Woo-hoo! The next chapter! I've actually had this written for a while... I just forgot to upload it. Leave it to me, I swear. Anyway, who's the Hobbit? Thou shalt discover't anon! Sorry, I'm on a Shakespeare stint. ;)
It was a normal day for Frodo- he woke on time, had breakfast, wrote a bit in Bilbo's old book, ate second breakfast, then went on a walk. It was a beautiful, warm, clear day, perfect for walking and reminiscing about the Fellowship, remembering the quest and wondering what became of his friends. Walking back home after visiting Sam, Rosie and their child, he looked up at the clouds, finding shapes in them as he used to do with Bilbo when he was a young boy. He smiled fondly at the memory.
Rounding the bend that connected to the last stretch of path that would lead him to Bag End, he admired once again his neighbors' gardens. Since the quest, since the Second War of the Ring, since all the death, the hardships, the suffering, he had striven to never again look over something beautiful, no matter how small or how many times before he had seen it. He strolled along the path, his pipe in his mouth and his thumbs in his pockets.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a man appeared a few yards away. Frodo yelped and jumped in surprise, then stood stock still, starting at the stranger. His hair was dark, like Frodo's, but short on his head... which stood at least two feet above Frodo's own. With a brown jacket over a baggy red shirt accompanied by a blue neckerchief, brown pants and oversized boots, he looked rather comical. But if Frodo knew anything from his travels, it was that looks can be - and most of the time were - deceiving.
So they remained this way for a while, standing still and staring at each other. Then the man grinned and said, "Hi." Frodo bolted, running as fast as his furry feet would carry him home. People did not just appear in the Shire, even in this time of peace, and ESPECIALLY not from thin air without meaning some kind of harm.
There! Bag End was straight ahead! Only a few more steps and he would be safe inside his little hobbit hole. He dashed up the path, into his house, and slammed the door, leaning against it on the inside. Then a thought hit him. What about the rest of the hobbits that lived in the Shire? What about Rosie and their child? What about Fatty Bolger, or Sam's gaffer? Of the whole population, only four would have any idea at all what to do if this man did mean harm, and one of them was himself. He decided what to do, his eyebrows coming down his face to rest above eyes filled with the fire of fierce protection and determination. His mouth set into a straight line, his hands balling at his sides against the door. Pushing off the door with his forearms, he raced down the main hall until he came to Bilbo's old study. Momentarily toying with the idea of going to Bilbo's chest, he quickly disregarded it and instead crossed the room to his own. He lifted the lid as quickly and as carefully as he could, digging to the bottom of the pile of old mementos with his free hand. There! His hand grasped the well-worn hilt of his sword, the blade given him by Strider on Weathertop. He pulled it out of the chest by its sheath, belting it around his waist hurriedly. He then ran to the back of the hole, to the window that was the farthest from where the strange man was. Frodo opened the window, checking carefully to ensure there was no one around before scrambling out. His back to the hills that housed his neighbors and his eye trained for any abnormality, he snaked his way back to Sam's dwelling the back way. He came around Sam and Rosie's home, thanking the Valar that their door was in the opposite direction from the way he ran, certain that the man would have followed him. He quickly, desperately knocked on the door, glancing over his shoulder nervously. Elanor, Sam's daughter, opened the door, a huge smile appearing on her face. She laughed, a wonderful, beautiful sound. "Uncle Frodo!" she called. Frodo whipped his head back around to look at her, shushing her and unintentionally scaring her with the expression in his eyes. It was nothing she had ever seen him show before; fear. Her eyes grew wide as she placed a hand on her lips and backed up a few steps, making room for Frodo to enter their house. Frodo did, quickly turning to look outside again before shutting the door and kneeling, facing Elanor.
"I am sorry for that, Elanor. I need to talk to your father. It's urgent. Can you get him for me?" Elanor's face brightened a bit as Frodo spoke, and she nodded and smiled at him before bouncing down the hallway, her unique golden curls bobbing merrily on her shoulders.
In no time at all, Sam appeared. Immediately noticing the sword on Frodo's hip, he looked quizzically at his friend.
Review, review! I love to hear what you think!
~Mirnava