A.N: Just started reading The Lord of the Rings last month, and as I was looking around in the fanfiction, I admired the way people write about Frodo and Bilbo. So…this poofed out. XD Takes place a few months, a year at most, after Frodo moved in with Bilbo.

Slight AU though, I didn't know the time frame between when Frodo's parents died and when he moved in with Bilbo, so I said a few months afterwards.

Disclaimer: All characters, concepts and locations belong to J.R.R Tolkien, not me. I merely am creator of the plot. I also am not owner of the cover image, the rights go to the creator.

Enjoy! Thanks for reading.

The warm Shire sunlight streaming into the room was what woke Bilbo up. The old hobbit yawned and stretched his old bones, reluctantly getting out of his comfortable bed. His clock read exactly ten.

He absentmindedly wandered into the kitchen, the only sound being his feet on the floor and the Gaffer with his shears, trimming the hedges while pointing out facts and tidbits to his young son Samwise.

Bilbo's mindset wandered to his nephew Frodo, as he began to make a hearty breakfast in the kitchen. The two of them had traveled from Brandy Hall to Bag End a few months after his parents' funeral. Ever since, Frodo had been moping about around Bag End, but at least he after a few days stopped his crying and broken sobs that emanated from his room. That was progress. And Bilbo was happy about the progress. He couldn't bear to hear his nephew's grief or his depression in general. At least now Frodo was some-what back to his old self.

Along with the grief however, came something else. When Frodo learned just how his parents died, the young lad has skirted away from bodies of water whenever need be. Bilbo didn't necessarily blame him for acting this way, but felt it was about time to remedy it.

After a large meal of bacon, eggs, and other wonderful foods, Bilbo did believe he had an idea. The probing question was whether or not he should go through with it. The idea itself seemed reasonable enough, but there was a crucial part of it that Bilbo was certain Frodo would not enjoy. He didn't want to ruin the trust he already earned with the boy.

The Tookish side of him won out just as Frodo stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Good morning Uncle." Suddenly a look of new interest washed over him. "Is that bacon?"

Bilbo nodded and smiled in greeting, chuckling a bit. "Good morning my lad. And, yes, you are correct. Now eat up, we have things to do today!"

Frodo was passed a plate of food. After a mouthful of eggs, the younger spoke. "Like what?"

"I was thinking we could go for a walk for the day. Some exercise could do both of us some good, wouldn't you agree?"

"I guess so," he responded. "Where are we going?" The young boy asked, his eyes shining with curiosity.

Bilbo's eye twinkled mischievously. "You'll find out once we get there, my boy. Now finish up, let's get a move on soon!"

And so move on they did. The two hobbits strolled in silence down a weather-beaten path, passing the more friendly of neighbors and waved in greeting, and the not so friendly, giving no more than a mere glance at the Sackville-Bagginses as they upturned their noses in greeting.

"I suppose I should warn you about those two, Frodo," Bilbo began. He never had the chance to talk about Lobelia and Otho, for it never came up in conversation, and they thankfully didn't run into the couple until now. "They've been watching and waiting for the day I pass like a hawk so they can collect my riches. The nerve of them!" Bilbo shook his head with what might have been disgust. "But their hopes were dashed when you came along, so be wary of them."

Frodo nodded in reply. "Yes Uncle." His youthful gaze took in everything in the Shire. The sunlight bathed his head, causing his dark curls to glow faintly. It delighted Bilbo to see his nephew happy after all that has happened to him. However, there was still a small hint of sadness hidden deep in his orbs of blue.

Bilbo's delight quickly dissipated however when they reached their destination: Hobbiton Lake.

Frodo's face lost all color as he gulped and started backing away slowly. "Uncle? May we please go somewhere else?"

The elder counterpart sighed. He expected this out of the young lad. Gently, he reached out a weathered hand and pulled Frodo closer to the water. "The water will not hurt you Frodo, its safe for the two of us."

His nephew bit his lip and lowered his head, suddenly finding the soft grass very interesting. "That's what Mama and Da thought…" he trailed off.

Bilbo mentally scolded himself. A poor choice of words. "I'll make sure nothing happens to the two of us, my lad." He paused before adding, "You trust me, don't you?"

The silence was killing Bilbo before Frodo made a decision. "Yes, I do."

The old hobbit gave a warm smile to his nephew, and continued leading him towards the water's edge. The pair sat down on the grass, wading up to their knees as the water hardly moved. It rippled every so often, but was still and silent otherwise.

A sliver of the tension left Frodo's shoulders, but he still looked uneasy. They sat there in silence for a bit, until Bilbo turned to his nephew. "My dear Frodo, are you alright?"

Frodo sighed and stared at the water as if it was Mordor itself. "What if I fall in?" He swallowed. "Just like-"

"Frodo," Bilbo interrupted sternly. It would seem silly to anyone else to fear falling into the lake, but Frodo had a very traumatic experience connected to the element. Bilbo was most likely the best person to understand Frodo's situation. After all, he lost his parents too. "If you fall my lad, I will catch you. I will always catch you if you fall." He gave Frodo's hand a squeeze, smiling kindly. "Understood?"

The younger hobbit smiled faintly before nodding. "Yes Uncle."

Bilbo laughed a little. "And Frodo, in the highly unlikely, if not impossible, event in which you do fall in and drown, I will personally find the person who wove that tangled web and give him a piece of my mind!"

This time, Frodo let out a wholehearted laugh. "With Sting?"

The elder hobbit chuckled, remembering when he told Frodo about his sword. "Yes, my dear Frodo, with Sting."

The two of them stayed by the water's edge for the rest of the day, skipping stones and sharing laughs. There was an event where a breeze blew Bilbo's hat off into the water, but Frodo bravely stepped into the lake and retrieved it. This was remarkable progress indeed.

As the sun disappeared from view, Bilbo had one hand around Frodo's shoulders and another in his pocket. Somehow his hand curled around the cold circular object nestled deep inside.

In time, Bilbo thought. In time I'll tell him.

A thought occurred to him. Ever since Frodo came around, he hasn't had the urge to slip it on.

A.N: About the last sentence, I figured that Bilbo would be a little lonely and just want to disappear sometimes before he adopted Frodo.

Anyway, did you all enjoy it? Was anyone out of character? I feel like Frodo was, but…oh well.

Thanks again for reading! And PLEASE no book spoilers! I'm only at the Prancing Pony! XD