Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, I don't own Bag End, or the Shire, or Middle-Earth, or anything at all! I'm just writing this fic to entertain myself, and hopefully others. :)

A/N: Ok, this is my second fic, still Frodo angst. :) And… I know all of you are just going to want to smack me by the end of it. I already want to smack me, and this is only the first chapter. :) *Sigh* I know there isn't really any angst in this chapter, but there will be in future ones, starting with chapter two. Chapter one is just for setting up the rest of the story.

Again, there is *no* slash, profanity, violence, or anything else that may be considered not 'PG'. This fic is rated such because… well, you'll just have to wait and see.

And of course, tons of huge thankyous' to everyone who read and reviewed my first fic (which is still a work in progress). :) Thanks for the constructive criticism, thanks for taking the time to read it, and thanks for giving me motivation to write more. You guys are great! :) I hope you will continue to read my fics and enjoy them as much (or hopefully more) as the first one. :)

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Chapter One:

A tweenaged Frodo Baggins sat dutifully on the ground beside a tree-stump, using it as a desk, inkwell and paper spread out before him. His cheeks were rosy-pink from being exposed to the slightly chilled air, 'twas a good feeling though, not one of being truly cold- just one that reminded you how alive you were, and how much vitality the seasons of Middle-Earth could bestow upon its inhabitants. The autumn breezes whirled playfully about him tousling his curly dark-brown hair, and ruffling the edges of his papers, threatening to carry his quill pen away.

He closed his eyes for a moment; breathing in the crisp air and listening to the leaves rustle as they blew in circles, performing an invisible, endless waltz with the wind. The very smell of autumn raised ones spirits. The distinct, tangy odor of chimney fires, relit for the first time since the last frost. The bustling of woodland creatures, and shire folk alike, storing the last of their goods before winter set in.

He sighed; Frodo did so love this time of year. It was September, Halimath, 1st, year 1390 of the Shire Reckoning, and his uncle Bilbo had charged him with planning their birthday celebration, set for the 22nd of the month. It would be Frodo's 23rd, and Bilbo's 101st. And, Frodo's first since leaving Brandy Hall and coming to live with his uncle Bilbo at Bag End.

Frodo grasped a stray paper just as an odd gust came and picked it up, ready to blow it out of his reach. "Whoa, now!" he yelled to the sheet of parchment, "I'm not done with you, you're meant to go back home with me. It would, indeed, be a shame if I should have to start over again all on account of the wind!" He laughed, brushing the hair out of his blue eyes. "Now then," he thought, "If I ask Ferdinand to the party then he will surely bring Doderic, so I needn't write out two invitations." He paused, rubbing the feather of his pen against his cheek, in thought. "Holly, Petunica, and Daffodil would surely come as well." So much had been done in preparation of the party, and yet so much remained undone. Frodo sighed. Finishing guest lists, collecting last minute presents to give everyone. And of course, who could forget, the menu… that was always open to change, so long as it was something that could be had within the shire. Food. His stomach was growling; he had been out of doors since just after luncheon and hadn't brought a snack. Although, Frodo hadn't intended to stay gone as long as he had. The sun was just beginning to meet the horizon; dusk would be arriving soon, as the days were now much shorter than they had been. Frodo also knew that Bilbo would worry if he didn't arrive home shortly.

Frodo gathered his things, placing them carefully back into his small pack, and turned to head home.

He couldn't help smiling when Bag End finally came into view, it's round, green door and bright brass handle gleamed even now, in the twilight. Warm lamplight from the interior shined out welcomingly into the dusk. Frodo sniffed the air; it smelled of fresh baked bread and boiled mushroom dumplings. Bilbo had been busy while he was gone, cooking all kinds of delightful treats, he expected.

Frodo clasped the handle, turned it, and the cheerful green door swung open on well-oiled hinges. He closed it quietly behind him, and hung his cloak up on a peg behind the door in the foyer.

"Uncle Bilbo!" Frodo called, "Bilbo, I'm home!" He walked briskly into the kitchen, finding his uncle washing up the last of the cooking pans. The older hobbit spun about, favoring his young nephew with a smile.

"Oh my, Frodo, I'm glad to see you home!" Bilbo spoke, wiping his hands on a dry cloth. He walked over to Frodo, giving him a once over, making sure nothing was out of place. Bilbo loved his nephew dearly. Frodo was the closest thing to a son that Bilbo had ever had, and these past months with the tweenager had been nothing short of magical for the old bachelor. "Yes, my lad, dinner is ready." Bilbo embraced his heir fondly, and Frodo returned the gesture of affection. "I suspect- or at least I would hope- that *'twas* what you were going to ask me?" the older hobbit grinned.

Frodo laughed, "Why of course, Bilbo, I haven't eaten since luncheon!" He rubbed his stomach, smelling the wonderful food, eager to get a plate of it.

"Ah well, my boy, you shan't want for anything tonight!" Bilbo spoke, gesturing proudly towards the modest wooden table filled with delectable dishes.

"Bilbo, you know I never do around here!" Frodo replied, making his way over to the table, seating himself at his usual place.

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The evening wore on. Bilbo and Frodo both eventually got their fill of the wonderful food. Frodo shared his day with Bilbo, and in turn, Bilbo shared a tale, from his travels, with Frodo.

Frodo had known of many of these tales for most of his life, but now they seemed different somehow. Sitting in Bilbo's study or sitting room, actually being able to hold Sting. Eating at the same table that the dwarves had sat at all those years ago. It definitely brought a whole new light to the stories.

"But," Frodo protested, "How did you manage to remain unseen on the barrels, uncle Bilbo?"

Bilbo chuckled, "Now Frodo, my lad, a hobbit has his secrets." He finished, taking another puff of his pipe.

"Well," the tweenaged hobbit began, "Perhaps, someday, you can tell me how you did it?" Frodo suggested, smiling, "I would think that a skill such as that would prove valuable in certain situations!" Frodo laughed merrily.

"Ah, maybe someday, Frodo. Someday." Bilbo looked thoughtful, putting one hand in his pocket as he continued to puff on his pipe.

They sat for a few minutes in silence before Bilbo finally broke the spell, "Well, Frodo, we best be off to bed." Bilbo voiced, as he rose from his place by the hearth, "We've a lot more work to do before all of our party affairs are in place." The old hobbit smiled.

"Yes Bilbo," Frodo nodded, "I've nearly finished my gift giving list, and the invitations will soon be ready for delivery." He yawned. "Goodnight, Bilbo." Frodo gave a last smile to his uncle, before turning towards his room.

"Goodnight, dear Frodo." Bilbo replied, smiling as he walked down the hall towards his own room.

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Frodo entered his room, and stood just inside the door, reveling in the feeling of euphoria that he had been experiencing since coming to live Bag End and becoming Bilbo's heir. It seemed, that finally, things were going right for him.

"My room." Frodo thought, smiling to himself. He was trying to take in everything: the size of his new room- it was much larger than his old one at Brandy Hall; it was well furnished and clearly tended with great care. It had been so long since he was really cared for as an *individual* hobbit. Since his parents' death when he was 12, he had just been another one of the many hobbit lads that lived in Brandy Hall, merely a face in the crowd. Now, at last, he was someone's child again.

Frodo got into his bedclothes, and lay down on the soft bed. He was asleep within minutes.

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A/N: Ok, that's it for the first chapter. :) I hope you guys liked it! And like I said, there will be plenty angst in future chapters, I just had to set the scene for the rest of the story.

As always, please review and give constructive criticism! :)