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Weaving Dreams
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“And what are you doing, my lad?” Bilbo asked.

Frodo looked up from the red fabric he held. “Darning the hole in the sleeve of my sweater. There’s no need to have a new one made when Aunt Esme saw to it I knew how to repair broken threads.”

But there was a solemnity to Frodo Bilbo hadn’t seen in him for quite some time. It had begun when Pearl threw him over, and how long it would last was anyone’s guess. If only broken hearts were so easily mended, Bilbo thought as he saw Frodo finish closing the rent.


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