Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: Samara Gamgee (#1937)
Author: Fallon307
Chapters: 3

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Archive: Tolkien
Category: Alternate Universe (AU)
Description: What if Samwise were Samara? How does this affect the quest? More importantly, how does this affect Frodo? (Not slash; FOTR-ROTK)
Published: 31 May 2005
Updated: 02 Jun 2005
Warnings: Violence; mushy Hobbit love
Type: Romance
Characters: Frodo;OC;Fellowship


Chapter 1 - Prologue: "You're Late!"

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize as Tolkien's.


*~*~*~*


Life in the Shire had never been better...at least, in Frodo Baggins’ mind.

Oh, he knew his uncle must have been looking for him, but he had managed to slip out of the Bag End earlier that morning. For days, all Bilbo wanted to worry about was the preparations for his upcoming birthday party, not to mention finishing his book. He had also weaseled his way into getting Frodo to help him as often as possible.

“Frodo, my lad! Get the door!”

“Frodo! Help me take this down from the shelf!”

“Frodo! Did you get the brew down to the field?”

“Frodo...Frodo...Frodo!”

He was getting exhausted of his own name!

He had finally resigned himself to a pleasure he hadn’t managed to enjoy in days: simply relishing time to himself.

This day found Frodo beneath a shady oak, his oak, where he’d always go to find some time to himself. Intently immersed in his reading, snuggled between the roots of the old tree, he let out a contented sigh, and flipped another page.

Time was lazily floating around him, but Frodo didn’t pay attention. He was too enamored of the perfectness of the whole situation. It was sunny and warm; it was quiet, only chirping birds keeping him company; he was reading his new book. The whole day was just one big, relaxing dream.

There was, however, one thing on Frodo’s young mind. Looking up from his book and into the boughs of the trees overhead, he sighed again, this time in restlessness. Why?

Gandalf was late.

Yes, the often-punctual old wizard was making Frodo practically shiver in anticipation due to his tardiness. It seemed like it had been eons since he’d last seen his uncle’s old traveling companion. He always had a new yarn ready to tell. And whether or not it was true, it was always interesting and full of details about the world that surrounded the Shire.

His musings were cut short however, by the low rumblings of a deep voice in song, Gandalf’s deep voice.

Recognizing the sound, Frodo leapt up from his seat on the ground, a boyish grin brightening his face.

Disregarding his book, he instantly vaulted in and out, around and through the shrubbery around him, towards the direction of the old folk song.

He recognized the humming in between verses, where the lyrics should have been, but were unknown. It seemed like he couldn’t get there to greet him fast enough.

He had barely run far at all, when he came to the edge of the small drop-off at the edge of the wood.

Approaching him in a cart drawn by a pony sat Gandalf the Gray, his pointed hat crooked atop his bowed head. The song he’d been humming was almost finished.

“You’re late!” Frodo charged playfully.

Gandalf’s cart came to an abrupt stop in front of him. The driver sat still for a moment before speaking sternly.

“A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins,” he said, “Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.”
Drawl
His gaze slowly turned to his friend’s nephew as he spoke. His mouth was set in a grim line, but seeing Frodo’s expression softened his own until their mock seriousness slowly faded into the joyous laughter they both failed to stifle.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Gandalf!” Frodo suddenly cried and bounded into the cart to embrace Gandalf. Letting out a surprised grunt at the force of the hug, the wizard soon chuckled mirthfully and pulled back to meet Frodo’s eyes.

“You didn’t think I’d miss your uncle Bilbo’s birthday?” he inquired, nudging Frodo’s cheek. Frodo smiled and seated himself next to his companion.

As Gandalf nudged the pony back into motion, he put his pipe between his lips again and enjoyed the scenery of Hobbiton up ahead. The Shire was truly the best place to go for a little peace, and sometimes, a little mischief.

“So, how is the old rascal?” he asked Frodo. “I hear it’s going to be a party of special magnificence.”

“You know Bilbo.” Frodo drawled with a shake of his head. “He’s got the whole place in an uproar.”

“Well, that should please him.” Gandalf chuckled through his teeth.

“Half the Shire’s been invited,” Frodo continued, “And the rest will turn up, anyway.”

The grin on Gandalf’s face grew at the thought of well-wishers disturbing Bilbo’s undoubtedly organized affair. He knew, however, that even if all of the Shire turned out for it, it would please Bilbo all the more.

“To tell you the truth, he’s been a bit odd lately. I mean, more than usual.” Frodo said, thinking of how distant his uncle had become, pouring over old books and maps, barely enjoying the outdoors anymore. He didn’t notice the slight concern showing on Gandalf’s face.

“He’s taken to locking himself in his study.” he added. “He spends hours and hours pouring over old maps when he thinks I’m not looking. He’s up to something.” he muttered, like an afterthought.

Gandalf listened warily. ‘So the old imp’s finally ready.’ he mused. ‘I wondered when he would get to it.’ Humming lowly in his throat to feign ignorance, he kept his eyes on the road ahead. He didn’t want to alert Frodo to anything.

He was too late for that.

“All right, keep your secrets!” Frodo snapped lightheartedly, a smirk on his face. “But I know you have something to do with it.”

Frodo didn’t miss the look of ‘innocence’ on Gandalf’s face. “Good gracious me.” the magician mumbled. Frodo was a bright one, he knew, and he would not be able to hide Bilbo’s secret for much longer.

‘Though I wish I could have.’ he thought.

Frodo kept speaking, with just as much laughter in his spirits as before. He was too glad to see Gandalf to worry about his not-so-important secrets.

“Before you came along,” he accused, “we Bagginses were very well thought of.”

“Indeed.” Gandalf said, not paying too much attention, his mind busy on matters of Bilbo and his departure.

“Never had any adventures or did anything unexpected.”

Gandalf’s attention was suddenly on Frodo again, as he jumped to reclaim his honor. “If you’re referring to the incident with the dragon, I was barely involved!” he defended himself. “All I did was...give your uncle a little nudge out of the door!”

“Well, whatever you did, you’ve been officially labeled a disturber of the peace.” Frodo chortled as he saw the eyes of several Hobbits they passed leering at Gandalf.

Gandalf didn’t respond, but he did notice a grumpy couple ogling him rudely as he drove past. He ignored this and continued down the road.

A group of little children formed as he drove ran to catch him and bid him welcome, despite their parents’ objectionable opinions of the old wizard. They cheered out his name and cried “Fireworks! Fireworks, Gandalf!”

Too charmed by the children’s antics, he pretended to ignore their cheers for his famous display and drove on.

The children watched ruefully as he drove on, moaning discontentedly.

Suddenly, a burst of color and light erupted from the back of the covered cart, creating a loud and pleasing display. The youngsters shouted gleefully and clapped their hands in praise. Even some adults joined in the revelry. Both Gandalf and Frodo smiled at having pleased them.

Frodo decided it was best to let Gandalf get on his way. He sprung from the cart and looked up to his old mentor. “Gandalf, I’m glad you’re back.” he said.

“So am I dear boy!” Gandalf reciprocated. Frodo then continued down the road to lower Hobbiton, waving back to him, a grand smile on his face.

“So am I.”

With that thought, he plowed down the other direction and headed to see his old Bilbo.

Frodo, however, had another destination in mind. He was off to oversee the preparations for the evening festivities. He’d asked Sam to join him that afternoon, and was sure she’d be there by now.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what tricks Bilbo had up his sleeve for that night.

*~*~*~*~*

A/N: Yes, I know. I'm at it again without finishing the one I started yet. But hey! This popped into my head while I was suffering writers' block! Sorry about the lack of updates. I'm trying, but there's a lot happening lately. Grandma's in a nursing home now, we're remodeling the house....okay, I don't need to bother you with my personal problems. Just take my word for it, 'kay?

Laters!


Chapter 2 - Chapter 1: "A Present from the Gaffer"

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize as Tolkien's.

*~*~*~*~*

The square was in an uproar with activity. Mischievous were abound, preparing meals, decorating, and so forth.

To Frodo’s eyes, all looked well, just as Bilbo would want it to look.

He couldn’t help the silly smile on his lips at the thought of Bilbo’s party, and what was liable to go on there, later.

There would be dancing and storytelling galore; laughter and excitement; giddiness and probable pranks from the more puckish members of Hobbiton. Several, if not all, of the guests would become intoxicated by the Gaffer’s specially brewed ale.

The Gaffer! That reminded him! Sam, where was she?

Frodo hurried down the incline to reach the site. It was near twilight, already, and the party started in no less than an hour. If he was going to find Sam, it had be now!

Bumping into a few Halflings he did not know, he hurried to find the Gaffer, who he knew was there. Finding him in the western corner, brewing another barrel of his ale, Frodo slowed his pace and stopped just at the entrance of the cloth tent. Sam’s father looked up to see him, out of breath and flushed.

“Steady on there, boy!” he said. “What’s yer hurry?”

“I’m looking for your daughter Sam, sir.” Frodo said, standing up straight and rubbing his neck.
“Have you seen her?”

The Gaffer let out a true laugh. “Well, boy-o,” he said, “ye just missed ‘er! She just ran up to the Bag End to deliver somethin’ to yer uncle! Jest came from helpin’ Miss Rosie clean out the Green Dragon!” he finished with a delighted chuckle.

“Oh. Thank you!” Frodo said suddenly. With no farewell, Frodo vaulted off again, leaving the Gaffer to shake his head and continue to chuckle as he watched the ale brew.

“The boy’s gettin’ cracked as his uncle!” he chortled to himself as he stirred.

*~*~*~*~*

There was a knock on the round door of the Bag End, disturbing Bilbo Baggins and Gandalf and their deeply serious conversation.

“Oh, not again!” Bilbo grunted in irritation. Those blasted relatives never gave him any peace.

Springing up from his seat, he marched to the front door, ready to tell off whoever it was that upset his peaceful reunion and get them to leave him alone!

*~*~*~*~*

Samara waited patiently outside the door to Bag End, a gift basket on her arm, rocking back and forth on her feet and humming an old tune. She was already dressed in her party clothes. She expected Mr. Bilbo to answer soon, and welcome her. He always seemed to like her, that Bilbo.

Her Gaffer told her he had been expecting this little delivery for some time: the recipe for his best batch of ale, along with a few other knick-knacks. She was not told why he’d requested it, only that Bilbo would no doubt use it in the future.

“No! No!”

The shout from behind the door startled her. She stumbled back a couple of steps.

“Whoever you are, we don’t want any more visitors today! Run along, now!

The previous shock on her face was replaced by a merry smile as she realized Bilbo’s disposition.
She stifled a giggle and simply said “Mr. Bilbo, it’s me, Samara! I’ve come to deliver something from my Gaffer!”

Inside, Bilbo let out a relieved breath and opened the door. He smiled when he saw Samara’s rosy cheeks and dazzling smile.

“Sam, dear! How have you been?”

“Just fine, sir.” she replied.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that, child.” he apologized. “It’s just all of these confounded well-wishers! Can’t have a moment’s peace without one of them coming and knocking! Especially those Sackville-Bagginses!” he added to her in a whisper.

“It’s all right, Mr. Bilbo. I understand.” Sam amended. I have something for you. A present from my Gaffer and I.” she said, passing him the handbasket.

“Oh, isn’t that delightful!” he stated, his smile broadening as he took the basket from her stretched arm. “Thank you, my dear.”

His eyes skimmed over the contents briefly. A small book, a bottle of what looked to be ale, and some roses, likely grown by Samara, herself, were what he found.

“Oh, this is lovely!” he commented.

“You’re quite welcome, Mr. Bilbo, sir.” Sam cheerily said.

“Eh, would you like to come in for a spot of tea, lass? I’ve just got some finished.” Bilbo invited.
Sam suddenly grimaced. “Sorry, Mr. Bilbo, sir. I can’t. My Gaffer wants me back at the square as soon as possible.”

Bilbo kept his kind smile. “That’s alright. Maybe another time, then.”

“Of course.” Sam said, smiling once again. “I’ll see you later, Mr. Bilbo!” she called as she walked back to the gate.

“Good-bye, Sam!” he called back, waving to her as she strode down the pathway to the square.

*~*~*~*~*

Bilbo closed the door with a sigh and retreated back to his dining room..

He sat the basket down on his desk as he re-entered. He knew he was going to miss many things about the Shire when he left, including young Sam. She was such a delightful young lady, well-mannered and cheerful. And she and Frodo were such good friends.

Yes, he could count on Sam to be there for Frodo when he left.

“Well, Gandalf,” he said, “Frodo’s not the only one I’ll miss around here.”

“I know.” Gandalf sagely replied. “The both of them would have gone with you, if you’d asked it of them.”

“I know...but in my heart, I think that Frodo and Sam are still in love with the Shire. You know, I always thought I’d like to see the day the two of them made something more of that friendship. They do seem to fancy each other.”

“Really?” Gandalf fairly mumbled, fingering his pipe. He hadn’t noticed such an attraction between the two. But, then, he hadn’t visited the Shire in a good while.

“At least, I believe so. Frodo’s always so positive when Sam’s around. He even helps her with the gardening. Yes, I think Frodo has developed a bit of a soft spot for young Sam.”

Gandalf smiled ruefully. He knew Bilbo’s mind was indeed getting older, and his fanciful thinking was taking its toll. He’d made a wise decision in leaving the Shire.

Aye, it was just Bilbo’s old imagination.

*~*~*~*~*

Outside, Sam had just passed the market and was halfway back to the square. The sun was nearly down, and the entire street seemed deserted.

‘Probably already at the party.’ she mused. There were always several early birds arriving at any grand party in the Shire.

Sam had been looking at her bare feet in her pondering, not paying attention to the road ahead, when she heard her name being called.

“Sam!”

That voice was unmistakable. Frodo Baggins. Her head snapped up to attention.

Sure enough, Frodo was rushing up the road to meet her, a gentle grin on his face. His dark curls bounced and his eyes shone as he continued uphill. Sam thought he looked beautiful. How could she not? She’d been fancying Frodo since she was a tween, herself.

Her heart leapt up to her throat as he came closer. She quickly tried to swallow it back down and re-gather her thoughts. She needed to have her intelligence intact to be able to talk to Frodo.

No sooner had she accomplished her feat, than Frodo was standing right in front of her, slightly out of breath. “I’ve been looking all over for you!” he said.

Sam was surprised, but tried not to let it show. “For me, Mr. Frodo?” she asked innocently.
Frodo smiled. Sam could be overly demure at times. He wanted her to be able to talk to him like he was her friend, not her employer.

“Yes, you, silly!” he laughed. Sam couldn’t help but smile at him shyly.
Daze
“I was hoping to catch you before the party started. By the way, the square looks wonderful!”

“Th-thank you, Mr. Frodo.” she muttered, glancing at her feet once again.

“Sam,” Frodo raised his brows and shook his head, “how many times do I have to say it? We’re friends! Just call me Frodo!”

“Alright, sir...I-I mean Frodo.”

Frodo smothered a sigh. She’d still need some time to get used to it, he supposed.

“Well, come on, then.” he changed the subject. “Let’s head down to the square. The party’s already begun.”

“Already?” Sam asked, dazed. “But Mr. Bilbo’s not even there, yet!”

“You know how some people are, Sam.” Frodo told her. “They just can’t wait to have their fun!”

As soon as he’d spoken, a flowering orange light burst overhead. The fireworks were just beginning.

Quickly, Frodo grabbed Sam by the hand and began to pull her back towards the gala in the field.
“Come on!” he cried. “Let’s go!”

Sam obediently followed him, still reeling over the fact that Frodo Baggins was holding her hand.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: Whoo! I'm on a roll, lately! Expect another chapter up really soon!


Chapter 3 - Chapter 2: "Eleventy-One Years"

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize as Tolkien's.

*~*~*~*~*

The party was in full swing by the time they’d arrived. Bilbo was greeting the myriad of guests pouring in, some with more courtesy than others. Frodo recognized that Bilbo remembered who he had and hadn’t invited.

He hurriedly pulled Sam out to the center of the dance. Letting go of his hand, Sam stopped near a table and watched as Frodo continued to run and then begin to join in the dancing, himself.

She laughed gaily at his merrymaking antics. He wasn’t a particularly good dancer, but he was having fun, and that made his dancing all the more enjoyable.

He danced with several young lasses on the floor, while Sam sat down on a bench nearby and clapped in time with the music.

Every so often, when he danced with a pretty young girl, Sam would try to squash down her jealousy, hoping Frodo didn’t fancy the girl he was dancing with.

She watched for a good half-hour until Frodo left his last partner and sat down next to her. She glanced at him narrowly, then continued her clapping to try and hide the blush creeping up on her cheeks.

Frodo watched her, seemingly uninterested in his approach, but smiled, nonetheless. She seemed to be enjoying the music, but she hadn’t danced at all.

“Come on, Sam!” he shouted over the sound of the crowd. “Won’t you dance with me?”

Sam was momentarily stunned by his request. She looked at him sharply, and saw his playful grin. ‘Is he out to embarrass me?’

Returning her gaze to the mass of revelers, she declined coyly. “No...I-I think I’ll just wait for a slower song.”

Frodo looked as if he didn’t believe she would dance at all. Sam swiftly stood from her seat. “I need an ale.” she declared, clipped.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Frodo laughed, pulling her back by her hand and sweeping her back into the herd of people.

He quickly drew her into a dance, circling her in a speedy waltz, in and about and around the other couples on the work in the garden.

Albeit their steps were a bit clumsy at times, Sam couldn’t deny that she’d been having more fun than ever. She’d often dreamed of being in Frodo’s arms, though not always dancing with him.

She suddenly felt inadequate. She didn’t dance often, and was just following his steps. But she kept smiling and giggling along with him, the movements making her giddy.

Frodo was having similar thoughts, at the time. Of all the ladies he’d danced with that night, Sam was the most fun to be with. The other girls chattered incessantly about his uncle’s adventures and how lucky he was to be related to Bilbo. Others even asked about how he thought they looked that night.

Sam didn’t talk about very much, but she did smile and laugh a lot, a sure sign she was enjoying this as much as he was. She occasionally tripped on his feet, and he on hers, but that only made them laugh more!

They danced several dances together, some slow, and some quick in pace. Frodo continued to look only at Sam, noting things he hadn’t noticed before.

Her hair was a lovely golden brown color, and he noted a bit of red in her roots. Her eyes were blue, much like his, but somewhat gray. She had a sprinkling of nearly transparent golden freckles across her nose and peachy cheeks.

Her dress was a sage green color, the bodice somewhat tight-fitting. A linen blouse lay underneath it, bunched at her elbows, embroidered with ivy. She even had pink ribbons and small flowers laced in her thick curls.

She looked beautiful. He’d never thought of her as beautiful before. Just pretty, the pretty Gaffer’s daughter that worked in the garden for Bilbo and himself.

Tonight, however, she seemed to glow, especially in her smiles. He supposed he just hadn’t seen it before.

Frodo’s eyes were intent on her face, Sam noticed. She wondered what he was thinking, and why he didn’t even look anywhere else. The song had slowed to an old folk ballad, and the two swayed together in the drowsy flute’s melody.

She could feel her face heating up, and tried to lower her eyes so he wouldn’t mark it.

Too late, she realized, when he tipped her chin up with his finger, and looked at her again.

The tender moment was broken when Bilbo suddenly grabbed Frodo from behind.

“Sackville-Bagginses!” he exclaimed. “Quickly! Hide!”

Frodo followed his uncle through the crowd, Sam trailing them both from behind. Otho and Lobelia were sourly pushing their way through the crowd to catch them.

Reaching a nearby tent, the two Bagginses stopped. Bilbo covered his face with his jacket, hoping to hide the both of them. Sam stood in front of them in an attempt to help shield them.

The Sackvilles paused next to the tent, absorbed in finding Bilbo. Seeing only the Gamgee girl, they decided to move on, their scowls firmly planted on their faces.

Sam let out the breath she’d been holding as the two left earshot. A confrontation with the Sackville-Bagginses would not have ended well, she knew.

She tapped Bilbo’s shoulder lightly. “They’re gone.” she murmured to him.

Bilbo and Frodo let out a collective sigh. A smile suddenly appeared on Bilbo’s face. He patted Frodo’s shoulder, somewhat awkwardly.

“Oh, thank you both.” he said. “You’re so good to me.”

He suddenly became serious. “I’m very selfish, you know. Yes, I am. Very selfish.” he added at Frodo’s gaze. “I don’t know why I took you in after your mother and father died, but it wasn’t out of charity. I think it was because, of all my numerous relations, you were the one Baggins that showed real spirit.”

Sam seemed bemused by Bilbo’s little soliloquy. Frodo grinned, however, and gave Bilbo a strange look. “Bilbo, have you been at the Gaffer’s home brew?”

Sam snickered at the comment, knowing her father’s brew was quite powerful stuff. Bilbo looked a bit dumfounded by the question. “No!...well,” he said, “yes...but that’s not the point!” he quickly rectified.

“The point is, Frodo, you’ll be alright.”

This struck Frodo as odd for a reason. True, his uncle was odd, by nature, but why would he tell him this? He looked at Sam. She only shrugged her shoulders and bit her lip. Bilbo took another sip of his ale and was off, leaving the two alone once again.

Frodo decided to forget his uncle’s words, for now, and extended his hand to the miss in front of him. With a grin, he asked, “Shall we return to the dance floor, milady?”

Shaking her head in mirth, she placed her hand in his and curtly replied “We shall, milord!”

The two shared a smile and proceeded to walk back to the floor.

A particularly loud crash resounded in the sky above them, interrupting.

Gasps were heard from all over. Looking up, along with everyone else, the two saw a bright flash of red light. Just fireworks, they thought, as they clapped for the display.

The lights suddenly clustered together to take the terrifying form of a dragon. The cheers died down, and a panic ensued. People ran in all directions as the figure came to swoop down towards them.

Frodo pulled Sam along with him as he called for his uncle to watch out for the dragon.

“Dragon?” Bilbo questioned as Frodo and Sam reached him. “Nonsense!” he said, not paying attention to the stampeding around him. “There hasn’t been a dragon in these parts for a thousand years!”

His statement was cut short slightly, as all of the Hobbits hit the ground, Frodo pulling Bilbo and Sam with him. Frodo barely noticed that he had pulled Sam atop him, in his hurry.

The dragon flew over the mass, narrowly missing them before flying upwards again. Eyes peered up from everywhere just in time to watch the dragon burst in an array of numerous colors, creating a mural in the sky.

Cheers even louder than before sounded from the crowd, as they began to rise from their prostrate positions.

Sam and Frodo had just recognized their positions, and hesitated slightly to right them. It was Frodo’s turn to blush madly. Not only because he was in a rather compromising position with Sam, but because he found he liked the feeling and didn’t really want to get up just yet.

Sam, however, quickly pushed herself off of Frodo and righted her skirts. If she were ever able to look him in the eye again, she’d still never be able to function her tongue properly.

Frodo stood soon after, watching her in her fluster. He, too, was embarrassed, but tried to cover it as best he could.

“Are you all right, Sam?” he asked nervously.

Knowing she could no longer avoid his eyes, she looked at him timidly and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

While Masters Meriadoc and Peregrin were serving their punishments, Bilbo had since settled himself on the stage, and nearly all present were calling for him to make a speech. Sam and Frodo clapped and called, as well, now having an excuse not to look at each other.

Bilbo’s chipper mood seemed to brighten the entire square.

“My dear Bagginses and Boffins!” he cried. This earned quite a few cheers from the respective clans.

“Tooks and Brandybucks!” he continued.

More cheers.

“Grubbs!” Cheering. “Chubbs!” Cheering.

“Hornblowers, Bolgers, Bracegirdles!” Cheers and applause resounded after each one.

“And Proudfoots!”

“Proudfeet!” one of the said kinsfolk amended.

This earned some laughter, lowly, Frodo and Sam included. Bilbo just waved him off, and continued, slurring a couple of words.

“Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday!”

“Happy Birthday!” the crowd sang out even more audibly than before.

Bilbo gave them a half-smile, then softened his expression a bit. “Alas,” he said, “eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable Hobbits!”

Yet again, the crowd cheered.

Bilbo continued his monologue, seemingly ignoring this. “I don’t know half of you as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you as well as you deserve!”

This confused several people, including Frodo, who looked at Bilbo strangely. Not many knew how to take his last statement, mainly because most didn’t even know what it meant.

On the sidelines, Gandalf watched Bilbo closely. The old rascal was up to something, that’s for sure. When he’d said ‘a night to remember’ he knew by the glint in his eye that Bilbo had meant it.

Bilbo slowly began to finger his vest pocket. “I, uh...” he started, but paused for a moment. His lips moved, as though he were murmuring to himself. He slipped something out of his pocket.

“I regret to announce that this is the end!” he called out, eyeing a few individuals in the crowd, his eyes searching out for one person, specifically.

“I am going now...I bid you all a very fond farewell!”

His eyes found Frodo and Sam, standing next to each other, not too far from the back. Bilbo could have sworn he felt tears burning his eyes at the thought that he’d never see them again. He silently wished them well, and then spoke again.

“Goodbye.”

He slipped the ring on his finger, and was suddenly gone from all sight.

*~*~*~*

I told you it'd be real soon! Expect another one soon, too!
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