A/N: This chapter is going to be little scenes with page breaks as we jump time, unlike the last chapter. This was originally all going to be one chapter, but as it reached the twenty-page mark and I was not quite done, I decided to split it in two parts, which then became three. Enjoy~ depressedchildren

Chapter 2: Growing up in the Shire pt 1

3006

Samwise Gamgee had begun to take on more and more of his Old Gaffer's duties, which included working on the gardens of Bag End. This gave Sam an opportunity to observe the adopted, young Master Baggins. In a few short years, the human babe had gone from squalling every hour to running around and jumping from every surface he could find. He was taller than most of the hobbit children his age, but still too young to play with the older children. It must have left the young Master lonely and surely must be the reason the blonde toddler continued to jump off every surface.

"Dôranna!" Master Fordo cried in distress before there was a clatter and the sound of some pottery breaking followed by childish laughter. Sam ducked his head and focused on weeding the flower bed that rested beneath the study window. He fought down a smile and chuckle as he heard Master Frodo chide and then fret over the child. It was probably a miracle that the toddler had yet to need a healer come by the burrow.

The toddler continued laughing before saying something that was entirely unintelligible to Sam, but Master Frodo seemed to understand the toddler. "Fine, we will go to the gardens then," the older hobbit managed to sound both tired yet deeply fond. Sam tried to compose himself, but it was heartwarming to hear the Master of Bag End interact with his adopted son.

Sam busied himself with gathering the pulled weeds and putting them into a bin—it would either become kindling or compost. He heard the door to Bag End open followed by one set of feet padding out to the front gardens at a sedate pace. That could only mean Master Frodo was carrying the toddler.

"Alright! Alright," Master Frodo said with a laugh. Sam could only guess the blonde child was struggling and asking to be put down. "Don't run too far from me, Dôranna," the older hobbit said, and now Sam heard tiny feet running through the grass outside the burrow. The running was accompanied by truly incomprehensible exclamations.

Master Frodo chuckled again, "That is a peony." Sam chanced a glance over his shoulder and sure enough, young Master Dôranna was gesturing to a cluster of peonies. Sam turned back to his work and attempted to keep his smile down.

The toddler made another exclamation, "Wha ah!"

Sam honestly did not know what the child just said but Master Frodo was quick with a response. "Roses. They are growing remarkably well this year, Sam." Oh, he was addressing Sam?

Sam straightened slightly and brushed some of the dirt off his hands. "Ah, yes, Master Frodo. We've had good conditions. I expect the hollyhocks will come in nicely when summer rolls around, sir."

The toddler's attention had turned to him during the exchange, and he quickly ran up to Sam. He had shockingly blue eyes; they were so wide and expressive. He stared up at Sam with his mouth open before he blinked and picked up one of the weeds Sam had pulled but had not yet put in the bin. "Why?" the toddler exclaimed, and Sam blinked. Had the child just asked why? Had he heard him right? Sam looked to Master Frodo for guidance.

Frodo was smiling with his arms crossed over his chest. "I think Dôranna is asking why you pulled up the weeds," he said amused.

Sam quickly jerked his head back when the toddler began waving the weed in front of him. "Why?" he repeated.

Sam rubbed the back of his head. "Ah well, young master, you see these weeds hurt the other plants we want to grow. They take all the good things out of the earth for themselves, so we have to pull them to keep these other plants healthy."

The blonde child just stared at him for a moment with his mouth open before he turned on his heel and ran in another direction. Sam was left blinking and staring after the human child.

Master Frodo was chuckling. "He's a bit like a whirlwind, isn't he?" the older hobbit asked before he gave Sam a nod and chased after the blonde child. Sam stared after the Masters of Bag End and just shook his head with a laugh.

…

3008

The past (almost) four years had been some of Frodo's happiest now that he was without Bilbo. Bilbo had been such a large part of Frodo's life after his parents had passed, and while Frodo knew Bilbo was still out there writing his story down, he still deeply missed the old hobbit. If not for Dôranna, Frodo imagined his loneliness (and the listlessness he had felt growing in those first few years) would have been nearly unbearable. Of course, he had his friends, but it was different from that of family—of Bilbo.

Now, though, Frodo had his own family. Dôranna was a curious child and so energetic. Not even Frodo's long walks through the Shire could have prepared him for how much running he needed to do to just keep up with the young boy. Dôranna wanted to explore everything—every part of the Shire—and he wondered how it all worked. From the sun and sky to the earth beneath his feet, the blonde boy wanted to know. It did not help that in the blonde's eagerness to explore and learn, he would climb into dangerous places. Frodo had felt his heart stop many a time upon finding his adopted son in tall trees or perched on the chimneys of the smaller hobbit-holes.

It was a blessing and a curse that the boy's attention did not linger long after he had figured something out or otherwise sated his curiosity. He would quickly move onto the next thing to catch his eye. It made it difficult to focus him, but if he did go after something dangerous, he'd quickly move on. Still, it was best to start working on his focus.

Today, Frodo had managed to get the blonde child to sit down through dinner with the promise that he would tell the boy of Bilbo's adventures. While the child had been told the stories numerous times, he was either too young to remember or fell asleep too soon.

Frodo settled down with the three-nearly-four-year-old boy in their favorite chair. The human child was nearly Frodo's height, but Dôranna was still able to tuck his chin under Frodo's. He was not nearly as heavy as a hobbit of equal height, so it did not bother Frodo any that the boy was in his lap.

Frodo began the tale with the unexpected guests, and the child sang along with him when the songs came up since this was the part of the story he had heard the most. Then Frodo moved onto the trials the company faced on the road to Rivendell, which Dôranna usually fell asleep during. Tonight though, the blonde listened with bated breath through it all.

When Frodo related the encounter with the trolls, the boy was near trembling. "Did Bilbo get away?" he asked fretfully as he clutched Frodo's shirt. His expressive blue eyes were wide as he stared up at Frodo.

Frodo chuckled. "Of course. He made it safe back to the Shire from his long journey and adopted me, didn't he?" he asked. "Do you want to hear how Bilbo tricked those nasty trolls?"

The blonde eagerly nodded and so Frodo jumped back into the story. By the time the company came to Rivendell, the blonde child was beginning to nod off.

"Papa, wha'd you mean there's other langages?" the blonde slurred in his tiredness, but he fought to stay awake and rubbed at one of his eyes.

"There are many languages all throughout Middle Earth. Languages of elves, dwarves, and men. Different dialects too."

"I know a langage," he mumbled.

"Oh?" Frodo indulged.

Dôranna mumbled something incomprehensible as he finally succumbed to sleep. Frodo smiled and smoothed some of the boys' wild blonde hair. He sat like that for a moment and just enjoyed the sound of his adopted son snoring slightly. His small chest rose and fell against Frodo's and the hobbit felt light.

It was some time before Frodo began to feel pinpricks along the shoulder the boy rested on and decided it was time to tuck the blonde in bed. He was slightly awkward to carry, but Frodo was used to carrying him at this point. Frodo chuckled to himself, raising a human child had certainly given him plenty of exercise.

Frodo placed his ward on the bed and pulled the covers over him—really the blonde was as messy as Bilbo with keeping his bed unmade all day. He pressed a kiss to the blonde's forehead and brushed some hair away from his whisker-scarred cheek.

Frodo moved to the door of the room and looked once more at his adopted son. Dôranna would outgrow the bed in another year or two. Perhaps Frodo should see if he could put a few beds together for him? It was certainly unconventional raising a human in a hobbit-hole, and it made the hobbit wonder how long it would be until the blonde boy would be stooping in these halls as Gandalf often did.

Frodo gently closed the door and settled down in the study to think. Perhaps he should consider moving? It had been several months since Gandalf's last visit, and while the wizard would not say what kept him so worried, the wizard was clearly concerned during each visit.

Frodo stared out the study window at the night sky before thoughts of the Ring entered his mind and his gaze shifted to its hiding space. Perhaps he should pull it out? Bilbo did say it could be tricky, perhaps he should check it was still there?

Frodo's feet were already heading toward the trunk the ring was hidden in when his foot hit something. Looking down, Frodo smiled at the sight of Dôranna's favorite toy. It was doll with a crude likeness to a fox. He picked it up and moved back toward his ward's room.

He opened the door and set the doll on Dôranna's bed. The blonde stirred slightly and mumbled something incomprehensible before grabbing the stuffed toy and tucking it to his chest. He snuggled with the toy and mumbled several more things. There was a sort of cadence to his speech that was less like gibberish and more like an actual language.

Frodo must be more tired than he thought. Stifling a yawn, he left the room and made for his own.

The next morning was a bustle of activity, as it always was in Bag End since Frodo found Dôranna. The blonde child was flitting from one end of the kitchen to the other while Frodo prepared first breakfast. Frodo was about to ask for a plate but Dôranna was already at his side with a plate. Frodo chuckled while depositing the contents of the frying pan onto it. He then began adding more eggs to the frying pan.

Dôranna said something and Frodo did a double take. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

The child complied and said the same incomprehensible phrase. Frodo furrowed his brow. "I told you I know a langage!" the blonde child answered at the prompting and positively beamed. Frodo's eyes widened in recognition.

"Oh? And what did that phrase me?"

"Thank you!" the three-almost-four-year-old chirped as he smiled even more brightly. He then turned around and set the plate on the table.

Frodo reflected on the phrase from this morning and the ones the child had mumbled in his sleep. There was undeniable similarity in the intonation and pronunciation. Was the human child a natural when it came to languages and had made up his own? Frodo had been teaching the child some of the linguistics differences between Westron and Hobbitish, such as the absence of difference in addressing a person in a station of authority. Afterall, there were no monarchs or need for such formality in the Shire.

"Papa! It's burin'!" Dôranna exclaimed, and Frodo jerked to attention.

He quickly salvaged the eggs before requesting a plate. The blonde child dutifully presented the plate and then set it on the table while Frodo checked on the toast. The child must have turned the toast while Frodo was busy cooking.

He gave the child a reproachful look. "Dôranna, you know you are not supposed to handle the fire, what if you had been burned?"

"But I dinin," the child replied, and Frodo gave the blonde a stern look. He ducked his head. "Sorry Papa," he mumbled as he kicked his bare feet against the kitchen floor.

"Then promise you won't play with the fire without me or my friends looking after you." Frodo didn't like being stern with his adopted son, but it was needed—especially given his fascination with all things dangerous.

"I pomise!" the child said eagerly.

Frodo nodded after a moment and brought the toast to the table. As they sat down at the kitchen table, the blonde was looking rather despondent. Frodo cleared his throat after his first mouthful. "What other phrases have you come up with in this language of yours?"

The blonde immediately began to beam and began to ramble in his made-up language. The linguistically minded part of Frodo was fascinated and wanted to dissect every part of speech in this made-up language, but another part of Frodo was alarmed by the wholeness of this made-up language.

"So, a sentence is ordered subject object verb?" Frodo more or less announced. The child blinked a few times.

"Wha you mean, Papa?"

"Well, Westron, Hobbitish, and Sindarin are ordered subject verb object." At the child's continued confusion Frodo elaborated. "When we talk to each other, we start with a subject. Subject meaning the one who does an action, or verb, onto an object." Frodo continued to explain the parts of speech over breakfast and connected it back to the boy's lessons in Westron as well as his made-up language that was sounding less and less "made-up."

In fact, over the next several months, the two Baggins worked on this language the blonde child had dreamed up. Between outings outside—which constituted of the child running far afield of Frodo only to come running back to him with various plants and asking for their names and Frodo in turn asking what it would be in Dôranna's language—they worked on writing this language using the Westron alphabet. When Frodo would ask for a specific verb or noun that the child did not have a ready answer for, he'd close his brilliant blue eyes and think for a long moment before announcing the word.

Frodo had not felt so mentally stimulated in a long while—not since first learning Sindarin from Bilbo—and began working to learn this not-so-made-up language. Where had his adopted son come up with the ideas for this language? How did the answers come to him? Was he a prodigy of languages? Oh, if only Gandalf would visit so he could ask the wizard these questions!

One evening some time into this process, Frodo was pouring over his notes on his adopted son's language in his study. Dôranna was currently tucked in bed and mumbling in his language—Frodo understood bits and pieces now but sleep heavily distorted the words—so Frodo was left to practice the language on his own. There was a sudden tap at the window and the hobbit nearly jumped out of his seat. Gandalf! Thank goodness he was here!

Frodo hurried over to the front door to let the wizard in. The tall man ducked into the entrance, and once more Frodo wondered how long until Dôranna would need to do that too. "Gandalf!" Frodo greeted once he pushed aside his feelings about the rate at which Dôranna grew. "It has been some time," he chided instead. It had been well over a year since the Wizard's last visit.

"Not so long, my friend," the wizard replied with a smile. He peered around before his gaze focused on one of the back bedrooms, specifically Dôranna's room.

"He's asleep. He hasn't stayed up late since he moved out of diapers."

"Of course," Gandalf said with a chuckle and followed Frodo into a seating room. "And how has the young boy been? Still running you ragged?"

Frodo exhaled, "Always! But he's gotten into a strange…hobby?" Frodo fidgeted slightly. Now was his opportunity to ask the wizard.

"Stranger than his collection of weeds?" the wizard mused teasingly, and Frodo laughed.

"He hasn't collected weeds for nearly a year now." Frodo busied himself with preparing tea for himself and the wizard before he brought up his concerns. "No, he's fascinated with language."

"Is that such a surprise. Both you and Bilbo have affinities for learning languages—it seems only natural a child raised by you would have similar inclinations."

"He's made up his own language, Gandalf," Frodo stated. When Gandalf appeared ready to dismiss Frodo's concern, the hobbit hurried back to his study and brought out the notes he had made. "It is not the gibberish of children—it has sentence structure, conjugations, noun cases."

Frodo showed the wizard the modified Westron that was really more a phonetic spelling of the words his adopted son "made-up." The wizard began to sound the words on the page and Frodo corrected him.

"It's tonal?" the wizard said in surprise and Frodo nodded.

"Dôranna's consistent with the intonations too and in what ways the tone changes the meaning."

Gandalf frowned and continued to examine the words and grammatical rules Frodo had written in the margins.

"Is he some sort of linguistic prodigy?" Frodo asked nervously.

"That may be the case but there is more to this, isn't there?" Gandalf probed. His eyes bored into Frodo who nodded slowly.

"Yes, he speaks it in his sleep, and I realize now he's always spoken it when he's asleep—it had just been unintelligible when he was younger."

The wizard hummed and looked off toward the child's room—even though it was hidden by the walls of the burrow. It sometimes felt like the wizard could sense where Dôranna was.

"Do you suppose it has to do with him being a gift?" Frodo asked nervously. Gandalf turned to him slightly surprised but tried to pass it off as confusion. "I know you believe there is something more to my son, to Dôranna, but you do not tell me. Just as there is something troubling you even now, yet you will not say anything."

"They are just the concerns of an old wizard, Frodo. Nothing to worry about, my friend."

Frodo was not pleased with the dismissal and made that clear to the wizard as he crossed his arms over his chest and sent the tall wizard a displeased look.

"I would rather come to you with answers than speculations that may worry you needlessly."

"But there is something to be worried about?" Frodo countered and glanced off toward Dôranna's room.

The wizard sighed. "It may be nothing, and certainly has nothing to do with Dôranna."

Frodo glanced back to Gandalf with a frown. However, before he could pose his next question, small feet padded across the stone floor of the burrow. Both turned to see Dôranna running toward them. His stuffed fox toy clutched in one arm and the sleeves of his night gown rolled up his arms.

"Gandaf!" the child cried. "I though' I fel' you!" he said even as he collided with the seated wizards' legs. The child then saw the papers in his lap and cried gleefully. "You're learnin' my langage!?" Even in the "made-up" language, the blonde's words were mispronounced due to his youth.

"Yes," Gandalf replied, surprising Frodo. Just how quickly could the Wizard learn languages?

This pleased Dôranna greatly. The child then tried to climb into the wizard's lap. Frodo quickly rescued the papers.

"How…" Gandalf began haltingly. He gestured with one hand for Frodo to show him the notes again while the blonde child was staring up at him in wide-eyed wonder and joy. "…did you know language?" he asked awkwardly.

"I dreamded my langage!" the boy stated.

"What else does Dôranna dream?" Frodo asked. The wizard looked momentarily lost until he scanned back over the notes Frodo still held so he could read them.

Dôranna swiveled on his knees so he would only need to turn his head to face either Gandalf or Frodo. Of course, having a boney four-year-old kneeling on one's lap was not comfortable, and Gandalf winced. Frodo could empathize with the wizard having had the blonde child do the same to him many a time.

"I dream of running in fields with Mr. Fox," the boy replied as he cuddled his stuffed toy. "We talk in it lots!" he added.

"What…is it you talk of?" Gandalf prompted next.

"Mr. Fox talks abou' his sib'ings and the plants and how to talk right."

"Mr. Fox has siblings?" Frodo asked and the blonde nodded his head adamantly.

"Eigh' of 'em," he announced.

The teakettle was whistling so Frodo quickly moved to remove it from the fire before he responded. "We will have to collect his siblings then, won't we?"

When Frodo turned around, the blonde child was frowning and petting his stuffed toy sadly. "Lots of people hun' 'em."

"Ah, you misunderstood," Frodo reassured the despondent child. "I meant we should gather them together, so Mr. Fox isn't so alone. How does that sound?"

The blonde thought about it for a moment, even worrying his lip. "Mr. Fox is really lonely, an' he can't talk to 'em anymore…"

Frodo clapped. "Then it's settled."

Gandalf watched this exchange with a peculiar frown on his face that had nothing to do with a child's boney knees digging into his legs.

Gandalf was a quick study when it came to language and he noticed some similarities to some of the easternmost dialects of Middle Earth, but this was an entirely new language all the same. As such, he caught bits and pieces like: "Mr. Fox" had siblings, a connection to nature, and perhaps hunting? It was still a very new language to the wizard and most of the notes he had glanced over were conversational or questions. Count and numbers were not included; furthermore, the blonde child's speech was still garbled by his youth and developing speech patterns.

With so many missing pieces, Gandalf could only wonder. Was this "Mr. Fox" perhaps the Vala this child served? Was it the Huntsman, the Lord of Forests? The Great Hunter did have a sister (Nessa) and sister-in-law (Yavanna), so perhaps those are the siblings this "Mr. Fox" mentioned. But that begged the question: was this child even a Maia? Had Dôranna been sent to Oromë's beloved Middle-Earth when his missing Maiar never returned from the East?

If the Huntsman had indeed sent this child here, then perhaps he was meant to protect Frodo and hunt the evils that lurked around the hobbit. It would also explain how the child had "felt" him. Gandalf was positive the child's words were not mistaken; Dôranna said felt not heard Gandalf.

Gandalf watched Frodo usher the child back off to bed. Gandalf winced slightly when he spied the thick callouses on the boy's bare feet. He did not see any boots or shoes about the place, and human feet were far more delicate than hobbit feet. He should perhaps encourage Frodo to get the child proper shoes and perhaps even interact with other humans. They Grey Company were beginning to gather around the Shire for its protection, especially since Gandalf would soon be off in pursuit of Gollum. Perhaps they could help the child and begin to train him to pursue the evils of this world as a Maia of Oromë would?

…

3010

It had been over two years since Gandalf's visit. In that time, Frodo and Dôranna had fleshed out the dream-language. In fact, they had a decent lexicon and had written down the grammatical rules. When Frodo's friends visited, they would humor the human child by attending "lessons" taught by the blonde child. Pippin and Fredegar joked around during these "lessons," while Folco and Merry gave their most studious impressions. The "lessons" never lasted long due to Pippin and Fredegar distracting the boy, but it still filled Frodo with a sense of pride—even if he ended up laughing with tears in his eyes at the antics of his friends.

Today, father and son were going on a walk now that the last of the snow had melted and the fields were beginning to bloom. The blonde was struggling into his shoes and making the most amusing faces in his frustration. Frodo tried to stifle his laughter but clearly failed because his adopted son was now "glaring" at him with his arms crossed over his chest and shoes barely on. The glare was more of a pout, which made the glare all the more endearing.

"Why do I have to wear shoes? You don't!" The blonde pouted further.

"True, but it is still quite cold out and you don't have hair on your feet like me," Frodo explained gently as he kneeled beside his son and began to help him into his shoes.

"Because I'm human," the blonde said with another pout before he sighed. "Why can't I be a Hobbit like you, Papa?"

Frodo finally got the shoe on gave his son a fond smile. "Because you are who you are, Dôranna, and I wouldn't want you to be any different." He gave the blonde a kiss on the forehead and he gave Frodo a small smile in return.

Frodo straightened and clapped his hands. "Now, where is your cloak?" he asked the child who immediately perked up and grabbed his winter cloak from the hook. Frodo smiled and grabbed his own cloak before they headed out the door.

As they walked, Frodo quizzed the young blonde on the various plants they came across, who in turn asked Frodo to tell him the name of each plant in his dream-language. This eventually led to Frodo asking about the most recent of Dôranna's dreams and the tales of Mr. Fox.

Like most of the Mr. Fox dreams, the most recent one revolved around he and his siblings playing in the world and the lessons they came across. In previous dreams, Mr. Fox and his siblings usually encountered humans or other animals that varied in levels of hubris. The stories usually ended with the humans or other animals learning a humiliating lesson, but not this one. This one talked about how the little brother of Mr. Fox was sealed into a jar and left to waste away in loneliness and hatred for those who trapped him.

Dôranna was frowning as he told the end of the dream, and Frodo hugged his adopted son. Dôranna was Frodo's height now, but the boy still ducked his head under Frodo's chin. "Mr. Fox says humans are dangerous, nothing like hobbits…" the blonde murmured, and Frodo's heart broke.

"Yes, we are peaceful folk, but all who walk Middle-Earth are capable of good and bad. All of us can be dangerous given the right circumstances." He swayed in place as he held onto his son. "Besides, just because you were born human does not stop you from being a hobbit at heart. You certainly eat like us," Fordo teased, and Dôranna laughed.

When the child settled down, Frodo placed kiss on his head. "I love you," he whispered, and the blonde hugged him a little tighter.

"I love you too, Papa."

Frodo smiled and pulled back. "Shall we continue on?" he asked his son.

"Yeah! I want to get to the border of the Shire!" Dôranna exclaimed as he pointed off into the distance. Frodo chuckled and half expected his son to run off ahead, but, to his surprise, the boy just grabbed his hand and began moving them forward while swinging their hands.

The silence was companionable, but it did not last long. Dôranna could not stand silence, so after a few minutes he began to ask about the lands beyond the Shire. This led to a retelling of Bilbo's journey and then an attempt to translate the tale into the dream-language. They were nearing the western most border of the Shire and were stuck on trying to translate the Troll incident when Dôranna froze mid-sentence and stride. His eyes darted to the small wood before them. The child cocked his head to one side and had a curious look on his face.

Frodo was growing concerned until he heard a gentle song on the wind. The song of the elves leaving Middle-Earth. He smiled sadly.

"Papa?" Dôranna called back to him cautiously. "What is that?"

"Elves, like the ones Bilbo met in Rivendell and Mirkwood."

The boy's eyes widened, and he began to smile in excitement. He then immediately dashed off toward the woods. Oh goodness, that boy was going to startle the travelers! "Dôranna! Slow down!" Frodo called as he chased after his excitable son.

Unfortunately, the blonde child was much faster than Frodo and arrived at the group of elves well before Frodo. Frodo saw his son standing in the middle of the group and asking a million questions in a rapid fashion. Frodo panted with his hands on his legs as he tried to utter an apology in Sindarin.

One of the elves held up a hand and halted both Dôranna and Frodo's speech. He turned toward Frodo and nodded slightly. He had a slight smile on his lips as did most of the other elves traveling with him. "It is fine, Master Hobbit. Is this child in your care?" the same elf asked in his native tongue.

Frodo nodded and finally caught his breath. "Yes, this is my adopted son, Dôranna," Frodo replied in the same language.

Upon hearing his name, the child looked back to Frodo with wide eyes. "You can speak to them! I wanna learn! Please, Papa! Teach me?!" The boy was practically hanging off Frodo now who laughed at his son's antics.

"How did you come to have an elvish name?" another elf asked in Westron.

"I was struggling to find the right name when Gandalf suggested one," Frodo replied as he fondly smoothed down his son's hair.

"Mithrandir, Gandalf the Grey?" another asked in slight surprise. Frodo nodded while Dôranna looked confused by the title.

"Speaking of Gandalf, have any of you news of him?"

The elves looked amongst one another when a dark-haired elf came forward. "He is traveling with one of the Dúnedain. They are seeking some creature across Middle-Earth. That is all I know."

"What's that?" Frodo's ever-inquisitive son asked.

"The West-Men," Frodo translated with some confusion.

Another elf nodded. "Yes, they are the descendants of Númenor. Most are now rangers who hunt the evils across Middle-Earth."

Dôranna made an awed noise. "I wanna be one!" Dôranna said as he now began to bounce in place.

A couple of the elves chuckled in amusement, and Frodo smiled fondly at his son. As they settled down and Dôranna gave the amused adults confused looks, Frodo spoke. "We should not keep you. You still have some ways to the Grey Havens."

The elves all nodded but did not move to leave yet. "We have time enough to share news, if you like, Master Hobbit," the first elf to speak said.

"That would be most appreciated. I am Frodo Baggins and at your service," he said with a slight bow.

The dark-haired elf who spoke of Gandalf gave a look of recognition as did a few of the blonde elves in the company. "Are you by chance related to Bilbo Baggins?" one asked, and Frodo nodded.

"Bilbo went on this very long adventure!" Dôranna pipped in, never one to remain silent for long.

"Yes, he did," the dark-haired elf said in amusement. "I was in Rivendell when he and the company dwarfs arrived."

Dôranna made another awed sound and rushed to the elf's side and began to ask many questions of him.

"Dôranna, do not be rude," Frodo chided, and the blonde child looked down sheepishly. The elf only laughed.

"The curiosity of the young is in good nature. How about I tell you the story from my perspective while they discuss the boring matters of the world," the dark-haired elf said in amusement. Frodo smiled fondly but soon was drawn into a conversation with the other elves about the lands outside the Shire—all spoken in Sindarin. It seemed they were concerned with matters to the East and the dying of the lands out that way. It disheartened Frodo but he knew it was not his place to dissuade the elves from leaving Middle-Earth.

Before long, the sun had moved several paces across the sky, and, if Frodo and his son did not head home soon, they would be traveling in the dark. With final good-byes, they parted ways from the elves.

"I wanna learn that language you were speaking with them," the blonde announced after they had traveled some ways.

"Very well, I will teach you Sindarin just as Bilbo taught me," Frodo said with a fond smile. Dôranna smiled broadly, so broadly the marks on his cheeks stretched.

It was silent for a little longer before the blonde spoke up again, "Mmm…Papa?" he broached cautiously. Frodo turned his attention to his son. "What's the Grey Haven's?"

Frodo looked away sadly. "It is an Elvish port to the West."

"Papa, why are you sad?" Dôranna was holding onto Frodo's cloak near his elbow as they continued walking.

Frodo gave his adopted son a sad smile. "The ships there sail to the Undying Lands and leave Middle-Earth." When his son just looked confused, Frodo added on. "They never return."

"Oh…" the blonde said slowly. "So those elves won't ever come back?"

"No, they won't be coming back."

"That is sad," the blonde mumbled with a frown.

"It is their choice though, and we must respect that."

"Why would they want to leave?" Dôranna asked after a moment.

Frodo hummed for a moment and looked off in the distance as he thought not only of the elves, but also Bilbo. "We all must make our individual journeys someday, Dôranna. The reasons for our journeys may differ, but the choice is our own and the destination is a mystery.

"In the case of the elves we met today, they felt Middle-Earth was no longer their place to stay and they must join their brothers and sisters in the Undying Lands."

Dôranna hummed and nodded his head like he understood, but Frodo knew otherwise. Eventually the blonde would understand what Frodo meant, but he hoped it would not be any time soon.

TBC

A/N: Gandalf really has no idea what to make of Naruto. Obviously, we know he's not a Maiar, but Gandalf is still trying to figure things out. Oh, if you have not figured this out yet, I am using the books' timelines. I should be updating in a month. Stay safe ~ love, depressedchildren