Hobbits and Wings

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