[DISCLAIMER: I do not claim to own any 'Lord of the Rings' characters as they are all the property of the illustrious J.R.R. Tolkien and/or/including his estate. I am simply taking author's liberties in parodying said characters in the telling of the "real" story, from the point of mind-in-gutter individuals like myself, and letting them have their ways with each other. I'm sorry if this offends anyone (namely purists or heterosexuals who might find the content offensive). This story is book-canon, but the characters are movie-based (meaning the plot shall follow the books, while the characters are heavily based off the vibes received from the movies. Which are many.), and in sticking to canon as best I can, I shall try my best not to be flamed/MST'd/PPC'd. Once again I apologize to the purists.]

Once upon a ding-dong day, a young hoppit by the name of Bilbo (though some just called him Bill) stuck his nose outside his little round door to have a nice look at the weather. These hoppits, you see, are fond of particularly rainy weather, as it is good for mud wrestling. Today however, the weather was fine (as he figured it would be, since he had already looked out of all the windows, but wanted to be sure), but there was a strange sight when he looked down at his front step: A small baby, no more than a few days old, wrapped in a blue blanket.
"Ooh, silky!" he said, and started sucking his thumb, while playing with she satin bits on the edge of the blanket. As he was doing this, Bilbo cut his finger on a piece of paper that had been pinned to the blanket. "Ouch! Papercut!" He exclaimed, pulling the note off the baby, being careful not to prick him. The note read as follows:

"Dearest Bilbo,
I am sorry for leaving you all those years ago when you needed me the most. As it would turn out, I need you now: please take care of my baby, whom I have so lovingly wrapped with a bottle of your favourite cherry-flavoured bath oil, and the baby's operating instructions. I do not know when I will return, but you shall be his surrogate father until I do. Be sure he remembers from whence he came.
-Bill Ferny.
P.S. If Holman Cotton comes by, tell him I'm terribly sorry about all of this and let him know I have left him a pretty picture on his desk."

Bilbo sighed, and wiped away a tear. Then, collecting himself, he picked up the baby and held it close. When the baby no longer moved, he released it; and as it regained consciousness, Bilbo looked at him with loving eyes and declared, "Oogey doobey boogey boo! Who's your Dada? I am! Yes I am! Coochey coochey!" Looking him over, from his head full of already dark curls to, well, AHEM! ...his already hairy feet, he spoke once more: "I believe I shall call you Frodo. Don't ask me why, I didn't invent the language!" And with that, they turned and went into the house, and Bilbo (not forgetting his precious bath oil) remained a true father to Frodo all the days of his life.