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hobbit_holidaysDisclaimer: Fanfic. Not for profit.
Rating: General
Summary: Frodo's first Yule as Bilbo's heir.
AN: I wrote this last Christmas as my Yule fic, and thought I'd repost it here. I write a blend of book and movie verse.
FRODO LAD: FIRST YULE
Frodo followed Bilbo from the road, up the path to the main door of the Great Smials, the worn red bricks damp and glistening under his feet. Bilbo used the brass knocker to knock on the door whilst Frodo stood a step behind him, shivering a bit in the wind. Although Frodo wore his heaviest woolen cloak, the air was growing sharply colder as the winter sun made its swift descent in the west, and he wondered if it might snow. He felt sorry for their pony, standing by the gate, tethered to the hitching post, and hoped there would be a warm stall and a manger full of hay for the sturdy little animal. He very much wanted to be inside out of the raw weather, but, as they heard footsteps approaching the door from inside the smial, he took a half-step back, nearly overwhelmed by a wave of shyness.
He had met his Took relations when they had visited the Brandybucks at Yule three years earlier, but he could not say that he knew any of them. The adults had been involved in adult pursuits, the three daughters had been pleased to ignore their young male cousins, and Peregrin had been only a faunt, a rather sickly child, who spent most of the time clinging to his mama's skirts and regarding his older cousins with huge green eyes that had seemed to hold equal parts of longing and fear.
During that visit, Frodo and Merry had been constrained one afternoon to take care of Pippin, as he was called, and Frodo remembered struggling to find pastimes to occupy the very restless, cranky, and demanding child. Merry, usually sweet tempered and agreeable when he was with Frodo, had turned sullen and decided to go off with some of the other lads to play outside. Frodo had managed by feeding Pippin whenever he began to whine and reading to him from a book of nursery tales that his parents had brought with them. That had resulted in an upset stomach for Pippin and a headache for Frodo.
The great door swung open and a dignified hobbit in a plain gray waistcoat and starched white shirt worn with black trousers, said, "Please come in, Mr. Baggins. The master and mistress are expecting you."
Bilbo entered the large entry hall, and Frodo followed, cowed by the butler's disapproving glance as his cloak dripped rain on the entry rug. The butler held out his hands for Bilbo's cloak and Bilbo gave it to him, saying, "Thank you, Ash."
Ash hung the cloak on a peg by the door and turned to take Frodo's. Frodo fumbled with the cloak pin, finally got it unfastened, and handed his cloak over to be hung up. He felt awkward and troublesome, and it didn't help that the butler gave a distinct sniff when he looked at him.
"I'll have our Bill bring in your things and take care of the pony and cart," Ash said. "If you will wait here a moment, I'll go and tell the master and mistress you've come." He indicated the footbath and the stool beside it where towels were stacked.
"Thank you, Ash," Bilbo replied.
Ash walked away down the left-hand corridor. Bilbo availed himself of the footbath, whilst Frodo stood waiting, feeling lost and overwhelmed by the richness of the furnishings around him. Bilbo's furniture was fine, but plain. The great sideboard here was ornately carved and trimmed with brass fittings, and the rugs on the floor were beautifully and intricately patterned. Even the stool for towels was carved and varnished to a gleam. Frodo was hesitant to step off the plain mat at the door, for fear of smearing mud on one of those priceless rugs.
As he was awaiting his turn with the footbath, he heard a shriek from somewhere within the smial. It sounded very much like a female in distress and he exchanged a worried glance with Bilbo. From a doorway to their right came the sound of light footsteps, rapidly approaching. A moment later a small hobbitlad in blue breeches and a white shirt, braces flapping at his narrow hips, came hurtling into the entry and straight at Frodo. Collision seemed inevitable. Without thinking, Frodo bent and caught the lad in his arms and stood up with him. He gazed, bemused, into the face of his catch, a very thin, sharp-nosed little face with a pointed chin, a rosebud mouth, and a pair of wide green eyes, all framed by a mop of nutmeg brown curls.
"Peregrin Took!" The lass's voice was also coming swiftly closer. "You are in serious trouble, do you hear! I will throttle you when I catch you. Come back here!"
Frodo thought the lad would be a fool to obey that command. Apparently, so did Peregrin. He wriggled and squirmed to free himself, squeaking his alarm. Frodo held on, as he had once held onto a fractious piglet which he had stopped from laying waste to a widow's garden. This lad was just as wriggly as that pig, but not covered in mud, so therefor a bit easier to hold.
"Peregrin!" The female was nearly upon them by now. "You come back here!"
Peregrin yipped like a puppy and redoubled his efforts to escape, but Frodo grasped him by the back waistband of his breeches and held on tightly. Bilbo had stepped out of the warm water and onto the drying mat, and had a towel in his hands. He chuckled. "There now, Pippin, you are safe enough. This is your cousin Frodo. He will protect you, I am sure." He bent to dry his feet.
Pippin stopped struggling, but looked at Frodo with doubt in his green eyes. "Pim's really angry," he said.
"Why. . ." Frodo began, but got no further as a half-grown lass in a green-sprigged muslin dress came through the right-hand doorway, her freckled face crimson and twisted into a frightful mask of rage and streaked with tears. She might ordinarily be pretty, but anger had spoiled her looks and when she caught sight of Pippin her eyes positively blazed and she rushed at Frodo with another piercing screech.
Frodo turned quickly to shield Pippin, afraid the enraged lass might do the child a real injury. He winced and yelped in his turn when sharp nails clawed at his back and caught in his hair, pulling it sharply. Peregrin let out a wail and buried his face against Frodo's waistcoat, clinging to him with arms and legs.
"Don't let her get me, Cousin Frodo!"
The lass attempted to climb Frodo's back as though he were a tree. He ducked his head, hunching his shoulders to protect his face.
"Here, now, my lass, that will do," Bilbo said. Frodo glanced over his shoulder and saw Bilbo pull her away, holding onto her arms when she tried to attack again.
"Let me go!" she demanded. "I'm going to pull his hair out by the roots!"
"I said that will do, Pimpernel," Bilbo replied, his voice sharper. "Settle down."
Frodo held his small cousin protectively as he turned. Pimpernel had finally settled, although she glared at her brother with a venom that would have poisoned him if it had been bottled and drunk. Pippin stuck out his tongue at her and she narrowed her eyes even more.
"Papa will give you a switching, just you see if he don't!"
Thankfully, Frodo heard several adults approaching from the left-hand corridor and a moment later a tall, imposing male hobbit in a dark brown suit came into the entry, accompanied by the butler. A lady in a gray silk gown trimmed with lace, and an older lass with dark auburn curls followed. Frodo remembered Paladin and Eglantine, but had not recalled how pretty the lady was. She had the same sharp nose and green eyes as Pippin, the same rosebud mouth, but on her the features were softened and overlaid with a serenity that was reassuring on sight. Pippin, however, seemed less than comforted by the presence of his parents and tightened his grip on Frodo.
"Bilbo," Paladin said, nodding a greeting. "Frodo, I see that you have met two of your cousins."
"Hello, Pal," Bilbo replied. "Eglantine, here is your lass, a bit the worse for wear, but largely unharmed."
"Unharmed?" Pimpernel's voice rose, but at a stern look from her father, she subsided, although she pointed a shaking finger at Pippin. "He tied all my hair ribbons in knots! And he put stones in my bed! My sheets are all spoilt with mud!"
"Sheets can be washed, Pimmie, dear," Eglantine said, her voice low and sweet, in marked contrast to her daughter's piercing tones. "Hair ribbons can be replaced. We will take care of all that. But for now, go to your room. You need to wash your face and brush your hair, dear. And you must apologize to our guests for behaving in such an unseemly manner."
Frodo actually felt sorry for Pimpernel, who clearly had to struggle to subdue her rage long enough to mumble an apology. It was an ungracious attempt, and her parents exchanged a long-suffering look, then Paladin said, "Go and do as your mother told you, Pim. Pearl will help you with your hair, won't you, Pearl?"
The older lass, who was very close to Frodo's age, looked less than enthusiastic, but only nodded and said, "Come on, Pimmie, let's go and brush your hair." The two lasses went through the right-hand doorway which presumably led to the bedchambers. Paladin and Eglantine both turned to look at their son, who peeked at them before burying his face against Frodo's waistcoat again. Frodo was uncomfortable beneath the scrutiny of the older hobbits, and wondered what he should do. Pippin was clinging to him as though to the only safety in the world. He thought he'd have to pry those little hands loose to get the lad to let go.
"Peregrin," Paladin said firmly. "Look at me."
Pippin finally raised his head and looked at his father. "Yes, Papa." His voice was thin and piping, his tone so apprehensive that it touched Frodo's heart and he found himself hoping the lad's father would not punish him too severely for his transgression. He could feel Pippin trembling against him and was surprised by the urge to hold him closer, to comfort him. If Uncle Paladin turned that reproving look on him, he would be trembling too.
"You also owe your cousins an apology," Paladin said. "You have involved them in a deplorable situation."
"Yes, Papa." Pippin drew back enough to look at Frodo and Bilbo, his face crinkled up in a look of deep contrition. "I'm sorry, Cousin Frodo. I'm sorry, Cousin Bilbo."
"That's all right, then," Bilbo said. Frodo nodded. "Accepted, Pippin."
"You can go to your room," Eglantine said. "And remain there until tea time. And I want you to think soberly about what you did to your sister. It was very unkind, Pippin."
"Yes, Mama," Pippin replied, his voice even smaller than before. He gave her an imploring look. "But it's almost time for luncheon."
"You should have considered that before you tied your sister's ribbons into knots and put stones in her bed," Paladin answered sternly, although Frodo noted that there was a twinkle in those stern brown eyes.
"Well, she threw my cocoons out the window!" Pippin claimed indignantly. "And. . ."
"Pimpernel was helping to clean the room. She did not realize the cocoons were valuable to you." Paladin sounded as though he were more weary than he would admit, and Eglantine laid her hand upon his arm and spoke to Pippin.
"Pim apologized for her mistake, Peregrin."
"She didn't mean it," Pippin muttered.
"Now, that is enough." Paladin said. "Go to your room."
Frodo set Pippin on his feet and watched him walk, his shoulders drooping dejectedly, through the right-hand doorway.
"Now, then, Frodo," Paladin said. "Perhaps you'd like to wash your feet before we go and have our luncheon."
Frodo used the footbath and dried his feet, then accompanied the others down the left-hand corridor which led to a large sitting room, a dining room and a study, with a kitchen beyond. The dining table had been set with linens and dishes and silver, and wine goblets made of delicate etched glass. As the four of them sat down to eat the roast pork and rosemary-roasted potatoes, the steaming buttered squash and the fresh bread, Frodo was pleased to see that there was wine to drink. He had tasted wine and enjoyed it, and he sipped the potent ruby liquid with pleasure. But when he took a bite of pork, he found that he could not enjoy the meal as much as he might have, knowing that his small cousin was being made to do without. For afters there was cake with a warm fruit compote, but Frodo could not eat it. He felt too guilty to enjoy a sweet when Pippin had none.
"Frodo," Eglantine said, after they had finished eating. "I have had a bed set up for you in Pippin's room. I thought you might enjoy getting to know your cousin. However, if you wish, I can give you another room. Pippin can be a bit wearing."
"I would like to stay with Pippin," Frodo said. He hesitated, then added diffidently, "May I take Pippin my dessert?" He was not sure if he was right to ask, but it seemed worth the risk. He could not forget that beseeching look Pippin had given his parents.
"Yes, you may," Paladin replied. He smiled approvingly at Frodo "That is kind of you, although you have no need to worry about his going hungry. We do not discipline our children by withholding food. They have been given their luncheon in their rooms."
"I'm sure you and Bilbo would both like to rest a bit after your long journey," Eglantine added. "We often retire to our own apartment after luncheon and rest until time for tea. Ash will show you to your rooms, and Bill has already brought in your bags for you."
Frodo carried the little dish with his cake and fruit as he and Bilbo followed the butler to the wing of the smials that housed the bedchambers. Bilbo was given a large room to himself and Frodo was led to a smaller chamber farther along the corridor. The door was shut, but the butler knocked and opened it without waiting for a reply, and held it open for Frodo to go in. Frodo stood just inside the doorway, looking around. It was a snug little chamber, with a small bed in one corner where Pippin sat cross-legged, a pony sewn of soft brown cloth and stuffed with cotton held tightly in his hands. A larger bed had been set up on the other side of the room, near the window. Frodo's small leather satchel sat on the floor beside it, with his backpack on top.
Frodo returned his gaze to his cousin as the butler closed the door softly behind him. Pippin's face was tear-streaked, his green eyes were reddened, his curls tangled, and he had still not put his braces up over his shoulders. He looked altogether miserable, and peered back at Frodo apprehensively, as though expecting a scolding.
"I brought you my cake," Frodo told him, and watched a beautiful smile light up the lad's face. How easy it was to please him, he thought, amused and gratified. He gave Pippin the dish and spoon. Pippin beamed at him. "Thank you, Cousin Frodo." He tucked into the treat with gusto.
Frodo took off his jacket and hung it on the peg rack by the door, then opened his backpack and took out the book he had brought along with him. He settled himself on the bed he'd been given. It was made up with fresh white sheets, a woolen blanket and a patchwork quilt, and there was a soft, knitted shawl at the foot of the bed, which he pulled up over his legs before he leaned back against the fluffy pillows. He sighed, relaxing. He was very tired, and had been a bit cold until now, but the bed was soft and the shawl was thick and warm, and Pippin's fireplace held a crackling fire. Oil lamps flickered, lending a gentle light. The windows were opaque with frost, and Frodo thought it likely that it had begun to snow, but felt too comfortable to get up and see.
Pippin, having finished his cake and fruit, set the dish on his night table, then slid down from his bed and scampered over to Frodo's and jumped up beside him. He blinked up at Frodo.
"Is it all right for me to come?" he asked hesitantly, as though only just realizing he may have made an error in judgement. "Do you mind, cousin?"
"No, I don't mind." Frodo was rather pleased when the lad immediately snuggled nearer. Pippin was small and sturdy, and it felt good to have him close. Frodo put his arm around his cousin and smiled down at the bright face raised to his.
"It's much warmer this way," Pippin said. "It was so very nice of you to bring me your cake, cousin Frodo. I like sweets ever so much. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Pippin." Frodo made sure the shawl covered Pippin's feet. Despite the fire, Pippin was shivering and Frodo hugged him a bit nearer to his own warmth.
Pippin clutched his stuffed pony to his chest and chattered happily about the kittens that lived in the stable, and the real live pony colt that was to be his very own when it was big enough to ride. He described the cocoons he had collected along the stream bank, although he mourned their loss. "But I will find others," he confided to Frodo. "I know just where to look for them." He had also collected pretty stones he found, and all of those were lined up on his windowsills. They had been carefully washed and polished, and they shone and glistened in the white light that fell softly through the windows.
"They are very pretty, Pippin," Frodo told him, admiring the stones in their many shapes and tints. He yawned. "Do you think perhaps we should take a nap? Uncle Bilbo told me there will be a party and a feast whilst we are here."
"Oh, we have lots of time. We are to have the feast tomorrow for luncheon," Pippin told him. "And the party with dancing and games will be tomorrow night. Then we will all go to Bag End on the fourth day to have Yule there, with you and cousin Bilbo. I don't think I have ever been to Bag End. Is it a nice smial?"
"Very nice," Frodo replied. "You were there once, actually, when you were so small you cannot remember it now. You can sleep in my room with me if you like. My bed is quite large enough for the two of us."
Pippin smiled. "Then I'm sure I'll like it. Is your book a story book or is it a stodgy old ledger? Papa has so many ledgers full of all sorts of boring stuff."
"It is a book of tales that Bilbo gave to me," Frodo answered, opening the book to the first story. "This one is the story of how Bilbo met a troop of dwarves and went traveling with them in search of treasure. Shall I read a bit to you?"
"Oh, yes, would you please?" Pippin looked up at him with a delighted smile. "No one here will ever read to me, and I haven't learnt to read very much on my own."
Pippin settled down against him, sighed contentedly, and Frodo glanced once more at the frosted windows, then began to read. Soon afterward, he realized his little cousin's breathing had become deep and regular, and, smiling, he laid his book open on his chest and slipped easily into a nap of his own.
Bag End was warm and welcoming when they entered through the green door where a Yule wreath made of holly, mistletoe and pine branches had been hung. The Gaffer had known when to expect them back, and all the rooms had been cleaned and made ready for them and their guests. Mrs. Gamgee had sent up a large pot of chicken stew topped with dumplings, and it was being kept warm at the side of the cook stove, sending out a warm, rich fragrance to welcome them home. Frodo presented Sam to Pippin, and watched them smile shyly at each other. The Gaffer, however, was uneasy at being introduced to the squire's guests, and after a few mumbled pleasantries, called, "Come along, Sammie, your mam will be waitin' tea for us."
Frodo had hoped Sam would be allowed to stay and take tea with them. He waved regretfully from the doorway, but Sam beamed cheerfully at him and called, "A happy Yule, Master Frodo."
"And to you, and all your family, my Sam," Frodo answered and gave one final wave before he shut the door and turned back to smile at Bilbo.
Their tea was a festive meal. After they had eaten, Paladin, Frodo, and Pippin, all wrapped up warmly in cloaks, hats and gloves, went walking down the Hobbiton Road to the village where they bought apples and nuts at one stall, sugar-frosted apricots at another, and honey cakes at Mistress Weeks's bake shop. Along the way, they managed to purchase the necessities of eggs, bread and pipeweed.
They walked home as a light snowfall drifted down, laying a lacy covering of white over the ground. Pippin, unencumbered by basket or sack, ran ahead of them, then ran back, dashed aside to look over the fences of the smials along the Hobbiton road, sang nonsense rhymes that he created on the spot, and tried to roll the dry, powdery snow into snowballs to throw at Frodo and Paladin. Only when they were nearly back home did his energy flag slightly, then he came and walked at Frodo's side and, after a moment, slipped his small hand into Frodo's hand.
When they returned to Bag End, the aroma of roasting goose met them. Paladin was tired and went to his room, where Eglantine had already gone to rest. Frodo and Pippin followed their noses to the kitchen, where Bilbo was just setting the kettle on for tea.
"There are my lads," he said cheerfully. "Come, we'll have tea. And is that honeycakes I smell? I hope you brought enough for an old hobbit as well."
"Uncle Pal bought enough for everyone," Frodo replied, sniffing the savory aroma of the goose and the sliced potatoes baking with butter and onions. He took the eggs downstairs to the cold pantry, came back and put away the bread and the apricots, which were wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. With the little basket filled with honeycakes in his hands, he turned to Bilbo. "It's quite a long time until supper. Shall we have cakes and tea now?"
"My very thought," Bilbo answered, beaming. "You and Pippin set the table and I will make the tea."
Frodo got down the small plates and cups. He was a bit taken aback when Pippin's sisters trooped in from the garden where they had been walking, all of them rosy and cold and hungry, then he went to fetch more dishes. The six of them crowded around the kitchen table to have tea and honeycakes. Even Pimpernel was put in a good mood by the sweets and after the treat, she and her sisters took themselves off to the parlor to read and play until suppertime.
Bilbo decided that they would have an apple pie for afters, and allowed Frodo and Pippin to help with the baking. Pippin's assistance consisted mainly of watching Frodo make the pie crust, and snatching bits of the apple to nibble, giggling when his cousins only smiled at his brazen thieving. At last they put the pie into the oven, where it soon began to add its own honey-cinnamon-apple fragrance to the air. Bilbo and Frodo washed up the dishes whilst Pippin played with small sticks of kindling wood, which he pretended were hobbits and dwarves. He had become very much interested in dwarves since Frodo had begun reading to him from Bilbo's book of tales.
At bedtime, tired from the long and busy day, Frodo helped Pippin wash his sticky face and hands, and brush his unruly curls, then put his soft white nightshirt on him and watched him climb into bed beneath the star quilt. Pippin stroked the quilt, tracing with one finger over one of the white stars stitched onto the dark blue background. "I like your quilt, Cousin Frodo. It's so pretty."
"It is pretty," Frodo agreed. "Uncle Bilbo gave it to me when I came to live here with him. I am very fond of it indeed." He washed his own face and had just put on his nightshirt when a knock came at his door and he called, "Come in."
Bilbo, in his dark green, woolen dressing gown, came in, smiling at them. "I wanted to be sure my lads are all warm and cozy," he said. "The weather has turned much colder. Do you want another blanket, my boy?"
"We are fine, Uncle. Aren't we, Pippin?"
Pippin had snuggled down in the bed, only his curls and eyes visible above the covers. "Yes, Cousin Frodo. It's very warm here."
"Good, good." Bilbo gently touched Frodo's cheek, his grey eyes searching Frodo's eyes. "I think that you are missing Merry very much, aren't you, my lad?"
"Well. . ." Frodo admitted. "A bit. Although it is so nice to be with you for Yule, Uncle."
"I know. Just as I know that you are lonely for your cousin. You've not been away from him at Yule for a long time." Bilbo smiled. "And we will do something about that the day after tomorrow. When the Tooks go on to Brandy Hall, I think we shall go with them, for a visit. I am sure Esme and Saradoc will be more than glad to see you, and I would like very much to talk to Rory, so a visit now will be a very good thing all round. Now, what do you say to that?"
Frodo couldn't answer. His throat was too tight to allow him to speak. He flung his arms around Bilbo's neck and hugged him, pressing his face against the soft wool covering Bilbo's shoulder and breathing in the familiar and beloved scents of soap, ink and pipeweed. Bilbo returned the embrace and gave Frodo's back a gentle rub. When he spoke, his voice was a bit husky. "There now, my lad, I know. Hop into bed now."
Still speechless with joy, Frodo hurried to get into the warm bed with Pippin, who instantly snuggled close to him and patted his cheek with a soft little hand, looking concernedly into his face.
"What's wrong, cousin?" Pippin asked. "Aren't you happy to be going to Brandy Hall with us?"
"Oh, yes, Pip," Frodo managed to say. "I am so happy."
Bilbo tucked the quilt in snugly around them both and gave Pippin a stern look. "You are to go to sleep, young Peregrin Took, and let your cousin sleep as well. Tomorrow we will go down to the party field for a Yule blessing by the Mayor of Hobbiton, and then there will be gifts to distribute along Bagshot Row, and of course, gifts for you and Frodo and the lasses, and then another feast at dinner time, to which many of our neighbors will come. There is much to look forward to, and you must be well rested so that you will be able to enjoy all the pleasures we have planned. May I depend upon your good behavior?"
"Yes, Cousin Bilbo," Pippin replied with a gravity that was comical in one so young, although his green eyes fairly danced with excitement.
"Good, then I bid you both a good night."
Bilbo turned the lamp down until it was no more than a gleam in the dark, along with the rosy glow from the fireplace, then he left them alone. Pippin giggled.
"How will we ever sleep with so much to think about, Cousin Frodo?"
"I don't know," Frodo admitted. "But I suppose I can tell you a story. Shall I? I have been thinking of a story about a magical golden stag that lives in the woods near Buckland. Would you like to hear that one?"
"Oh, yes," Pippin agreed happily, and cuddled close, his head on Frodo's shoulder.
"All right then. Close your eyes, and I'll begin." Frodo hugged Pippin, his heart brimming with anticipation of the days to come, and wondered how he could ever wait for time to pass until he saw Merry again.
Frodo, dressed in the dark blue velvet suit and the white linen shirt that Bilbo had given him as a Yule gift, entered the great hall alone. Brandy Hall had been decorated with holly and pine and mistletoe. In the fireplace in the big room, a Yule log burned with a bright flame. The Brandybucks, their relations and tenants and many of their neighbors had gathered for a grand party. All the furnishings had been pushed to the walls for dancing. The room was crowded with hobbits dressed in their finest clothing, all chattering, eating and drinking punch from the silver punch bowl that sat on the table at one side of the room. Beside it was another long table that fairly swayed under the weight of all the delectable foods prepared for the Yule party.
Frodo had checked his reflection in the looking glass in his room, and had been as satisfied as possible with what he saw. His skin was still pale, but there was a hint of pink in his cheeks, and he might actually have gotten a bit of a tummy. He had turned sideways to check and smoothed the rich velvet over his flat middle and sighed. Well, perhaps not a real tummy. He might never be properly rounded, for a hobbit. Bilbo had told him that his mother and father had both been on the lean side.
But his clothing really was the finest he had ever had, and it made him feel elegant to wear it. The lace frothed at the throat and emerged from his coat sleeves to foam around his hands. The buttons of the coat were made from some softly-shining, silvery metal, and Bilbo had told him they had once adorned a coat belonging to Drogo. Frodo's hair needed trimming, but the length and gleam of his curls seemed well suited to the sumptuous clothing, and he noticed that several of the lasses were giving him surprised glances, then more flirtatious looks as he made his way to the refreshment table. He felt the pinch of bitter amusement at that. Those same lasses had ignored him when he was "that Baggins orphan." It was only now, when he was Bilbo's heir, that he had suddenly become attractive, flat tummy notwithstanding.
"Frodo!" At the sound of that dear, familiar voice calling his name, Frodo swung round to see Merry darting toward him, eyes alight, face bright with joy. "Frodo, oh, Frodo! You're here!"
Frodo braced himself for Merry's arrival, and found himself holding an armful of solid, wriggly young hobbitlad as Merry babbled at him.
"No one told me you'd come! Mum and Papa kept you a secret! But you're really here! Oh, I am so glad!"
"Oof, you're heavy." Frodo hugged Merry close. He looked over Merry's head and saw Esme and Saradoc beaming at them, along with Bilbo and the Tooks, and he beamed back before he released Merry and held him away to look at him.
Merry wore a dark green suit with a linen shirt and a red tie fashioned into a fluffy bow at his throat. His hair shone the sunny gold of ripe wheat, and his dark blue eyes were alight as he gazed back at Frodo.
"You're taller," Frodo said.
"You're skinnier."
"No!"
"Well, perhaps not skinnier, but no fatter. We'll have to make sure you get the very best treats from the table."
They started toward the table, but stopped as a small voice spoke brightly at Frodo's side.
"Hullo," Pippin said, looking expectantly up at his cousins. His shirt was missing a button, his jacket was askew, his curls all in tangles, and there was a smear of red jelly on his cheek and sugar on his mouth. He took Frodo's hand with a sticky paw and smiled charmingly at Merry, who looked bemused and a bit put out, but then answered Frodo's rueful smile with one of his own.
"Hullo, Pip. How are you?"
"Very well, thankyou," Pippin replied, and took Merry's hand too, looking from one of his big cousins to the other. "Where are we going?"
I suppose," Frodo said, "We had better start with dinner."
"Oh, good," Pippin said. "I'm starving. And then will you go on with the tale of the magical golden stag?"
"What golden stag is this?" Merry demanded, as they went toward the table. "I haven't heard that tale."
"Oh, Cousin Frodo will begin again at the beginning," Pippin said blithely. "Won't you, Cousin Frodo?"
Frodo looked down at his little cousin's confident smile, then back to Merry's eager face, and nodded.
"Of course," he said.
Frodo had been given one of the finest guest rooms, one with a large, deep featherbed. He was unsurprised to find himself playing host to both of his younger cousins, who insisted they would sleep nowhere else but with Frodo.
They had all washed and put on their nightshirts, and now were ensconced in the luxurious bed, Frodo in the middle, with Merry on his right, head leaning against his shoulder, and Pippin curled up in the curve of his left arm, whilst the wind rattled the shutters and the fire crackled and murmured in the grate. They had filched candies and little cakes from the feast table, and they contentedly munched their treats as Frodo started again to tell the story of an enchanted golden stag that haunted the woods of Buckland, a tale that could only begin in one way.
"Once upon a time. . ."
END
Rating: General
Summary: Frodo's first Yule as Bilbo's heir.
AN: I wrote this last Christmas as my Yule fic, and thought I'd repost it here. I write a blend of book and movie verse.
FRODO LAD: FIRST YULE
Frodo followed Bilbo from the road, up the path to the main door of the Great Smials, the worn red bricks damp and glistening under his feet. Bilbo used the brass knocker to knock on the door whilst Frodo stood a step behind him, shivering a bit in the wind. Although Frodo wore his heaviest woolen cloak, the air was growing sharply colder as the winter sun made its swift descent in the west, and he wondered if it might snow. He felt sorry for their pony, standing by the gate, tethered to the hitching post, and hoped there would be a warm stall and a manger full of hay for the sturdy little animal. He very much wanted to be inside out of the raw weather, but, as they heard footsteps approaching the door from inside the smial, he took a half-step back, nearly overwhelmed by a wave of shyness.
He had met his Took relations when they had visited the Brandybucks at Yule three years earlier, but he could not say that he knew any of them. The adults had been involved in adult pursuits, the three daughters had been pleased to ignore their young male cousins, and Peregrin had been only a faunt, a rather sickly child, who spent most of the time clinging to his mama's skirts and regarding his older cousins with huge green eyes that had seemed to hold equal parts of longing and fear.
During that visit, Frodo and Merry had been constrained one afternoon to take care of Pippin, as he was called, and Frodo remembered struggling to find pastimes to occupy the very restless, cranky, and demanding child. Merry, usually sweet tempered and agreeable when he was with Frodo, had turned sullen and decided to go off with some of the other lads to play outside. Frodo had managed by feeding Pippin whenever he began to whine and reading to him from a book of nursery tales that his parents had brought with them. That had resulted in an upset stomach for Pippin and a headache for Frodo.
The great door swung open and a dignified hobbit in a plain gray waistcoat and starched white shirt worn with black trousers, said, "Please come in, Mr. Baggins. The master and mistress are expecting you."
Bilbo entered the large entry hall, and Frodo followed, cowed by the butler's disapproving glance as his cloak dripped rain on the entry rug. The butler held out his hands for Bilbo's cloak and Bilbo gave it to him, saying, "Thank you, Ash."
Ash hung the cloak on a peg by the door and turned to take Frodo's. Frodo fumbled with the cloak pin, finally got it unfastened, and handed his cloak over to be hung up. He felt awkward and troublesome, and it didn't help that the butler gave a distinct sniff when he looked at him.
"I'll have our Bill bring in your things and take care of the pony and cart," Ash said. "If you will wait here a moment, I'll go and tell the master and mistress you've come." He indicated the footbath and the stool beside it where towels were stacked.
"Thank you, Ash," Bilbo replied.
Ash walked away down the left-hand corridor. Bilbo availed himself of the footbath, whilst Frodo stood waiting, feeling lost and overwhelmed by the richness of the furnishings around him. Bilbo's furniture was fine, but plain. The great sideboard here was ornately carved and trimmed with brass fittings, and the rugs on the floor were beautifully and intricately patterned. Even the stool for towels was carved and varnished to a gleam. Frodo was hesitant to step off the plain mat at the door, for fear of smearing mud on one of those priceless rugs.
As he was awaiting his turn with the footbath, he heard a shriek from somewhere within the smial. It sounded very much like a female in distress and he exchanged a worried glance with Bilbo. From a doorway to their right came the sound of light footsteps, rapidly approaching. A moment later a small hobbitlad in blue breeches and a white shirt, braces flapping at his narrow hips, came hurtling into the entry and straight at Frodo. Collision seemed inevitable. Without thinking, Frodo bent and caught the lad in his arms and stood up with him. He gazed, bemused, into the face of his catch, a very thin, sharp-nosed little face with a pointed chin, a rosebud mouth, and a pair of wide green eyes, all framed by a mop of nutmeg brown curls.
"Peregrin Took!" The lass's voice was also coming swiftly closer. "You are in serious trouble, do you hear! I will throttle you when I catch you. Come back here!"
Frodo thought the lad would be a fool to obey that command. Apparently, so did Peregrin. He wriggled and squirmed to free himself, squeaking his alarm. Frodo held on, as he had once held onto a fractious piglet which he had stopped from laying waste to a widow's garden. This lad was just as wriggly as that pig, but not covered in mud, so therefor a bit easier to hold.
"Peregrin!" The female was nearly upon them by now. "You come back here!"
Peregrin yipped like a puppy and redoubled his efforts to escape, but Frodo grasped him by the back waistband of his breeches and held on tightly. Bilbo had stepped out of the warm water and onto the drying mat, and had a towel in his hands. He chuckled. "There now, Pippin, you are safe enough. This is your cousin Frodo. He will protect you, I am sure." He bent to dry his feet.
Pippin stopped struggling, but looked at Frodo with doubt in his green eyes. "Pim's really angry," he said.
"Why. . ." Frodo began, but got no further as a half-grown lass in a green-sprigged muslin dress came through the right-hand doorway, her freckled face crimson and twisted into a frightful mask of rage and streaked with tears. She might ordinarily be pretty, but anger had spoiled her looks and when she caught sight of Pippin her eyes positively blazed and she rushed at Frodo with another piercing screech.
Frodo turned quickly to shield Pippin, afraid the enraged lass might do the child a real injury. He winced and yelped in his turn when sharp nails clawed at his back and caught in his hair, pulling it sharply. Peregrin let out a wail and buried his face against Frodo's waistcoat, clinging to him with arms and legs.
"Don't let her get me, Cousin Frodo!"
The lass attempted to climb Frodo's back as though he were a tree. He ducked his head, hunching his shoulders to protect his face.
"Here, now, my lass, that will do," Bilbo said. Frodo glanced over his shoulder and saw Bilbo pull her away, holding onto her arms when she tried to attack again.
"Let me go!" she demanded. "I'm going to pull his hair out by the roots!"
"I said that will do, Pimpernel," Bilbo replied, his voice sharper. "Settle down."
Frodo held his small cousin protectively as he turned. Pimpernel had finally settled, although she glared at her brother with a venom that would have poisoned him if it had been bottled and drunk. Pippin stuck out his tongue at her and she narrowed her eyes even more.
"Papa will give you a switching, just you see if he don't!"
Thankfully, Frodo heard several adults approaching from the left-hand corridor and a moment later a tall, imposing male hobbit in a dark brown suit came into the entry, accompanied by the butler. A lady in a gray silk gown trimmed with lace, and an older lass with dark auburn curls followed. Frodo remembered Paladin and Eglantine, but had not recalled how pretty the lady was. She had the same sharp nose and green eyes as Pippin, the same rosebud mouth, but on her the features were softened and overlaid with a serenity that was reassuring on sight. Pippin, however, seemed less than comforted by the presence of his parents and tightened his grip on Frodo.
"Bilbo," Paladin said, nodding a greeting. "Frodo, I see that you have met two of your cousins."
"Hello, Pal," Bilbo replied. "Eglantine, here is your lass, a bit the worse for wear, but largely unharmed."
"Unharmed?" Pimpernel's voice rose, but at a stern look from her father, she subsided, although she pointed a shaking finger at Pippin. "He tied all my hair ribbons in knots! And he put stones in my bed! My sheets are all spoilt with mud!"
"Sheets can be washed, Pimmie, dear," Eglantine said, her voice low and sweet, in marked contrast to her daughter's piercing tones. "Hair ribbons can be replaced. We will take care of all that. But for now, go to your room. You need to wash your face and brush your hair, dear. And you must apologize to our guests for behaving in such an unseemly manner."
Frodo actually felt sorry for Pimpernel, who clearly had to struggle to subdue her rage long enough to mumble an apology. It was an ungracious attempt, and her parents exchanged a long-suffering look, then Paladin said, "Go and do as your mother told you, Pim. Pearl will help you with your hair, won't you, Pearl?"
The older lass, who was very close to Frodo's age, looked less than enthusiastic, but only nodded and said, "Come on, Pimmie, let's go and brush your hair." The two lasses went through the right-hand doorway which presumably led to the bedchambers. Paladin and Eglantine both turned to look at their son, who peeked at them before burying his face against Frodo's waistcoat again. Frodo was uncomfortable beneath the scrutiny of the older hobbits, and wondered what he should do. Pippin was clinging to him as though to the only safety in the world. He thought he'd have to pry those little hands loose to get the lad to let go.
"Peregrin," Paladin said firmly. "Look at me."
Pippin finally raised his head and looked at his father. "Yes, Papa." His voice was thin and piping, his tone so apprehensive that it touched Frodo's heart and he found himself hoping the lad's father would not punish him too severely for his transgression. He could feel Pippin trembling against him and was surprised by the urge to hold him closer, to comfort him. If Uncle Paladin turned that reproving look on him, he would be trembling too.
"You also owe your cousins an apology," Paladin said. "You have involved them in a deplorable situation."
"Yes, Papa." Pippin drew back enough to look at Frodo and Bilbo, his face crinkled up in a look of deep contrition. "I'm sorry, Cousin Frodo. I'm sorry, Cousin Bilbo."
"That's all right, then," Bilbo said. Frodo nodded. "Accepted, Pippin."
"You can go to your room," Eglantine said. "And remain there until tea time. And I want you to think soberly about what you did to your sister. It was very unkind, Pippin."
"Yes, Mama," Pippin replied, his voice even smaller than before. He gave her an imploring look. "But it's almost time for luncheon."
"You should have considered that before you tied your sister's ribbons into knots and put stones in her bed," Paladin answered sternly, although Frodo noted that there was a twinkle in those stern brown eyes.
"Well, she threw my cocoons out the window!" Pippin claimed indignantly. "And. . ."
"Pimpernel was helping to clean the room. She did not realize the cocoons were valuable to you." Paladin sounded as though he were more weary than he would admit, and Eglantine laid her hand upon his arm and spoke to Pippin.
"Pim apologized for her mistake, Peregrin."
"She didn't mean it," Pippin muttered.
"Now, that is enough." Paladin said. "Go to your room."
Frodo set Pippin on his feet and watched him walk, his shoulders drooping dejectedly, through the right-hand doorway.
"Now, then, Frodo," Paladin said. "Perhaps you'd like to wash your feet before we go and have our luncheon."
Frodo used the footbath and dried his feet, then accompanied the others down the left-hand corridor which led to a large sitting room, a dining room and a study, with a kitchen beyond. The dining table had been set with linens and dishes and silver, and wine goblets made of delicate etched glass. As the four of them sat down to eat the roast pork and rosemary-roasted potatoes, the steaming buttered squash and the fresh bread, Frodo was pleased to see that there was wine to drink. He had tasted wine and enjoyed it, and he sipped the potent ruby liquid with pleasure. But when he took a bite of pork, he found that he could not enjoy the meal as much as he might have, knowing that his small cousin was being made to do without. For afters there was cake with a warm fruit compote, but Frodo could not eat it. He felt too guilty to enjoy a sweet when Pippin had none.
"Frodo," Eglantine said, after they had finished eating. "I have had a bed set up for you in Pippin's room. I thought you might enjoy getting to know your cousin. However, if you wish, I can give you another room. Pippin can be a bit wearing."
"I would like to stay with Pippin," Frodo said. He hesitated, then added diffidently, "May I take Pippin my dessert?" He was not sure if he was right to ask, but it seemed worth the risk. He could not forget that beseeching look Pippin had given his parents.
"Yes, you may," Paladin replied. He smiled approvingly at Frodo "That is kind of you, although you have no need to worry about his going hungry. We do not discipline our children by withholding food. They have been given their luncheon in their rooms."
"I'm sure you and Bilbo would both like to rest a bit after your long journey," Eglantine added. "We often retire to our own apartment after luncheon and rest until time for tea. Ash will show you to your rooms, and Bill has already brought in your bags for you."
Frodo carried the little dish with his cake and fruit as he and Bilbo followed the butler to the wing of the smials that housed the bedchambers. Bilbo was given a large room to himself and Frodo was led to a smaller chamber farther along the corridor. The door was shut, but the butler knocked and opened it without waiting for a reply, and held it open for Frodo to go in. Frodo stood just inside the doorway, looking around. It was a snug little chamber, with a small bed in one corner where Pippin sat cross-legged, a pony sewn of soft brown cloth and stuffed with cotton held tightly in his hands. A larger bed had been set up on the other side of the room, near the window. Frodo's small leather satchel sat on the floor beside it, with his backpack on top.
Frodo returned his gaze to his cousin as the butler closed the door softly behind him. Pippin's face was tear-streaked, his green eyes were reddened, his curls tangled, and he had still not put his braces up over his shoulders. He looked altogether miserable, and peered back at Frodo apprehensively, as though expecting a scolding.
"I brought you my cake," Frodo told him, and watched a beautiful smile light up the lad's face. How easy it was to please him, he thought, amused and gratified. He gave Pippin the dish and spoon. Pippin beamed at him. "Thank you, Cousin Frodo." He tucked into the treat with gusto.
Frodo took off his jacket and hung it on the peg rack by the door, then opened his backpack and took out the book he had brought along with him. He settled himself on the bed he'd been given. It was made up with fresh white sheets, a woolen blanket and a patchwork quilt, and there was a soft, knitted shawl at the foot of the bed, which he pulled up over his legs before he leaned back against the fluffy pillows. He sighed, relaxing. He was very tired, and had been a bit cold until now, but the bed was soft and the shawl was thick and warm, and Pippin's fireplace held a crackling fire. Oil lamps flickered, lending a gentle light. The windows were opaque with frost, and Frodo thought it likely that it had begun to snow, but felt too comfortable to get up and see.
Pippin, having finished his cake and fruit, set the dish on his night table, then slid down from his bed and scampered over to Frodo's and jumped up beside him. He blinked up at Frodo.
"Is it all right for me to come?" he asked hesitantly, as though only just realizing he may have made an error in judgement. "Do you mind, cousin?"
"No, I don't mind." Frodo was rather pleased when the lad immediately snuggled nearer. Pippin was small and sturdy, and it felt good to have him close. Frodo put his arm around his cousin and smiled down at the bright face raised to his.
"It's much warmer this way," Pippin said. "It was so very nice of you to bring me your cake, cousin Frodo. I like sweets ever so much. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Pippin." Frodo made sure the shawl covered Pippin's feet. Despite the fire, Pippin was shivering and Frodo hugged him a bit nearer to his own warmth.
Pippin clutched his stuffed pony to his chest and chattered happily about the kittens that lived in the stable, and the real live pony colt that was to be his very own when it was big enough to ride. He described the cocoons he had collected along the stream bank, although he mourned their loss. "But I will find others," he confided to Frodo. "I know just where to look for them." He had also collected pretty stones he found, and all of those were lined up on his windowsills. They had been carefully washed and polished, and they shone and glistened in the white light that fell softly through the windows.
"They are very pretty, Pippin," Frodo told him, admiring the stones in their many shapes and tints. He yawned. "Do you think perhaps we should take a nap? Uncle Bilbo told me there will be a party and a feast whilst we are here."
"Oh, we have lots of time. We are to have the feast tomorrow for luncheon," Pippin told him. "And the party with dancing and games will be tomorrow night. Then we will all go to Bag End on the fourth day to have Yule there, with you and cousin Bilbo. I don't think I have ever been to Bag End. Is it a nice smial?"
"Very nice," Frodo replied. "You were there once, actually, when you were so small you cannot remember it now. You can sleep in my room with me if you like. My bed is quite large enough for the two of us."
Pippin smiled. "Then I'm sure I'll like it. Is your book a story book or is it a stodgy old ledger? Papa has so many ledgers full of all sorts of boring stuff."
"It is a book of tales that Bilbo gave to me," Frodo answered, opening the book to the first story. "This one is the story of how Bilbo met a troop of dwarves and went traveling with them in search of treasure. Shall I read a bit to you?"
"Oh, yes, would you please?" Pippin looked up at him with a delighted smile. "No one here will ever read to me, and I haven't learnt to read very much on my own."
Pippin settled down against him, sighed contentedly, and Frodo glanced once more at the frosted windows, then began to read. Soon afterward, he realized his little cousin's breathing had become deep and regular, and, smiling, he laid his book open on his chest and slipped easily into a nap of his own.
Bag End was warm and welcoming when they entered through the green door where a Yule wreath made of holly, mistletoe and pine branches had been hung. The Gaffer had known when to expect them back, and all the rooms had been cleaned and made ready for them and their guests. Mrs. Gamgee had sent up a large pot of chicken stew topped with dumplings, and it was being kept warm at the side of the cook stove, sending out a warm, rich fragrance to welcome them home. Frodo presented Sam to Pippin, and watched them smile shyly at each other. The Gaffer, however, was uneasy at being introduced to the squire's guests, and after a few mumbled pleasantries, called, "Come along, Sammie, your mam will be waitin' tea for us."
Frodo had hoped Sam would be allowed to stay and take tea with them. He waved regretfully from the doorway, but Sam beamed cheerfully at him and called, "A happy Yule, Master Frodo."
"And to you, and all your family, my Sam," Frodo answered and gave one final wave before he shut the door and turned back to smile at Bilbo.
Their tea was a festive meal. After they had eaten, Paladin, Frodo, and Pippin, all wrapped up warmly in cloaks, hats and gloves, went walking down the Hobbiton Road to the village where they bought apples and nuts at one stall, sugar-frosted apricots at another, and honey cakes at Mistress Weeks's bake shop. Along the way, they managed to purchase the necessities of eggs, bread and pipeweed.
They walked home as a light snowfall drifted down, laying a lacy covering of white over the ground. Pippin, unencumbered by basket or sack, ran ahead of them, then ran back, dashed aside to look over the fences of the smials along the Hobbiton road, sang nonsense rhymes that he created on the spot, and tried to roll the dry, powdery snow into snowballs to throw at Frodo and Paladin. Only when they were nearly back home did his energy flag slightly, then he came and walked at Frodo's side and, after a moment, slipped his small hand into Frodo's hand.
When they returned to Bag End, the aroma of roasting goose met them. Paladin was tired and went to his room, where Eglantine had already gone to rest. Frodo and Pippin followed their noses to the kitchen, where Bilbo was just setting the kettle on for tea.
"There are my lads," he said cheerfully. "Come, we'll have tea. And is that honeycakes I smell? I hope you brought enough for an old hobbit as well."
"Uncle Pal bought enough for everyone," Frodo replied, sniffing the savory aroma of the goose and the sliced potatoes baking with butter and onions. He took the eggs downstairs to the cold pantry, came back and put away the bread and the apricots, which were wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. With the little basket filled with honeycakes in his hands, he turned to Bilbo. "It's quite a long time until supper. Shall we have cakes and tea now?"
"My very thought," Bilbo answered, beaming. "You and Pippin set the table and I will make the tea."
Frodo got down the small plates and cups. He was a bit taken aback when Pippin's sisters trooped in from the garden where they had been walking, all of them rosy and cold and hungry, then he went to fetch more dishes. The six of them crowded around the kitchen table to have tea and honeycakes. Even Pimpernel was put in a good mood by the sweets and after the treat, she and her sisters took themselves off to the parlor to read and play until suppertime.
Bilbo decided that they would have an apple pie for afters, and allowed Frodo and Pippin to help with the baking. Pippin's assistance consisted mainly of watching Frodo make the pie crust, and snatching bits of the apple to nibble, giggling when his cousins only smiled at his brazen thieving. At last they put the pie into the oven, where it soon began to add its own honey-cinnamon-apple fragrance to the air. Bilbo and Frodo washed up the dishes whilst Pippin played with small sticks of kindling wood, which he pretended were hobbits and dwarves. He had become very much interested in dwarves since Frodo had begun reading to him from Bilbo's book of tales.
At bedtime, tired from the long and busy day, Frodo helped Pippin wash his sticky face and hands, and brush his unruly curls, then put his soft white nightshirt on him and watched him climb into bed beneath the star quilt. Pippin stroked the quilt, tracing with one finger over one of the white stars stitched onto the dark blue background. "I like your quilt, Cousin Frodo. It's so pretty."
"It is pretty," Frodo agreed. "Uncle Bilbo gave it to me when I came to live here with him. I am very fond of it indeed." He washed his own face and had just put on his nightshirt when a knock came at his door and he called, "Come in."
Bilbo, in his dark green, woolen dressing gown, came in, smiling at them. "I wanted to be sure my lads are all warm and cozy," he said. "The weather has turned much colder. Do you want another blanket, my boy?"
"We are fine, Uncle. Aren't we, Pippin?"
Pippin had snuggled down in the bed, only his curls and eyes visible above the covers. "Yes, Cousin Frodo. It's very warm here."
"Good, good." Bilbo gently touched Frodo's cheek, his grey eyes searching Frodo's eyes. "I think that you are missing Merry very much, aren't you, my lad?"
"Well. . ." Frodo admitted. "A bit. Although it is so nice to be with you for Yule, Uncle."
"I know. Just as I know that you are lonely for your cousin. You've not been away from him at Yule for a long time." Bilbo smiled. "And we will do something about that the day after tomorrow. When the Tooks go on to Brandy Hall, I think we shall go with them, for a visit. I am sure Esme and Saradoc will be more than glad to see you, and I would like very much to talk to Rory, so a visit now will be a very good thing all round. Now, what do you say to that?"
Frodo couldn't answer. His throat was too tight to allow him to speak. He flung his arms around Bilbo's neck and hugged him, pressing his face against the soft wool covering Bilbo's shoulder and breathing in the familiar and beloved scents of soap, ink and pipeweed. Bilbo returned the embrace and gave Frodo's back a gentle rub. When he spoke, his voice was a bit husky. "There now, my lad, I know. Hop into bed now."
Still speechless with joy, Frodo hurried to get into the warm bed with Pippin, who instantly snuggled close to him and patted his cheek with a soft little hand, looking concernedly into his face.
"What's wrong, cousin?" Pippin asked. "Aren't you happy to be going to Brandy Hall with us?"
"Oh, yes, Pip," Frodo managed to say. "I am so happy."
Bilbo tucked the quilt in snugly around them both and gave Pippin a stern look. "You are to go to sleep, young Peregrin Took, and let your cousin sleep as well. Tomorrow we will go down to the party field for a Yule blessing by the Mayor of Hobbiton, and then there will be gifts to distribute along Bagshot Row, and of course, gifts for you and Frodo and the lasses, and then another feast at dinner time, to which many of our neighbors will come. There is much to look forward to, and you must be well rested so that you will be able to enjoy all the pleasures we have planned. May I depend upon your good behavior?"
"Yes, Cousin Bilbo," Pippin replied with a gravity that was comical in one so young, although his green eyes fairly danced with excitement.
"Good, then I bid you both a good night."
Bilbo turned the lamp down until it was no more than a gleam in the dark, along with the rosy glow from the fireplace, then he left them alone. Pippin giggled.
"How will we ever sleep with so much to think about, Cousin Frodo?"
"I don't know," Frodo admitted. "But I suppose I can tell you a story. Shall I? I have been thinking of a story about a magical golden stag that lives in the woods near Buckland. Would you like to hear that one?"
"Oh, yes," Pippin agreed happily, and cuddled close, his head on Frodo's shoulder.
"All right then. Close your eyes, and I'll begin." Frodo hugged Pippin, his heart brimming with anticipation of the days to come, and wondered how he could ever wait for time to pass until he saw Merry again.
Frodo, dressed in the dark blue velvet suit and the white linen shirt that Bilbo had given him as a Yule gift, entered the great hall alone. Brandy Hall had been decorated with holly and pine and mistletoe. In the fireplace in the big room, a Yule log burned with a bright flame. The Brandybucks, their relations and tenants and many of their neighbors had gathered for a grand party. All the furnishings had been pushed to the walls for dancing. The room was crowded with hobbits dressed in their finest clothing, all chattering, eating and drinking punch from the silver punch bowl that sat on the table at one side of the room. Beside it was another long table that fairly swayed under the weight of all the delectable foods prepared for the Yule party.
Frodo had checked his reflection in the looking glass in his room, and had been as satisfied as possible with what he saw. His skin was still pale, but there was a hint of pink in his cheeks, and he might actually have gotten a bit of a tummy. He had turned sideways to check and smoothed the rich velvet over his flat middle and sighed. Well, perhaps not a real tummy. He might never be properly rounded, for a hobbit. Bilbo had told him that his mother and father had both been on the lean side.
But his clothing really was the finest he had ever had, and it made him feel elegant to wear it. The lace frothed at the throat and emerged from his coat sleeves to foam around his hands. The buttons of the coat were made from some softly-shining, silvery metal, and Bilbo had told him they had once adorned a coat belonging to Drogo. Frodo's hair needed trimming, but the length and gleam of his curls seemed well suited to the sumptuous clothing, and he noticed that several of the lasses were giving him surprised glances, then more flirtatious looks as he made his way to the refreshment table. He felt the pinch of bitter amusement at that. Those same lasses had ignored him when he was "that Baggins orphan." It was only now, when he was Bilbo's heir, that he had suddenly become attractive, flat tummy notwithstanding.
"Frodo!" At the sound of that dear, familiar voice calling his name, Frodo swung round to see Merry darting toward him, eyes alight, face bright with joy. "Frodo, oh, Frodo! You're here!"
Frodo braced himself for Merry's arrival, and found himself holding an armful of solid, wriggly young hobbitlad as Merry babbled at him.
"No one told me you'd come! Mum and Papa kept you a secret! But you're really here! Oh, I am so glad!"
"Oof, you're heavy." Frodo hugged Merry close. He looked over Merry's head and saw Esme and Saradoc beaming at them, along with Bilbo and the Tooks, and he beamed back before he released Merry and held him away to look at him.
Merry wore a dark green suit with a linen shirt and a red tie fashioned into a fluffy bow at his throat. His hair shone the sunny gold of ripe wheat, and his dark blue eyes were alight as he gazed back at Frodo.
"You're taller," Frodo said.
"You're skinnier."
"No!"
"Well, perhaps not skinnier, but no fatter. We'll have to make sure you get the very best treats from the table."
They started toward the table, but stopped as a small voice spoke brightly at Frodo's side.
"Hullo," Pippin said, looking expectantly up at his cousins. His shirt was missing a button, his jacket was askew, his curls all in tangles, and there was a smear of red jelly on his cheek and sugar on his mouth. He took Frodo's hand with a sticky paw and smiled charmingly at Merry, who looked bemused and a bit put out, but then answered Frodo's rueful smile with one of his own.
"Hullo, Pip. How are you?"
"Very well, thankyou," Pippin replied, and took Merry's hand too, looking from one of his big cousins to the other. "Where are we going?"
I suppose," Frodo said, "We had better start with dinner."
"Oh, good," Pippin said. "I'm starving. And then will you go on with the tale of the magical golden stag?"
"What golden stag is this?" Merry demanded, as they went toward the table. "I haven't heard that tale."
"Oh, Cousin Frodo will begin again at the beginning," Pippin said blithely. "Won't you, Cousin Frodo?"
Frodo looked down at his little cousin's confident smile, then back to Merry's eager face, and nodded.
"Of course," he said.
Frodo had been given one of the finest guest rooms, one with a large, deep featherbed. He was unsurprised to find himself playing host to both of his younger cousins, who insisted they would sleep nowhere else but with Frodo.
They had all washed and put on their nightshirts, and now were ensconced in the luxurious bed, Frodo in the middle, with Merry on his right, head leaning against his shoulder, and Pippin curled up in the curve of his left arm, whilst the wind rattled the shutters and the fire crackled and murmured in the grate. They had filched candies and little cakes from the feast table, and they contentedly munched their treats as Frodo started again to tell the story of an enchanted golden stag that haunted the woods of Buckland, a tale that could only begin in one way.
"Once upon a time. . ."
END
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Date: 2006-12-07 02:29 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2006-12-09 06:00 pm (UTC)Incidentally, I think it was an insightful touch for you to have the foot-bowl & towels in the story -- that must've happened quite a lot, because of course with hobbits there is no such thing as being able to leave your muddy boots in the hallway!
~Lyra
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