They filed down the long curving passageway to the little bedroom oriented towards the West and Bag End's front gate. Elanor's hand trembled slightly as she placed the key in the antique lock. It opened with a soft, well-oiled 'snick.'

They had always wondered what lay behind the locked door. What mysteries would be revealed when they finally entered the secret sanctuary of their father? Why was he was constantly drawn to the room of the missing owner of Bag End? And why did Sam so jealously guarded his treasures?

It was a rather unremarkable room for Bag End. The great old smial held more ornate rooms. Richer rooms. Larger rooms. Rooms with better views. There was nothing overtly out of the ordinary that the siblings could see as they crowded into the quiet, medium-sized dormitory.

"I thought it would be grander than this," Robin whispered to Tom.

"Where's all the magic Elvish things?" Bilbo asked to no one in particular. "I always thought it would be lined with hundreds of old books and magic staffs and treasure maps." He wandered over to an oversized writing desk located against the wall closest to the door. It was not like the rather messy desk his father kept in the study. This desk was neat as a pin and its roll-top cover was down. A small candle holder and a little alabaster statue of a nude female form dancing in the surf graced the desktop. Bilbo picked up the statue and admired it. "Nice, um … artwork. Reminds me of Sally Longtunnel.”

Merry snickered. “I never saw her with foam about her feet.”

“Then it must not be her,” Bilbo winked at his brother. “Must be an Elf. They like the sea. I always suspected queer old Uncle Frodo’s tastes ran towards the exotic. Guess Dad didn't want us corrupted with nudity, eh?"

"I thought this was where Dad kept his special wine he didn't want us getting into," Merry laughed.

"Hush, you two," Primrose admonished. "It's not polite to be making jokes about Uncle Frodo." She sat on top of a large wooden chest at the foot of the bed.

"Aw, come on, Penny. Lighten up." Daisy sat beside her on the chest and put her arm around her sister's waist, giving her a hug. The two had always been opposites in temperaments and interests, but loved each other fiercely all the same.

The room held the usual hobbit furniture. A double sized four-poster bed rested against the wall opposite the door. Pippin went over to the bed and lovingly ran his calloused hands over the highly polished hardwood posts. "Cherry," he murmured in appreciation. "Nice, clean lines. Good stain. Wow. Look at the carvings on the top of the posts. I think I've seen some furniture like that over at the Mathom House." He sat on the bed and turned his attention to the bedclothes. At one time they must have been white, but were now faded to a soft yellow. A dark blue woolen blanket and a maroon and blue quilt were neatly folded and laid atop at the foot of the bed. Two feather pillows inside maroon and blue pillow covers matched the quilt.

Frodo went over to the window. He pulled aside the deep blue velvet shades and tied them back so that sunlight flooded into the room through leaded glass. There was a crack in one pane. "Dad never opened these curtains or let me bring the glazier over to fix this window. Guess he preferred to put up with the broken glass than have a stranger into Uncle Frodo’s room." Frodo ran a finger around the edge of the lead came. “Needs to be puttied too. Guess I’ll have to add that to my list of things to do.”

"I think he knew we kids kept trying to see into the room from the outside," Rose smiled. "He never really liked sharing his Mister Frodo with anyone." She joined Pippin on the bed and settled herself into a comfortable crossed-legged position.

Goldilocks eased herself into the high-backed rocking chair situated between the bed and the window. Her richly embroidered silk mourning gown was a bit of a bother to sit on in the old rocking chair, but she managed to arrange the pearls and petticoats so that they were not crushed too badly. Faramir stood beside her and waited patiently as the rest of his in-laws found places to sit or stand. "I would have thought Frodo Baggins would have had better furnishings. At least some tapestries on the walls. It’s so plain in here. Why, the servants at the Great Smials have better rugs than this one."

"My mother made that rug," Hamfast pointedly said. "My father told me she gave Uncle Frodo a new braided rag rug for his bedroom as a thank you gift for him taking them in when they were first married." Faramir's lips tightened and he crossed his arms, but he did not apologize for his rude remark. Hamfast had never much cared for the only son of the Thain. He had seen his sister, Goldilocks, languish in the opulence and intrigue of the Great Smials, and disapproved of the way Faramir was constantly belittling those who worked for a living.

"Here, Ruby. Sit in this chair." Robin stepped aside to let his obviously pregnant sister rest in the soft reading chair located to the right of the bed.

She gratefully sank into its upholstered padding, putting her swollen feet up on the ottoman. "Thank, Rob."

Hamfast cautiously opened the doors to Uncle Frodo's large wardrobe next to the reading chair. Inside were some old-fashioned suits hanging on carved redwood hangers. The majority were a deep, rich maroon or chocolate brown velvet cloth, with rich silk piping and shiny antler bone buttons. Several shirts of cream color hung beside the suit jackets. Hamfast whistled quietly. "Looks as if Uncle Frodo was just here yesterday. This is a little bit creepy."

Robin walked over and looked inside the wardrobe's drawers. Cloth braces and fancy handkerchiefs of all colors were neatly folded in the top-most drawer. Soft cashmere sweaters and silky nightshirts in the palest and thinnest cottons nestled inside their own compartments. He ran his hand over the smooth cool fabric. He couldn't resist picking up one of the pale heather-colored sweaters and inhaled its fragrance. A curious mixture of mothballs and honeysuckle sprang to mind. He shook out the sweater and held it up to his own chest.

"Looks like you're getting another set of hand-me-downs," Hamfast smiled. "But these are really, really old hand-me-downs. They look like they might fit you, Rob."

"They're a sight better hand-me-downs than what I ever got from you," Robin teased back. "At least these have their elbows intact. My colors, too."

"I don't think I could wear anything that the Ringbearer wore," Primrose softly said. Conversation came to a halt. "I … I didn't mean it as a jinx or anything," she stammered in embarrassment. "I just … well, I just don't think it right somehow. It's not proper."

"They're just clothes, Penny," Daisy said. "I'm sure Uncle Frodo left them there for someone to use. Dad said he never wanted to be thought of as anyone special or anything. Just a hobbit doing what any other hobbit would have done in his situation."

"I couldn't have done what he did," Frodo said. "Dad said he was the bravest and most noble hobbit in all history, and that's saying a lot." For a moment the room was still and quiet with each sibling reflecting on the stories their father had told them concerning the Quest for the destruction of the Ring. Robin folded the sweater and returned it to its drawer.

Bilbo opened the roll top desk and peered inside. "There's a bunch of letters in here. Looks like Dad's opened them all and read them, 'cause their seals have been broken. But he's put them back inside their envelopes. He's left them in a stack.”

Elanor came over. "That's Uncle Frodo's handwriting all right. It's the same script that's in the original 'Red Book’ which Fastred has in the library." She picked up the topmost page.

"Well, go ahead and start reading them, Elly," Pippin said.

“The first one’s addressed to Mom and Dad,” Elanor said.