Dream With Hope
by Talisha Hibdon

RATING: G (future NC-17)
PAIRING: Frodo/Sam
DISCLAIMER: The disclaimer telling you that I don't own Frodo or Sam or any of Tolkien's world was lost in Gandalf's pointy hat. =D
SUMMARY: A drama in the works. Frodo decides to return to Middle-earth to try and find new meaning for his life without the hope of ever having Sam's love. But is there really no hope?
NOTES: This fic may take a LONG time to write. I've no clue how many chapters there will be, but this fic WILL be long. Have patience and you will be rewarded! All feedback welcome, especially as this fic is still in the drafting stages.
SPOILERS: If you have not read the Return of the King, or at least know how LOTR is going to end, you probably shouldn't read this fic, that is unless you peeps like spoilers, like I do. .

Chapter 3

"Oi.. Now that's an impressive one."

"Be sure to grab it by the root, now. Don't damage it."

"It's all wet."

"Well, shake it off then."

The afternoon sun was shining bright on the stalks of green leaves, light shimmering and scattering through the leaves of the trees. Merry-lad poked his curly head through the tall stalks of corn to spy out Frodo-lad and Pippin-lad hunched over, looking down at something.

"What are ye two up to?" he asked of his older and younger brothers.

"Nothin'," Frodo said quickly, eyes darting back from what he had been studying to Merry. "What are you doing?"

"Nothin'," Merry answered just as quickly. The two brothers looked at each other for a long moment. Pippin chuckled at their expressions.

"Carrots again?" Frodo-lad asked with a knowing look.

"Mushrooms again?" Merry-lad inquired in turn. Both nodded. "I reckon Farmer Diggle isn't going to be pleased with you stealing his mushrooms every season."

"Well, I except he'd be even less pleased if he knew you was stealin' his carrots, then selling them back to him without 'im knowin' it," Frodo retorted.

"At least I'm making a profit," Merry-lad stepped from out of the corn stalks and Pippin-lad ran up to him, showing him a large mushroom they had found.

"Frodo's teaching me which mushrooms are safe to pick!" the small lad piped up, looking very pleased with himself.

"Finding 'shrooms aren't nearly half as hard is trying to a find a carrot that is just ripe for uprootin'," Merry snorted, trying to sound intelligent and mature.

"Leastways, ye can't die from picking the wrong type of carrot, Mer," Frodo-lad responded as he turned back to the patch of fungus he had found.

Rose-lass then chose that moment to step around from behind a tree, looking plenty annoyed. Grass was caught in her light brown hair, and she immediately stomped up to Frodo, poking him in the head with her finger.

"You ass!" Rose snapped, but Frodo didn't even turn to look at her as she continued to poke him in the head. "You said you'd come and find me!"

"Rose, we stopped playing Hide and Seek hours ago when we couldn't find you," Merry stated plainly, and before he saw it coming, Rose had strode up to him and took him by the ear, eliciting a yelp from the younger boy.

"More like as not you stopped playing when ye found some vegetables to swipe," the lass scolded, earning another cry from her little brother. "Dad will hear about this when he gets back, he will!"

"Oh, come on now, Rosie!" Merry squeaked. "Ye know it's for a good cause!"

"Yes, rottin' your teeth on cookies from the Muffin Tin is a good cause," Rose yanked a little harder.

"I like cookies!" Pippin hopped up and down.

"Aw, let 'im be, Ro," Frodo murmured from where he stooped. "Farmer Diggle 'ill catch him one of these days, and that's sure to be punishment enough. He may have a plenty o' 'shrooms, but he really misses his carrots when Merry swipes 'em."

"And you!" Rose turned to face him, letting go of Merry long enough to give him a chance to scramble away. "You're even worse than him, Frodo. You are supposed to be a role model for these brothers of ours, what with you being the second eldest, and here ye are-" she made a motion to the whole scenario with her hands, "burglaring mushrooms right along with 'em!"

"Aye, but I EAT my haul," Frodo murmured with a smirk. "I'm an honest burglar." At last he stood up, a bag full of mushrooms. The patch that had been there before was nearly completely bare. "Besides, role modelin' is Elanor's job."

"That's a weak excuse, Fro," Rose raised an eyebrow.

"Anyhow, you're not one to complain, Ro," the lad's blue eyes flashed with mirth, moving to leave. "You enjoy these mushrooms just as much Mum and Dad do." He smirked and tweaked her nose as he passed. "That's why ye won't tell them." And with that, Frodo-lad walked off out of the field, head held high and quiet laughter trailing behind.

"When did Dad say he was going to come back from Michel Delvings?" Rose asked Merry without taking her eyes off of Frodo's back.

"Should be back the day after tomorrow," Merry answered, his own grey eyes locked on their retreating brother's form.

"Good, because I'm going to kill Frodo, and I need time to think of an excuse for why he won't be coming home!" Rose growled and ran after Frodo, picking up her skirts to pick up speed.

"Ho! Wait for us!" Merry cried out, gathering his own bag of goods and running after his older sister.

"Yeah, for us!" Pippin echoed and followed suit, giggling at the prospect of rough housing with their older brother.

"Mr. Mayor! Mayor Gardner!" a small group of journalists with notepads at the ready, all clamoring for the Mayor's attention. Robin Smallburrow, a well groomed hobbit in a green suit with bright hazel eyes and a wave of curly brown hair, made a motion of silence to the group of hobbits that included not just journalists, but many a concerned citizen of Michel Delvings.

"Now, now, if you please, everyone," Mr. Smallburrow said, raising his voice above the crowd. "Please, could we have quiet. The Mayor is about to make a speech."

The group hushed up quickly and waited as the Mayor Gardner walked onto the small makeshift podium. "Thank you, Shirriff," said the Mayor in his most professional tone. "I would like to first thank all of you for coming today. Now, I'm sure all of you are concerned about the recent attacks on the Shire folk by those beastly creatures within the past few months. Let me first say that I have indeed dealt with these monsters before, long ago now. They are called Orcs. You may know them better as Goblins from old Mr. Bilbo Baggins' tales about his adventure away from the Shire."

The crowd began to murmur at this, some sounding skeptical at the mention of the rumored mad hobbit's story book creatures, while others gasped in genuine, horrified belief. All sounded very concerned. "Hear, hear!" Robin Smallburrow boomed, calling for silence again.

"You are probably asking yourselves why these vile beasts are choosing now to come from their previous dwellings to trouble us," the Mayor continued. "If I may, I do have a theory for that. Orcs, or Goblins if you like, were originally made from corrupted Elves," more murmurs at this, "and Elves, from what I've seen, have an instinctual need to come to the Sea and cross over it to go back to their own island safe haven.

"Since the end of the War and the downfall of the Enemy, these pitiful things have had no will to guide them or give them purpose. Many have been killed, but not all, and these few survivors, I believe, are harkening to their deeply buried Elvish instincts to cross over the Sea. And as you may well know, Elves have at times been seen passing through the Shire while on their way to the Grey Havens, so it is more like as not that these Goblins are also passing through as they make their way there."

The shocked and aghast exclamations of most the hobbits were cut off by Mr. Smallburrows silent gestures. "So then," the Mayor of Michel Delvings continued, "here's what I intend to do about this situation. Any hobbit who spots a Goblin about in the Shire must immediately report it to a local authority. The authorities will then attempt to capture the Goblins, alive if at all possible. Then it shall be transported to the opposite end of the Shire, closest to the Grey Havens as can be managed, and afterwards released. I won't have any unnecessary killing done on Shire soil.

"Now, that's all I have to say on the subject," Mayor Gardner resolved. "I've already sent a letter of instructions to the Thain in regard to how to properly handle the situation, and hopefully it will become one less trouble for our hard working citizens to concern themselves about. Thank you very much. Good day." And with that, all the hobbits started talking at once, all asking a different assortment of complicated questions about what the Mayor had just addressed, but the Mayor simply ignored them and stepped down from the podium. Robin Smallburrow warded everyone off as the Mayor of the Shire retreated inside the Mayor's office and closed the door swiftly behind.

It was a few moments later when the door to the office opened again and in stepped Mr. Smallburrow, shutting the door behind him. "Nice job, Sam. You got the whole town talking now."

Samwise looked at his old friend and grinned, more at ease now than when he was outside with so many eyes peering at him. "Well, there's no help for it if they don't always like what they hear. What I have decided, I have decided. I simply won't have more blood than is need spilled here in the Shire. Mr. Frodo would have been against it, so I won't abide it."

"Aye, but capturing one of those horrid things alive, Sam?" Robin shook his head. "I'm not so sure it can be done."

"The militia is trained well enough, and we have some stout Men guardin' our borders," Sam said, settling into a large chair that sat in wait behind the Mayor's even larger desk. "More like as not we can handle it."

"Well, yer the Mayor, so I guess you know best," Robin shrugged, preparing a pipe to have a relaxing smoke, Sam following suit. "Anyhow, on to lighter subjects. How be your lovely wife, Miss Rose, then? Is she getting on well with the baby?"

"Oh, aye," Sam nodded, lighting his pipe. "Rosie has yet to ever run into trouble during a pregnancy, and I prey she never will. Yes, she and the baby are both well, thank you."

"And the other children?"

"All well and happy," Sam smiled around his pipe.

"That's good," Robin nodded. "I should like to have a good wife and family as you have someday myself."

"A wish as likely to come true," Sam chuckled. "You're a fine fellow, Robin. I'm sure there must be plenty of lasses with their eye set on you."

Robin flushed and ended up blowing the pipeweed smoke out of his nose. "Well, maybe."

Sam eyed his friend. "Rosie seems to think so.." Robin turned an even darker shade and Sam noted that he had begun to fidget. "Which reminds me, Rob. Rose wanted to invite you to Bag End sometime for a visit. It's been a while since we've all been together outside of work, especially since you moved up here to Michel, and she'd dearly love to have you for tea sometime when you're in town next."

"Oh, splendid!" Robin sighed, leaning back into his chair. "I think I should like that. It really has been too long, now that I think about it."

"Then I'm glad," Sam nodded.

"Oh yes. Tell her I wouldn't miss it!" Robin grinned. "It'll be like old times. Remember when we used to take tea at my mother's smail when we were but children?"

"I remember indeed," Samwise chuckled. "I recall how you always insisted on getting the largest piece of seedcake, and used the excuse that you used your brain more than both of use and deserved the larger piece."

"Well, I was always the one that could talk us out of trouble," Robin smiled at the fond memories. "But then, ye didn't need me to do your talking for you anymore once you began hanging around Bag End all the time, just so you could follow around your Mr. Frodo like a puppy. Never could really understand what you saw in him, begging your pardon, and no harm meant to Mr. Baggins. But he was far too odd and aloof, if you ask me."

Sam leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. "Well, I suppose that was all part of the - well, his charm, really."

"Charm?" Robin raised an eyebrow. "I had always understood him to be rather shy, not charismatic."

"Very well. Then call it appeal, at least for meself. You must recall how I was always attracted to things out of the norm."

"Aye!" Rob laughed. "Oh that you were, Sam, my friend. Always talkin' about Elves and Dragons and all other such nonsense, even as ye grew older." Robin blew out a fair blue smoke ring that drifted out the cracked open round window. "But I suppose it was all for the best. Who knows what might have happened if ye never left Shire searching for Elves and learned all about fighting monsters and standing up to wizards and the like. We might all be still bowing and scraping at Sharkey's doorstep. Nay, I'm not about to complain about your interest in such outlandish matters."

Sam sighed. No one ever gave credit where credit was really due, at least not in his mind. They might all be bent under the yoke of some terrible evil if it had not been for his own aloof, odd, wonderful Mr. Frodo. And yet, no matter how many times he corrected people of their praise of him and pointed out who really succeeded in the saving of them all, not one of them seemed to understand it. To the hobbits of the Shire, it was Meriadoc, Peregrin, and himself who were the real heroes, and Mr. Frodo had simply faded into the background, as if he himself had never had a hand in the events that came to pass.

He sat puffing out a few more smoke rings before standing up. "Well, I'm right starved. Let's see about gettin' something to eat for elevensies, shall we?"

"Yes, lets!" Robin hopped to his feet, looking very hungry indeed. The two hobbits walked out of the office, chatting pleasantly to each other, and walked into a nearby inn. If Sam had only chosen to look down the road not a mile away, he would have seen a figure coming down it, riding a pony, green hood cast over the person's head, and an inner light glowing from within that only he alone had ever been able to see.

Frodo Baggins traveled on through Michel Delvings without stopping. He rarely stopped at all, and only to rest his pony and have something to eat. The tabby cat Para slept on his lap every time they rode, but always when he stopped for meals or rest, the cat would dash off down the road ahead of them. Just before riding forward once more, when Frodo would begin to think that he had seen the last of the mysterious feline, he would come scampering back to the Hobbit, just as if he had been called.

"Checked the Road again? Coast's clear and all's safe for a traveling Hobbit to wonder down?" Frodo would joke aloud, and the cat would simply leap onto the pony and settle on his lap for another doze.

It had been several days since he had set forth from the Grey Havens, but already he was acutely missing the sound of the waves and the cry of the sea gulls whenever he woke up, not because he particularly cared for those sounds, but because those sounds meant safety, neutrality, life without worry for what others may thought, or how they may judge you. In Aman, he was held in highest regard by the Elves, not shunned but welcomed and blessed by all who knew him for his sacrifice.

"Well, it is said that the hero is welcomed everywhere, except in his own home town," he murmured to the napping cat.

Here, he knew he'd be judged. He had already begun to feel the burn of peering eyes and the flood of whispers in his ears. Had any of them recognized him? He had purposely kept his face covered, shadowed by his hood, so none might guess his identity. But perhaps that was the reason why the people of the Shire had been whispering to each other whenever he passed through a town. He probably looked very suspicious.

Doesn't matter, he thought. They'll all realize soon enough who's suddenly come back after fifteen years of absence. Things cannot usually be kept secret for long in the Shire.

And that was his main worry as he slowly neared Hobbiton. Sam would find out along with everyone else, and then what was he to do? Move back into Bag End? Sam would expect it, surely, but could he really handle being around so many memories and reminders of dreams without hope? Or should he try to find another hole to take up, call home? Would any of it really feel like home ever again?

The birds sang welcomes, the trees whispered greetings, and the Hobbit didn't even realize until it was too late where he had been leading his pony the whole time until he was already at the front gate. Frodo looked up and nearly fell off his ride, cat and all.

Bag End appeared nearly the same as ever it did, but to it's former Master, it was the most painfully beautiful sight he had yet encountered on his homebound journey. The garden just inside the gate that worked it's way around the corner of the smail was even more lovely than he remembered, alive with blossoms and greens that seemed to be singing sweet songs of the gardener's care as they lifted their faces to the sun. The path leading up to the front porch was tidy and well kept, and the round green door looked as if it had just been recently repainted.

Frodo Baggins stared opened mouthed for a long time at the front porch he had once called his own, and it seemed to him as if he had fallen asleep and had passed into a sweet dream of finding home again. Spellbound, the gentlehobbit slid off the pony, Para crawling off him as he went, and slowly he took two steps towards the gate. His blue eyes were glazed, as if he were in a trance. To open that gate and that front door again! Oh, if only...

Just then the door did open, sending Frodo springing back as if he expected Shelob herself to crawl out at that instant. Instead of the monster spider, however, out stepped a young girl, clad in a light violet dress and an apron, broom in hand, blonde locks of hair shinning like gold in the sun. The hobbit lass almost resembled an elf-maid, but felt more comfortable and down to earth than any elf he had known. The lass looked up at him then, right in the eye, and he saw that hers were a beautiful, familiar earth brown.

Time seemed to stop, and all Frodo could see where those eyes staring back at him. The eyes were the same, the very same. So were her lips, red and smiling. He took another stumbling step away from the gate and his back collided with the pony.

"Good day, sir," her voice called, melodic and pleasant as the call of the spring birds. "Is there something I can help you with?"

She looked about fifteen years old.

"N-no," Frodo spoke suddenly, hastily, climbing back onto his pony as if the ground were made of burning coals. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I've lost my way.."

This has to be a dream. Yes, a bad dream. It can't be real...

"Well, then perhaps I can help point you in the direction you wish to go, sir," the lass walked down the path and stopped at the gate, still holding the broom in her hand.

"No, it's all right," the Baggins said more curtly than he meant to, "I'm just trying to find my way home. Good day to you." Frodo immediately urged the pony forward, not daring to look up into those familiar warm brown irises again.

Please, if this is a dream, I want to wake up. Let me wake up!

"Well, all right then, sir. I hope you find what you are looking for. Take care!" the lass called after him as he rode away as swiftly as he dared without looking as if he were running away.

How? How in Arda could he ever think that he'd find a dwelling place again under that roof? No, never. It would never be home to him again. He simply didn't belong there anymore.

But then... where now in Middle-earth could he ever call home again?

Elanor Gardner watched as the stranger rode away down the North Hill Lane, seemingly in great haste, and she wondered briefly at his behavior. He seemed to turn white when he saw her, which was hard to imagine as his skin had already been much lighter than any of her brothers or sisters.

And why had he seemed so familiar, as if she had seen him somewhere before, although she was sure she would have recalled seeing someone who looked so Elvish. It had not been an Elf, of that she was sure. She recalled meeting the fair Queen Arwen not too long ago, so she knew well the difference between Elves and Hobbits. Even so, with his dark curled hair such a stark contrast to his pale skin, high cheekbones, and brilliant blue eyes, even she wondered momentarily if he had not actually been an Elf whose growth had somehow been stunted.

Her thoughts were broken when she heard a high pitch screech coming from behind the Hill, and she had only turned just in time to avoid being run over by Frodo-lad as he sped past, laughing madly and carrying two sacks in his hands, followed swiftly behind by a red faced Rose, an irritated Merry, and a whooping Pippin.

"Here, sister! 'Shrooms!" Frodo piped as he tossed a sack to her, which she barely caught in time.

"You'll pay for that, Frodo Gardner!" Rose-lass snarled as she continued to give chase, and Elanor noticed that the lower part of her dress was covered in fresh mud.

"Gimme back my carrots!" Merry-lad hollered after his brother, following close behind.

"Give 'em back! I want cookies too! Cookie theif!" Pippin-lad brought of the rear, holding a stick as if it were a sword. "CHARGE!"

Elanor blinked as they sped out of the gate and down the Lane, Rosie shouting threats at Frodo, who simply cackled even louder, until they were gone again in the trees. Then she shook her head and started on sweeping the path to the front porch. "Children," muttered the child.

Days passed like summer breeze through the trees. Afternoon fell darker as Lady Night made ready for her daily trek over the world. People began to make their way home for the evening. Children were ushered inside by their mothers, and smoke rose from many chimneys as supper was being prepared. Still darker it grew and sentinels watched as a cloaked figure passed through their gates, just before they would close for the night. They stopped the figure, asked of his business in their village, and when they were satisfied, they sent the stranger on his way.

On the figure went, pony following him close behind, on and on, until at last, walking down the Lane, he came upon a large door cut into the largest Hill in the area. The door itself was studded, yet it didn't appear to be threatening. The smell of cooking drifted from slightly cracked window like a promise, and the stranger inhaled the aroma deeply. Then, after a few more moments of staring it the door, he knocked three times and stepped away again. More minutes passed until eyes came peering through a small peep hole in the door. A gasp was heard and the door was flung open a second later.

The Master of Buckland stared open mouthed and eyes shimmering with unbelieving tears of joy. The stranger smiled at him, and the Master quickly took him in his arms in a massive bear hug, lifting the new arrival off his feet as the Master was actually quite tall for a hobbit. When at last he was set upon the ground again, both Hobbits were weeping for joy.

The stranger smiled. "Well, I'm back."

"My dear cousin Frodo!" Meriadoc Brandybuck crowed, clasping his hands tightly, his mouth still hanging open in obvious stupefaction and awe. "What wonder is this? Or do my eyes begin to play tricks on me?"

"No, dear Merry," Frodo shook his head with a grin and patted his younger cousin on the back. "It's real. I've come."

"But what-!" Merry started, then he laughed heartily and flung up his arms in amazement. "Well, I am an overgrown lummox, like my father says, for keeping you standing on the doorstep when you must be weary from your long trip. Oh, bless me! Do come in, cos!" And with that he ushered Frodo in, signaling to a servant to unload his baggage from the pony and lead it to the stables. Para the cat leapt off after Frodo, sprinting through the door just as it closed behind them.

Brandy Hall's ancient lobby was large, yet comfortable. The paneled floor was cool against Frodo's feet and as Merry led them in, he recognized the several hearths that burned warm about the room and tables that had always been there ever since he himself live in these same halls. A large, low sitting round table sat on a huge rug in the center, with many chairs and couches around it. They sat themselves on one of these couches, close to a glowing hearth, and the Master quickly called for some food and drink for the new arrival and himself.

"Not that I'm not right pleased with seeing you back after all this time," Merry started, "but I have to ask. Why did you come back?"

Frodo shook his head, still not quiet ready to talk about it. "Not now, Merry. Firstly, I should like very much to hear all about what you've been up to these many years."

Merry watched his older cousin for a moment, a searching expression on his face. He knew well how secretive and introverted his cousin could be at times, even to the point of being unhealthily so. But he also knew you wouldn't be able to get any information from him if you continued pressed the subject in question. So, for the time being, Merry decided to humor his cousin and tell all about what he had been doing the whole fifteen years that Frodo had been away.

Frodo listened with growing interest as his cousin spoke of the many activities he had been involved in ever since before he became Master of Buckland. He spoke of living six carefree years with Peregrin, with the occasional visit to both Rohan and Gondor. He spoke of meeting Legolas and Gimli in Fangorn when they had gone to visit Treebeard and the Ents. And also, to Frodo's pleasant surprise, he spoke of Peregrin getting married to Diamond of Long Cleeve.

"Yes, Pip has a lad of his own now. Named him after the Steward Faramir, he did," Merry smiled warmly though his gold flecked hazel eyes shined strangely in the fire light at the mention of Pippin's marriage, which Frodo would not quite define. In any case, the look was gone a second later, replaced by blatant curiousity."I've noted that you've yet to ask me about Samwise. I wonder why that is..." the Master said this in a nonchalant tone, but his eyes revealed more than his tone had.

Frodo shook his head. "What's to ask? I can already guess what has happened to him. Haven't I already prophesied it fifteen years ago? Sam is Mayor, and has already had many children and is living happily in Bag End. Is that not how it is?"

Merry raised an eyebrow. "Yes, as a matter of fact." Though I'm not entirely sure about the "happily" part of it, he thought to himself, but decided to keep that bit of information to himself. "But what about you then?"

Frodo blinked. Para the cat, who had settled at his feet, yawned. Merry sipped his wine and continued to look at him.

"I mean, you have yet to tell me anything of what's been happening to you. Couldn't you tell me at least how dear old Bilbo is?"

Frodo closed his eyes and felt his heart sink. "He's dead, Merry. He died not more than a week ago now.."

There was a sharp intake of breath and Meriadoc leaned back in his chair, blinking rapidly. "Oh... Frodo, I- I didn't know.. I'm..."

Frodo raised his left hand in a gesture of silence, the sight missing ring finger and the looking of weariness on his face making him look very old suddenly, far older than he should have managed with such youthful features. It was not unlike the look that Gandalf has at time worn when it seemed that all the troubles of the world were weighing heavily on his mind. "Don't fret, cos. He went peacefully, and glad for the rest."

Merry nodded gravely. They fell into a tense silence.

"But still!" Merry started up again, more eager than ever. "You've yet to tell me why you've decided to come back? Wasn't the Blessed Realm a nice enough place to live? Didn't the Elves treat you well? And why haven't you visited Sam on your way here? What is going through your mind now, Frodo? What made you change you mind from what it was fifteen years ago? What-"

"Merry," Frodo broke in suddenly.

Merry blinked. "Um, what is it?"

"I... I can't rightly explain yet, but... Please. I need stay here..."

The tabby cat opened it's eyes, twin sapphire moons gazing upward at his at his adopted master. Then he stretched and yawned once before he scampered over to the open round window, leapt onto the polished sill, and was lost in the darkening dusk.