This is just a really stupid poem of how Frodo's life might have been up until the death of his parents. I called it Dear Frodo because its sort of a letter to Frodo.

I don't own any characters they all belong to J.R.R Tolkien
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It was a warm September morning
When you were born
And upon your mothers face
A smile was worn

Your father looked upon you
Still smoking his pipe
And he said to your mother
"Primula what a beautiful sight!"

And over the years
You grew, but were still small
Your parents taught you to swim
They would catch you when you would fall

But one day they went
In a boat all alone
You chose to stay at Brandy Hall
But they never came home

You waited and waited
Everyone said things were fine
But you still watch the clock
As the time went by

Then a group of Hobbits came in
Laid your parents on the floor
You walked over to see them
A look of sadness everyone bore

The Hobbit lad said they had drown
After falling out of the boat
There was still a piece of seaweed
Wrapped around a button on your fathers waistcoat

Your mothers face
Was so subtle and fair
The both look like
They had fallen asleep there

Your aunt picked you up
And bore you away
You buried your face in her shoulder
And cried all that day

You were now all alone
Everything was wrong not right
You tore up their picture
In anger and spite

And when you woke up that morning
You looked down to the floor
Saw their ripped faces
And cried once more