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Frodo stared at the front door of Bag End. Not the actual front door of Bag end, but an exact copy of it, covered under decades of dust and cobwebs. Slight faint wiped striped indicated that time to time it was touched, fingertips wiping the dust away, but never cleaned. Well, Uncle Bilbo possibly liked to keep a spare door handy and Frodo let it be. He stepped out of the furthermost storage room and closed the door behind him.
~
Next time Frodo saw the door was when he walked around the rooms of Bag End, taking last glances of his once-home. He had diced to leave it to Samwais, Rose and their growing family. Frodo had gotten Sam to help with the door, excusing that he just wanted to have the place dusted from floor to roof at least once in a century. They carried the dusty door out in the open air and gave good hard sweeps with a broom to get rid of the webs and other dirt. Frodo inspected the door more closely when he finally understood why it was hidden in the back of the Bag End. He gave a hearty sigh and walked over the tools they had found from the storage room. Rummaging the box he found the saw he was looking for and approached the round green door.
~
Frodo took one last look at his friends at the harbor. They’d sail to the Undying Lands, Frodo and Bilbo, Gandalf and the high elven king and queen along other elves. Bilbo was tucked under Frodo’s chin and stared at the setting sun ahead of them. “Uncle Bilbo…” he gently started, gaining the older hobbit’s hazy attention. “I have something for you, to remember…” He hesitated a moment. Bilbo wasn’t on his sharpest anymore, bit Frodo swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced the wizard. Gandalf gave him a nod with a mile and puffed his pipe. Frodo answered with smile of his own and resumed to his task at hand. He reached for his small bag and pulled out a flat piece wrapped in a canvas. He opened it for Bilbo and lowered in into his uncle’s hands. “To remember the Shire and the Bag End, uncle…” Frodo finished. He gently stroke Bilbo’s now thinning snow white locks of curly hair.
~
A small chuckle brought Frodo back to the present moment and he looked at the green board held high in Bilbo’s hands, painted with the very same green as the door of Bag end. Bilbo’s old fingers traced over the marking on the piece. “Some people never forget…” Bilbo took a deep breath, “…the mighty adventure of a hobbit and the dwarves, Thorin Oakenshield and his Company.” Frodo had read the Bilbo’s infamous adventure over and over again and memorized all the drawings. He did recognize the scratch mark on the old dusty door as the same drawn in the book, the very same door which was opened to the wizard and the King under the Mountain and his company of 12 most loyal dwarves with willing heart and mightier than any army ever found in the Middle-Earth.