Disclaimers: I do not own The Lord of the Rings. J.R.R. Tolkien does.
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Frodo rushed inside his parents' house. The air smelt of spring flowers. The nearby pots were filled with those white and pink flowers. He was eight years old, and yet even he couldn't stop from flying through the hallway. He was stopped by his father, whose curly brown hair was as thick as his own. If there was one difference it was that his mother's eyes were as blue as his own, but far more sapphire than his own color. His father had pristine green eyes. And his five-year-old brother Grodo… Frodo could say they looked like twins. He donned a white dress shirt and brown knee breeches, whereas Frodo wore a blue shirt with green knee breeches.
But all of this wasn't a concern of Frodo's. "How is she? How's Mama?"
"Patience," Drogo told his children. There was a painful scream. It sounded bad.
"Maybe I should…" Frodo was blocked by Drogo's hand.
"Wait." Drogo warned. "We're not allowed in. We'll just…"
"Drogo," the midwife said, opening the door. "You may go in now. Same with you and Grodo, Frodo."
"Thanks," Frodo said, following his father and brother into his parents' room. He stopped, even as his brother climbed up on their mother's bed. There she was, carrying a tiny baby. The baby looked so cute… or adorable.
Drogo kissed Primula's forehead. "What have you named her?" He snapped his head towards Grodo. "Easy. Let your mother think."
"Patience," Primula announced softly.
"What?" Drogo was confused.
"That's her name. Patience. Patience Baggins," Primula said, smiling warmly.
"It's an odd name," Frodo announced without retaliation.
"Frodo," Drogo said, serious.
"What? It's true…" he regretted the action. "But it's a good name."
"Patience it is," Primula said, smiling.
"I hope she doesn't cause trouble," Frodo warned.
"She's your sister now," Drogo told him. "Treat her with respect."
"Okay," Frodo said, but he wasn't sure this was such a good idea.
…
It was a hot summer's day. Frodo was fourteen. His parents were gone, but the pain still lingered. He could not bear to face another death, not one that split him from his brother. He didn't ask for the Sackville-Bagginses to raise Grodo. He should have done that. But this… this was different. He stood up. The door opened. There was his cousin, Saradoc Brandybuck. He didn't say much. Only nodded.
"Patience will see you now," Saradoc said in a somber tone. "But Grodo insists on staying with her."
"Thank you," Frodo said, entering the bedroom. He couldn't bear to see his sister so ill and bed-ridden. There was his brother, Grodo. Was he still mad?
"Mother's gone!" Grodo complained. "And father's gone. And here you are, raising Patience for me, while I'm stuck with the Sackville-Bagginses. Tell me, why are you so privileged."
"It wasn't my choice," Frodo said, taking a seat opposite from his brother. "I was just trying to…"
"Yeah. You keep on behaving like that, and you'll end up like our parents," Grodo complained. "You were our parents' favorite child."
"We both were. Mother loved us both. Father cared about us, Grodo," Frodo explained, serious. "Why aren't you happy?"
"Frodo," Patience murmured, her hand extended out to him. She looked at Grodo last. Frodo saw the light in her eyes fade away. And yet, the still expression was on Grodo. Grodo smiled, even after Frodo gently closed their sister's eyes.
"You see, brother?" Grodo asked, beside himself. "She does love me."
"It was for both of us," Frodo said. Tears welled up in his eyes. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. Not when Grodo…
"Our sister cares about me. Cared about me," Grodo said, thrilled. "Wait till I tell Auntie Lobelia." He rushed out of the bedroom, filled with such joy. Frodo shook his head. Even he knew better than this. He wished he could just reason with his brother. But their sister was gone now and he… he felt alone.
His heart was empty now. Who could he turn to for help and guidance? Maybe the Brandybucks and Bilbo Baggins were the only family he, Frodo Baggins, had that cared about him. But then, if only he knew of a way to make Grodo see that even the Sackville-Bagginses had their flaws. But how? How could he convince him? He feared he wouldn't know what to do or say. He hoped things wouldn't be worse than what they already were… he hoped it as much.
…
Frodo ventured out into Hobbiton. The battle against Saruman and Grima Wormtongue had reached its end. They were both dead, slain by Frodo's kin. He could have stopped them. He tried, but it was all for not. They killed the wizard and yet… where was his brother. Probably battling with the hobbits… no. Instead, he found Lotho's body, next to Grodo. They weren't moving, they weren't breathing. They were dead.
Frodo couldn't bear the thought. He lost a sister and now a brother. He lost his parents. He lost Boromir. He nearly lost Middle-earth, if it weren't for Gollum's save, and maybe Eru Iluvatar's save as well. The Shire was destroyed, almost, except for the life that was blooming.
It seemed everything he cared about was spent, nearly spent. But spent nonetheless. He breathed in a few sighs. Instead, he took to burying Lotho and Grodo in front of Bag End. Few might remember them, but Frodo wasn't about to let it get to him. He lost too much, and now his brother was gone. There was only one thing he could do now, now that the Shire was being rebuilt: find a way to grieve over the loss of his brother or move on. He would choose the latter, and he did choose it. For even after the Shire was growing back to life, Sam's wedding took place and children came about, Frodo's time was up.
"Mr. Frodo," Sam asked, as they neared the Grey Havens, "will I see you again?"
"In another time, Sam," Frodo said, gently, as he watched the looming elven city by the bay draw closer, "we will see each other again." As he kissed Sam's forehead and bid his cousins' farewell, one thing was clear. He would see them all again someday. And someday, things would be set right. For now, this would do. This was where he belonged now. Nothing more needed to be done.
The End.
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Thanks for reading. :)