Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: Hobbits and Wings (#3669)
Author: Nessa
Chapters: 4
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Archive: Tolkien
Category: Lord of the Rings
Description: A wingfic that will carry our Frodo through the LOTR Quest. Beta read by a most wonderful Budgielover. Rated PG-13 for the usual angst. Enjoy!
Published: 30 Dec 2007
Updated: 28 Jul 2008
Warnings: none
Type: General
Characters: The Fellowship;Bilbo;Elves


Chapter 1 - A NEW HOME

Hobbits and Wings
By:  Nessa	

1.  A New Home 

Bilbo Baggins, one of the oldest Hobbits in the Shire and considered (by some) the oddest, had officially adopted Frodo Baggins as his heir.  While celebrating Bilbo's ninety-ninth and Frodo's twenty-first year at Brandy Hall, Bilbo told Frodo that he had better come and live with him at Bag End so they could 'celebrate their birthdays comfortably together,' as both their birthdays fell on September 22nd.  Bilbo had patiently waited until then to bring his fondest plan into fruition. The time had come, and Bilbo moved the young Baggins, bag and baggage, into Bag End. 

Frodo was delighted with his new home. He had his own room, his own books, his own desk, his own…everything.  He was so thankful to Bilbo that he made sure the elder Hobbit knew exactly how he felt at every opportunity. 

One cool sunny morning in late autumn, Bilbo and Frodo were sharing a bench in the garden.  They sat with Bag End's sun-warmed wall at their backs, watching the honeybees at work gathering their winter horde.  Bilbo sucked on his pipe and blew out a perfect smoke ring while Frodo watched admiringly.

"Uncle Bilbo." 

"Yes, lad?"  

"I am so grateful for all you have done..."

Bilbo had had enough. He laughed, placed his hand firmly on Frodo's shoulder, gave him a gentle shake and said, “Lad, you don’t have to thank me anymore. I am just as grateful to have you here as you are to be here.” 

Frodo, hugging his older cousin around his lower back, taking care not to ruffle anything, said, “All right, Uncle Bilbo, I’ll try not to say it anymore…but I will show it as much as possible.”

“That’ll be just fine, Frodo, my boy. What say we prepare second breakfast?” 

The young hobbit, like all hobbits everywhere, had absolutely no objection to more food.  He carefully disentangled his arm, leaped to his feet, dashed through the round door, and ran down the hall into the kitchen. He started filling the tea kettle from the sink pump. 

Chuckling, the old hobbit followed him into the cosy hole. On his way through the generously proportioned hallway, he admired the woodwork and beams as was his wont, very happy to have such a fine home to bring his lad into.

Upon entering the bright cosy room, Bilbo opened the stove grate and knelt stiffly.  After tucking a stray bit of fluff behind his shoulder out of harm's way, he began to stir the banked fire into life, adding more wood periodically, until it crackled and popped merrily.

Frodo looked down admiringly, “Uncle Bilbo?”

“Yes, Frodo?”

“Do you think I will have wings as lovely and full as yours when I grow up?” 

“I don’t see why not,” answered his uncle, “your Father certainly did.”

“But he would not use them,” Frodo whispered, “Why, Uncle Bilbo?  Maybe mum and da wouldn't have died if he…” 

Bilbo rose and stretched his wings, settling the feathers back into place with a shake, “I don't know, Frodo. It is one of those things we cannot go back and explain," He took Frodo's hand, squeezed it gently and looked into blue eyes that would never quite lose their shadow of grief, "It may have been that he was deathly afraid of heights and too proud to admit it to anyone, which is rare amongst our folk. We will never understand the whole of it, lad, and it would be better if you did not torment yourself with ‘what ifs’.” 

Sadly nodding, Frodo set the kettle on the stove, “You are right, Uncle,” he said softly, “you are right.”

With both of them working together, their second breakfast was soon ready to enjoy. They sat down to a light repast (for hobbits) of a three-meat pie, fried mushrooms, fresh bread and butter, four different kinds of cheeses, blueberry tarts and fresh tea. After they had filled up the corners (which is a custom unique to hobbits), Bilbo did the washing up and Frodo the drying. Glancing shyly at the elderly hobbit, Frodo broke the easy silence between them, “When do you think they will start to grow?”

“What? Oh, your wings. Sometime during your late tweens, and to answer your next question…they take about four years to mature enough to use in flight.”

"Do they always grow in the same colour as our hair?  Is it going to hurt or itch and how do I learn to sit a pony or on a chair? What about sleeping...how am I to sleep, Uncle?” Frodo asked with an anxious look in his blue eyes.

Bilbo was astonished, "Didn't your elders at Brandy Hall tell you anything?"

"I wasn’t really close enough to any one of them," Frodo admitted, "so I was too uncomfortable talking to them about it.  I...um, it was just too...difficult."

Bilbo, noting Frodo's flushed face, took pity on the lad and replied in a chipper tone, "Let's finish here, retire to the parlour and toast our feet before the fire I built earlier to rid our home of its chill.  I will answer your questions to the best of my ability."

With a nod and a sigh of relief, Frodo hung up the soggy drying towel and followed the elder hobbit into the parlour. They settled into comfy chairs close to the fire where Frodo opened his heart to his older cousin in a way that he had not been able to since losing his parents. "Uncle Bilbo, I want to learn to fly. I never want to be without the added protection of wings. I might be able to save someone else the heart-ache... of losing a loved one."

Bilbo reached over and patted his heir's arm. "I am proud of you, lad, that you have such a high purpose in flying. Many young hobbits don't even consider using their ability for any better reason than showing off for a pretty lass."

"Will my wings be all one colour?"

"Yes, they will.  Why do you ask?"

"I seem to have a vague memory of a deep blue shade on the inner side of Da's wings."

Bilbo sighed, "So you saw that."

"Why do you say it that way, Uncle?" Bilbo didn't respond. "Uncle?"

Bilbo brought himself back to the present, "Hmm? Oh, sorry my lad, just thinking out loud… 

“Now to answer your questions. Yes, it will hurt quite badly during the initial bone-growing period, which lasts from between six to twelve months. You will drink a lot of water and milk. You will also be served and expected to eat lots of vegetables, fruits and nuts.  This seems to help.  And, of course, you will be very glad for the bitter taste of willow bark tea during this time. It is also expected of all lads going through this period to continue with their chores and duties."

Frodo pondered on this information for some time and thought that some of it was not quite fair. He asked, "Why are lads not allowed some days of respite from their regular schedules? This seems a bit unfair, especially for the outdoor-working fellows."

"Frodo, we have to learn to carry on through adversity. It is our tradition. And it is during this time of changing from lads into grown and responsible hobbits that we can best learn to show our quality." 

"Oh... I understand," Frodo said, but thought, 'it still seems harsh.' 

Bilbo settled more deeply into his chair, tucking his left wing comfortably to accommodate it. "As for itching; the worst occurs right between the shoulder blades and down your middle back. When it gets bad enough, you will find yourself calling on me or whomever is around to help with this problem. No one will be adverse to helping a fellow hobbit in such straits. There is also a balm that can be used if your back becomes too sore.
 
"As for relearning the every-day things you are concerned about - sitting, riding, sleeping and so forth, this naturally occurs while the wings grow in and you become accustomed to the added bulk and weight. You will also be taught what strengthening exercises to use as they grow. You will need to practice balancing as they get bigger. Some lads have a hard time with balance.

"As for care of your wings, they must be preened every day, never left wet without a thorough drying and fluffing; and, never, ever try to fly among tree limbs. You are not a tiny, slim little bird.  And most important, remember this, no proper gentlehobbit will leave his hole, smial or cottage without his hair, feet and wings completely groomed." 

"I will remember, Uncle Bilbo. Thank you so much for talking to me about this."

“Any time, Frodo. Now, you have plenty of other things to learn before wings. It is time for your lessons. Off to the study, and begin with the problems you will find prepared for you on the small study table.”

Frodo stood up and stretched and felt behind his back hoping to find the slightest difference. Not finding anything, he guessed it was too soon and headed for the study. Bilbo watched with a twinkle in his eye, remembering how it was to be an impatient youngling.

Frodo walked into the sunny room, played with some of the gaily dancing dust motes and grinned. He picked up the parchment, sat on a chair that his Uncle had kindly cushioned with a comfy pillow and was soon scratching his head over the figures. 

Smiling to himself, Bilbo strolled in, sat down behind his desk, adjusted his wings to the chair and began sorting through a large backlog of correspondence.


Chapter 2 - A MAGIC NIGHT

2.  A MAGIC NIGHT

Bilbo and Frodo spent their winter and early spring getting better acquainted and giving the tweenager time to properly settle into his home at Bag End. The strangeness soon wore off, and under Bilbo's loving guidance, Frodo developed into a contented and happy young hobbit. 

One morning in late spring, Bilbo bustled into Frodo's bedroom and opened the curtains, waking Frodo much earlier than usual. He tickled Frodo's face with the tip  of his wing, “Come on, lad. Get up. We have a busy day ahead of us." 

"I'm coming, Uncle." Yawning, Frodo sneezed, wondering what made this day so special. Crawling out of bed, he shrugged into his dressing gown, scratching his head as he staggered into the kitchen.

Bilbo chuckled, “You will have to do better than that, my boy.  Go wash up and dress while I put on a hearty first breakfast.”

Too sleepy to argue, Frodo complied with a mumbled, “Yes, Uncle.” He stretched expansively, arms extended, hands fisted, slowly rolling his shoulders. Feeling a slight twinge, Frodo twisted around and felt his left shoulder blade in hopes...but no, no little bud. Disappointed, he plodded down the hall towards the bath. 

About an hour later, refreshed and finally wide-awake, Frodo strolled into the kitchen buttoning his shirt and inhaled the wonderful aroma of fried eggs, blueberry muffins, ham, bacon, fried mushrooms, meat pie, toasted cheese bread and... His eyes became wider and wider as he noted all sorts of tasty dishes arrayed on the table.

“Uncle, this is a huge first breakfast. Are we expecting guests?” Frodo asked, assessing the assortment of fresh fruit for just the right apple. Then the just-baked cinnamon twists caught his eye.

“No, Frodo, and neither are we eating all of this at once. Pour the tea, lad, and sit down.” 

"If you would give me the chance, I wager I could consume the better part of what is here, Uncle." Frodo gave his Uncle a hopeful look with large blue souful eyes.

Bilbo laughed heartily, "You probably could, my lad, you probably could."

Tucking in, the two hungry hobbits enjoyed their first meal of the day. As he was munching on another piece of bacon, Frodo asked. “What is special about today, Uncle Bilbo?”

“We are going on a walking-party," Bilbo answered. “We have a bit of adventuring to do and that is all I will say at this time. Gather the dirty dishes and let us be on our way.”

“My first walking trip with you, hurrah!  But, aren’t we going to clean up the kitchen?”

“Mistress Gamgee knows about our plans and said to leave it for her. Today is her day to clean our home and I have left her a bit of a 'thanks' for taking on this extra work.” 

Satisfied, Frodo piled the dishes in the sink and (as Bilbo suspected he would do) tidied a bit for good measure. 

Wrapping up the rest of the food, the two hobbits tucked it into the hiking packs Frodo had discovered near the front door. He took care to make his the heavier one, so his elderly cousin would be more comfortable. Bilbo was not fooled. He smiled to himself, ‘what a good lad I have, such a very good lad.’

 A bit misty-eyed, Bilbo cleared his throat, “Frodo, get your good warm coat. The nights are still a bit cool even this late in the Spring.”

“We are camping overnight!” the delighted tween whooped. At his uncle's indulgent nod, he darted down the hall, skidded into his room, snatched the aforementioned coat, and was back at Bilbo's side before the old hobbit could count to five.

Frodo helped Bilbo don his pack, making sure his cousin’s wings were not hampered. Each arm and wing had to go through a side strap and the strap had to be tightened just right for balance and comfort. Then a middle strap was secured across his chest. Frodo put on his own pack with the same diligence, practicing for when he had wings. 

Watching his tween's efforts with tenderness Bilbo patiently waited for the lad to complete his task. Then the old and grateful hobbit declared, “Now we are ready. Grab your walking stick and we are off!” 

It was two very cheerful hobbits who closed and locked Bag End’s round green door. Outside, the birds were singing their ‘good mornings!’ to the sun, and wild things of all types were taking advantage of the early cool to forage for their breakfast. Rabbits peeked at the travellers anxiously, found no danger in them and continued their grazing. 

After they had gone a fair distance, Bilbo heard Frodo's stomach rumble. He chuckled and indicated that they should stop for second breakfast. He pointed out a grassy knoll up ahead and to the right of the road, a place that afforded them a good view in all directions. 

"There should be a nice patch of wild strawberries up there somewhere, if I remember right," said Bilbo.

When they reached their destination, Frodo pulled a blanket off his bedroll and spread it under a tree, smoothing the edges. He helped Bilbo take off his pack and settle in a comfortable spot on the blanket. 

"There! I see the strawberries, Uncle!" Frodo scampered over to the patch and picked the very few ripe berries he could find. It added a nice treat to their fare. The travellers enjoyed themselves sampling this and that from their supply of food. 

Frodo chortled when he found a small jar of pickled cucumbers that his uncle had snuck into his bag. “My favourite!” 

Bilbo laughed at the delighted gleam in the tween’s blue eyes. “That’s all I could sneak by you, lad. You almost made me have to leave it behind, for I was determined it would be a surprise.”

Bilbo settled himself and his wings comfortably against a tree. He stretched them out and let them droop forward in a relaxed position. He slowly packed the bowl of his pipe with aromatic Longbottom Leaf. Lighting it carefully, he asked, “Are you ready for a tale, Frodo?”

“Hmm?” Frodo had closed his eyes and was too far into a nice, cosy nap in the dappled shade of the tree to respond any further.  Bilbo, quite satisfied with the circumstance, took advantage of the quiet to enjoy his pipe.

After a while, Bilbo shook Frodo awake, “Wake up, Frodo. The morning is slipping by us and we need to be at a certain glade by nightfall.”

Frodo and Bilbo ate a small repast and packed the leftovers (what there were of them) away for later.  Frodo helped his uncle with his pack again, marvelling at the strength in his older cousin’s wings. Bilbo spread and shook his wings to straighten and settle the flight feathers. Every time Bilbo did this manoeuvre, Frodo watched with fascination shining in his eyes. 

“Oh, Uncle, I can hardly wait to have my own pair of wings!”

“You’ll bemoan that statement while they are growing in, Frodo, believe me.”

“I’ll be brave, Uncle. Just you wait and see.” 

“I’ll remind you of that statement when they start budding, lad. Now we must be going.”

The travellers kept a brisk pace until late afternoon, eating fruit, cheese, and muffins while walking. They had stopped for a real meal and rest when Frodo stood up on his tip-toes. He noticed two tall towers peaking through the thick forest northwest of their position. “Now I know where we are, Uncle. We are nearing the road the Elves use when travelling to the Havens…just like in your stories!” 

“You are exactly right, my lad. Tonight, if we are in luck, you will meet Lord Gildor and the Elves he is leading on the first leg of their journey home to Valinor.”

Frodo sat down suddenly at the thought of meeting ’real Elves’ and found it hard to catch his breath for a moment.

“Are you all right, my boy?” 

“Yes, Uncle, I’m fine. It’s so wonderful! I had hoped and dreamed that I would have the privilege of meeting some of the Eldar one day. And now I will!” 

“We’ll eat and rest for a little while, lad, and press on for the glade where we’ll take evening meal with our Elven friends. Myself, I am anxious to hear the latest news. Hopefully, I will be able to surprise you with something else while we are there.” (No amount of gentle coaxing could get Bilbo to reveal what the ‘something else’ was.)

After their repast and rest, they set out for the glade.  Bilbo tucked his wings tightly against his back and unerringly led them through the thick undergrowth. The sun had just started to turn the sky pink, orange and red, when they caught the drift of a song in the breeze rustling through the leaves. 

“Ah, we are just in time,” sighed Bilbo. He pushed through a large natural hedge and they were in the glade.  It was narrow and rather long, the other end just out of sight in the dusky twilight. The stars were starting to glimmer in the darkening sky.

“Well met, Master Bilbo,” said a soft musical voice near where they were standing.

Frodo jumped, but Bilbo, long familiar with the light-footedness of Elves, took it in stride. He turned towards the soft voice and bowed. 

“Well met, Lord Gildor. Let me introduce Frodo Baggins, my kin and heir.” Frodo stared unabashedly at the first immortal being he had ever seen. The Elf-lord was tall and his skin fair. His eyes were deep brown and his hair dark as the night. Frodo thought he saw a soft ethereal glow that hovered about him in a lovely blue aura. 

At this, an awed Frodo bowed and said, “Frodo Baggins, at your service, my lord, and your family’s.” 

“Well met, Frodo Baggins, Come, both of you, and join us in evening meal, tales, and song.”

“Thank you, my lord, we would be delighted,” answered Bilbo divesting himself of his pack. “You go ahead, my lad, and make yourself useful.  Here, take my pack and share all we have with our hosts. I have some business to discuss with Lord Gildor.”

“Yes, Uncle.” Frodo swallowed the lump of trepidation in his throat and approached the camp where several Elves were preparing the firepit and sorting out the foodstuff they had brought. He looked back at Bilbo and Lord Gildor and noticed that they were in a rather deep discussion. While Frodo watched, he saw Lord Gilder slip something small into Bilbo’s hand, which was quickly secreted into an inner coat pocket.

“Master Frodo,” called one of the Elleth, “Come and join us. We will do you no harm.” 

Feeling ashamed of his fear, Frodo swiftly covered the ground between them. He bowed and greeted them with proper hobbit manners.  Then he sat down and opened the packs to spread out their contents. There were many appreciative comments that accompanied each item, especially when Bilbo’s fragrant honey and apple tarts made an appearance. 

Frodo sat shyly among the Eldar drinking in their beauty with shining eyes. He blushed whenever one or another of the Fair Folk smiled at him, embarrassed and delighted at being examined in turn. The Elves saw what he could not. He glowed with an inner light which delighted them and caused not a little bit of curiosity.

Lord Gildor and Bilbo walked up to the group and the Elf-lord made the proper introductions. The company sat down and began to feast. After hunger was satisfied, different Elves began to sing and tell tales. Bilbo was asked to give them a song, which he was delighted to do. The night sky was black velvet and the stars were sparkling like diamonds. A half-moon lit up the glade with silver light. The dew on the grass glimmered like tiny stars.

Bilbo turned to Lord Gildor and whispered, "It is time for us to test the gift that Lord Elrond has sent me." The Elf-lord nodded. Bilbo turned to Frodo, patted him on the back and said, “Come with me, my boy, I have something to show you.”

Feeling a tremour of excitement, Frodo got up and started towards the other end of the glade as his uncle had indicated. Behind him, unbeknownst to Frodo, Bilbo took that small something out of his pocket, unstoppered it, drank its contents and tucked away the empty vial. 

They walked companionably for about twenty minutes before they reached the edge of the glade, which actually ended in a small hill with a flat side facing the camp they had left behind. Bilbo led Frodo up to the top and told him to stand near the edge facing the Elves’ distant fire. He told Frodo not to look back at him under any circumstances. 

Bilbo then backed away from Frodo and said loudly, “Concentrate on the flame and don’t move a muscle, my boy.  This will only take a moment.”  Bilbo took several deep invigorating breaths and spread his wings. He flapped them strongly a couple of times and murmured to himself, “This will do nicely.”  He began to run towards his unsuspecting tween. Just as it seemed he was going to knock Frodo off the hill, Bilbo grabbed the lad around the waist at mid-stride and lifted off. They were flying! 

Frodo was too shocked to make a sound. He caught Bilbo’s arms that were around his waist and hung on. Instinctively, the tween straightened his body to line up with Bilbo‘s. “That’s right, my lad,” Bilbo shouted above the sound of the wind in their ears. "That's just perfect. You have good instincts." 

Frodo now understood what his uncle had been up to with Lord Gildor. Miruvore …his uncle had asked for, and was graciously granted a potion of elven draught to help him fulfil this particular desire. Frodo remembered his Uncle's stories about how wonderful this draught was for 'the Burglar' and his Dwarven companions so long ago.

Tears of gratitude filled Frodo's blue eyes. He knew his dear uncle was too old a hobbit to take him on a ‘high flight‘, but this wonderful soaring glide down the length of the glade was just as good, if not better, because of the love that it expressed. 

Frodo laughed in glee and Bilbo’s laughter joined his as they angled from side to side, their soaring glide augmented by a strong flap of Bilbo's wings from time to time. By and by they made a very dignified landing not far from where the Elves were watching… their delight evident on their smiling faces.

“Oh, Uncle Bilbo, that was the finest surprise ever!” Frodo hugged and kissed his older cousin as tears of joy ran down both of their faces. Their breathing slowed as they stood in each other's arms looking at the sky reliving the wonder of flying together. The elderly hobbit was filled with gratitude that he was able to give his tween such a thrill. Then Bilbo gently pulled out of Frodo’s arms, looked at the sky and said to himself, "I believe I will be able to, just one more time.” He startled Frodo by taking a short run, a strong leap and sharp wing-flap which shot him straight up into the air.  

“Uncle, be careful!”

“Yes, my lad," drifted down from an old hobbit taking a ‘high flight’ for the first time in many a year. He circled up and up, banking right and left in joyful abandon.  He swooped and turned and flew toward the other end of the glade rising so high that he looked like a chubby bird on a night venture.

Lord Gildor placed a reassuring hand on Frodo’s shoulder. “That draught was made especially for Master Bilbo to use for just this purpose, Frodo.  Lord Elrond took special care in its preparation after receiving your uncle's letter of request. Do not fear. It will sustain him through this final ‘high flight’ he has dreamed of making.”

Frodo looked into the ancient eyes of this Eldar and was somewhat comforted; but, he was very glad when Bilbo flew back down and finally landed. He had rosy cheeks from the wind and a smile big as the Shire itself.

Frodo ran up to his uncle and they hugged each other tightly, knowing how important this last ‘high flight’ was...Bilbo wrapped his wings around his tween in ’double hug’, something that especially delighted Frodo.  Whenever Bilbo cocooned him in arms and wings, Frodo could let go (for a precious moment) of any sadness that lingered in his heart  

"Frodo, I was not supposed to be able to make that flight.  Hobbits of ninety and over usually are grounded by frailty in their shoulders and wings," Bilbo spoke reflectively. 

"Oh, Uncle, I am so glad that you were able to fly once again. You look so very happy!"

Bilbo, pleasantly weary, unfolded Frodo and walked over to sit near the fire and preen his wings. Frodo watched and after a bit said, “Uncle, please let me do one, it will be for practice, you know.” Bilbo had no objection, so Frodo busied himself with one wing, while Lord Gildor asked and received permission to preen the other. Lord Gildor watched Frodo work and copied the way he smoothed each flight feather and placed it perfectly in line with the previous one he had preened. Then they straightened any other feathers that seemed tweaked out of place from Bilbo's exertions.

Bilbo closed his eyes and sat in bliss, having surprised his lad so thoroughly, flown 'high' once again, and was now being coddled by his tween and an Elf-lord, no less. ‘What a wonderful beginning to our walking trip this has turned out to be!’ he thought. 

TBC


Chapter 3 - A Happy Day

3. A HAPPY DAY

Lord Gildor smiled. Speaking quietly to Frodo, he said, “Master Bilbo has fallen asleep while we were preening his wings. We must make sure he is lain down properly so as not to undo our work.”

Frodo nodded. Kneeling carefully by the sleeping hobbit's side, he spread out Bilbo's blankets and watched protectively as the Elves laid him gently on the blankets,so gently that the old hobbit's only response was a snort and a mumbled, "...more butter, please!" Once nestled into his coccoon of blankets, he snuggled against his pack (which Frodo had stuffed and shaped into a pillow) and began to snore gently.

“Thank you, Lord Gildor. We have had such a wonderful time visiting with all of you tonight,” Frodo spoke softly. 

“We will have departed before you wake. Master Bilbo should rest as long as he is wont. He may be weary tomorrow after his strenuous exercise this eve.”

“Then I will say our goodbyes now, and wish you a pleasant and safe journey as you guide your friends to the Grey Havens.” 

“Goodnight, Master Frodo. I may see you in the future.”

Frodo, giving a formal bow, said, “Goodnight, Lord Gildor. It would be an honour to meet again and please give our thanks to the others.”

“Indeed, I will.” With that, the Lord Gildor bowed and made ready for his rest. Settling himself on a low branch of one of the great trees, the Elf-lord pondered hobbit-kind. He gazed at the two below him with love and concern. He noted, 'Young Master Frodo carries within himself the same light as the Eldar. I fear a great and terrible task may lie before him. May IIúvator bless and keep him.' 

Frodo checked on Bilbo and then settled himself for sleep laying as close to his Uncle as he could get. He was soon sleeping soundly with a smile on his face.
* * *
The next morning, Frodo was awakened by birds singing with so much zeal it sounded as if they felt tasked with bringing up the sun. Chucking softly, Frodo raised himself up on his elbows to look down at his uncle. Bilbo was still snoring. The morning chorus troubled him not at all. 

Frodo got up and stirred up the fire that the Elves had so kindly banked the night before. He then went to the stream and washed his face and hands. His stomach rumbled. ‘I suppose I had better see about getting a meal on.‘ 

In a short time, he had a good hearty first breakfast sorted out and bacon frying in the pan. He thought while he worked, ‘Let’s see now, here is where I hang the kettle for tea. We can have bacon, warm muffins with honey, cheese…and what is this? The Elves left us some fresh eggs!  I wonder where they got those?’ Frodo shook his head in wonder. He soon had them frying next to the sputtering bacon.

Bilbo stirred as the aroma of hot food and tea tweaked his nose. “Frodo, my lad, that smells wonderful!” 

He sat up and stretched with a mighty yawn. His joints cracked noisily. He stood and swung his arms carefully to wake up reluctant muscles. Stretching and settling his wings into position, he walked over to the stream to wash up. Chuckling, he came back with hands dripping and started flinging water on Frodo for a bit of fun.

“Hey, Uncle, you will get the food all wet!” laughed his tween. “Look, eggs!  Where do you suppose the Elves got these?”

Bilbo chuckled, “Just another mystery, I suppose. Let’s eat. I’m famished.” Silence reigned while the two hungry hobbits made short work of the spread Frodo had prepared. 

Once they were happily satisfied, Frodo commented, “You don’t seem surprised that the Elves are gone.” 

“No, it is always this way. They leave with the first glimmer of dawn and are so quiet that they never have awakened me.”

Frodo‘s eyes danced with excitement, “You’ve made this trip more than once, Uncle?” 

“Oh, yes. I try and see Lord Gildor at least once every six months. I am able to keep abreast of all the news that way. It makes life so much more interesting, don’t you think?” 

Frodo enthusiastically nodded his agreement, “May I come with you when you make this journey again?”

“Why, of course, my lad. Wouldn’t think of leaving you behind!”

His tween hugged Bilbo tightly, “Oh, thank you, Uncle!”  

"You’re … welcome, lad,” Bilbo wheezed.

“Uncle, I'm sorry! I squeezed too hard. Did I hurt you?” 

“No harm done. You just don’t know your own strength, yet.”

At Frodo’s suggestion, the two hobbits decided on a rest before breaking camp. Bilbo situated himself with his back against a narrow tree, wings fanning idly as he puffed on his pipe and hummed snatches of different songs. The morning had turned out quite warm and Frodo was content to lay in the shade and enjoy the slight breeze stirring from his Uncle's wings. 

After a nice long rest, Bilbo leaned forward and stretched “Well, Frodo, it is time to start our journey back to Bag End.” Looking around, Bilbo commented, “Our hosts certainly left us very little work to do.”

He was right. There was no evidence that anyone had camped there overnight with the exception of the small area where their belongings were laid out. 

Mindful of the Elves’ care, the two hobbits used the same diligence in removing all traces of their presence. Special attention was paid to the fire. Bilbo taught Frodo how to make sure it was out and cold before they prepared to leave. They hid it using leaves and dirt.

As they were about to push through the small opening in the hedge, Frodo looked back at the spot where they had camped. “Uncle, I will never forget our first travelling party together. I will never forget last night's magic.” 

His face beaming, Bilbo turned around and wrapped his tween in a delightful 'double hug', arms first then warm, soft wings, completely enfolding Frodo. “There will be other adventures for us to share, my lad. You can be sure of that.” Then tucking his wings and wrapping his cloak snugly around him, Bilbo proceeded to lead Frodo back home.

As they rambled through the forest, Bilbo took every opportunity to improve Frodo's wood lore by teaching him about the small creatures and flora they noted on or near the path. Once, Frodo found himself sitting in the dust when he tripped on a tree root while walking backwards listening to his Uncle. They both were laughing so hard it was a moment or two before Bilbo could give the tween a hand up.

The sun was just beginning to hide behind the hills as they approached Bag End's gate. Bilbo had removed his cloak as they entered Hobbiton and his wings shimmered with hues matching the pinks and oranges in the sky. Sighing in awe, Frodo stroked their softness wistfully. Bilbo, noticing the gesture said, "It won't be long, lad. Take heart." 

"I will, Uncle. It just seems such a long wait." Frodo dropped his hand, the pale feather-dust on his fingers sparkling in the setting sun like mother of pearl

“Oh, bother, what do you suppose that is?” said Bilbo, pointing to a small roll of white parchment tied to the brass knob of the round green door.


Chapter 4 - Sam's Wish / Frodo's Stubs

4. Sam's Wish / Frodo's Stubs

The morning after the two wanderers returned home dawned bright and cheery. Whistling happily, Frodo strolled out of the smial. He looked for Mr. Gamgee and noted that Sam was working by himself. He smiled fondly at the busy lad. “Good morning, Sam, how is it that you are alone today?” 

Sam stood. “Good morning Mr. Frodo. My Gaffer needed to pick up some seedlings early over at Tookborough this morning. He said fer me to come on up and start weedin’ the tater patch.”

“Do you mind if I sit here with you for a while?”

“O’ course not, sir, ‘tis your garden anyhow,” grinned Sam. “Would you have the time to tell me somewhat o’ yer walking party?”

“Oh, Sam, it couldn’t have been better! We saw Elves!”

Eyes growing round as saucers, Sam entreated, “Oh please sir, I would dearly love to ‘ear about it!”

Frodo settled himself to help Sam weed the taters (ignoring Sam‘s flustered objection about it not being proper and all). Spinning his tale, Frodo transported himself and his young friend to the glen. He spun his story so skillfully that Sam could imagine what a flight in Bilbo’s arms would be like.  “It would be somethin‘ like when me da gives me a good lift above his head playful like…” murmured Sam.

Smiling, Frodo commented, “Yes, it would be very much like that, Sam.”

They spent a companionable morning digging in the dirt. Sam was startled when a clod splattered on his hand. “Hoi!” 

Frodo couldn’t help laughing at Sam’s expression. “Sorry, Sam. If you could see your face!” Sam blushed and grinned…that set Frodo off again, and his contagious giggling drew young Sam into the fun. 

They were startled when…“Frodo, my lad, time to come in for elevenses!” called a cheerful Uncle Bilbo (he had been watching his ‘two lads’ and was delighted they were getting on so well).

“Coming, Uncle!” Frodo stood. “See you later, Sam.” Slapping the dust from his britches, he washed up at the well and walked into the back door of the cosy hobbit hole.

Sam watched Frodo disappear through the kitchen door. Humming softly under his breath, he settled under a shade tree and spread out the elevenses his mum had packed. Staring up through the waving boughs, a dreamy look stole into his eyes as he munched on a piece of crispy bread. “I canna’ hardly wait fer my wings to grow!” he whispered to the canopy above him. 

Inside the hole, uncle and nephew were enjoying their own pre-midday repast. Later, while drying the last plate, Frodo asked, “Uncle, what was written on the piece of parchment that was on the front door?” 

“Never you mind, my lad, it was only of importance to me, being of a business nature.” The old hobbit hummed to himself for a moment, his gaze distant. “Odd though, not coming through the Post. Odd…”

Frodo nodded and dismissed the question from his mind. Uncle Bilbo was close about his personal business, and Frodo quashed his curiosity about such.  

Placing an arm around Frodo’s shoulders Bilbo commented, let's make up a few lessons, shall we?” 

Eyes twinkling, Frodo exclaimed, “Yes, uncle! We can start on the Elven languages now, can’t we? After all, I will see them more often and it would be more polite to converse with them in their own language, don’t you think?” 

Bilbo’s laughter filled the smial, “You have a point, my boy! You have a point indeed!”

 * * *
Many long days, weeks and months passed in relative serenity in and around Bag-End. (Except when Frodo’s two younger cousins, Pippin and Merry, were visiting. Their unquenchable cheer, incessant laughter and insatiable curiosity never failed to ‘liven up’ the hole.)

One morning, about the middle of his 28th year, Frodo woke up with an awful itching in his back. He tried to relieve the torment by rubbing his back on the bed as the ponies do when they are rolling in the grass…to no avail. “Now what do you suppose? Is it…?”

Stumbling out of bed and pulling on his dressing gown, Frodo hopped to the door.  He sped into the kitchen, causing Bilbo to flair his wings and slosh water out of the kettle he was just about to put on. 

“My stars and fishhooks, lad!” exclaimed Bilbo, “What is the matter?”

“Uncle, I am sorry to startle you, but I think I am starting to grow wings…at least it itches bad enough to make me wonder!” Frodo’s face was contorting strangely as he tried to scratch his back on the corner of the cupboard.

“Stop that, lad! You will just make your shoulders sore. Here, let me take a look and see if you are right.” 

With a grimace, Frodo shrugged off his dressing gown. He unlaced his nightshirt with trembling fingers so that his uncle could get a good look at his back. ‘Could it be, at last?’ A bit fearful, Frodo held his breath as his uncle began his examination.

Firmly pressing around Frodo’s shoulder blades, Bilbo murmured, “Hmmmm, it seems that you are right, lad. You have small stubs at the right place on each shoulder and the bone of each blade is starting to thicken nicely.”  Bilbo quickly blinked back the tears that threatened, ‘So soon? Has it been that long since Frodo came to be with me?’

Barely restraining himself from leaping up from the chair and dancing all over the kitchen (after all, he would be of age in five years and felt he should show some decorum), Frodo merely cleared his throat. Still, his voice quavered a little as he said, "That is wonderful, Uncle. Now what should I be doing?”  

Smiling at his ‘grown up’ tween, Bilbo instructed, “First, you need to take a nice hot bath every morning to relax the muscles so they can accustom themselves to the new growth. That should also relieve most of the itching. You will need to follow this regimen for at least the next year or so. When the skin starts to break and let the wing bones through, we will apply the balms and salves that will keep the pain at a tolerable level. When you are feeling especially bad, my boy, do not hesitate to ask for willow bark tea. I am afraid you will become either grossly sickened of the taste or accustomed to it by the time you have small wings.”

Twitching his dressing gown back on, Frodo sighed, “So long to have even small ones?”

“Why, Frodo, if they grew in faster and larger than they do at first, your body would not have time to adjust. Patience, my lad. Patience is one of the best virtues growing wings can help you gain.”

“If you say so, Uncle, I will try to garner patience, but you know it is not my strong suit.”

Chuckling, Bilbo patted his lad on the top of the shoulder, “You go and have that bath while I put up some first breakfast and get our day properly started.” Whistling, Frodo walked down the hall, his carriage already more erect as if he was balancing the weight of his wings. 

Sadly Bilbo thought, ‘They grow up so quickly…too quickly it seems.’ He sighed and shook himself, “Humph, Bilbo Baggins, you can not stop the lad from growing with wishes. Now, let me see, what can I prepare to celebrate my lad’s new wings? Blueberry tarts! They will be perfect! Then later on this morning, I can start writing the invitations to Frodo’s ’First Wings’ party.” Delighted with his plans, Bilbo bustled into the larder for the fixings of a grand first breakfast.

TBC
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