A/N: This was written for Baranduin's New Year's Mathom Challenge (for all of the fics written for that, go here: baranduin.us/mathomgennew.htm). Authors submitted requests for fics, and were assigned someone else's request to write. It was quite fun, actually. :)

This was my assignment, by request of Iorhael: We always assumed Frodo is such a loner. but how come everyone seemed to love him? This story will reveal how his daily life had been in Hobbiton before he got the Ring. (But if you want to include a little about the Ring, that's OK!)

_Opinions_

"No good will come of this," grumbled Milo Brockhouse, watching from afar as the dark-haired lad and his uncle entered the hole, followed by a swarm of relatives, mostly youngsters, who carried the orphan's meagre possessions into the smial. His statement was met with grunts of agreement from his friends, also observing the proceedings. They had been enjoying a peaceful smoke outside the Brockhouse home when that Baggins paraded by with a gaggle of his Brandybuck relations. Their conversation had fallen silent as they cast looks of disgust at the crazy fellow and his newest mad scheme.

"That Brandybuck don' belong here," put in Falco Chubb, waving his pipe in emphasis before clamping his teeth upon the stem with more force than necessary.

"You louts are too hard on the poor lad," Gilly Brockhouse scolded from the kitchen window above their heads where they sat on a garden bench against the wall of the modest hole.

"He's nothin' but trouble," her husband countered. "A rascal through and through. Stealing from the farmers, causing mischief wherever he goes... All of Hobbiton will rue the day Frodo Baggins came to stay, mark my words."

"Nonsense," she retorted, reaching out the window to smack him with the towel she held. He moved his pipe from the reach of the swinging weapon and rolled his eyes. "The boy needs attention, is all," she continued. "He'll behave now that he's being looked after."

Olo Proudfoot choked at her words. "Being looked after by Bilbo Baggins won't help any," he spluttered. "He's got no sense. The lad will just take up his oddities and go off with those dwarves and such folk."

"So would you rather the lad go neglected in that warren the Brandybucks call home, or speak with a few strange folks? His parents were sensible hobbits; he'll not take up his uncle's ways."

Silence reigned for a few moments as the menfolk digested her words, staring at the closed green door over yonder. "We'll see," Milo said grudgingly. "But just you wait, he'll turn out bad, one way or t'other."

~~~~

Years passed, and by all appearances the lad Frodo thrived in his uncle's care. Contrary to some predictions, he no longer lived up to his reputation as a rascal, and while some mischief is always to be expected from tweenagers, and lads in particular, these pranks were never harmful and served as great amusement for the younger lads and lasses. He had a good many friends, not just amongst his nearer relatives, though most all of them were younger than he, for his peers often considered him too flighty and his imagination too outlandish to associate with. But the younger ones relished his invented tales and easygoing nature, and whenever they were nearby, all were welcomed into the spacious Bag End for tea, cakes, and stories from the great Bilbo himself about his adventures.

While the ladies of Hobbiton did not enjoy the tales of far-off places as their children did, and discouraged talk of such things when the young ones returned home, they were pleased by the conduct of the lad. He was polite as you could please, offering assistance in carrying packages from market and holding doors open for lasses of every age. As he grew with the passing years, many mothers eyed him as a potential match for their girls -both for his looks and the inheritance he would eventually receive- and behaved accordingly, extolling their daughters' virtues in his presence and encouraging 'chance' encounters where they could observe his behavior with each lass from afar. He received such advances with good humour, refusing none but also making no promises as he neared his coming-of-age.

The Baggins' joint birthday celebration in Halimath grew to be a much anticipated event by all in Hobbiton and this year was no different. In fact, this year promised to be especially grand, for Frodo was to finally reach his majority and his very well-preserved guardian was to turn 111, a most unusual number. The party itself met and exceeded even the highest expectations, snowing food and raining drink, and with dancing, presents for all, and even some grand fireworks from that wizard. A good time was had by all... until Bilbo Baggins disappeared in a puff of smoke and put a damper on the festivities. It was not long before the Brandybucks led the crowd in returning attention to the plenteous vittles still available for consumption, but questions still lingered in the back of everyone's minds.

Many turned up at Bag End's green door the next day in hopes of getting some answers, Gilly Brockhouse among them. She and her husband had been in attendance the previous night, and were suitably taken aback by Bilbo's vanishing, so she had come to see what the lad would say about it. He seemed distracted, but was very gracious as he informed the crowd at his door that Bilbo had left and would not be returning. Having no further business with Bag End's new master, Gilly left the crush of hobbits and returned home, wondering all the while how the lad would behave now that he was left to his own devices. She hoped he would prove her correct and settle down as a proper hobbit should, marrying and raising a family.

Frodo's first years as Master of Bag End were unremarkable. He continued to associate with his friends as of old, but even so did not neglect his new duties, and with a bit of time proved himself most capable in resolving those disputes traditionally brought before the Master when the Mayor was elsewhere (which was almost all of the time). His diplomacy in suggesting solutions that preserved the dignity of all involved was often remarked upon and always commended.

It was in hope of an equitable solution that Gilly went in search of young Master Baggins in the seventh year since he gained that title. She finally located him in the Ivy Bush, eating luncheon alone at a back table. "Good day, Master Baggins," she greeted as she approached his table.

He swallowed before responding, "Good day, Mistress Brockhouse. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Why, yes, there is. It won't take but a moment of your time."

"Please, sit down," he invited, gesturing at the bench across from him. He pushed his bowl and plate aside, clasping his hands upon the table in preparation to listen attentively, and once she was properly settled, he asked, "So what seems to be the problem?"

Before she could set forth the situation, a serving lass came by to refill his ale and remove his empty dishes. "Would you like anything?" he asked, gesturing for the lass to remain a moment.

"A cup of tea would be splendid. Thank you."

He nodded to acknowledge her request and the lass soon returned with the tea. After a few sips, the matron explained that a disagreement had surfaced between her husband and a few of their neighbors regarding the boundaries between each parcel of pastureland. "We had been sharing it, but now one of the Chubb lads wants to use their portion as a larger family garden, and it's been so long since we took down the separating fences that we don't know where each piece begins and ends," she finished with a small laugh.

Sitting in thoughtful silence for a moment, he drank from his mug before replying. "It would be best to locate the original deeds for the land, but if there is too much delay the Chubbs will not be able to plant at the proper time," he mused aloud. "Would it be acceptable if I come by tomorrow after second breakfast to set up a temporary boundary until those papers can be found? Provided, of course, that your neighbors find this agreeable."

"That should meet everyone's approval," Gilly answered with a smile, most pleased with the arrangement. "Thank you, Master Baggins! My husband was reluctant to bother you with this, but I knew 'twould be better to ask and get the matter resolved quickly." She eyed him critically as she took a long draw from her teacup, and he met her gaze evenly. "You have a good head on your shoulders, lad. 'Tis a pity my girls are long grown and married, or I'm sure you'd have drawn their full attention."

Frodo coloured a bit and looked down at the contents of his mug in an attempt to regain his composure. "Thank you. And yes, there are a number of lasses vying for my affections, though I cannot confess to preferring any in particular at this point."

It was a line he'd been giving for years, and the way he was blushing all the way to the tips of his ears made her inclined to believe there was in fact a certain lass who had caught his fancy. But she would not pry; it was not her place, and she had no real interest in the outcome of this courtship game anyway. "That is all right," she said, reaching across the table to pat his hand consolingly. "You have some time yet to wed and have bairns, if your uncle's longevity is any indication of your future."

He was no longer blushing; his face had become an unreadable mask, and she wondered fleetingly if she'd said something to offend him. Tipping his mug to finish his ale in one long draught, he set it down and rose. "Indeed. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."

"Of course, by all means. Good day, Master Baggins."

"Good day," he inclined his head in respect before going to pay his tab and depart. Gilly remained at the table, slowly finishing her tea and musing over his reactions to the conversation. She'd tried to remain tactful, though she was certain that others in her place would not have been so polite, but somehow mentioning his uncle made him react rather strongly. Perhaps he meant to follow ol' Mad Baggins' ways and remain unwed -a thing most remarkable- and perhaps even journey off into the unknown... She shivered at the thought, and hoped he would not do so, for his own sake; she would hate to see such a kind and courteous lad come to harm.

Whatever he ends up doing, she knew this conversation would prove excellent fodder for gossip. Especially in the matter of whom may have captured the young Baggins' heart...

~fin~