CHAPTER IV "A Name for all Occasions."

…4 days later…

Sam opened the door to Bag End with a heavy heart and looked up as Rosie rushed over, looking at him hopefully. “No…No he’s gone, Rosie. We’ve looked everywhere.”

Rosie shook her head nervously, “He can’t have got far, Sam…not in his condition. Oh…I should not have left him alone that night. I knew he was sick, Sam…”

“There lass…twas not your fault.” Sam comforted her gently, putting an arm around her.

And it was that moment that there was a rap on Bag End. “Are you expecting anyone, Sam?” Rosie asked.

“Could be Mr.Merry…They were searching the main road near Buckland…” Sam went to the door and his mouth dropped open when he opened it. Twas not a hobbit that stood in front of him. He was completely speechless.

It was Aragorn…and behind him was Arwen…and behind them were several soldiers of Gondor. “Well Master Samwise, its good to see you too.” Aragorn reached over and grabbed the surprised gardener pulling him into a hug and lifting him up. “This must be Rosie…” he grinned at the lass who was gazing up at him in utter surprise. Sam regained his senses a little until Arwen walked over…holding something in her arms in a blanket. “Where’s Frodo?” He looked back into the hobbit hole as though expecting to see the Ringbearer huddled somewhere inside.

They had come in a big carriage bearing the seal of the King of Gondor, Arwen and her small bundle had been riding in that while the soldiers and Aragorn had been on horseback. And the small bundle that Arwen was holding gave a gurgle and a cry. A baby…Rosie’s eyes went wide.

Sam’s expression changed to a grim one as he and Rosie exchanged looks. “He’s not here…”

Arwen’s face had been all smiles until Sam’s words, “Not here? Where is he?” She seemed quite anxious, and Aragorn lay a hand on her shoulder as he rubbed his face.

“What do you mean he’s not here, Sam? What has happened?” Aragorn’s gaze became one of deep concern as he had certainly not expected Frodo to be gone from Bag End. Arwen had been worried because Frodo had not answered their last letter and had insisted they travel to him. He had been not entirely sure of it, wanting to send people to Frodo instead, not wanting Arwen to have to travel, but she had shaken her head gently and said that they could use a carriage.

“I don't right know how to explain it, Your Majesty..." Sam began, stammering quite a bit as this had been the last thing hed expected to see today. Rosie was in the process of helping Arwen to a chair inside Bag End while their human escorts remained outside. She leant over the baby and gave a small exclamation of surprise when his bright blue eyes blinked up at her sleepily and he yawned.

Distracted momentarily, Sam turned back to Aragorn, “He was…upset.” He tried to explain but found he really wasn’t all that good at stumbling over the truth. “He did not receive anything in the mail that…” He tried -not- to look accusing, but it was difficult for Sam Gamgee to hide his feelings at times. “He has also been ailing lately, though he refused to admit it. Something to do with his throat. And one night four days ago he slipped out on his own. Packed a satchel and left us a note. He said he was headed to Gondor…that he couldn’t wait any longer.”

“No mail?” Aragorn exchanged a look with Arwen, “But we sent for him months ago…he didn’t come. We could not wait any longer so we came to him. We were gong to send a carriage for him, but Arwen wished to come personally and as things have quieted down a bit, I could be here too. If he had started on the road…” The King paced, “We would have seen him. He could not have got that far…”

“Begging your pardon, Your Majesty…but we have been looking all over the Shire for him…and have found no trace.” Sam sighed. “I don’t know what to make of it.”

Arwen gazed over at Aragorn as he spoke with Sam her lips compressing in worry, “If Frodo was ill….he would not make it far at all. Where would he have gone first?”

“Bree.” Aragorn thought after a moment. “He would have gone to Bree for a pony.”

“Aragorn…” Arwen met her husband’s eyes, “We must find him…”

“No…I’ll go. You stay here with the baby.” The King of Gondor said to his wife softly, “Our Little One needs a good nights rest.”

And the blue eyed baby giggled when Rosie reached over to tickle his cheek slightly. She was -enchanted-. What a beautiful little elf baby….then the covers of his blanket edged away and Rosie noticed the little baby’s feet and her face flushed BRIGHT red.

She tried to hide her embarrassment but it was no use. She herself was pregnant with Sam’s child…and she knew that elven and human feet did -not- look like that and she raised her eyes to meet Arwen’s.

The Queen smiled gently at the hobbit lass and nodded at the question in her gaze. “Yes.” but she did not finish the answer, tucking the blanket back around the small tired bundle. At Aragorn’s words Arwen frowned. “I cannot let you go after Frodo alone, the two of us can cover more ground together, Aragorn.”
Rosie smiled gently as she reached out for the child, “I will take care of him.” she offered softly, all of previous embarrassment leaving her face. If this was indeed Frodo’s child she would gladly take care of him no matter how he came into the world. “What is his name?”

“His name for us is Aduial.” Arwen said softly, “It means Twilight. That is his name in Rivendell, His name in Gondor is ‘Tinwedelher.’ which means ‘Small elf Lord‘, and we gave him one other name for the Shire, ‘Bungo.’”

“Well, little Bungo.” Rosie cradled the baby in her arms smiling at the Queen, then she bit her lip softly. “Find him…please…If any one can…your husband can.”

“We will.” Aragorn nodded firmly. “Sam, I’d appreciate it if you took care of our escort here. We’ll be back.” he walked over to the child Rosie held and kissed the little baby’s forehead then took his wife’s hand. Arwen did the same to the small bundle.

“I know you will take good care of him.” she said softly to the wife of Frodo’s best friend.

Rosie nodded gently, “Do not fear, he will be safe with us.”

And so Aragorn and Arwen prepared to find the errant halfling saddling two horses and throwing together a pack of what they might need…depending on what they would find…if they found anything at all.

* * *

As far as the Baggins was concerned…Frodo was riding a pony that he had purchased in Bree…and was not entirely happy that he had done so. Perhaps…well…maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t ridden in so long. He coughed again sighing as he reached for his canteen, there wasn’t any more juice…he’d used that up the first few hours out of Bree. The man who had sold him the horse seemed concerned about him and had tried to talk him out of it, but once Frodo had set his mind to something it was nearly impossible to shake him out of it.

He swayed slightly….they were just now coming upon the Marshes and this was the part of the journey Frodo really did not relish. He hoped he could remember the way. All he had to do was get to the road that led to Rivendell, perhaps stop there for a day…and continue on. There were no black riders to worry about. It would be faster if he cut across the Marshes too. He didn’t really want to meet anyone on the road after all.

Frodo sighed…this was the part he really hated…the Mosquitos. He had been bitten once or twice already and was now wearing his cloak full over his body trying to avoid the critters. They swarmed around him however nearly blurring his vision….and they definitely scared the heck out of his pony.

The poor beast gave a cry and suddenly took off through the wild, carrying the startled hobbit with it. Desperately Frodo tried to rein in the horse, but to no avail. In his current state…Frodo had no real ability to calm the animal and eventually there came a point where it made a jump over a fallen tree…and the hobbit lost his grip.

Frodo sailed from the top of the pony and landed in a heap by a tree where soft moss was growing…at least it had broken his fall. The hobbit groaned trying to pick himself up, but he was feeling extremely dizzy…and the mosquitos had found him again. Frodo shivered and pulled his cloak around him covering his legs and arms and head as he huddled at the foot of the tree, coughs wracking his slender frame.

Maybe the pony would come back…when darkness fell perhaps the mosquitos would go away… Tears welled in his eyes as the pain in his throat became extremely difficult to bear.

So he lay there for a while, curled by the foot of the tree while the hungry mosquitoes of the Misty Marshes waited to feed upon exposed flesh buzzing madly around him.

TBC….

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