepted the bottle and pressed the teat to Fael's eager lips. Instantly the baby latched on and began to nurse blissfully. "You're right there," he agreed. "I'm not one for surprises myself."

Merry made a face. "Why doesn't that surprise me? Do come, Frodo, make the rounds."

"I'll be along in a minute."

"You really were surprised, weren't you?" He grinned and Frodo smiled back.

"Stunned. Thank you, cousin."

Merry stood up as the music began to play once more. "Glad you liked it." He turned away then spun back. "By the way, some of the family are staying at Bag End tonight, I knew you wouldn't mind."

"What?" Frodo looked at the dozen or so Baggins and Boffins and Tooks and Brandybucks. "How many?"

Merry shrugged carelessly. "Not sure," he said, backing away and beginning to sway to the music. "There's plenty of room, especially if we double up."

Sam looked up from the feeding. "What?"

Merry winked and spun away.

"Doubling up?" Sam said to Frodo.

"I'll take care of it," he promised. Frodo peered over at Fael as Sam pulled the bottle away and patted the baby's back gently. "I'd better go hug some aunts," he began, but before he could stand the party had moved to them.

"Is this the newest Baggins I've been hearing about?"

"Hello Aunt Peony," Frodo said, standing and submitting to a peck on the cheek.

"Another golden haired babe," his aunt said disapprovingly. "Seems to be the fashion these days."

"It's elf magic, Peony," Pearl Took said, leaning over Sam's shoulder. "Who's a pretty little lad then?" she cooed.

"Oh, magic," Peony sniffed. "It's all I hear about these days."

"Wouldn't have had such a fine year without it," Daisy Green said from across the table and Peony stared at her in outrage.

"We've had fine years before," she said, eyebrows raised. "Anyway, elf magic or not at least he's got the Baggins face on him, that's something."

"Much more Took to me," Pearl said thoughtfully. "Like our Frodo here."

"More Brandybuck to my eyes," Beri Brandybuck interjected and Frodo blew out a sigh.

Sam finished feeding Fael and the hobbitling drained the bottle and was carefully burped again.

"I think you'll find," Daisy said from across the table. "That's a Gamgee chin you're looking at."

"Here we go," Sam murmured, taking the cloth Frodo handed him and wiping Fael's chin.

"You're joking, lass," Beri said patronizingly. "That's a Baggins."

"Gamgee," Marigold Gamgee interjected at her sister's shoulder.

"Actually," Sam said firmly. "His name is Traveler. Fael Traveler. Like his parents."

Daisy frowned across the table. "You've changed your name, Sam?"

"We both have," Frodo said.

"And what was wrong with the Baggins name?" his aunt demanded.

"A new name for new times, Peony," Bilbo said, putting a hand to Frodo's shoulder and one to Sam's. "Budge up, lads, make room for an old hobbit. Maybe if I squeeze in between you two I won't get my neck hugged again by every weeping relative between here and Bree."

Frodo relaxed a little as his uncle patted his shoulder. He cast a glance at Sam who shrugged ruefully. So much for taking anything their families could throw at them. Still, he hadn't expected to face virtually every relative he had tonight. He was beginning to understand why Sam disliked surprises so much.

"Now what's everyone getting so excited about?" Bilbo said genially. "Beri, fill my mug for me, there's a good lad. Sam's is empty as well."

Beri took the two mugs reluctantly and trotted off to the barrels of ale.

"Everyone's just admiring the new baby, Bilbo," Peony simpered. "Who do you think he looks like?"

"Oh, babies all look the same to me," Bilbo said airily. "But tell me, Peony, how's that rascal husband of yours? Is he here?"

"Check under the ale barrel," Pearl giggled and Peony glowered at her.

"Coming to dance, Frodo?" Pippin said, swinging over and tousling Frodo's hair.

"I think I'll eat first," Frodo said carefully. "Shall I get you a plate, Sam?"

"Please." Sam glanced around and dropped his voice. "Don't go too far, all right?"

Frodo suppressed a smile and patted his shoulder.

"That sounded like an interesting discussion." Freddy was leaning against the food table and Frodo smiled at him as he began to fill two plates. "Did I hear right? You've changed your name?"

"That's the least of the changes since I saw you last, Freddy." Frodo studied his friend and cousin. "You look a lot better than you did back then, old friend."

"Look who's talking!" Freddy exclaimed. I must admit to some concern when Merry began telling me what you'd been up to. But a chap would have to be blind not to see you're as well as can be." He cast a glance over his shoulder to where Sam sat, downing an ale while Pippin cradled Fael in his arms. "I wish you'd told me you were going off again, Fro. Joking aside I'd have come with you like a shot."

"Would you, Freddy?" Frodo said gratefully. "I'm sorry it was all done so quickly."

"I forgive you," Freddy said generously, helping himself to a plate. "I don't think Merry has yet, mind."

"We must all get together after the relatives have gone home. I want you to meet my son." Frodo smiled proudly. "And get to know Sam better."

"Not just as a servant you mean?"

Frodo turned and faced his cousin squarely. "Sam was never just anything, Freddy," he said quietly. "We share our lives now, Sam and I. I hope you can accept that."

Freddy slid a slice of pie onto his plate and then straightened. "The way Merry has?"

There was a cheer from the stage and the hobbits turned and saw Pippin join the band and pick up a rebec. He began to strum and the rest of the band cheered and joined in.

"That show off Took," Freddy said fondly. "I'd better finish this or I'll miss asking all the prettiest girls for a dance." He winked at Frodo and turned to walk away.

"Freddy?" Frodo called.

"Later, Fro," Freddy said, waving his fork over his shoulder. "We'll talk later."

Frodo watched him go, a trickle of unease down his spine. After Merry and Pippin and Bilbo, Freddy was the closest family and friend he had. Was it possible that he could lose his old friend over this?

He made his way back to the table and put the laden plate in front of Sam, feeling his own appetite diminish. Fael was laying in his basket, kicking his legs and waving his arms vigorously.

"He's back in a good mood now that his belly is full," Sam said, reaching for his fork with an appreciative sigh. "This all looks great."

Frodo took a bite of pie, letting Fael grab one of his fingers absently.

"So that was a turn up for the books, hey?" Sam said around a mouthful. "Here I was worried our families wouldn't accept him and now they're fighting over him."

"I wouldn't read too much into that from my side of the family," Frodo said. "They'd fight over a teapot if they thought someone else wanted it."

Sam snorted a laugh and Frodo relaxed. It was always so easy here at Sam's side. Much as he loved his family it was even easier when it was just the three of them, his new little family alone.

"Kind of makes you homesick for Rivendell, doesn't it?" Sam said lowly and Frodo huffed a laugh.

"You can read my mind like a book, Sam," he admired.

"No, just your face," Sam returned. "Fatty Bolger had a thing or two to say to you, I reckon."

"It's more what he didn't say." Frodo tried another forkful of pie and decided it was pretty good. "I think we've been spoiled so far with our close family, Sam. They've all accepted us."

"Well, I don't know as that's entirely true." Sam took a sip of ale. "The way I see it your family is just glad you're alive, and who could help but love Fael? Me bein' involved is somethin' they're all still chewin' over." He paused thoughtfully. "Except maybe Pippin. Say what you like about that lad, he's not one to hide his feelin's."

"But you think Bilbo and Merry are?" Frodo asked seriously, remembering what Freddy had said about Merry.

"Well I haven't noticed Mr. Bilbo hiding much of anythin'," Sam allowed. "But you can't tell me he wouldn't have been just as happy if that spell had been cast and we'd gone back to the way things were. Or at least how they think they were."

Frodo thought about it while he finished his plate. "I suppose it's too much for them to understand," he said softly, eyes on the dancing crowd. "That going back didn't come into it." He titled his head and looked at Sam. "That where we are now isn't so very different from where we were then."

Sam let Fael's other hand grasp his finger and then looked up into Frodo's eyes. "Maybe we didn't explain it very well," Sam agreed. "That when we set out to make our baby it was with love. That we couldn't have made him at all if we hadn't loved one another all along."

Frodo nodded. "And that all the rest was just inevitable."

"You think that?" Sam asked curiously. "That we were bound to fall in love, even without making Fael?"

"I hope that's true." Frodo let his hand stroke against Sam's. "I can't imagine it not being true."

Sam smiled, his eyes creasing at the corners and Frodo's heart melted all over again. "I'm thinkin'," he murmured.

"Hmm?"

"I'm thinkin' I'm awfully glad I made us late this evenin'."

Frodo felt his cheeks flush with remembered pleasure. "You are?"

"Uh huh," Sam nodded. "Especially if we're goin' to be doublin' up tonight."

Frodo snickered into his mug.

"Here, I'll get us another," Sam offered, and Frodo drained his ale and handed the mug over. He tickled Fael and stroked his chin while he watched Sam stand in line at the huge barrel. Then he frowned as he saw Sam's back stiffen and his head swing around. Young Odo Proudfoot was leaning against the barrel, mug in hand, laughing loudly. Frodo watched in concern as Sam turned his head pointedly and stepped up to the barrel. He tensed, but Sam merely filled the mugs and made his way back to the table.

"That barrel's emptyin' fast," Sam observed as he sat back down.

"Sam?" Frodo began, and then paused. If Sam wanted him to know what had just happened he would tell him.

"Hmm?"

Frodo asked another question. "What about your family? What do they think of me?"

Sam drank deep and then wiped his mouth. "Honest, love? I don't know for sure. Can't imagine it'll be much different from yours though." He shot Frodo a glance. "Give 'em time," he counseled. "All of them."

"Yes," Frodo agreed, and then Merry was there again.

"Are you done eating yet?" he said impatiently. "I don't think I can hold the family off any longer. Unless you want them descending on you again..."

"I'll do my duty," Frodo said hastily. "They've got to be easier one or two at a time, right?"

"You keep telling yourself that," Merry advised. "Sam, do you want me to take Fael for a while? I can put him in the sling if you'd like?"

"Maybe later," Sam said. "If you slow down with that ale."

"This is only my second!" Merry protested.

"I've only had one, Sam!" Pippin said, dancing over. "I can hold him when you want a break."

"Nice playin', Pippin," Sam admired and Pip preened.

"I've been practicing," he admitted.

"Every night," Merry confirmed with a groan and then yelped and darted away as Pippin went for his ear.

"My family," Frodo said with a bow.

888

"Master Hamfast," Bilbo called. "We haven't said hello yet." He extended his hand and Ham took it and shook it firmly. "Sit down then, sit down," Bilbo invited. "You've got a few years before you catch up with me, Ham, but I'm sure your legs could do with the weight being taken off them."

"Aye, the old knees play me up a bit, when the wind blows cold," the gaffer admitted, sitting down and planting his tankard firmly on the table. He watched the dancers for a few minutes, supping his ale. "So, what do you think of all this foolishness then? Name changes and such like."

"Can't say I was happy Frodo dropped Baggins," Bilbo said candidly, smiling and raising his mug in a toast as someone hailed him. "But he's old enough to make up his own mind."

"And at least he wasn't changing it to Gamgee?" Ham said, casting him a wry look over the lip of his tankard.

Bilbo snorted. "That thought did occur to me."

"No disrespect, Mr. Bilbo, but you sure left some trouble behind you when you left!"

"No disrespect taken, Ham," Bilbo shot back. "But if you're trying to lay the blame for this on me-"

"Who else should I be blaming?" Ham said reasonably. "Let me teach him how to read, Master Hamfast. Boy's got a good mind on him, Master Hamfast, be a shame to waste it. Pah!" Ham shook his head. "Look where all that led? Elves and quests and spells. You and your darn dragons!"

"I don't see what dragons have to do with this," Bilbo said mildly. "And you were the one encouraging the boys to spend time together when I adopted Frodo. What did you think was going to happen?"

"Well not this," Ham said, indicating the whole party with a broad sweep of his arm. "I thought I was makin' the boy's future, ensurin' him a place as young Mr. Frodo's gardener same as I was yours."

Bilbo huffed a sour laugh. "This isn't exactly the future I envisaged for my lad either, Ham. But I can't complain too loudly, seeing as how he wouldn't have a future if not for Sam."

"But it don't set right with you either?" Ham said searchingly and Bilbo shrugged.

"Let's just say I wouldn't have been so worried if they'd just cast that spell and gone on with their lives It was the falling in love that did it."

"Love," the gaffer said, rolling his eyes. "Is that what they're calling it?"

"Oh don't doubt it, Hamfast," Bilbo warned him. "Their feelings for each other were forged long before they made that baby together."

"I knew it!" Ham said, slamming his tankard on the table. "I knew it was more than just some elf spell. As if I didn't recognize Mr. Frodo's eyes looking up at me from my grandson's face! Bloody elves."

"They just cast the spell, it was Frodo and Sam that made it work. And like I said none of that would be a problem if they'd been able to make it and move on." Bilbo shook his head.

"And how was that going to happen?" Ham appealed. "There was no parting them the first time they got back. They was putting Bag End back together for the pair of them to move into, nice as you please. Never thinking how that might look to folk."

"I don't supposed it ever occurred to them seeing as how there wasn't anything going on between them back then."

"Know that for a fact do you?"

"I do," Bilbo said firmly. "Although knowing the two of them as I do now I doubt it would have stayed that way for long. The need for an elven spell might have bought them together, but I reckon it was only a matter of time anyway. Something binds those two lads together now. You can almost see it..."

"I saw it," Ham admitted reluctantly. "I was here to see it, unlike you. My Sam come back with his head full of ideas above his station and his eyes older than they should have been." The old hobbit sniffed and turned his head away. "I don't know what he saw and did in all his travels, I just know that it changed him. I don't know him any more."

Bilbo squeezed one old hand then tapped it smartly. "Don't talk nonsense, Hamfast! Sam's still your lad, even if he has grown up a bit more than he should have had to. And look at those eyes again, old fellow. It's only contentment you'll see now."

The gaffer sniffed and took a gulp of his ale. "He did seem a bit more settled, with his son in his arms." He gazed down into the dregs of his drink. "I'm that worried for him, Mr. Bilbo. For all of them come to that. My grandson too."

"I know," Bilbo said quietly, turning his own head away now and surveying the crowd. "But we can't live their lives for them, Ham. We must trust them."

"Not leaving us much choice, are they?" Ham heaved a sigh. "Another ale?"

Bilbo drained his mug and pushed it across the table. "Please."

888

Relatives were kissed, growing children were admired and tales were exchanged. Frodo checked back with Sam occasionally, watching as his friends and relatives clustered around him. He found Bilbo and sat gratefully next to him, wondering when he had lost his taste for parties. Right now he just wanted to be back in Bag End behind closed doors. Pippin brought Fael back when he started his tired grizzle and Frodo tugged him out of his sling and cradled him against his shoulder.

"There there," he soothed. "Ready for your bed, Fael?"

"Your baby's crying." Frodo looked down at a youngster he recognized as one of Daisy's brood.

"He's tired," Frodo said with a smile, leaning over as she stood on her tip toes to look at him.

"Nearly time for your bedtime too, button," her aunt Marigold said, tugging her bonnet.

"My sister Holly has golden curls as well," Bluebell said proudly. "My mam says she's a wonder. Where's his mam?"

Silence spread out from around him as curious folk caught the words and paused in their conversations, dozens of pointed ears flapping.

"He doesn't have one," Frodo said to her wide eyes. "He was a gift from the elves." He rocked the fussing baby and Fael quieted a little more. "And from your Uncle Sam," he finished simply.

"I usually just give flowers myself," Tom Cotton quipped from behind him and folk around chuckled.

"Since when did you ever pick me flowers, Tom Cotton?" Marigold Gamgee demanded indignantly.

"Oops, Tom," someone teased. "Must have been one of those other lasses."

"It better not have been," Marigold huffed, arms crossed.

"Seems a strange gift, Frodo," Freddy said flatly.

"You know the elves," Bilbo interjected. "It's all moonlight and magic to them. Create a life to save another life! Who ever heard of such a thing?"

"Not I," Freddy said thoughtfully. He gave Frodo a strange look. "Don't hold with magic spells myself."

"Me either," Bilbo agreed. "But as it was magic that made young Frodo ill, seems only right it should be magic that made him well again."

"That's sense," Tom agreed, and folk up and down the table nodded.

888

Daisy helped herself to a plateful of cake and another mug of ale and sat down, blowing one sandy curl out of her eye. "Not a bad do," she observed, surveying her laden plate with satisfaction. "Considering the short notice."

"I wouldn't have come at all if my Rory hadn't dragged me along," May said, turning her nose up at the sight of Daisy's plate.

"I don't mind the party," Marigold said, forking down a mouthful of tart. "But I can't say I'm pleased at our Sam showing us up like this. And did you hear Mr. Frodo talkin' to your Bell? Gift from the elves and our Sam! What a thing to say!"

"Oh I've been hearin' about it," May said bitterly. "I ask you, did you ever hear the like? Elf spells makin' babies. I blame Sam. I'm sure it never occurs to him, selfish beast that he is, that this all reflects on us." She laid her hand on her pregnant belly. "My children will have to grow up with gossip flyin' about this so called cousin of theirs."

Marigold nodded vigorously, her reddish curls bobbing. "Think how it is for me," she pointed out. "When Tom and I wed Rosie Cotton will be my family. I have to look her in the face for years knowin' how cruelly she's been let down." Marigold looked right and left then lowered her voice. "And for another lad too. How embarrassing."

"That's exactly right, Marigold," May said self righteously. "This reflects on us all."

"I don't recall you all worryin' about reflectin' when it was glory shinin' your way," Daisy said conversationally, taking another sip of brew.

May clicked her tongue and Marigold blushed.

"That's right, you were swannin' around here then, weren't you? My brother the big hero, saved the Shire, plantin' magic trees with elf dust."

"That was different," Marigold protested.

"Because it was something you approved of?" Daisy challenged. "That makes no nevermind here, Marigold Gamgee, and Gamgee you still are until Tolman Cotton is foolish enough to give you his name."

"Daisy!" Marigold protested indignantly.

"You think on, lass," Daisy said. "Sam is our family and we stands by our family, understand?"

"You saying you approve of this whole thing, Daisy?" May challenged.

"Makes no difference whether I will or nill," Daisy said firmly. "It's our Sam's choice and that's all we have to know about it."

"That's just like you," May said bitterly. "You were makin' the biggest noise last year when he up and left again, and here you are defendin' him. Well I don't see anythin' worth defendin' here. Movin' into some fine house with his bed mate! Bringin' some poor little babe into the middle of it!"

Daisy's face softened as May grew more upset. "Calm down, lass," she advised. "It's not good for your wee'un."

May's face tightened. "And what about what's good for Sam's baby? Stories about elf magic flying around, it's all wrong. Magic shouldn't make babies, and two lads have no right to do something so reckless and selfish!"

Marigold looked alarmed now too. She laid a hand on her sister's arm. "Steady on there, May. Daisy is right, you need to worry about your own baby."

May stood up, her bench tipping and righting behind her. "Let me worry about my baby," she said fiercely, hands on her belly. She cast a look around and shook her head at them. "You stay here and pretend you approve of this when everyone in the Shire is staring and whispering. I'll not stay and be some spectacle." She turned and stamped away and Daisy put a hand on her sister's arm when she would have risen to follow her.

"Let her be," she counseled. "Our May has a few things to work out in her head before she can listen to her heart over this. And you, miss," she said ominously, turning a look on her sister.

Marigold quelled.

"I don't want to hear one word against Sam outside the family, understand?"

"But, Daisy," Marigold protested. "Tom-"

"One word!"

Marigold stuck out her lower lip. "Yes, Daisy."

888

"Sam," Frodo murmured. "I'm just nipping home for a cup of tea and to give Fael a break from the noise."

"Want me to come with you?"

Frodo looked over his shoulder and smiled. "I think someone's been waiting to have a quiet word with you, love."

Sam twisted around and saw his father staring at him. "Oh dear."

Frodo squeezed his arm. "Remember what you said before? He might give you a hard time but he'll be on your side."

"Is that what I said?"

Frodo squeezed his arm again and left him to it.

The gaffer strolled over. "Enjoying your party?" he asked casually.

"So far. You?"

"Passable, passable," the gaffer allowed. He reached into his waistcoat pocket. "I've a present for you, Sam." He handed over a leather pouch.

Sam took it and stroked the design stamped on it. "It's fine, da," he said huskily. "Just fine."

"Bring it along tomorrow and I'll put your new initials on it," Ham offered. "Not that I approve, mind." He pulled out his own pipe. "But what can't be cured must be endured, as my old father used to say. Have a smoke with me, lad."

"Yes, da." Sam untied the pouch, sniffing the contents appreciatively. "Your best mix!"

"Aye." Ham puffed comfortably while Sam lit his pipe.

Sam watched his father's eyes narrow against the smoke. They watched the party and the dancers, everything but him. He sighed. "You got something to say, da? Fael isn't here between us now, speak up."

"Don't I always?" Ham looked directly at Sam now. "Where do I start? How about you and Mr. Frodo, that's where it all began, isn't it?"

"I reckon it is."

"It's a hard row you've chosen to hoe, Sam," the gaffer said unhappily. "Folk are already talkin' and there's bound to be more. Not all of it real friendly like."

"I can't say we expected to be welcomed with open arms by the whole Shire, da. Frodo and I will be happy if just our family and friends can accept us. That would mean the world to us."

"You're my lad, Sam," Ham said gruffly. "I might not like everythin' you do but I'll still be on your side, just as I always have been."

Sam smiled. "I hoped you'd say that, da."

"But I reckon I wouldn't rest easy if I didn't tell you flat out that I think you're making a mistake."

"I hoped you wouldn't say that," Sam muttered.

"You're a father now, lad, you've got your son to think about! What kind of life is he going to have? Folk can be awful cruel to anythin' that's different."

"It might not seem like it to you, da, but we were thinkin' of Fael when we decided to come back as we did. New names and all."

"Folk might have given you the benefit of the doubt without that."

"Benefit of the doubt? You make it sound like we're doing somethin' wrong. My home is with Frodo and Fael, and I'm not about to hide that. Fael is my son and I'm not about to hide that either. Believe me, dad, folk would have noticed pretty darn quick that we were a family, even without the name change." He looked down at his pipe, trying to gather the right words. "I know you noticed his eyes, da. You've heard the talk about an elven spell..."

"If you're workin' up to tellin' me you made him together, Sam, don't bother. Mr. Bilbo let that cat out of the bag."

Sam blinked, trying to read his father's face. "What do you think about it then, da?" he asked tentatively.

Ham huffed a laugh. "Where do I start?" He waved a hand as Sam opened his mouth again. "Never mind that, Sam. The whys and wherefores of how that babby come into bein' don't matter no more. I trust that you thought you were doin' right makin' him. And now he's here and we wouldn't be without him."

Sam's heart swelled. "No, da," he agreed.

"But your family knowin' the truth is one thing, folk around here waggin' their tongues is another matter. Couldn't you have kept your fool heads down a bit, you daft beggar?"

"We decided when he was born that this was how it would be. All open and no lies. Lies just tangle everythin' up and have to be untangled and explained away later. Our backs are broad, da. We can take the whispers and the cruel talk. It'll all die down when we give them no more to talk about."

"Folk won't forget you know, even if things die down for a while. Good gossip never goes away, lad, it's always ready and waitin' to pop back up just when you think you're safe."

Sam set his jaw stubbornly. "We'll survive. We've survived worse."

"And your lad? Were you thinkin' about your lad at all when you made this choice?"

"It was for him that we made it," Sam said simply. "Because if it was just Frodo and me we would have kept our business to ourselves and not given a thought to other folk and their opinions about the way we live. But Fael has two parents, da, and two sides to his family. If we'd made his life a lie, which family would we have cut out? Mine? Frodo's? Would he have grown up a Baggins and never known you or his aunts and uncles and cousins? Or should Frodo have denied his own child, and have Fael grow up never knowing his Baggins family?"

Ham shook his head again, eyes worried. "I don't know," he admitted. "You can protect him now, Sam. You can wrap your arms around him and keep him safe. But what about when he gets older? When hard words and gossip behind hands will hurt him? What then?"

"We hope more than anythin' to spend our lives in the Shire," Sam said seriously. "We want our son to grow up the way we did. This is the best place in the world. But if things get too bad, well, there's other places in the world, da. And we can pack up our family and go there." Sam quirked his lips. "We're the Travelers now, after all."

"You'd do that?" Ham stared at him in surprise. "You'd leave your home?"

"Would you do any less for me, da? Or my brothers and sisters? Or mam too, if she was still alive?"

"But where would you go?"

"We've friends all over who'd take us in," Sam told him. "We've always a home with the elves, they told us that themselves. The King of Gondor told all four of us we have a place in his court any time we want it. I reckon he'll extend that to our son. And it's a big world out there, da. There are other places to live, although none of them hold a candle to home."

"You've changed so much, Sam," his gaffer said, staring hard. "That big world you're talking about changed you, and I'm not sure it was for the better. Once the Shire was your whole world and you knew how to live in it, what the rules were, what you had to do in it to get by. But now you think you live in a bigger world, and that just isn't so! You're crossing too many lines with this, lines you once knew better than to cross. Living with another lad, and one so far above your station, it's just going too far!"

The gaffer subsided and bit his lip, as if he thought he might have said too much. But Sam wasn't surprised, it was no more than he'd expected from his father and actually a little less heated than he'd thought it might be. Perhaps his talk of leaving had worried the old hobbit.

Sam turned his head to the edge of the field and looked down the road, eyes tracing it until it disappeared around the bend. He'd followed that road as far as it led and on still farther, until one day he'd found himself taking the one step that took him further from home than he'd ever been. Funny that it never occurred to him until now that each step after that had been the one that took him furthrest.

He turned back to face his father, studying the old white haired hobbit clutching his worn pipe. All his life he'd loved and respected him, taking his words and advice as wisdom, listening to them and following them faithfully. He still loved and respected him, but he could no longer obey unthinkingly the words he'd hung on all his life. He walked a different road now, and each step was, in a way, still taking him furthrest from home.

There was no going back.

He didn't want to anyway.

"I have changed, da," he said quietly. "I saw and did things you don't know, and could never imagine." He reached out and covered his father's hand, feeling the worn old skin under his fingertips. "There's no going back now. And even if there were, I wouldn't. I'm happy, da. I have everything I want."

"It will be hard," Ham warned him, but his hand turned and squeezed Sam's tightly.

"It will be," Sam agreed, squeezing back. "But with our friends and family around us it might be a bit easier. I've already told Fael he can always come to you if he needs to. That's still true, isn't it?"

Ham shook his head and pushed Sam's hand away. "Of course it is," he said scornfully. "It's not his fault if his father is a darn fool."

"Or if his grandfather is a stubborn old one," Sam shot back.

Ham surveyed him for a moment then stood up with a grunt. "I've had enough of serious talk," he pronounced. "I said I'd say my piece and I have."

"Yes, you have," Sam agreed, standing too. "Now in years to come you can say I told you so and it'll be true."

"That's enough sass from you, lad," Ham warned, knocking his pipe out against the seat. "Father or not I can still turn you over my knee."

"Yes, da," Sam said dutifully. He watched his gaffer stomp away, feeling lighter of heart. It hadn't been an easy discussion, but in a way it was a relief to have it over and done. Ham had indeed said his piece, although doubtless he would remember a few other pieces as well.

He wondered how Frodo and Fael were doing and then he wondered if he could sneak out and join him back at the house. It had been a long day and right now all he wanted was to close the door of their bedroom behind them and shut out the rest of the world.

Merry was dancing, a mug in his hand and as Sam casually scanned the crowd he saw Pippin at the edge of the wood looking over his shoulder. Something about the furtive look Pippin cast back over the field caught Sam's attention and with a frown he watched him disappear into the darkness with another hobbit on his heels.

888

Merry spun and dipped, careful not to spill a drop of ale from his mug. He nimbly avoided Sam when he approached and playfully danced around him.

"Do you know where Pippin is?" Sam asked over the music.

"I'm not my cousin's keeper!" Merry cried giddily.

"Only I think I just saw him slip away into the wood with Edgar Ford."

Merry stopped in his tracks. "Edgar Ford? Who invited him?"

"Not I. And you'd probably know more about it than me, but he's got a bad name in these parts. Folk say he helped the invaders, and more besides."

"I've heard a few tales," Merry said, feeling sober all of a sudden. "But why on earth would Pip go off with him? Where, Sam?"

Sam pointed with his thumb and Merry dropped his mug on the nearest table and hurried into the dark wood.

He followed the path as far as it went, straining his eyes for his cousin. He didn't have to look too far. Pip was leaning back against a tree and Edgar stood over him, one hand planted by his curls against the rough bark, his head lowering.

"Pippin!"

Edgar turned and glowered over his shoulder. "I should of known your shadow wouldn't be far behind you, sweet face." Pippin made to move away but Edgar grabbed his shoulder hard, and held him in place. "Keep out of this, Brandybuck. Tis none of your concern."

"True enough," Merry said equably, holding onto his temper at the sight of Edgar's big hand on Pippin's shoulder.

Edgar stroked his hand to Pippin's face and tweaked a curl. The young Took looked down at his feet, his face in the shadow of the tree impossible to make out. "And I don't see your braggart's sword by your side this night."

"No sword," Merry shrugged, empty palms outward. "But I wonder what kind of reaction I'd get from the good folk of Hobbiton if I wandered back to the party and told them you were causing strife? Long memories they have, in these parts."

Edgar dropped his hand and turned to face Merry, an ugly look on his dark face. "You'd stir up trouble for me?" he demanded. "I was invited to this tryst, Brandybuck, I didn't drag your pretty friend out into the dark." He shook his head and spat on the ground between them. "Fine, keep him to yourself, then, though you should wonder. He can't be gettin' what he needs from you if he comes lookin' for it from the likes of me."

Pippin kept his eyes on his feet while Edgar stomped off through the wood.

"Are you all right?" Merry asked in concern and Pippin swung a furious look at him.

"What did you do that for?" he demanded.

"What did I...?" Merry gasped. "What do you think you were doing?"

"Taking a walk in the moonlight," Pippin said defiantly.

"With Edgar Ford? He used to push you over in the mud, Pip, just to see you get dirty. He's a bully."

"That was a long time ago," Pippin dismissed. "He's all grown up."

"Right. And now he's a big bully. And a rake too, so I've heard." Merry trailed away again, eyes narrowing as Pippin looked down at his feet. "You knew that," he accused. "You came out here with him because you knew that!"

"Edgar's not the only one who's grown up, Merry," Pippin said heatedly. "I wish you'd stop treating me like a child!"

"When you stop acting like one!" Merry raged. "Of all the foolish... What would you have done if he'd taken you up on your offer?"

"I wasn't offering anything!" Pippin threw back wildly. "I was just curious, that's all!"

Merry threw up his hands in dismay. "Curious!"

All the fire seemed to leave Pippin and he bowed his head miserably. "Yes," he whispered.

"Oh. Pip," Merry said in exasperation. "What were you thinking? How many times does curiosity have to get you in trouble before you learn?"

Pippin shrugged sullenly.

"This is about this afternoon, isn't it? About what you saw through the window."

Pippin shrugged again. "Not just this afternoon," he mumbled.

"No," Merry agreed. "I suppose you've been thinking about this ever since we found out about Frodo and Sam." He clicked his tongue. "Those two have a lot to answer for, stirring you up like this!"

"Don't blame them," Pippin said hotly, lifting his face which shone wet in the moonlight. "This is something in me, Merry. Seeing them together only made me realize it is all."

Merry felt his anger withering at the sight of the tear tracks on his young cousin's face. He frowned, trying to make sense of Pippin's words. "What do you mean, Pip?" He stepped closer and laid a comforting arm on Pippin's shoulder, and the younger hobbit sobbed and turned his damp face into Merry's neck. "What's got you so rattled now, fool of a Took?" Merry teased gently, wrapping his other arm across Pip's chest and squeezing fondly.

"Oh, Merry," Pip wailed. "I don't know! I don't know why I feel like this, all churned up and... and..." He curved tighter and sobbed against Merry's shoulder. "I don't know!"

"Hush now," Merry said, patting his back. "We'll sort through it, Pip, I promise." He leaned over and tried to peer under tumbled curls to Pippin's face. "All right?"

Pippin sniffed and nodded.

"Course we will," Merry said bracingly. "Haven't I always been there to sort it all out for you?"

Pippin raised his head, his eyes red and tear swollen. "Uh huh," he hiccupped.

"Then I will this time too. But not right now, all right? We're supposed to be throwing this party, we should get back and see it through."

"All right," Pippin agreed meekly.

Merry squeezed his shoulder and pulled away but Pippin caught his arm and held him close for a moment.

"Will you really help me, Merry?" he asked, looking up at his older cousin through damp tangled lashes.

Merry rolled his eyes. "Don't I always?"

Pippin's usual sunny nature reasserted itself and he squeezed Merry's arm tightly before smiling at him. "I should have known you would," he said happily, wiping at his face with his hands. "I should have thought of you first. Don't know why I didn't."

"Me either, since I'm usually the one you run to."

Pippin pulled away and trotted down the path back to the lights and music. "I'd rather figure it all out with you anyway," he said cheerfully to himself. "Not that old bully Edgar."

"Exactly," Merry agreed, following him. Then he stopped in his tracks. "What?"

"And after all," Pippin went on thoughtfully. "You were the one talking about hands and lips and stuff, so you're obviously the expert."

Merry began to feel a trickle of panic. "Pippin, what are you talking about?"

Pippin stopped and turned to face him. "And if you want to learn something new," he said wisely. "Always go to an expert." He studied Merry's frozen form with a frown. "Do come on, Merry, we're missing the whole party!"

"But, Pippin," Merry protested weakly to Pip's back as he trotted happily back to the crowd. He replayed the conversation in his head and then shut his eyes and groaned. "What have I done?" he appealed to the uncaring woods. With a huff of exasperation tinged with terror he made his way back to the party.

888

May followed the lights and found herself at the top of the path. The doors of Bag End were wide open and she paused at the back door and peered in curiously. She'd never been in this fine house, although her father and her brother had been in and out for years. Once or twice she'd been in the gardens with the gaffer, but mostly the girls stayed home and helped their mam, or took care of the place once she was gone. It was the lads who worked with their dad in the gardens and orchards.

May put her hand on her swollen belly, feeling tired all of a sudden. The argument had given her a headache and the walk up the hill from the field had made her legs ache. On impulse she crossed the threshold and followed her nose to the kitchen.

A fire was burning low and it was the work of a moment to stoke it back to life and set the kettle over it. Quick exploration found a fine tea caddy and sugar bowl and in a few minutes May was sitting a the table drinking a welcome brew. She sighed, rubbing her temple with one hand. She regretted her quick words now, especially to Daisy. It just didn't pay to argue with her older sister, she never got angry, never shouted. She usually just waited until you had shouted yourself out and calmly made a comment that took the wind right out of your sails and left you feeling a darn fool. It was a rare gift.

It was just lately that May had felt her moods had been swinging widely. Rory just smiled and said it was the baby, but she saw the worried look in his eye. It was the same one she saw on her own face when she looked in the mirror, the same one she felt in her heart, that shortened her temper, made her so quick to snap.

"I see someone else had the same idea I did." Mr. Frodo stood in the kitchen doorway with a basket in his arms and a smile on his face.

Horrified, May jumped up.

"Don't let me disturb you," Frodo said genially, laying the basket tenderly on the table. May could see downy golden curls and a little pink hand. She looked away.

"I just fancied a cup of tea," she said apologetically.

"So did I," Frodo said fervently, taking a cup down from the dresser. He sat and poured himself a cup and May sat back down too, reaching for her own cup. "Too much smoke and singing for my sleepy lad too," he smiled, nodding to the basket.

"I shouldn't have just walked in though," May said looking down at her cup, wondering how quickly she could make an excuse and leave. She didn't want to be in this cozy kitchen with her brother's bed mate and their elf-magic baby. She wanted to be safe in her own home with Rory's strong arms around her, Rory's soft voice telling her everything would be all right, even if he didn't quite believe it himself.

"Don't worry about it." Frodo looked around the kitchen with a smile. "Everyone seems to wind up here in the end. If a home has a heart then it's the kitchen, don't you think?" He chuckled. "For hobbits in any case."

May shrugged, reluctant to agree with anything he said.

"So," Frodo said, nodding at her belly. "When will the baby come?"

May laid her hand on the swell. "June," she said. "That's when he's due." Baby kicked under her hand and she couldn't help the quick smile she gave. It was always a comfort to feel him moving.

Frodo chuckled and she glanced at him in surprise. He was nodding back down at her belly.

"I almost felt that from here," he marveled. "He's a kicker, hey? Like my Fael was. We thought he'd kick his way right out!" He shook his head reminiscently and May stared. All of a sudden it occurred to her to wonder about this elf spell everyone was talking about. They all said it was amazing what elves could do, and that it was all worthwhile if it saved Mr. Frodo's life, but now she thought on it some more. Babies didn't just grow under cabbage leaves did they, no matter what Daisy had tried to convince her years before. Someone had carried that baby and given birth to him, and all of a sudden May wasn't sure she wanted to know the details.

Frodo must have felt her eyes on him, because suddenly he went crimson and looked down into his tea as if embarrassed. "Um, so," he said, rushing into speech. "Is this your first?"

May forgot her suspicions as the old pain washed over her. She laid her cup down on the table but kept both hands wrapped around it, to hide her shaking fingers.

"I was carryin' once before," she said quietly. "Durin' the troubles it was. But he come early, in the night, and we couldn't get a midwife to help."

Frodo was frozen, his wide blue eyes staring at her.

"We lost him," May finished, glad it was out and said and she could make her excuses and go.

"I'm so sorry," Frodo whispered, and May clenched her jaw and shot him a glance as she stood. Then she was the one frozen as she saw his face. His eyes were full of tears, his face stark and pale. Both his hands were clenched together on the table, she saw clearly the mutilated one was white with strain.

"Mr. Frodo?" she said in wonder and he started back into himself, turning his head and scrubbing fiercely at his eyes with his hand.

"Oh, I am sorry," he said hastily. "What a fool you must think me."

May sank back into her chair, his grief etched face still clear in her mind. Why should he be so upset for her? He barely knew her, for all their new family connections.

"It - it was a long time ago," May said, searching for words to fill the gap. "Nearly two years now."

Frodo turned his pale face back to her. "I can't imagine how awful it must have been for you," he said quietly. "Two years or two hundred, it can't make a difference to the pain."

May opened her mouth to say something polite, but there was just something in his eyes, in his voice. His words said he couldn't imagine that pain but his eyes said differently. They understood, as no one else had. All the well meaning friends who changed the subject or left awkward silences, all the folk who told her briskly that she was young and would get over it. None of them had understood the way this young hobbit with his wide blue eyes understood.

Suddenly there were tears in her own eyes, spilling down her cheeks, and she covered her face with her hand. With a soft exclamation Frodo reached out and touched her arm gently.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and May felt his sorrow and her own. She reached down and gripped his hand, crying out tears that felt as if they had been dammed up inside her for months. Baby kicked again and she snuffled a sob of laughter into her fingers.

"This one will be fine," Frodo said firmly, and she lifted her head and looked into his kind eyes. They believed what they were saying and she felt herself believe it too, felt his certainty transfer a little of itself into her.

"He will be," she agreed, hiccupping a little. She wiped her eyes and sniffed, chuckling damply. "I must look a mess!"

Frodo pulled out a kerchief and handed it to her. "You look fine," he assured her. "Have another cup of tea, you'll feel better for it."

He poured them both a fresh cup, stirring milk into his own. May knew she should feel embarrassed but she just felt better instead. The tension behind her eyes felt eased and she sighed and sipped her tea with appreciation.

"I haven't really cried like that since I found out I was carrying this one," she confided. "I guess it's been building up."

"Tears never hurt anybody," Frodo said. "Sometimes they even wash a bit of the pain away with them."

"Mr. Frodo," she began shyly.

"Frodo please," he corrected. "After all, we're family now." Then he looked away a little awkwardly. "Well, sort of family."

"Family," May said quietly, beginning to believe it herself. Daisy was right, Sam was her brother and she would stand by his choice. As it happened right now she thought he'd made a pretty fine one.

"Right," Frodo said softly, his eyes shining. "Family."

"So, Frodo," she said again. "Can I hold your baby?"

Frodo glanced at the basket and then back at May in surprise. "Of course you can." He stood and reached gentle hands into the basket, lifting the baby hobbit tenderly to his chest. "He's just waking up so he might be cranky," he warned.

May accepted the small bundle, drawing him to her heart and letting him rest in the crook of her elbow. He was yawning, his wide open mouth and pink gums drawing a helpless chuckle. Then he waved his fists and opened wide blue eyes, peering up at her. He blinked, then reached out with little pink fingers and smiled.

"Why, he does look like Sam," May exclaimed, surprised in spite of herself. It was one thing to know he was Sam's son, another to see it with her own eyes.

"He does, doesn't he?" Frodo said enthusiastically. "Look at that smile, it's the image of him. And the way his eyes crinkle at the corners? That's Sam."

"It is," May agreed. "But these are sure your eyes looking up at me, Mr. Frodo."

She glanced up into those matching eyes and they were chiding her.

"Frodo," she corrected shyly. "He- he really is your baby too, isn't he?"

"Yes," Frodo said proudly.

May looked down at the baby again in wonder. "Fael," she said, recalling the name. She felt a little ashamed, remembering how just hours earlier she had mocked how foreign it sounded. "What does that mean?"

"It's an elf word for describing the sunshine," Frodo said, reaching out and letting Fael take his finger. "I don't know if we have a word like it."

"Describing sunshine," May repeated in wonder. "Fancy that."

"Fael," Frodo said to his wide eyed son. "This is your Aunty May. She's got your new cousin inside her right now. You'll be good friends once he's born. You'll be older than him, so mind you take good care of him."

May laughed as Fael's absorbed little face seemed to take his father's words in.

"They will be cousins," she realized. She glanced at Frodo. "But it might be a girl cousin," she reminded him.

"Even more reason to take care of her," Frodo said.

"Hmph," May said, cradling the baby easily in one arm and picking up her tea. "Girls can take care of themselves just fine."

Frodo chuckled and sat back down. "You know, May, you're right. Fael's Aunty May will have a lot to teach him."

"If his Aunty Daisy ever lets me get a word in edgewise, I will do my best," May promised.

"You're right there too," Frodo said fervently, then he began to chuckle. May began to giggle and soon they were both laughing, and pouring another cup of tea.

888

Marigold greeted her with a relieved sigh. "There you are! I was worried about you."

"I'm fine," May said, sitting down and reaching for a piece of tart with new appetite. She licked her lips appreciatively. "Is this the one you made? It's good!"

"Thanks," Marigold said, sitting down opposite. "I fried the onions first, like you said." She frowned and shook her head. "Never mind that! I want to know what we're going to do about Daisy. She's laying down the law about all this business-"

"What business?" May said, finishing the onion tart and reaching for another.

Marigold stared at her. "What do you mean, what business? This business with our Sam!"

"Is his business," May finished firmly. "Daisy's right. It'll all be a storm in a tea cup." She remembered her own storm over tea a few minutes earlier and huffed a sigh. What had she been so angry about anyway? Sam was all grown up, he could take care of himself. She said as much to Marigold.

"Well you've changed your tune," her sister said, crossing her arms and sticking out her lip. "Between you and Daisy I don't know up from down these days."

"Don't you fret yourself, love," May said. patting her on the arm and heaving herself to her feet. "There's bigger things to worry about than two lads in love, that's for sure. Now, I'm going to find my Rory and see if we can fit one last dance in before they throw us all out."

Marigold sat for a minute with her arms crossed, but knowing her sister of old May paused and looked back over at her. Marigold frowned for another few seconds and then puffed out a breath. "Oh all right,' she said, flouncing her red curls. "I'll see if I can drag Tom away from his ale long enough to give me a dance as well."

Arm in arm May and Marigold went to find their own lads.

888

"I missed you," Sam whispered as Frodo joined him back at a table. "When can we sneak out d'you think?"

Frodo slipped his hand under the table and laid it on Sam's knee, squeezing gently.

"I've something to say." Hamfast Gamgee banged on the table with his mug and the hobbits around the field quieted, the music stopping.

"A bit late for speeches, isn't it?" Sam wondered, exchanging a curious look with Frodo. He covered Frodo's hand with his own where it lay on his knee and Frodo wondered what exactly Sam and the gaffer had spoken about earlier.

"You all know me," Ham said. "And you know there's some things I don't hold with."

Heads bobbed up and down the tables.

"I never held with folk going off to foreign parts and getting mixed up with foreign ways. But the time comes when an old hobbit has to admit he's wrong. It was our traveling lads that bought peace back to the Shire, aye, and the bumper year we've just enjoyed."

"I'll drink to that!" Milo Burrows slurred and folk chuckled.

Sam chuckled along with them and Frodo leaned closer and squeezed his hand. Then he happened to look up into Freddy Bolger's eyes. They dropped to where his and Sam's hands disappeared under the table and the stout hobbit raised a curious brow. Frodo returned it with a raised brow of his own, not wanting his face to show his disappointment. There was disapproval in Freddy's eyes, and something that was harder to put a name to. Frodo found that he didn't even want to try.

"So maybe there's something to be said for foreign parts," Ham admitted grudgingly and there were equally grudging nods of agreement from the older hobbits around him. Some young hobbits though nodded their heads eagerly and raised their mugs, eyes shining.

"I've never held with magic neither," Ham continued. "But if it saves Mr. Frodo's life then I'll not speak out against it. Nor should anyone else around," he said, his sharp old eyes scanning the crowd. Most folks there younger than him squirmed automatically on their benches, reminded of Ham's hard hand applied to the seats of cheeky young hobbits who scrumped apples from his trees.

"I've a gift for the returning youngsters," he said with a nod, and Sam's brothers lifted up a cloth covered shape and planted it on the table.

"I meant to make you a new one like you asked, son," Ham said, his eyes on Sam. "But I found this one in the shed and it cleaned up right nice." He pulled the cloth away and revealed a cradle, the old wood buffed up to a dark sheen, simple carvings of mushrooms and leaves adorning its sides.

"I lay in it meself as a babby," the gaffer said. "If you can believe it. And all my young'uns too. Now it's my grandson's turn."

Sam stared at the cradle for long moments, his heart in his eyes.

Frodo forgot everyone else at the party, all his attention was on Sam and the stunned joy on his face. No matter what Ham had said to him in private, this public display spoke volumes to every hobbit in the Shire.

"It's perfect, da," Sam said huskily and a cheer broke out.

"A toast!" Bilbo called out and he heaved himself to his feet.

"To all our travelers!" he said as everyone raised their mugs. "Especially our newest one. The Shire's a richer place for welcoming them back. Our travelers!"

"Our travelers!" Everyone roared and mugs were enthusiastically emptied.

888

Sam deposited the cradle in the middle of the floor and stood back to admire it. "I couldn't have made a better one myself," he pronounced.

Frodo grinned. "It is fine. But more than that it showed everyone that the gaffer was on our side. What did he say to you when you were alone?"

"Oh, pretty much what I expected," Sam said, sitting back on the bed with a weary sigh. "Can't blame him for wishin' everything was normal."

"Normal," Frodo said, laying Fael down in the old cradle. "What's that? And by the way, what did that fellow by the ale barrels say? I thought you were going to haul off and punch him."

Sam pulled a face. "Don't ask," he advised.

"Sam..."

Sam stood up with a groan and started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "I mean it. I'm not gonna run mewling to you every time some fool makes a rude remark, any more than you will to me when you and Fatty Bolger have it out."

Frodo wished for once that Sam didn't know him quite as well as he did. "All right, love, I see your point. And I must admit I thought something similar myself earlier. I'm glad the party is over though, even though it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I'm glad Merry thought of it."

"Got a lot of it over and done with anyway."

They changed into their nightshirts and Sam climbed into bed but Frodo hovered over the cradle, eyes on Fael as his wide eyes blinked and his little hands waved, fingers flexing. Finally he gave into the urge and lifted him back up into his arms.

"Is he all right?" Sam asked in surprise as Frodo carried him over to the bed.

"Sam?" Frodo asked, climbing onto the bed and leaning back against him. "I was talking to May tonight."

"My sister May?" Sam frowned, wrapping his arms around Frodo and drawing him close. "She was givin' me some fierce frowns when we got to the party. Pay her no nevermind, love. She's made no secret of her disapproval."

"I think she's just been really unhappy," Frodo said softly. "She told me how she lost her baby, Sam. Back during the troubles she said."

"Daisy did tell me about it last year," Sam confessed. "And I felt bad for her and all. But..."

"It's amazing how your perspective can change, isn't it?" Frodo said softly, laying his cheek on Fael's soft hair. Sam wrapped his arms tighter around him from behind and Frodo leaned back against his chest with a sigh. "I told May I couldn't imagine it, but I could, Sam. I can remember all too well what it felt like with our baby still and cold within me. If we'd lost him then... Well, I don't know how anyone survives that."

"Me either, now," Sam said, shaping Fael's little head with his hand. "Poor May and Rory."

"You know, I don't remember too much from the day Fael was born. Just the pain and the weakness afterwards."

"And the blood," Sam said fervently. "Don't forget the blood."

"Were you frightened, Sam?"

Frodo heard Sam swallow hard, felt him nod into his hair. He seemed unable to speak and Frodo touched his hand gently.

"I remember being afraid too. That we'd put his life in danger with our spell. Isn't that funny? When his life wouldn't have been at all without us. But that's how I felt, as if anything that happened wrong would have been because of me."

"I was afraid for you," Sam said hoarsely. "There was so much blood, too much I thought for anyone to survive. After he was born safe you just seemed to fade away before me, getting colder and colder."

Frodo twisted and looked into Sam's face, seeing the pain of his memory there.

"I wrapped my arms around you, as if I could hold you in this world with just my strength."

"Oh, Sam."

"Do you know what I remembered, love?"

Frodo shook his head mutely.

"That promise you made me make you, when he was still safe inside you. That if anything happened to you I would go on, for his sake."

"I remember."

"I resented that promise," Sam said lowly. "Hated it. If you died on that bed then I wanted to follow you, and have them lay us in the ground together just like that, with my arms around you."

Frodo pressed his face to Sam's neck, trying to convey with his touch and love that he was safe now and all was well. "It's over, Sam. Our wish came true and we're all safe and well together in our home."

Sam took a deep breath and pressed his face to Frodo's hair again. "I know," he whispered.

"I never realized what you went though," Frodo admitted.

"You had your own hard work to do."

"I imagine it must be just as hard to be the one who has to watch and wait." Frodo looked down at Fael. "He's asleep. I should put him down."

"Lay him down between us," Sam said huskily. "I don't feel inclined to have him too far from us tonight."

Frodo smiled his relief. Sam always understood. He lay Fael down on the bed and put his head on the pillow, unable to stop touching his small flexing hands, his tiny pink fingers.

"You know what that party needed? Gandalf's fireworks."

Sam smiled reminiscently.

"Fael will never know them," Frodo continued sadly. "He'll never know Gandalf or Bilbo. He'll never know the Shire the way we knew it."

"Aye," Sam agreed. "And if I have owt to do with it he'll never know a dark journey like ours, or black riders and invaders on his doorstep. Gandalf and Bilbo did their part to give us a safe future. Best we look to it then, and not worry about the past."

Frodo smiled at him tenderly. "Dear Sam. Am I brooding again?"

"A bit," Sam admitted. "And you're not the only one. It's easy enough for both of us to brood about the past. But so long as we jog each other out of it and Fael is here to remind us why, then we'll get through."

"Yes." Frodo leaned over and kissed his lips, then kissed Fael on his softly flushed cheek. "And we can ask no more from the future than that."

To Be Continued!