Written for Marigold's Challenge #6

Title: Rain on the Downs

Author: Breon Briarwood

Rating: G

Summary: Frodo has an adventure in the rain

Disclaimer: Don't own them, never have, never will.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rain, rain,

Again.....

Go away,

Please!

Come again some other day

Frodo sat huddled in his shelter, no more than a depression in the cliff face, and listened to the rain pound down around him. He felt he would go mad if he couldn't get the silly childhood song out of his mind. For three days straight it had rained - across the water, through the forests, over the hills littered with jagged rocks and still the rain came.

As much as Frodo wanted to be dry, he didn't truly want the rain to end. He realized the rain offered some protection, however meager, from prying eyes. That was all that mattered now. He couldn't risk being seen, couldn't risk drawing the attention of the enemy's eye.

Creeping forward, he left the relative safety of his shelter. His ears picked up a sound that could have been thunder, or could be the enemy's forces coming his way. Knowing he must not be found, he scurried forward and hid behind a boulder in the path. Frodo peered around the rock and found a troop of orcs headed toward him, led by the biggest orc he had ever seen. He pulled back and hunched down under his cloak, waiting for them to pass, hoping the elvish material would disguise him in his hiding place.

When the way was clear, he continued on. Frodo slunk forward, keeping to the shadows, using the hills and boulders for cover, relying on his cloak when there were none. He made his way into the very heart of the Black Land and there before him lay his destiny: Mt. Doom and the enemy's golden treasure.

But there, just beyond, the enemy waited, looking over the land as if searching for him.

"Now for it," he thought, "mustn't make a sound, no sudden moves, nothing to draw the enemy's attention."

The heat was nearly unbearable as he drew near the fiery inferno. He reached out, hands clasped around the treasure.

"Mine," he thought.

Time seemed to stand still as the Great Eye of the Enemy turned toward him. Shrieking in pain he released his hold on the treasure and watched it fall... falling.... SPLAT!

"FRODO BAGGINS! What do you think you are doing?"

"I'm sorry, Mama. I was just playing 'Adventure' " he sobbed, holding his burnt fingers.

"Here now, let me see your hands. You're lucky I didn't just take that pie out of the oven or it would be much worse. Let me put some salve on this, then it's off to your room till supper. And no dessert for you tonight, Frodo."

"But Mama . . . "

"Go!"

"Stupid rain" he muttered.

--End--