Part Six ~ The Edge of the World ~ 3

It was early evening when the Fellowship arrived in Hobbiton.

Although Gandalf had been visiting Frodo and Bilbo in the Shire for many years, it was the first time that Aragorn had been any closer than the Brandywine Bridge. The Fellowship had often heard the hobbits speak of their home and were glad to see that none of the stories told were an exaggeration. The sun had started to sink behind the horizon when the visitors took the familiar road to Bag End but they were able to see the rolling fields of green and the simple but quaint hobbit homes that lay nestled under lush grassy mounds. The Shire was very much like the hobbits that dwelt there, modest, unassuming and discreet.

Frodo was eager to offer the Fellowship the hospitality of Bag End because until now he had always been the visitor when amongst them. Though Bag End was in no way comparable to the splendor of Lothlorien or Minas Tirith, the hobbit was proud of his home and he wanted to share it with the friends he was certain he would never see again if he accepted Gandalf’s offer to cross the Western Sea. Frodo had not told Sam of his conversation with the wizard on the subject mostly because he was uncertain how Sam would take the news. The hobbit was a devoted friend and though he ceased to be a servant to Frodo a long time ago, he would not understand in the same manner that he had not when Frodo attempted to leave him behind during the quest. If he decided to go then his parting with Sam would be the hardest of them all.

Frodo brushed these thoughts aside for the moment because he had not come to any real decision about leaving the Shire (so he told himself anyway) and concentrated on the pleasure of this small break in their journey that would see him home for a night. Sam was also just as eager to get back to Bag End although he was slightly disappointed that Rosie would not be there. Aragorn had promised to provide her with escorts to the Shire when she decided to leave Minas Tirith and Frodo knew for a fact that Rosie was intending to take in some of the sights of the White City during her stay there.

In the meantime, Sam, Merry and Pippin respectively had taken it upon themselves to explain all aspects, history, present status and current occupation of every feature they happened upon in the Shire. Frodo looked over his shoulder and saw Gandalf shaking his head. The wizard had spent enough time around hobbits to know that it was very ill advised to let them start talking about the Shire in any shape or form. More often than not, it was almost impossible to silence them on the subject once that dam had been released, as the rest of the Fellowship was no doubt starting to learn.

Legolas was listening politely because it was never in the elf’s disposition to be rude if he could help it. Gimli actually appeared interested while Aragorn’s expression seemed to have glazed over and Faramir feigned interest by occasionally making a non-committal grunt that he hoped proved to the others his attention was focussed on their explanations. Frodo considered rescuing the two men, after all, they had enough to worry about with the fates of their wives unknown, to have to suffer the torment of being deluged with every aspect of the Shire’s existence. However, his attention was soon called away by the appearance of Farmer Maggot who was on his way home.

The fact that the man was on foot meant that he had mostly had a little too much to drink at the tavern and was sensible enough not to attempt to ride home. At the sight of him, Frodo noted Merry and Pippin cringing in their saddles somewhat. After all this time, with everything they had done of late to prove they were now respectable members of the community, the duo still felt a little self conscious around the farmer whose crop was once their favorite spoil. Farmer Maggot remembered their mischief enough though Frodo thought that the glare he aimed in their direction was mostly to amuse himself than any real feeling of malice. For Frodo and Sam, he was all smiles, even if he was a little uncertain about the companions that traveled with the master of Bag End. However, he did recognise Gandalf the Grey and was accustomed to the eccentricities of the Bagginses, who since Bilbo had always made strange acquaintances.

"Hello Farmer Maggot," Frodo greeted politely, wondering if the man actually had a first name since he always voiced the preference for ‘Farmer Maggot’.

"Hello Frodo," Maggot beamed. "Hello Sam, I see you’ve brought some worldly folk with you to the Shire. Hello Gandalf."

"Hello Farmer Maggot." Gandalf said graciously. "How goes the crop this year?"

"Oh very well," Maggot replied enthusiastically, pleased by the inquiry. "The crops much better now that I don’t have ragamuffins scrounging the best of it." He glanced at Merry and Pippin as he made that statement.

"Maggot," Frodo glanced at the others with him. "I’d like to meet …"

"Strider," Aragorn spoke before Frodo had the chance to introduce him as the king. He would rather be known for himself while he was here and not as King Elessar Telcontari and all the other titles he had acquired in his kingship.

"Please to meet you Strider," Maggot grinned. "Would you be an elf?" He stared at Legolas.

"Yes," Legolas nodded, supposing that the ears were difficult to hide.

"I saw an Elf once," Maggot replied. "It was back when I was younger and I went to Bree."

Before Maggot recounted the whole story as hobbits tended to do if given the opportunity, Frodo went on to introduce Faramir and Gimli. Maggot seemed genuinely pleased to meet the new arrivals and asked them questions about the lands from which they originated. Since the War of the Ring and the mischief of Saruman in the Shire, the hobbits were not as inclined to ignore the goings on in the outside world as much as they used to. While they would always be an insular people, the general feeling that it was wise to keep an eye on events beyond the Shire if only for the reasons of safety, was now a popular one.

"Well this must be the season for it," Maggot said after awhile.

"What do you mean?" Frodo asked.

"Well that’s two elves is as many days," Maggot replied innocently.

"Another elf has been through here?" Sam inquired because elves did not normally come through the Shire unless there was a very good reason for it. Even when they traveled to the Grey Havens, they did so without ever entering Hobbiton itself.

"Yes, one of three fine ladies," Maggot replied.

"Ladies?" Aragorn asked, his interest suddenly sparked with hope. "When?"

"About two days ago," the hobbit responded sensing some urgency in the question. "One was an elf I’m told, very pretty. Old Proudfoot said they stayed at his inn, and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, long dark hair and eyes like pools of sapphire."

"Arwen!" Aragorn exclaimed knowing that description of his wife all too well. "Arwen was here!"

"We don’t know that," Faramir retorted, not daring to hope such a thing without further evidence. "He said there were three of them. Arwen and Eowyn left Minas Tirith alone. What about the other two?" He looked at Maggot for explanation hoping that Aragorn was right that somehow in the course of their travels, Arwen and Eowyn had acquired another companion to accompany them on their quest.

"I don’t know very much," Maggot replied, able to relate only what he had been told by Old Proudfoot. "The other two were dressed like men, wearing breeches, one carrying a sword and the other, some strange sort of weapon, what did Proudfoot say she called it?" He thought hard for a moment before his eyes lit up with the answer. " That’s right, a crossbow."

"A crossbow?" Legolas frowned, not recognising the description. "What manner of weapon is that?"

"An Easterling weapon," Aragorn volunteered. During the War of the Ring, some of the Easterlings of Harad who fought for Sauron had employed such weapons.

"A strange turn of events," Gandalf remarked contemplatively. "It appears that Arwen is capable of finding allies as well as you Strider."

"Well at least its good news!" Pippin exclaimed. "She’s alive!"

Aragorn did not speak for a moment because he was too overcome with relief that Arwen still lived. He had refused to believe that she could be dead from fear of sheer despair if it were true. The king exhaled deeply, dispelling with it the remaining constriction that had gripped his heart since he arrived at Imraldis to learn that Arwen had not arrived. He had fought desperately the urge to submit to reason, to confess to the reality that she might have fallen to the peril within the Misty Mountains and knew he would die if it were the truth. However, now he had proof that the only thing that meant anything to him still walked among the living and in knowing that, felt himself suffused with the strength to continue.

It was a feeling well shared by Faramir whose silence also expressed his intense gratitude for the continued survival of his wife and both men touched each other’s eyes briefly, feeling a kinship that was deeper than blood at that moment.

"Come on then," Frodo spoke up, noticing the awkwardness of the moment that Farmer Maggot could not understand but all the others felt, wishing to propel them past it because they should be rejoicing the news. "If we’re going after them, we’d best get on home."

"Here, here," Merry agreed, glad to know that Eowyn was alive and well. Even though he did not love her as her husband, they had fought together and he considered her a friend. Now that they were assured of her safety, he wanted nothing more than to celebrate that fact with the others who cared about her.

"Lead on then," Aragorn smiled and it was the first one he had produced in the last few days that actually warmed his face. "Let’s see Bag End."