Needless to say, it was a bit of a startle for Frodo Baggins when, upon waking in his new home for the first time, he discovered his windowpane had eyes.
Before he could do so much as sit up, however, the eyes disappeared with a startled gasp and a muffled thud. Frodo sat up quickly, puzzled and still a bit groggy, but when he reached the window the owner of the eyes was gone.
He sighed, running a hand absently through his wild dark curls. So he was already a spectacle here, even before he'd done so much as leave the hole in daylight. Great.
He stumbled blearily over to his dresser and stared into the large gilded mirror that stood atop the heavy oak drawers. Gazing back at him was a too-skinny, blue-eyed figure, narrow face framed by unruly curls so dark they were almost black, skin far too pale to be considered properly hobbit-like. He made a face at himself and stuck out his tongue before turning away with a sigh. He certainly was the stuff of rumors, he mused—a spectacle without even trying to be one. How he *wished* he had the same sturdy build of most other lads his age, the same sun-browned tan and the same golden-brown curls. At least in Buckland, he'd managed to blend in to the chaos of Brandy Hall without too much difficulty. They were used to him there, and didn't so mind his…*abnormalities.* And most there were, while not as downright skinny as he, of a more slender build than hobbits elsewhere in the Shire. A few even had his same wild dark curls. But only his mother had shared his startling cerulean blues, and she…well…
Frodo closed his eyes and pushed the thought roughly away. It wouldn't do any good to start thinking about his parents here, not when he was already so far away from everything dear and familiar.
Changing quickly into a fresh shirt, he was soon padding down the long hallways of Bag End, trying to remember which way it was to the kitchen. The winding corridors were a bit mind boggling, though, and after taking a few wrong turns, he found himself standing just outside the parlor. Frowning and wiping his eyes, absently wondering how he'd managed to get there, it was a moment before the sounds of voices properly registered.
He snapped his head up, brow furrowed in confusion. What…?
After a moment of strained listening he was able to pinpoint the source of the voices: drifting in through the large parlor windows, carried on a faint morning breeze.
Frowning slightly, Frodo walked forward, carefully making sure to keep quiet so as not to draw any unnecessary attention to himself. That was certainly the last thing he needed…
After blinking several times to adjust his eyes to the light, he realized he was looking out at Bag End's rows of hedges that stood along the side of the smial. Two figures were bent over them, rolling out twine and carefully trimming the overgrowth. Frodo was surprised—one of them was no more than a child. Bilbo had told him to expect the gardener—what was his name? Hamstead?—in the morning, but Frodo was unsure what to make of the little one. After watching them for a few moments, however, he was able to guess they were related—father and son, most likely—by their striking similarities in both appearance and demeanor.
Frodo watched them work, hearing only snippets of conversation. The gardener—Hamfast, Frodo remembered suddenly—was showing his son how to trim the hedges properly, and much to Frodo's amusement, the lad was taking his task quite seriously indeed. It suddenly occurred to him that this lad was probably the one who'd been watching him this morning, as Frodo was now watching the lad. And suddenly, as he stood gazing at the pair, he found he didn't even mind being the object of curiosity anymore. Not to people such as this. Frodo found he immediately liked them, even though he didn't really know the first thing about them. It was something in the way they were so carefully tending the hedge, treating it as though it were every bit as valuable as the most rare of plants and not just as the hedge it was. There was a feeling of gentle, meticulous care radiating from them both that immediately settled in Frodo's mind as something to be sought out and appreciated.
He was so intent on his observation of the two that he didn't even hear Bilbo enter the room.
"Enjoying yourself, there, Frodo?"
Frodo jumped and spun around, startled. Seeing Bilbo standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed and a look of amusement on his face, made Frodo blush. He felt as though he were a child who'd been caught doing something wrong.
"I…uh…I just got lost on the way to the kitchen," he stammered, dropping his gaze abashedly.
Bilbo laughed. "And you thought watching Master Gamgee at work on the hedge might inspire within you a sense of direction?"
Frodo felt the blush creeping up to the tip of his ears, though he couldn't help but grin. "Well…no. But I was just curious."
Bilbo nodded. "As I'm sure he is about you, but really, Frodo, do you think it's necessary to *spy*? As if you were still a shy teenager. Why didn't you just go say hello?"
Frodo shrugged helplessly. "Well…they looked busy, I didn't want to interrupt."
Bilbo opened his mouth to speak, but then raised his eyebrows at Frodo. "They?" He walked forward without waiting for Frodo's response and peered out the window. "Ah! Hamfast has brought along little Samwise, I see!" He smiled at the sight.
Frodo nodded. "I think he was watching me this morning," he said. "When I woke up there was a pair of eyes at my window."
Bilbo laughed, turning away from the window. "'Twouldn't surprise me at all. Sam's a dear fellow, but bless him, he's probably the most curious little thing I've ever met, aside from you."
Frodo grinned and ducked his head.
Bilbo began to walk towards the doorway, and Frodo followed. "Why don't we see to breakfast, then I'll take you out and introduce you? Hamfast has some sons about your age, I believe…perhaps he'll be willing to introduce you to them later."
Frodo nodded, but in truth he would have felt more comfortable staying with Bilbo than trying to play with lads his own age. They were usually so much *bigger* than him—more than once he'd gotten hurt while 'playing' with his older cousins. Nothing serious, and nothing intentional, but still…Frodo sighed to himself, again cursing his slight build and his inability to put on weight.
Bilbo heard the small sound glanced over his shoulder at his nephew. "Now, no need for that, Frodo lad," he said. "I'll not have you hiding up here all the hours of the day. You need to get a feel for Hobbiton, and the only way to do that is to go out in it. Don't worry," his voice grew gentler, "most of the folk around here aren't really all that bad, once you get to know them a bit."
Frodo nodded again as they rounded one last corner and the corridor opened itself up into Bag End's generous kitchen.
"Ah! Some of the crop's come in!" Bilbo exclaimed, bustling over to a pile of freshly picked produce. "Hamfast must've pulled these last night, bless the dear fellow. Frodo! What do you say to a bit of fried tomato and bacon? Eh?"
Frodo nodded, feeling his stomach beginning to grumble at the mention of food. Bilbo set about to cooking and within a few minutes, they sat in the silence reserved only for meal tables as they enjoyed first breakfast together.
Only after they'd eaten their fill did Bilbo speak again.
"I'll be going into town later today, to pick up a few things at the market," Bilbo said around as he nibbled on a bit of bacon still on his plate. "I can take you with me, if you'd like, but I imagine you'd probably rather stay here and get a feel for the area around Bag End."
Frodo nodded, grateful. He didn't feel like going to market yet, not while he was still such a novelty. Let the folk around here get used to the idea of him first, before he went and made himself the object of public gawking.
Bilbo nodded once. "Fine. I'll need to be going soon, but first let's get you introduced to Hamfast and Samwise, at least." Seeing the look on Frodo's face, he added thoughtfully, "Hamfast might even let Samwise join you in a bit of exploration later, if you ask him. Someone ought to see to it you don't get lost."
Frodo grinned sheepishly. Bilbo's unspoken reference to his getting lost on the way from the bedroom to the kitchen was clear enough.
They stood, clearing what there was of the dishes quickly. "Come on, then," Bilbo said, and led the way out into Bag End's gardens.
* * *