Old TalesOld TalesOld Talesin Frodo
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Frodo stretched his legs out in front of him, pulling his arms back behind his head and breathing the crisp, fall-time air deeply as he sat upon the bench outside of Bag End. It was a beautiful day, he mused. A few clouds drifted lazily across the azure sky while all around him autumn had set into the Shire. Fields stretched out golden as far as the eye could see, orchards were laden with apples, and the leaves of the trees shone in an array of reds, yellows, and browns. Yes, autumn had embraced the land indeed.
Although Frodo truly felt at his best this time of year, he was also at his worst. For today was October the fifth, and tomorrow… tomorrow was that day, that terrible day where once again Frodo would have to fight for his very life and suffer through the resurrected pain of a de