Patches: Short Stories

Precious | LOTR

(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?"