Frodo scampered down the hill as fast as his small legs would carry him. Pausing a moment, he turned his curly head in the direction of old farmer Roggle’s shed. Ginger was still counting as loud as she could and her eyes were squeezed shut. Giggling to himself, Frodo raced through the field and ducked behind a well hidden patch of long grass. Biting his lip nervously, he peeked through a small opening to look at his surroundings.
The smells of the Shire during autumn hit him with a full blast as a gust of wind almost blew him over. He almost gave way, but quickly recovered his balance. Puffing up his chest to recover his pride, he sat down in the most dignified manner a five year-old hobbit could possibly muster.
After a few minutes (which is a very long time for a youngster), Frodo looked up again. Ginger was nowhere to be found, but familiar figure was walking up the road with a pipe in his mouth and a book in hand. Bursting from his hiding place, Frodo raced to the dirt road and flung his arms around his uncle Bilbo.
“Uncle Bilbo!” he shrieked with delight. The book flew from Bilbo’s hand as it jerked from surprise. Looking down at the child clinging to his waist, a smile brightened his wrinkled face.
“Whoa lad, don’t you remember any of the manners your mum has been teaching you?” He paused, before adding, “At least I hope she has.” Pulling back with a look of utter solemnity, Frodo nodded his head gravely.
“She has been teaching me my manners uncle. If I don’t use them often enough, then she sometimes gets the paddle off the wall.” The child craned his neck behind him to look at his bottom that had just been smacked the night before for putting a few ants in his father’s water last night. He still didn’t understand why they had been so angry, for he had actually had found it rather funny.
Bilbo chuckled softly and tousled the boy’s hair. A little brown-haired girl came running up, breathless and smiling.
“I found you!” cried Ginger. Frodo stuck out his lower lip and gave the most stubborn look he could give.
“No, I came out of my place to be with Uncle Bilbo, so it doesn’t count.”
“Yes it does, I found you!” she argued, pointing her tongue at him. Bilbo gave her the mind-your-manners look, which brought her tongue shooting back to its rightful place inside the mouth.
“Go find the others, girl, it seems as though Frodo has had enough of hide and seek,” he said gently. Ginger looked at him pitifully, but Bilbo ignored her and started walking towards Brandy Hall. “Frodo, if you’re coming, please try and keep up. I’ve had a long walk for a hobbit of my age and a nice cozy chair sounds like just the thing to relieve my tired feet.
As Bilbo walked down the road, he couldn’t help but notice that Frodo looked so much like he and his father did. His deep blue eyes and curly dark-brown hair truly made him a Baggins. But of course, the almost square jaw named him a Brandybuck. Bilbo sighed and continued on to the house. The boy was meant for something big, and it was one of those big feelings that always came true.
Author’s note: I know that this chapter is really short, but my beginning chapters are almost always teeny tiny. If you have ANY comments, PLEASE review and you’ll be my best friend for life (ok maybe not, but please do). Feel free to give any advice or to point out spelling or grammar mistakes.