Just Like You
After recently having been adopted by the widely known and peculiar Mr. Bilbo Baggins, little Frodo had noticed the scrutinizing and nasty looks he'd been receiving through Hobbition. Sometimes he ignored them, but today he'd really let them get under his skin.
He was trying to get back to Bag End in time for Tea Time. Frodo had been reclining in his favorite tree while reading a book his uncle had lent him, when he noticed that it was getting late. He swung his short legs over the side of the large oak and hopped down, knocking his book out of his arms. He quickly grabbed it and set off for Bag End.
Frodo ran through the streets, squeezing inbetween folks and carts in his rush to get back to the cozy hobbit hole. All the while saying,
"Excuse me!"
"Pardon me Sir!"
"Terribly sorry!"
The hobbits gasped, and whispered, "How rude and strange!"
But there was one hobbit that had had enough of the young hobbit's antics. The miller grabbed Frodo by the collar, "What are you in such a rush for lad?"
Frodo swung his legs and struggled, "I apologize Mr. Sandyman, but if I don't get back I'll be late for tea time."
Mr. Sandyman took notice of young Frodo's book, "Where have you been all day?" He growled.
"I was only reading off in the woods sir," Frodo stuttered. "Is that a crime now?"
Mr. Sandyman scowled and set Frodo down. (None too gently, I might add.)
"Just like his uncle he's gonna turn out. Two of a kind. You'll be runnin' off into the blue, with pointy hatted wizards and returnin' stranger and stranger. It's unnatural it is. Go back to your uncle. More Took than Baggins," the miller sneered.
Several curly-headed hobbits nodded in agreement, and Frodo ran off to Bag End with tears forming in his bright blue eyes. He desperately tried hiding them back, but they flowed out like a waterfall soaking his round cheeks. Frodo franticly wiped the corners of his eyes with the back of his hands in hopes that Bilbo wouldn't see him so upset. He didn't want to seem weak to him. Unfortunately for Frodo, his uncle was sitting on the wooden bench on his porch.
Seeing Frodo was a relief. Bilbo thought he may have to go look for him. It was after he got up that he noticed his nephew's tear stained cheeks. Bilbo furrowed his brow and rushed down to see what had happened.
"My dear Frodo, what happened?" His uncle gently asked him, scooping him up in his arms.
"I'm fine," Frodo tried saying before tearing up again.
"No, you're not," Bilbo said frankly taking him inside and through the familiar round door.
"Alright, start from the beginning lad," Uncle Bilbo said setting Frodo down on the footstool in front of his armchair.
After some poking and prodding, Frodo was able to explain his day.
Bilbo sighed and ruffled his nephew's black curly hair, "Oh Frodo, for as long as you live here in Bag End with me, people will believe me and you peculiar and queer. Once people make up their mind about who you are, they will hold to it stubbornly. You should never apologize for being you. Our job is to keep the world from changing us into them. After all, who has the dragon stories?"
Frodo laughed and hugged his uncle tight, "I don't want to be like Mr. Sandyman anyway. I wanna be just like you someday."
Bilbo just smiled, maybe being cooped up in Bag End wouldn't be too bad if he had Frodo to look after.