BAGGINS MADNESS

"Good morning, Mister Gamgee."

The Gaffer visibly jumped, and Frodo bit back a giggle, watching him cast about in alarm. "Who's there?"

"Up here." Frodo parted the branches to grin down.

"Gandalf's beard! Thought I was hearin' ghosts. What you doin' up there? You got a death wish? You're like to fall."

Now Frodo laughed in earnest. "Sorry. I can see for miles from up here."

Hamfast shook his finger. "Mayhap. But climbin' trees ain't proper for a hobbit. And that's a fact!" He stomped away, muttering under his breath. "Scarin' good, honest folk. Tis Baggins madness."

END

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CREDENCE

Frodo Baggins was moving to Crickhollow. Most approved of his intention to return to relations in Buckland. Less charitable folk were happy for him to take his strange ways back to where they were more acceptable.

The occupants of Bagshot Row had mixed feelings; sad to lose a good landlord, but very happy to be gifted the deeds to their smials. Nobody wanted the Sackville-Baggins' as landlords.

Quieter rumour murmured the move was a ruse; that Mr Baggins intended to follow his mad uncle into the wilds. Nobody gave that thought much credence. Who would wish to leave the Shire?

END

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DEEDS

Sam unwrapped Frodo's book.

"Careful!" Rose cried, as she grabbed for a packet that slid from between its pages. "What is it?" She stroked fingers across fine vellum bound in bright red tape.

Bag End's key weighed heavy in Sam's pocket, and a tear fell. "Oh, Mister Frodo." Loosening the tape, he spread the crisp document reverently between them.

"Mister Frodo Baggins hereby transfers title to Bag End, of The Hill, Hobbiton, and all his other properties and possessions, to Rose and Samwise Gamgee, and their heirs, in perpetuity."

Rose hugged her husband. "He's not comin' back, then."

END

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ECHOES OR PROMISES?

Only months ago Frodo had never seen a beach. Those glimpsed when sailing from the Havens looked golden, but these were purest white. Burrowing beneath the sun-warmed surface, toes took refuge in the cooler under-layer. Frodo had imagined sand to be grainy, like the lighter soils of the South Farthing, but this was more akin to fine, powdered, chalk.

At his side was a selection of shells. Elrond could name each species, but that was of little interest to the Ringbearer. Empty, fragile, yet still delicately beautiful, when held to his ear they murmured ... of distant memory, or future hope?

END

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IRE AND INVITATION

Celebrian followed her husband's stiff back. Elrond dropped onto shelving stone, his reflection scowling up from a still pool below. He did not acknowledge her so she settled at his side, laying silvered head upon his tense shoulder. "Will talking help?"

Silence, then, "Thranduil is being intractable, as usual."

She let him seethe a little longer. "Your silent anger will not change him, only you." Celebrian leaned in to nip at the sensitive tip of his ear, in delicate invitation.

How easily she could defuse his ire. Elrond sighed, turning to lose himself in the welcoming harbour of her body.

END

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LOST

An age ago, Frodo had thought the Shire's Brandywine, the largest body of water in the world. The quest disabused him of that notion. Even Merry, raised beside the river, had been cowed by the Anduin.

This sea was overwhelming. Walking the length of the ship, Frodo saw only rolling water in all directions. Mind could not encompass the dark depth, and boundless width of it. If he jumped in, he would truly be lost to the world; a tiny, inconsequential, speck.

Bilbo's gnarled hand gripped his shoulder. "Come on, lad. Let's eat. These elves set a very good table."

END

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STORAGE

(Author notes: The Red Book of Westmarch only records that Lotho Sackville-Baggins disappeared, some time during Sharkey's occupation of the Shire.)

They could hardly bear to see the interior of the once beautiful Bag End. Sharkey had taken pains to destroy or befoul everything, and the companions insisted Frodo not be allowed to help with the clearup.

In a cellar stood the one piece of furniture untouched; once one of Mr Bilbo's tall wardrobes. Now Sam approached with some trepidation, for the stench did not bode well. A little later Pippin found him throwing up in the garden. All Sam could gasp was, "Tell Merry to burn that wardrobe. And Pip...don't look inside."

They never spoke of it to Mistress Lobelia.

END