30th October, 1388 SR
Two problems, TWO, turned up today. One, Frodo sent me a letter.
"Dear Bilbo," it read, "Thank you for the gifts. I especially like the box of fireworks. We had a great time setting them up, and they made the Brandywine look as if it were a river of many-colored gems. Thank the Dwarves for me, they are really most kind to make that beautiful belt with the jeweled buckle, and the pocket knife to go with it. How did they know my size? You should see me wear them. I look positively splendid. I was the envy of all the Brandybucks, especially the little ones. Little Merry (Meriadoc, son of cousin Saradoc) was willing to trade all his hoard of candied plum and dried apples for the belt.
But the present I enjoyed the most is your letters, Bilbo. I read them many times until I'm afraid the ink will rub off and the writings fade. You always have such interesting stories of the people outside The Shire. I wish life here were as full of adventures as yours. It becomes tedious and boring sometimes. I am not complaining. Everybody is very kind and I love them dearly. But I wish, sometimes, that I could go on adventures, too, like you, and come back with wonderful songs to sing and stories to tell. No one understands how I want to go out and see the world. They say that to wish to venture outside The Shire is foolish and reckless. I wish they did not say that, because I think you are neither foolish nor reckless. I think you are very brave and clever, and I wish, more often now than before, that I can be like you.
You write so seldom now, dear Bilbo, and you never visit. It has been nearly four years since you last came to Brandy Hall. Is something the matter? I hope you're always in the best of health, but I can't help worrying. I wish I could come and visit you. I've never been outside Buckland before. I miss speaking in Elvish with you, Bilbo. I miss your merry and beautiful songs. I really appreciate the gifts, but if you had given me nothing, and have come instead, I would have been so much, so much happier.
Love,
Frodo Baggins"
I know it is weak of me. But I wept every time I read the letter and I've read it dozens of time since it arrived this morning. Little Samwise Gamgee caught me blubbering when he came bringing in the potatoes. He asked what was the matter, but I said nothing. He went out, and a while later Master Hamfast came in, brewed me some tea and patted me on the back. Then he sat in front of me and very patiently told me something that he had picked up in The Ivy Bush. He said that "some people" had been especially happy on my last birthday, which is the 98th. He did not have to mention the names, I know who they are. I know they simply can't wait for me to plop down and die. And now that I am nearly a hundred, it seems that they think they don't have to wait much longer. Master Hamfast told me that I still look hale and strong, but if I keep breaking down, the way I did today with Frodo's letter, people will start to talk behind my back, about how I had become senile and witless. That was problem number two. I was strongly reminded that to keep Bag End from Lobelia's greedy hands, I have to get myself an heir.
Meant to write a reply for Frodo, but can't think up excuses as to why I seldom write and never visit. Maybe I am becoming senile and witless.