Sorry that I haven't updated in a while, guys. :( Writers Block can be a bitch. Needless to say I think I'm on a roll again. But I did however come on here and read a bunch of stuff. =D If you want a really really good Frodo story, then read Emyn Muil by ainur. ^_^ I keep forgetting, but if any of you people feel the need to yell at me in person for screwing something up, my aim s/n is ejwlrh1028 ^_^ I hope you all had a nice holiday. :) Forth Eorlingas! Just a note: Yes I am aware of how Gandalf gives Frodo the Ring after Bilbo's disappearance etc. etc., but however, I'm not going to include it in my story; though bits and pieces of it will be in here (maybe not -this- chapter) because this -is- Lord of the Rings. -sigh- Long day people...don't feel like beta-reading. Shoot me why don't ya? j/p ^_^ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 9 - Partings

Frodo did not die as soon as he had wished. In fact, he continued his way of life with himself and Bilbo for many years. But even as he thought he was "healing" (in his own way and words), the eventful evening of September 22 sent his life sprialing downward once again. For it was the birthday that he and Bilbo shared. Bilbo turning one hudred and eleven (eleventy one, as Hobbits say) and Frodo's coming-of-age. ---------

Frodo stretched his arms; the warm patch of dawn slowly taking his features as he woke up. The smell of bacon and eggs filled his room and soon enough he was dressed and scuttling down the corridor to the kitchen.

"Well, day to you Frodo my lad! Or rather, morning to you."

"Hullo Bilbo," replied Frodo, sitting down in a chair. He smiled, "I was awakened by some horrid stench coming from the kitchen and thought it might be your cooking. I came to see if you need any help ridding the house of the foul substance." He joked. They both laughed.

"Of course Frodo! I wouldn't dream 'ridding the house of the foul substance' without your help!," Bilbo jested back. He brought two plates of bacon and eggs to the table.

"So, Frodo, have you everything ready for tonight?" Bilbo asked, his voice filled with sly excitment.

"Yes, Uncle Bilbo, everything is ready," Frodo aswered half- earnestly. He tried desperately to remember if he had everything in order, "Yes, I believe so."

"Ah, that is good then. It's going to be a long night, so steady yourself!" Bilbo laughed.

Frodo chuckled to himself, and it seemed to him that there was something...well...peculiar in Bilbo's tone of voice; as if he was hiding something.

It was at that moment that Bilbo sat up, putting his hand in his pocket and fiddling around with something. Frodo stared for a moment, but was distracted by Bilbo's words. "Well, lad, if you will pardon me, there are some things of my own affairs that I need--that I need to take care off." And with that, Bilbo set off to lock himself up in his study. Frodo's suspicion became heavier. ---------

"Oh, alright, come now! Bilbo Baggins what have you forgotten?" Bilbo questioned himself from the inside security of his study. "No," he mumbled, "no, you haven't forgotten anything, bless your old soul!" he chucked, placing his hand in his trouser pocket. He froze before he madly began to finger around. "Where?? Where is it!?" Frantically he began to open and close drawers from the desk nearby, papers flying around everywhere. "I don't understand...I-I just had it!" A change in his voice. He sounded...angry; not himself almost. Some sudden impulse sent his hand into his vest pocket, where he stopped his search and sighed in relief. "Now then..." he continued on throughout most of the day and afternoon in his study, fixing up papers and preparing some things of his own. ---------

It was not long, so it seemed, that the long-awaited party of the year arrived. Almost the whole of Hobbiton was lite up in a brilliant array of blues and greens; Gandalf's fireworks, of course. And what would a hobbit party be without food and drink! Bilbo had called together what seemed like all the chefs in the four farthings. There was plenty to eat, and more than plenty to drink.

The night continued on full of bliss and merrymaking; even our poor Frodo found himself in rather good company; having his own full share of dancing and singing and what not. Merry and Pippin, of course, had attended as well:

"Go, Pippin, hurry up!" said an anxious Merry.

"I'm going, just wait a moment, we have to wait till he's far enough away from the cart..." replied Pippin, who in turn received an eager shove from his cousin.

'Which one?' he thought, sifting fireworks around by the armloads. 'Aha!, this'll do nicely.' he said, pulling out a rather large, dragon-shaped one.

After a rather puzzling time; the two had managed to send a fury of frighting fireworks swooping about all the guest; scaring half of them to death. Gandalf, of course, had not been far behind (so to speak) and the hobbits paid dearly for their mischief. For they ended up with dish-duty for every...single...hobbit at the party.

Let me assure you, they were occupied for quiet a while.

The Speech - or perhaps the most dreaded part of a party/gathering. However; the guest at Bilbo's party had had their share of food (for the time) and were pretty much willing to sit through and listen to whatever rhyme or snippet of poetry Bilbo was going to throw at them.

((A/N: please don't mind...I'm cutting the Speech short x_x))

"My dear hobbits! I have called you here tonight for a purpose." A stunned look took the crowd; which Bilbo had trouble not laughing at. He continued, "I'm not going to bore you with works of literature that you probably couldn't comprehend, nor make you listen to works of my own. I have only now to tell you that I am leaving - for good." He side-glanced sadly at his cousin (or nephew rather) Frodo - whose face had already changed from an expression of merriment to an expression of wistful shock. "Goodbye" and with that, he vanished.

This escapade certainly didn't bode well. Everyone there stared at where Bilbo had once stood - especially Frodo. Then at once the silence seemed to be shattered by an explosion of angry guest, questioning this, that and the other. Frodo didn't seem to hear any of it - that is until he felt a light hand on his shoulder.

"Mr. Frodo?" It was Sam.

Frodo stood up, determined to not let Sam see how bitter he was feeling. "Oh, hullo Sam. Have you enjoyed yourself so far?" he shot a side-glance at Rosie Cotton, who, with her family, was just recovering from the "shock". He returned his gaze to

Sam, half-smirking. Sam blushed and shuffled his feet. He looked up at Frodo and seemed to see right through his "mask".

"Mr. Frodo, listen--" he was cut short. One of the hobbits who seemed to have had a bit much as was good for him grabbed Frodo drunkenly by the shoulder.

"HOOOOOY THERE FRODO!" he laughed. "You've quite an uncle ther'! I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it myself! You can't believe a lot when people round ya are drunk as uh........." he mumbled and hiccuped.

"Yes, Bosco, I'm sure," replied an uneasy Frodo.

"Aaaaaaaaaaanyway laddie, I was just gonna be sayin that the people are rather...impatient right now and we want you to pass out sommore wine. Could you do that? That's a lad!" he patted Frodo on the shoulder, and trotted off in a zig-zag pattern.

Frodo sighed, and turned around to have more wine passed out; discovering that Sam was still looking at him with a worried expression on his face. "Mr. Fro-" he began, but was cut off again by Frodo's pale hand resting on his shoulder. "I know, Sam, I'll be alright. Just enjoy yourself for the remainder of the night, all right?" Frodo replied softly, a kindly smile on his face as he ventured off into the anxious crowd.

The crowd seemed quite content after Frodo had sent out the wine; he finding this a good time to head back to Bag End. It was not long before he was back in his own smial, but instead of finding solace from the racket there, he only found utter silence and lonliness.