"Don't call anyone, Mom, " Jake muttered as he poured from the kettle.
"What?" Her eyebrows went up.
"Don't call anyone. You haven't yet, have you?"
"I looked up some numbers, but no, not yet."
"Don't, Mom." Jake turned to the phonebook on the counter, closed it and put it away. Then he took the notepaper the numbers were written on, and folded it into his own pocket.
At that her eyes flashed. "Jacob Michael!" she hissed, and he immediately froze, took the paper out and offered it to her. "Sorry. I'm sorry, mom, please forgive me, that was wrong. But you can't call anybody. I mean, please don't. Please. It's really important."
"Young man, you had better explain yourself, " she responded with quiet ice. "Put the paper in the drawer."
He obeyed. "Okay, Mom. I'll explain. But please, Mom, just wait, okay?"
She did not answer, but her eyes softened, and she turned her focus back to filling the sugar bowl.
He turned to the table, where Bolco was watching them nervously. Rats, Jake thought, he had been so relaxed coming in. The guy was as easy to spook as a young horse. He brought the cups of tea over and sat down where he could see both Bolco and his mother at once, and tried not to worry, and held a short conversation with God (Please, let her understand, and please, keep Bolco safe and sound and quiet and protected.)
Janiece brought over the honey, a jug of milk and the sugar bowl, and the "boys" held their mugs to warm up their hands between sips. Bolco wondered about the sudden tension, but he was cold and growing weary again. (Please, he asked the Creator, bring the peace back. In me and in them. )
"Mom, " said Jake, "What are angelic bodies like?"
Wow, that was a left fielder, Janiece thought, and she turned to see Bolco listening harder than Jake for the answer.
"Well, their bodies are spiritual bodies, " she began, "not like ours."
"Not flesh and bone."
"I don't think so."
"Then how can they carry things?"
"Do angels carry things?"
"I thought they did."
"I'd have to look it up."
"Didn't they eat as Abraham's guests?"
"Well, perhaps they did. But I really don't think they are flesh and bone. Not like us."
There was a pause, and Bolco shifted. "Then they can't be elves at all. Elves are flesh and bone, and they can't fly."
"Well, I know, " Jake said, "But I think they're maybe like elves in some ways. Maybe I'm wrong."
"The flying, " Bolco replied. "I don't know any race that can fly. Except some of the really bad ones I've heard dark stories about."
"Angels can definitely fly, " Jake responded. "They definitely have wings."
Janiece held her tongue and listened; she was suddenly outside this conversation.
Bolco put one hand to his chest, and sipped tea with the other. Jake fidgeted. "I could read you the story out of the book. I didn't get everything right, I think."
Bolco shivered, folding his arms tight. "I should like that very much," he said. "But Jake, I'm afraid I might fall asleep. I'm chilled and quite tired. Perhaps the tea will wake me up a bit."
"Why don't you sleep?" Jake said. "Wash up quick and then get some rest. I'll show you around the washroom and explain everything. You can sleep in my room if you want, it's really quiet."
Bolco was relieved. "Thank you, Jake. Yes, I'd like that very much. Janiece, thank you for the tea." She nodded. He drained his tea and stood up. Jake led him downstairs.
Janiece followed at a distance, not quite knowing what to think. What elves had to do with angels, she had no idea, but she supposed Bolco's earthy, agriculture-based society might still hold onto some rather old myths. Getting Bolco cleaned up and rested was the priority at the moment.
Jake was slowly and patiently demonstrating faucets and doors and drains and soaps; Bolco paid wide-eyed attention. Jake showed him the shower, but Bolco plainly preferred the bath. "The bathtub is the largest I've ever seen, " he said quietly. Janiece offered a large thick towel and several washrags, and Jake took them and passed them to Bolco and continued.
"I'll get you some stuff to wear while we wash your clothes, and clothes you can sleep in, " said Jake. "Wait ‘til I do; then drop your clothes outside the door. We'll wash them when you're done with the water."
"Thank you, " Bolco said. "And, Jake?"
"Yeah?"
"If I'm not out in another hour, knock on the door to wake me up."
"Okay. No problem. I'll be right back. You can start running the bathwater."
"Running?"
"Turn the faucet on and start filling the tub."
"Ah."
Jake disappeared, and Bolco caught Janiece's eye. "Janiece."
"Hmm?"
"I do feel safe with Jake. I feel safe here, " he said, looking around. "Thank you. You are very kind."
They studied each other, and she softened somewhat; then remembering how hard she had worked to win his trust, she let go of the rest of her tension, and gave him a really warm smile. "I want you to feel safe here, Bolco," she said. He smiled, and turned to the tub, and with a visible act of the will, reached for the faucet. She watched him working carefully and slowly to adjust the water temperature-- Bolco wanted it as hot as he could stand it--, and thought, give it time. Let Jake explain. Let it go.
Jake returned with an odd assortment of clothes; he had cut short a pair of blue drawstring sweats, and there were several shirts and a pair of shorts and some other exercise clothes. He piled them all in a corner with the sweats on top, and said, "We'll figure out some better ideas later. If you need anything, open the door and shout, okay?"
Bolco smiled wide. "Thank you, Jake."
"And if the water gets too cold, drain some out--" he pointed to the drain lever-- " and add more hot."
Bolco laughed, and Jake and Janiece closed the door behind them and went upstairs.
Bolco studied the clothes in the corner; they were odd, but large and baggy and would cover him. If he could wear the oversized coat, he could manage with these. Some of the shirtsleeves were too short for decent modesty around Janiece, but there were longer ones he could roll up to his wrists. He looked at the sudsy, steaming bath, which was almost full enough, with a mixture of wonder and relief. He decided to soak until his feet were the cleanest they had been since last summer, when he and Lilac had gone wading up and down the Bywater sandbars. And with that, he turned off the faucet, dumped his clothes outside the door, shut it, and stretched full length in the huge tub, folding his arms behind his head. He was asleep in minutes.
Jake and Janiece had barely gotten to the top of the stairs when Jake burst into soft but frenzied speech. "Mom, we can't send him anywhere. We can't turn him in to anybody. We've got to let him stay here. He trusts us. He feels safe here. We've got to protect him."
"Okay, okay. Slow down. Why do we need to protect him? Against what?"
"He's vulnerable, Mom. He's shy. "
"Of course he is. But he needs help, and we need to find him the kind of help that's best for him."
"Mom." Jake stopped. She waited. "Mom, don't you think.... Doesn't he remind you of something?"
She wasn't going to help him out of this. "Hmmm?"
"Mom." She waited. "Mom..." Oh, God, he thought; Oh, God, oh, God. "You remember the books you read to me when I was a kid. You read them to all of us."
"Mmmm hmmm."
"Mom." He stopped, blushing. He couldn't say it.
"Well?"
"Mom, do you... do you remember the name Bilbo?"
She frowned. "Bilbo? Bilbo Baggins?" She stopped, and thought. A frown began. "Bilbo Baggins." She nodded, now grim-faced.
He thought he was going to die. (Oh, God.) He waited.
She took a deep breath, faced him head on, angry, and lectured hard. "Jake, don't you go buying into some fantastic fairy tale idea, just because he's short, confused, and rustic-looking. For heaven's sake, be serious. Yes, he is short and yes, he has big hairy feet. He comes from an agriculturally based society; he plows fields and picks fruit for a living. Of course he's rustic, and that's very charming. But use your head. He needs help. And we are going to get him the help that he needs. We are going to do what is best for him." She glowered at him. "You haven't mentioned this hobbit idea to him, have you?"
"No, Mom. That's just it. I never had to. He talks like one. He seems to think like one. I think he thinks he's one."
"And you don't think that he needs help if that's the case?" she snapped.
"Mom, I'm not the only person around that loves those books. If he thinks he is one, and other people think that he is one, he'll have no peace. They'll hound him."
That gave her pause. If Bolco, with his wide-eyed innocence, diminutive stature, and hairy feet, had unintentionally convinced her intelligent and well-balanced son-- how could he be so thoroughly snowed?-- that he was the essence of hobbitry, many more people (well-intentioned or not) could follow suit. That could be difficult. And Bolco was so terribly shy. It would be very hard on him. She sighed.
"Mom, you said he comes from an agriculturally based society. How do you know that? Did you ask him about where he is from?"
"Yes, I did."
"What did he say?"
Her reply was cold steel. "Well, he did not say he was from the Shire. He said he was from a place called Tuckborough."
Jake's jaw dropped. "Get out!! He SAID that???"
"JAKE!"
"Sorry, " Jake moaned and wrung his hands. "I'm sorry, Mom, I didn't mean to be disrespectful, please forgive me. But did he REALLY say Tuckborough? Did he??"
He's way too agitated, Janiece thought. What had she gotten them into? What was this stranger doing to her son? Her head would start spinning, soon.
Jake covered his face with his hands, prayed like blazes, and then looked into his mother's eyes, and pleaded with her. "Mom, please, please. Give him space and time. I'll help with everything. Please, just let him be for a while. Let's get to know him and find out what he really needs. Please." And then he silently prayed again, "PLEASE."
Janiece fought back some tears, took her son's hands in her own, praying silently for her own sanity and that of her son; and then she added aloud, "Lord Jesus, give us wisdom. Show us what to do. Keep us safe--" here she opened her eyes and glared at her son-- "And sane, and level-headed. " She paused.
Jake continued. "Help us to earn Bolco's trust, and respect his privacy." He met his mother's eyes.
She closed the prayer and sighed, replaying the morning's events, and decided that she could wait and watch and pray, and give her son time. If he had been less taken with Bolco, she reasoned, she would be taking Bolco's side and trying to win Jake. Jake did not normally connect with people this quickly. Things had already turned out far differently than she had expected. She sighed again.
"I will give you and Bolco some time."
Jake burst with gratitude. She let him express it for a few sentences, and then she cautioned him. "I did not say how much time. That is up to me. I don't want you filling his head with crazy ideas, do you understand that?"
"Yes, Mom."
"About that earlier conversation, about angels' bodies. Who brought up the idea of elves?"
Jake's face fell. "I... umm... I did. But Mom, he knew right away what I meant."
She blazed. "No more. I don't want you mentioning hobbits or dragons or dwarves or wizards, or anything else from that book. Is that clear?"
It felt like a death sentence, but he knew arguing would make things way, way worse. "Yes, Mom. But... Mom-- "
Icy Fire.
"Mom, what if Bolco brings up any of that stuff?"
"Then you tell me about it."
Jake pleaded for mercy with his eyes, but she did not budge, nor would she. Death sentences were like that. "Yes, Mom."
"Well, then." She brushed her hair back and took a deep breath. "I want you to go downstairs, and wash those clothes of his with the gentlest soap we've got-- but plenty of it-- on a delicate setting. Cold water only. Those are homespuns. Check them, if any of them are wool set them aside. I don't dare dry his clothes either, so I hope he will be happy in your clothes for a day or so. Check the clothes when they are done, look at them and smell them. If they are not completely clean, put them on the delicate cycle again.
"And now I am going to go and have a quiet time. Take care of Bolco; remember this discussion. Understand?"
"Yes, Mom." She went upstairs.
He went downstairs, seized the clothes-- no wool, he thought-- dumped them into the washer, threw in the soap, remembered the cold water and delicate setting just in time, and then bolted into the family room and turned on the computer. While it was booting he went straight to the second shelf and seized two battered paperbacks.
Tuckborough.
There wasn't much to find. A computer search yielded little, the books little more. Tuckborough was south of Hobbiton, and east of Green Hill Country. The Smials were run by The Took, and they were large, and the extended Took family lived there. There was a genealogy in the back of the book, but Bolco's name wasn't in it. He sat down on the couch (one of those adjustable futons) and thought a bit.
The washing machine finished; he added more soap and restarted it. Then he reread two chapters, hastily, finding little he thought helpful. He sighed and put the books away. The machine finished again; he drew out the clothes, shook them out, and hung them on the rack; they looked fine. He checked his watch. It had been an hour.
He knocked on the door. Bolco's sleepy "Thank you" was followed by a shivering "Ugh" as he realized the water was now cold.
"You okay?" Jake asked.
"Yes, " Bolco said, "But I'm chilled again."
"Drain it, and draw another whole hot bath, " Jake said.
"Enough to finish with, at least... all right." The drain valve clacked. While the water drained, Bolco put the washrags to good use, with more soap. Ten minutes later he was drying off. His feet, he thought, were even cleaner than this summer. He dressed, layering three shirts against the chill, glad that the cutoff sweats were warm. They came all the way down to his ankles. He emerged holding the rest of the clothes.
"Hi, " said Jake. "Where do you want to sleep? The couch, or my room?"
Bolco did not want to inconvenience Jake, but the thought of a protective door had a deep appeal. He hesitated.
"I could put the couch in my room, " offered Jake. Bolco brightened. Jake nodded. When had he felt this protective about anybody before? He got busy. He took the mattress off, and picked up the frame and carried it in. Bolco tried to help him. The futon was a queen size, and if he opened it there'd be nowhere to walk. "Set it up like it was, couch-like, " Bolco said. "I really don't need a man-sized bed." Then Jake carried the futon in, folded it and unfolded it a couple of times to fluff it up.
"We can fold some quilts on it to make you more comfortable. The futon gets pretty compressed after a while," Jake said, and fetched several quilts, some sheets, a pillow, and rigged a comfortable sleeping space for somebody under four feet tall. Bolco's gratefulness overflowed and he felt at a loss for words, but he turned within, and thanked The Creator silently, and then thanked Jake out loud.
"No problem, " Jake said. "Um, I have some reading to do, you don't mind if I stay, do you? If I leave, I'll close the door."
Bolco nodded, suddenly feeling safer than he had in a long time. Peace flooded him, and he lingered in that moment, anticipating the pillow, letting the peace and weariness sink in.
Jake collected some books, and sat on his bed, but then fidgeted again. "Can I, um, can I pray for you?"
"Pray for me?" Bolco didn't understand the word "pray".
"Umm, yeah. I-- I just wanted to ask God to watch over you."
"The Creator?"
"Yeah."
"All right."
"Lord Jesus, please, let Bolco sleep well, and keep him, like, really really safe and sound, amen."
Bolco pondered that, remembering. Jesus-- that was the baby from the Christmas story that the fir tree was for. The son of the Creator, born in a stable, and sung over by elves. No, not elves, angels. They flew. Angels in the sky, with wings, because of that baby. He wondered who that baby grew up to be, and what he did, and why he had gotten sung over so much. The warmth and peace within Bolco grew stronger, and thinking about those winged elves-- no, angels-- singing over that baby, he climbed in to the best bed he'd had in days, with one new friend watching over him on the outside and another friend in his heart. Bolco did not drop off to sleep as fast as he thought he would, but he closed his eyes, and when his tears flowed, he knew Who they came from.
Janiece looked in to the family room, noticed the lack of a couch, and proceeded to Jake's room. She saw Jake reading quietly, curled up against the headboard, and on the transplanted couch, Bolco was buried in a confusion of quilts. She saw only a few brown curls.
"Jake."
He set his books aside, and came out the door, and pulled it closed behind him. She raised an eyebrow, and he said, "I promised him if I left the room I'd close the door."
She thought a moment. "All right, for now. " She paused. "Come upstairs."
He obeyed, and they sat down at the kitchen table.
"Honey, I want you to think about some things."
"Okay, Mom."
"First, I want you to ask yourself, who Bolco belongs to, and why is he here."
"He belongs to God, Mom. And he's here because he needs our help."
First answer was good; second incomplete. "Why our help? Why not someone else's help?"
"But Mom, God sent him here, to us. Not to somebody else."
"Okay. So we're agreed that he belongs to God, and God sent him to us."
"Yes."
"Does that mean he belongs to us?"
"N-no, " Jake wondered where this was going. "But he's our friend. So in that sense he does. "
"Jake, " she said, "I want you to focus on what the Lord wants, and not on what you think he wants. Listen to the Lord. Try to hear him as best you can. Ask him for guidance and help."
Silently, Jake thought, "Oh, have I, and oh, will I." Out loud he said, "Yes, Mom. I will."
"All right." She knew he had heard her; of all her sons, he was the best listener. Janiece sat back. Her hour of prayer had been sorely needed, she thought, and she wanted God to win in each and every situation in this house. She thought of something else. "What made him ask about the angels?"
"Out in the pine tree, he asked me about Christmas, and what it had to do with Fir Trees."
She smiled.
"I told him the story of Jesus' birth as best I could, and tried to talk about how the evergreen trees symbolize eternal life. I'm glad he's interested in hearing it out of the book, though. He asks good questions. Mom, can I go back downstairs now?"
"He's asleep, " she said, bemused.
"I know, " he replied. "I can't explain it. Maybe it's what you told me about the hard time he had getting here, and him getting into a fight out in the woods with some bully. I don't want to leave his side, not even while he is asleep."
"Hmmm." She thought, and prayed, and he waited. Love always protects, her mind echoed; always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. "What will you do?"
He laughed. "Try to study, and fail miserably."
She smiled, but without much humor. "Try a little harder, " she said, warning him with her eye contact that his school had better not suffer over this whole thing.
"Yes, Mom." Okay, so it wasn't as funny as it had first seemed. He took a deep breath, and rose.
"One more thing, Mom."
"What?"
"What about Josh and James?"
"What about them?"
"What if they drop by this weekend?"
"Then they drop by."
Uh-oh, looks like I better not go there. Better just pray hard. "Okay, Mom."
He disappeared down the stairs, and she pondered how differently her day had gone than she had planned. No phone calls to doctors or to counselors, no visits to local clothing stores or to shoe stores, and all because of her son's instinctive protectiveness. Well, Bolco needed the sleep anyway, and he did not seem like the type to enjoy shopping. She decided to check on Bolco's clothes and measure them; they were drying slowly but steadily. When she went to find the measuring tape it was not in the sewing kit where it belonged. She poked her head inside Jake's door.
"Where's the measuring tape from my sewing kit?"
He held it up. "I measured his clothes." He held up the paper with the measurements. "I figured we could look his size up in a catalog or something."
Didn't she get to have any fun with this at all?, she laughed, realizing she was disappointed. Oh, Lord, have mercy on my selfish soul. "Good thinking, Jake, " was what she said out loud. And then she went back upstairs, got her bible, and went back to her room to pray some more.
Jake tried to focus back on his textbook, but Bolco stirred, and sat up. Jake expected him to look more rested than he did.
"I'm glad you're came back, Jake, " Bolco said, hugging his blankets to his stomach.
"Haven't you slept?"
"Not much. I've been thinking."
"About what?"
"The Christmas story. I know I said I needed some sleep first, but I did sleep in the bath. Would this be a good time for you to read the story to me?"
"Yeah!" Jake sprang off the bed and fetched a thick book, and sat back down.
"That's a big book," Bolco observed. "Is it all stories about the Creator?"
Jake looked up at him. "Yeah."
"All of it? How many stories are there?"
"I don't know. A lot. Wars, romances, famine. Kings, nations, prophets."
"Have you read it all?"
"A couple of times."
Bolco leaned forward. "Jake... how many of those stories can you tell me?"
Jake didn't know what to say. "Well, I-- let's just start with this one, okay?"
Bolco waited, contentrating on being patient. Jake flipped pages, considering. Luke, Luke. How far back should he start? "How awake are you?"
"Quite wide awake."
Gabriel and Mary, Jake decided. He read slowly, and Bolco listened silently, digesting, as Jake progressed through Mary's visit to Elizabeth, the trip to Bethlehem, the birth in the stable, the angelic host, and the visit of the shepherds. He ended there.
"I wish I could read your books, " Bolco said. "I should like to think about that story quite a bit."
"I don't mind reading it to you, " Jake said, very truthfully. "But is there a way I can help you to read it?"
"I'm a slow reader even at home, " Bolco sighed. "I don't work very hard at it. Peregrin gets angry with me sometimes about my lack of progress. So I don't think I should ask you to teach me your runes. Perhaps if you read it very slowly, I could write it down myself."
Silence. Peregrin Who? Jake couldn't ask what he was dying to ask, and he had all he could do to sit still. What could he say? He bit his lip, he crossed his arms over his suddenly churning stomach, he willed himself to obey his mother. If Bolco lived in Tuckborough, who else would he be talking about besides Peregrin Took? Don't think about it, he berated himself; it will only make it worse. Shut up, change the subject. Flee temptation... he thought he would burst.
Suddenly he picked up his notebook, grabbed a pen, and brought them to Bolco. "Write your name."
Bolco considered the pen, exploring it in his hands, and then held it carefully; then he ran his hand over the notebook, feeling the paper. "It's so flat and smooth. Why does it have blue lines?"
"Oh, you write on the line, it helps keep you straight."
"Yes, I get criticised for that too." Five runes, and three.
Jake pointed at the runes. "Bolco... What?"
"Tuk."
Tuk.
Took.
Well, that made sense; he's from Tuckborough, of course he's a Took too, you dolt, Jake berated himself. But that didn't calm him down. He was dying to ask a dozen questions, but the most pressing question was, did Bolco really have Pippin Took for a tutor?? He couldn't ask.
Oh, my Lord have mercy, and help me hold my tongue. He sat back down. Breathe, he thought, breathe. His stomach churned more. He tried to gather his wits; Bolco was staring at him.
"So, like, I could read it slowly and you, you could write it down."
Bolco thought Jake was looking very uncomfortable. "I really shouldn't trouble you. I'm sorry."
"No! No, it's no trouble at all. But if you want to write it down, that's fine. Really. It's fine. Good idea."
No time like the present, he decided. He brought the notebook back to Bolco, chose the next clean page, and thrust it at him, with the pen, and returned to the bible. "Ready?"
"You're quite certain that you want to do this?"
Jake cleared his throat. "In the sixth month..."
"Slower! " panicked Bolco, diving at the page.
"In... the... sixth... "
"Th... th... th... I can't remember!"
"Leave that one blank, and we'll fill it in later, when you remember. Put a line under where the rune belongs, or something."
"Pippin will roast me. Oh, how he'll laugh, and tell me how lazy I was."
"...mmmmmmonth..." My stomach can't take much more of this, Jake thought. How many Peregrins are called Pippin? Jake wondered whether Pippin learned his runes from Bilbo. Stop thinking about that. "Month..."
"I can't, I can't. I'm still on 'The'. I can't remember the rune for th."
"You can. You will. Just keep going with whatever runes you can remember. We'll go back through the whole thing later. In... the... Sixth... month...."
Bolco started underlining where the 'th' sounds were supposed to go. There were a lot of them at first, but less later, and his spirits rose a little as he continued. He forgot two other runes and left spaces for them too.
It took them about a half hour's hard struggle to get to the end of the second paragraph where Gabriel's first speech ends, and Bolco put his pen down. "I'm tired of writing, " he announced firmly. "We can do more later. Who is the House of Jacob?"
"That would be all the twelve tribes of Israel, " Jake answered. "Jacob was renamed Israel."
"Is that where your name comes from?"
"Yes, my full name is Jacob Michael Scott, " Jake replied. "I'm named after Jacob."
Bolco pondered this for quite a while. "Do you like that?"
"What, that I was named after Jacob?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, well, there's this one story about Jacob, that he wrestled with an angel."
"Wrestled! Fighting?"
"Yes, " Jake, said, and began hunting for the passage. "I'll read it, wait."
Jake found the passage he was looking for, and read it with feeling because he loved it. When he finished, he said, "I love that line, 'I will not let you go until you bless me.'"
"I don't understand, " Bolco began. "You said it was an angel, but what you read said it was a man that wrestled him, and then the man said Jacob wrestled with God. It's very confusing."
This was Jake's passion. "I think Jacob wrestled with Jesus, when he appeared on earth before his incarnation-- I mean, like, before he came as a baby at Christmas-- he sometimes showed up as an angel, the angel of the Lord. And I think that is who Jacob wrestled with."
Bolco's head swam; that would take some time to think through. "Tell me why you like that line about not letting go."
"Well, " Jake said, "I think God wanted Jacob to win, like a father wrestling with his little kid. And the kid, Jacob, hangs on to the angel and says, I will not let you go until you bless me. I want to be that way with God. I want to hang onto God until God gets his way in my life. I want God to win even when he lets me win. Or pretends to."
Long silence.
"When you spoke to him earlier, " Bolco said slowly, "you called him Lord. That makes sense."
Jake had nothing to add to that.
Bolco sat in silence for a long time, and Jake busied himself praying hard, for himself, for Bolco, for his mother, for peace, for harmony-- and safety for Bolco. Somehow it always came back around to that. Physical and emotional and mental safety. Could one person provide that for another? Jake thought not, but he knew that God could, and that was the essence of his plea.
"Explain the three-in-one idea to me again, Jake, " Bolco asked. "I can see it after Jesus was born, but it's hard to see before."
Jake heartily wished that his brother James was there to field this one. Nevertheless, he struggled through as best he could, stammering a bit. "Well, the Father, the Son, and the Spirit always worked as a team, being one God. They love each other, and out of that love flows everything they do."
"It's puzzling. I don't think I understand it at all. But I wonder, " Bolco said.
"What?"
"I wonder if our writings said anything about the three people within the Creator, or if it's still hidden."
Jake just watched him, wide eyed.
Bolco thought some more, and then stirred. "When is the next meal?" he asked.
"You can have something now, " said Jake, stirring expectantly.
Bolco started to get up, but stopped. "Wait. I just remembered the rune for 'th'." Picking the notebook back up, he filled them in.
Reading the two paragraphs (with two runes still missing) gave him a certain satisfaction. He met Jake's eyes. "I'm still hungry, but this makes me hungry in a different way."
They got up, Bolco running his fingers through his hair and straightening his three shirts as best he could. He hesitated at the foot of the stairs, and turned to Jake. "Could I have my jacket back for a few minutes? I-- I need to go out in the woods." He looked embarrassed.
"You mean..." Jake pointed back at the bathroom, and Bolco's embarrassment grew really painful. "I'm not used to it, " he said. "The bath and the washbasin is one thing, but... "
"You need to get used to it, " Jake said earnestly. "You can get in trouble for going outside like that, especially in a neighborhood like this. I know it's all new to you. Do you remember everything?"
"I remember."
"I'll wait halfway up the stairs. Okay? Trust me on this."
"I do trust you, Jake, " Bolco said, turning miserably toward the washroom. This went against all of his instincts and all of his shyness, but he remembered everything he had been told, and made sure everything was immaculate when he was done. When he emerged, he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, sunk in self-consciousness for several moments.
The little collie trotted over and gave him a gentle, friendly snuffle. He had forgotten all about the dog, he realized, and wondered where the dog had been. He knelt down, and the dog accepted a hug while Bolco buried his face in the dog's fur for just a minute. Then Bolco rose, locating his still-drying clothes, and he went to check them; yes, they were still too wet to wear. He sighed, re-settled the baggy sweatpants around the tee-shirts, cuffed the sweats up to proper mid-shin height; next the sleeves of the long button-down shirt were rolled carefully to his wrists, and the rest of the shirt he straightened as best he could, squared his shoulders and headed for the stairs.
Jake was waiting halfway up the stairs just as he had promised. Somehow that was worth it all. "Jake, what is the time?"
"Three in the afternoon, " Jake said. "We kind of missed lunch."
Bolco nodded; his stomach had let him know about each meal missed, although he decided not to mention elevensies. Men probably had different schedules. They walked into the kitchen.
"I think I've remembered the other two runes, " he said. "Hello, Janiece."
She smiled. "Hello, Bolco, are you hungry?"
There was plenty of fruit in the bowl on the table, cucumber slices (In February? he marveled, and realized that this morning all the fruit had also been out of season;) more ring-bread, cheese, butter, with jugs of milk and juice set out. He could see tea mugs waiting for after the meal.
"Oh, yes, thank you, Janiece, " he smiled broadly. The little collie was checking the floor for crumbs, but not finding any. Jake chose a ring-bread and sliced it, and then with a quick succession of noises grate- toss- slap- ding, put it inside a small metal box with a glass door and pressed a switch. Bolco saw that it was beginning to glow. He stood on tiptoe, trying to see inside.
The phone rang. Jake turned to get it, but Janiece was closer. "Hello? Okay. Good. Mmm hmmm, dinner at six. See you in a bit. Love you too." She hung up.
"Josh and James?" Jake asked.
"They'll be here for dinner."
"Oh, " said Jake, trying not to worry. He turned to Bolco. "Josh and James are my brothers. They go to UMass Amherst. Must be a slow weekend. "
"Your brothers, " said Bolco, hopefully.
"Yeah, they're pretty civilized." Jake smiled ruefully. James was fairly predictable, but Josh liked to be just a little off of center. Sometimes that involved an ear cuff, sometimes shorts in February. Lately he had been dying his hair blond. You never quite knew. So far he hadn't pierced anything, but Jake was waiting.
Jake pulled a chair up to the counter. "Climb up and look, but don't touch the sides, it's hot. " Bolco watched the glowing toaster oven, and the bagel was approaching golden perfection. Jake reached past Bolco and flicked the toaster oven off, slid the bagel onto a plate, and buttered it. "Look good?" Bolco nodded. "You can have this one or do your own." Bolco fetched a ring-bread and the knife, and under Jake's watch, repeated the whole process.
Janiece watched them quietly. Bolco's behavior under Jake's guidance could be described as careful willing trust resulting in slow and steady progress. He was thriving, she could see that. The fears weren't gone, but he was able to set them aside or push through them.
She toasted a bagel of her own, with melted cheddar. "I'll have to go out and get some things for tonight's dinner, " she said.
"Okay, Mom, " Jake said. "How about bananas?"
"All right, " Janiece said. "List is on the counter." Jake turned in his seat and reached it, added the item and returned it.
"You write so quickly, " Bolco said. "When did you learn?"
"All growing up, " Jake said. Time to include Mom on the conversation, he thought. He shifted in his chair, and met her eyes. "Bolco wanted to copy down the Christmas story so he could read it later, " he said. She nodded, wondering what the significance of that was.
Anyway, she had her own question. "Bolco, if I buy a cabbage and some turnips and potatoes and carrots, can you tell me how to cook them up just like at home?"
What a smile. "Of course!"
"Good. What do you usually eat with that? Beef? Chicken?"
"Usually bread and cheese, or just bread. Mutton on a party day."
"Mutton..."
"Bread would be fine."
"Anything you'd like to drink?"
Bolco looked embarrassed, a little. "Water or milk or juice or cider is fine. I'm not very taken with ale nor beer."
"I think that's a good thing."
"My cousins and friends think it very strange. I hear about that, and I hear about climbing trees, and walking in starlight, and wading in rivers. Some used to tell me I'd come to a bad end, like old Mad Baggins. I never worried about it. Now I've gone and disappeared myself. I wonder if they were right." More embarrassed than ever after what he felt was a wild outburst, Bolco turned to stare out the window. So he missed the glares exchanged by mother and son, with the mother mouthing "did you mention those books" and the son clamping his lips and shaking his head vehemently in answer. Janiece turned back to Bolco, and realized he had put his bagel down, and was reaching for the paper napkin; tears streamed liberally down his face, and he shook. She put a hand on his shoulder, and prayed silently for him, and Jake took her other hand and prayed too.
"Nothing, " said Bolco, "that I have seen reminds me in any way of home, nor gives me any indication of which direction to search. I thought that getting away from the tall buildings would be a start, but now I find large buildings of a different sort. I don't know what to do."
"Bolco, " Janiece said gently, "we want to help you. But we need more to go on than you've told us. Can you tell us more about how you ended up on the train? Who were you with?"
"I was alone."
"What do you remember? Tell me about what led up to you being on the train."
He composed himself, and began. "I had been on a long walk in the woods. I had gone deep into Green Hill Country, all the way to Woody End, for the whole day. I had taken a lunch, and taken my time, and looked for early signs of spring. I remember seeing several patches of snowdrops. I did not hurry home.
"By the time dusk fell, I was still several miles from home, and quite hungry, but I wanted to watch the stars come out. So I climbed a tree and waited, even though I was hungry, and had missed several meals." He paused, and looked at Janiece, challenging her with his eyes. "At this point, my friends and cousins would caution me that that's not normal." She waited, saying nothing, and he resumed.
"I stayed out for several hours; the stars were glorious, and the night was clear and very cold. Of course, I hoped to hear singing, or some sign of the elves, but I didn't hear it that night any more than I usually do. " Here again, he gave Janiece the same "tell me I'm crazy" look. She studiously kept her face relaxed. "Go on."
"By that time I had gotten a good chill. So I climbed down, walked the remaining hour or so home, and got to Tuckborough after ten o'clock. Most of the Smials were asleep, but Pippin was still up. He laughed at me, telling me I was as wild as they come, and that if I insisted on hunting for elves, I'd go queer in the head, and said there was still soup in the kettle; he had saved me two servings, guessing that I would be gone half the night. I had two bowls of soup and three cups of tea, and sat by the fire trying to review my letters, but I was too tired. I fell asleep in the chair, still dressed, thank goodness. I'd hate to think if I had been in my nightshirt."
"And then what happened? " Janiece asked.
"I heard a strange voice say, Ticket Please." His face tightened up. "I woke out of a deep sleep, to find myself on a metal enclosed cart-- you call them trains, don't you?-- making a horrible racket, full of tall man-people, not a hobbit in sight anywhere. And the man in the black jacket and hat was quite upset that I had no ticket. He asked me where my parents were, and I said that as far as I knew he was at home in bed, and I ought to be too. Then he asked me whom I was traveling with, and I said no one, and I didn't know why I was traveling at all and I didn't want to be. And he said, 'In that case, we'll let you off at the next stop then'. And he did."
Bolco touched his shirtsleeve cuffs, and then the tabletop, and then looked out the window again. "I keep waiting to wake up in the chair by the fire. But I am beginning to think I will not get back the way I came."
Janiece was silent, struggling between Bolco's apparent simplicity and honesty, and the implications of his story that she could not accept. Bolco studied her, and then said, "Janiece, I did not mean to trouble you or burden you. Perhaps it is time that I move on, and keep pressing westward."
"No!" Jake burst out.
Bolco persisted. "Jake, I know that the lands far to the east of the Shire are the lands of men. I was told that those lands are large and strange, with strange customs, but I did not know how large or how strange. Perhaps if I keep working my way west, I will come to hobbit dwellings again. I can't think of anything else to try."
"You had a hard enough time getting here, " Jake said desperately. "And the lands of men go on for a long, long ways westward. Thousands of miles."
Bolco's face fell. Jake persisted. "Walking won't help you. We've got to figure out what to do, but walking isn't it. "
Janiece cleared her throat. "Bolco, stay here, with us, for a while longer, " she said. "I need to go out and get the vegetables for dinner. One thing at a time. Josh and James will be here in a few hours. We can't do much ‘til the weekend is over anyway." She put a hand on Bolco's wrist. "We'll do the best we can to help you, Bolco."
He met her eyes, but his gaze was clouded with tension and fear again. She realized she had caused part of it, but she still thought there must be a rational explanation for his size, his naiveté, and his strange journey. She just couldn't put her finger on it yet.
The rest of the late lunch was rather strained, and Janiece finished early. "Jake, go ahead and make the tea when you're done."
"Mom, isn't it kind of late for caffeine?"
"There's herbal in the cupboard; whatever works." She swept up her pocketbook and coat on her way out the door.
Jake sat and churned inwardly. He knew he had not been released from his restrictions (he was still thinking of it as that death sentence) and so he could not initiate any discussion of The Shire, or Hobbits, or Middle-Earth, or Elves. What did that leave??? he wondered.
"Would you like another bagel?" Lame, lame, lame.
Bolco had been deep in thought. "N-no, thank you," he replied. He selected an apple, and thought it was in remarkably good condition considering February was waning.
"Bolco, you asked me when I started studying how to read."
Bolco nodded eagerly.
"We start school when we are five or six years old at the latest. We start learning letters then."
Bolco leaned forward, eyes widening.
"And we keep studying until we are at least eighteen. We study all sorts of things. History, science, mathematics, geography, languages. All different kinds of stuff." Bolco looked stunned. "After the age of eighteen, we have the option of continuing on with the studies, and specializing in something. I'm working on a degree in engineering."
"What is that?"
"Well, it used to be the study of machines and how to build them, and buildings and how to build them." Jake cleared the table and put the fruit bowl in the fridge.
"Oh."
"My brothers are each working on their own degree. James is an electrical engineer, and Josh is studying computer science. Anyway, that's why we are all away; we're at school. We live there, study there, and come home to visit. They'll be here in another hour or so. They're both older than I am."
"You've been studying for thirteen-- fourteen years?"
"About that."
"No wonder you can write so quickly, and read so well..." Bolco's voice trailed off a little.
"Yeah, we kind of have to. All the rest of the studies depend on those reading and writing skills. What kind of tea do you want? We've got peppermint, chamomile, spearmint..."
"Chamomile? I'm not sure... let me smell them." Bolco rose and joined Jake at the counter, and they explored tea boxes.
"Jake."
"Yeah?"
"Your mother doesn't believe me, about how I woke up on the train."
Jake said nothing, returning Bolco's sudden gaze in silence, but Bolco read something like heartbreak in that gaze.
"Do you believe me, Jake?"
Jake couldn't help the nod that escaped him. He clamped his lips shut, but put the kettle on, and then met Bolco's eyes again, and Bolco nodded. He didn't understand the family dynamics, but he had lived in the Smials long enough to understand that they could be far more complicated than met the eye.
Jake took a huge breath, and put one hand on Bolco's shoulder, and said, "God, please somehow get Bolco back home, safe and sound." And then silently added, But not too soon, Lord. Not just yet. I like the little guy a lot. I want him to stay around for a while, if you don't mind, and if he doesn't mind either.
The kettle finally sang, and Bolco realized with a start that the kettle was not over fire, but over a glowing coil of metal. There was so much to get used to. He decided not to ask, but reminded himself that if the little crate-sized oven had been hot to the touch, this hot-coil-thing was worth keeping an eye on too. They took their tea to the table, and then Bolco hesitated. "Jake?"
"Yeah?"
"Could we drink outside?"
"No problem. Hang on. I'll get a couple of jackets." He returned quickly and they were soon bundled up and out on the deck. The collie appeared from nowhere and slipped out the door with them. Bolco swung his feet happily, and cheered up, looking out at the trees, and longingly down at the lawn.
"We can go for a short walk, " Jake said. "As long as we're back in time to set the table and all. "
Bolco stood, smiling, and headed down the stairs, Jake following.
"You haven't seen the front yard, have you?" Jake said. "Which direction did you come through the woods?"
Bolco pointed back through the neighborhoods and toward the tracks.
"Right," Jake said, "not a good place to be. The woods on the south side of the neighborhood would be better." They turned back under the deck and went around the south side. There was only one neighbor on that side (old Mrs. Chattham), and then the woods stretched away. Bolco's spirit rose another notch. They came around the front side of the house. The driveway was semicircular, and passed close to the front door, where Jake's car was still parked. Bolco walked past the car, at a safe distance. The inside of the semicircle was planted with shrubs and trees, and there were shrubs along the foundation, and trees bordering the yard on both ends.
The collie wandered about. Jake watched as Bolco also began wandering randomly from one shrub or tree to the next, touching them, studying them. At the third shrub, Jake joined him. "What are you ... looking for? What do you see?"
Bolco pondered the question. "Beauty..." he said. "Life. Each one has its own bark, its own leaves, its own branching shape. Each one has its own life... " In the inside of the semicircle, Bolco focused on a young red birch. "Look at the gloss," he said, caressing the bark. "It scars worse than our skin does if it's injured. " This last was directed at what was once a bark-scrape on the young trunk, now puffy and misshapen as the tree tried to heal around it.
I would never have noticed, thought Jake.
Bolco's open hand ran gently to the end of a slender branch, and he held his palm flat behind the tip. "When the leaves open out of the bud, they fascinate me, " he said. "They're so delicate. Sometimes you can see through them. They're tender, and so intricately shaped and made. Now there's just a bud, waiting." He turned and wandered back across the yard, aimlessly at first, but soon they were on the north side of the yard in front of a tall tangle of shrub.
Bolco stood three feet in front of it, lost in thought. Jake racked his brain-- purple flowers, strong smell... and came up with the name. "This one's a lilac, right?"
"A tall one."
Jake waited. Bolco seemed to be growing sadder by the minute.
"What's wrong, Bolco?"
"I can't reach the flower buds, " Bolco said.
Jake didn't think that was the whole issue, but... "Do you want a lift up?"
"No."
Jake waited.
"It's a long time ‘til they will open. Isn't it."
"Early summer?"
"A long time." A deep sigh, and then Bolco turned away. "What's that?"
"Dog house."
"A house just for a dog?"
"Well, we tie him out for the day sometimes. He needs a dry place if it rains, that sort of thing."
Bolco thought that must explain the Collie's disappearance during a large part of the day.
Bolco didn't like the north side of the house as much as the south side, and he led back towards the interior of the semicircle; they looked at a few more shrubs and trees. They had both finished their tea.
Jake didn't like this; Bolco now seemed genuinely depressed. Outside was supposed to be good for him. "How about we take a quick walk down to the edge of the woods?"
"We should probably go in and set the table, " Bolco said.
"Are you okay?" Jake insisted.
"Lilac, " sighed Bolco, "is my cousin."
Jake waited, confused.
"My fourth cousin, once removed. I'm descended from Bandobras, but she's on the Fernumbras side, through Isembold. Isembrand is her father."
Jake waited.
"I miss her."
"Oh."
"I'll tell you more about her later. I told your mother quite a bit."
There didn't seem to be much to say. They went up the stairs quietly, and into the Kitchen. Jake wiped the table down; Bolco took the towel and dried it. Jake got down the plates and glasses and the silverware and handed them to Bolco, who arranged five sets of everything on the table. Jake set out napkins and the salt and pepper, and the butter. Then he beckoned Bolco over to the fridge, and opened it. Bolco's eyes bulged, and he reached his hand in to feel the cold.
Jake pointed to the bowl of fruit. "Anytime you're hungry, okay? And the bagels are here. We normally eat three meals a day."
"That's all?"
"Yeah. But my brothers and I snack a lot. Mom's used to it. So help yourself to the fruit, okay?"
"I'm not sure, " said Bolco, "that I should feel quite right. But if you were to join me that would be different."
"Okay. Here, " said Jake. "Take an apple for later. And when you get hungry, let me know."
They were ready for Janiece, but she had not yet returned. They fidgeted a little, and then Bolco said, "Could we write some more? Of the Christmas story? We could do it up here."
"Yeah!" They were back shortly, sitting in the far corner of the living room, Bolco deep in concentration, toes curled under, bowed over the notebook. He struggled a little over the name Elizabeth, but they continued to the end of Gabriel's second speech. "For nothing is impossible with God."
Bolco put the pen down again, and looked up at Jake. "Nothing is impossible with God."
Jake nodded.
"Then God can send me home."
"He can."
"Will he?" Bolco burst out, eyes pleading.
Jake answered very slowly. "He can send you home whenever he wants to, but I don't know when he will want to. It could be sooner or later. I don't know when. I mean, you can always ask God to do something, but you can't make him do it. No matter how hard you try," said, wryly shaking his head.
A car pulled up. Jake went to the window; it was Mom. "Time to carry groceries. Come on."
"Hi, " said Janiece, "Everything all right?"
"Yes," answered Bolco and Jake together, and Janiece smiled. She watched Jake handing Bolco the less unwieldy packages-- not the lighter ones, Jake apparently felt Bolco could carry plenty of weight. They made numerous trips in and out, and the counter was piled high with supplies. Four hungry men in the house, Janiece thought; I hope this begins to be enough. She was careful to set aside the cabbage and the roots.
Bolco was fascinated with the plastic grocery bags, but politely waiting for the correct opportunity to explore one. When the first one was empty, Jake handed it to him. He folded and unfolded it several times, and turned it inside out, and looked at the seams. "There's no stitching, " he said.
"Heat seal, " said Jake, which didn't tell Bolco anything. The collie sniffed around the floor, still waiting for crumbs. It took Janiece and Jake about ten minutes to put everything away, and while they were busy (and Bolco realized he could do little to help, since the pantry shelves were all quite high) he wandered back into the far corner of the living room, and reviewed his runes.
Janiece came and sat down beside him, and looked over his shoulder. Bolco saw her suddenly turn pale. "Are you all right, Janiece?"
"What kind of writing is that?"
"Angerthas, or Cirth. Invented by elves, adapted by dwarves, used by hobbits sometimes."
"Sometimes?" Janiece asked, rather weakly.
"Hobbits like me don't write very often."
"Oh."
"Jake tells me that he has been studying since he was six."
"Yes."
"You must be very proud of him."
"Yes."
"Someday, " Bolco said, "I wonder if Pippin will ever be proud of my progress. Perhaps not. He has other students that do much better. Still: Jake inspires me. I should like to be able to read as freely and well as he does, in so many different topics."
A car pulled up. Smiling reassuringly at Bolco, Janiece went to the door. Jake came to the edge of the kitchen and waited. Two tall men entered, dropping their bags in the hallway, smiling broadly, and each giving their mother a warm and loving hug, and then proceeding to Jake, with whom they shared some rough affection. Then they noticed Bolco sitting quietly on the couch. Clearly they had had no warning they were to expect a guest, Bolco thought. Just as well.
Janiece stepped forward and gestured through the introductions. "Bolco, this is James, " indicating the dark-haired one, "And this is Josh, " the one with rather odd-colored hair, brownish-golden at the ends, and wearing shorts that showed his knees. Men were full of surprises, Bolco thought. "James, Josh, this is Bolco."
Bolco stood. "Hello, James. Hello, Josh."
"Hi, " said James. "Pleased to meet you."
"Pleased to meet you," echoed Josh. There was a moment's pause. Then Josh smiled warmly. "Dude, " he said, nodding earnestly, "you seriously look like a Hobbit."
"But I am, " Bolco burst out. "I am!" And hope rose in him, and he swept forward, and stopped three feet from Josh, pleading with his eyes.
"Wow," said Josh.
"Wow," echoed James.
"Josh," Janiece began hesitantly.
Josh met her eyes, saw the disbelief immediately, and said, "Aw, come on, Mom. It doesn't take a rocket scientist. Look at him." He turned back to Bolco, and said, "How'd you get here?"
"I don't know, " Bolco said. "I mean, I walked here, but how I got to the train, I don't know."
"The train?"
Bolco shook off the question. "Please, do you know how I can get back to the Shire? "
"Wow." Josh stepped back, and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don’t know." He looked at James for help. James was a little behind Josh on this one. Josh turned back to Bolco. "We'll work on it, dude. We'll do whatever we can. But it could be tough." Leaning forward gently, he tousled Bolco's hair; Bolco would have been offended, but he recognized the same rough affection Josh had bestowed on Jake, and he accepted it.
"Hey, " Josh marveled, "You've even got pointy ears. That's so cool."
Janiece and Jake both started forward. How had they missed that? It was true. Despite his best efforts, a triumphal grin spread across Jake, from ear to ear. He knelt in front of Bolco, took a close look at Bolco's ears, and then turned back to his mom, and met her eyes. Janiece threw her hands in the air. "All right," she said.
"So I can talk now?" Jake said.
Janiece glowered. Despite everything she still had her doubts, and she was still fighting the obvious, but she knew her three sons had decided, and she let go. "All right." She tried not to be angry, and she knew she was headed for another desperate prayer time. What a day.
The three men grouped around the hobbit, and Bolco realised he had three differently flavored versions of Jake, unique as trees, but they loved him already. He was astounded at the turn of events, but not displeased.
James spoke. "Tell us about home."
"Tuckborough."
"Cool! In the Smials?"
"Yes!" He suddenly thought his heart would burst.
"What year is it?"
"1418."
"Ooh, what month?"
"February."
"Haven't left yet, " James said to Josh.
"Careful, " said Josh.
Jake butted in. "Pippin, Peregrin, that teaches you your letters, what's his last name?"
"Took, of course."
"Yeah. Of course. Who did he learn his letters from?"
"Mister Baggins, of course. The elder, Bilbo."
"Wow, " said James. And then there was a long pause. They were all thinking the same thing-- they didn't dare ask about Frodo, or Pippin, or Merry, or Sam, even though they wanted to, because they didn't want to change anything, to affect anything, to influence anything.
"So, " Jake struggled, trying to think of safe questions, and trying to remember the things he had been dying to ask, drew a complete blank. "Soooo..."
"What are the Smials like?" Josh butted in. "What's it like to live there?"
"Gentlemen, " Janiece called, "Why don't you come and discuss all this in the kitchen? Bolco has some instructing to do."
"Instructing?"
"Janiece asked if I would tell her how to cook up Cabbage and Roots just like at home."
"Yeah! " Josh celebrated. James agreed, and they all surged into the kitchen. Janiece shook her head. None of her sons loved cabbage. But she also suspected that there would be no leftovers of the cabbage-and-roots concoction, whatever it turned out to be. Suddenly she had three eager volunteers for chopping, slicing, and peeling, and Bolco was in the middle trying to see up onto the counters, and getting his hair tousled every time Josh passed him, and his shoulder touched every time James and Jake went by. They asked him exactly how to slice each vegetable, and put him up on a chair so he could demonstrate, and when they got to the turnips, there wasn't a single complaint or murmur.
I should relax and enjoy this, Janiece thought. This is more fun than I've had in years and years. Looking down at Bolco, she went down on one knee in the middle of the kitchen, and he faced her.
"Janiece, " he said gently, and the activity slowed; the sons were aware of the moment, and they did not turn and invade it.
"Janiece, I can only be what I am."
She nodded. And she opened her arms, and hugged him like a son, and he received it like one. And the laughter resumed.
********