Frodo Baggins of Bag End

New WMC chapter!

2018-05-05T01:17:57Z

A new chapter of "What May Come" is available on ff.net - https://www.fanfiction.net/s/1974038/1/What-May-Come will take you to the start, but the new chapter is Part XIII: Soup and Shadows. :)

Enjoy!

Cross-posted to LJ & DW. Comments welcome on either or both; take your pick! :)

WMC update pending...

2018-05-02T03:39:50Z

I finished that chapter of What May Come (WMC) tonight...it's just over 1500 words, which makes it comparable to some of the later chapters of that fic already posted. Going to sleep on it and see whether I want to make any more tweaks before I post to FrodoHealers, and then to ff.net.

Thanks to all who continue to read this fic, even though I've been working on it for fourteen years, which is longer than some people have been alive, including my dog.... O.o

Cross-posted to LJ & DW. Comments welcome on either or both; take your pick! :)

If you have work on ff.net, please read this...

2016-02-12T02:37:15Z

http://hhimring.livejournal.com/147330.html

Many for-profit sites have stolen all the works from ff.net w/o authorization, I'm hearing. I did find that thebuystock had "A Warm Welcome" of mine up, as well as other stories, and talkfictions had my profile and several chapters of "Starved." :P I've reported them. Please follow the procedure for reporting, as many of the for-profit sites contain viruses and malware, so you'll need to do as it says to pull up search results and get URLs from that.

FYI,
Febobe the Disgusted :P

Cross-posted to LJ & DW. Comments welcome on either or both; take your pick! :)

FIC: "Soup & Secrets" (PG, 1/1) by Febobe

2015-10-06T05:36:10Z

It is now officially the anniversary of Frodo's wounding on Weathertop, and the day I'll attempt my bMRI again...and I want to mark the occasion with a recipefic. I hope you all enjoy. Links are fine as I'm putting this one on public lock.

-Febobe

Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FboBE/”Febobe”)
Title: Soup and Secrets (though I’m open to suggestions)
Rating: PG for mild angst – no sex, slash, violence, or profanity. Food detail warning (as in there’s plenty of it!)
Author's Notes: Written for the 2015 anniversary of Weathertop (and the day I’m supposed to make another attempt at a test I need for cancer staging)
Summary: When Frodo’s anniversary illness returns with the autumn chill, Rose summons her own gifts in an effort to call him back from the shadows….
Word Count: 3004 including recipe

Well, it was autumn sure enough, the air crisp enough to bite you, with occasional cool sunshine and sometimes gusts of wind, blustery days that sent the cold right through a body. And poor Mr. Frodo, I could tell he felt it worse than most, wrapping himself up in winter garments most days he went out, though those were getting fewer and fewer now. And I had half a notion why.

There’s things Mr. Frodo told me that he wouldn’t tell Sam, see, and so after that grim day in March, and certainly after I moved in, when Sam still had some running about to do all over the Shire, and after Mr. Frodo had turned the office of mayor back over to Will Whitfoot at the Free Fair, we began to talk over supper. His breakfast I took to his room on a tray, and let him alone till he come out to work on his book in his study, and then I’d go in and take back his dishes and whatever he hadn’t et, and made up his bed and did a bit of straightening. Come lunchtime, I’d take him summat to his study, and I wouldn’t go back to get that till he come out to lay down before tea. Tea he’d have in his room – oh, he’d tried to be sociable at first, but we soon enough figured out he had to lie down in quiet a while afore supper, and then he could talk.

And he told me about that place called Weathertop, and how ill he’d felt last year on its anniversary, on Winterfilth the sixth. And about everything else, about dark thoughts he said he hadn’t even told to Sam, about not feeling like eating and wishing to lie in bed instead o’going to all them celebrations and feasts – only he made himself get up and do it, for Sam. How he didn’t have the heart to tell Sam how he’d not felt really well for even an hour since their journey, or how he’d felt chilled ever since Weathertop.

And then in came Winterfilth, and poor Mr. Frodo, he was starting to look right peaked. Sam was busy with everyone after his gardening advice, and the autumn gardening at Bag End, and helping his Gaffer, so I couldn’t blame him for not seeming to notice. I don’t think Mr. Frodo did neither.

But I started making plans, I did.

“Get up extra early with me in the morning,” I said to Sam when he came to bed on the eve of Mr. Frodo’s anniversary. “I mean to get up long afore dawn, as early as I can manage.”

“Well, of course I will.” Sam snuggled in beside me and we spooned up together. “But what have you got in mind?”

“Mr. Frodo needs you to set with him. Never mind the garden, Jolly’s coming down to help us out for a day or two. And I’ll be in the kitchen, and with you two some.”

“But why…”

“Sam, tomorrow’s Winterfilth the sixth. When poor Mr. Frodo – “

I heard him suck in his breath. “When he was stabbed, sure enough. And you’re afraid it’s going to trouble him?”

“I think so.” I would not tell him how Mr. Frodo had expressed his fears to me. But I could remind him of the date, and of the possibility. “Now, just let’s sleep now. Tomorrow I’ve got big plans for his lunch.”

“When he’s so cold, it’s hard to get him to eat.” Sam’s voice wavered. “Rose, I don’t know how – “

“Hush. He’ll eat for me, and he’ll eat something good and nourishing. Now let’s close our eyes so we can be ready when he needs us.”

#

We had help getting up early, to be fair – Mr. Frodo cried out in the night, on past midnight, and Sam went to comfort him, and I got up and made him a hot drink, warm milk and sugar and white wine, and then I guessed I might as well start thinking about first breakfast, for I didn’t think I could go back to sleep after hearing that anguished cry. I figured poor Mr. Frodo might be best off with a bit of porridge thinned with milk and sweetened with honey. And then perhaps for second breakfast, he might let me try him with an egg and a bit of toast. And then I could start on luncheon, for I could count on Mr. Frodo not being willing to consider more than a cup of broth or some creamed mushrooms on toast for elevenses while feeling poorly.

I went in with the porridge just a bit after sevenish and found Sam looking worried sick. Mr. Frodo lay huddled in blankets, sweating and shaking like he’d took fever, and Sam was holding his left hand and rubbing it ever so tenderly.

“How is he?” I asked softly, though I could see plain enough.

Sam shook his head. “It’s worse than I’ve ever seen him, since – since he was wounded, and in the Dark Land,” he murmured. “He hardly drank a few sups of that posset, and he’s been wandering in his mind. Lost in there, I reckon.”

“Let me try, then.” I handed Sam the tray and went around the bed to stroke Mr. Frodo’s brow. No fever – he felt awful cold to my touch, for all his skin felt so damp. “Mr. Frodo, sir, it’s Rose. I’ve made a bit of porridge for you, thinned down with milk, honey stirred in and all.”

A low moan, and Mr. Frodo turned his head my way – but his eyes did not open, and he only pulled at his covers fretfully, curling into a little ball on his side.

“Sir, you need to eat,” Sam urged gently. “Rose’s porridge is the best. And it’s good and hot.”

A faint flutter of the thick eyelashes, and Mr. Frodo’s eyes opened…but only for an instant. They closed all in an instant.

We went on like that for a good fifteen minutes, and by then I realized that, in the first place, the porridge was cooling so much it wouldn’t be nice no more, and in the second place we weren’t getting nowhere with him.

“I’ll try something else in a bit,” I murmured to Sam. Then, to Mr. Frodo, “I’ll come back later, sir, with summat else. But if there’s aught you wish for, aught you think you might fancy, you just tell Sam and he’ll holler for me. And I’ll make sure you get it, if it’s anything I can get or make or fix.”

#

Well, we went on like that all morning. I brought poor Mr. Frodo soft-scrambled egg and a small circle of buttered toast and a feeding-cup with hot spiced cider. He opened his eyes again, but he shut them just as quick, and though we could tell from his breathing he weren’t sleeping, he clearly wasn’t altogether present either. I fixed Sam’s meals and brought them down too, and though he didn’t want to eat I made him, telling him he wouldn’t be no good to poor Mr. Frodo plumb wore out, so I’d sit and hold Mr. Frodo’s poor cold hand while Sam ate a muffin and tea or eggs and bacon and toast and cider or what have you.

But come mid-morning, I set to work on my plan to get some real nourishment down Mr. Frodo at lunch.

I sliced and chopped up a small yellow onion and most of a head of celery, and set them aside. Then I peeled several large potatoes and cut them into smallish pieces – not as small as the celery and onion, not near, but smaller than I used for mashed taters (which Mr. Frodo was real fond of). And then I got out the broth I’d made and put into cold storage the day afore. Back home we’d never had cold storage like what Mr. Frodo had in Bag End, all comfy under the Hill. Here, I could make stock or broth the day afore I needed it, or a couple days early, and it would stay just as fresh! I put that broth and them vegetables in Mr. Frodo’s soup pot, and I set them cooking. While the vegetables were getting soft, I mixed up a paste, warming butter and adding in flour till I stirred it smooth…and then I used that to thicken the soup, once the taters got soft, and then I started adding in salt and pepper and milk and cream….

And at every step, I added my special secret ingredient.

I just had to hope it would be enough to reach him.

#

“It’s me, Mr. Frodo,” I said gently as I took the seat I’d had Sam pull up for me, on the right side of the bed. “I’ve brought summat new for you.”

No reaction.

“It’s soup this time,” I added temptingly.

The heavy eyelashes fluttered faintly. I took that for a sign of interest, and went on. “It’s taters, and celery, and onions…and it’s good and hot.”

This time, Mr. Frodo’s eyes opened. He didn’t smile. He didn’t moan, though, neither, and I guessed that had to be a good start.

“Will you let Sam set you up so I can feed you a little?” I offered gently.

“Yes.”

Sam and I looked at each other, astonished. Poor Mr. Frodo had hardly said anything since yesterday. As startled as we were, though, Sam moved to prop master up in bed, and I set the tray where I could reach it and have both hands free to feed him. I’d brought a mug of my tater soup, a little feeding-cup of hot spiced apple cider, some warm milk and honey, and a little dish of cinnamon applesauce warmed up good. I just hoped he’d eat some soup. It had milk and cream and good vegetables, though I hadn’t added cheese or bacon to it as I would have if he’d been his usual self. I didn’t want to give him food too rich for an invalid and upset his poor delicate stomach.

Cautiously I spooned up the first mouthful, as soon as Sam had spread out a large napkin over Mr. Frodo’s chest. And then I just touched it to his lips.

They opened.

And he ate it.

Sam and I fair held our breaths.

It took him a moment, but then – he opened his mouth again. I gave him a little more. And he ate that, too.

“You’re doing fine, Mr. Frodo,” I said gently as I spooned up a third mouthful. “You’re doing a real good job, sir. Just you do what you can.”

Mr. Frodo swallowed another mouthful. “It’s…good,” he said after I gave him a sip of cider. “The soup is…so…warming.”

Sam’s face fair lit up, and I reckon mine did too.

“You can eat as much of this as you like,” I said, “and there’s more in the kitchen. I can bring you more later if you don’t feel like too much now.”

Mr. Frodo smiled a little, then, and reached for Sam’s hand with his left one. “The memories…are dreadful,” he said after another spoonful. “And the…pain. But…perhaps…making a memory…could overpower…old memories…just for a few minutes?”

“Oh, sir, perhaps.” Sam cradled his hand and kissed it. “Sir, I reckon the three of us could try to make you all the new ones you want.”

#

Well, bless me if Mr. Frodo didn’t do just like I thought, and even better than I’d hoped! He et up all of the soup, and a few mouthfuls of applesauce, and most of the cider and milk, and then he said he might try to sleep, but that he’d like to have more of that soup for supper, please, if I could manage it, and then he went right off to sleep, as soon as Sam laid him back down, and this time he didn’t moan or cry out. He slept right on through tea, but we thought we ought to let him, seeing as how his sleep seemed deep and healing now, so I just brought Sam some sandwiches and cakes and tea and went back to work fixing summat to go with the soup for supper.

When Mr. Frodo woke, he asked for supper, and I was ready, it being close to six. I brought him more tater soup, some glazed carrots mashed up nice, little tidbits of roast chicken (I’d had Jolly bring me a chicken to roast from the market) in a mushroom gravy with sliced mushrooms all cut up in it, more cinnamon applesauce, and a warm pumpkin custard, along with more cider and milk, and this time I’d put just a little white wine in the milk too. I reckoned when he went back to sleep, he might sleep on till morning, and pass on through the rest of this terrible anniversary.

And he et again, and et good for me, all the soup and most of the rest, though he left a few mouthfuls here and there. Still, he got down some chicken and vegetables and fruit and milk, and I reckoned a body couldn’t do better’n that, especially with him feeling poorly.

After his supper, Mr. Frodo told Sam he’d like to wash up a bit with hot water, so we brought some for him, and towels and wash-cloths, and I left the two of them to it. And when I came back, Mr. Frodo was sound asleep, tucked into his bed, wrapped up warm the way Sam had kept him all day, with warm quilts and blanket-wrapped heated stones and a good fire going in his hearth.

I pressed Sam to trade out with me and go on to bed. The worst was likely behind us…for now. But next time, I’d know just what to do. I’d make another soup, creamy and soothing and filled with my secret ingredient.

#

“Rose…I must ask.”

I looked at Mr. Frodo, who was feeding himself breakfast while I picked up around the room. His colour looked better today, with a hint of good pink in his cheeks. I didn’t reckon a question would hurt him any, so I stopped what I was doing. “What is it, sir?”

“The soup.” Mr. Frodo’s eyes were clear. “What in the world was in that soup, if I might be so bold as to ask? I don’t expect you to disclose your recipe, of course – but – it was the first time anything, food or aught else, has been able to cut through the fog, the chill, the pain. How did you manage it? Have you a secret ingredient?”

“Well, sir, I do, but I don’t reckon it’s that different than what your own mam must’ve used, rest her soul, or Mr. Bilbo, or Sam’s mam when she used to nurse you.”

Mr. Frodo blinked like he was about to fair die of curiousity. “What in the world is that?”

“Love, sir.” I smiled and turned back to my work. “The secret ingredient in my soup was love, and plenty of it.”

“Love.” Mr. Frodo sighed softly and returned to eating his breakfast. “I should have guessed. Rose, you are a wonder! Thank you.” He stopped again, his voice sounding suddenly thick. “Thank you for – for bringing me back from the darkness.”

I came over to him. I almost couldn’t speak myself, my heart was so full, so I put my arms around him and kissed the top of his head, the way Sam did sometimes when Mr. Frodo’s feelings seemed like to overwhelm him.

“You saved the only world I’ve ever known,” I whispered. “Just you be sure to stay here in it with us, just as long as you can. I’ll always call you home, back to us, back to where you belong.”

-the end-

Recipe: Old-Fashioned Potato Soup, adapted from http://www.food.com/recipe/old-fashioned-potato-soup-76754

Servings: Estimated 6 (it fed two of us hearty servings for almost three meals)

Ingredients:
8 cups chicken broth (I used boxed Swanson, regular, not lower sodium or organic; a regular size box usually has 4 cups)
6 cups potatoes (peeled and cut up pieces)
About 1 cup chopped celery
About 1 cup chopped yellow onion
2 tablespoons sweet cream salted butter (I use Land O’Lakes)
2 tablespoons unbleached all-purpose flour (but regular all-purpose flour should work fine too!)
1 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon white or black pepper (we used white, but added some black to taste after it was done, as we don’t mind black flecks in our creamy soup!)
1 cup half and half (or heavy cream, though we used half and half)
1 cup milk (I used 1%, but you could use whole or 2% - maybe skim, but you do want a little creaminess, mind!)

Directions:
1. In a large pot cook first four ingredients until potatoes are soft. (This may take a while. We got better progress when we turned our burner up a little above medium heat.)
2. Combine flour and butter and cook over medium-low heat until a smooth paste is formed (approx. 2 minutes). Thicken potato mixture with flour mixture.
3. Add remaining ingredients and stir to combine.
4. Simmer until creamy, at least 30 minutes. (We went about 40-45 minutes.)
5. If you prefer enjoy a thicker soup, the original directions say you may double the flour and butter or add a 1/2 of the small cube of Velveeta at the final step. We were quite satisfied with a thinly creamy soup obtained by using an immersion blender on it for a bit, then mixing Sargento sharp cheddar fine shreds (we often use Great Value, but they were out!) into our mugs of hot soup.  We also added extra sea salt and black pepper to taste, and you can top with crumbled cooked bacon as well if you like. 
6. Don’t forget Rose’s special secret ingredient – lots and lots of love!

Cross-posted to LJ & DW. Comments welcome on either or both; take your pick! :)

Most beautiful Frodo footage...

2015-06-05T02:23:56Z

I hadn't seen this somehow, but it's from Elijah's last day on set for LOTR, doing pickups for the ROTK scene where his Weathertop wound is hurting him, and he's closing up the Red Book...it's got some beautiful angsty Frodo shots, with more sound than we get during the movie. This is so beautiful it's downright inspiring. <3 Now I feel like writing some more fic!!! Seriously, doesn't he look so poorly, so unwell?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aVMq7ynj_64

Thought y'all might enjoy, and I'd like to keep it for later too. :)

<3

-Febobe :)

Cross-posted to LJ & DW. Comments welcome on either or both; take your pick! :)

FIC: "An Orphaned Son's Longing" (1/1) by Febobe

2015-05-10T21:02:06Z

For Mother's Day, here's a little fic I wrote. It's Frodo-centric, as usual, and features some mention - sometimes more! - of THREE lost mothers in Middle-earth....

Frodo sat upon the fountain in the King's garden - he had been given leave to go there whenever he wished, and tonight he did not feel like company, and the garden seemed empty. It was Mothering Day in Gondor, and tonight the whole kingdom was celebrating the honor and deeds of mothers all over. His heart ached for how many memories of his own mother had been eaten away by the Ring, and his heart ached even more for the fact that some part of him longed to hold the Ring again still. *How wicked could I be*, he wondered, *if I would prefer that evil, twisted thing to the memories of my mother*?

Someone touched his shoulder, and he started. But it was only Arwen, and beside her stood Strider - Aragorn, Frodo reminded himself with difficulty.

"Do memories haunt you tonight, tithen min?" Arwen asked softly, sitting beside him.

Frodo swallowed and looked down. "Memories - and the absence of them," he murmured softly. "I miss my mother. And yet so much of what I *could* remember was taken from me by the Ring. I remember my fourth birthday, but not my ninth. I remember her scent but not the way she wore her hair most often. What kind of son does that make me?"

"I have not suffered as you have," Aragorn said, coming to sit on the other side of Frodo, "but I cannot recall how my mother wore her hair either. I remember her voice but not her scent. I remember her words, but not her hands. And I know that cannot help you feel better. But I do guess aright when I say that it troubles you more tonight, when all of Gondo honors their mothers?"

Frodo gave a small nod.

"My mother yet lives," Arwen said softly, "but I shall never see her again. Nor shall my brothers. I wonder how she feels, with empty arms." She slipped her arm gently around Frodo. It felt wonderful - soft and warm, and full of love. He snuggled closer, and Aragorn slid over to slide his strong arm around them both. "How has it felt, Frodo, missing your mother since you woke here in the city?"

Frodo considered the question. A deep pain welled up in his heart. Of all the people he had missed most, the most surprising and the strongest had been his longing to see his mother again, to be held and cuddled and rocked as if he were but a child. The whole ordeal had awoken in him the very qualities he had spent decades burying - his need for affection, his need for gentleness, his need for a mother's tenderness and care. Bilbo had been wonderful to him, but Bilbo could never be a mother, nor had he tried. The two of them had been just a pair of bachelors together; he had been nearer to a father than aught else, but mostly he had been more of an uncle figure. Frodo could still clearly recall the last time he had felt a mother's love, and that had been the night his parents went out boating, the night which had sealed his fate. Perhaps it had also been the saving of the world, but Frodo felf himself hard-pressed to care so much for that at present, when every day he woke with pain in mind, body, and spirit, and every night he went to bed with more of the same. He wanted to weep in a mother's arms. He wanted someone soft and sweet to dry his tears and tell him she was there. He wanted someone to hold him while he wept for the unfairness of it all, for every loss, for every hole in his memory. Doubtless he would never have that again.

"It feels - like a need with no answer," he ventured at last, "like a riddle, like a puzzle no one can solve. It feels like a hole rent in the fabric of my spirit. It hurts so much I can hardly breathe."

Arwen dropped a kiss onto Frodo's dark curls. "Ai, little one! I can only imagine. And you lost your mother at such a tender age, too, younger than either of us were when we lost our mothers." She stroked Frodo's arm gently. "I cannot replace your mother, nor would I try. She must have been the most remarkable ladyhobbit ever born to produce such a child as yourself."

Frodo felt heat rising to his cheeks, but he managed a small smile. "Thank you."

"I cannot replace her," Arwen repeated, "but - am I right in thinking I discern in you a longing to be mothered?"

Frodo's cheeks grew hotter still. He felt almost ashamed to admit it.

"You can say it, Frodo," Aragorn said softly. "There is no shame in feeling thus."

Tears began to roll down Frodo's thin cheeks. "I do long for it," he said. "I do. I have not had a mamma since before I was a tween, but - I miss her more now than I did even then. I want - such foolish things I want! - I wish someone would hold me, and rock me, and give me milk from a cup, and tell me it is all right, that she is here, and - and then maybe - maybe I could believe that I am safe at last. But it is ridiculous to even think of such a thing."

"It is hardly ridiculous," said Arwen. "Frodo, did anyone ever tell you about *my* Ami?"

Frodo shook his head sadly. "I - I heard - rumors," he said. "That - that she sailed - West - long, long ago. Before even Bilbo was born."

"She did," Arwen replied. "She was traveling with me from Lothlorien, where she grew up, where my grandparents yet live - you may recall, Galadriel is my daernaneth - when we were attacked by orcs."

Frodo's eyes widened. He looked up at Arwen in astonishment.

"She urged me to ride back, and I did not wish to leave her," Arwen continued, her grey eyes misty. "But the guard shouted at me to ride, and so I did, and so my mother saved me, though she herself was captured and tormented - and she, like you, received a poisoned wound from a fell blade."

Frodo swallowed against a tight throat. He could not take his eyes from Arwen's face.

"My brothers rescued her, and brought her home. But she was never the same again." Arwen's face seemed shadowed even in the starlight. "Ada was able to heal her body, as he did yours, though your wound was even more severe. But he was never able to fully heal Ami's fea, and so she could not bear to stay, and went to seek healing over the Sea." She swallowed and looked down, her long hair falling in waves. "She wept terribly, and I could not understand why. She would not tell me. Later my daernaneth told me that she had looked into the Mirror, and had seen that none of her children would follow her. I only learned of that when I came to the city and married. She did not wish to tell me before." Arwen tossed her hair back and straightened, then looked at Frodo and gave a small smile that seemed warm as sunlight on a summer day. "Do you know why I wish you to hear this, little one?"

Frodo shook his head. "I am sorry for all that," he said. "But no - I do not understand. Forgive me."

Arwen gathered him close. "Because you, too, seem to be so wounded in fea that you have not found healing here," she said. "Ada told us what he determined from spending time with you. He said that he could do nothing more to aid you - that he would be happy to see that you are always well-cared for, when you are in his company, and Estel and I said the same. But the three of us agree there is no healing left to complete what little has been managed here."

Despair welled afresh in Frodo's heart. "So I must pass the rest of my days thus," he said gloomily. "In pain and in sorrow. For what was I saved? I would rather have gone on to whatever rest I could hope to find."

"Ai, but there is more, Frodo," Aragorn said. "Arwen has a special gift for you."

"I do indeed," Arwen said. "As you know, Frodo, I have chosen my fate, and I will not sail West with Ada when he departs. And my mother will be sorely grieved to be without her children. My brothers and I have made a pact. Elladan wishes to give his place on the ship to Bilbo, first of the Ring-bearers. Bilbo has lived a long life, and it would be pleasant for him if he could pass his final years in the West, where many hurts are healed. I have watched him these many months while you have been away, and it has sorely grieved him knowing what his seemingly insignificant treasure has inflicted upon you. He cannot stop talking about how it; he says it is his fault, his fault, and that he deserves no kindess we can afford him after what he has done to you, most beloved in all the world to him. He has wept and worried, and it has aged him. But we should like to see those hurts healed."

"I never wanted Bilbo to feel it was his fault!" Frodo said, tears welling afresh in his eyes. "He didn't know. He had no way of knowing."

"I know, dearest." Arwen clasped Frodo's hurt hand in hers and stroked it tenderly. "But it worries him. As you feel many things are *your* fault which are not."

Frodo could not control the flow of tears now. He wept openly. Arwen waited, stroking his hand. Aragorn kissed his curls and held him close.

"Frodo...you too need healing," Arwen said at last. "And my mother weeps for the loss of her children. You long for mothering, and I cannot restore your mother to you. My mother longs to mother again, and I cannot give her children back to her. I know she would not be the same as Primula Brandybuck Baggins, but - would you allow her to comfort you in your mother's stead? Would you consider offering her the chance to live as the mother of a child again? I know you are past childhood, but your mother was taken from you far too soon, and you are younger by far than even myself, youngest of my parents' children."

Frodo blinked, looking up at Arwen in astonishment. Did Arwen mean what he thought she meant?

"You mean," he asked in wonder, "that *I* could sail over Sea? With Bilbo? With Hir Elrond?"

Arwen smiled and nodded. "Yes, Frodo. I would like to give my place to you. Both on the ship and in my parents' home over the Sea. I have spoken to Ada, and he agrees that he and Ami would be honored to have you become part of their home. And I have also spoken to Mithrandir, who will go too, and to Daernaneth. Who, I might add, is exceedingly grateful to you, for not only have you vanquished a great evil from the world - you also made it possible for her to go into the West. She was counted one of the Kinslayers, but the choice you laid before her - Frodo, she passed that test, and thus has been counted forgiven. But had you not crossed her path, she would likely have never seen her only child, my Ami, again." She clasped Frodo's hand. "Our family has no means of adequately expressing our gratitude. Allow us to become your extended family. Allow us to give you what you need, insofar as we can provide it." She relased Frodo's hand and reached back to unfasten a chain about her throat. Upon it was set a shining white gem, pure as the dawn. "This is for you," she said, pressing it gently into Frodo's hand as Aragorn raised it, palm up. "When the memory of the pain and the darkness troubles you, this may give you a measure of peace. And if, when the time comes, you wish not to sail West, you shall not be compelled. But the choice is yours, and Daernaneth tells me that she saw in the Mirror my Ami, well again, taking you in her arms. And she laughed for joy, for she loved you so already, though you had only just arrived."

Frodo allowed Aragorn to help him fasten the chain about his neck. He could hardly breathe with the wonder of it all. Truly? He could go into the West, like the elves, and there perhaps find some peace?

"And when the time comes, Sam may join you, if it please him," Arwen added. "My brother Elrohir wishes to offer his place to the last of the Ring-bearers. We know what service Sam did for you during your long journey. It shall be your choice when to tell him. But tonight, you must rest." She smiled. "I think that Estel and I are lonely tonight, what with all the talk of mothers," she said, "and I have not been made a mother yet. Will you permit me the opportunity to practice by spending the night in our chambers?"

Frodo blinked. He certainly could not imagine intruding on the privacy of a couple still but newly wed!
"I could never impose - " he began, but Aragorn smiled and put a finger to his lips.

"I have to return and close out the festivities before the night ends," he said, "and my queen tells me her arms are lonely. And I did not see you eat a bite before you slipped away. Perhaps you would return to our chambers with her and permit her to offer you such comfort as she can? She may seem young, but I assure you she is older than either of our mothers would be, had they lived to see our accomplishments." He rubbed Frodo's back gently. "Primula would be most proud of you, I am certain," he said. "Did you never think that perhaps it was she who sent across your path ladies who wish to treat you as their child? Perhaps she sees you even now, and is this very moment watching over you. Perhaps she has been watching over you every step of your dark journey."

Frodo began to cry afresh, and when Arwen gathered him into her arms, he did not resist. She rocked him gently as if he were her babe...and when at last his tears began to subside a little, she rose.

"It isn't seemly, if anyone sees - " Frodo began to protest, but Arwen smiled.

"I need some practice," she said simply. "Elrond's daughter has not been permitted to hold anything more than banners and needlework for centuries, and you are not so heavy as some of the pieces I have made - but a living, breathing person is a different matter. Do you trust me not to drop you?"

Frodo laughed, for the first time since his awakening.

"I would trust you more than anyone else in the world," he said, and laid his head upon her shoulder, closing his eyes.

"Shall I send up a tray?" Aragorn asked as they crossed into the inner hall.

"Indeed," said Arwen, "and make it easy to eat and drink. I think someone might be exhausted."

If Frodo heard her, he did not comment. Perhaps he was already dreaming pleasant dreams - dreams of a silver-haired elleth with laughing eyes and open arms.

-the end-

ETA: I might lengthen the ending just a bit when I have time. On a time crunch as my in-laws are coming over!

Cross-posted to LJ & DW. Comments welcome on either or both; take your pick! :)

"Arrangements" by Febobe (1/1), a Birthday Ficlet

2014-09-22T17:07:56Z

Title: Arrangments
Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FBoBE/"Febobe")
E-mail: febobe at yahoo dot com
Feedback: Welcomed. Constructive only, please . . . no flaming.
Characters: Sam, Bilbo, references to Frodo
Rating: G. No sex, slash, or profanity.
Summary: That promise Sam makes to Gandalf that he won't ever leave Frodo? He made that promise to someone else, long before.... Bookverse gapfiller/hints of possible AUness, though I will confess that Sam's desc of Frodo comes from movieverse PJ Frodo.
Story Notes: There is canon evidence suggesting that Sam "did for" Frodo at Bag End prior to their departure on the Quest, as evidenced by two places in particular:

(from "The Stairs of Cirith Ungol," TTT) "Then at a great distance, as if it came out of memories of the Shire, some sunlit early morning, when the day called and doors were opening, he heard Sam's voice speaking. `Wake up, Mr. Frodo! Wake up! ' Had the voice added: `Your breakfast is ready,' he would hardly have been surprised."

(from "The Tower of Cirith Ungol," ROTK) "Sam felt that he could sit like that in endless happiness; but it was not allowed. It was not enough for him to find his master, he had still to try and save him. He kissed Frodo's forehead. 'Come! Wake up, Mr. Frodo!' he said, trying to sound as cheerful as he had when he drew back the curtains at Bag End on a summer's morning."

What these two passages indicate about Frodo's relationship with Sam is controversial, as evidenced by the discussion on this page: http://users.bestweb.net/~jfgm/HerbsWeb/Discussion/Discussion01%20-%20Sam%20and%20Frodo.htm Some argue that it supports a slash reading of these characters; however, as most of my long-time readers know, I am not a slash writer, and so that is not my interpretation. In addition, I seriously doubt that JRRT would have intended these comments to be interpreted as anything other than a relationship similar to the relationship which has been frequently noted as potentially familiar to JRRT and most likely his intent in creating the role of Sam: the relationship of a British military officer and his "batman," a lower-ranking soldier assigned to serve the officer. Frequently batmen would follow their officers into personal service as valets after the war, a role which Sam presumably may have had as well, given that he and Rosie moved into Bag End with Frodo at Frodo's invitation. The reference commonly cited for JRRT's use of this relationship as inspiration in developing Sam comes from a letter written by him; extensive discussion is available on this site http://johngarth.wordpress.com/2014/02/13/sam-gamgee-and-tolkiens-batmen/ (link provided by the generous-hearted and kind Shirebound!). :) I am especially fond of the comments on that site regarding the progressive (regressive, really) inversion of their relationship, how Frodo becomes increasingly dependent upon Sam and how the barriers between them break down. See also the information answering, "What is a batman?" at http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/masterpiece/downtonabbey/bonneville.html (yes, Downton Abbey has a batman-turned-valet).

This fic is a look at how I imagine that relationship between Frodo and Sam began, written for the Baggins Birthday 2014. :) I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)

For permission to reproduce any part of this fanfic, please e-mail your
request to febobe at yahoo dot com.

DISCLAIMER: The characters, places, and story of The Lord of the Rings
are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and consequently of the Tolkien
Estate, with select rights by Tolkien Enterprises. This piece appears
purely as fanfiction and is not intended to claim ownership of Tolkien's
work in any way. Please e-mail me if you have concerns. Original
characters, such as Mornaduial and Narien, are my own work; please do
not use my creations in your work. Please respect my original
contributions. Furthermore, please do NOT consider any treatments or
remedies within this story safe or effective for use: these are included
as fictitious hobbit care, not real human medical practice, and while
some can indeed be traced to actual therapeutic practices, could be
dangerous. Please consult your health care professional before treating
yourself or others for any condition or symptom.

ARRANGEMENTS by Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FBoBE/"Febobe")

I reckon I felt like pacing, only it wouldn't do to act so familiar in Mr. Bilbo's front parlor. I hardly ever had call to come inside Bag End usually, but Mr. Bilbo had told me to come in once I finished picking the tomatoes and tending to the gardens - and I was right worried. He didn't seem like he was mad or nothing, but he hadn't ever asked to see me in private inside before, not outside o'lessons. If he had special instructions, usually he just came out and talked to me a bit while I worked, and I'd lay off long enough to make sure I was clear what he wanted.

Was I going to lose my place?

There was the problem with them aphids a couple years ago. I got that cleared up quick, though. Was he upset about that, this long after? Maybe I'd missed a weed - no, no, I never missed weeds when I pulled, though sometimes I had to pull 'em every day for weeks to keep 'em from getting too strong a foothold.
Mr. Bilbo's big birthday-party, which he was sharing with Mr. Frodo, was coming up. Maybe the party cost so much he couldn't afford to keep me on? But that didn't make no sense. Mr. Bilbo had been well-to-do before his journey, and better off after, or so my Gaffer had always said. He and Mr. Frodo lived modestly - well, he indulged Mr. Frodo quite a bit, but Mr. Frodo didn't have the sort o'nature where he went out spending all his pocket-money.

It was Mr. Frodo I'd miss even worse than old Mr. Bilbo, though. Mr. Bilbo had taught me my letters. He'd taught me about the Elves. But Mr. Frodo - he was such a kind and friendly soul, he was. Sometimes he'd let me read with him out o'his books, for practice. Sometimes he'd bring Mam a present he'd bought for her himself, just for no reason in particular, usually something for our supper. We knew Mr. Bilbo was like that, but we hadn't had no idea what Mr. Frodo would be like, 'cept rumour had it he was a right scoundrel. But when he came, he weren't no scoundrel, only this pale tweenager, thinner than most hobbits I knew, with great big blue eyes.

And now he was going to come of age.

Was Mr. Bilbo going to tell me that he and Mr. Frodo were going away on adventures?

"Thank you for joining me, Sam." Mr. Bilbo came into the parlor, and he was carrying a tea-tray. On it he had his favorite tea-pot - one made like the top of a mushroom - and two tea-cups, two little plates, along with seed-cakes and little sandwiches. He set the tray down on the table near the sofa. "Won't you sit with me, and enjoy some tea?"

I felt my face turning red. "Oh, sir, Mr. Frodo ought to be joining you, not me. I'll just come back when you've had time to finish."

"Frodo is in Hobbiton on Party Business today," Mr. Bilbo said kindly. "I prepared this for the two of us. Please, come and sit."

Well, I didn't know what to think, 'cept if he were about to fire me, it was the nicest I'd ever heard of anybody going about firing a body, but I went over and sat down on the edge of the sofa. I was so afraid o'getting it dirty. I'd washed up as best I could, but sometimes dirt gets on you when you're a gardener, and I hadn't expected to be asked to sit.

"How do you like your tea, Sam?"

It weren't fitting for Mr. Bilbo to be pouring tea for me like this. My Gaffer would whip me good. But I didn't think it would be polite to correct him neither.

"Oh, plain's fine, sir. It's how I drink it at home."

"Are you sure you won't have a lump or two of sugar? Some honey? Milk?"

I had never had the luxury of having sugar at home. Honey and milk we had, but milk was for drinking by the youngest of us when we had it, and we didn't always. Honey we tried to save for treating sore throats and coughs. I wasn't even sure how tea would taste with sugar in it. "Thank you, sir, but this is just fine," I said, accepting the tea as he held it out to me. I was so afeared I'd drop the little cup and saucer, Mr. Bilbo's good china.

"Have some cakes and sandwiches," Mr. Bilbo added, setting a little plate in front of me. "Take whatever you like. There's more in the kitchen if we should need it."

It would've been ruder to refuse than to accept - Mam had taught me that much - so I accepted one seed-cake and one small sandwich. The sandwiches was cut up real fancy, the crusts off the bread, and real white bread too, not the coarse brown kind Mam always baked. I knew Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo ate white bread from the bakery, but the only times I'd had any myself were on the occasions when I'd worked extra long days and Mr. Frodo had brought me sandwiches he and Mr. Bilbo had made up for me. I always brought a packed lunch from home, so's I wouldn't have to leave to go back home and lose too much time, but I can't say those sandwiches didn't go down a treat.

But I couldn't help wondering just what Mr. Bilbo wasn't saying.

"So, I suppose you're wondering what I asked you in to talk about," Mr. Bilbo said, as if he guessed my mind. He poured his own tea and added two lumps of sugar and a little bit o'milk.

"Well, yes, sir, I am. If I've give offense, I'm real sorry."

Mr. Bilbo smiled kindly. "Ah, Sam! You have *never* given the slightest offense. Indeed, I have been extraordinarily pleased with your work. My gardens have never been more beautiful nor produced more robust vegetables." He leaned closer. I could smell ink and paper on him, some of the most wonderful smells in the whole world outside o'good tilled earth and green growing things. I couldn't imagine sitting locked up with ink and paper all day like Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo did so often, but it seemed magical to me that they could do it. "The truth is - I have a secret I must tell you. But first, I require your solemn oath that you shall keep it to yourself, and tell no one - not your Gaffer, not your Mam, not even my Frodo."

Well, now, a secret from Mr. Frodo? I'd be lying if I said I weren't real curious. But I knew I had to give my word. "I swear it, sir. On my honor, I won't tell a living soul. Not even Mr. Frodo."

Mr. Bilbo seemed to relax a little then. "Sam, my lad," he said, "in another month I shall be one hundred and eleven - eleventy-one - years of age. Quite an auspicious age, if I may say so myself! But - my Frodo will be only thirty-three, just come of age, and he has so much living left to be done. I, on the other hand, am itching to see the wider world again - and so I shall be leaving the Shire."

Well, I just about dropped Mr. Bilbo's fine cup and saucer, but I managed to ease it onto the table.

"Leave, sir?" I asked. "But - will Mr. Frodo go with you? What's to become of your garden, if you go?"

Mr. Bilbo smiled. "Never fear, Sam. I hope that my garden will be tended by your gifted hands for many years to come. I am leaving everything of mine to Frodo - including Bag End, and all the land with it - and I am trusting that he will keep you on. I have no doubt that he will; he is most fond of you."

I felt myself blushing. "I'm real fond o'him, too, sir. A perfect gentlehobbit, just like you, Mr. Bilbo, sir."

"Thank you, Sam. But there is more."

"More, sir?" I picked up a seed-cake and ate on it for something to do with my hands. I was that nervous, I was.

"No doubt you recall that Mr. Frodo has been - unwell - often over the years he has lived here. I might also note that he is not much of a 'morning person,' shall we say?" Mr. Bilbo's eyes looked misty, as if he was blinking back tears. "I would feel ever so much better in leaving him if I knew that there would be a reliable person - someone who cares for Frodo as I do, and who knows how to cook exceptionally well for a hobbit - who might come in each morning, and awaken him, and prepare his breakfast. Someone who might keep the place dusted and cleaned for him. Someone who might look after him when he is ill, and secure such help as he might need. Someone to look after him, in short." He looked at me real serious. "I would triple your wages, and I would pay you for a year in advance."

Well, I was real glad I'd set that stuff down, 'cause I'd have dropped it sure's the world at that news.

"Sir, you don't have to do that," I said. "I'll give you my word."

"Oh, but I *want* to, Sam." Mr. Bilbo leaned forward and held out a small purse. "In here, you will find the appropriate wages. And there will be a special bonus for you when I have our birthday-party. In the meantime, I should like for you to come in as often as you can and let me show you our kitchen, our pots and pans, our dishes."

"But sir - won't Mr. Frodo know, if he's here?"

"I shall tell him what you will be doing. But I will tell him it's a special birthday-present to him. He shan't have to know I'm leaving." Mr. Bilbo smiled sadly. "Take this, Sam. Consider it but poor payment for the treasure of my heart I entrust now to your care."

I took the purse. It was real heavy, more money than I'd ever had in my hand at one time before. We'd make this last, o'course - but I would have to take a little and buy something special for Mam. And for Marigold. I couldn't imagine what it meant, knowing I'd be doing in and out of Bag End, but - I could make that work just fine. I'd come in all cleaned up every morning, and get Mr. Frodo up and fed before I went to the garden, and I could check on him closer to lunch. Maybe I could even bake up a pan of muffins for his second breakfast and elevenses.

"You can trust me, sir," I said firmly. "I'll take good care o'him. I won't ever leave him, or my name's not Samwise Gamgee."

-the end-

Cross-posted to LJ & DW. Comments welcome on either or both; take your pick! :)

Three Awesome Reading Articles :) - Saving for Later!

2013-06-29T19:49:17Z

Three AWESOME, ROCKIN' articles on reading I just want to have for later. <3 Enjoy if you like - I did, and I think most of my friends around here are about as bookish as I am, so y'all might like them too, even though you already KNOW the benefits of reading. :)

-Febobe :)

http://www.lifehack.org/articles/lifestyle/10-benefits-reading-why-you-should-read-everyday.html

http://www.lifehack.org/articles/lifestyle/how-to-read-52-books-in-52-weeks-and-save-yourself-21000.html?utm_source=post&utm_medium=whatsthepointrightwhybothertryingtoreadabookaweekforayear&utm_campaign=innerlink

http://www.lifehack.org/articles/lifestyle/14-ways-to-cultivate-a-lifetime-reading-habit.html?utm_source=post&utm_medium=wanttocultivatealifetimereadinghabitheresarelatedarticleforyou&utm_campaign=innerlink

Cross-posted to LJ & DW. Comments welcome on either or both; take your pick! :)

FIC: "Into the East" by Febobe (17/?, PG)

2012-08-26T13:48:00Z

The first sixteen chapters were posted over the period Sept. 7-19, 2011. I don't find that I had posted Ch. 17 yet; if it's a repeat, please forgive me, but I don't see it, so I don't think I'd gotten that far. Ch. 18 to come in the next few days as well.

I don't want to say too much just yet, but I've had a rush of new ideas for what's ahead in this fic, and I think y'all will REALLY enjoy what's coming several chapters down the road. And no, Frodo is NOT going to die in this fic. :) In fact, he's going to be having several new and exciting small adventures which will delight him, perhaps Sam, and possibly our beloved readers too. :)

Love always,
Febobe :)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Well, that night went a sight better, I reckon, than the one before. Mr. Frodo mostly slept, and though he was still real feverish, he mostly stayed real quiet 'cept for his cough. Lady Eowyn and Kalil took turn about sitting with us and they finally talked me into lying down some time after midnight, and when I woke up Master Merry and Master Pippin had already been downstairs, making creamed mushrooms on toast for all of us, Mr. Frodo included, and bless me if Master Pippin didn't take charge o'getting Mr. Frodo fed, and did a right nice job o'that too.

"Pippin heard that they have fresh shrimp at the market," Master Merry explained to me while Mr. Frodo was eating, "and he's sent someone to buy the best they can find. He thinks that might perk Frodo's appetite up a little; remember how he always liked them in Minas Tirith?"

I never did know quite how I felt about them shrimp things, since I'd seen 'em before their legs and heads and all got taken off, and even then, with the tails, they still didn't look like nothing I'd want to put in my mouth, but Mr. Frodo, true enough, had been right fond o'them. I didn't know about giving him something like that when he was so poorly, but he had to eat something, and I'd a'given my right arm to see him interested in food like he used to be. So I nodded.

"Might as well. I don't know how he'll take to 'em now, but it can't hurt to try."

"Pippin knows how they fried them in Minas Tirith, the way Frodo liked them then, and how to make the sauce. And here there are plenty of lemons to serve in wedges with it. That'll be nice." Master Merry patted me on the back. "Don't fret, Sam. We'll help you with him. You don't have to do it alone any more."

Well, I reckon that about set me to snuffling, but I bucked up and tried not to get teary. I'd had to do for Mr. Frodo alone that last part o'the way, and I'd got so used to it that it was hard now to let people help. But Master Merry and Master Pippin were his kin, and I didn't reckon I ought to shut family out, and they'd been brave enough to come with us, now, hadn't they? At least they did care, and that was better than if they didn't.

"I was thinking," Master Merry said, glancing over like he was making sure Mr. Frodo was still busy eating, "that maybe Frodo would show more interest in food if we could start giving him some of what they make here. He always was fascinated by foreign food - remember?"

"I remember, sir." I did. In Rivendell, he weren't that interested in eating, not till Lord Elrond started bringing in dishes that were specialties there, things he hadn't never seen before, and then he got real interested in eating. He'd liked trying new stuff in Minas Tirith, too, like that shrimp, and lobsters too, and sometimes I could get him to eat that when he didn't feel much up to anything else. It was Mr. Frodo's way to be curious about new places and new ways o'doing things. I was used to that by now, so I knew Master Merry had a point.

"Why don't we talk to Kalil about it? He'll have some good suggestions for starters, I'm sure. He came up with that sweet rice with milk last night, and Frodo ate every last bite, I tell you. He even wanted to know could we have it again today. Of course I told him we could. Kalil says it's not so hard to make. He's going to teach me how to make it, and Pippin too, because we'd like to learn."

Well, now, that was promising enough. "I reckon it couldn't hurt."

Once we all got breakfast finished up, I told Master Pippin and Master Merry to go on down to the kitchen and check on them shrimp, and see what was what, since it'd be lunchtime before we knew it. Kalil had gone out to talk with Faramir and Eowyn, but he came back, so it was just us with Mr. Frodo. Which was fine by me. And with just the three of us, it seemed like as good a time as any to bring up what Master Merry had said.

"Mr. Frodo, sir," I said, "we was wondering, Master Merry and me, whether you might like to try some more o'that foreign food. When Kalil says you're up to it, o'course. We was thinking since you liked that sweet rice so good, maybe there's other things you'd like too."

His whole face lit up like the sun coming out after a rainstorm. "Oh! I *would* like that. Very much, actually."

I looked up at Kalil. "What d'you think? Is there anything they make here he could have, something that wouldn't hurt him, but - a change, so to speak? I know he's got to be tired of eating the same old thing, 'cause he's liked everything you've made him."

Kalil nodded. "There are some things which would be good. We will start little master with soft, easy foods. Things which should sit well. If he takes them well, we try spicier food." He grinned at me, and all of a sudden I wondered what I'd got myself into. "You try too, little friend. You try new food with him."

Mr. Frodo looked at me then, and laughed, and didn't choke, and it was the most beautiful thing in the world. "You must, Sam!" he said. "We shall have another adventure, and this one far better than the last."

"I can arrange something for tea, and for dinner," said Kalil. "Little master's friends making lunch for him. We leave that alone; shrimp will be good for him. But I talk to the kitchen, and get something nice for tea and dinner."

Well, that sounded good enough to me, and Mr. Frodo looked more interested than I'd seen him in anything for a while, so I was right happy with that.

"Would you like me to read for you, sir?" I asked him. "Or maybe you'd like a nice bath?"

"A bath would be nice," said Mr. Frodo. "Do we still have that soap - sandalwood, I think it was called? I should like to use that."

Kalil stepped out to call down for water, and I checked, and sure enough we had that soap still, so I told Mr. Frodo yes, and then when the water was brought up, and not before, I started getting him out o'his night-shirt and wrapped up in a blanket so we could take him to the tub without him catching a chill. Not that there seemed to be much danger o'that here, as warm as it always felt to me. But I knew Mr. Frodo weren't as strong as me or Master Merry or Master Pippin, so I wrapped him up good, and then Kalil carried him for me and put him in the tub, real gentle. Then Kalil went downstairs to the kitchen while I gave Mr. Frodo his bath.

Quiet it was, so quiet, save for the sounds of people passing in the street below, and the lapping o'the water in the bath-tub now and then. It was real peaceful, and a warm breeze blew in, which Mr. Frodo seemed to like.

"It smells of sunshine," he said.

"I reckon it does indeed, sir. Maybe soon you'll be better enough to lie out there in the sun and soak up all that good daylight."

"I should like that." He bent his head forward for me to wash his hair. "Sam ... do you remember how dark it was in Mordor? How little light there was?"

"I remember, sir." I wet his hair good and poured on some stuff from a little bottle Eowyn had told me was good for washing hair. Then I worked it up into a lather. "There seems to be all kinds o'light here, though. Master Merry and Master Pippin say it's nice out."

"I can taste fruit in the air." He shifted a little in the tub as I rinsed the soap out o'his curls. "It tastes of oranges. And spices, I think. Some sort of spices."

"There's all kinds o'spices here, sir. You wouldn't believe what all. I don't reckon I know 'em all even close."

"Did you enjoy dinner last night?" His voice sounded warm, like he was amused, and when he sat up and let me dry his hair, he was smiling.

"It was good, real good. Strange. But good."

"What did you have to eat?"

The longing in his voice made me so glad I could've danced. "There was some kind o'battered fish on sticks. Them skewer things. And nuts with salt and pepper. And then..." I had to think about it for a minute to remember. "Lamb. It had a kind of sauce, and rice that smelled real good, and mushrooms in a sauce. Poppy seeds and almonds. And there was this flat bread with onion and mint to eat with it. And creamy little things for dessert. Sir, you'd love it. You would've eaten them mushrooms up."

"Mmm. It does sound delicious. Maybe I can get up for dinner eventually. Do you think I could?"

Well, I weren't about to discourage him hoping. "I don't see why not, sir, once you get some o'your strength back. I'd be real glad to sit at a table with you."

"I'd like that, Sam." He smiled from under a mop o'damp curls. "I would."

-to be continued-

FIC: "Smoke & Shrimp" by Febobe (1/1, G)

2012-08-25T21:54:19Z

The teaser preview I posted earlier today comes from this fic's opening, so those who read that will recognise the beginning. :) Bon appetit!

This fic is set in post-Quest Minas Tirith, before the arrival of Arwen and Elrond and their party, fairly early into Frodo's recovery - but far enough out that he is no longer in danger. It is a deviation from my usual practise of assuming Gondorian food to be Italian in nature. Please pardon the amount of canon-bending in this. If you can't tolerate some fun with canon, then you definitely don't want to read this, as it's not exactly what you'd call orthodox. ;) Oh, and you may notice that Sam reacts differently to shrimp here than he expresses in "Into the East." I tend to vary in whether I keep my fics consistent across the board...and one thing I love to vary is Frodo and Sam in their reactions to fish and seafood. It makes me happy to explore.

And this was another one that took a surprise turn on me. I thought it was done, but I felt like something was missing, and I caught hints of it as I was titling the piece...but when I started to paste it over to post here, I suddenly knew what was missing, so I went back and finished it. Man, talk about fic taking you places you didn't even know you were going to go....

Love,
Febobe :)

"I still don't see why you had to move me *here*," Frodo grumbled as Aragorn tucked him into the big bed. "I was quite happy in my own room."

"I have my reasons, Frodo," said Aragorn, smiling. "Are you quite certain you do not wish to lie outside on the balcony? I assure you, you will be in no danger."

"I'm sure I'd take a chill," sniffed Frodo indignantly. "And then a fever. And then how would you feel?"

"Begging your pardon, sir, but it *is* a very nice day out there," Sam put in, propping pillows behind Frodo's shoulders and head. "Not a cloud in the sky."

"Most likely it's waiting for me to come out," said Frodo gloomily. "Then it'll pour. And I'll get soaked before Aragorn can get me inside, and I'll catch cold."

"Suit yourself," Aragorn replied. "I, however, have things to do outside, so *I* shall be on the balcony."

"You aren't going to leave me alone, are you, Sam?" asked Frodo plaintively.

"O'course not, sir." Sam smoothed Frodo's covers and took a seat on a stool beside the bed. "I'll be right here. You just tell me what you want."

"Lunch, in a while," said Frodo. "I do hope they have something nice. I'm tired of soup and jellies."

There was a crackling sound from the balcony. Sam did not stir, but Frodo cast a suspicious glance in that direction.

"Is Aragorn quite certain the king's chambers are secured?" he asked. "I could swear that sounded like someone setting a fire."

"He's sure, sir," said Sam. "I helped him check, too. You just rest now. Everything's fine."

A few more crackling and popping sounds ... and then ... Frodo sniffed, eyes widening.

"Sam, that's - that's *smoke*!"

"It is, sir. But smell. It's not so bad."

Frodo sniffed nervously. "It smells like applewood," he said. "What would applewood smoke be doing up here?" He looked toward the balcony, the open doors between it and the room in which he lay. "Aragorn," he called, "what *are* you doing out there? I smell smoke!"

"Perhaps you should let Sam walk you out so you can see!" called Aragorn.

Frodo glared in the direction of the voice, but glanced at Sam.

"He knows I've hardly walked since - everything," he said miserably in an undertone. "I don't know that I feel strong enough."

"Come now, sir. You can do it. I'll help. And if you start feeling at all faint, I'll pick you right up and carry you straight back to bed."

"I suppose I could try," sighed Frodo, sitting up and sliding his legs over the edge of the bed. He looked at the floor as if it were made of boiling lava. "I'm so afraid."

"It's not far, Mr. Frodo. And the view from up here is downright beautiful. I promise. You'll be glad to be out. Strider's made up a little bed for you and all, with blankets and pillows. You can be comfortable."

Grudgingly Frodo slipped down onto the floor, leaning against Sam for support, and ventured his weight onto his feet. With cautious steps he began to move toward the balcony, hesitating now and then, leaning on Sam like a drowning man clinging to a piece of driftwood.

As they approached the open doors, Frodo blinked, stopping dead in his tracks. There was some sort of brazier or something out there, set up close to the height of Aragorn's waist, or a little taller, and from it came smoke. Aragorn was setting things on it - cobs of corn, patties of meat, and skewers, or so it seemed, filled with mushrooms and onions, others with some little creatures Frodo had never before seen, little pink things with strange tails.

"What are you doing?" asked Frodo. "Is it not dangerous to have a fire here? Are you cooking?"

"It is a grill, Frodo, and quite safe, I assure you." Aragorn turned, smiling broadly. "The applewood chips make the most delicious grilled meats and seafood and vegetables. I thought it might help your appetite to enjoy a little cook-out of sorts." He gestured to a well-laid-out couch set with blankets and pillows some distance from the grill. Beside it stood a small table with glasses and a pitcher of some pale yellow liquid with slices of yellow fruit floating within. "Sit down. I am sure Sam would not mind pouring some lemonade for the two of you to enjoy while lunch is cooking."

Frodo inched toward the couch, still supported by Sam, but he looked back toward the grill now and then with interest.

"What are those little pink things with tails?" he asked. "I do like lemonade, but I've never seen those before."

"They are called shrimp," Aragorn said as Sam helped Frodo settle on the couch. "They are a kind of sea-food, and many people find them a great treat. I thought that you two might like them. These are what we call honey-grilled shrimp. They are marinated in honey before grilling, to sweeten the flavor."

"That *does* sound nice," said Frodo. "And one can hardly go wrong with grilled mushrooms, after all."

"Indeed." Aragorn smiled as Sam poured Frodo a glass of lemonade and offered it.

"Do you want a glass, Strider, sir?" asked Sam.

"I think I would like that, thank you, Sam," said Aragorn, turning some of the skewers and poking at the wood chips with a long metal thing, apparently designed for just such a purpose. He gestured toward a long table set out close by. "Perhaps when you have had some lemonade as well, you can look over our other dishes and tell your master what all we have for our lunch besides what is on the grill."

Sam brought a glass of lemonade over, then poured one for himself and went to examine the table.

"Sir, there's plenty o'cold salads," he said, "potato, and cabbage too, and some kind with corn and tomatoes and bell peppers, and there's plenty o'good fresh butter for the corn Strider's grilling, and some salt, and plates o'nice fresh vegetables - sliced tomatoes, and lettuce leaves, and sliced red and yellow onions, and lots o'pickles. A little pot o'mustard. Some kind o'red sauce. Sliced cheese, too. And there's cookies, gingersnaps and sugar cookies with frosting. And there's something here I hadn't seen before. Looks like taters to me, only they're - they're sliced up and fried crispy and thin."

"They are called potato chips," said Aragorn. "Have you not made them in the Shire?"

"Not like that," said Sam. "But they do look nice."

Frodo looked intrigued. He sat up, sipping his lemonade. "Could I have one potato chip, please?" he asked, looking at Strider. "Please, may I?"

"One, yes, for each of you," said Aragorn, "so that you will not spoil your lunch. But I warn you that you will not wish to stop at one. In fact, I suspect that I shall have to have them made for you on a regular basis once you taste them. They are quite ... addictive."

Sam brought a chip over to Frodo, and took a smaller one for himself. Both bit in, and their eyes widened. Sam looked at the plate in astonishment.

"Now, sir, *that* is *good?*!" he said emphatically. "I reckon I could make that, but that's not something I ever did think o'doing."

"They're salty," said Frodo. "Perfect."

"I thought you would enjoy them," said Aragorn with a grin. "A few minutes longer, and we may fill our plates. And besides the lemonade, I have a surprise." He gestured toward another area of the balcony, where - to Frodo's surprise - mugs waited on a table beside a great barrel.

"Beer?" Frodo asked, almost gaping. "Aragorn, is that beer? May we have some?"

"With lunch, yes, of course." Aragorn winked. "I thought that since neither of you have had any beer since - well, Rivendell - you might enjoy a few mugs of it now. There is plenty, and it is well chilled. I even had the mugs chilled especially, to make it more pleasant. Cold beer goes very well with honey-grilled shrimp." He gestured to a plate of buns beside him. "And I have another treat. Here in Gondor they like to grind beef and make what are called hamburgers. They are simply patties of ground beef. That is what all the trimmings on the table are for, the vegetables and pickles and sliced cheese. People here like to dress their sandwiches with these things."

"They do smell lovely," said Frodo, sniffing appreciatively. "I am absolutely starved."

Aragorn grinned. "Starved was what you were when I took you from Gandalf's arms," he said, "and feared that you would never wake again. Hobbits were not meant to be thin, but round of belly and face, with rosy cheeks and full stomachs. I am very glad to hear that you are hungry."

Frodo pinked a little. "Forgive me," he said. "Sometimes I forget."

"I am glad of it," said Aragorn. "I wish for you to forget as much as you possibly can of what you have endured. We must make new memories for you, to push out the darkness. Would you like to have cook-outs like this again? We could invite your cousins. Or we could just make it the three of us."

"I should like to have one with my cousins," said Frodo, "and Gandalf too. Do you think Legolas and Gimli would like to come as well? Would that be all right?"

"I am sure they would be delighted," said Aragorn, removing food from the grill and laying it out on platters, then carrying two at a time to the table and arranging them. "Sam, do you think you could help your master walk around and choose for himself what he would like? I can prepare his plate if you will help him."

"I can walk," said Frodo, setting his glass on the table and rising. "I can do it myself. I feel stronger out here in the air."

Sam looked at Aragorn in wonder, but Aragorn only smiled.

"As you wish, Frodo," he said. "If you feel shaky or faint, you need only tell us, and we will help you. Would you like Sam to help you prepare your plate?"

"Yes, please," said Frodo. "I should like that."

Sam, beaming, accompanied Frodo around the table as he selected small servings of everything. They heeded Aragorn's advice that some people liked the red sauce on shrimp, and mustard on their "hamburger," and before long Frodo had dressed his "hamburger" with a mountain of lettuce leaves, sliced tomatoes, sliced sweet pickles, cheese, and a little mustard, positioning it next to the skewers of grilled shrimp and vegetables on his plate. Once Sam had helped him settle on the couch, more lemonade was poured and a mug of beer fetched.

"Help yourself now, Sam," said Aragorn. "I shall go last."

Sam blushed, but Aragorn was obviously not going to take no for an answer, so he filled his own plate and settled down on another couch close to Frodo. Aragorn filled his plate and sat upon a bench beside the table, stretching his long legs out before him.

"It's WONDERFUL," said Frodo a few mouthfuls later. "That shrimp - how do you eat it? It's beautiful. I could make a meal off the mushrooms and onions, or the burger, but I want to try the shrimp."

"Do not eat the tails," Aragorn explained, and proceeded to instruct the hobbits in the finer points of eating shrimp. The moment Frodo bit in, his eyes went wide as saucers.

"Oh!" he cried, as soon as he had swallowed. "Oh, THAT is LOVELY! Aragorn, promise me we can have these again, please! Soon!"

"They are nice," said Sam, looking quite surprised. "And right sweet, too, with that honey on 'em."

"They're *delicious*," said Frodo. "Not as good as mushrooms, but nearly. And that "hamburger" is amazing. I could eat those every day, I think."

"Some day when we have the others, we shall make those and grilled sausages, too," said Aragorn. "There is something they do with sausages here called "hot dogs." They are not made of dog, but of spiced meat, and yet they are not exactly like the breakfast sausage you eat, more the other sort, such as you might travel with. I have seen hobbits grill sausages over the fire; it is something like that, only we put them on buns, with mustard and pickle relish and sometimes onions and a dish called chili, which is the hamburger meat crumbled up and cooked like a stew with hot spices."

"There is so much I do not know about Gondorian food," said Frodo. "I want to try it all while I am here. Will you teach us how to make the ground meat things? We could take that back home with us. I am sure we could get butchers to grind the beef for us."

"I would be happy to help you," said Aragorn. "The recipes would seem quite simple to hobbits, I think. We shall ensure you take some new tastes home from your travels."

"Home," said Frodo, and sighed. "I cannot imagine what it will be like to go home." He looked at Sam. "I know you must long to see Rosie. I wish I could take you to her now. Forgive me, Sam."

"Ain't nothing to forgive, Mr. Frodo." Sam smiled. "Nothing at all. We'll get back there soon enough, and I reckon she'll be there still. Just you think on getting stronger, getting your health back. Eat up as much o'this good food as you can. That'll help you better'n anything."

"I don't suppose there's any more grilled mushrooms," said Frodo hopefully, casting a glance in Aragorn's direction.

"I have two skewers with your name on them," said Aragorn, fetching them for him. "Eat up."

"Thank you," said Frodo. "Sam, would you like some too?"

"No, thank you, Mr. Frodo," said Sam. "Just you eat those up. Do you good."

They ate quietly for a time. At last Frodo looked up, studying Aragorn, then Sam.

"You knew," he said. "The two of you planned this, to get me outside."

"Did it not help?" asked Aragorn.

Frodo nodded, a soft smile brightening his features.

"It did," he said. "Thank you."

He paused and took another sip of lemonade. At last he drew a shaky breath.

"I am sorry," he began, "about earlier. It is only that - well, it all weighs on my mind at times, and at others it seems like a terrible nightmare no longer real. And yet I feel - broken, for lack of a better word. I do not feel really *well* again yet, nor do I feel any hope that I ever shall feel better, though I suppose it is possible. I still ache for the Ring, and it makes me wonder whether there is yet some darkness in my heart too deep for even the light to penetrate."

"You are but mortal, Frodo," said Aragorn, "and no mortal can resist the lure of that thing entirely. You managed far better than most, better than any human or elf would have, were they to carry it for even half so long. Do not fear! The ache may never pass. But it says nothing dark about you that it is there."

He looked down into his beer-mug.

"As for how you feel ... I do not know what will happen with the passage of time. I fear for your health. But it will do you much good to enjoy all that you can, to get up as much as you can manage, to walk in the sunshine and fresh air of the city, to eat and drink, to laugh whenever you can. At the very least, you may thus bring pleasure to your days. More so than remaining in bed. I will not force you past your strength, but I will tell you that you are recovered enough to be up and about as you can tolerate, and to eat what you would like, when you would like, though I would urge you to eat often, for you still have much weight to gain back."

His eyes met Frodo's.

"I will do all that I can to aid you. As will Sam. As will all the others, who love you as dearly as we. But you must first learn to help yourself."

Frodo swallowed.

"It's like when I was getting over my wound in Rivendell, isn't it?" he asked. "Remember when Sam was helping me button my shirt, and Lord Elrond said that I must do it myself? I was angry with him, and hurt, and my shoulder ached, but I fastened the rest of the buttons myself, and the more he made me exercise my arm the stronger it grew. It is not as strong as it was before, but it is much better when first I woke in Rivendell."

"It is *exactly* like that," replied Aragorn. "Only now you must exercise every part of body and spirit, for all of you was deeply hurt. And it will be more painful, because there is no part of you which remained untouched by the hurts you have taken. But we can make it as pleasant for you as possible - there are many nice things to enjoy in Minas Tirith, and many foods to try, and many things you might wish to see and do. Eowyn has offered to teach you and Sam and Pippin how to ride horses; she thinks you could learn, though you may always prefer ponies. She will not put you in danger. And Faramir longs to show you the great libraries, where thousands of books sit waiting for a reader to enjoy them. You might even, with an escort, visit the markets. There are many wares sold in Minas Tirith now that the city is no longer under siege. There are stalls which sell food. I can make certain you have coin in plenty to spend." He smiled sadly. "I cannot take away the pain, Frodo. But you can learn how to ease it, if only you will permit us to help you. If you prefer to pass the rest of your days in bed, treated as an invalid, you may. I will not refuse you anything. But I think that you would be happier up and about again."

"But I am so afraid!" gulped Frodo, swallowing a sob. "I am frightened."

"Of what?" asked Aragorn, abandoning mug and plate to pull up a stool beside Frodo, putting a gentle arm around the thin shoulders.

"Of hurting more. Of - of the pain. Of not being able to do things I could before."

Aragorn cradled Frodo close as Sam moved to sit on the couch beside his master, patting his legs through the blankets.

"Frodo, do you know how you entered Mordor - the only way in?"

Frodo gulped again, tears flowing down his pale cheeks. "Y-yes. Through th-the pass. Th-the spider."

"Yet you came out alive. But - " Aragorn touched Frodo's cheek tenderly. "The only way out, Frodo, was *through*."

Frodo blinked, looking up at him.

"I th-think I understand," he said softly.

"And we're not leaving you, neither, Mr. Frodo," said Sam firmly. "You don't have to do this by yourself. You don't have to do anything by yourself. We're right here. You know I wouldn't leave you."

"Nor would I," said Aragorn. "Nor would any of our companions. Not even Faramir, who loves you as a brother. If you wish for help, you have only to ask."

"Thank you," murmured Frodo. "I - I shall try." He looked out across the balcony, over the city, and then back at Aragorn. "Maybe a - tomorrow, could we - I mean, I would like a picnic. In the gardens somewhere. I want to see them. Everyone could come who can."

"I think that would be a splendid idea," said Aragorn. "I shall go and arrange it." He glanced toward the grill. "I put out the fire when I finished. Do avoid it if you get up; it will still be quite hot. Do you think the two of you will be all right if I make some arrangements and come back - with more lemonade?"

Two curly mops of hair bobbed in agreement. Frodo sniffled and dried his tears with his napkin.

"Then I shall return shortly," said Aragorn, rising. He bent to kiss the top of Frodo's head. "All shall be better, Frodo. That much I promise."

"Well," said Frodo when they were alone. "I suppose I must apologise. I've been awful, Sam. Do forgive me, please. I don't mean to be so helpless."

"Ain't nothing helpless about you, Mr. Frodo." Sam smiled. "And ain't nothing to forgive, neither. You're fine. Just you keep doing what you need to do to get better. And if you need me, I'm right here to help."

"As you always have been." Frodo leaned forward and embraced Sam tightly. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I shall try my best."

"Don't reckon you can do a bit better than that, sir." Sam embraced Frodo in return. "Do you think you'd like another couple mushrooms, sir? I've got some left I didn't get to."

"One more, perhaps. You eat the other." Frodo laughed. "I'll eat one if you'll eat one."

"Agreed, sir."

Some time passed before Aragorn returned. When he did, however, he laughed so hard that he nearly dropped the pitcher of lemonade in his hands. Setting it aside, he put a hand over his mouth, but his eyes were warm.

Frodo and Sam were still waiting on the balcony, but they had fallen asleep, side by side, on Frodo's couch. Frodo was still tucked in beneath warm blankets, but Sam lay beside him, one arm protectively over his master, the habit not yet broken.

Gently Aragorn reached down, took an extra blanket from the foot of the couch, and tucked it around Sam. Quietly he began to clean up the remains of the cook-out.

The world - and the lemonade - could wait.

-the end-

FIC: "Pop-Corn and Perspectives" (1/1, G) by Febobe

2012-08-24T23:22:09Z

I am open to title suggestions; I'm not thrilled with what I came up with, but it'll do. This is a little angsty, but I think it's still a G.

You know how sometimes you start a fic light and fluffy and then it goes all sad and angsty on you? Yeah, this was one of those. Don't worry, dear readers like Shirebound and others who aren't big on dark fics - it's not THAT dark. No deaths, and a definitely sweet and warm and loving ending. This one is just chock full o'Frodo love. It's set in post-Quest Minas Tirith.

Hope y'all enjoy it. I'll go finish wiping my tears now!

-Febobe

25_foods - 6.18 Pop Corn

"I am glad to see you feeling well enough for company, Frodo," Aragorn said. "But I admit that I am curious as to why you wished all of us here this evening, and a fire in the hearth. Are you feeling chilled?"

Frodo shook his head, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Not at all," he said evenly. "I am quite well. But I wanted to show you something, and I wanted everyone here for it."

Merry and Pippin exchanged a look and a grin. Aragorn swallowed, not sure what that meant, but sure it could not mean anything but mischief. Even Sam was smiling, and Gandalf. But Legolas, Gimli, Faramir, and he clearly had no idea whatsoever what was planned. The hobbits had seated them around the room, all within fairly close range of the hearth, where a merry fire had been laid at Frodo's request.

"Merry, would you help me with the pans?" asked Frodo, rising from his chair. Merry nodded, and brought two covered pans with long handles, apparently stashed on a table in a corner. Frodo took one; Merry held the other, and both hobbits approached the hearth.

"Watch and listen!" said Frodo. "And do not stir, no matter what you may hear!"

Legolas tensed. Gimli watched wide-eyed. Faramir and Aragorn looked at each other, but neither seemed less than completely confused. So they watched.

A few minutes passed.

Nothing happened.

POP!

Aragorn and Faramir jumped. Gimli gave a cry, and Legolas went wide-eyed. Pippin snickered, and Sam looked as if he were trying very hard not to laugh.

POP! POP! POP!

Merry and Frodo broke into peals of laughter as the popping sounds exploded throughout the room...and the tops of their pans pushed open, raised by fluffy white kernels. Sam began to laugh, and Pippin fell over on his side, red with giggling. Gandalf chuckled, his eyes crinkling in a grin.

"What is it?" asked Aragorn.

"It is a Shire treat!" said Frodo. "Pop-corn! I must say, I thought we would never find any here in Gondor. Fetch the salt, Sam, please. Sometimes Bilbo and I would add butter, too - I have a little pan of it we can melt if you wish. I like it that way."

"Pop-corn?" asked Faramir. "I have heard of it. But I have never seen any. I heard Father mention once that he was permitting merchants to sell such a thing. I thought it very strange. And you have it in the Shire?"

"Of course!" said Merry. "Frodo and I grew up eating it often. It was a common treat at Brandy Hall, and in Hobbiton too - when Bilbo found out Frodo liked it, he often bought from the Brandybucks, just to get the best kind."

"But we disagree on which variety is best," Pippin pointed out. "Some of us think that Tuckborough pop-corn is the best. *I* certainly do."

"You *would*," said Merry with a snort. "Frodo and I know better."

"Mr. Bilbo brought us a little bag one year," said Sam. "He brought it down to the house and showed Mam and us little'uns how to fix it. Like to scared us half to death, it did. Mr. Frodo laughed and laughed. We hadn't seen him laugh like that since he came to Hobbiton."

"It was so funny," said Frodo. "You nearly jumped through the roof! Daisy started shrieking, and your mother - I thought Mrs. Gamgee was going to drop the pan. It was the funniest thing I had seen in so long."

Merry began easing the pop-corn out of the hot pans into bowls as Frodo set the little pan of butter to melt, retrieving it quickly. Sam walked around, offering dashes of salt as Pippin handed out bowls (and occasionally stealing a kernel or two).

"Watch out - it's hot," said Frodo.

"It's delicious," said Legolas, smiling.

"A rare treat!" Gimli decided.

"My dear friends," said Aragorn, looking at Frodo, "this is indeed special. Hobbits do bring a touch of home with them wherever they may wander. Of all folk in Middle-earth, I do believe you are the most welcoming, the most open-hearted, and the most generous of spirit."

The hobbits all blushed.

"I just thought you might like a treat from the Shire," said Frodo. "You all have done so much for us. The elves, everywhere we went, and Faramir - the aid of Gondor - " His eyes suddenly went moist. "I have not forgotten the food we were given," he said hoarsely, "and the hospitality shown to us. I have not forgotten the meat and cheese and bread and wine we enjoyed together, in Ithilien. I have not forgotten the kindness of the White City."

Faramir stood up and came to Frodo, embracing him.

"Frodo," he said, "it was a greater honor than any I have ever had. Whatever small part I was able to play in the journey you and Sam faced, it was my proudest deed. I only wish that I could have done more for the two of you, and not sent you alone into those dark places unaided. I too would have given my life to protect you, as would everyone in this room."

"You nearly did," said Frodo, looking up into Faramir's face. "I know what happened when you came to your father. Pippin told me everything. And Gandalf too."

Faramir knelt, bringing his face closer to Frodo's level.

"It would have been worth it," he said. "Worth *everything*, to know that the world would be set right again by the hand of a hobbit."

Frodo swallowed tightly. "The hand of a hobbit nearly lost everything," he said, lifting his injured hand, with its stump of a finger. "This hand nearly cost all the good that we know in the world. Forgive me."

For a moment the room was silent, but there was not a dry eye. Frodo wept.

But a moment was all it took.

Pop-corn bowls abandoned, the friends gathered around Frodo, embracing him as best they could from every side, hands reaching out to stroke his arms, grasp his hands, rest against his shoulders.

"You did *not* fail," said Aragorn. "You must not berate yourself, little one, for you did all that you promised, and more than you could. All the good that has come to us has come because of *you*, and your faithfulness, and Sam, who did what we could not for you."

Kneeling, he held Frodo's hand to his lips, and kissed the maimed stump of a finger.

"This hand is dearer to me than any other," he said, "even that of my lady, for I know how truly my gain has been from your loss. My happiness for yours. I would trade our lots in a breath, if I could, for you deserve far more joy than you have had, and far more than any of us can give you."

He met Frodo's eyes, tilting the hobbit's chin up as tears streamed down the small face.

"But know this: that so long as you live, the pleasure of Gondor and Arnor shall be to do all that can be done for your happiness and health. And you shall pass the rest of your days in peace and security, as much as we can offer."

-the end-

FIC: "Ranch Dressing" by Febobe (1/1, G)

2012-08-24T22:22:45Z

This is based on a 25_foods prompt - Salad Dressing! Enjoy. More of these to come in future. :) This is also from the Life Out of the Ruins universe, in which Frodo and his companions live in Nashville, Tennessee in the 21st century...and of course learn to experience many of the same things we enjoy. Like bottled salad dressings. ;)

Hugs,
Febobe :)

"What is it?" Frodo asked, sniffing curiously as he held the bottle of thick white and speckled liquid to his nose.

"It is called 'ranch dressing,'" Aragorn explained. "You pour a little over your salad, to offer more flavor."

Sam blinked. "I don't reckon I ever did see anything that looks like that poured on any salad back home," he said. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"It *smells* interesting," said Frodo, tilting the bottle to pour a little onto one side of his salad, starting and pulling the bottle back when it began to flood out. "Well, I suppose that's plenty for now!" he said, holding the bottle out to Sam and tossing the salad together with the dressing using his fork. "I suppose I'll see what it tastes like."

"I'll try some too," said Merry.

"And so will I!" said Pippin. Sam looked dubious, and quickly passed the bottle to Merry, who poured a liberal helping onto his greens and passed it on to Pippin.

Frodo took a bite of ranch-dressed lettuce.

He blinked.

At once he put his fork in for another mouthful.

"Oh, that is *good*!" he exclaimed a bite later. "And you say there are bottles of this at the market?"

"Yes," Aragorn said, smiling. "Rows and rows of bottles of different kinds of dressings for salad. But Allison said that this is one of the most popular, and she thought you might like it best. When you are stronger, we can go shopping and allow you to select other kinds to try, though I should warn you that some of the shelves are more my height, or Boromir's, than yours."

"I'm sure we can fix that to find something this tasty!" cried Pippin. "I'll stand on Merry's shoulders if I must! Can't I, Merry?"

"We'll find you a stepladder instead," said Merry between bites. "Come on, Sam, try it. It's creamy."

"I don't know," said Sam, looking anxious. "But if Mr. Frodo thinks it's not too bad, maybe..." He poured just a little onto the edge of his salad, stirred it a little with his fork, and tasted.

At once his eyes went wide.

"Oh, I don't think I've EVER tasted a salad like *that* before, sir!" he said, and reached for the bottle again. "That's quite nice! Like the way they do salads in Rivendell, maybe, but creamier. With just a little bite to it."

"Exactly," said Frodo. "Aragorn?"

"Yes?"

"I hope you have another bottle of this here. I don't think I shall want to eat another salad without it ever again."

-the end!-

FIC: "Coffee" by Febobe (1/1, G)

2012-08-24T03:30:40Z

Another little ficlet from my work tonight, from work started during B2MEM. :) Enjoy! This one's more sweet than funny, I think. :) Another one for fans of Frodo and Aragorn, with a little Gandalf thrown in. :)

G51 B2MEM - Diners' Club - coffee

"Please," said Frodo, so suddenly that Aragorn, who had been staring out of the window, started, nearly dropping his cup. At once the king bent over the little hobbit's bed.

"Yes, Frodo, I am here. What is it? Are you thirsty? Are you in pain?"

Frodo shook his head drowsily, blinking. His eyes went to Aragorn's cup. "Please - may I?"

Aragorn looked at the cup and then at his tiny charge, still so fragile, less than a day awakened from his healing sleep. "I shall get you water."

"No." Frodo's voice took on an insistent tone. "No - that. Please."

Aragorn looked confused.

"Bilbo used to let me drink it with him. In the kitchen ... at Bag End. When he left ... Sam used to bring ... it ... to me ... in the mornings ... most days. With sugar."

Aragorn started to laugh. Coffee! Frodo wanted coffee! "This has no sugar, my friend; I take mine without. Only give me a few minutes and you shall have coffee with sugar."

Frodo smiled, and Aragorn turned to step out and call for the drink. Gandalf met him at the doorway. His eyes twinkled merrily.

"Are you certain, Aragorn?"

Aragorn shook his head, still grinning. "It is a stimulant. Perhaps not what Elrond would recommend. But I cannot deny him. The first thing he has asked for since - "

Gandalf nodded, smiling. "He takes it with two lumps, you should know."

"Thank you." Aragorn stepped out as Gandalf slipped inside. Looking down at the cup in his hands, he had a sudden thought.

I shall never think of coffee the same way again. Never.

-the end-

FIC: "Briefs or Boxers?" by Febobe (1/1, G)

2012-08-23T23:34:00Z

I suppose this could be PG if you're squinting at it, but as usual, this is intended in my standard no-sex, no-slash, no-profanity way. I don't have all my usual disclaimers and such attached ATM, but no, I don't own these guys, I just borrow them from JRRT. This is from B2MEM this year, and the info on that is below the cut. :)

Enjoy! Oh, BIG WARNING...humor. You may not wish to be drinking anything when you read this. I mean, maybe it's not that funny to y'all, but I certainly wouldn't want to drink anything while reading this. ;)

I21 - B2MEM - Draw a Tolkien Character In Underwear

"I don't know about this," said Frodo, looking critically at his reflection in the full-length mirror. "I don't think I like briefs very well."

"You could always try boxers," said Aragorn. "Shall I hand you some?"

"If you can do it without turning round," said Frodo, frowning. "I can do without anyone seeing me like this. Pity you can't take them back. I don't suppose Pippin could try them?"

"Pippin is larger than you these days," said Aragorn. "I do not think they would fit anyone else in the house. Do not worry, though. They are not expensive, and I did not get many, not being sure which you would prefer."

"Boxers it is, then," said Frodo. "Here, I'll take them."

Aragorn handed a pair of green and navy plaid boxers in a miniature size around to Frodo, never turning his head.

"Oh!" said Frodo. "I *like* these." Stepping at once out of the briefs, he abandoned them on the floor and sat down on the bed before leaning over to pick them up, setting them aside and putting first one leg, then the other into the boxer shorts. At last he stood up and admired himself in the mirror. "Now *that*," he said proudly, "is something more like. Let's get more of *this* kind, please."

"How do they fit?" asked Aragorn.

"Quite nicely, thank you. May I wear them now?"

"That is why I removed the tags already. Can I turn around yet?"

"Yes. I don't look so ridiculous in these. Those briefs were *awful*." Frodo made a face. "I had half a mind to fling them at your head, they were so awful."

"Thank you for restraining yourself." Aragorn turned around, not quite managing to suppress a grin. "I shall take these away, then. Unless you have changed your mind."

Frodo went furiously red. "NO. And I'll thank you to forget all about those horrid things."

"Very well, then." Aragorn picked up the briefs with a grin. "Too bad they aren't quite my size. I rather prefer this sort."

-the end-

FIC: Untitled (PG, 3/?) for Mewsie, by Febobe

2012-07-03T19:53:25Z

Author's Notes: I think this chapter is long enough to compensate for that incredibly short Ch. 1 back yesterday! :) I have no clue when I'll get another chapter posted; it'll have to be Sunday or next week, because I'm driving back tomorrow, and going offline Thurs-Sat, so I don't know when I'll have a chance to write much on it until Sunday (though maybe if I take my Neo, perhaps!).

Some spoilery author's notes beneath the cut, too. Just FYI. :)

Spoilery Author's Notes: I have chosen to paraphrase Bilbo's words about life in Rivendell as best I can, partly b/c I didn't want to directly quote JRRT and partly b/c I didn't have the darned book here in front of me. ;) Also, I'm bucking the tradition of Elrond's medicines tasting horrible, something which I myself have frequently employed and will no doubt employ again. (To be fair, I'll probably use the approach I've chosen here again too. I love it.) And you'll notice I have orange-juice in Rivendell in this story. I'm guessing they managed to make a greenhouse/hothouse that oranges and lemons and stuff will grow in. I'm quite fully aware that this might not have been possible, but I like to think it would be, so humour me, please. ;) Play along. ;)

CHAPTER THREE

Frodo gaped for astonishment. But yes, it *must* be Bilbo, for the little figure hurried to his side as best as he could, and put warm, familiar arms around him.

"Oh, my lad," he murmured, "oh, my poor, dear boy."

"Bilbo," Frodo whispered. "Bilbo, are you really here?"

"Of course, my lad," Bilbo said. "I have been here the whole time. Sam and I spent each day sitting by your bed. I don't go in for feasts very much these days, or I should have been there for yours. But I hear you weren't able to enjoy it very much!"

"Oh, Bilbo." Frodo folded into his arms, so grateful to be with his uncle again. Bilbo had been the nearest thing he had had to a father for so long. Somehow he did not feel he could have been much happier had Drogo shown up at the door.

Just then, the door opened again, and Elrond stepped inside, a large tray in his arms.

"Perhaps this will be more suitable," he said gently, setting it on Frodo's bed. "Little master," he added to Bilbo, "I trust that you will help me in this. Your nephew has hardly had a bite to eat since getting up this afternoon, and I do not think it agrees with him. If I take Aragorn so that we may make up some medicines, do you think that four hobbits could get the fifth to eat?"

"You may count on it," said Bilbo firmly. "I know how to get Frodo to eat, don't I, lad? Let us see now!" He lifted the cover of the tray, revealing several delicately arranged dishes: a light turkey and mushroom soup ... a dish of coddled eggs, surrounded by carefully buttered toast points ... a cup of plain turkey broth ... minced white turkey breast and roast beef, with mashed potatoes and a tiny pitcher of gravy beside it ... a dish of apple jelly ... and a little dish of applesauce. To drink, there was plenty of cool water, but also a little pot, and when Bilbo poured some of the contents into the hot tea-cup, it proved to be ... yes ... cambric tea! Much to Frodo's delight, Bilbo proceeded to sweeten it with exactly the amount of sugar Frodo preferred, stirring it up neatly.

"I'm quite sure Sam was going to help you," Bilbo said, "but it has been so long since I was with my Frodo-lad, surely neither of you would begrudge an old hobbit the chance to look after his nephew again."

Frodo pinked a little, but he was pleased. He had missed Bilbo so terribly. Sam did not look at all offended, but bowed politely.

"Whatever you want, Mr. Bilbo, sir. I'll just be right here close, in case you get tired. You just tell me, sir."

"It looks wonderful, Frodo," said Merry encouragingly. "If there's anything you'd rather have, though, just you tell us, and we'll find someone to help us get it for you."

"We know where the kitchens are," added Pippin.

"I should think by now you would!" said Frodo, grinning.

Bilbo spooned up a mouthful of the nourishing soup as Sam made sure Frodo was propped up well enough on his pillows.

"This should warm you a bit, my poor lad," he said. "Down the dragon's throat it goes!"

Frodo laughed, but obediently swallowed the mouthful of soup. It tasted wonderful, though he still felt so cold. He hoped Aragorn was right, and the feeling would abate, though he was not at all sure that he looked forward to the terrible overheated feeling which usually came with fever. He let Bilbo feed him a few spoonfuls of the turkey and mushroom soup, alternating that with tiny bites of turkey or roast beef, dipped in mashed potato and then in gravy, and after that some egg and a toast point, but one more bite, he shook his head.

"I want to have room for the apple jelly," he said, "and the potato's awfully nice. I'd rather have those than egg just now, please."

"Of course, my lad." Bilbo started to fork up a little more turkey and potato and dip it into the gravy, but whether from age or fatigue or nerves, his hand shook a little. Sam seemed to notice at once.

"Here now, sir," he said gently, stepping to Bilbo's side, "I'll just finish up, if that's all right. You just settle right there on Mr. Frodo's bed and rest and talk to him. I'll get him finished eating."

He gave Frodo a knowing smile, and Frodo could not help but smile back. Dear Sam.

"Thank you, Sam," said Bilbo, and scooted himself over so that he sat on the other side of Frodo, freeing Sam up to reach everything on the tray. "I am sorry. These days my hands aren't always as steady as they once were."

"It's all right, Bilbo. I don't mind." Frodo opened up for Sam and tried another mouthful of the hot food. Somehow it tasted better to eat it here, with it all arranged in such small tastes, tucked up safely in bed, not being looked at by all those ... those strangers, somehow. As much as he enjoyed elves, Frodo was quite aware that several of them had been watching him with great interest, and the feeling was not altogether comfortable for him. He did not care for being the curiousity of Rivendell.

"There now, sir. Not too much to go, and you'll be finished." Sam offered a sip of cambric tea before continuing, beginning to alternate spoonfuls of apple jelly with bites of turkey or beef dipped in potatoes and gravy. Frodo did his best to eat, but he was very much interested in Bilbo.

"What have you been doing all this time, then?" he asked. "Have you been here, in Elrond's house? And all this time I wondered where you had gone off to!"

"Well, yes," said Bilbo. "There didn't seem to be much point in being anywhere else, if you take my meaning. The food is quite good, and all the elvish company whenever you want it - well, there are worse places one could retire to, if you take my meaning." He patted Frodo's hand. "And now you're here. Rather the worse for wear, if I do say so myself! But Elrond will put you to rights soon enough. There isn't a finer healer in all of Middle-earth. And Estel, or the Dunadan, as some call him, is of more help than you might have guessed. His talents should not be estimated based solely on his skill against such a wound. He is a more gifted healer than you might have imagined."

"He is very good," said Frodo. "He did all that he could to help me on our way here. I suppose what it really wanted was an operation, and that could not have been done in the wilds by anyone, I'm sure. He could not help that."

"He tried hard," said Pippin. "I don't know when he even slept. Whenever one of us was on watch, he always seemed to be awake still, watching over Frodo, and then he took most watches himself, and somehow watched out *and* watched Frodo. Of course, poor Sam hardly slept either."

Sam blushed. "I don't reckon I could've slept much, with Mr. Frodo needing me like that," he said. "It wouldn't be right. Poor Mr. Frodo so ill and all. Least I could do was sit by him in case he needed extra cover, or something to drink, or whatever."

"Sam was wonderful," said Frodo. "You were *all* wonderful. I am very glad that you came along. All of you." He looked at the mouthful of apple jelly Sam was offering and sighed, suddenly spent. "Sam, forgive me. I don't think I can manage another bite."

"Are you sure, sir? You haven't had all that much, considering."

"I'm quite sure. Thank you." Frodo turned away. "I had better save some room for whatever medicines they bring back. Maybe we could save the last of the jelly to take the taste away. I don't suppose elvish medicine is likely to taste much better than hobbit medicine."

"I'm afraid it doesn't," said Bilbo, and chuckled. "Elrond does the best he can. If you ask, I am sure he can flavor it somehow. There are all sorts of good fruits here, in the greenhouse; I know they make elixirs and extracts to flavor all manner of delicious treats. You haven't tasted them yet; we were hoping you might tomorrow. Some you still could. I can't imagine they would keep orange-juice from you; it's quite good for fevers."

"Orange-juice?" asked Frodo, curious. "What is that? Is it orange, I suppose?"

"Oh, quite! It's lovely. Sweet, with a bit of tang to it, a sharpness, you might say. Just sour enough to please, and sweet enough to enjoy. I always drink pitchers full when I have a cold. I can't imagine it wouldn't be good for a fever too."

"Indeed." Elrond and Aragorn rejoined them, Aragorn smiling as he spoke. "I remember having buckets pressed upon me when I took an occasional cold as a boy. Ada is quite fond of it as a remedy."

"Ada." Frodo looked at Aragorn curiously. "But that means father, doesn't it? Rather like our word papa?"

"It does indeed." Elrond smiled. "Aragorn was brought up here. His father was killed when he was quite small, and so Gilraen, his mother, brought him to me, so he would be safe. Aragorn is my youngest son, and no less dear to my heart for not being a son of my body." He brought a small tray to the bedside. "We have prepared medicines for you, Frodo, and flavored them as best we can. You have Aragorn to thank for that. He recalls well the taste of my medicines - " Elrond cast a wry glance in Aragorn's direction, but Aragorn only grinned. "And he suggested that you might find them more palatable if we doctored them a bit. He even kindly allowed me to use him to test the results."

"I did try them both," said Aragorn, coming to stand near Merry and Pippin on the other side of the great bed, "and they are as tasty as they can be made. I fear that they still do not taste *good* - but they are much improved."

"I suppose there is nothing for it, then," said Frodo. "One at a time, and a bite of apple jelly and two sips of water between them, else I make no assurance that it won't come right back up!" He suddenly eyed Aragorn. "And I want Aragorn to give them to me."

Elrond arched one perfect eyebrow. "Is there a particular reason, Master Baggins?"

"If I have to throw up on anyone, I'd rather it not be you, in those robes." Frodo looked at Aragorn sternly. "At least *you* aren't wearing silk and velvet."

Aragorn laughed. "You are correct, Frodo. I am not. Your wish is granted. Only try to keep it down, else we shall have to resort to ... less pleasant ... methods of giving your medicines."

Frodo flushed. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, we would." Elrond smiled, the expression dangerously close to a smirk for Frodo's taste. "I have made more than one bolus in my time, and given them too, and I will not hesitate to do so again, if I must."

Frodo promptly opened his mouth. Laughing, Aragorn measured a dose from one bottle on the little tray into a miniature glass which appeared to be designed especially for giving medicines, for it had markings on the sides. He held the resulting opaque liquid to Frodo's lips.

"Drink, little one."

Frodo sipped, and found to his surprise that it tasted not only of medicine, but something else, something sweeter and more pleasant. He looked up in surprise.

"Grape juice!"

Aragorn grinned. "Yes, little one, we used an extract of grape juice to flavor it, and some sugar as well. Did it help?"

"Yes." Frodo motioned to Sam. "Please, I still want some water."

Sam offered the tumbler and Frodo drank, rinsing the taste of medicine from his mouth with a few sips.

"I don't dread the next one half so much now," he said, looking curiously at the mixture Aragorn was pouring into another little glass.

"I think you will like it at least as well," said Aragorn. "It was one of my favorite flavorings when I was young, though Ada never added enough sugar. I have forced him to remedy that for you."

"Thank you." Frodo sipped at the reddish liquid. "Cherries!" he said at last. "It tastes of cherries."

"Yes. Ada developed that one especially for me many years ago. I told him that he had better use it for you." Aragorn handed the tray back to Elrond, who began setting additional small glasses and the bottles of medicine on the bedside table. "I hope that made it at least a little easier."

"Much," said Frodo, motioning for the tumbler again.

"That's the best I've ever seen Frodo take medicine," said Bilbo. "I don't recall Master Elrond ever using the flavorings on mine."

"Only for people who have been stabbed," said Elrond, without cracking a smile, though Frodo noticed a merry twinkle in his eye. "And now, I think we had better let Frodo have some rest. Merry, Pippin, you two should come with me. I have a special assignment for the two of you, and Master Bilbo may help you in your planning. I will tell you more when we have left Frodo and Aragorn and Sam to talk." He motioned to the three hobbits named. "Come with me, all of you. I will answer any questions you may have, but too much excitement is not good for our friend."

"I shall be back," said Bilbo, lifting Frodo's hand and kissing it. "Rest for Aragorn, Frodo-lad, and do all that he says. We want you well, so you can explore the house, don't we?" And with that, he joined Merry and Pippin in following Elrond out.

"We'll come back when we can, cousin!" called Pippin. "Do try to eat for them!"

And with that, they were gone, leaving Frodo alone with Sam and Aragorn.

-to be continued-

FIC: Untitled as yet (PG) (2/?) by Febobe for MEWSIE!

2012-07-02T18:33:04Z

Thank you all for the delightful and encouraging responses thus far! Mewsie, I'm so glad you like it, and everyone else too! (Moit, I totally understand. I'll skip your sex toy fics and you can skip my cuddly foodie fics! Works for me! :D And thank you about the icon. Made by one of my sweet friends here!)

Here is the second installment of the fic. I still don't have a good title; maybe by the end of the fic I'll come up with something appropriate. :) Warning: hobbits ahead!

CHAPTER TWO

"Do not fear, Frodo. You are safe."

Strider's voice. Frodo stirred weakly, and found himself lying in Strider's - Aragorn's - arms, with Elrond bent over him, one hand upon his brow. Sam and Merry and Pippin stood only a little further back, looking worried.

"Sir, are you all right?" asked Sam. "You gave us a scare, and no mistake."

"I ... I'm ... I don't know." Frodo felt dizzy and weak; he was too afraid to try sitting up. Aragorn cradled him close, supporting his head with one arm.

"Hush," he said, "all of you. Frodo has had a shock; we must get him back to bed. Frodo, how much did you manage to eat? I am not sure that you have taken sufficient food to endure so much excitement. Being up for the first time in days taxes the body."

"I ... a little, I think. A bite or two of goose and applesauce. A spoonful of mashed potatoes."

Aragorn spoke quickly in low tones to Elrond, but as he spoke in Elvish, even Frodo could not understand; the conversation happened too rapidly for him to follow. Within a moment, Elrond slipped away, and Aragorn lifted him, rising to a standing position.

"I shall return you to your bed," he explained. "Of your friends, Sam may come; Merry, Pippin, I would ask you to fetch ... you know whom. Bring him, please. I think Frodo would benefit from his presence."

Frodo half-wondered who they meant, but the movement made him feel dizzier, and he shut his eyes. He felt Aragorn's movements as they passed through the halls, and soon enough he recognized the comfortable, still somewhat medicinal, smell of his own room. It was a great relief when Aragorn laid him down on his bed and began to undress him, carefully removing the fine clothes of green cloth which Frodo had put on that afternoon.

"Begging your pardon, sir, but if there's something you ought to be doing, I can tend to that," said Sam, and Aragorn stepped back, letting him take over. Frodo felt some relief. He was accustomed to Aragorn by now, but he was far more accustomed to Sam.

"Sam, if you would leave him undressed for now," said Aragorn, washing his hands in a basin of water, "it would be helpful. I need to examine him, particularly his shoulder. There may be more we must do."

"Not another piece of blade," Frodo said, groaning.

"No," answered Aragorn. "I think not. But there may yet be aught amiss." He bent over the shoulder where Elrond had stitched it closed after his work, running careful fingers over it. Frodo winced.

"That hurts!"

"I am sorry. But it supports what Elrond and I suspected. The wound has some infection in it. We worked as cleanly as we could, and Elrond is always fastidious with his instruments, but the wound had in it a fragment of blade which was not particularly clean, nor was the skin it pierced very clean when the wound occurred, for travelling is not particularly good for cleanliness even among hobbits."

Frodo sighed. "No, it isn't. What does this mean?"

"Elrond will advise further, but I suspect that you shall have to remain in bed for many days, at least until the fever abates; that is why you are cold, though that is likely to change when the fever has finished rising. We shall keep the wound bathed; it would be better not to reopen it if we can avoid doing so. And there are medicines we must give you, to help you fight the infection and make you more comfortable. Most importantly, you must take suitable nourishment. Elrond is seeing to some food which you will be better able to enjoy than your supper."

Frodo blushed. "It was a lovely meal."

"But you did not eat very much. I watched you, and you took hardly three spoonfuls, perhaps three and a half. Not enough to help your body recover." Aragorn's voice gentled. "Food will not heal you if you cannot eat it, little one."

"I suppose not." Frodo glanced at Sam. "Could Sam help me? I am so very tired. I would rather feed myself, but I really don't feel at all like moving."

"You know I'm happy to help, Mr. Frodo." Sam shot Aragorn a look that would have frozen beer and moved to help Frodo into a fresh night-shirt. "Course it's all right. I can't imagine Strider'd say no. I didn't think you ought to have been up yet anyhow."

"You may have been right, Sam," said Aragorn. "Elrond and I had concerns. But we hoped a celebration might hearten Frodo. Please forgive us."

Just then, there came a knock, and the door opened. In came Pippin, and Merry, and ... could it be?

Bilbo!

-to be continued-

FIC: Untitled as yet (PG) by Febobe for MEWSIE!

2012-07-02T15:33:52Z

This is a fic for Mewsie, which I will also post to the Mewsie-specific comm later today...but I'd like to put it here, too! I'll also toss a link over to the fffc, as they requested Mewsfics not too long ago. :) Enjoy, Mewsie and everyone...Shirebound, I think this is more your sort of fic than some of mine are, so you might enjoy reading too! Hugs to all the sweet and gentle souls out there. :)

The PG is just in case there's any sad or medical parts later; I don't expect this to be a very graphic fic in anything but food. It might even merit a G instead. I'm not sure...when I have all the chapters up, y'all can help me decide that. :)

Yes, I am aware that this could be the world's shortest chapter. I may try to flesh that out later and maybe merge a short chapter one and short chapter two together to form ONE chapter before ff.net or other comms. Have patience with my WIP nature, please. :)

Aragorn and hobbits to appear in the upcoming chapters...Bilbo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin! :)

Love,
Febobe :)

CHAPTER ONE

It seemed that all of Rivendell had come out to celebrate, Frodo mused as he looked on from his vantage point in the chair the elves had piled with cushions to raise him to the table. He felt quite awkward and out of place at the head table with Elrond himself, and would almost rather have been permitted to eat with the other hobbits where they sat at one of the lower tables not so far away. But the elves had said that he must sit here, and so here he was, though it all felt very overwhelming. Frodo was sorry that he did not feel especially hungry, for there was plenty of wonderful food, roast goose and applesauce, roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, baked mushrooms, even turkey, white and dark meat sliced up on platters for serving. There were sweet potatoes, too, cooked with some kind of fruit and lots of brown sugar, which smelled simply wonderful.

But Frodo could not bring himself to do much more than push small helpings around on his plate.

He could not help it. He simply did not feel very hungry, and in truth the room seemed very cold. He would rather have been in his bed, in his room, with a cup of broth and some cambric tea instead, and plenty of blankets to wrap up in. But it would be very rude to leave the feast held in his honour, so he sat as quietly as he could and sipped at a mug of hot apple cider, trying not to look as miserable as he felt. Lord Elrond looked as if he were trying to keep some eye on Frodo and how he was eating, but people kept talking to him, wanting his attention, and so he seemed to be having difficulty paying much attention to the Ringbearer.

But at last, when the talking and laughing had reached a fever pitch, Frodo felt he could bear no more. He would have to return to his room, and send back apologies to Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen. Cautiously he climbed down from his perch atop the cushions, waiting to do so till Elrond was engaged in a serious-looking conversation with some other elf, and made his way toward the door, ignoring the questions of the elves attempting to wait on him and offer him more to eat or drink. He had to reach his room. He *had* to. And quickly.

Suddenly, though, not half a dozen feet from the door, Frodo felt his legs buckle beneath him. He sank, feeling dizzy and faint, and knew no more at that time.

-to be continued-

100 Things Challenge and First Entry!

2012-04-19T19:00:55Z

I need to get my sign-up done once I post this; maybe I can put the image into the next post. I do want to say how excited I am that so many people are taking this on. Everyone's challenge choices sound so very exciting and I can't wait to enjoy them all! :)

Today's entry, my very first, is from the 100 Foods (I Love To Talk About) edition. Bon appetit!

Sweet pickles were the first pickle I ever liked, and they're one of my all-time favorite foods. (As a matter of fact, I'm about to dig into one of the two new jars of sweet petites I bought this afternoon.) Incidentally, they're also the name of a really cute children's book series from my own childhood, though I loved the food before I ever encountered the books.

Today, I'll sometimes eat dill or bread and butter pickles, but sweets are still something I love more than any other variety. I have been known to eat them by themselves, though I also really like them with salty potato chips (plain). Which is, I realize, a sodium disaster, but that's what I love. I just try not to eat that combination nearly as often as I used to. ;)

My favorite sweet pickles are the little pickle packs you can get here at Sureway, little individual cups sold four to a pack, just delicious sweet pickles packed in juice, which I drain off before enjoying. They're wonderful and help me not eat too many at one time, which is sometimes a temptation. A *serious* temptation.

Sweet pickles do not feature prominently in most of my writing. I'm sure hobbits would have them, just...it's not high on the list, as some of the other foods I'll be discussing are. Notably, sweet pickles are exactly what I've always had in mind when there is the call, "And bring out the cold chicken and pickles!" in The Hobbit. :) (I mean, they COULDN'T have meant DILL, surely?!?) There is an episode of LOOTR on my drawing-board, though, which calls for pickles, so that may well turn out to be a sweet pickle fest for Frodo and friends.

And yes, I like relish, though mostly just on hot dogs. ;)

What kind(s) of pickles do YOU like best, dear friends? :)

Cheers,
Febobe :)

FICLET: "A Forest Feast" (G/K) by Febobe (B2MEM)

2012-03-31T17:44:08Z

B2MeM Challenge: I22, Food and Drink of Middle-Earth (hunting and gathering)
Format: Ficlet
Title: A Forest Feast
Genre: Gen
Rating: G/K
Warnings: None
Characters: Frodo, Sam, Legolas, Boromir, Merry, Aragorn, Gimli, Pippin, Gandalf
Pairings: N/A
Summary: Early in the Quest, the Fellowship enjoy an unexpected treat - a foraged meal from the delights of the forest.

"A feast," said Frodo as the Fellowship enjoyed Sam's stew. "However did you manage to bring down such a fine deer, Legolas?"

Legolas smiled. "Stealth is everything with deer," he said. "And elves are gifted in such manner."

Boromir grinned. "Come to Minas Tirith and we shall show you stealth. But what of the little ones? They too are to thank for this fine meal."

Sam blushed to the ears.

"All hobbits know how to find food," said Merry. "We learn it quite young, even those who never learn their letters."

"You managed to gather mushrooms and herbs skillfully," said Aragorn. "That is something even many learned folk cannot manage. Especially so far from home."

"I hope they were all safe to eat," Gimli said gruffly.

"They were," Aragorn replied. "I know these parts. I *did* check."

"Told you so," Pippin chimed in. "We know edible mushrooms anywhere! And there's no one better with herbs than Sam."

"And no finer cook," said Gandalf.

Sam went scarlet.

"No," said Frodo with a smile, "none better."

-the end-

FICLET: "Pints" (G/K) by Febobe (B2MEM)

2012-03-31T17:02:15Z

B2MeM Challenge: I18, Food and Drink in Middle-Earth ("It comes in pints?")
Format: Ficlet
Title: Pints
Genre: Angst
Rating: G/K
Warnings: Mild angst
Characters: Frodo, Pippin
Pairings: N/A
Summary: At the Prancing Pony in Bree, Frodo observes his young cousin and contemplates their situation.

"It comes in pints? I'm getting one!"

Dear Pip. So new everything seems to you, so fresh and strange and wonderful. This is hardly more than an adventure to you, a delightful game in which every new experience should be savored, not feared, a merry caper which will inevitably turn out beautifully in the end.

How can I bear to tell you that such a favourable outcome is unlikely, that like as not we will none of us emerge unscathed, if indeed we come out alive at all? I can hardly bear to think of our quest myself. I can only hope that Gandalf will meet us after all, and that all will be well once he is with us.

But I fear for us, Pippin. I fear for us all...and somehow, I fear most of all for you, who know so little of trouble.

I don't want to see you grow up too soon.

-the end-

FICLET: "No Longer the Same" (PG/K+) by Febobe (B2MEM)

2012-03-31T16:59:02Z

B2MeM Challenge: I18, Write What You Know (a character with whom you have something in common)
Format: Ficlet
Title: No Longer the Same
Genre: Angst, mild hurt/comfort
Rating: PG/K+
Warnings: Angst, some food detail. NOT a deathfic, despite the angst, okee?
Characters: Frodo, Aragorn
Pairings: N/A
Summary: Frodo's suffering failed to end with the Quest.
Author's Note: Frodo is the character to whom I relate most closely; I also relate to some degree to Sam and Eowyn, and I may do ficlets for them at some point...but my nickname in childhood cancer circles has been Frodo for about a decade and a half, because Frodo's experience is mine. There is a myth that the endpoint of treatment is the end of the suffering, but in some ways it is only beginning. I have struggled for decades with survivor guilt, post-traumatic stress symptoms, and severe depression, including suicidal thoughts. Frodo tells my story. It is only right that I, in turn, should tell his, which is why I spend so much time writing Frodo h/c fic.

Aragorn knocked lightly upon Frodo's door. There was a moment's hesitation, but then Frodo's voice called out, "Come in!"

Opening the door, Aragorn was disturbed to find Frodo's breakfast-tray untouched. Frodo himself was up and dressed, sitting in his chair facing the windows which looked out onto the Sea, some distance away. His gaze was nearly as distant as the water. He did not look toward the door.

"Frodo, why have you not eaten? Was the food not to your liking? If you prefer something else, that is easily arranged - "

"No." Frodo shook his head. "It was fine. I - did not feel like eating."

Aragorn shut the door and crossed to Frodo's chair, laying a hand on the small forehead. Cool enough to the touch. He squatted beside Frodo's chair. "What is the matter, my friend?"

Frodo sighed. "Nothing, Aragorn. Nothing is wrong."

"Something must be. Else you would eat."

Frodo looked at him then, and the blue eyes suddenly shimmered with tears. "You don't know what I did."

Aragorn dropped to his knees, sitting beside the chair. "What you did?"

Frodo nodded, lips tight.

"Tell me. Please, Frodo."

Frodo bit his lip. "I...it's my fault people died."

"Frodo, I do not see how you could help that - "

"I took it! I took it, and if I had just hurried, and thrown it in, less people would have been killed - "

"Oh, Frodo." Aragorn shook his head. "Frodo, you could not help what happened. You had no control over that."

"Didn't I?" Frodo raised his voice, until finally he was shouting. "Didn't I? *I* did it! *I*! To whom it was entrusted! Aragorn, it's my fault so many people died! My fault *Gollum* died! He - he never h-had a ch-chance!" Tears flowed freely down Frodo's face, and he began to sob. "I n-never *gave* h-him a ch-chance...."

Aragorn enfolded Frodo in his arms, settling the dark mop of curls against his shoulder, allowing Frodo to weep. "Little friend, you did nothing wrong. Gollum made his own choices long ago. You gave him every opportunity for redemption...and perhaps, in the end, he managed to redeem himself by destroying it. Who can say? But what I *can* say, Frodo, is that you fulfilled your quest."

"But..." Frodo drew a shuddery breath. "Things c-cannot be as th-they were."

Aragorn closed his eyes tightly. He had expected this, but he had hoped for better. The other three hobbits, and Bilbo, all seemed so resilient, so...so unlike Frodo, who, though resilient as anyone, had not - nay, *could* not have - returned.

"No, Frodo. Nothing will ever be the same for you. I know that, and I am sorry. Forgive me."

"You couldn't h-help it." Frodo sniffled.

"But," Aragorn went on firmly, "I *can* help some things. And one of them is that you shall never go hungry again. Do you think you could eat something if I brought it for you, and we ate together on your balcony?"

"M-mushrooms?"

Aragorn laughed. "Yes, mushrooms. A mushroom and bacon omelet, and some sandwiches, and fresh strawberries with cream, and whatever else I can find in the kitchen."

"And tea. Don't forget tea."

"I won't. I promise."

Frodo smiled, and Aragorn was filled with hope afresh.

Frodo would never be the same. But he was strong. He would endure.

-the end-

FICLET: "Shadows of What Might Have Been" (PG/K+) by Febobe (B2MEM)

2012-03-30T19:47:01Z

B2MeM Challenge: B10, Hobbits (Deagol & Smeagol); N41, Food (tarts)
Format: Ficlet
Title: Shadows of What Might Have Been
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG/K+
Warnings: None
Characters: Frodo, Pippin, Merry, Sam
Pairings: N/A
Summary: The October following the Quest, four hobbits share tea in Rivendell...but curious Pippin discovers that there is more on Frodo's mind than any of them realized.

"Frodo..."

"Yes?"

Pippin looked curiously at his cousin, but there was something of shame in his face, as if he might be embarrassed by what he wanted to say. "Gollum...what was he like, really?"

Sam looked immediately worried.

"You never asked in Minas Tirith," said Merry. "Why now?"

"It's all right," Frodo said, reaching for another pumpkin tart, one of the many treats Elrond's folk had prepared for their tea that October afternoon. "I don't mind, really. I - need to talk about him, I think."

"It's all right if you don't feel like it," Pippin said.

"No." Frodo took a bite of the tart and chewed slowly, then washed it down with a sip of his tea. "He...he wasn't *always* Gollum, even with us. Smeagol was still in there somewhere. And what I saw of Smeagol I rather wondered if we might not have liked him, once upon a time. There were moments when I rather liked him even then."

Sam shuddered, but said nothing.

"I know it was hard for Sam," Frodo said, with a gentle glance toward his companion. "But I saw in Smeagol what *had* been, not what *was*. I - I think I saw who he used to be, instead of what he had become."

"But he killed Deagol," said Merry. "You told us about that story."

"Yes." Frodo's eyes went to the half-eaten tart, and he poked it around a bit with one finger...on the maimed hand. "Yes, and - forgive me, please, Sam - I - I could almost see *how* he could do such a thing."

"What do you mean?" asked Pippin.

"When I - " Frodo swallowed, his shoulders tensing. "In the tower, after they - took me, when Sam came - I - I was so very glad, so grateful to see him. But then - when he - when he told me he had the Ring, I - something came over me, something dark and terrible. For a moment I did not see Sam. I saw a hideous creature, grasping and pawing, and - I was afraid, and angry, and I nearly struck him."

He looked at Sam with shame in his features.

"I didn't mean it," he said. "I didn't mean to do such a terrible thing. But - for a moment, I was confused by the Ring, by its evil deception. And I *knew* of the Ring's treachery. I was warned. Repeatedly. I had experience with it. I knew what it might do. And yet I fell prey to it, more than once or twice. Imagine - "

He drew a shaky breath and looked into Pippin's eyes.

"Imagine if you had no knowledge of such things, no experience, if in the Shire you found a thing of great beauty, a treasure, something you were immediately fond of, and knew not that it was a magical and evil thing. Imagine then how susceptible you would be to its lies and deceit, and how in the moment you might do some terrible deed, which you would afterward regret - but by then it would be done, and you could not undo it."

Frodo turned his gaze on Merry. "That is precisely what happened to *me* at the fire, in the mountain. How then can I cast blame on Smeagol for Deagol's murder, when I myself am guilty of as much, or worse?"

"Frodo, you're not like that!" protested Pippin.

"Am I not?"

Frodo's blue eyes turned immediately back to meet Pippin's anxious gaze. There was something frightening in their depths, something dark and chilling.

"I am the same as he. I *am* Smeagol, and less innocent in my deeds than was he."

For a long moment, nobody spoke.

Pippin did not dare look away, and searched his cousin's eyes desperately, seeking something familiar beneath the haunted expression within. He seemed to find it, but it appeared to give him little relief.

"You ain't like that, Mr. Frodo," Sam said at last, reaching for Frodo's hand. "No matter what you might think, you ain't like him."

"That's just it, Sam," Frodo said sadly, squeezing Sam's hand. "I *am*."

"But you aren't," said Merry, "not really. It is about the choices you make, and you made the right choices. Unlike Gollum, or Smeagol, or whatever you want to call him."

"Did I?"

Frodo's gaze was piercing, and even Merry could not bear to hold it. He looked away for an instant, but then he looked back, steady and even.

"Frodo - you only promised to take the Ring. You never promised that you could destroy it on your own. And maybe you are like Smeagol, but you made different choices. You chose to fight it, to resist the Ring as much as you could. That makes you different. It always has and it always will."

Frodo was silent for a moment, but a tear slipped down his cheek...then another...and another.

"It's all right, Mr. Frodo," whispered Sam, reaching to rub his master's back.

"We love you, Frodo," said Pippin, rising and putting his arm around Frodo's shoulders.

"We do," said Merry, joining the others.

For a long while they huddled together, and Frodo sobbed and sobbed as his companions consoled him as best they could.

"I feel sorry for Smeagol," he managed softly at last.

"Why?" asked Pippin.

"Because," Frodo replied, "he never had friends as dear as the three of you, closer and dearer than brothers."

He rose then, and kissed Pippin and Merry on their brows, and last of all he turned to Sam, and embraced him tightly...then drew back to kiss him, too, on the forehead.

"I love all of you," he said, "more than anything. More than all the world."

"More than tarts?" Pippin asked with a wink.

Frodo smiled then, and it was like the sun shining through the rain.

"More than tarts."

-the end-

FICLET: "Horrors" (G/K) by Febobe (B2MEM)

2012-03-30T19:26:45Z

B2MeM Challenge: B7, Draw a Tolkien Character, in a halloween costume
Format: Ficlet
Title: Horrors
Genre: Humor
Rating: G/K
Warnings: None
Characters: Frodo, Pippin, Merry, Sam
Pairings: N/A
Summary: Frodo dresses up for Halloween...but did he really have to?
Notes: Set in my "Life Out Of The Ruins" universe, a contemporary AU sequel series to my crackfic "Joy From Ashes," in which Frodo and the Fellowship are all transported to modern-day Nashville, Tennessee. The snippets are not posted in any sort of chronological order. Just enjoy! :)

"Do I look ridiculous?"

Pippin snickered.

"You look fine, Frodo," Merry said, glaring in Pippin's direction. "Don't forget your eye-patch, now."

"I feel foolish." Frodo turned to study his reflection in the mirror. "I *look* foolish. Whose idea was this anyhow?"

"Mine!" volunteered Pippin. "Don't you know what they *do* here? It's the best holiday ever! We go from door to door and people give us lots of sweets!"

"I think you look fine, master," Sam said.

"Then why don't you put on *your* costume?" asked Frodo, adjusting his pirate hat.

"Well, sir - " Sam hesitated. "I was thinking 'bout going as myself."

"What?" Frodo blinked.

"Allison was saying how hobbits are stories here in this world, so I reckoned I could just say I was a hobbit, and they'd give me candy, and they wouldn't know no better, so..."

Frodo looked around at Merry and Pippin.

"I could have gone as myself and you got me dressed up as a seafaring rogue for nothing?"

Pippin and Merry looked at each other.

"Run!" Merry cried, and the two took off like an arrow, Frodo following close behind.

"Oh, you'd *better* run! When I catch the two of you - "

-the end-

FICLET: "Unexpected Healing" (G/K) by Febobe (A B2MEM Ficlet)

2012-03-30T17:55:46Z

B2MeM Challenge: O70, Diners' Club, fruit (author's choice)
Format: Ficlet
Title: Unexpected Healing
Genre: Angst
Rating: G/K
Warnings: Some food detail
Characters: Merry, Frodo, Pippin, Sam, Aragorn, Legolas
Pairings: N/A
Summary: Merry frets about the Ringbearer following the Quest...and finds unexpected healing despite his fears.

"I'm hungry," said Pippin as the hobbits sat on the balcony overlooking Minas Tirith's many levels. "What's for second breakfast?"

"Aragorn promised a surprise," said Frodo, who sat wrapped in a cloak despite the warm spring day. He seemed always to feel a chill in the air now, as he put it, much to Merry's dismay. Secretly Merry suspected that his cousin would never again enjoy truly good health, but he kept his fears to himself. At least Frodo was showing some interest in food, which was something.

"Breakfast is served - or shall I say, second breakfast is served?" Aragorn and Legolas came onto the balcony with two large trays, much to all the hobbits' delight. Carefully they set goblets of chilled orange-juice down at each place, then dishes holding strange and wondrous surprises.

"What is this?" asked Pippin as Sam eyed the main dish with doubt. "It looks like griddle-cakes all rolled up."

"They are like griddle-cakes," said Aragorn, "only much thinner and lighter, and always served with a filling or a topping. These are filled with some seafood common here - crab, and shrimp, with cheese sauce - and something I think you will all enjoy very much."

"Mushrooms!" cried Frodo as he lifted the edge of one end with his fork.

"Yes," said Aragorn with a grin. "Mushrooms, and I asked them to put extra in all of yours, but *triple* the amount in Frodo's."

Frodo's eyes widened, joy warming his thin features, and Merry felt his heart lifted.

"And the fruit?" he asked, glancing at the round thing on the other plate before him.

"Pink grapefruit," said Legolas. "A delicacy even here, where fruits like these are more commonplace. It is nice broiled with some brown sugar and a bit of cinnamon on top, which is how these were prepared."

"It smells lovely," said Frodo.

"Go ahead, try it," urged Merry. The healers had spoken of these fruits, the sort of juicy, tart things which they said were especially valuable for those long deprived of nourishing food. Merry was eager to see Frodo try it; he and Sam had returned so thin, though while Sam was regaining flesh rapidly Frodo seemed to remain hardly more than bones with the skin stretched over them. He looked far worse than he had even as he lay ill in Rivendell so many months earlier. I'll try this, Merry thought, and then once I have a taste, I'll see if Frodo will eat the rest of mine. It'll do him good.

Frodo used the special spoon provided at his place setting to dig in, squirting a bit of juice in Pippin's direction.

"That was my eye!" cried Pippin, but he laughed even as he wiped his face.

"Sorry," said Frodo, scooting over to make room as Aragorn and Legolas joined them, though the two took no food other than their own goblets of orange-juice. The hobbits had already learned that the big people considered three meals a day more than adequate, so they were well accustomed to company who only sipped something rather than joining in.

Merry held his breath as Frodo took the first bite of grapefruit.

Frodo broke into a smile. "It's wonderful!" he said. "Sam, you must try it."

"As you wish, sir." Sam, looking altogether more dubious, gave his grapefruit a try. Pippin was already halfway through his.

Merry tried a mouthful. It was delicious, but nothing compared in his mind to what it would feel like to see his cousin eating and growing strong. After a few mouthfuls, perhaps two or three, he turned his attention to the main dish.

"Frodo," he said as casually as possible, "if you'd like the rest of my grapefruit when you've finished your hot food, I shouldn't mind at all. I've had all I want of it."

"I couldn't do that, Merry," said Frodo, forking up a mouthful of mushroom and crab smothered in cheese sauce.

"Oh, yes, you could," Merry insisted. "It's the least I can do."

"No, really - "

"Frodo." Merry looked intently at his cousin, and suddenly he felt his heart in his throat. Quickly he blinked. When he spoke again his voice sounded hoarse and tight. "Frodo, let me do this for you. I know it's not enough."

Frodo looked at him for a long moment, then rose, and came to Merry's side of the table, where he took Merry's head in his hands. He bent forward and kissed the top of his cousin's head.

"It is more than enough," he said gently. "What you did on the field of Pelennor means more to me than words can say. Do not grieve, Merry! You must not worry so."

Tears began to stream down Merry's cheeks.

Frodo drew him close, and he wept, and before he knew it the other hobbits and Legolas and Aragorn had gathered round to console him.

Merry felt love enveloping him, and Frodo's arms about him.

He could not fix things.

He could not heal Frodo.

But how could he have known that Frodo would be the one to heal him?

-the end-

FIC: "On Thin Ice" (PG/K+) (1/?) by Febobe

2012-03-06T15:00:20Z

Thanks for all the help, guys! :)

B2MeM Challenge: I22, Winter Wonderland (ice skating)
Format: Multi-chapter fic
Title: On Thin Ice
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Rating: PG/K+
Warnings: Angst and some food detail later on...though this is angsty, I promise that it is NOT a deathfic, so sensitive readers are safe here!
Characters: Frodo, Sam, Daisy, May, Marigold, Bell, Gaffer (Hamfast) Gamgee, Bilbo, Dr. Boffin (OC)
Pairings: N/A
Summary: Tweenaged Frodo decides to go ice-skating on a winter's day...with disastrous results.
Author's Note: I know you cannot catch pneumonia from a soaking in the winter, or being out with wet hair, etc., etc., etc...but what if someone already carried the germs for pneumonia, and *then* took a freezing dip? I don't think it would help keep them from getting it, do you? ;) Plus there's the whole aspiration pneumonia phenomenon...which is at work in this story as well. ;) Double whammy! ;)

"Frodo, come on!"

Laughing, Frodo ran down the hill. The Gamgee girls and their brother Sam, their work finished for the moment, were building a snowhobbit, and Bilbo had given Frodo leave from lessons to go join them. Bilbo had been hesitant to let him go at first, as he still had a slight cough from a recent cold. But at last Frodo had prevailed, begging and pleading till at last Bilbo agreed to let him bundle up warm in cloak and scarf and hood and go. Even though he was a tween, he loved the opportunities afforded by winter...snowhobbits, sledding, snowball fights.... How he missed his cousins and their snowball fights!

Perhaps Sam, however, could be taught....

Stooping, he rolled up some snow into a tight ball, then took aim. "Sam! Look sharp!"

"Yes, sir!" cried Sam, turning just in time to see the snowball hurtling toward him. He ducked, and it hit May on the sleeve.

"Oh!" she cried, turning. A mischievous look suddenly came over her face, and she began gathering up some snow of her own. Frodo began making some for retaliation, and just in time too, for she was a good shot, catching him right on the ear.

"Sam! Boys against girls!" Frodo cried, and within minutes an all-out, full-scale war had begun, Sam and Frodo pelting Marigold, Daisy, and May with everything they had, and the girls flinging snowballs back. Finally, when everyone was laughing too hard to continue, Frodo gestured toward the nearby pond.

"I'm going for a skate," he said. "Who wants to join me?"

All four Gamgees looked at him with wide, startled eyes.

"You can't," said May. "It's too thin."

"How do you know?" asked Frodo. "If it were up to me, I'd say you're scared." His daredevil side had not yet completely disappeared; it was his first winter at Bag End, after all, and he had something of a reputation to preserve. The shyness he had felt all autumn seemed to vanish with the falling of snow, and he felt brave, braver than anyone else in Hobbiton.

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo, sir," said Sam, "but it ain't thick enough to skate on. Mam and Da told us so."

"It looks thick enough to me," said Frodo. "I skated every winter at Brandy Hall."

The Gamgee children looked highly dubious.

"I don't believe you," said Daisy. At once Marigold and Sam looked horrified.

"Daisy!" said Sam. "You oughtn't to talk to Mr. Frodo like that."

Frodo smiled triumphantly. He knew they couldn't stop him. He was, after all, the "young master," and certainly no one except maybe Bilbo had the right to try and stop him. Certainly not children who weren't even tweens yet.

"I'm telling Mam," said May, turning on her heel.

"You just do that," said Frodo, approaching the pond and stepping gingerly out onto its frozen surface. Marigold gasped. Only Sam approached. Daisy stood with her arms crossed, watching from afar.

"Mr. Frodo, sir, I don't reckon that's such a good idea," Sam called, but already Frodo was pushing off with his left foot, sliding forward across the pond, delighted to feel the wind against his face.

"It's fine, Sam!" he called back. "Are you sure you won't join me?"

"No, sir, I'm afraid not! Come back, sir, please!"

"Sam, it's all right! There's absolutely nothing dangerous about - " Suddenly Frodo's voice cut off. He felt the ice giving beneath him. At once he tried to stop, but it was too late. There was a loud crack-crack-cracking sound, and abruptly the pond's smooth surface fractured, giving way beneath his feet.

Daisy screamed.

"Mr. Frodo!" cried Sam.

Frodo heard them only briefly as he fell into the frigid water beneath the thin ice, shivering violently as the freezing water engulfed him and he inhaled water instead of air. As his head went under, he thought of his parents, drowning in the Brandywine nearly ten years ago.

Was this what it felt like? he wondered.

He surfaced, struggling to breathe. It felt like knives slicing through his body, so cold was the water. He could see Sam on the bank, holding out the broom the girls had been using to decorate the snowhobbit, trying to reach him. It was too far; he couldn't grab hold.

There came a commotion, and Bell Gamgee ran out to the pond. "Marigold!" she shouted. "Go and get Mr. Bilbo and your Da! Now! Daisy, run in and fetch some blankets! Hurry!" She ran to the bank and pushed Sam aside, taking the broom and leaning farther out with it. "Grab hold, young master!"

Frodo tried, and this time, with Bell's longer arms, he was able to grab hold of the broom-handle. Bell began to pull; she was not a small lady, and had more strength than Frodo had realised. Within a few minutes she had pulled him out, onto the snowy bank. As soon as he was soundly secure, she began pulling off his sodden cloak and scarf and started to unfasten his waistcoat. Frodo tried to protest, but his teeth were chattering violently.

"I'm sorry, young master," Bell said. "But Daisy's coming with blankets, and we've got to get you out of these wet things, or you'll freeze to death."

"Here, Mam," Daisy called, rushing up with an armful of blankets and quilts. Bell threw a heavy quilt over Frodo and continued working, sitting him up and wrapping him in the warm, dry blankets and the quilts on top of that.

Frodo could hear more voices now - Bilbo's, and the Gaffer's, and other hobbits besides. He would have blushed if he hadn't been shivering so violently. What would Bilbo say?

But his fears were quickly allayed. Bilbo and the Gaffer ran to him, and Bilbo threw his arms around the Frodo-bundle without hesitation.

"Oh, my lad," he said, his voice trembling, "oh, my lad. Are you all right?"

"He's like to catch his death unless we can get him warmed up," said Bell. "Mr. Bilbo, do you think you and Hamfast could get him up to Bag End between you? Best if he's carried. He's had quite a shock."

"Of course. Of course," said Bilbo, slipping into Bell's place behind Bilbo. The Gaffer lifted Frodo's feet, or rather the bundle that held Frodo's feet, and away they went.

Frodo did not know or care who followed. He only felt frozen through. What had he been thinking, he wondered?

-to be continued-