Frodo squinted in the sunlight as the figures grew nearer. I should probably fetch Bilbo, if he has visitors.. He found Bilbo with a pen in his hand and ink on his fingers. After Frodo's news, he immediately abandoned his post.
"I'm sure it's none other than Master Hamfast Gamgee and his boy Sam. You remember the gardner, don't you? Young Samwise is a good lad, about six years of age...or is he eight? I never can remember, and the small ones grow so fast." Bilbo smiled at Frodo with his last remark. "I wouldn't mind having a nice chat with Hamfast after all. Would you like to join me?" Frodo shook his head and politely declined Bilbo's invitation. Though he often got along best with the younger hobbits, rather than those his own age, he had no desire to share the company of the hobbit boy. He had spent much of his time in Buckland with his small cousin Merry, and was quite enjoying being able to spend time with himself.
Frodo retreated to his room and tried to read his book, but he soon grew restless. The quiet in Bag End was almost unsettling, and it was a beautiful day. Still craving privacy, he slipped out of a side door, usually used to retrieve firewood in the winter. Often labeled a bookworm, Frodo actually loved the outdoors, but he had never preferred the wrestling and tumbling games that seemed so popular among lads his age. The only typical thing he had ever done was sneak into Farmer Maggot's fields. He longed for the seemingly noble sword fights and wars he had read about in books, and would dream up wild adventures. Sometimes he could even recruit Merry into the game, but the boy soon tired of being the 'damsel in distress'. Frodo laughed at the memory of his cousin wrapped in bedsheets, a scowl on his face. I don't suppose there is any reason for me not to have adventures here at Bag End, he thought, picking up a fallen branch from a nearby tree. In fact, I feel I'm in store for some amazing ones.
"Back! Get back!" He yelled as he lunged at imaginary enemies with his 'sword'. The branch was thin and made a pleasing whipping sound when he waved it. "None defy Frodo the Fearless! You shall not enter the Shire!" He continued to fight off wolves, orcs and other monstrosities he had read about, occasionally whacking the ground with the branch and sending leaves flying. Confident he had defeated all the phantom foes, he held his weapon above his head. "This sword shall be called Oakwhip, and all evil will cower at the name of Frodo the Fearless!"
"Actually, that branch comes from a willow."
Frodo spun around and managed to smack his arm with the branch in the process. His cheeks grew rosy with embarassment, for the speaker had been Bilbo, and he had another hobbit with him. Both were grinning widely, and it was obvious they had been watching a bit of the escapade.
"My, you've grown since I last had a glimpse o' ye," said Bilbo's companion, who Frodo guessed to be the gardner. He held out a brown hand, and Frodo accepted it. "I don't es'pect you 'member me, but I certainly do you! Hamfast Gamgee, at your service, sir." Frodo was somewhat taken aback by the title 'sir', and was instantly aware of the stick still in his hand. He dropped it to the ground quickly, as if it was something foul, a sheepish look on his face. Bilbo chuckled quietly, and waved a hand at Frodo.
"Why don't you let Master Hamfast inform you of the goings on in Hobbiton. Surely there is something I've forgotten to tell you." The lad followed obediently, leaving Bilbo behind for a few moments. He shook his head, laughing inside. Tweenagers, forgetting it's just fine to play. He bent over and picked up the abandoned stick and swung it about a few times.
"Bilbo? Are you going to join us?"
"Yes, yes, half a moment!" The old hobbit gave the stick one last swing, and did so with vigor. Willow or oak, he was certainly correct about 'whip', the old hobbit noted, after accidentally hitting himself in the face. He could hear laughter coming from the front lawn. "What, may I ask, is so funny?" He asked, rubbing the tender spot on his cheek.
"Well, I've been told there were queer folk in Hobbiton, but that was never mentioned before," Frodo replied, his head shaking with laughter. Bilbo followed his nephew's pointing finger to a bush in his yard that had seemed to grow legs. "What do we have here?" Frodo approached the bush and looked under, not surprised to find a curly brown head attached to the limbs. Two large, dark eyes stared back into his, wide with surprise.