"Of course, you dolt!" Merry said. "Sometimes," he drawled, his voice slow and deliberate, "You're denser than a block of wood."

"Indeed," Frodo added, and both of them started laughing again. "You had better get into another change of clothes, Pip, and give something to Merry and Sam, too. We can stop by BagEnd on the way to Rosie's."

The company of hobbits quickly smartened themselves up a bit, washing away all the dried mud, pepper, various bits of food, and many other miscellaneous things off their skin, and then, after Pippin had produced sets of spare clothing, those who needed clean clothing changed into it. "Are we all set to go to BagEnd, then?" Frodo asked in an anxious voice.

"'Spose so," Merry answered, equally anxious, "It'll rain if we don't get moving quickly!"

They set off at a brisk pace, once again risking Frodo's now-infamous "shortcut". This time, however, no apples were thrown. The entire company was anxious to reach BagEnd before a supposed rainfall came, and in almost record time, they reached the gates of Hobbiton. Few hobbits were still out, as the sky hung heavy and dark gray, an ominous apprehension of what surely would come quickly and heavily. Those who still remained moved quickly, nervously glancing now and then at the sky, using a haunt's ghastly movements in a light, listless step.

Suddenly, a shiver of a delicious queasiness ran up Frodo's spine, and in his mind, a warning rang, a sudden break in the tension of not knowing that something was wrong consciously instantly broken. And such a thick presence of something was on the very edge of the air. The thought of Bilbo entered his mind, and he thought, Bilbo, something's happened to Bilbo. And the image of that mysterious ring hidden in the bottom of an old trunk flashed into his mind, and an image of Gandalf, with his long gray beard trailing as he broke into a swift gait on a smooth black horse. And the rain, it's all connected, there is a sign that something was wrong with Bilbo…and Gandalf was going to save him, or something…but what about that ring? Frodo thought, trying nervously to piece together the entire puzzle. It's more than the ring, or Bilbo, isn't it? he thought, Is it the entire Shire? It has to do with the Ring…That thought sent him a more forceful feeling of evil through his entire body, but as he ran with the rest of the hobbits up to the gates of BagEnd, he tried to shake it off his mind.

Fortunately, for a time, something else could occupy his thoughts. "Umm…Frodo, do you have the key?" Pippin asked, his voice a bit nervous. "See, the gates locked, and…well, how do we get in?"

Frodo cursed himself silently for his stupidity. "Well, I certainly don't have one, I mean, I never take one with me. I know the house door isn't locked, that's certain, but the gate…Oh, Sam and I must have locked it by mistake when we left for your house, Pippin!"

Merry looked at the gate, standing about four feet tall. "If we pushed you over, Mr. Frodo, do you think that you could unlock it?"

Frodo laughed, a bit awkwardly. "I can sure as fire try, Merry, and if that doesn't work, then I'll find the key inside. If I get inside, I mean."

That let a sigh of relief pass over them, as the sky was quickly deepening to a dark black and the clouds were churning quickly into a soon dance of thunder. "Well, how should we go about it?" Sam asked. "Me and Merry and Pip could make a base for your feet, and you could climb on top of that."

"Yes, that would work," Frodo said, calculating things out in his mind. "You come here, Sam…you there, Merry," he said, directing them to places along the gate. Merry stood across from Sam, grabbing the upper parts of Sam's arm and Sam doing the same with Merry's. "And Pippin, you just make sure I don't fall, alright? This isn't a genius plan, but it will suffice fairly well, I suppose."

He walked swiftly over to Sam and Merry. "Now lower your arms…steadily now!" He set himself gingerly on to of the improvised loft. "Now up! Yes, I am heavy, deal with it, and Pippin! Watch my…" Frodo paused as he caught the top of the gate from the swaying loft, "Balance. Now, I'm going over on one, two, three!" And with that, he swung himself over the gate, while Merry and Sam collapsed on top of Pippin, and triumphantly opened the door. "There," he said, rather pleased until he saw that Merry, Sam, and Pippin were all tangled up. He sighed, heaved Sam off the top of the mess, and offered each Merry and Pippin a hand. "Honestly, Sam, Merry, Pip, what would you be without me?" he said, pulling the two younger hobbits up.

"A whole lot safer, that's what," Sam muttered, causing a snicker from Pippin.

"I heard that," Frodo said loftily as he started to enter BagEnd in front of the rest, "But you certainly wouldn't be going to Rosie's party without me." With that, the others shut up and promptly followed Frodo inside.

"Just wait in the hall, I'll be out in a second," Frodo called as he raced to find a clean set of clothes. Quickly, he changed into a pair of clean trousers and a freshly washed shirt. He glanced at the clock that sat on a shelf and it read quarter-till five. Seeing he had time, he crept to the kitchen and started to search for a trunk, an old leather trunk, tucked somewhere under a counter. Before finding it, however, he picked up a small something off the floor, and smiling, he tucked it into his pocket.

He found it, his heart pounding frantically in his chest as he undid the ties that held the lid closed. It's nothing, he thought, just an old trunk! As he shifted through a chaos of old papers, his heart kept beating faster still, until he found what he had been looking for at the bottom: an old envelope. He sighed with relief at seeing that it was untouched, but somehow, the relief was not at all sweet. It did not take the edge off his mind, and it was something more powerful, a presence, a slight subtle premonition that somehow he felt was changing everything, though the Shire's hills were still the same sloping ones, his fellow hobbit comrades still the lovable imbeciles.

He put the envelope back at the bottom and buried it in a sea of Bilbo's old notes, records of spending and the suchlike. Though supposedly Bilbo had been the wealthiest hobbit on all of Hobbiton, the myths of treasure in buried tunnels were untrue, though they had had no lack of recourses; only by managing careful budgets had they been able to live in the moderate comfort that they had now. After he shoved the trunk back under a pocked wooden counter and covered it with other old wicker containers of envelopes and records, he stood up and rushed into the hall to his companions.

"Finally, Frodo! You take so long to get dressed!" Pippin complained. "Honestly, we were betting on what was taking you longer, your hair or picking out the right shirt. I said shirt, was I right?"

"No, actually," Frodo responded quietly. "I was going through some of Bilbo's old papers, for just a moment. Sorry." This sobered the rest of the hobbits immediately, and painful memories of Bilbo's departure lay heavily on their minds. Frodo smiled, albeit a bit sadly, and said, "Come on, now, don't get depressed. Let's go to Rosie's, okay?"

Without words, the rest of the company acknowledged his words, and started out the door, down the lane to get into the heart of the small Hobbiton. "Actually, Pippin, I couldn't find a suitable shirt at all. Do you think that this one becomes me?" His tone was sarcastically serious.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Frodo, you'll be the finest hobbit at the party," Pippin answered, equally sarcastic.

"Oh, and something else held me back, too. Here, Sam," Frodo said, flicking a small piece of wood at the back of the hobbit's head.

Sam flinched, and brushed the offending piece of wood gingerly away. "First apples, Mr. Frodo, now wood? What's gotten into you today, with your odd affection with throwing things at my head?"

In perfect synchronization, Merry and Pippin looked at Sam in Frodo, at each other, and said at the same time, "Apples?"

"Really, I don't want to know," Merry said. "Don't tell me. And look!" he said, changing the subject abruptly, "We're here!"

They entered a small courtyard filled with mingling hobbits, eating various plates of food, and drinking from heavy pewter tankards of ale. The piper Frodo had seen earlier, from the corner of the square, played jaunty tunes quietly in the corner, and the company settled down quickly into the rhythm of the party, talking loudly and laughing a-plenty. When the dancing started, with a mischievous grin, Frodo pushed a blushing Sam towards a giggly Rosie Cottonwood, Sam's ears flaming crimson as he started her into a jig.

Laughing quietly to himself, Frodo looked away from Sam and Rosie, and his eyes landed on Merry and Pippin, who were laughing loudly and rather drunkenly at one of the tables. Concernedly, he rushed over to them. "Are you…all right, Pippin? Merry?" They were surrounded by several empty pewter mugs, and upon hearing Frodo's discomfort, burst into laughing several moments off cue.

"We're fine…MR. Frodo," Pippin laughed, putting too much emphasis on each word, particularly the Mister. This sent Merry into hysterics, and smiling, too, Pippin carried on. "We just had a drink, a fine sir over THERE," he said, gesturing over-exuberantly around in circles, indicating the whole yard. "Well, he gave us a drink or so…and then another…and 'nother, and 'nother, until Merry said we should start a collection! So we DID!" He started to laugh again, but halted briefly to pull Merry up, who was sagging from laughing so hard. "And then," his tone turned into a dazed sort of sadness, as his out-of-focus eyes landed on an empty tankard, "We RAN out. Innit sad?"

Frodo sighed, and pulled Pippin up who, unfortunately, had just started to slump as well. "Come on, just stop drinking, and try to get home before you pass out, okay?" He looked up at the twinkling sky that had just started to fade out of the gray into a light blue and hazy periwinkle; the rain had not come, and the darkness had passed. He silently stood there for a moment, cursing his friends' stupidity.

Pippin perked up. "Righto, Mr.… FRODO!" Frodo left them giggling madly.

The dusty twilight quickly faded into the deep depressions of night. The songs of late birds broke the air, and a tranquility tainted with apprehension lay about the Shire. The stars shimmered out from the thick black field of the sky, and the light filtered gently, slowly down, accompanied by the sharp sweet light of the moon. And the hobbits slowly started to depart into the night, one by one, until only Sam, Rosie, and Frodo were left, not accounting the passed-out Merry and Pippin, who were hiccuping softly in the corner.

"G'night, Rosie," Frodo called as he left the party, Sam in tow.

"G'night, Frodo. Good night…Sam," she called, giggling on Sam's name. If possible, Sam blushed even deeper.

"Good night, Rosie," Sam said, his face positively on fire.

"You will make sure that Merry and Pippin get home safe, right?" Frodo called, turning around to make sure that his drunken friends would, indeed, be safe. Though the clouds had passed without rainfall, he still couldn't shake that sign.

"I will, I'll get someone to take them home once they've sobered up a bit," she called back.

The pair of started to walk back to BagEnd, and a vague ease settled over Frodo. Just as the clouds had passed, maybe the evil that the clouds forewarned would pass as well. "Sam?" Frodo asked. "Sam?"

"What?" Sam asked, with a frenzied tone to his syllables. "What? Sorry, I was thinking…"

"About what, Rosie?" Frodo teased, enjoying so to see his friend blush. "Anyway," his tone softened, into the same thoughtful, light listless tone he had used earlier that day. "Sam, do you think those clouds meant anything? I mean, as in a premonition? I just can't shake this feeling I have, Sam, I just know that something is going to happen, but I can't tell what yet."

"Well, I don't know Mr. Frodo," Sam said, in a skeptical tone. "I mean, clouds are fairly irrelevant when you are concerning with 'omens' and such."

Frodo stopped Sam, a smile on his lips, this time not of bemusement, or sadness, but genuine care for his friend, a smile that clearly said, Silly, silly Samwise Gamgee. "Don't you see after all this time, Sam?" he asked, his tone soft and smooth and unearthly tranquil, filled with care. "Everything has relevance, everything has a meaning. Just as the day when Gandalf left, it was dark and deathly quite, it is today: the clouds, the darkness, that feeling of apprehension. And when Bilbo left, it was utterly somber, a feeling on the air felt by all, even though the atmosphere was a party. But don't you see, the clouds passed? If the clouds mean evil, does that mean the evil, too, will pass? What do you think that means?"

Sam smiled back at Frodo. "I don't know, Frodo, I just don't know. But whatever it means, you know I'll always be there for you, don't you?"

Frodo nudged Sam's shoulder playfully, and they started up the lane towards BagEnd. "Of course, Sam…of course." He smiled at Sam again, once again an ease settling over him. "Overall, though, wouldn't you say that this has been a very odd day?"

"That it has, though a fine day, one fine day indeed," Sam said with a hint of a laugh on his voice. They approached the gate, and Sam stopped. "Good night, Mr. Frodo."

"Good night, Sam."

Frodo walked up to the door, and found it strangely open. I didn't leave it open when I left, did I? he asked himself, knowing that he hadn't. Something wasn't right, he could feel it in the very depths of his being, and somehow, he knew something wouldn't be right for a long time to come yet. He entered cautiously, and started towards the kitchen when a hand, a large one grabbed his shoulder. He turned instantly around, shoulders tense and nerves sharp, to be faced with Gandalf.

"Is it secret?" Gandalf hissed, "Is it safe?"

"Is…what safe?" Frodo asked, subconsciously knowing the answer. It was the Ring, the Ring would be what would alter the fates of all.

After they had settled into a serious talk, and Frodo had learnt of the horrors of the Ring, he knew, knew that the clouds, the visions of Gandalf and Bilbo and the Ring had been signs. Suddenly, Gandalf strode over the window to a faint rustling noise. Frodo got down on the floor, his heart racing. Gandalf abruptly pulled up Sam, and in that mask of fear and fury, Frodo didn't envy Sam for looking straight into Gandalf's face. "Samwise Gamgee," Gandalf said curtly. "I might have known." There was a wry smile on his lips, and Frodo wanted to laugh with relief.

By the time the next morning in which Frodo and Sam had been discussing what to do the previous day, they had started their journey to the Inn of the Prancing Pony. "What did I tell you about relevance, Sam?" Frodo asked, his tone serene and un-accusing.

"That everything was relevant, Mr. Frodo, and, indeed, you were right."

"Well, we'll be on our toes, then. Remember what old Bilbo used to say, Sam? It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step out onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to." Bilbo's voice echoed in Frodo's ears, and for a split second, the desire to forsake the Ring, all the troubles of the world, and to run through the fresh fields of the Shire, to laugh without care, to see Bilbo's face when he came back from a long, hard day, overwhelmed his senses.

"We'll just have to watch our feet, then, Mr. Frodo."

Frodo smiled. "Indeed, we will." And though the desire and the intense love of the Shire and the sloping hills and fresh fields still ran through his veins, Frodo could feel a change: not a longing for adventure, like Bilbo's, nor a long for danger, but he could feel the change of heart from a naïve person to a strong one, and though the road would be long and hard, he could face up to it, and, at that moment, together with Sam he felt as though he could do anything.

*

Frodo recalled that memorable day in the Shire, the one when his part with the Ring had begun. A small smile played on his lips as he tried to follow Legolas' bow, which was the point in front of him that he could clearly see and follow in the great veil of snow. The entire Fellowship had bravely set into the cool Misty Mountains, determined not to have to pass through the Mines of Moria by choice. Good ol' Sam and Merry and Pip, I wonder if they remember that day too… Frodo said, the memory of that summer day keeping him warm through all the sheets of ice.

And suddenly…he was filled with a great feeling of emptiness, something like he had just let go of his home, of the Shire, without realizing it, and the feeling of loss weighed subtly on the brink of his conscious. And suddenly…he was determined: I won't let this get me down, he though fiercely, as another sheet of snow fell closer than ever before to the Fellowship and the sheer weight of the Ring and the tiredness that had been gnawing on his mind for the last few days started to relapse his mind. I have to stay strong! I will go home to the Shire, he thought as another sheet of snow fell closer, I will go home, and once this evil is destroyed… I'll go home. Another smile settled gently onto his lips and the warmth of it spread through his entire body, keeping him warm through the icy haze.

***

Closing notes: Wow! I am rather pleased with this end result, though it is much different than how I originally intended it to be. I thought it would be just a teeny-weeny idea…I was really wrong!

I know that this fic is not entirely true to the novel, as it doesn't at all happen this way in the book; I read the entire trilogy, just as any devoted LOTR's fan has! But I though I'd give some ties to the movie as well, so this is the final result, a rather odd combination.

Thank you for reading! I am unsure if I should break this into chapters…please contact me @ UmbrellaKitty@hotmail.com if you have any ideas. I hope you enjoyed a drunken Merry and Pippin, a devious Frodo, and I'm sorry if there is any OOC! I know the 'wood' joke was done to death, but I'm sorry; I'm still not very good with humor! Thanks bunches, love you all! ~ Feather =^-^=