Disclaimers: All material from The Lord of the Rings trilogy belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema. All material from "Star Wars" belongs to George Lucas and Disney. Research on the Jedi and Lightsabers came from the Star Wars Wiki, Wookieepedia. All original material belongs to the author of this fanfiction story. This fanfic is inspired by the fan theory: "What if Frodo is a Jedi?"

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This is something I've been meaning to write for a while now. I'm also going to attempt to use imagery in this story, at best, because the stories so far have been lacking imagery. It's time to bring it back and see what happens. :)

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Frodo Baggins, Jedi Knight

It is the third age of Middle-earth. The
Shadow grows stronger across the Free
Peoples' lands. Orcs, goblins and other
fell creatures wait for the resurgence of
the Dark Lord Sauron.

Unaware as of yet of the present danger,
hobbits grow and learn the Jedi ways.
Bilbo Baggins, who helped the Dwarves
retake Erebor, now assists his cousin
Frodo Baggins on how to be a proper
Jedi.

The two Hobbit Jedi Knights now head for
the Quarry, in the village of Scary. It is here
that news of a lightsaber crystal is hidden
inside the Quarry's tunnels…

*.*.*

Frodo took a few slow, deep breaths. The tiny threads of the Force pulled at his mind, pulling him further into the dream. At last, his mind breached through, revealing a grey stone quarry with a large cave entrance at the bottom. His mind pulled him further into the cave. In the darkness, a tunnel pulled him through, dragging his mind further. At last, he reached the light in the cave, sparkled into array of colors: reds, blues, greens and golden yellows. He came to a single thought: there was a crystal room inside the quarry.

His vision zipped him back to the present darkness. He opened his eyes. He was on a wood paneled surface, where the air was fresh and moist. His back slammed against the wooden bench scooted against the bed frame. His bed frame. How long had he been on this surface? He dared not guess a venture. The entire vision trip had felt like minutes. At the same time, his thoughts of the crystal cave were so fresh, enrapturing his thoughts in a warm cocoon.

He stood up as his elder cousin stormed into the bedroom. His nostrils picked up a flare of fragrance. A scented fragrance of purple lilacs and white narcissus, situated in painted vases of flowers and stone cabins along various dark oak tables, or seated next to two bookcases and a writing desk, set along the wall. And yet, his cousin brought in the study a fresh scent of pine, receding off his jacket, trousers and fairly dirtied white dress shirt.

"Bilbo, I was meditating." Frodo said, straightening himself up. He spoke more lively, "The Force was guiding me, showing a crystal cave. That it's somewhere in the Quarry."

"Then you are ready," Bilbo said. He gestured towards the large round door. "Come now, Frodo. Let's find these crystals."

Frodo nodded, grinning in an effort to show appreciation for the task at hand. Briefly checking himself in the nearest mirror. The new brown tunic, lightly dusted in a tan texture, complete with a dark brown long, hooded robe and brown breeches, reflected his humble composure and the need for peace, not war. Strapped across his shoulders was his training staff with its curved edges. Snapped to his belt was his training lightsaber with its silver casing. He was ready to begin this journey.

Zooming out the front round door, Frodo took a good look at his surroundings. Hobbits moved to and fro, their feet scuttling in quick strides from one place to another. Hobbits at work in the stone quarry, while others bought various items and groceries from their fellow kin. Children screamed, shouted and ran to their parents or siblings. Yes. It was another day in the village of Scary, but where the name of the village came was relatively unknown. And yet, these hobbits lived in this village, so close to the rocks and tunnels that made up the quarry.

Frodo looked back at his cousin. The keys chimed to life as Bilbo locked the front door. Frodo stared, wondering if there was anything he could do to help his elder cousin. There wasn't anything to do in this moment, except follow his cousin straight to the quarry. The grey dust twirled in the air as the two hobbits moved on swift hairy feet to the bottom of the sloping stone ramp. They did not stop until they reached the bottom of the quarry. Spiders were dealt with by various hobbits, who brandished their lightsabers in the air. These spiders were useful for target practice, for smuggler hobbits, but for hobbit Jedi it was utilized to use the Force to calm the insects. He returned his gaze to the large cave entrance with its dark, hollow opening.

He gulped. Nervousness seeped into his skin once more, sending small tremors coursing through his veins. Was he ready for such a challenge? Even he was asking this enduring question. A good question at the most appropriate moment in time.

"I need to go in." He craned his head. "Don't I?"

"Yes. I will wait out here." Bilbo said, seated on a stone surface. "You go in. Complete your trial. I will wait here until you return."

Frodo nodded. His gaze returned to the hollow entrance. A cold chill nearly stopped his heart beat. There was no choice now. No turning back. His footsteps echoed along the walls. Already, he did not know what to do, and very nearly took his training lightsaber off his belt…

His training lightsaber's yellow beam hummed aloud, its sound echoing off the walls. Creeping legs skittered across the floor, startling the Hobbit Padawan. For a long moment, he hardly guessed the darkness' strength. Heated pulls swirled around him. The tunnel collapsed, its floor diminishing into nothingness. The training lightsaber deactivated, its yellow beam shutting down in a flash. His sturdy hairy feet nearly crippled the poor gentle-hobbit to the floor.

He was in a new location. White sand was everywhere, piled on high dunes. The sun blazed bright and hot in this area. But no. Where was everyone? He was alone in a desert with no telling where to… a small hobbit boy cried out to him… to someone. The boy's hands were tied behind his back, the bonds wrapped tightly against his wrists. Frodo checked his own hand. It was badly bruised and flaming red, as if something or someone brushed against it with a sharp armored fist. He returned his gaze to the hobbit boy, but… the boy was a foot or so away from him. And so was the hooded figure, snaking his red beamed whip in one direction.

CRACK!

The whip hissed violently. Frodo jumped in shock at the device. The whip cracked a second time. He paused to think. How did he get here? He was in the tunnels of the quarry… the desert only just appeared. It… was an illusion. A trick. He gulped, feeling wet saliva reach his lips. A cool, damp air breached the wall between illusion and reality. The whip moved towards him… and vanished, along with the hooded figure and the hobbit boy, who watched the whole scene.

The darkness returned, but there was also a crystallize light in the air. The training lightsaber flickered to life, its yellow beam humming so sweetly. His footsteps echoed once more across the stone cold floor. Once again, the cool air moved about the tunnels. Goosebumps increased along his skin. His mind panicked for a near second. His movement changed to quickness as he approached the sparkling chamber.

He was here. The crystals called out to him, their harmonic sounds ringing in peace. Each one had their own song, their own instrument, as if each crystal was unique to whomever Jedi owned it. His gaze turned to two crystals in the centermost part of the room. A blue crystal and a small light blue crystal. Opening himself to the Force, he allowed the tiny invisible threads to float the two small crystals into the palm of his free hand.

The crystals were his now. His to craft his first lightsaber. And that's what he would do with them.

-.-.-

Frodo advanced towards the light oak work bench. Various metallic parts and casings were strewn across the table. With great care, he set the two crystals on the wood surface. Now was the time to craft his first lightsaber. Moving to a cross-legged spot on the floor, he inhaled and exhaled for a few slow moments. He closed his eyes, the tiny threads and pulls of light guiding his thoughts, pulling him further into concentration.

His mind at last revealed the parts, sliding and collapsing into place. Each screw tightened, each crystal fell into place, each mechanic string transforming into a new working piece of the puzzle. The cells, the handgrips, all parts took shape. He was careful with some parts. If a piece was done wrong, it would spell doom for anyone carrying the lightsaber. The activating button he chose to specify when a Force user took control of the weapon. He could not afford this new lightsaber falling into the wrong hands. The last part was screwed in and tightened.

His lightsaber was ready.

Frodo opened his eyes. The new lightsaber floated in the air above his head. He scrambled to his feet, yearning to test out his new weapon. His hand moved towards the hilt, grasping it in the last pressing second. The hilt glided with him, vibrating in the palm of his hand with newfound life. Taking one more deep breath, he pressed the activation button. A blue blade sang with great joy as it brandished out of the hilt. Already, Frodo smiled with a newfound determination. Finally, he had a blade that was worth gazing into, and yet still remind him that good things did come to those who tried. And he did know that fact in the years to come.

-.-.-

Years passed. The brown braid on the right side of Frodo's face was severed off by Bilbo's green beamed lightsaber. Twirling the braid in his fingers, Frodo's gaze returned to his elder cousin. It was the moment he had – they had waited for.

"You are now a Jedi Knight," Bilbo said, clasping a hand on Frodo's shoulder. "Welcome."

Frodo nodded, grinning in delight. There were no further words to say. His gaze dropped to his left hand, which still held the braid. Returning to his room in Bag End, Frodo opened the top dresser drawer. He placed the braid under a small pile of white, folded handkerchiefs. The braid would be safe there. Convinced it was in the right place, he restored the handkerchiefs to where they had been previously. A folded parchment caught his attention. He pulled it out, revealing inked, delicate handwriting from his mother. The letter wished him to be the best in all his activities and to not give up.

And he wouldn't in the years to come.

His thoughts returned to the present. The blue blade resonated off the lightsaber hilt, its beam humming so delicately. He was inside a spidery lair, filled with large sticky webs. The darkness was everywhere around him. He could feel anger and hot air boiling off the walls. This was not a place for a Jedi Knight – a hobbit no less – to be inside. The blue beam also revealed skeletons of birds and orcs, covered by these cobwebs. Frodo wanted to escape, to flee… a massive thorn struck behind his neck. He gasped for air, but couldn't move… couldn't think, except to see a blue light glowing from a nearby tunnel… he could only stand there, watching as the world dimmed around him…

Frodo jolted to a sitting position. His hand smacked against his neck. The wound was angry and sore. What he experienced in the dream was so real, the memories so strong. His gaze transitioned to the warm, friendly, sunny air surrounding his room. The windows revealed the sunny skies. The walls were plastered in cream colored paint. The covers and sheets on his bed were also white. He was still in the Houses of Healing. And yet, his gaze captured the silver casing hilt, resting on a dark oak table. Frodo sighed. Well, at least he still had his lightsaber. He chuckled, smiling in triumph that his lightsaber was still bound to him.

"Mr. Frodo," said an all too familiar, yet concerned voice. Frodo's attention was drawn back to the present by the sandy-haired hobbit, whose retained that voice.

"Sam," Frodo said, moving his hands over his knees. He chuckled. "How are you?"

"Are you well?" Sam asked, concerned.

Frodo looked up, confusion drawn on his face. "I keep having these dreams about Shelob…" he heaved a sigh. "…about our quest." He looked up at him, worry filled with a nervousness. "What if the quest we set on… it's not over."

"Mr. Frodo." Sam told him, serious. "The quest is over. Don't trouble yourself over it. It's done."

He huffed behind his teeth. "I hope you're right, Sam." He repeated, calmer this time. "I hope you're right. I wish – hope – that the Ring is destroyed."

"It is, Mr. Frodo," Sam added last, "It's over now."

Frodo stretched his hand towards the lightsaber. The stretched tightened his shoulders. But now, now he had the hilt in his hands. He moved the hilt from one free hand to the next, until he was ready to activate it. Pressing the button, the blue blade extended out to a decent short height. It was his: the same weapon he revealed to Bilbo, right before the Fellowship journeyed south to destroy the Ring. He chuckled, happy to have one piece of his life still with him. His peaceful eyes looked on at Sam, in friendship and joy. Yet Sam looked at him and the weapon in wonder.

There was much wonder in those eyes.

"I forgotten what it's like to carry a weapon, such as this." Sam scratched his head. "What did you name your lightsaber?"

"I didn't name mine," Frodo recalled. He stared at the weapon, quizzical on its name and blade's shape. It truly was a unique weapon, the lightsaber. Would he choose to name it? That remained the question of the day. Yet, Frodo's intrigued gaze met Sam's one last time. "It's a beautiful weapon. Elegant, for another time." He clicked the button. The blue beam hummed lightly as it skimmed further through the air, restoring itself inside the silver cased hilt. Returning the lightsaber back onto the table, Frodo was reminded of something. Staring at his maimed hand, he told Sam, "It's funny. Bilbo trained me, hard and fast, for what was to come. To see the Ring destroyed… it won't please him." He looked up at his best friend again. "What am I to tell Bilbo?"

"I… I'm not sure, Mr. Frodo." Sam admitted, "I think that is a conversation you need to tell with Mr. Bilbo."

Frodo smirked. He sat in the same position for a moment. "It's Sunday, right?"

"I believe so," he said. He immediately spoke, out of concern, "But you need to rest, Mr. Frodo. And eat."

"I know." Just as he moved, a wave of dizziness seized him. Frodo was restored to the bed by Sam, in an effort to show kindness. In that moment, Frodo could think of nothing else but the dizzy spell. A variation of colors swarmed across his vision, seizing his mind at the last stroke. The last he recalled was seeing the hilt of his lightsaber, as the darkness drew him back once more to its gentle embrace.

-.-.-

Frodo stood on the dock, watching the ripples as they skimmed the bay's surface. His fingers traced out the silver casing. The lightsaber was his, representing peace and hope. But he could only stare at the lightsaber, wondering whose it would belong to. Could he pass it onto Sam? Or was it his to keep?

"Frodo," an elderly voice spoke. Frodo's gaze met that of Bilbo, whose expression gave him a mixture of light and the need for adventures. And yet, in his heart, Frodo wondered who his lightsaber would pass onto next. He turned back to Sam for a moment, wondering if now was the time to give his lightsaber to his friend.

"Give me a second," Frodo said, striding down the wood planked ramp and onto the stone covered surface. In quick strides, he approached Sam. Extending his hand and his reach, Frodo stared at the lightsaber, passing the hilt to his best friend. A tear formed in his eye, as he spoke to his comrade on the quest to Mordor. "It's for you, Sam." He spoke, in a calm demeanor. "Pass it on to your children. This lightsaber was meant to be yours." He embraced his friend once more, before departing on the elvish vessel that would take him from the Grey Havens to the Undying Lands.

Frodo's lightsaber was then passed onto Frodo Gamgee, who passed it onto his son. The cycle continued until the lightsaber was restored to the Mathom Society, where it rested inside a glass case, on a dark oak pedestal for all to see, until the next generations flourished the blue bladed lightsaber once more.

The End.

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I figured out for a while now that I haven't put much imagery into my stories. Here's hoping this part of writing returns. Thanks for reading and I'll see everyone in the next story. :)