Authors note: This is my first major Frodo-fic, so I hope it turned out alright. When I started writing I could see Frodo turning into Merry or Pippin before my very eyes, so I tried to tone him down a little. I hope it worked. After all, all of the other hobbits get romance stories, so I decided that it was Frodo's turn. Also, according to the appendices at the end of RotK the Gamgees were not at Bilbo's farewell party because their names were not underlined. I have changed this in my story. And lastly, all reviews are very much appreciated! Disclaimer: LotR does not belong to me.

Chapter One

Frodo Baggins was such a gentle-hobbit. Always kind, always polite, always smiling quietly. I suppose that's why I fell for him. He lived up at Bag End with his cousin Bilbo, and I often saw him, as I lived at the bottom of the hill in Bagshot Row. They were good neighbours to us, were the Bagginses. Bilbo took the Gaffer on as his gardener, and young Sam went up there with him religiously every day since he was a young mite. I can still remember him earnestly digging up weeds with his rusty old trowel, because the Gaffer wouldn't trust him with the flowers or the prize vegetables that he was so fiercely proud of.

That's how I got to know Frodo. My ma sent me up every day around midday with something for the Gaffer and Sam's luncheon. The Gaffer didn't like to impose too much on Bilbo, and even though he was often invited inside for a bite to eat, he politely declined, and sat out in the garden on an upturned bucket munching bread and cheese with Sam at his feet. My Gaffer was a proud man. Our family was never that well off and he didn't like to accept 'charity', as he was inclined to call it.

When I let myself in through the garden gate I was sometimes greeted by Bilbo and occasionally by Frodo. They were both cheery and perfectly kind. I warmed to them both, even though I had heard tales (sometimes not the nice kind) about Bilbo from various hobbits. Sam often came bouncing into the kitchen chattering on about dragons and trolls after spending the day at Bag End. Apparently Bilbo was teaching him his letters, but he seemed to be learning about elves and whatnot more than how to read and write.

The lunchtime routine was regular as clockwork, and it became a daily tradition. As the months went on I found myself hoping that Frodo would be there. I enjoyed talking to him, he was very intelligent and knew how to read and write Elvish as well as the common tongue, whereas I could do neither. Once he showed me some of his books, as I had expressed an interest in them. We never had many books down in Bagshot Row. I remember running my finger down the red leather cover and opening it slowly, feeling slightly in awe of the foreign characters neatly ordered on the clean white page. I couldn't understand the words, a few here and there perhaps, but Frodo pointed out some to me, and told me I could borrow the book. His manner was calm and somewhat quiet, and when he had first come to live at Bag End I had been a little shy of him. As I grew older I knew there was no need. He was as good-hearted as anyone could wish for, just like Bilbo. I didn't speak to Frodo that often, perhaps once or twice a week, and we rarely exchanged more than 'good mornings', but my heart warmed to him and every time I saw him I couldn't help but smile.

The years passed like all trouble free years do. Bilbo seemed to be growing no older, but Frodo was maturing and it was soon to be his 33rd birthday, his 'coming of age'. I began to notice him more and more that year, and baffled myself as I sometimes thought of him when I was alone. I had never had those sort of feelings before, and I chose to ignore them and hope they would go away. Needless to say, they didn't, and I sometimes made excuses to go up to Bag End to get some gardening tools or return a book, just to see Frodo again. The Gaffer was not gardening as often, but Sam went up there most days. He was my perfect excuse to see Frodo. I was in the kitchen one morning in August when my mother passed me a bundle to take up to Sam.

"There's some nice new bread and a fair sized piece of ham in there. Run up to Bag End. Sam'll be hungry."

My heart leapt slightly at the mention of Bag End. I put the potato I was scrubbing back into the stone sink and, checking my hair quickly in the glass in the hall, opened the door and strolled up the path. It was a fine day, the sun was hot and I was in high spirits. I hummed a tune to myself as I pushed open the gate and walked around the back of the Hill to the garden where Sam was working. I glanced around, and then I spied not one, but two hobbits sitting under the apple tree. I mentally gathered myself when I saw that Frodo was sitting with Sam, casually leaning against the trunk munching on an apple. They both looked up when they heard me approach.

"I've got you some food here, Sam.' I said, holding out the bundle.

Frodo smiled, and turned to Sam. "I've told you enough times that you can come and eat inside with me, Sam. We have more than enough," he said, his tone light though his offer was serious.

Sam's cheeks coloured. "I wouldn't want to impose, Mister Frodo."

"You'd be doing no such thing! Bilbo is in his study and I'd like to have company," Frodo replied.

"No Mister Frodo. It wouldn't be right," Sam said, shaking his head. "I'm happy sitting outside in the sun with my luncheon."

Frodo grinned in defeat and shrugged his shoulders good naturedly. "Have it your way." Then, seeing me he added, "you're welcome in Bag End too, Miss Daisy. And your sisters."

"Thank you," I replied. "I shall remember."

As I turned to walk away back home Frodo got up and moved to my side.

"Would you like me to walk you to the gate?"

I felt myself blush.

"That would be nice."

He took my arm, and I couldn't help but feel at ease. As we strolled out of the garden he said;

"I hope you will be coming to the party. You and all of your family. You have been good neighbours and I would like you to be there."

"That's kind of you," I replied. "I'd be happy to come."

"I'm glad," Frodo said as we reached the gate. "Good afternoon!"

I stood for a moment watching him as he walked back up the garden path. Then I turned and made my way back to Bagshot Row, feeling rather dreamy. The thought of my mother's words "You've got your head in the clouds" ran through my head, and it was true. Frodo Baggins certainly was a very nice hobbit.

I smiled. "A very nice hobbit."

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