Hi ya’ll! This is my first fan fic, and con crit is greatly appreciated. Also, if you have any ideas for it please let me know! Thanks! 😀

Disclaimer: everything’s Tolkien’s except Hilfin
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I hope you’ll find it to your liking here,” Bilbo said cheerily.

Frodo gazed up at the chandelier. Its many candles flickered from the draft caused by the open door.

“Would you like some tea?” Bilbo tried again. “Perhaps some cheese or cake?” Frodo looked at his uncle, knowing he was just trying to be nice, but right now Frodo didn’t want anything; just to go away somewhere and die. Why had Bilbo even offered to take him again? Oh right, he was the only one who cared. . .

“No thank you, Uncle,” Frodo answered quietly, shifting his pack. It was somewhat heavy, but he didn’t care. At least discomfort let him know he was still alive.

“Here,” his uncle said again, “Let me take those things, and I’ll show you to your room.”

Without much warning his things were taken from his hands and Bilbo was already halfway down the corridor. So much for the comfort of discomfort. Frodo walked after him.

As they went his uncle prattled on and on about this and that, and didn’t really even notice that Frodo’s attention had wandered, for his curiosity had bested him as he slowly fell behind more and more, peeking into every room they passed, or slowing down to glimpse the many books on the shelves or desks.

“There are many children in the area here. Samwise lives right next door as a matter of fact. He’s very close to your age. His gaffer, the one you met at the gate looks after him,” Bilbo continued. “It’s still a lovely day; perhaps you’d enjoy a nice walk?”

Frodo cringed. Couldn’t this hobbit close his trap for more than a minute?

“Here we are,” Bilbo suddenly announced, stopping at a large round door. “This will be your room. There’s a lovely view over the town square, but the window doesn’t open, it’s a little rusty. If there’s something you don’t like, just tell me and I’m sure we can find something else more suited to your liking.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” Frodo said, stepping into the room. Despite the largeness of the door, the room was actually quite small, though it was indeed big enough for Frodo. He’d never liked big rooms, or big houses for that matter. Though the latter he would have to get used to, since Bag End was the largest house on the block.

“Please, call me Bilbo,” Bilbo said. “I hate titles, they’re so impersonal.”

“All right, Bilbo,” he replied. Now hurry up and leave, he thought.

“Will you be going for a walk then?”

“Uhh, why not?” Anything to get you off my back.

“Excellent! I’ll see if I can get Samwise to go with you and show you around a bi–”

“That’s all right, Uncle. I’ll go alone. If you don’t mind?” he interrupted.

Bilbo looked surprised at his wish. “Fine lad, if you insist.”

Frodo nodded his head and his uncle turned to go, but a few steps away he turned back.

Frodo sighed and held the door, itching to close it but not wanting to be rude.

“One more thing, you might want to check out the Green Dragon. The Cottons are around your age, and I’m sure they’d love for you to come and play with them or go fishing.”

“Thank you, Uncle. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Uh, ‘Bilbo’, please,” Bilbo corrected.

“Yes, Bilbo. I apologize.”

“Oh, no need,” and with a wave of his hand the chatter box was gone. Frodo sighed with relief and closed the door.

Eyeing a lock beneath the knob he locked it shut, thankful for the sudden quietness the atmosphere had dawned.

He set his pack in the corner, not desiring to look at anything in it for the time being, and stared at his surroundings. There was a desk in the corner, a dresser, wardrobe, mirror, vanity, and the few shelves on the wall were decorated with a few of Bilbo’s nick knacks that gave the room a homey feel, as well as a small bookshelf and fireplace.

He sighed. It was nice, but already he was missing his old room and his always mischievous cousins. Perhaps a walk wasn’t so bad an idea. Bilbo was right, it was still a lovely day.

Frodo had been here a few times before, but not enough to really have gotten acquainted with anyone in particular, or have a certain favorite spot, although the lake was always nice.

As he made his way down the path, one of the Sackville Bagginses appeared. Frodo slumped. Oh great, he thought, what a way to begin a walk.

“Hello,” the Sackville Baggins said, and Frodo recognized him to be Lobelia’s nephew, Hilfin.

“Hello, Hilfin,” Frodo replied in a friendly tone.

“Now just because Bilbo’s adopted you, it don’t mean Bag End’s gonna be yours,” Hilfin immediately began.

Frodo cocked a brow. “I just got here, and Bilbo’s inside. If it’s Bag End you want I’m not the person you need to be talking to about it.”

Hilfin glared at him. “If this is your way of telling me to shut up I suggest you take it back or I’ll slug you!”

Frodo furrowed his brow. “Look, it wasn’t my idea to come here. Take it up with Bilbo.”

And with that he turned his back and continued on his way. A mistake. Hilfin took hold of his shoulder and spun him around, raising a fist. Frodo slammed his eyes shut. What a way to start your first day in a new place. Just then a voice stopped them both.

“You might not want to be doin’ that.”

Frodo cautiously opened an eye to find a sturdy hobbit beside them. His arms were folded across his chest threateningly.

“Mind your own business, Gamgee,” Hilfin growled, raising his fist again.

“When it’s me neighbor you’re about to hit, and my employer’s nephew, it is my business.”

Frodo stared. This blond headed hobbit must be Samwise, and now as he paid attention he recognized him from a few times before; the gardener.

Suddenly Bag End’s door opened and Bilbo appeared. The look on his face clearly suggested he was off somewhere important.

Samwise nodded his head toward him. “There’s the one you oughtin’ to be speakin’ to.”

Hilfin pushed Frodo angrily away with a snort and trudged done the lane away from them all.

“He’s just tryin’ to start trouble, as usual,” Samwise commented dryly, turning to Frodo. “That’s why he ain’t botherin’ to stop Mr. Bilbo.”

“Thanks,” Frodo said, fixing his coat.

“You’re welcome,” Samwise replied. “I’m Sam, you may remember me from a time before.” Frodo nodded. “I hear Bilbo’s adopted you; that bein’ why the Sackvilles are all in a tissy I suppose.”

“I suppose,” Frodo agreed.

“I’m on my way to the Green Dragon. Do you want to come?” Sam offered.

Frodo glanced around, wondering how many other relations were in the shadows waiting to tell him their opinion as well.

“All right,” Frodo agreed finally. So much for the lake.

“So are you findin’ it to your likin’ here?” Sam asked, offering conversation as they went.

“Well, considering I just got here and the welcoming party was Hilfin, no,” Frodo answered with a slight smile, and noticing Sam’s apologetic nature he quickly added, “But I’m sure I will soon enough.”

The sign of the Green Dragon neared their view and Frodo inquired, “Bilbo mentioned the Green Dragon too. Is this place very popular around here?”

“Oh yes!” Sam replied enthusiastically, “They have the best ale around anywhere! But that’s not why I go.”

“Really? Then why?”

Sam bit his lip, then stopped and turned to him. “Can you keep a secret?” he said, narrowing his eyes on Frodo’s.

A secret? Frodo thought. Already?

“Yes,” he answered slowly.

“Rosie Cotton; that’s why I go,” Sam whispered, a grin spreading across his face as they continued walking.

Frodo smiled mischievously. “Is she pretty then?”

Sam gave him a stupid look. “What do you take me for, Mr. Frodo?” he asked, and Frodo laughed for the first time that day.

“It was only a question Sam, no need to get hostile.”