Diclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit.

Okay, so I want to see how this concept goes for me. Tell me your thoughts on whether or not I should continue. Lots of love.

'In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty dirty wet hole full of worms and oozing smells, this was a hobbit hole, which means good food, a warm hearth, and all the comforts of home.'

The pages of the book closed, cutting off the rest. "What have I told you about reading over one's shoulder Frodo?" Marie Baggins chastised her young nephew, "It is both frightfully rude and very distracting."

"I was only ..."

"When I am finished, you may read it. But until then you and the rest of the world will have to wait."

The young hobbit smiled and patted his aunt's shoulder. He placed the handful of letters on top of the old writing desk and out of the corner of his sharps eyes, he spotted a drawing sitting on top of a pile of books. The parchment was old and rough to the touch, but the image itself remained in good condition, as if it had been freshly drawn.

It was a portrait of a she hobbit, with a rounded face with long curls falling around it, a handsome nose and bright eyes that held an enormous amount of secrets behind them.

If Frodo didn't know any better he could have sworn that he was staring at the younger face of his aunt.

"Sticky beak, that's private." Marie snatched away the drawing and hid it within the black pages of her book. "Now what have you brought me?"

"Responses to the party invitations."

"My word, it's not today is it? I've lost track of time again." But Frodo was barely listening, and was loitering through the dwarven artifacts ... again. "They all said that they're coming, except for the Sackville-Baggins. They're demanding that you answer them in person."

"I'd be perfectly content for them not to come. Saves me from a headache then." Marie placed her quill back into the ink pot and wiped her hands on her burgundy skirt, "Frodo, please put that down before you cut yourself."

Frodo just scoffed, "The blade is as dull as a spoon."

Marie stood up straight and placed her hands on her hips, "I've seen orcs being killed with a spoon Frodo Baggins, now what makes you think you'd be any safer."

He promptly placed the strange weapon back into the large foot locker.

"You know they won't be happy." He went on to say, to which Marie pulled an expression as if to say 'You think I care?' as she passed him. Though her face was careworn and lined, the old hobbit still held that fiery spark of youth and humor. You would not think her to be one hundred and eleven.

"They seem to think you tunnels overflowing with gold."

"It was only one smelly chest, and only half of it was gold." She began stashing all the precious goods into drawers and cupboards, "Sixty years and I still can't get the smell of troll out of it. Perhaps I should give it to her as a present."

"Who? And what are you doing?" Frodo asked as he watched her work.

"Secondly, taking precautions. Firstly, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins that's who. Once tried to make off with all my best cloths she did, and my silverware." Marie closed the last of the drawers, "Always keep a weather eye on her Frodo."

"I always do."

"Good lad." Marie smiled. Frodo may have had the bearing of his father, but his spirit was indeed very much kindred to her own. Itching for adventure, but still very comfortable with life in the Shire ... well, Frodo was comfortable.

Recently she had felt quite ... confined, restless and quite frankly bored with life as it was.

"Oh before I forget," She rushed into the living room and took out a large piece of parchment ah began writing, "I need you to put this on the gate for me."

"Aunt Marie?" She head Frodo say from behind her, "People are beginning to talk."

"My dear Frodo, that's all people round here do."

"They think you're becoming odd and ... unsociable." Marie could feel Frodo's insecurity about the topic. "They've been saying that for decades now. Once a spinster, always a spinster, no matter how wealthy." She brushed off the issue and handed the sign to Frodo.

Frodo glanced from the sign to his aunt, then shook his head in defeat.

This made Marie chuckle heartily, and she thanked all the stars in the heavens that she still retained her wits about her. She sighed and glanced out the window fondly.

'Blunt the knives, bend the forks. Smash the bottles and burn the corks. Chip the glasses and crack the plates, that's Marie Baggins hates.'

She could still hear the blasted song ringing through Bag End.

xxxxxxx

The two Baggins worked under the blue skies. Frodo started to hammer in the nails for the sign while Marie tended to her garden, a small pipe sticking out from her mouth. Everyone could agree that, even though Marie Baggins was odd, she had one of the finest gardens in Hobbiton. The green door of Bag End shone with many different colours as they stretched across the hillside, every bloom and every patch were pristine.

Even as the years came and went and the season ravaged and feed the land, Marie could maintain its beauty.

"Marie, why did you never marry?" Frodo asked, holding the nails in his mouth as he worked. Had he been looking at her, he would have seen his aunt faltered slightly. The masses of grey curls that covered her face would have hidden the glimmer of sadness from any prying eyes.

"As I have said before, I have my reasons." She answered curtly, and she began to fiddle with the silver ring she always wore on her right index finger, dragging her nail along the single rune carved into it.

"But surely you had your eye on someone at some point?"

"A woman never reveals the secrets of the heart Frodo. Learn that and you might get a wife."

"Shame really. You looked like quiet a beauty back in the day."

"And what's to say I'm not still that beauty today?" She dramatically waved her pipe above her head. "Don't you find my wrinkles alluring? Does the salt and pepper shade of my hair not shine in the sun? Rest assured, I can even sway elves."

Frodo was reduced to a fit of giggles and struggled to finish his job without crushing his fingers. Marie's job was done, for he ceased to ask about it.

As she plucked some fresh daisy for the kitchen, Frodo announced his intention of heading off to Eastfarthing wood. "I'm off to surprise Gandalf."

"Well go on then, you don't want to be late." Marie watched the young hobbit take off down the path with a new book in hand. Once he was out of sight, her face softened and she was filled with a sense of melancholy. She placed the small bouquet in her gardening basket along with her tools, and took one last puff of the long bottom leaf.

She cut a single rose from the rose bush and proceeded to venture up the side of Bag End to the large tree that stood tall above her home. There she found the small moss covered stone plaque nestled at its base, covered in dwarf runes. Only she knew what was written, and was happy to keep it that way.

"Another year." She said softly, hearing the age in her voice, "It's strange that they should fly by so quickly now, when they went so painfully slow to begin with." She dusted the dirt away and placed the rose on the plaque. "Perhaps it means that my days are finally drawing near, I can certainly feel it in my bones nowadays."

Marie turned her eyes east, as if searching for something. "I'd like one more adventure, before I join you."

A thrush entered her sight, darting and weaving across the sky.

"I'll take that as a sign I suppose."