October 7, 1422
Chapter 2
Harrumph, typical Gandalf. Waiting until the last moment, keeping me dangled in suspense. Still, I wonder what is the problem. I have never seen him so sombre, even when Sauron sent his whole army after him at Barad-dur. Jeez, the old wizard didn't even flinch at the sight of my bloody mail and pack. He was probably close when he fought the Balrog at Moria, though. I wouldn't be sombre. I'd be running away as fast as my hobbit feet can carry me shrieking for help. Of course, I was worried about Gandalf, so I didn't run away. Of all the nerve, giving us all such a tremendous fright. You can imagine how relieved I was when I found out he was alive. Although that event happened after the tragic loss of my finger, I was nonetheless very pleased of the effect. The ring gone, Gandalf here, Smeagol gone, Sauron gone, it seemed like a "happily ever after" story.
Naturally, life is not like that. It refuses to let you sit down and relax. It forces you to get up out of your cozy bed and go somewhere and do something worthwhile. It took me a while to discover my worth, even when the whole ring mess came to me. Sigh, sometimes I wish I was just normal Frodo Baggins and not some stupid Ringbearer whose finger got bitten off. Quite frankly, it's a nuisance. I can't write my stories any more, except with my left hand (so you'll pardon my print). Now I'm a hero just because I'm kind of ambidextrous and also the destroyer of the ring of power.
I mean, honestly, you wouldn't like having fans crowd around your nice and roomy Bag End asking for autographs. I like my nice round hobbit hole un-polluted by adoring fans (mainly made up of eager little hobbit children with their disapproving parents looking on from a safe distance.) But how could you decline a cute little hobbit looking up at you with wistful eyes? Nobody's that heartless. Except for a few people, perhaps…
Anyway, back to the current time. I trudged along the winding staircase that led to the house of Elrond Half-Elven, the last of the Eldar. I could use the rest before the meeting tomorrow. (I think, not including Galadriel, Celeborn, and Cirdan,) I suppose it's a good thing I am recording the rest of The Red Book, because elves, even the Eldar never mention hobbits, and they seldom mention Men either. Elves don't cite even the hobbits' very few adventures (i.e. The Desolation of Smaug). I have my audacious side, after all I AM part Took and Brandybuck, the more adventurous part of the hobbits. Bagginses were always well to do. Well, I presume Uncle Bilbo and I are a disgrace to hobbits. I have heard the whispers "Mr. Frodo was always such a nice lad,"
"Yes, at least until he went back to that horrible Buckland where folk are so queer and outlandish,"
"WELL hic IF THAT IS hic QUEERNESS, hic WE COULD hic DO hic WITH A BIT hic MORE OF hic IT!!!!!!!!!! MR. hic FRODO AND hic HIS UNCLE ARE hic VERY NICE GENTLE hic HOBBITS." As usual, the Gaffer bellowed on the top of his lungs at the Green Dragon. Being a bit more deaf, the Gaffer spent more and more time at the Dragon in Bywater. There he spent most of his time yelling at well to do hobbits who were constantly whispering about how odd the Bagginses and Tooks and Cottons and Brandybucks were and how pleasant it would have been if Mr. Bilbo stayed out of the wizards businesses. Oh well, I can't believe how much I miss the Green Dragon. Or Bag End. Sigh, off to bed now.
A/N- Thank you all!!!! I'm sorry the chapters are so short. To tide yourself by, go to fictionpress and read my other stories. My username is the same.