Ahoy, CiciLemon here! I don't publish on Fanfic much, but I'm trying to change that. I will update chapters as often as I can, but don't hold me to it; I have a lot of stuff going on right now, so weekly updates are unlikely. Luckily, the school year is becoming a little more lax for seniors so I should be able to upload monthly at the very least. I hope you enjoy the first installment of my Frodo love story, and, if you like it, please leave me a comment. Constructive criticism is appreciated (but please, nothing rude. No one likes a troll).

Are you going by the water's side?

By the willow, O, the willow

'Tis there you'll meet a lady fair

By the willow, O, the willow

Her tears are carried by the rolling tide

By the willow, O, the willow

'Tis said her lover drownèd there

Frodo Baggins had no idea how such a somber tune entered his mind, let alone why he caught himself singing it on his walk toward Bag End. The weather could not have been the cause. No, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping sweetly, and the crisp morning air smelled of the promise of spring. Almost all the snow from the brutal winter had melted to feed the newly bubbling brooks and riverbanks, and the earth that had been imprisoned for three months' time would soon flourish in a lush, fertile green to welcome wildflowers and crops. Frodo was looking forward to the feeling of soft, spring grass brushing against his large bare feet; he missed it dearly.

As he approached the familiar gate to his inherited estate, he paused and reflected on the sign Bilbo had posted all those ages ago: "NO ADMITTANCE- EXCEPT ON PARTY BUSINESS." He chuckled to himself. I wonder what my dear uncle's up to now. Was he in Rivendell with his elven companions, or perhaps hiking the mountains of Eriador? Maybe he was staying with the dwarves of the reclaimed Lonely Mountain where he ventured all those years ago. There's a good chance I'll never know the answer, Frodo thought sadly. His ponderings were interrupted by a familiar voice calling his name. He turned to see an outline running towards him down the dirt path.

"Pippin?"

"Have you heard the news?" His cousin slowed to a trot as he approached.

"What news, Pip?"

"Someone's moving into that dingy old hobbit hole a few homes down from yours." He breathed out.

Frodo was perplexed by Peregrin's blatant excitement. While it was true that few people moved in or out of the Shire, it was not anything that concerned himself or his relatives. He did not often converse with the neighbors, and, considering that they spoke very little to him anyway because of his adventure and because he lived with Bilbo, it didn't bother him much. Frodo's response was merely a shrug as he turned his attention back to unlocking his gate. Pippin placed a hand on both shoulders to stop him.

"Pippin, are you mad?" Frodo was only more confused by his cousin's behavior.

"Wait, I didn't finish. I needed to catch my breath. What I was going to say was, whoever's moving in, they're not from around here." Pippin looked him dead in the eyes as if what he had to say was of utmost importance.

"You mean the Shire?" Frodo moved back to loosen his cousin's grip. It pained the stab wound in his left shoulder.

"No, not just the Shire, Frodo. Not Bree, not Buckleberry, not anywhere in Hobbiton."

"Then where are they from?" Frodo was becoming a little frustrated by Peregrin's antics. Why couldn't he just get straight to the point?

"Can't be sure. I don't know all the details. I heard tell at the Green Dragon. I'm not even sure if he's a hobbit."

"Who else would move into a hobbit hole? A dwarf?" Frodo started feeling skeptical about his cousin's story. No doubt he had been drinking one too many flagons. "Pray tell, why is this news so important to you, anyway?"

"Not much else goes on around here these days. And, besides, in a few weeks' time, we'll have an outsider living in Bagshot Row!" Pippin seemed even more elated than before, if that were possible.

"Have you been smoking leaf with Merry again? You know what that does to you." Frodo smirked. The last time he had done so Frodo, Sam, and Meriadoc had to chase down a stark naked Peregrin Took who was convinced that he was a barn swallow who had to migrate to warmer climes. Thank God it was at night. Frodo had to admit himself that that particular batch was a tad strong for his liking.

"No, not at all. Haven't touched a pipe in days. I'm being completely earnest with you."

"I'll not believe it until I have physical proof. Would you like to come in for tea?" In Pippin's state of madness, it would be better for him to stay where he couldn't get into any trouble.

"With those little cakes?" He asked innocently. Free food was one thing Pippin could never turn down.

"I can make them for you if you want." Frodo unlatched the gate and held it out for him to take.

"Very well. I've got nothing better to do at the moment." Pippin agreed and followed his eldest cousin into the cozy Bag End residence.

Frodo did not take much of what his cousin had said to heart. Two weeks had passed since Pippin spoke of his so-called news and nothing had changed. He took his morning tea and biscuits out to the back porch. The air was considerably warmer now, and he no longer needed his mantle to shield him from the elements. Uncle Bilbo loves this time of year. Frodo gently sipped his chamomile-honeysuckle blend as he surveyed the verdant fields before him. He watched a farmer lead a plough team of ponies in the distance. Spring was most certainly here, and all the festivities and jollity of the season would soon follow. Frodo wasn't one for dancing like Pippin and Merry, but he loved the happy music that was often played on such occasions.

"If you want to win the favor of a pretty lass, you have to learn to dance, Frodo." Pippin had told him at one of last spring's parties as he stood up and did a little kick and sweep of his feet to demonstrate.

"But I already told you, I'm not looking to marry." Frodo replied.

"Who said anything about marriage?" Pippin gave him a sly smile. Frodo merely rolled his eyes. He would never grow up.

"Nonsense. Frodo has a special status now. He doesn't need to learn how to do anything to impress a lady." Said Merry. It was true. The four of them couldn't go to a tavern without a flirtatious or forward gesture towards his brown-haired cousin from a buxom barmaid.

"Mr. Frodo is a more reputable man than either of you. He'll settle down with a nice girl from a good upbringing and raise a family of his own one day, like me and Rosie." Said Sam Gamgee with a mouthful of corned beef. "And if he does what I believe you're suggesting, Pip, he'll do it for love and not for wanton lust."

"Sam!" Frodo shot his gardener a glare, but could not hide his blushed smile from pure embarrassment. Merry smirked at his pious reaction. "I repeat, I'm not looking to marry. Not now, not ever!"

"And why is that? You're no Peregrin." Sam directed his gaze to Frodo's youngest cousin, who was too busy swinging around a beautiful giggling Bracegirdle to hear him. "You're young and virile and there are many fine lasses out there who would love to wed."

"I'm just not interested. Can we please discuss something else?" Frodo was becoming exasperated, something he rarely ever did. Sam and Merry exchanged looks but decided to comply. It was obvious that matrimony was a tender spot for Frodo that should be left alone.

Frodo was interrupted from his flashback by a sudden commotion that could be heard from up the street, followed by a loud rapping at his front door. Frodo slipped around the front of the hole and found Pippin waiting eagerly.

"I told you I was right! I told you, I told you!" He was nearly jumping up and down like a little boy.

"Told me what?"

"Look, to your left! There's a crowd forming at the hobbit hole I told you about." Pippin turned his head for him and, sure enough, there was a throng of bystanders congregating up the hill which appeared to be the source of all the din.

"What are they waiting around for?" Frodo had never seen so many hobbits near Bag End, except for when they were going to one of Bilbo's parties, but those days were gone.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" Said Pippin, arrogance reflected in his tone. Together the two went up the incline and walked around to the front of the large gathering. Frodo saw two half-unloaded carts and men carrying strange-looking furniture into the front door. This would be the talk of the town for ages. Even the Sackville-Bagginses appeared to have gotten wind of it and felt compelled to poke in their noses, to no one's surprise.

"Well, if it isn't our dearest second cousin, Frodo." Said Lobelia Sackville-Baggins with fake sincerity. "Have you reconsidered our offer on Bag End?" Lobelia and Otho—but most especially Lobelia—would stop at nothing to acquire Bilbo's luxurious dwelling.

"I'm sorry, but I have not. I wish to keep Bag End for myself. It's where I was raised for the better part of my life, and it would prove too difficult to part with." Frodo was hoping that would be the last time he'd have to explain himself. It probably would not have been as difficult to leave as he had said, but he couldn't bear to watch Bag End fall into the hands of such a detestable couple.

Lobelia's smile disappeared and was replaced by a purse-lipped grin. No doubt his answer upset her in the worst way. "Well, I'm sorry you feel that way, dear cousin. I wish you the best of luck."

"As do I." Frodo gave her a polite nod and went to see where Pip had wandered off to before she could say anything else to try and change his mind. Knowing Peregrin, he had probably hidden himself within the crowd when he saw the likes of Otho and Lobelia. The Tooks and the Sackville-Bagginses had a long history of dispute and rivalry.

"Pippin!" Frodo exclaimed when he had finally found him.

"Sorry for leaving you, Frodo. I saw them." Pippin sharpened his glare at an irate-looking Lobelia and her consoling, weak-willed husband from across the way.

"I understand completely. You did what you had to." Frodo looked to his cousin sincerely. Pippin nodded.

"Is it true, what you said about whoever's moving in?" Asked Frodo.

"What did I say?"

"I believe you said that they aren't from anywhere around here. Surely the farthest they would've come from is Bree."

"I've been eavesdroppin' while you were conversing with the she-balrog of Bagshot. The claim still stands firm: whoever's moving in, he's not anyone people here know, and he most likely isn't from Hobbiton." Pippin reported excitedly. After most of the furniture was taken inside of the smial, the crowd started to disperse as each hobbit decided to continue on with his or her daily routine. Frodo had to admit that he'd never seen furniture of such fine craftsmanship. Almost all of it was white or of a lighter color and etched with intricate engravings, some reminding him of elven patterns he had seen while recovering in Rivendell. Whoever this mysterious person is, he is obviously well-traveled. I shall very much like to meet with him when he arrives, Frodo thought to himself. Pippin was more excited by the buzz of the spectators than by the subject of their amusement, and now that they were all going their separate ways, it seemed that he wanted to do the same.

"Come along, Frodo." He tugged at his cousin's shirtsleeve. "We've seen all there is to see." Lost in the possibilities of what was to come, Frodo blindly obeyed.