A/N: This is a story exploring a few ideas that may have happened to Frodo after the Travellers returned from the Quest. The rating is mainly for violence as I tend to get a bit graphic in dreams and memories of the Quest. All reviews and criticisms are appreciated.

This story was birthed from Larner with her story, Between Green Door and Gold Ring.

All rights to Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I don't own the characters, I just enjoy wondering about them.

Prologue: The Letter

17 Thrimidge, 1420

"Here's the mail, Mr Frodo," announced Sam Gamgee, as he flourished a handful of letters, passing them through the open study window to Frodo Baggins.

Frodo chuckled at his friend's antics as he thumbed through the pile of letters. "Are you aware that several of these are addressed to you?" he queried.

"Why don't that surprise me," the gardener muttered. He eyed the stack in Frodo's hand with some curiosity. "Anythin' interstin'?"

"Mmm, probably a few," Frodo decided as he handed back every letter but two through the window.

"Well...that's a sight more than I were expectin'," Sam mumbled in surprise. Frodo chuckled at the flustered look and Sam glanced over at the mail in his master's hand. A frown crossed his face. "It don't seem right somehow as I should get more mail'n you," he said.

"Well, I, for one, am glad to see it," Frodo smiled, breaking the seal on his first letter.

"Why? There's no reason as any gentlehobbit'd be writin' to me," Sam said.

Frodo looked slightly indignant. "No reason?" he huffed. "What about your forestry work, and the holes you've restored? What about the hobbits who have roofs over their heads because of your hard work? The people of the Shire have every reason to be grateful to you, Sam Gamgee, and, really, there 'is no reason' that you would think otherwise."

Sam frowned at his own words being thrown back at him and muttered, "Oh, I can think of a few." He glanced at Frodo's two letters. "And if'n that's the case then where's all your mail, Mr Deputy-Mayor? Shire-folk ought to be at least twice as grateful to you, fundin' all th' restoration, sortin' th' mess out, and seein' as them Ruffians were stopped. Not to mention your other activities."

Frodo frowned at him. "May they never know of my 'other activities'," he muttered under his breath, but then added in a slightly louder tone, "I'm sure that a large pile is gathering in Michel Delving. After all, I have been there for the last two weeks for some odd reason." He gave Sam a meaningful smile and Sam blushed. The gardener had finally married his long-time sweetheart exactly seventeen days ago and right after the wedding Frodo had left for Michel Delving to give the new couple some privacy. He had actually arrived back at Bag End only three hours ago.

"Aye, that's true," the gardener agreed, "And Rosie and I are right grateful for it. But we're glad as you're home, too. Seems as it's been - quieter without you here."

"Quieter?" Frodo snorted. "How could it be more quiet? I'm the quietest one in this hole!"

"Aye, but it was," Sam insisted. "Can't put my finger on it, it just...was."

Frodo shrugged at this in bemusement and muttered, "And with a new bride, too," Then he began to examine the letter from Michel Delving. Blushing again, Sam tucked his own mail into a jacket pocket and returned to the hedge he had been trimming, but he kept a furtive eye on his master.

Frodo placed the Michel Delving letter on his desk while mumbling something about answering it soon, flipped over the other envelope, and then his face drained of colour.

"Mr Frodo?" Sam queried, worried at the sudden silence. Wordlessly, Frodo held up the letter. A black-sealed letter. Sam's face filled with horror and he scrambled through the open window to his friend's side.

"It's not..." Sam murmured.

"No...no, of course not," Frodo swallowed. "Elves don't know our customs. They couldn't possibly know that a black seal means-" He stopped, unwilling to go on.

"B'sides," Sam added, his own voice unnaturally high-pitched, "I'd think as they'd send for you if'n he were that bad off."

The two hobbits stared at the ominous little symbol of death. With trembling hands Frodo broke the seal and opened the letter. He immediately turned to the signature and broke into a smile of sheer relief. "It's not Bilbo," he reassured Sam. He then began to peruse the letter and Sam watched as the brief look of joy vanished from his face. He began absent-mindedly fingering the white jewel that Queen Arwen had given him. Pain and sorrow etched themselves across the hobbit's face and he suddenly looked far, far older than his fifty-some years. Sam found that he was holding his breath and forced himself to exhale.

Finally Frodo's arm dropped and he stared unseeing across the study. Sam could stand the tension no longer.

"Mr Frodo?"

Without looking at Sam Frodo handed him the missive and said woodenly, "It's Lobelia."

-o-o-o-

translation:

Thrimidge - May