Disclaimer: hah! Do I look intelligent enough to own these people?

A/N: Thanks again everyone for reviews!!! :) I just wanted to inform you all that the chapters when Frodo is 12 are a prelude, not a flashback. I just want to avoid some later confusion that may arise. You shan't have to wait much longer for the good stuff, just sit tight! *gives you all a cookie and a pat* On with the show! And judging by reviews, most of you can see where this is going, so Lindsey (*speaking 3rd person*) will try and change the plot for your future enjoyment. :) Please forgive my terrible grammar skills, I don't want to imagine how unintelligent it makes me look. LOL :S
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Chapter 3-Storms

"...and THAT my lad, is how we escaped the lair of the Even King!" Bilbo was busy trying to entertain the seemingly restless Frodo. It was about 10.00 at night, and his parents had not returned. But Bilbo's gift of story telling seemed to be having it's toll on the little lad, as he let out a large yawn. Bilbo laughed. "Tired already, I can tell."

"No, no Uncle Bilbo! Please don't stop, I want to hear-" he was cut off by some more yawning "-some more."

"Now, now Frodo" said Bilbo with a smile. "It's late and you need to be off in bed. What would your mother say, should I have you up into all hours of the night? Come on now." he stood up, and offered a hand to little Frodo; who gladly accepted.

"Uncle Bilbo?"

"Yes lad?"

"Will you..." he seemed to blush, "Will you tuck me in?"

Bilbo smiled at the young boys innocense. "Why, of course I will." Frodo let out another yawn and began to waver. Without a word, Bilbo gently took him up into his arms, as a mother holds her baby, and brought him to his room. He nestled the small hobbit into the covers, and gently landed a light kiss on his brow. "Good night, Frodo." He smiled and quietly went out the door.
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"Come on...you...blasted...ack!" There was a loud thump as Drogo Baggins landed bum-first into the small wooden boat he had gotten for him and his wife, Primula's, anniversary "outing". The rope that held the boat to the dock seemed to be in an extremely obstinate knot.

Primula couldn't help but laugh as she carefully climbed in as well. "Oh, Drogo, do be careful! I don't want to have to carry you in because you've a bruised bum!"

Drogo nodded, rubbing his bum, and then looking up as he gently took an oar and pushed off the dock into the calmly flowing river. After letting the boat float out for sometime, he turned to his wife. He was almost taken aback by the radiant blast of beauty that was bestowed upon her. He took her into his arms, and laid a soft kiss upon her lips. She returned this action.

They spent hours upon hours in that boat. Just floating along, and enjoying each other's company. Around 8.00 (pm, FYI), Primula sat up.

"Drogo? Where are we?" she asked, looking at their surroundings. Things had become a tad bit...odd looking. There was much more thorns, brambles, and weeds clouding the banks of the river, and the water was dark and a murky brown. Drogo sat up as well, this coming to his attention.

"Don't worry, Prim. We probably just floated a bit far down the river. We'll just be a few hours late arriving home, that's all. But we should be heading back now. I don't want Bilbo fretting..." he grabbed an oar, and turned the boat around. To his dismay, he saw thickets of dark storm clouds--or what he could make of clouds in the twilightish sky--coming from the direction they were heading. If he wanted to escape the powers of the storm, he'd have to move quickly. He dipped the oar into the water, and began to row, when a sudden loud clap of thunder frightened him, causing him to drop the oar.

Luckily, the water was still relatively calm, and the oar was afloat. Primula gasped and sighed, recovering from this as well. Drogo sighed too, and reached for the oar that was afloat in the water. All of a sudden, he let out a terrible howl of pain.

"Drogo!" yelled Primula. "Drogo, what happened? Are you alright!?" She carefully crawled to the other side of the boat where her husband lay, clutching his hand. "Drogo?" she asked in a softer tone.

Drogo sat hunched over, still clutching his hand. "Please, Drogo, let me see..." she gently grabbed his wrist, and drew his hand into the open where she could see. Drogo had received quite a nasty snake-bite in the hand. "Oh no...Drogo!" She looked at her husband, who was slightly dazed, but still conscious. She looked back down at his hand, and horror came into her mind. Those weren't teeth marks of a snake (a/n: God, I'm stupid. Do snakes even have teeth?)--but the fangs of one. Fangs only meant one thing to her: venom. "Oh no, Drogo. Drogo, listen to me, I'm going to take us back to Brandy Hall, alright?" She received a light nod from her husband. "Good. Yes, I'm going to take us back and we're going to have your hand fixed up. You'll be fine, Drogo, fine, I promise." She tried to hold back her tears.

Primula grabbed the oar and began to row as fast as she could back to Brandy Hall. Some twenty minutes later, some familiar sites began to come back into vision. She felt a bit relieved, but still had a ways to go. And just with her luck, the raindrops began to fall. Not light, but heaving and stinging. Drogo began to groan, the wetness and coldness making him feel more miserable, not to mention that with every heartbeat, the venom went more through his body. Primula finally let her silent tears loose. She made sure they were kept silent, as she did not want to upset Drogo. But she was slowly losing hope. Her thoughts were broken as the river was starting to become disturbed by the storm. Water lapped up and over the rim of the boat, making it hard for her to control it by herself.

She knew it was over, there was no way she could go on. But she had to try. There was only one thought left that made her keep on trying. Her little son, Frodo. She couldn't give up and just leave Frodo. She began to think about how much she loved him, and how much he meant to her. She knew he was different from the other lads; but that never even crossed her mind. In fact, she loved him even more for it. Tears ran quicker down her cheeks as she tried to bear the thought of the those beautiful blue eyes of her little boy filled with tears. Who deserved such a loss at a young age like that? And before she could do anymore about it, a violent gust of wind knocked the oar straight out of her hand. It was over.

She knelt down by Drogo and whispered in his ear: "Drogo Baggins, I love you...I love you." She buried her eyes in the cavern between his shoulder and neck. There was no pulse. He was dead. She sobbed loudly, but knew it was her turn next. "I love you.." she repeated, and laid down next to him, folding her arms around him. The next gust of wind was an extremely violent one, and it sent a large wave crashing over the side of the boat. Primula looked at the sky "I love you Frodo, my son, always and forever. Do not forget me, as I will be with you, always..." and with those words, the boat was overturned by another harsh gust, and she and her husband were cast into the water.
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A/N: Pretty pathetic, as I am crying. *gives out tissues to anyone else who may be* Fwodo! ;_; More to come, just keep on reading, we'll get there...soon...enough...*passes out*