There were times when he was the one who acted so jolly on a birthday feast. He would sing on the table, dance around the guests, chortle over a story being read, and light fireworks. There were times when he still had abundance of energy to do all that.

But those times were over now.

Frodo smiled softly from his warmly cushioned armchair at a bundle of energy named Elanor. Now it was her turn to be jovial on such merriment. Pity there were no fireworks for her – Frodo would not let Sam have them in their little private party inside the house. But she could still sing, dance, giggle over amusing stories her mother read her. She deserved to have some fun – after all it was a birthday, Frodo’s birthday.

Though despite himself, the hobbit had started to nod off at some point during the celebration. He easily got tired as of lately – as if all those rests he had had after he returned from the quest would never be enough.

Frodo felt a tug at the sleeve of his top and heard a plea from Sam’s lovely daughter. Yet he could not wake himself to grasp what the plea was about. Another faint smile toward the lass was all he could offer as he drifted to slumber.