The Day Of Sharing, Lord of the rings
Nov. 8th, 2006 11:11 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
summershobbit.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
hobbit_holidaysBy Summer
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Beta read by: Laura Mason
Class: Slash (VERY MILD), fluff
Rating: PG (for a chaste kiss and hand holding)
Writer’s first note: Movie Universe, Holiday fic
Pairing: Frodo/Sam
He watched the meal being passed out to the guests around his table, and Aragorn was hard pressed to keep on the topic of rebuilding Minas Tirith with Faramir, for he could not keep his attention when something odd caught his eye.
Gandalf sat to Aragorn’s left with Faramir to his right. At the opposite side were Legolas and Gimli, followed by Eowyn and Eomer. They were all well dressed and were also trying to keep their attention on their own topics of conversation, but also felt their eyes drawn to the four hobbits seated at the end of the table.
Frodo and Sam were looking better after two months of rest in the Houses of Healing. Merry and Pippin were as usual, giggling and chatting as if they had no cares in the world. Each of them was focused on one another. The reason they had such transfixed watchers was because of the curious sight of each hobbit every so often turning to their companion, lifting their plate, and offering a bite of their food.
“Share, Sam?” Frodo softly spoke, his eyes shining in joy and obvious love. Sam quickly picked up his fork and took several small pieces of meat and placed them on his plate, and then a few seconds later offered his plate to Frodo.
“Share, Mr. Frodo?” He asked, a small smile upon his lips. Frodo returned the smile and took up his own fork, then took several carrots and cheese off Sam’s plate.
Merry and Pippin followed, calling politely to one another. “Share Merry?” “Share Pip?” and then finally Pippin to Sam and Frodo to Merry and vice versa throughout the meal.
Completely confused and curious over the polite sharing of food, Aragorn put down his glass of wine. He would have some words with the cook if she had not make certain to give a proper amount of food to the Hobbits, whom he had come to love so dearly. “Frodo? Merry? Sam? Pippin? Do you have enough? I’ll have the cook bring some more food for you? No need to share from each other’s plates.”
Frodo looked up in mild surprise when Aragorn spoke, and at once his face reddened in embarrassment as all eyes were upon him, still unaccustomed to being in the center of attention. Sam, however, only waved his hand and shook his head speaking for Frodo. A courage he would never have had before the Quest.
“It's alright, Mr. Aragorn, Strider, King sir. We have plenty and it’s all delicious, thank you.”
Frodo smiled warmly at Sam and his hand reached under the table and claimed Sam’s free hand. He squeezed it gently.
“But of course we always have room for more!” Cried Pippin, who snatched a few hot rolls off a tray as one of the servants passed by.
Thinking this would end the sharing of plates, Aragorn was startled a few moments later when it started all over again.
“Share, Sam?” Asked Frodo offering Sam a bite of his carrot from his fork. Sam smiled and brought up a piece of ham.
“Share, Mr. Frodo?”
Seeing Aragorn and the others’ confusion, Gandalf wiped his mouth on a napkin and softly tried to explain.
“My, oh my, does time fly. I forgot this special day, not that everyone celebrates it, of course.”
Now Aragorn and everyone’s attention focused on Gandalf, whose eyes twinkled in obvious delight.
“Today in the Shire it would be the Day Of Sharing.”
“Is this a tradition among the Halflings?” Asked Legolas.
“Indeed it is. A tradition that has taken place for about thirty years, and probably will continue for many generations to come.”
“Please explain, Gandalf? I have never heard of this Day of Sharing.”
Gandalf smiled at Aragorn and shrugged.
“Well, as with many traditions, it starts rather on a sad note. The year was 2971. Bilbo was away in Rivendell with me at the time when the famine came to Hobbiton.”
“Famine?” Asked Gimli, who put down his fork and reached for his ale.
“Yes, when a great storm and flooding in Hobbiton destroyed almost all the crops, just before they were due to be harvested. That was followed by many weeks with no rain. Frodo was about four years old at the time. Messages were sent to Bree requesting aid, but unknown to the Shire Folk the messages never were received thanks to a band of ruffians. Ah, yes harsh days came to the halflings and food became scarce. But the worst was yet to come.”
***
“Mommy, please, I’m so hungry!”
She rose from her chair and reached for her small, crying child, rocking him gently in her arms as she sadly looked back out the window.
“Don’t worry, Frodo my love. Your father went hunting with Folco and a few of his kin. They will return soon and we shall have you nice and full.”
“Can’t we eat now, mommy?” Blue eyes stared up at her, filling with tears as the small toddler started to shake from the pain that was tearing up his insides. Primula kissed her young son on the cheek, and closed her eyes, praying Drogo would return soon.
***
“Drogo and a few of the other Hobbits went out into the fields and hills searching everywhere for food, anything that they could use to feed there families.”
Gandalf paused in his story, to see Sam putting a forkful of mashed potatoes into his Master’s mouth. Frodo swallowed blissfully and licked his lips in contentment.
“Unfortunately there were not many animals in the area. Drogo and the others had to go quite a distance from their Shire. For days they were gone and families were forced to wait without knowing if they would ever come back. That was when the attacks started. Desperate times caused many to act desperately. Primula was just putting Frodo to bed when her home was broken into. Several hobbits from Bywater, wild with hunger, turned on each other and tried to find food whereever they could, ransacking and stealing from every smial they came to. What little food Primula had left was taken and, frightened that they would return, she fled with Frodo to her sister’s home.”
Gandalf paused to see Eowyn wipe a tear from her eyes and Faramir stared sadly down at his still full plate, finding he could not eat another bite. Even Aragorn was staring at his plate with a bit of disgust. If only he had known, he would have sent his rangers out to get food for the halflings. He would in the future keep tabs on the Shire harvests to make certain they never suffered such a thing again.
“All seemed lost. I was later told by Primula’s sister Asphodel that Primula and many of the other mothers, unsure what to do and frightened that their starving children would continue to suffer horribly, contemplated the worst solution to the situation. Just as they finally decided to act, Drogo and the others returned, wagons filled to the brim with food and seedlings for new crops given to them in Bree by farmers who had taken pity on the little folk. It seemed like a miracle. They had plenty of food for all, and Drogo called all to come to the center of the Shire and each family were given rations.”
Gandalf drew his wine to his lips and took a long drink. Putting it back down, he smiled at his entranced listeners.
“That night, all ate outside and feasted together upon several pheasants, yes, I do believe, it was pheasant.”
A small voice quickly cleared his throat and spoke. “It was turkey, Gandalf. A farmer in Bree by the name of Sampson. He had a barn full of big birds that don’t fly called turkeys and he offered them to my father and Uncle. When he first saw them, he thought they were children and, having several of his own and having plenty to eat for the year, he gave them all to him without asking for anything in return, only taking my father’s gratitude as payment.”
Aragorn noted the name and vowed to have this Farmer named Sampson found and any living kin given a proper thank you for his kindness.
Gandalf smiled. “I stand corrected. Turkeys! Drogo gave thanks and praise for, although they would have to be careful for the next few months, the citizens of Hobbiton would live on. Fortunately they have never suffered another famine since. It was then at that very moment, at the table, that Drogo seeing all his loved ones before him, raised his own plate of food and offered it to Hilda Bracegirdle. Surprised by this, she in turn offered him her own plate. Hence the tradition was born that every year since 2971, every Hobbit at their dinner table would set out a great feast in the evening and, as they ate would give thanks and offer to share food from their own plate.”
For a moment all was silent and then suddenly Aragorn raised his plate and offered it to Faramir.
“Share, Faramir?”
Faramir smiled and took a piece of carrot from the king’s plate and then in return he picked up his plate and offered it to Gimli. “Master Dwarf, Share?”
With a sad smile, Gimli did the same to Legolas offering his glass of ale as well. Legolas smiled and bowed, wiping a tear from his own eyes when no one was looking.
Frodo watched the proceedings from where he sat and smiled at Gandalf, who paused to give Frodo a wink. Smiling, Frodo looked back at Sam and offered his plate once more to his gardener, friend and lover.
“Share, Sam?”
Sam smiled. “Don’t mind if I do.” And without taking the offered plate, he planted a chaste kiss upon Frodo’s cheek. A few minutes later, Frodo was bombarded by his human, elf and Dwarf friends offering their own food (And hugs) to the Ringbearer.
From that day on, Aragorn decreed that this special day would be set aside for all as the Day of Sharing.
The End.
Wishing everyone, a very Happy Thanksgiving!
Writer's second note: This was my first Lord of the Rings Holiday Fic. I am currently trying to work on a good Christmas Yule, Gen rated story. Wish me luck. This story was first posted on FrodoSlash on yahoo groups and once on my LJ. Feedback is always appreciated.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-11-08 04:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-08 04:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-08 05:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-09 04:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-08 11:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-09 04:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-09 04:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-09 04:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-09 09:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-10 11:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-11 05:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-12 12:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-14 08:03 am (UTC)*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2006-11-15 01:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-14 07:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-15 01:07 pm (UTC)Sending you lots of hugs!!!!
PS will go looking tomorrow for a soft and cuddly Mumble (Actually it is called the Huggable Mumble...and it is quite huggable.)
no subject
Date: 2006-11-21 08:43 pm (UTC)