Post by ae on Jan 22, 2006 11:06:51 GMT -5
A young hobbit named Frodo Baggins sat at his kitchen table in the homey hobbit-hole called Bag End. Outside, the sun was shining brightly and hobbit children were playing, but Frodo's spirits were not so high. In fact, he was absolutely miserable.
For his whole life, Bilbo had been there for Frodo. Ever since he had taken him in as a child. Maybe not there exactly, but Frodo always knew that he could just step out the front door and call and Bilbo would come trotting out from some friend's hobbit hole. Not that he did that often, but it was still comforting. Now, he was gone, gone to finish his book and find some peace, as he had put it. Frodo knew not where he went, but he just wished he could have gone with him.
But he knew he couldn't have. Not yet. Frodo loved the Shire. It would always be his home, no matter what... or so he thought. With a sigh, Frodo stood up and poured water from the whistling kettle into his cup. He walked over to the window where he had a view of the wide-spread garden, and he was lost inside his own thoughts.
For his whole life, Bilbo had been there for Frodo. Ever since he had taken him in as a child. Maybe not there exactly, but Frodo always knew that he could just step out the front door and call and Bilbo would come trotting out from some friend's hobbit hole. Not that he did that often, but it was still comforting. Now, he was gone, gone to finish his book and find some peace, as he had put it. Frodo knew not where he went, but he just wished he could have gone with him.
But he knew he couldn't have. Not yet. Frodo loved the Shire. It would always be his home, no matter what... or so he thought. With a sigh, Frodo stood up and poured water from the whistling kettle into his cup. He walked over to the window where he had a view of the wide-spread garden, and he was lost inside his own thoughts.