by Coriandra
It was the night of September 21, or perhaps September
22. Frodo didn't know if it was after midnight or
not. In any case, he knew he was going to be
fifty-one very soon, which would have been a sobering
thought under normal circumstances, although it seemed
considerably less important in their camp. The
weather was getting colder, there was the possibility
of having to go over Caradhads which would be
particular difficult, if not impossible for the
Hobbits and the fate of all Middle Earth was hanging
in the balance. Frodo, however tried not to think
about that now. He knew the burden he was carrying
could crush his spirit if he allowed himself to dwell
on it, so he made up his mind to think of other
things, such as the unusually bright stars sparkling
over his head.
As he gazed up at them wondering which one was the
star of Earendil, he found his biggest regret was not
have any birthday gifts for the Fellowship and no way
to celebrate properly. There was no time for parties
here, indeed just getting through each day took almost
their time and energy. Things would have been totally
different, however, if they were back home. They
would be dancing and singing around the party tree
with all the Hobbits in Shire well into the night and
when it got really dark, they would marvel at
Gandalf's amazing fireworks. Frodo would have had
pipe made for Gandalf to mark the occasion and given
him a large pouch filled with the best pipeweed in
Shire. Frodo smiled as he thought about how much
Gandalf loved pipeweed. He would have gotten Legolas
a collection of Shire songs and poetry translated into
Elvish, or better yet, composed one himself. And he
would have gotten Merry and Pippin a flask each of
Miruvor, brought in from Rivendell.
That would certainly be a valuable gift, Frodo
thought, no less than they deserve. He never
ceased to amazed and humbled when he thought about the
sacrifice his cousins had made for him when they left
their comfortable homes and the sacrifices they were
making even now by having to adapt to life in the
wild. And they were still so young, to Frodo at
least. A cold wind suddenly blew across the camp, but
Frodo felt strangely warm inside as he continued to
think about his friends. What present would he give
to Boromir, he wondered. That was more difficult. He
found Boromir was a hard person to get to know, even
after the time they spend together in Rivendell and
traveling for a week. After considering this for some
time, Frodo decided a painting would be most
appropriate.