3/18/04

*Blushes in embarassment*

One of these days maybe I will grasp the concept of how the Shire-Reckoning years are different from the rest of Middle-earth! Anyway, I corrected the section that had the S.R. year as 2989 to its correct year - thanks Lindelea for pointing that one out!

I also rewrote a sentence or two at the beginning as someone pointed out to me glowing embers in a fire generally do not pop - and if I have missed anything else, please let me know as I do welcome readers' comments!

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I got my inspiration for this story one night when I was trying to get to sleep. I don’t know how good it is but I hope you enjoy it just the same as it is the first time I have attempted to write about Frodo and Bilbo’s relationship in its pre-Quest days...

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bilbo or Frodo or any of the familiar faces from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. I have made no money from this story so I ask not to be sued for the writing/net-publishing of this story...

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November 1401 S.R.

The fire in the hearth was slowly dying out, and yet Frodo did not stir. He sat in his favorite arm chair in the study, covered in a lap blanket, an open book held loosely in his hands, his head slumped to one side as he had doozed off sometime ago. Suddenly the fire snapped loudly, and Frodo jumped in the chair, forgetting for a moment where he was.

‘Bilbo?’ Frodo called out softly.

Then a lump rose in his throat as he remembered that the older hobbit had left the Shire, and him more than a month ago. Had it really been a month already? He thought as he pushed the lap blanket and set the book aside before rising stiffly from the chair. Taking a candle in his hand he left the study to seek out his bed.

Yes, it had indeed been a little over a month since Bilbo left and he became the Master of Bag End. How could he had not when the Sackville-Bagginses had in some way made clear their protest over that very fact to him everyday?

When he slipped into bed a few moments later, Frodo laid awake staring at the ceiling as he tried to push back old memories. Ever since Bilbo had left he had found it hard to fall asleep before the stroke of midnight - a difficult thing when Sam always appeared to wake him nearly half an hour before first breakfast.

He tossed and turned a few times in his bed, before he closed his eyes, and allowed one of his dearest memories from his early days in Bag End as his uncle’s heir, to surface.

~~*~~
1389S.R.

The hour was quite late when Bilbo finally laid down his quill with a satisfied sigh as work on his book was progressing rather nicely. After hed had placed the quill in its place, Bilbo slowly rose from his desk, he stretched and stifled a yawn as his eyes glanced over his notes one last time for the night. When he was satisfied his outline for the current chapter of his book was as he wanted it, Bilbo picked up a candle from his desk and exstinguished all others.

The hour was quite late when Bilbo finally laid down his quill with a satisfied sigh as work on his book was progressing rather nicely. After hed had placed the quill in its place, Bilbo slowly rose from his desk, he stretched and stifled a yawn as his eyes glanced over his notes one last time for the night. When he was satisfied his outline for the current chapter of his book was as he wanted it, Bilbo picked up a candle from his desk and exstinguished all others.

After he shut the study’s door, he padded down the tunnel, headed for his own room and to bed. His room was just beyond Frodo’s in the tunnel, and when he passed the tween’s room he noted that a soft light could still be seen from under the door.

Surely he’s not awake at this hour, Bilbo thought as he backtracked to the door.

He knocked on it lightly, and spoke softly, ‘Frodo? Lad, are you awake?’

When he recieved no answer, Bilbo pushed the door open slightly, and saw Frodo sprawled out over his bed, asleep and still dressed in his clothes. He ventured further into the room and he saw a book hang limply from Frodo’s hand which hang over the bed. With a smile, Bilbo set down his candle on the nightstand before he gently lifted Frodo’s arm to place it on the bed. He then picked the book up as carefully as he could, and he marked what he hoped was Frodo’s place in it before he placed it on the nightstand.

Lastly, since he did not want to awaken Frodo, Bilbo pulled out a quilt from a nearby chest, and covered the tween. He paused, and was seated on the bed, just gazing at Frodo before he pushed away a stray curl from his face. Then he did something Frodo had felt for a long time, not since his mother and father had died.

Bilbo kissed his forehead, and said, ‘Goodnight, my dear boy.’

He then blew out Frodo’s candle before taking his own, and with one last look at his sleeping nephew, Bilbo quietly left the room, thankful for the tween’s presence in his life.

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November 1401 S.R.

He remembered this because there were many a night when he first arrived at Bag End Bilbo came into his room, and would awaken Frodo enough to where he was aware of the older hobbit’s presence. He remembered and he cherished those memories, and would do so for years to come.

‘I miss you, Bilbo,’ Frodo murmured, half asleep, ‘I miss you making a fuss over me.’

And somewhere on the road, Bilbo smoked his pipe as he gazed at the stars, his thoughts turned towards Bag End, and the nephew he left behind.

Goodnight, my dear boy, I hope you’re not to lonely without your foolish old uncle there to make a fuss over you, Bilbo thought, May the Valar watch over you until we meet again. I love you.

And with that, Bilbo exstinguished his pipe, turned over and went to sleep...

The End

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