Chapter 307: A Restless Family
On this day, Bilbo greeted the gardener he had hired and offered his sincerest blessings.
"Sam is truly a chubby little fellow; he will surely grow strong."
Looking at the plump child, Bilbo couldn't help but smile.
But after seeing the little boy, saying his blessing, and just as he was about to turn and open the door to leave the lively household and return home, he suddenly sighed softly for no apparent reason.
Looking at the slightly loose skin on his hand, Bilbo suddenly realized he was no longer young.
And yet he lived alone in Bag End.
The tranquil, quiet, and spacious Bag End.
Shaking his head to dismiss these wandering thoughts, Bilbo returned home, sat in his rocking chair, observed the scenery, and watched the sun slowly set on the horizon, as usual murmuring, "Today's weather is exceptionally clear."
Far away at Buckland, the Took family thought the same.
Indeed, today was a festive day. That evening, a joyful feast was held at the Buckland Hall. Being one of the most prominent hobbits nearby, Took naturally would not miss it.
He brought his wife and children along, and the family ate and drank happily together.
Twelve-year-old Frodo played happily with other children and was so exhausted by the time he arrived home that he collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep immediately.
Although Frodo slept soundly, Took and Primula were wide awake.
The couple gazed at the clear sky, watching the sun set and the moon rise, when an idea suddenly came to mind:
"Let's go boating!"
Blushing slightly, Took imitated a poet's tone, saying,
"Look, the Brandywine River, how beautiful the moon is upon it, how brilliantly the stars shine. If we could sail for a while on it, my dreams tonight will be filled with beautiful scenes."
Clearly, this fellow had quite a bit to drink at the Brandywine feast.
Coincidentally, his wife had also indulged a fair amount.
"Let's go right now!" Primula agreed immediately.
So the two left Frodo at home and rushed toward the river.
On the boat, they sang loudly, laughed, and danced.
Then the boat capsized.
"Help! Save me!"
Heart-wrenching screams echoed, disturbing several patches of grass.
"What's going on?"
A ranger peeked his head out and looked toward the riverbank.
His companion with sharp eyes followed and immediately stood up: "Someone is drowning, don't just stand there!"
They rushed over, plunged into the river, and struggled to pull two fairly plump hobbits onto the shore.
"Fortunately, they're okay."
Looking at the drenched hobbit couple sobbing and embracing on the riverbank, the two rangers lay exhausted on the grass, beads of water dripping from their foreheads.
It was hard to tell whether it was river water or sweat.
The commotion of that night spread widely, and news of Took and Primula nearly drowning traveled fast.
It was the Shire, the most peaceful land in all Middle-earth. People had plenty of leisure time—the news reached the town three doors down the next day.
Bag End.
"The thing about boats is that you can't trust them. Even if you sit still, trouble might come."
This was a remark from Sam's father, gardener Hamfast Gamgee, during a chat with Bilbo.
"Luckily, there were two rangers nearby. Otherwise, Frodo, young as he is, would have become an orphan at twelve."
Compared to Hamfast, Bilbo cared more about something else.
"That child is pitiful."
Thinking of such a possibility, Bilbo shook his head helplessly.
Fortunately, that never happened.
"But that couple was really irresponsible. They left their young child alone at home to go boating."
Bilbo stroked his chin, thinking.
"No, as Took's cousin, I have to talk this over with him."
The idea suddenly came, and Bilbo couldn't sit still. A few days later, he dressed, took a walking stick, and set off east toward Brandywine Bridge.
Took was already old. He was 72 now.
Yes, when Frodo was born, his father was already 60, and his mother was 12 years younger.
The couple was 72 and 60, not exactly young.
As for Bilbo... he could be considered long-lived. Now 90, among the oldest hobbits in the entire Shire.
But even so, the old man was still vigorous and lively.
It's a mystery.
Yet no matter how spirited, he was no longer a young hobbit.
Even Bilbo sighed that he still hadn't finished the afternoon walk from Hobbiton to Brandywine Bridge.
Compared to before, especially that trip to the Lonely Mountain, back then, even if Thorin's company rode ahead, Bilbo could catch up by lunch after half a morning's walking.
Huff.
At dusk, Bilbo took a deep breath and sat by the riverbank.
Yes, the Brandywine River, where Took and his wife had nearly drowned.
Across the river lay the deer lands, but first, rest.
Help! Save me!
Just as Bilbo sat down, a shout came from afar, growing louder, seeming to come from the opposite bank.
"What's going on?"
Bilbo immediately stood, gripping his walking stick.
He took two steps forward and squinted toward the river.
At once, old Bilbo grew serious.
He saw three large, fierce dogs chasing a small child, looking vicious as if they wouldn't stop until they bit him.
Most importantly, they chased none other than his sweet great-nephew—Frodo!
"Child, come here!"
Bilbo ran across the bridge, rushing toward Frodo's position on the other bank.
Hearing the voice like a savior, Frodo scrambled over, clutching Bilbo's clothes tightly.
"Uncle, quick, let's run!"
"Don't be afraid, child!"
Bilbo stood before the three dogs, holding his stick high, angrily shouting:
"Ha! You filthy dogs, get away! I have faced dragons, I'm not afraid of you! If you don't want to tail between your legs—oh wait, you are dogs! Anyway, stay away from me!"
To say the least, perhaps Bilbo did carry some aura. The three fierce dogs hesitated, howled, and slowly backed off before turning tail to run away.
"Hmph, a few mutts! Back then, any enemy I faced would have scared you to death!"
Muttering, Bilbo crouched down to check on Frodo.
Looking closer, he felt sorry.
The boy's feet were muddy, his clothes torn slightly, and his face smudged with dirt—quite miserable.
He trembled, barely able to stand.
"It's alright, child, it's alright. Tell Uncle, what happened?"
With Bilbo's comfort, Frodo gradually recovered. He held out his hand, palm up.
Inside lay two mushrooms.
Hiss—
Furrowing his brow, Bilbo sensed trouble.
"Are these not the delicious mushrooms from the Beanpatch?"
"Did you steal mushrooms from Maggot's house?"
Frodo nodded.
"You silly child!"
Bilbo patted his head, helpless.
Beanpatch mushrooms were famous throughout the Shire. Maggot was the owner, who kept three ferocious dogs to guard the mushrooms, specifically to fend off intruders.
Though childish, Frodo's act was somewhat understandable. It wasn't Maggot's fault.
Guilty indeed.
Ah...
Watching Frodo shiver and cry, Bilbo couldn't bring himself to criticize further. He sighed, turned, and crouched down.
"Come, child. I was just going to visit your house. Let's go together."
Old Bilbo carried young Frodo eastward.
"Uncle, is it true you faced a dragon?"
After walking a while, Frodo, likely calmed down, asked curiously from behind.
This query unlocked Bilbo's lips.
"Of course! In Erebor, the lost dwarf kingdom, I, Levi, and King Thorin faced a dragon taller than a windmill..."
Bilbo narrated while Frodo listened, entranced, imagining the scenes.
"You know Levi?"
Frodo suddenly caught the point.
"Yes, haven't your parents told you? You even saw him. The day you were born—also my birthday—Levi specially came from Roadside Keep to visit me."
"Roadside Keep, I know—it's the home of those two rangers who saved my father and mother!"
Mentioning this, Frodo stopped trembling and grew excited.
His parents hadn't told him this before; today was his first time learning about Bilbo's bond with Levi.
"Please tell me more stories, Uncle."
"Next time."
Seeing Took's house nearby, Bilbo set Frodo down, breathing heavily.
"Oh—Frodo, dear Frodo, where have you been? We were so worried!"
At once, a voice called from afar, quickly approaching.
The Took couple ran over, hugging Frodo tightly.
"You lot!"
Bilbo scolded, full of concern.
"Inside! I need to discuss your recent antics!"