A/N: I was in such a good mood today, due mainly to the weather, that I had to write this. I'm telling you; it's greener than the Shire here!

Going out Your Door is a Dangerous Business

Frodo was tired. Tired of being alone. He knew that he had Sam during the day but he couldn't really call that company, Sam didn't stop work long enough to have a really good conversation, not like he could have had with Bilbo. And during the night, he couldn't get used to that level of loneliness. He never thought his life would ever change more than when he moved from the bustling corridors of Brandy Hall to the quiet and peaceful corridors of Bag End. But now they were too quiet, too peaceful, he couldn't stand it any more.

He had decided to leave.

This morning, he would follow Bilbo, wherever it was he'd gone. He didn't care what Gandalf had said, he was going.

He had his bag packed and had written a letter to everyone he was leaving behind. He had put it in the desk in his study so that it wouldn't be found right away. He had sorted everything out, well, perhaps not everything, but enough.

So there he was, bag on his back, standing at the end of the garden path, about to take his first step on a journey of un-guessed length.

"Mr. Frodo!" Frodo faltered, "Are you going for a walk? How long will you be gone? Should I leave the fires burning tonight?" Frodo turned, a false smile plastered on his face.

"No, I don't think I'll be back tonight, I was planning on going a bit further than usual today." He turned and tried to leave before Sam could say anything else.

"Right then sir, just make sure you don't go gallivanting off like Mr. Bilbo. Don't think I could imagine Bag End empty..." O why did he have to say that? It was already hard enough leaving. He smiled again and waved a hand as he walked as quickly as possible out of sight.

He walked a little longer down the road, greeting the few people he met. A couple walking their dog, a mother walking her children, a person just walking. It wasn't long before all Frodo's troubles tumbled down into his feet and fell out onto the road. Frodo was free to enjoy the clean air of early summer washed by the spring rain.

A fresh breeze was on his face, mingling with the warmth of the sun and keeping a positively perfect temperature. It was the warmest morning he could remember so far this year and he took the deepest breaths he could, if there was ever a place he loved, it was the Shire. The trees' leaves were a light green, just newly sprung from their buds among the fading blossom. The grass was tall either side of the road as he left inhabited areas and the cow parsley was in full bloom, nearly as tall as he was.

He looked out across the fields through a gap in the hedge. A partridge darted out of his sight to the safety of the hedge while the larger and much slower pheasants pecked at the ground a little further off. A baby rabbit hopped past, oblivious to its spectator, nibbling here and there on the lush green grass. Frodo smiled and moved on, startling the young rabbit to dash madly away from him.

The hedgerows, while in winter fierce and un-welcoming had now burst into a green to match that of the rest of the scenery. They held promise of blackberries for the autumn when the brambles relented for once in the year and welcomed young lads and lasses to come close and take their fruit. But, Frodo realised with a jolt, if he was to go on with his plan then he wouldn't be around to see the children returning with full baskets to their homes, their faces and fingers stained with the juice of over-ripe and messily-eaten berries.

The troubles came back to him as though they had never left him and were all the while hanging just above his head. The vision of young faces, grubby, but happy brought to mind his own young cousin. He was only eleven but already he was firmly buried in Frodo's heart. He remembered Pippin's face when he'd been told that Bilbo wouldn't be coming back, Pippin wasn't used to losing what he loved, did Frodo really want to be responsible for causing him more pain? Not that Pippin didn't cause him pain from time to time but he wouldn't be Pippin if he didn't!

From Pippin his mind moved inexorably to Merry, so helpful, so organised and still the little lad he remembered from his time at Brandy Hall. He had grown in so many ways but was still able to make Frodo smile by just saying the most ridiculous things. Of course, Pippin's ridiculous-ness now rivalled his and together they could cheer Frodo up to no end.

No doubt they would be able to persuade Frodo that following Bilbo wasn't the best idea in the world and he was no longer sure if they would be too wrong. He glanced up at a woodpecker making its undulating way across the sky and it dropped onto an old gnarled tree. It sat for a moment, completely sure of its camouflage, proudly showing its green back to Frodo and then began to peck. A pair of sparrows flicked out of their perch in the tree and flitted across the road, twirling about each other as they went.

Frodo continued on, his worries weighing down upon his back. What of Fatty? What would he say? No doubt he would agree with Merry and Pippin and, in his own way (most likely a drink at the Green Dragon) persuade Frodo not to go. While not as adventurous as the other two, he was braver and more determined than he cared to show or realise and Frodo hoped that one day he would realise it. He could help Fatty realise it if he stayed.

A moorhen ran out in front of Frodo from an unseen pond behind the wall of leaves that was the hedge, its tail flicking up with each step. Frodo walked to the edge of the road, to a small gap in the hedge that he always checked in on whenever he passed. He peered in through the leaves and saw what he was looking for right away. Three small blackbirds, though they were hardly black yet, sat quietly waiting for a parent to return so they could pester it for food. Pestering for food. That reminded him of Pippin. Wherever he was going he wasn't going to have Pippin along with him to look half-starved and get them free meals. No one of any age could pull that one off as well as Pippin could. Frodo smiled fondly as he thought of Pippin and all his other friends. The friends he'd be leaving behind. His smile faded.

Not just his friends either, what of the Gamgees? Certainly he'd left them plenty for their troubles but he doubted anything he could leave them would make up for having Sackville-Bagginses as neighbours. The S-Bs! He blanched just imagining what Bilbo would say if ever he found him. All that time and trouble spent keeping Bag End out of the S-Bs hands and what did Frodo do? Wander off at the first sign of hardship and leave the hole at their mercy. Frodo turned away from that train of thought, it wasn't a nice one to say the least.

Why was he leaving? He didn't want to leave. What were a few lonely nights when during the day he had the devoted care and attention of the Gamgees? What were a few lonely nights when he had the best friends anyone could ever wish for staying over and visiting often enough to be living with him? Why did he want to leave the homeliness of the Shire; its babbling brooks, ivy-covered oaks and cow-specked meadows? He didn't! He didn't want to go out into the wild! He didn't want-

"O, hello Mr. Frodo, I wasn't expecting you back so soon. Sam said you'd be gone for the night." Frodo stared at Hamfast before smiling wanly and then declaring,

"I had a change of plan." Frodo walked back up the path to the round green door of Bag End, the same path that he thought he'd walked down for the last time only a few hours before. Apparently while his head had been muddling through everything, his feet had taken charge and marched him right back to where he belonged. He shouldn't follow Bilbo. Not yet.

Now he was back, first things first, burn that letter!

Fin