Title: Legacy

Author: Trust No One

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Frodo has a most unusual encounter that will ultimately alter the path of his life. Two Part, Pre-Quest

Disclaimer: Characters and places belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. No copyright infringement is intended by the use thereof.

A/N: Many thanks to Aratlithiel for her most insightful and immensely helpful beta!

PART I

Winter, 3012

Frodo set his book aside and stretched lazily, feeling every major bone in his body click into place. It was no use: not even the most captivating of tales from the specially selected tome had been enough to keep his mind off the problem at hand. His eyes kept jumping paragraphs absently and his brain registered the words only superficially, while his mind obstinately wandered elsewhere.

He had to admit to being more than slightly tired since he had arrived home from visiting the Tooks. The Yule celebrations had been exhausting enough, with more than their fair share of merriment and festivities, bearing witness to the plentiful, lavish year past. Frodo had made up his mind that going there for Yule would be the best thing: everybody would be infused with the jovial spirit and more likely to be forgiving and generous. And, most importantly, Pearl Took would maybe find it in her heart to admit that she wasn't all that attached to him.

Only the plans he laid very carefully and the words he ran through a hundred times did not really have the desired effect, especially after Pearl had her say and, one thing having led to another, he returned to Hobbiton with a completely different mindset.

Since his return, Frodo had caught himself thinking of Pearl most unexpectedly, and alarmingly often. He would have his lunch and suddenly he would wonder how it would feel to have Pearl Took sitting across from him, sharing his food, taking nibbles off his plate and making faces at him. He would lie in the bath and catch himself pricking his ears in an effort to hear Pearl's voice calling the children, their children, and his heart would jump at the almost audible sound of softly pattering feet running riot down the many hallways of his now empty home. And it occurred to him that these thoughts were not unexpected after all. He held great affection for Pearl, and of the many lasses he had known over the years, he had been unable to think of anyone else as a life partner.

Trying to tell himself that it was just the lingering effect that Pearl had always had on him didn't quite do the trick. Frodo knew it ran deeper than that. A lot deeper.

He had gone to talk to Pearl with the intention of making it clear that she should be looking elsewhere if she wanted a husband. Five minutes into the conversation, Frodo had known beyond a doubt that agreeing to go to Pearl's bedroom had been a mistake. With hindsight, he wasn't so sure that it had been a mistake, but rather an eye opener.

'I don't want to talk, Frodo,' Pearl cooed, circling Frodo's neck with her arms and pressing her body to his, 'It's been so long since your last visit. I've missed you, you know.'

All the while, she teased her way along his jaw line with cat kisses, deliberately avoiding his lips and making the whole exercise all the more tantalizing.

'I was beginning to think that you'd given up on me,' she purred.

'Which is why I feel that I need to make things clear between us, Pearl,' Frodo said, slightly breathlessly, pulling away from her gently but firmly. The outcome of this conversation depended on how long he managed to keep his mind clear before his more basic desires kicked all reason aside. 'I don't think you should wait around for me to make up my mind if I'd like to be married or not.'

Frodo respected Pearl greatly and understood that the only approach that worked with her was absolute honesty – and so he felt no compunction about telling her the truth as it stood. But her intoxicating proximity, her body snuggled up close and her heady, familiar scent were fast becoming major hindrances to his already precarious position.

'This is rubbish, Frodo Baggins, and you know it,' she told him to his face, visibly frustrated by his move. Pearl was not one who was used to having her advances disrupted mid-way. 'Have I ever asked you for anything remotely close to a commitment?'

Her clear gaze was unforgiving in its directness and Frodo's heart softened. In truth, she had never mentioned, or even hinted at, marriage; instead she had enjoyed whatever company he was willing to give when he visited Tuckborough. It was the most convenient liaison Frodo had ever dreamed of having, no strings attached, no questions asked. Ever.

'I need you to understand...' Frodo began but stopped and swallowed uncomfortably, wishing that his throat worked well enough so as not to make a complete fool out of himself.

'You don't know what you want yourself, Frodo,' she interrupted in a mockingly amiable tone, with a smile that did not reach up to her eyes. 'How can you hope then to make me understand?'

Frodo let out a sigh that sounded perilously close to relief but he did not bother to hide it. Pearl knew him well and there was no use denying it. But Frodo saw uncertainty in her eyes and he instantly felt that he needed to make his words sound less callous and so he tried again.

'What I really mean to say, Pearl, is that you should maybe find a more worthy hobbit, someone who would not keep you hanging, like I've done. I'm not proud of it by any means, but you are of age to marry and soon your parents will expect you to do just that.''

It didn't look like his words had had the desired effect, for Pearl shook her head vehemently and almost spat out, 'My parents know better than to force me into marriage before I'm ready. Or to dictate whom I can see and whom I cannot.'

'I'm sure they do,' Frodo agreed, 'but I also know that your Ma and Da will not have us together much longer any other way but by proper betrothal.'

While Pearl's parents had never directly approached him about his intentions, Frodo knew that their trysts were not the most closely guarded secret throughout the Great Smials and it was a matter of time before Pearl's father would open his mouth and voice his displeasure at the rumours. One could only look the other way for so long, even where Pearl Took was concerned.

'Well, I'll have you know that I'm not ready for marriage yet,' Pearl declared, striving to sound petulant, 'and it's fine with me if you're not ready either. You know what I think about marriage and all that nonsense.'

'Yes, I do,' Frodo said firmly, renewed determination in his voice, 'but this is not right. Whatever has been going on between us was wonderful, but it's been going on for too long and there needs to be a sensible conclusion.'

'Frodo, I asked for nothing like that,' Pearl repeated, now visibly exasperated, yet Frodo felt her body stiffen against his. 'Or are you trying to tell me you've grown tired of our little game?' Her eyes darkened and she turned suddenly serious, dropping all pretence as apprehension became plainly written on her face.

'It isn't a game to me, Pearl,' Frodo said seriously. 'Not anymore. You are very dear to me and for your sake, as well as mine, we need to decide where to take things from here.'

'No, we don't,' Pearl protested, though somewhat weakly and Frodo could not be sure if he heard a desperate edge in her voice.

'Yes we do,' he said quietly, searching her eyes carefully. 'I'm afraid you know that as well as I do.'

'Then in that case,' Pearl shrugged, her seeming indifference regained, 'when I am ready for marriage, I shall choose a fitting suitor. And I promise you that you will be the first one to know who he is.'

She paused only long enough to take a step towards Frodo and close the distance between them.

'Until then, however,' she continued in a honeyed tone, leaning against him once again, 'I'm perfectly content to continue seeing you as and when I can. '

Frodo opened his mouth to say something, but she pressed her lips against his and whispered against his mouth.

'..And right now, talking is the last thing I want to do.'

It was useless to resist, Frodo knew. But before he left in the morning, a tacit understanding was reached between them: before Frodo's next visit, they would have both decided what they wanted. And the night spent in blissful yet content passion had left little room as to the direction they both wanted to take. Even now, the memory brought a smile to Frodo's face.

On the ride back from Tuckborough, his thoughts had been filled with her, and since returning to Hobbiton he had hardly been able to concentrate on anything else. His fears were confirmed when he entered his home, expecting to feel like he was back in his own private shrine, where solitude was a privilege rather than a curse. Yet the feeling that had enveloped him was that of stark, unwelcome loneliness and the sight of his empty home had never been less inviting.

Frodo stood up and rolled his head from side to side, seeking to relieve the tension that most often settled in his neck muscles. Going to bed early seemed to be the wisest choice and his lazy, relaxed mood incited him to snuggle under the covers, against the cruel winter cold. A blizzard raged outside and its howling noise carried into terrifying resonance as it slammed against the smial's outside structure and slithered into the chimney and through cracks. For reasons he had not been able to fathom, winter had always made Frodo feel lonelier than ever, and suddenly the thought of having a warm body next to his became enormously appealing. Maybe it was time for him to consider settling down after all.

Taper in hand, Frodo padded unhurriedly down the hall towards the master bedroom and, in the distance of twenty steps, he made his decision. There was no point in delaying it any longer: he would take to the road again, even before spring, and go to Tuckborough to court Pearl properly, like someone of her station should be wooed. He would ask Paladin and Eglantine for her hand in marriage and put things right between them.

Frodo felt strangely liberated now that his decision was made, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he knew in his heart that he was doing the right thing.

With the feeling swathing him like a protective blanket, Frodo moved to twist the knob and enter his bedroom, but he halted abruptly. Without warning, his head started spinning viciously and he was overcome by a sense of dread such as he had not felt in recent memory. His whole energy seemed to have been drained at once and he steadied himself, leaning against the doorframe, fighting the terrifying sensation that someone, or something, lay beyond that door.

With a certainty that appalled him, although he had never experienced it before, he recognized the feeling and he knew at once that he wasn't alone. A wild - or maybe wise - impulse spurred him to turn around, run to the chest in his study and seize anything that might be used as a weapon, but he found himself glued to the spot, unable to form a single thread of coherent thought. Before he became entirely aware of his actions or could make a move to stop himself, he had turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Without stepping inside, he peered at the fire-lit bedroom, half-expecting some fearsome creature to jump at him. But he knew at once that he wasn't going to be attacked; whatever, or whomever, it was that shared his space, was sitting quietly and unobtrusively by the fire, in one of the two chairs placed there. Ridiculously, Frodo found himself wondering why he had kept the two chairs that Bilbo had in his bedroom. Neither hobbit had ever shared their bedroom with anyone.

He took one hesitant step inside, his gaze riveted on the intruder who did not move or acknowledge his presence in any way. Frodo noted the outline of a curly head from the top of the chair and velvet-clad legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle in a relaxed posture.

For a wild moment, Frodo's mind almost tricked him into believing that Bilbo had returned, only to realize a split second later that the intruder's hair was far too dark and the legs a little too slender to belong to the old hobbit.

'Who are you?' Frodo rasped, finally managing to get his mouth working, not daring to advance any further.

But there was no sound other than the raging snowstorm outside and the crackling of the fire that cast blue and orange shadows across the bedroom walls. The intruder seemed to be oblivious to Frodo's presence. Or he waited for Frodo to approach him.

'What are you doing here?' Frodo asked again, this time a little more forcefully.

Ignoring the fear that held him back almost forcibly, he carefully trod around the intruder's chair. Even as he did so, he became aware of something oddly familiar about the other's stance. The next moment, the fire provided sufficient light for Frodo to recognize him. He went limp with shock.

'Sweet Elbereth!' Frodo gasped.

TBC