Author's note: This is just a strange idea that popped into my mind: telling the story of Frodo's childhood. I have toyed with this idea for ages, but never came up with a plotline. I did, however, come up with a first chapter, so I have decided to post it. Ideas are welcome. I would also like to ask if anybody would like to volunteer to be a beta-reader for me; I could use one, for locating typos is admittedly not one of my strengths. Thank you for taking the time to read this piece of drivel. Also, is Drogo Bilbo's first cousin twice removed? I am really not all that great at identifying unusual relationships. I just decided to put "first cousin thrice removed," because both Bilbo and Drogo have the same great- great-grandfather, Balbo Baggins, three generations back. *laughs* While writingt this, I was also noticing all the incest among the Tooks, Brandybucks, and Bagginses. I mean, Bilbo is a blood relative of both Drogo and Primula! And Merry and Estella had the Old Took for a great- grandfather! *laughs* Trust me to notice things like that!

Disclaimer: Unless I am a reincarnation of Tolkien, which I highly doubt, I do not own a thing.

Another note: I will post news of updates to ANY of my stories in my livejournal at www.livejournal.com/~oooootricia00

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        It was a day of great cheer to Drogo and Primula Baggins, for Primula had finally given birth to a child: an exceedingly beautiful son with dark brown curls, dazzling blue eyes, and skin unusually fair for a hobbit. The setting was a cozy hobbit hole located in Buckland, on the eastern side of the Brandywine in the Shire. Primula lovingly cuddled the tiny form of her baby son, smiling over him through her fatigue and pondering possibilities of names for him. She had selected a perfect name for a hobbit-lass, having not even considered the possibility that the child would be a son. She had secretly hoped for a daughter, though she had not ever mentioned it to her beloved husband Drogo, who was now tousling the fine nest of soft curls.

        "Congratulations on your new baby son," the area doctor, Marmaduke Bayberry, said which a smile at having yet another infant charge to care for. His wife and the area midwife, Amanda, was sipping a cup of tea after having concluded the daunting task of helping Primula through the pain of expelling the baby boy from the safety of her womb into the world. "What do you reckon you are going to name this lad?" He, too, was taken aback by the unusual appearance of the child. It was not common for hobbits to have cerulean eyes, or such fair skin.

        "We have not yet selected a name for our son," Drogo affirmed. "We were considering naming him after Bilbo, my first cousin thrice removed."

        "You couldn't possibly mean Mad Baggins!" Amanda said with surprise, looking up with surprise from her cup of tea, holding it suspended in midair. "He is a queer sort, I have heard many tales of him."

        "Queer, yes, I cannot deny, but I am very fond of him," Drogo said sharply, frowning at the midwife. "Anyway, let's forget the oddities of my beloved relative, and focus on this wonderful moment."

        "Indeed." Amanda said. "My friend Lobelia has just told me things though, things I think very strange."

        "Do you know what I find strange?" Primula put in after planting a kiss on her new son's forehead. "How one person can gossip so much; Lobelia is the biggest telltale I have ever encountered. I pity Bilbo and my husband for being related to her."

        "Only through marriage; technically, only Otho and their son are related to me by blood," Primula's sixty-year-old husband interceded. "Can we just abandon the subject?"

        "I will, it is Amanda who needs to consent," Primula said, rocking her infant gently. His big blue eyes were beginning to droop closed, as if he himself had been spent by the struggle of the process of childbirth.

        Amanda frowned. "I consent, for now. What will we name this child?"
        Primula and Drogo locked eyes, deep in thought. Forty-eight year old wife, unusually thin and tall for a hobbit, and beefy sixty year old husband alike were at a loss for ideas at the moment. They were a direct contrast for each other, yet neither could think of anything.

        While mother and father speculated names, Dr. Bayberry was deep in thought himself- why two such contrasting hobbits could have fallen in love and joined in marriage. While Primula was inquisitive and somewhat liberal in mindset, Drogo was conservative and almost reclusive. While Primula made it a point to remain in healthy physical condition, Drogo was on the lazy and fat side. One thing they had in common was love for their blood relative Bilbo.

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        A couple of hours elapsed, and it had progressed from mid-afternoon to past dinnertime. Drogo and Primula still had not agreed upon a name for their baby boy. Drogo wished to chose a name that somehow symbolized his unusual physical attributes, while Primula wished to name him after a relative. The only relative Drogo had even considered for a namesake was Bilbo, but then they'd decided that since Bilbo Baggins was still alive and hale, that would not be quite such a good idea. If hale was even the proper word to describe Bilbo- exactly the same as he had for countless years would have been nearer the mark.

        "I've just thought- today is Bilbo's birthday, isn't it?" Primula said suddenly, breaking a silence that had fallen. Amanda and Marmaduke Bayberry had taken leave, saying they would return in the morning. He had reached the age of seventy-eight, yet he was showing no signs of being on the cusp of coming upon old age. He still looked like a hobbit who had only just reached what was called "middle-age," the approximate halfway point between birth and death for a hobbit.

        "Well, isn't that queer? And to think we considered naming our son Bilbo! That would have been quite a baffling likeness, if they shared the same exact name /and/ birthday!" the practical Drogo professed.

        "Well, I suppose you are right, then, that we shouldn't name him Bilbo after all," Primula agreed finally. "Now we are back to square one once more." She smiled down on her son who was proving very tricky indeed to name. He had fallen asleep about fifteen minutes ago, and was gurgling contentedly. "Why don't we consider this over a second dinner?"

        "I quite like the idea, food always helps me mull things over," Drogo said with a smile. "I think I shall do something unusual and cook myself for once instead of leaving it to you- even if your cuisine /is/ better. Just rest, my dearest Primula, for you do deserve it. We have waited nine years to bear a child, but the delay was well worth it." He lovingly pecked his wife on the cheek and went to busy himself with the pans preparing pancakes.

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        Primula smiled, for yet another name had come to her. The hard part would be convincing Drogo that this name would be ideal for this small infant. Frodo- she knew of no relative that possessed this name, yet she somehow liked it. Perhaps this would be a perfect compromise. Smelling the pancakes, she fell back against her pillows and closed her brown eyes. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Perhaps the daunting task of bearing a child had daunted her, for Primula had a very strange dream indeed while waiting for her husband to wake her for dinner. First, an image of Drogo and herself sharing a special moment of bonding on a boat sailed through her mind's eye. This was of course absurd, for Drogo was no Brandybuck and would vehemently dissent of Primula even brought up the idea of boating. Drogo was one who preferred keeping both hairy feet solidly on the ground. Then the feeling of love suddenly faded to a sudden terror, and Primula felt it difficult to breath. She saw herself enveloped in water, the fear giving way to an inner peace. Then the dream faded away, and Primula remembered nothing of it by the time her dearest husband had gently shaken her awake. "His name is Frodo," Primula though, and did not realize that she had spoken these words out loud.

        "Indeed? Well, that does sound like a perfect compromise to me- neither one of us is getting his or her way. All the same, I do believe that sounds like a good name for a son," Drogo said, kissing his wife. She was ordinary-looking to the eyes of others, but to Fdrogo, she was the most beautiful hobbit in the Shire.

        "His name is Frodo," Primula repeated jubilantly, a smile of pure bliss crossing her face.

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Author's note: I do not consider this my best writing, but that is just my opinion. Please review and give me YOUR opinion.