A/N: Here is something that I wrote. I don’t really know what category it falls into. Miscellaneous, perhaps? This depicts four stages in Frodo’s life where he is hopeless and finds hope in two simple things: a star and a bird.

A young Hobbit sat on the grass. The wind rustled his hair as he watched the sunset. A single tear slid down his face. His parents had just died, and now his world had ended. He was sure of it. A beautiful summer evening, but the lad hardly noticed. His heart was darkened with grief. A lonely bird let forth a mournful tune, and flew away into the dusk. Frodo wished that his heart could spread wings and fly away like that bird. He looked up and saw the first star shining amidst the darkness. Maybe there was hope after all.

*~*~*~*~*

Frodo lay in his Sam's arms. Darkness was all around, though he guessed it was probably only tea time back home. He was in Mordor, and too tired to continue the hopeless Quest for now. A single tear slid down his cheek. Sam was speaking to him, but he barely noticed. His ears picked up one word, however. "Birds, Mr. Frodo..." Birds could fly freely. He wished his heart would spread wings and fly away from the Ring and from the pain. "Look, Mr. Frodo!" Frodo raised his eyes and saw that the wind had blown the thick fumes and smoke overhead so that he could see a patch of night sky. A star shone brightly before it was covered again. Maybe there was hope after all.

*~*~*~*~*

He stood there, looking across the city of Minas Tirith from his house. A wonderful city to be sure, and the people were very hospitable. But he felt a prisoner. He longed for his home, but he longed for healing more. A single tear rolled down his cheek. A bird burst forth in a mournful song, the notes clear and sad. It took wing and Frodo watched the swallow disappear into the evening sky. He wished he too could spread wings and fly to his home. As he gazed after the fortunate bird, a star greeted his eyes. Perhaps there was hope after all.

*~*~*~*~*

Frodo stood looking over the ocean. A sea breeze rustled his curls. He came here for healing, but so far had found none. Why would his heart not heal? Gandalf said to wait, and healing would come. But all he could think about was what he left behind. Looking East, a single tear rolled down his cheek. A small bird dipped low in it’s flight and whirled about him singing a song. He wished he could spread wings and fly over the sea. He gazed to the East, and the last star sparkled in the pale dawn light. Perhaps there was hope after all.

Copyright text 2006 Frodo Baggins