It was approaching tea time when the pony cart bearing Bilbo and now his heir, Frodo Baggins, rolled past the three hobbit holes lining Bagshot Row. Curious pairs of eyes peeked out of the round windows of Numbers 1, 2, and 3 as Widow Rumble, the Twofoots, and the Gamgees sneaked a peak at Mr. Bilbo’s new heir that came all the way from Brandy Hall in Buckland. Bilbo found it rather amusing; it wasn’t as if his tenants had never seen his shy nephew before when the lad used to come for a visit every now and then.

As tired as he was from all the traveling the past two days, Frodo felt a sudden burst of excitement rush through him when he saw Bag End and its familiar roof tree atop The Hill. He sat up straighter and his large blue eyes took everything in. He still could not believe that he was going to live with Uncle Bilbo in Hobbiton forever!

Bilbo halted the pony in front of the white gate and helped lift his small nephew down from the high seat. The Gaffer came from the gardens to meet them and helped unload Frodo’s too few possessions. One trunk contained all the lad’s clothing, which Bilbo carried inside. Frodo followed him, managing another smaller trunk that held the toys and games he had packed--many of his toys had remained behind in Buckland, given to his little cousin, Merry, to have in his absence and to remember him by. Lastly, there was a sturdy crate filled to the brim with all sorts of books that the Gaffer brought inside.

Frodo stood awkwardly in the high-ceiling foyer of Bag End, still holding onto his small trunk; he thought he felt more uncomfortable than Gaffer Gamgee looked, despite all his earlier excitement. It was one thing to come to Hobbiton for a visit, but now he would be living here … and he did not know what Uncle Bilbo’s expectations of him were. He shifted his hold on the trunk that felt like it was growing heavier, and he leaned back against the polished wooden bench that ran along the right-hand wall under the row of shiny brass cloak hooks.

Bilbo bid Master Hamfast a goodnight and turned to his waiting nephew. He could not believe that Frodo was here to stay at long last! The Master of Bag End carefully schooled his features. “Do you remember where my old bedroom is, lad?” he asked.

Frodo thought for a moment, then gave a hesitant nod.

“Good, good. You can just go bring that trunk you’re holding down there for now, until we get you settled,” Bilbo instructed. He followed the slight tweenager down the long, curving tunnel, bearing the heavy crate of books. They could retrieve the bigger trunk of clothing later.

Frodo set his small trunk down on the floor by his feet and pushed open the round door to his uncle’s old bedroom. His eyes widened in surprise and he looked back over his shoulder, making sure he was at the right room.

“Well, what do you think of my old bedroom, Frodo-lad?” Bilbo chuckled.

“Y-you had it redone!” Frodo’s wide-eyed gaze wandered around the room, taking in the fresh paint and the mixture of new and old furniture.

“I not only had it redone,” Bilbo said proudly, “I did all the work myself.”

Frodo tore his eyes away from the bedroom to look askance at his uncle. “You did this all by yourself?” he asked disbelievingly.

“Well, I had a little help from Master Hamfast and his sons, but yes Frodo, I did the majority of it all by myself. … Do you like it?”

Bilbo fidgeted nervously in place, afraid all his hard effort to please would be for naught.

Frodo’s blue eyes wandered about the room once more. It looked so warm and cozy, just as a bedroom ought to look. … Just as mine used to look, he thought sadly. Out loud he said, “It’s quite lovely, Uncle.”

Bilbo caught the wistful tone in the orphan’s voice and he placed an arm around his nephew’s narrow shoulders. He guided the youngster into the room until they were both standing in the center of the bright, cheery space. “It’s yours, Frodo.”

The tween stared up in awe at his old uncle. “Mine?” he squeaked.

Bilbo laughed, hugging a dumbfounded Frodo to his side. “Well yes, my boy! You need to have your very own room if you’re to live here at Bag End now, don’t you think?”

Frodo remained awestruck. “You … you did all this yourself … for me?”

Bilbo knelt and placed a kiss atop the pale forehead underneath the thick, unruly mop of dark chestnut curls. He looked straight into the deep blue eyes. “For You … and no other. Welcome Home, Frodo Baggins.”

He unlatched the lid of the trunk that held Frodo’s toys and from the top, removed a portrait that had been wrapped very carefully in the softest of muslin. Bilbo unwrapped the muslin, letting it fall back into the trunk, before hanging the oval frame on a hook he’d already placed above the fireplace mantel opposite Frodo’s bed. The picture was the only surviving portrait the lad owned of himself and his parents posing together as a family. Now the tween would be able to see them every day when he woke up. Frodo had been just barely out of faunthood when the portrait had been painted and Bilbo remembered sitting off to the side telling the child a story in order to keep his attention as the painter worked. The trouble was, Frodo had kept wanting to squirm out of his parents' laps and run over to his Uncle Bilbo.

The old hobbit gazed with a wistful fondness at the picture, mentally promising the happy looking couple that he would take care of their beloved son for as long as Time would allow him. Bilbo straightened the picture a final time before turning away from the wall.

Meanwhile, Frodo walked around the bedroom slowly, examining and exploring everything. He ran his small hands along the shiny new desk that stood in one corner, his fingers itching to try the new quill set laid out next to a stack of the best quality parchment inside the main drawer. In a small vase sitting on top of the desk was a pretty bunch of freshly-cut yellow and white tulips. Frodo absently wondered if little Sam had helped his father grow them.

He opened the closet, peeking inside to smell the fresh paint before examining the large bookcase located in the far corner, next to the stone fireplace. Next to the bookcase was a wicker basket containing a few new toys of Dwarven-make and several puzzles. Frodo’s eyes lit up when he spied the puzzles, wondering if Bilbo would help him put one together some evening.

In the corner next to his bed, near the window, was another wicker basket. It had a little wooden sign hanging off it which read, ‘Laundry.’ Lastly, Frodo came to the window seat, which contained another bookcase underneath, and hitched himself up on the soft green cushion that lined the seat. He rested back against one of the embroidered pillows. The round window was open, its white ruffle curtains tied back, letting in the sunlight. They swayed to and fro in the gentle breeze that smelled of fresh Spring air and flowers outside. Frodo inhaled deeply and relaxed. Bilbo sat down beside him and gathered him close.

Frodo cuddled next to his uncle, still unbelieving that the old hobbit had gone to so much trouble just for him and that he was adopted after nine long years stranded at Brandy Hall, under the care of his mother's enormous family. Uncle Saradoc and Auntie Esmeralda had meant well however, and had taken care of him best they could. He would miss them and Merry terribly. He decided he would use the new quill and parchment to pen a letter to them first thing after he was settled. He knew they were all worried about him moving here and he wanted to let them know he was doing well.

Frodo's gaze lingered on the clothes cupboard located against the wall in between his bed and the window. He reached out a hand, tracing the ornate carvings etched into the large piece.

"This reminds me of the clothes cupboard Mama and Da had. It looks the same." Frodo remembered once hiding in his parents' large oak clothes cupboard when he was a faunt, playing hide-and-seek with his father.

Bilbo grasped one of the small, fine-boned hands within his own larger, ink-stained one. "It is the very same," he said, and then told Frodo of his perusal of the mathom room which contained Drogo and Primula's things. The old hobbit then went on to identify eveything in the room that had come from the deceased couple's belongings. "They belong to you now, Frodo, and there's no reason to wait until you come of age to legally inherit them and use or do with them as you see fit."

Tears welled in Frodo's eyes at the loving thought and consideration shown him. When he was able to tear his gaze away from the clothes cupboard, he noticed that the bed was the same one his uncle had slept in as a lad. He had always loved sleeping in Bilbo's old bed when he was a faunt and he had been sorry to see it covered up when Bilbo had decided to no longer use this room. The old bed had been refurbished and its wooden headboard gleamed with polish like it was brand new. The drawer pulls had also been replaced with shiny new brass ones. Frodo vaguely recalled a distant memory, in which he had begged his mother to let him take his afternoon nap on the ‘Big Bed.’

Next to the bed was a night table complete with an oil lamp and a drawer filled with tapered candles and a striker if he needed to get up in the middle of the night. There was also a water pitcher, and basin for washing up nearby, and a stack of washcloths. Also inside the drawer of the night table was a neatly folded stack of pocket handkerchiefs, all monogrammed F B.

Frodo sighed happily in content. Uncle Bilbo had taken the time and gone to great lengths to make him feel special, loved, and welcomed into his new home. His uncle had even remembered his favorite colors. Bag End was his home now ... and this was HIS room!!

After uncle and nephew had enjoyed a wonderful supper prepared and left for them by Mrs. Gamgee, Bilbo helped Frodo to unpack. He hung up the lad's small shirts in the closet and folded the breeches and vests, placing them on the lower shelves of the clothes cupboard within Frodo's easy reach. Frodo went about placing his toys and many books where he thought he might want them. Bilbo smiled when he secretly watched his lad decidedly place his old worn stuffed bear, Beorn, on the window seat propped up against the pillows there.

"Tomorrow my boy, we'll go into the village and visit the tailor to see about ordering you some more clothes to fill these empty shelves and drawers," Bilbo stated as he tucked the young hobbit into bed and unfolded Frodo's special quilt over him.

Exhausted from the two-day journey to Hobbiton, Frodo soon fell asleep easily in his new bed and dreamed pleasant dreams. When he awoke the next morning, it was not to the odd feeling of waking in a strange place. Instead, he saw his parents' faces smiling down upon him and also a beautiful array of mixed flowers blooming right outside his bedroom window. Frodo stretched out in his large bed and sniffed the scent of sizzling bacon coming from the kitchen.

He was Home.

~The End~

Thank you to all who have stuck with this story to its end. And a big thank you again to all who took the time to review. I appreciate it and all the kind words you have given me. Your comments help inspire me to write more and it is a nice feeling to know that there are such good-hearted people out there. Hugs to all! ~Julie~