Chapter 2: Frodo's Dark Side
Frodo Baggins was terribly bored and terribly sad. He was bored because there was nothing to do and terribly sad because of the passing of his parents. Frodo felt as if he would never be happy again. He also felt angry – at himself and the world. Frodo was trying to take his mind off his frustration and pressing sadness by parasitizing his Elvish – as Bilbo had suggested. However, it was not working. He just kept writing his name on the piece of parchment.
In irritation, the young hobbit threw his quill down. With a heavy sigh, Frodo peered out the window. Gaffer Gamgees son was working under his window. He had a bucket full of weeds. It needs dumped, thought Frodo. Sure enough, the young hobbit stood and hefted the full bucket up. With inquisitive eyes, the lad looked into Frodo's window and stared for just a second. A slight smile crossed Frodo's face as he noted the redness in the hobbit's ears. Frodo watched him scurry away and sighed. The Gaffer's son reminded him of the times before the boating accident.
Frodo raced around on the dock playing with a hoop and stick. His mother and father were their small boat, watching their son play. Both laughed merrily, as Frodo fell in a mud puddle. He was drenched in mire, but the lad didn't care. He just got up and continued on playing. Frodo wiped the mud off, but much of it would not come off.
Deciding that it would be best to wash some of it off, the lad went to the waters edge. He bent and started to scoop. But that was as far as Frodo made it. His father yelled, "Frodo, no!" and dove in after him. His mother followed suit. He straightened and watched in horror. No one was around and the young boy could not swim well enough to save his parents, who could not swim at all. A small scream came from his lips and Frodo sat down.
"Mama…papa," he whispered. He would have gone for help, but there was no place around to get help – they were in the middle of nowhere. He stayed there for two days. No one had come until then. Everyone was shocked with the finding of Frodo and the death of his parents. They would ask what happened, but he never answered and soon they stopped questioning him. Frodo liked it that.
Deep down, he felt like it was his fault his parents had died. If he had not gone over to wash the mud off of him, his father and mother would never have dove in.
Sighing heavily, Frodo stood. He was tired of just sitting and doing nothing. His uncle was away and Frodo had no one to speak to. Perhaps the Gaffer or his son would feel like talking. He went of his room and outside. Stepping onto the stone, Frodo took a deep breath and walked down the path.