![]() ![]() Sam was fixing to ask who, but noticed how intensely his son was looking at Mr. You should be thinking about how far you can skip a rock on the pond of Bywater. "By stars, my son, why are you thinking of such things so far from now?" Sam got to his feet, and stood beside his son in front of the portrait - a hand resting on Frodo-lad's shoulder. One day I'll be the Master of Bag End, and I don't know if I can handle." "I mean, I'll be coming of age in a matter of years. "I don't mean myself" Frodo-lad waved his hands up and down his body. You'll be my height by your next birthday." It only felt like yesterday that Frodo-lad was born, and he could finally give honor to his Master by giving his firstborn son Mr. "I believe he was" Sam answered, remaining on the floor. Frodo about my age when he came to live here?" He finally pulled away from his Da, and stood, walking beside the fireplace. Tell your ole Da what's the matter."įrodo-lad stayed silent, only sniffling every once and a while. "My son," Sam said, pulling Frodo-lad against him. Shame flooded his eyes and he started to weep. "Is something the matter?"įrodo-lad's straight-lipped expression melted into a frown. Sam studied his face for several moments. He slipped a finger under his son's chin, lifting Frodo-lad's eyes to meet his. "Well, I'm sorry, my lad." There was a sad presence about his son, and Sam could sense it plainly. "Did I give you a fright, my lad?"įrodo-lad bowed his head. Frodo-lad turned, startled and dumbfounded. "Time for shut-eye, Frodo-lad" his Da's voice cut through his thoughts. Everyone had left or gone to bed, but he was still awake staring at that portrait…and wondering. He didn't care much for big celebrations it was only the family and close friends who came to celebrate. This night, it was Frodo-lad's twenty-second birthday. He loved the tales and knew them by heart. Frodo hadn't much cared for the drawing of himself, so it was set in an unoccupied room until Sam was cleaning out the room to have a nursery for his first child with Rosie.Įver since he could remember, Frodo-lad would stare at the portrait after his Da told him and his siblings the stories of the Quest of the Ring. The portrait had hung in the front room beside the fireplace for many years while old Bilbo still lived at Bag End, but was taken down and stored when the elderly hobbit disappeared, leaving the estate to his nephew. It truly was a melancholy but beautiful portrait. Bilbo had captured his nephew - chin resting on the heel of his hand - gazing dolefully out the kitchen window one winter's morning after breakfast. ![]() It was simple, drawn with pencil in black and white. Bilbo a long time ago when his nephew came to live with him around the time of Frodo's twenty-second birthday. It happened late one night that Frodo-lad sat on the floor of Bag End's front room staring intensely at the portrait of his namesake - Frodo Baggins. Writer note: This story didn't come out exactly how I wanted it, maybe because of how I worded things but oh well. ![]()
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