Disclaimer: I believe everyone knows the drill. I don't own Middle-earth, nor any of the characters created by Tolkien. I do, however, claim several yet to come in this story, for Tolkien never mentioned such nor wrote about them. I hope he forgives me this.
A/N: This is the tale of what became of Frodo's parents. I hope you will forgive me the mistake of changing Frodo's age when his parents die. I did not catch the specific age until I was well into this fic and once caught I could not keep, for I would have had to do some major rewriting. Forgive me this if you will. Also, this story is not meant to be broken up into chapters but is going to be as such for the length and I understand the issue concerning attention spans. I'll break it up, serve it to you in bight-size pieces.
Being the First Part of . . . .
With The Rising and Setting of Anar
Frodo sat upon an old barrel. The wood was warped from constant exposure to the salt air--the hobbit was sure to sit particularly still. Yet he didn't mind, for the barrel was tall and the view beautiful. He could see for miles in every and all directions--as far as his sapphire eyes would allow (which was quite far, for hobbits have particularly sharp sight). The sea was as smooth as anything, reflecting the setting sun's rays in a sheen of gold that hurt the eyes if looked at straight on. The sky held naught in its blue depths but gulls and their insistent chatter. Frodo swung his legs, tapping his feet rhythmically against the side of the barrel as he let his mind soar with the birds. He watched them for a while, fascinated by the way the wind held them in the air, letting them ride on its currents just as easily as he road on the Elvish ship.
But soon his mind wandered and he found himself thinking of things that had happened not too long ago. If one had been watching, they would of noted the drastic change in his face. Frodo had never been especially good at hiding his emotions, especially when he thought none were watching, and any and all could see the shadowed darkness that descended upon his almost childlike features. His thoughts, one could almost guess, were walking along a dark path that eventually led to a most hated and feared mountain. A mountain that had held much significance to the one who sat upon the old barrel, which rested comfortably on an elegant Elvish ship.
In the still air, a throat was noisily cleared.
Frodo glanced up, his face flushing almost instantly, as though he feared he had been caught doing something wrong. "G-gandalf," Frodo gasped breathlessly.
The old wizard was looking at the hobbit closely and Frodo--unnerved by the intense scrutiny of the wizard--looked away. He watched as the sun began its descent past the horizon.
"A beautiful day," he whispered, not untruthfully.
Gandalf looked out upon the water and the setting sun, and nodded his head. "Quite beautiful. I don't believe I have ever seen one so spectacular."
"No," Frodo agreed, his face slowly returning to its normal shade as it became evident that Gandalf was not there to reprimand his thoughts. "It's as if everything becomes more beautiful the closer . . . the farther we go." His voice was tinged with regret and the wizard frowned.
"Yes," Gandalf said slowly, "It is most beautiful there . . . most beautiful," and Frodo could not be certain but it seemed there was a longing in the wizard's voice.
For many moments the two sat in silence. Slowly--when no conversation resumed--Frodo's sapphire eyes once again glazed over, and Gandalf knew that the small hobbit walked the shadowed paths of a horror-filled past. Evil was never far from Frodo's thoughts.
Gandalf shifted and his white robes rustled softly. "What do you remember of your parents, Frodo?" he asked suddenly and quite unexpectedly.
Frodo glanced up sharply and looked over at the wizard with hard, suspicious eyes. It was a rare person indeed who questioned his heritage, for all knew of that fateful night so long ago. He was an orphan; that was enough for most. Yet Gandalf's eyes swept the ocean's horizon (as if he sought something beyond its limits) and seemed hardly interested in the question he had just asked--less even in the answer the hobbit would give him.
Frodo's muscles relaxed as he realized the wizard had meant no harm by his question. He looked down at his hands and his eyes lost their focus as fog from distance memory assailed his mind. "I--I remember," he began haltingly, as if it had been along time since he had let this memory float to the surface. Gandalf looked sideways at Frodo but the hobbit didn't even notice--so enwrapped was he in the shadows of his childhood. He frowned, "They were crying . . . A gentlehobbit and lady. The lady . . . her hair . . . it was light, so very light . . . Almost like the sun. She was crying . . . sobbing . . . Her eyes--they were in the shadows . . . I cannot remember . . . But the gentlehobbit. His eyes I remember, for he was close. They were dark . . .almost brown, yet somehow darker. There was warmth there, though, and it made me feel safe. But they were crying," his eyes cleared of the fog and he looked up to see Gandalf studying him carefully. "They were crying, Gandalf. I didn't understand . . . I--I was too young. But it was as if they knew . . . as if they knew something was going to happen . . ." He paused, searched the wizard's face. But then his eyes fell. "But that's impossible."
He closed his eyes and sighed. "Ol' Saradoc--Merry's father--told me later what happened."
"What did he tell you?" Gandalf asked gently when the hobbit did not continue.
Frodo blinked, for his eyes were misting over. What is wrong with you? he demanded of himself angrily. You were five--not but a wee tot--there had been no emotional attachment . . . Frodo stood suddenly and hugged himself. "He told me my parents had drowned."
Frodo turned and slowly approached the ship's railing. "Their boat was found--overturned in the Branywine." His eyes fell upon the smooth, glittering sea.
Again silence flooded the deck.
"Frodo," Gandalf said at length and the hobbit glanced up. With the help of his staff, the wizard joined the small hobbit at the rail. "Let me tell you something . . . ."
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