When we last left Bilbo and his surrogate son, Bill Ferny had fled somewhere into the wild, presumably to have an erotic affair with a can of lightly syrupped peaches. We now take you to about 30 years later, when Bilbo is becoming a little old and gray, and Frodo is in the last years of his childhood. Little did they know that their lives were about to change forever. We now return you to part two of 'The Real Tale of Bilbo And Frodo Baggins And Their Many Splendiferous Adventures', in which Bilbo discovers something odd both around the hole, and about his son.

*****



"I believe you're gay!" hollered Bilbo, chasing after Frodo as he dashed around the hole, trying to get away from his father. Lately, Bilbo had been acting strangely and mumbling to himself about some "precious". Frodo figured it had to be the dwarf he was currently seeing, but although he had read up a great deal on dwarvish customs (and elvish as well, including the book 'The Story of Beren and Luthien and All of Luthien's Naughty and Beautiful Cousins; Illustrated Edition*') he could not find anything about a so-called "precious". Also of late, the old hobbit had been insisting to Frodo to call him uncle. This seemed rather strange to the poor lad, who still had his teenage hormones, as Bilbo was the only father he presumed he had.

"I'm not gay!" He shouted back, running into his room and diving under the bed. "Ooh! A muffin!" His uncle came running in.
"Really, dear Frodo, I assure you, it's perfectly natural for a boy of your age to be -- AHEM! -- rather confused. I'll admit, when I wasn't but 27 I had a rather scandalous encounter with one of the Brandybucks, back in my quiet days."

Bilbo's quiet days were now over. For the past 20 or so years, Bilbo had been sneaking off with various wizards, dwarves and the like. Frodo assumed it had something to do with pipe weed and Dwarves' hairy buttocks, as he always stayed away long, and came back with nothing that he had originally left with, seeming a bit worn down. But he got paid handsomely for, well, whatever it was that he did. He had brought back mountains of treasure, and spent the next day tagging every item with "Property of B. Baggins" labels and burying everything under the house. But he didn't really want to think about it. His uncle claimed it was a "daring adventure", filled with trolls, goblins, eagles and the slaying of a great dragon. But late at night, Frodo had heard him and his seemingly favourite escort wizard, a Gandalf something-or-other, discussing what the lad discerned as "orgy". Or maybe it was "ogre". He didn't hear too much of Bilbo, over Gandalf's insanely loud rambles.

"Umm, yes, well, if it's all the same, Fa-- I mean, Uncle Bilbo, I think I shall go to sleep now." Frodo pulled himself out from under the bed and went to his wardrobe, pulling out his frilly flannel nightie. The one he saved for especially chilly nights like this one was shaping up to be.

"Alright then my boy," Bilbo said, leaving his room. He stopped and poked his head back in. "But if I catch you with that Gamgee boy, I swear I'll--"

"Bilbo!!!"

"Alright, alright... I just think you could do better, is all. Good night, Frodo."

Light disappeared as Bilbo blew out various lamps and candles through the hole. He heard dishes clattering in the kitchen, a sign that Bilbo was getting his just-before-midnight snack, and possibly his midnight one as well just to save himself a trip, and then heard his bed frame groan as he got into it.

"Silly tart'll get crumbs all over the sheets again," thought Frodo. Then he took out a piece of parchment from the chest by his bed and a quill, and, making sure his uncle was asleep, started to write:

"Dearest Sam,
This can't go on forever; Uncle Bilbo knows about us! We must run away, Sam, together without anyone following us. We'll head for the East, maybe stay with the Elves or something: Bilbo has 'acquaintances' there who I'm sure would be glad to have us. And haven't you always wanted to kiss an elf? But we must be discreet, and none of this leaving after dark business; plain daylight will seem more normal. We shall go on a hike. Meet me around the side of Bag End tomorrow past noon: we shall leave then.

Kisses,
Your Frodo."

Silently, Frodo snuck down the hill, slipped the note through Sam's window and, falling once or twice up the hill on his way home, crept back into the house through the front door. Bilbo was none the wiser.

[*NOTE: Said storybook belongs to the almighty Lemonlye, author of the "All-Slash, All-The-Time" version of FotR. All hail Lemonlye.]