(pre-fellowship)
The young hobbit lad whistled to himself as he trotted along the pathway, nose intent on finding the source of the delicious scent of ham that wafted in the air.
It was the day before his birthday party, and of course that meant lots of food was being prepared. It was to be a party far larger than any other hobbit child's party, as his birthday was on the same day as that of his relative, Bilbo Baggins.
Up to that very hour, he had been helping in the kitchen, till Mrs. Gamgee shooed him out for eating the cookie dough and encouraging young Sam to stick his finger in the jelly roll.
Now Frodo was wandering along the pebbled path with nothing to do but watch the butterflies while he followed his nose. He didn't have a care in the world.
Except...
Something niggled at him.
He didn't have a present for his uncle. Frodo's little mind had been somewhat preoccupied as of late, what with decorations and invitations and food to think about, and he had had no time to find a present worthy of his uncle.
Ever since he could remember, Frodo had heard tales of Bilbo's great adventures with a groups of dwarves, where he had killed a dragon (barely escaping with his life), and had obtained a mountain of gold, all of which, rumour had it, was hidden in the tunnels of Bag End. And so it was that not just any present would suffice. It must be a present worthy of his uncle's reputation.
Something gold.
But where would he find something made of gold? He had no money to buy a present with, and no way of making anything if he had gold to work with.
Maybe if he searched through the unfinished tunnels, he might find a piece of gold that nobody wanted. Surely he would find some there.
Face brightening, Frodo picked up his pace and ran quickly along the path, up the cobbled steps, and through the round green door.
Ten minutes later, he found himself on hands and knees, sifting through the dirt. It was dark in the tunnel, as his uncle had taken the lantern with him when he stopped digging, and Frodo strained his eyes for even a hint of something shiny.
Scrabbling blindly into a corner, Frodo bumped against a stack of tools that his uncle hand been working with, knocking them into a heap. He leapt to his feet and started hurriedly placing them back in order, only to stop when something caught his eye.
It lay half-buried in the dirt, but the little light that hit it seemed to reflect off it most wondrously.
Mesmerized, Frodo bent down and picked it up, brushing the dirt from its surface.
It was small, and round, and seemed to be made of gold, and it glinted alluringly as he held it in his palm.
It was a ring.
A simple, gold ring.
'This will be perfect!" thought Frodo, still staring at the beautiful thing. "It can be my birthday present for Bilbo."
He stood for a moment, admiring the even sheen of the metal. There was no need to hurry. Bilbo's birthday wasn't till tomorrow.
Faintly, Frodo heard his uncle's voice calling. Strangely disappointed, he sighed as he placed the ring in his pocket and trudged toward the light.
"Uncle?" he called as he emerged from the darkness. "Were you calling for me?"
"Yes, my lad," said Bilbo hurriedly. "Have you taken anything of mine? A small ring, perhaps?"
"No, uncle," said Frodo, frowning. Then his face brightened. "But I did find a ring in the tunnels!"
Bilbo turned on him, a ravenous look on his face. "Let me see!"
Frightened, Frodo's face fell, and he managed to squeak out a few words as his hand dug into his pocket for the trinket. "I was going to give it to you tomorrow, but since you lost your ring, I can give it to you now."
Bilbo thrust out his hand, and Frodo hesitantly dropped the ring into it.
Bilbo pulled back at once, peering closely at the the ring and whispering under his breath. Opening his own pocket, he dropped the ring inside, giving the pocket a reassuring little pat once it was in.
Then he turned on his nephew with a snarl.
"You may never touch this ring, do you hear? It is mine!"
"I'm sorry, I was just going to give it to you," Frodo protested weakly, tears welling up.
"My own! Nobody else's!" Bilbo shouted, face twisted so hideously, it bore almost no resemblance to the kind and gentle uncle whom Frodo knew.
It was all too much. With a sob, Frodo wheeled about and ran heedlessly down the path, nearly running into Mrs. Gamgee as she came up the walk.
The kind lady glanced back at him as she came up the path. "What was that about?" she asked Bilbo, setting her basket of food at her feet.
The hobbit gave no answer. He only stood silently as he watched his nephew run.
"Bilbo," Mrs. Gamgee prodded gently.
He shook himself, and glanced at her. "Oh, sorry. Hm, I need to go..." he said, gesturing vaguely in front of him.
<—>
Bilbo stumbled down the path, mind awhirl as he hurried after his nephew. How could he have been so heartless? The lad had found his ring, and he hadn't even thanked him, but had yelled at him for even daring to touch it.
That wasn't like him at all.
He must go and apologize.
As Bilbo entered the orchard, he stopped, taking in the beauty that surrounded him. The rows of trees were heavy with ripening fruit, and little squirrels chattered, their conversations the only sound breaking the silence.
Bilbo wandered through the trees, finding nothing. He was about to give up his search when he heard a sound filtering faintly through the thick autumn air.
It was Frodo.
The young lad was curled up at the bottom of a gnarled apple tree, sobbing his heart out.
Bilbo halted, feeling as though he had received a punch to the gut as he realized just how much he had hurt his nephew.
He had hurt his nephew. He had cared more for his possessions than he had for his nephew's heart. Hadn't he learned better, after his adventure with the dwarves all those years ago? Thorin had been obsessed with gold, even to the point of accusing his own kin of betraying him. In his madness, he had found treachery in every friend. Is that what Bilbo had become?
Tentatively, Bilbo moved forward and slid down to sit beside his nephew. The young lad tried to pull away, but Bilbo put a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Frodo?" Bilbo said, trying to find the words. "I... I'm sorry I yelled at you."
The sobs halted, and the boy sat very still.
"It was a beautiful present. Very beautiful, and it was so kind of you to think of giving it to me." The words were dry, but became easier as Bilbo forced them out.
Frodo peaked up from between his fingers.
"I should have thought before I spoke. Will you forgive me?" Bilbo said in a whisper, ashamed.
Frodo nodded, and silently wiggled under his uncle's arm, where he settled in with a sigh.
Wrapping his arms around his nephew, Bilbo sat back against the tree, and gazed up at the sky.
He would have to talk to Gandalf next time he saw him. He was shocked and a little scared to realize just how intensely he valued the ring he had found all those years ago. This afternoon he had acted almost the way the the creature Gollum had acted when Bilbo has encountered him on the very day that the ring first came into his possession.
Gollum had been filled with greed. And Bilbo realized that the sensation he had felt as he looked into his nephew's eyes and snarled at him was greed, or very nearly.
It terrified him.
What had become of him? He had never acted like this, not before his adventure with the dwarves...
His adventure. The same adventure on which he had found the ring that now lay in a pocket over his heart.
With a sudden burst of resolve, Bilbo pulled Frodo closer and rested his chin on the boy's dark curls, vowing never to let the ring come between Frodo and him again. He wouldn't let his love for the ring overpower his love for Frodo. He would do anything, anything at all to keep that from happening, to keep his nephew from yet more sadness.
Even if he had to get rid of the ring somehow.
Even if he had to destroy it.