Home Stretch
Once Frodo made it clear past Bywater and halfway to Buckland before they realised he was gone. He'd smiled vaguely at Rose-lass (who had unofficially taken over the kitchen while her older sister and parents were away) as she handed him half a loaf wrapped loosely in calico, then had set off for a wander sometime around lunchtime.
An elaborate re-enactment of The Last Alliance meant they hadn't really noticed his absence during most of the long afternoon, and when the sudden twillight caught them by surprise, it was only with a little bemusement that they stumbled inside to find no meal waiting for them, and no Uncle Frodo to give them a crooked smile, insisting they at least wash their hands before eating.
Which wasn't too distressing, really; they knew from experience that he was likely to take some obscure book off with him and get lost in the words until it was too dark to read. Wander back to Bag End as the first stars came out and placidly endure Rosie's soft scolding (which was invariably coupled with a mug of something warm and maybe even a slice of marmalade roll).
By suppertime the younger children were grumbling about the sparse meal of dried apples and cheese, and the older children were ignoring the discontented growls of their own stomachs in favour of something more uncomfortable -- it had been hours since Frodo left. He'd never been away this long, even before Rosie and Sam and Elanor had left and he hadn't had any responsibilities back at Bag End. The younger ones refused to go to bed without "Uncle Frodo" to tuck them in, and Frodo-lad and Merry-lad had just began to argue about who would go out in a search party before a pounding on the door made them all freeze where they stood.
"Hello in there!" called a cheerful voice. "You're not going to let us freeze out here all night, are you?"
Frodo and Rose exchanged a look of relief as Prim shrieked Uncle Merry! - Merry had probably met up with Uncle Frodo on the road and they'd made their way to Bag End together. Goldy wrenched open the door, gazing up a the visitors with a grin that turned rapidly into a frown.
"What's up, buttercup?" Uncle Pippin asked brightly, ducking a little as he came through the doorway. Merry stepped in behind him, brushing stray autumn leaves off his cloak.
"Move it, Meriadoc," came an indignant voice from outside, and Merry grunted a little as he was shoved forward by Stel, Dinny in tow.
"Where's Uncle Frodo?" Frodo-lad blurted, and Stel stopped in her good-natured grumbling about the cold to frown. Merry and Pippin exchanged a surprised glance.
"We were about to ask you the same thing," Merry said soberly, and then Prim began to cry. Daisy put an arm about her shoulders, other hand gripping Sammie's tightly.
"How long as he been gone?" Pippin was already pulling his cloak back on, fastening the leaf-brooch at the throat deftly.
"Just after lunch," Rose-lass said in a soft voice and Pippin nodded once, tilting his head towards the door questioningly as he exchanged a wordless glance with Merry.
"Come on now, bedtime for hobbit lads and lasses," Dinny said cheerfully, herding the children out of the front hall as Merry whispered a few last words to Estella before sweeping back out the door. "All will be back to normal in the morning."
"Rosie," Frodo-lad whispered, and his sister stirred beside him, squeezing his fingers tightly to show she was just as awake as he was. Neither of them had been asleep - or at least they thought they hadn't; not until the dull moan of Bag End's door creaking open on its hinges had startled them both into awareness. It had been dark when they'd been put to bed, and all of them had lain awake for what seemed like hours, until the steady, familiar breaths of the others had lulled the younger ones into slumber at least. Now the moon shone bright through the window, brushing their still forms in blue and silver. Not that Frodo was looking; his eyes straining into the shadows of the room, towards the door.
"Can't rest for long." The voice scraped into the silence of the hall, alien and making Rose start beside him.
"Shh, now." That was Uncle Merry, his voice was deeper but hushed now; it sounded tired.
"Can't rest for long. No where to rest here, they'll find us." That voice again, making Frodo's toes curl and his knees ache to fold up against his body, though he didn' know if he could bring himself to move right now, from the tight coldness of the shivers that gripped his neck. Rose's hand was clammy around his.
"No one can find you here, Frodo, you're safe," and that was Uncle Pippin's thick Tuckborough brogue, his tongue curling differently about the name, Frodo, and --
"Sam. Dear Sam. I'm sorry I had to bring you this far. Even that poor wretch Gollum doesn't deserve to be here. Sam . . ." Frodo-lad swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut tight against the darkness, willing the burst of colour behind his lids to flourish. The voice went on, rough and empty, interspersed with the occassional reasurring hum from Uncle Merry or Pippin; then the sound of people moving about in the room next door; the familiar creak of slats on the bottom of the big bed, the brief scrape of chair-feet being dragged across the floor, then silence.
Rose-lass sighed, long and tense, and Frodo-lad rolled over, throwing an arm carefully over as many children as he could reach. Rose's breath slowed, steadied; her chest rising and falling under his arm as she drifted finally into sleep.
~
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