It is not unusual among writers and readers of LOTR fan fic to have an apoplectic fit at the thought of straying so far from canon as to have Frodo

1. Not sail into the West.

2. Stay in the Shire and marry a worthy Hobbit-lass and ..

3. Live a good long life ’happily till the end of his days’.

Readers will cry! No! It will be a Mary Sue! No! It is NOT Tolkien canon. No! Frodo is too wounded by his hurts during the quest to live for long in Middle-earth. And.. No! This will bollox up everything!!! What about Sam becoming Mayor and having those 13 children with Rosie? What if Frodo goes and has kids of his own? And what if they inter-marry with Sam’s kids and...NO! There goes the whole lineage of the Gamgees and Fairbairns and the whole dang Shire!

But an author here dares to say.....

None of those things have to ..necessarily... happen. Not.. well.... entirely.

The author hates Mary Sues. A nice loving story does not have to be a Mary Sue and it isn’t going to be.

Tolkien COULD have let Frodo stay in the Shire and feel well enough to go on and have a fairly happy life. Hobbits ARE ‘amazing creatures’ after all and very ‘hard to kill.’

And Sam can still be Mayor and have all those kiddies and Frodo can have his without thoroughly messing up Hobbit genealogy.

So the author here sets about attempting to prove her theory. This may take awhile. This story may go anywhere.. within the realm of the spirit of Tolkien canon. The author doesn’t know since she gets these ideas and writes them as they go along and often surprises herself with what the characters get up to. She thinks it will be a fairly happy Hobbity story. But you know she likes angst so it’s just bound to turn up here and there. You may need a hanky now and then. She isn’t sure yet. Oh, no, never mind.. You will need a hanky so have one handy but you will smile, too. A story chock full of all the Hobbits has to make you smile often. And she thinks they will all be there. Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin (the little Dickens!), Rosie, Elanor, Frodo Gardner, the Gaffer, most likely Ted making some kind of trouble.. the whole kit and kaboodle of the Shire if she can squeeze them in. This may be a long fic if the author (all right, I!) can stick with it. And I mean to!

Story suggestions and non-flamatory remarks more than welcome! Mean criticism makes the author cry.

Usual Disclaimer: I don’t make a red cent off of this. Everybody except my original characters are Tolkien’s and belong to the Tolkien Estate. This is a work of fanfiction written simply because I love Hobbits and Frodo most of all!

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CHAPTER ONE

An Early Spring

Frodo’s first few months as Deputy Mayor of Hobbiton and by extension of the Shire were so busy and fraught with the problems of rebuilding what the ruffians had ruined, and the replanting of crops and trees, and settling squabbles amongst dispossessed Hobbits seeking to regain their properties that Sharkey’s men had appropriated that he hardly had time to think of his own troubles.

“I will be glad when your Father can resume his duties.” he told Poppy Whitfoot, daughter of the old Mayor Will Witfoot who was recovering his health and girth after being a prisoner for many months in the Lockholes.

Poppy removed her spectacles and looked at Frodo.

“You’ve been doing an excellent job, Frodo. Everything is finally beginning to return to normal.”

“I suppose it is. I’ve only had to arbitrate five property disputes and sign 20 documents all saying virtually the same thing for the 100th time this week. A slow day.” He said facetiously. He was tired and he yawned widely and wished for home and tea.

Poppy felt much the same.

“I’m going to make us some tea.” She declared and with brisk efficiency, as was her wont, Poppy quickly had the kettle heating on the Mayoral office’s small stove. She got her ever-full tin of biscuits from the cupboard and set them upon a plate upon the Mayoral desk. The water boiled promptly and she poured it over the deliciously aromatic tea leaves she had spooned carefully into the teapot.

She set this on the desk as well and Frodo reached for it. It all smelled wonderful.

Poppy swatted his hand lightly.

“It has to steep for a full three minutes, as you know very well.”

Frodo meekly withdrew his hand to wait the prescribed amount of time.

“Yes, Poppy. You’re right.”

Poppy nodded.

“You MAY have s biscuit.” She said.

“Oh, thank you. Did you make these?”

“No actually. I got them from Rose. She’s a much better cook than I am.”

Frodo sighed with a small smile, since this was very, very true. Poppy was an intelligent, well-organized, well-read (most unusual in a Hobbit-lass!), neat and primly attractive maid or maiden-lady to be more accurate, of the Shire. Age-wise she was something more than a tween and less than a matron. Poppy wouldn’t tell her age and few dared to ask, as she did have, when the occasion called for it, a fine temper. Poppy was rarely crossed not because she was cruel or haughty but for the simple reason that she had an air about her that called for respect. She always seemed to know full-well what she was about and her actions most often bore this out as fact. She did everything well... except for the culinary arts. She knew it and accepted it and bought most of her food for herself and her Father Will and now for Frodo the acting Mayor, whom she was most ably assisting, from the shops in Hobbiton or from those others who could wield a cook-pan without setting it , the food, or the kitchen ablaze.

“Ah...” Frodo said. “Good.”

Poppy pursed her lips at him in mock-insult. This was a normal day’s comradely exchange.

Indeed Frodo didn’t know what he would have done without Poppy’s assistance. When he had offered to take over for a time as mayor he hadn’t expected the chaos that awaited him when he first entered the mayor’s office. The ruffians had reduced the normally tidy place to a welter of strewn and begrimed papers and trash. He had nearly dismayed until Poppy had walked in and declared she was there to help. She knew all about what needed to be done and where everything went since she had been assisting her father for years. Frodo wasn’t to worry. She would have everything back in shape in a snap. And she did! The next day the office looked as if nothing had ever happened and Frodo began his tenure as mayor far more easily than he had ever expected.

And Poppy had kept things going along quite smoothly ever since. Not a small feat considering the propensity of Hobbits to wrangle legally for the longest time over the smallest of details of the simplest transactions and rulings.

“Bless you, Poppy.” Frodo said as he pondered her invaluable help.

“For what? Not baking?”

“Well yes, for that.... But for everything. You’re a wonder!”

“Oh, well, yes.. of course.” She said feigning hauteur. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome. Dare I partake of the tea now?”

Poppy looked at the clock on the mantle.

“Yes........ Now. Help yourself. “

“After you.” Frodo said, pouring her a cup and handing it to her.

Poppy thanked him and drew her chair opposite the desk and sat down and they munched contently on Rosie’s marvelous ginger snaps and Poppy’s perfectly brewed tea. She COULD brew perfect tea.

When they were finished and the plate and teapot were empty they sat back and both turned to look out the front window which revealed a gloriously bright early spring afternoon. It was April 6 Shire Year 1420.

“It’s much to nice outside to work any longer today.” Frodo sighed.

“I totally agree.” Poppy replied.

“Good.” Frodo got up from his Mayoral chair pushed it beneath his Mayoral desk and opened the Mayoral door. “The office is now closed.” He declared, flipping the Office Closed sign around so everyone would know it.

“I suppose I should get home and see to Father.” Poppy said.

“Oh, it’s early yet. He won’t be expecting you.”

“Well... “

“And you said he is nearly well and rounded out to nearly his original old self.”

“Yes.... nearly. A few more pounds to go though, I should say.”

Poppy was very good company and it was far to lovely an afternoon to spend all on his own. It was nice to have someone intelligent to chat with. Not that Sam was not bright, only he tended to prefer to talk about the garden and the effects of the weather on the roses and the peas. Merry was a witty one but he was home in Buckland right now and Pip...well Pip was something else all together. But Poppy... Now Poppy actually read books AND enjoyed them! What’s more she understood them and could even conceive of what the world was like beyond the borders of the Shire. Moreover she CARED about what it was like. She was one of the few Hobbits around him that could begin to comprehend just what exactly he and Sam and Pippin and Merry had done on their quest.

Or their Mad Adventure as it was more generally called around Hobbiton. And she seemed aware of his moods which, he was sorry to say, were not always their best since his return home. He often felt oddly out of sorts and sad. And at times, as on the past March 13, he felt quite ill. Poppy never minded him being a sad, grumpy, peaked Hobbit. She somehow knew there was an excellent reason for his afflictions and unlike the other Hobbits never felt this in any way made him ‘cracked’ or somehow un-hobbity. This was just how Frodo was now and that was all. Why make things harder for him, she thought.

Yes, Poppy was very good company. And a sensible and, in the right light, a pretty, somewhat thinner-than-usual, dark-hired hobbit lass. There must be some Fallohide in her background as well, Frodo had often thought to himself. We Fallohides tend towards being slender.

Just then two youngsters rushed past them nearly crashing into Frodo and Poppy.

“Here, now! Be careful you two.” Frodo told them. They turned out to be two of the young Bolgers.

“Sorry, Mayor Baggins, your Honor, Sir!” The eldest paused long enough to say.

They made to dash off again.

“What’s going on?” Frodo asked.

They were raring to be off and getting impatient.

“The Party Tree!” They both exclaimed as if that answered the question and they hurried away as fast as their small furry feet could carry them.

Frodo and Poppy looked at each other then shrugged.

“Shall we go have a look?” Frodo suggested.

“It does seem like that’s where everyone else is going.” Poppy agreed as several more Hobbits scurried by.

“Let’s go then.” Frodo said, offering her his arm in a gentlemanly manner.

Nearly all of the folk of Hobbiton were in the Party Field chattering away excitedly.

As Frodo and Poppy joined the group it was plain to see what had attracted al this attention.

The small mallorn seed Sam had planted not long ago had been a wonder before this. It had grown into a hardy sapling seemingly overnight and it’s growth had been phenomenal every since the first spring-thaw. Now it was taller than all the hobbits and it’s branches were spreading out in promise of shade in the summer.

But what was astonishing and delighting everyone this fine afternoon was the fact that beautiful golden mallorn flowers had burst open all over the young tree and the petals drifted down gently on their upturned faces. And the air was full of the scent of far off Lothlorien.

The other Hobbits simply thought it smelled lovely but Frodo was carried back to that Golden Land full of the light of the Lord and Lady Galadriel. The rare timeless days they had spent there free from fear and pain in the midst of so much peril.

There were tears in his eyes that he was completely unaware of and as these spilled down his cheeks he looked across the crowd of chattering hobbits and saw Samwise staring up at the tree with the same wet streaks running down his round cheeks as well.

Sam ran over to where Frodo and Poppy stood.

“Mr. Frodo! Oh, look. It’s bloomed! It’s first year and it’s bloomed!”

“Yes, Sam, it has!”

And a look of knowing and understanding passed between Frodo and Sam that spoke of all they had been through and how very glad they felt at this amazing moment.

Poppy drew out her handkerchief and politely blew her nose as she stepped away to let the two friends embrace each other as their joyous, yet, melancholy-tinged emotions flooded their hearts to over-flowing.