The next morning Frodo awoke to a grey sky, which he had thought would be more suitable to his mood, but it wasn't. Perhaps if everything was blank, all white, perhaps then it would match how I feel, he supposed as he pulled a wrinkled shirt out of a trunk and then over his head. He had packed hastily, leaving behind the small smial he has shared with his parents and being moved to the crowded Brandy Hall immediately. His uncle had returned later with a few of his other things and set them around the small room Frodo shared with two cousins, but it did nothing to make it feel like home, and Frodo had hidden them under some trousers in his trunk. The two mussed beds next to his promised privacy, at least for a little while, as the hobbit children had their breakfast. He leaned down and pawed through the clothes, retrieving the precious items.

He layed them out on the wooden floor, just so he could look at them again. A carved wooden box that had served as his mother's jewelry box held his mother's locket, a curl of hair snipped from both her husband and her son.

"See, Frodo, this way I always have you close to my heart," she had said, putting the locket on her delicate throat. His father had a pin that was quite similar, holding a lock of light brown hair nestled around a darker, smaller one. A few books that had been housed in the smial's small library and other minor trinkets were strewn around him, but he held the pin and locket close to his chest. These should go to Aunt Esme, he thought, but held them tighter. Waves of an dull, aching pain ran through him, but his eyes remained steady and unwavering.

"Frodo?" A soft knock accompanied the voice. Frodo gathered his things quickly and threw them in the trunk, but put the jewelry in his trouser pocket. The door opened and Bilbo's head appeared. "Frodo? I was thought you might be hungry, so I saved something from those voraciously hungry cousins of yours." He carried a small tray, laden with toast, butter, a jar of jam and a cup of tea. Frodo nodded his thanks and accepted the tray, though he didn't feel like eating. As he sat down and with the meal, the locket slipped out of his pocket.

"Hmm, what do we have here?" Bilbo asked, leaning over to scoop it up. When Frodo realized what had happened, his eyes glazed over with fear. He didn't want to give up the locket. "Ah, I remember this. Well, now, you had better put it on so you don't drop it like that again. Ah, look! This pin is small, it will fit in the locket. Come here, lad, I'll help you with this small clasp." After Frodo had tucked the locket into his shirt, Bilbo clutched his own precious thing, also hanging on a chain and hidden under his clothes.



With a little coaxing, Bilbo managed to get Frodo out of his room and to the main dining area of the hall, which was even busier than usual, with the bad weather keeping young hobbits inside. Many of the older hobbits had decided to avoid going outside as well, for it seemed a storm was well on it's way. The wind whipped the thin trees against Brandy Hall's small windows, and soon rain blurred all vision of the outside world. Frodo felt trapped. He eventually wandered away from Bilbo, walking through the winding halls of the large smial, but he couldn't escape the sympathetic eyes that followed him everywhere, often accompanied with kind words or stories of his parents. He didn't want to think, and he didn't want to remember, and he didn't want anyone's words. He knew they meant well, but being reminded of what had happened only let pain in, and all he wanted was that deadened feeling, the endless white. He couldn't even retreat to his room, for it had become a place for some of his younger cousins to make forts and shriek at the occasional claps of thunder. He found a little used exit and grabbed a cloak that hung on the peg posted near the door. It was far too large for him, and probably belonged to his uncle Saradoc, but it was warm and would hopefully keep out the rain. Frodo looked behind him to make sure no one saw, and slipped outside to have only the sad sky for company.

"Bilbo? Bilbo, oh, there you are!" Esmeralda caming running when she saw the hobbit, a look of panic in her eyes.

"What is it, Esme? What happened?" Bilbo saw that she was scared, but hoped she wouldn't cause mass hysteria over something small. She was still ridden with grief of the loss of her sister.

"Frodo...he...No one has seen him for over an hour, and the storm is getting worse! We're afraid he may have left the hall. We had hoped he was with you, or that you at least knew where he was."

"No, I haven't seen him for nearly two hours, now. Are you sure no one has seen him?" She nodded, eyes brimming with tears once again. "No, no, don't cry. You need to help me, Esme, do you understand?" He said firmly, talking to her as if she were a young hobbit lass that needed instructions. She nodded again. "I need you to help me gather hobbits to begin a search party. Be discreet about it, and don't frighten the younger ones." She nodded again and left with a purpose. Bilbo closed his eyes for a moment and pressed his fingers to his temples, praying to Eru that Frodo's grief wouldn't lead him to the river.

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Author's Note: I'm sorry about the premature update, but it had to be done, because I screwed something up. It's kind of complicated, so I won't explain.