Esmeralda looked up from her sewing at a timid knock on her door. It was far too light to be an adult, but what youngster would be up at this hour of the night? It was nearly midnight and the only reason Esmeralda herself was still awake was because she wanted this dress finished in time to wear for Merry's birthday party tomorrow. It would be too, if she could just get the hem turned and pressed.

The knock came again and Esmeralda secured her needle and draped the dress over the back of her chair before going to the door. She was surprised to find Frodo standing in the hallway. He had on only his nightshirt and dressing gown, his hair was tousled and his face was feverishly pink and tracked with tears. His arms were wrapped around his chest, shoulders hunched.

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Esmeralda beckoned him in at once. "Frodo. Whatever is the matter?" At age eighteen Frodo was almost as tall as she but he looked younger an smaller tonight.

Leading him to the chair by the fire, Esmeralda eased him back into the cushions but no sooner had his body touched them than he hissed and pulled forward again, tears springing to his eyes. Esmeralda bent to him at once, cupping his cheek in her hand.

"What is it, Frodo? Are you hurt?"

Frodo pleaded, his voice and hands taking on an edge of panic. "Please don't tell Uncle Saradoc. I've learned my lesson. Truly I have!"

Esmeralda caught his frantically waving hands, raising her voice just enough to carry over his. "Calm down Frodo and tell your Auntie Esme what the problem is. You know I'll try to help if I can." As he settled a little she tried to comb his hair into some semblance of order with her fingers and he leaned into her touch, tears shimmering in his eyes.

Continuing to try to calm him, Esmeralda held his hand and waited. "What ever has you so upset?"

He shook his head. Esmeralda gave up the vain attempt at ordering his locks and pulled out her handkerchief to dab at his eyes before handing it over. "Blow your nose and tell me what it is. There's nothing that we can't sort out between us."

Frodo gave one final sniffle and began to speak . . . his voice almost too low to hear and his eyes fixed on his fingers where they wrung the handkerchief in his lap.

"You know how I love mushrooms?" He did not wait for an answer but moved straight on, trying to get the story out before his strength of will failed him.

"Well, Farmer Maggot grows the best mushrooms around here. All the lads duck into his fields and steal a few every now and again. It's a bit of a game to see if we can get the mushrooms and outrun his dogs . . . he keeps some fearful dogs, Auntie Esme."

His Aunt nodded. She had heard many a tale about Farmer Maggot's dogs . . . most of them wildly exaggerated and, she suspected, started by the farmer himself in the hopes of frightening off people before they got to even meet the animals. She could hardly blame him for Bamfurlong farm was right on the borders of the Shire proper and easily accessible for anyone coming off the old East/West Road along the Causeway or on the ferry.

Esmeralda had occasion to meet both farmer and dogs and knew that he was a kind enough soul and his dogs well trained not to bite . . . but she did not intend to let the youngsters know that if the threat kept them out of trouble. With most it did . . . but Frodo and one or two others had an adventurous streak.

Frodo took a shuddering breath and continued. "I went out for a walk this afternoon and took the ferry across. I didn't set out with the intention of stealing mushrooms but by the time I was coming back I was hungry and I knew I would be too late for tea. I've outrun his dogs many a time so I decided to risk it."

The big blue eyes peeped up at her from beneath long dark lashes, sparkling with tears and Esmeralda set herself not to melt, only returning his gaze steadily. Frodo swallowed and his voice grew even quieter.

"Farmer Maggot must have been very close by because before I knew it he had hold of my arm. He's nearly caught me several times before so he knew it wasn't my first offence. He took a switch to my back, then he showed me to his dogs and said, "See lads, next time this young varmint sets foot on my land, you can eat him. Now see him off!"" Frodo swallowed hard. "They chased me all the way to the Ferry. I was so frightened."

"I see." Esmeralda considered being stern with him but he looked so pitiful and it seemed he had most definitely learned his lesson. There was little reason in emphasising a point already firmly made. She knew that Saradoc would not be so forgiving however, and Frodo could well receive further punishment. Whilst Saradoc was not one to use corporal punishment, with his growing adventurous streak Frodo had been sent to muck out the cowsheds on more than one occasion in recent years.

"And this was at teatime?" Esmeralda asked as she began to unfasten his dressing gown. He grimaced when she helped him out of it but blushed furiously and clutched at the neck of his nightshirt as she started to undo the buttons there. Esmeralda smiled.

"Frodo . . . you are obviously still in a lot of pain and have come for my help to ease it. I can't help you if I can't see your back. I nursed you when you were sick before, remember."

Frodo looked about then leaned in to whisper, "Where is Uncle Saradoc?"

Esmeralda nodded toward the closed bedroom door. "Don't worry. It would take an army of drummers to wake him. He and Rorymac shared a bottle of Old Winyards earlier."

Frodo let go the death grip on the neck of his shirt and Esmeralda calmly unfastened it and eased it off his shoulders and arms to pool about his waist. She moved the lamp on the table at his side a little and turned him sideways so that she could survey the damage.

Although Esmeralda did not approve of such punishments she noted that Farmer Maggot had been stern but not vicious in his punishment. The skin was not broken but there was a fair amount of light bruising and a couple of red welts that clearly showed that he had used a birch or hazel switch. Esmeralda imagined that they would smart rather fiercely and had probably prevented Frodo from sleeping.

"There's no bleeding but it's going to be a lovely range of colours when the bruising comes out properly. You'd best make sure no-one sees you without your shirt for a few weeks. It's going to be stiff and sore for a while and you're going to have to pretend it isn't if you don't want people to find out. Are you sure you can do that? It's not long to harvest and you're expected to help."

Frodo nodded vehemently. "Please, Auntie Esme. I can do it . . . but please don't tell anyone," he pleaded again. He began to pull up his nightshirt and Esmeralda stopped him.

"No lad. I've got some salve that will take the sting out of it."

He stilled again and Esmeralda pushed the kettle over the fire to boil while she fetched a small pot from the chest under the window. She opened it and Frodo recognised at once the familiar smell of calendula and something else that he could not place. Esmeralda began to spread it upon his back and Frodo sighed in relief as it began to work immediately to soothe and cool the stinging pain. When she had finished Esmeralda eased him back into nightshirt and dressing gown and pushed him gently back into the cushions before turning to make tea. Frodo closed his eyes, revelling in the easement of his pain and happy to remain where he was put for the time being.

"Come on now. Drink this down. It will help." Esmeralda offered him a cup of hot tea, redolent with chamomile and honey and the lad accepted it gratefully, sipping it slowly until it was drained. By the time he had finished it Esmeralda could see that the tea, combined with the late hour were making Frodo very drowsy and she helped him to his feet and walked him back down the empty hallways.

He was almost stumbling by the time he reached his room and only vaguely aware as his Aunt helped him out of his dressing gown and tucked him into his bed, where he promptly curled up on his side and let his eyelids slide shut.

Esmeralda perched on the edge of the bed, watching him slip into a deep sleep.

He had changed. He was still a quiet lad who loved to read or write but he had also developed a sense of mischievous fun as he settled into life at Brandy Hall. The birth of Meriadoc had helped there. He became a younger brother to Frodo, following him about like a shadow. But Frodo only truly blossomed when Bilbo was around.

Although he was a happy lad and had made many friends with his winning smile and little kindness', he still missed belonging to someone. Esmeralda hoped with every passing day that Bilbo would be that someone. She blew out the candle at his bedside and slipped from the room silently.

Halfway down the hall she met her sleep fogged husband coming towards her. "I heard you talking to someone. Is everything alright?"

"Never you mind," Esmeralda instructed as she turned him about. "It's sorted," she added with a finality that brooked no further query.