A double drabble for the 2007 birthdays of Angiet and Dreamflower

LIKE HOME

I’ll never forget my first trip to Bag End. Frodo had been living there for a few months when my parents gave in to my pleas to let me visit and “make sure he’s not lonesome.”

Frodo had been thrilled to see me, and couldn't wait to show me around. His bedroom was wonderful – large and airy, and already there were piles of books everywhere. His eyes fairly glowed with pleasure, and... pride. By the end of my visit, I was both sad and happy; it was obvious that Frodo wasn’t coming home again, but equally obvious that Bag End now was his home.

“It’s his own place, Merry lad,” Bilbo told me quietly. “A home where he can learn who he is, and someday be his own master. He deserves no less.”

I smiled fondly as I moved the last chair into position in the Crickhollow sitting room, and looked around, pleased with what Fatty and I had accomplished in so short a time. Frodo might only be coming here to stay for a few days, at best... but for as long as he was here, it would look and feel like home. He deserved no less.